“For what?”
“For being here and being alert.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And for entertaining my four-year-old all afternoon.”
“She entertained me.”
“Do I want to know?”
“We talked about naughty child-eating hawks. You’ll need to let Grandma know I blew her ploy to keep Lily in line and we discussed walking basil. In some detail. To be honest, it was delightful.”
Grace smiled warmly and looked at him a beat too long. He looked back at her a beat too long. The quiet in the shop abruptly thickened into something that wasn’t quiet at all.
“You look ready to drop,” he said quietly. “Go home. Take a long soak in a hot bath and order pizza for supper. I’m going to go home and take a nap, and I’ll be back here by dark.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. But you’ll sleep better tonight if you know I’m here keeping an eye on things, right?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted.
“There you have it. I’ll be back before dark.”
She reached out and rested her hand lightly on his forearm, saying earnestly, “I can’t thank you enough.”
His entire body reacted to her light touch, tightening and hyper focusing on those few square inches of flesh where her fingertips were warm and soft against his skin. All ability to speak deserted him and he merely nodded in response.
Her hand fell away, and after clearing his throat, he regained his voice. “You’ll call Wheeler?”
“I’ll call him as soon as I get home.”
He turned to leave and had the door half open when she said his name again.
He turned to see her holding out her hand. He took the shop’s business card she gave him and turned it over. Her cell number was written on the back.
“Call me anytime, day or night, if you need to talk with me,” she said low.
He pulled out his phone and sent her cell phone number a quick text so she would have his personal contact information, too.
“Same for me. Call day or night. I’ll always pick up for you.”
They might overtly be talking about calling if something happened at the bakery, but the double entendre in their words was so thick it was impossible to miss. They’d both just invited each other to call any time they wanted to talk about anything.
He limped down the block to his truck and sat in the cab with the card in his palm longer than the situation strictly required, memorizing her phone number and looking at her handwriting on a card that smelled faintly of fresh bread.
6
Sunday morning, Grace stood at her kitchen window with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, watching low clouds drag across the mountains across the lake. Her cottage at the end of Pine Street where it dead ended into Lake Stillwater smelled like cinnamon pancakes and rain that hadn’t fallen yet.
The lake outside was the color of tarnished silver. Liam had loved the water and insisted on living near it. Even though this house had been out of their budget, he’d scraped together enough money to make the down payment to live on the lake. Every morning and every evening, he’d gone out to the screened in porch that faced the lake to stare at the water and, as he put it, find his peace.
The maples all around the cottage had finally pushed out their first real leaves of spring, and their green was so new and bright it looked fluorescent against the gray sky.
Her calves were registering complaints today after spending all day on her feet yesterday. The arches of her feet also filed a grievance, and the small of her back had submitted a formal protest to her body’s management.
She made herself a cup of tea, went out to the back porch, and sat, looking at the lake and forgetting to drink her tea.
