the details of running a small business—taxes, inventory, personnel headaches—was sucking all the fun out of it for me. Now I’m just a beader. It’s a much better fit.”
“That’s too bad. I planned to stop in while I was in town.”
Brendan never would have pegged Lucy as a crafter. He might have thought she was only being polite if not for the sincere regret in her blue eyes.
Katherine smiled. “You still can, never fear. Make sure you do, in fact. You won’t be disappointed. String Fever is as busy as ever. I sold it several years ago to Claire McKnight and she’s done wonders with the place. You know Claire, of course.”
“I don’t think so. The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“You might have known her by her maiden name. Claire Tatum.”
“Oh, right. Ruth Tatum’s daughter. I thought she married Jeff Bradford.”
“She did. They were divorced shortly before I sold her the store. A few years ago, she married Riley McKnight. Do you know him?”
“Is that Alex McKnight’s brother?”
“The very same, except she’s now Alex Delgado. You must stop by her restaurant while you’re here. Brazen. It’s at the top of Main Street in the old fire station and is absolutely fantastic.”
Lucy looked a little overwhelmed at the barrage of information. “Thank you for the recommendation. I’ll try to do that. I guess Hope’s Crossing has changed a bit since I lived here.”
“Not that much. You’ll find the same good friends and kind neighbors.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” she murmured, though he hadn’t missed the way her mouth tightened a little.
He had never had the impression that Lucy liked Hope’s Crossing very much. Oh, she loved Annabelle and Jess and Iris House. She would visit on the occasional holiday and special occasion, like the children’s christenings and Annabelle’s past few birthdays.
He couldn’t really blame her. From what Jessie had told him, Lucy had come to town an angry, rebellious teenager, forced to live with a great-aunt she barely knew. She had spent her last few years of high school at Iris House with Annabelle before heading off to college, but that didn’t necessarily mean the town felt like home to her.
If she were looking for a place to lick her wounds, he wanted to tell her, she could do much, much worse than Hope’s Crossing.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN LUCY GREW UP, she wanted to be just like Katherine Thorne.
The woman was the very epitome of class and elegance. Lucy had always thought so.
When Lucy had first been dumped on Aunt Annabelle, Katherine used to visit Iris House for the monthly library board meetings. Even when Lucy had been clad all in black with her piercings and her purple-dyed hair, Katherine had treated her with respect and kindness.
Few others had been able to see past all the attitude to the frightened, sad girl inside. Most treated her with suspicion and sometimes outright disdain, but Katherine had at least tried.
Lucy had never forgotten it. After she was able—in no small part thanks to Annabelle—to get her stuff together and move past that rebellious teen stage, she would sometimes stop into String Fever on trips back to Hope’s Crossing during college breaks to visit Annabelle.
Invariably, Katherine would greet her with a warm smile of welcome and insist on catching up on her most recent semester and how her studies were progressing.
She remembered the woman as a bright spot of kindness in a dark time.
Now, as Lucy listened to Katherine talk to Brendan about a new fire engine the city had recently purchased, she was impressed all over again. First the library board with Annabelle years ago, now the city council. Apparently Katherine worked hard to serve the people of Hope’s Crossing.
Dermot Caine approached them, his color a little more ruddy than usual, for reasons she didn’t understand.
“Your table is ready,” he said to Katherine. “Would you like to be seated or wait until the rest of your party arrives?”
The older woman made a face. “Oh. How rude of me. I’ve been monopolizing the conversation when you’re here to have breakfast together.”
“We’re not together,” Lucy said quickly, careful not to look at Brendan. “I mean, we’re here together, obviously, but we didn’t intend it. We both just kind of showed up at the same time. But not together, together.”
She sounded like an idiot, a point that was reinforced when all three of them stared at her.
Brendan cleared his throat. “You know you’re welcome to come over to the station and take a look at the new engine anytime. As hard as you worked to push the funding through, we ought to at least name it after you. Katherine. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“I’ve always thought so,” Dermot said, then appeared flustered when the city councilwoman smiled warmly at him.
“Thank you, but I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. We all knew you needed it—it was just a matter of squeezing the funds out of our tightfisted mayor.”
“Nobody squeezes William Beaumont better than you.”
“His daughter seems to do a pretty good job of it. And speaking of which, she’ll be one of my breakfast companions, along with Charlotte, Evie, Mary Ella and Janie Hamilton. Will you send them back to my table, Dermot? They should be arriving soon.”
“Of course. Of course.”
Katherine smiled, brushing her cheek against Lucy’s. “My dear. It was lovely to see you again. I hope we get the chance to catch up before you leave town again.”
“I’ll make sure of it,” she answered.
As soon as the woman left, Dermot seemed to find it necessary to retreat to the kitchen, leaving her and Brendan alone. Relatively alone, anyway, considering they were seated at a busy counter along with a half-dozen others, in a bustling diner filled with the pleasant sounds of clinking dishes and conversation.
She was still uncomfortably aware of him. Big surprise there, since she had the same reaction every time she was in the same room with him. His wife had been her best friend so, yes, that ridiculous awareness had led to some very awkward interactions over the years.
One stupid kiss more than a decade ago—a mere fifteen minutes out of her life—and sometimes, despite her very best efforts, she couldn’t manage to think about anything else.
She let out a breath. She just had to try harder. If she was going to be staying in Hope’s Crossing for a while, she would inevitably have to see Brendan. He lived down the street, and his children were two of her favorite humans on the planet.
She had to put that kiss a decade ago—and the subsequent weeks of confusion and heartache—completely out of her mind.
A moment later, he set his napkin down beside his plate and climbed off the round stool. “I guess I’ll probably see you later. If I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep before Carter and Faith get home from school, I should probably take off.”
“I can’t wait to see them. I’ve got a few gifts for them, things I brought with me that I haven’t gotten around to mailing. Could I drop them off sometime today?”
A muscle flexed in that strong jaw. “You know you don’t have to shower them with gifts. They would love you, anyway, trinkets or not.”
He made no secret that it annoyed him when she sent little toys or books to the children—or delivered them in person when she came to town. She was honest enough with herself to admit that might have been part of the reason she went to the trouble. She genuinely enjoyed picking out things