with a third on the way. He also had a position as manager of the local bank and had become an accepted, even prominent, member of this community. All that in spite of having spent six years in prison. Of course, not everyone here knew that part of his past.
Nate, whose own past was similar to Adam’s, both in where he’d come from and where he’d been, passionately wanted that kind of future for himself. At least the being accepted and belonging part.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want the family part too—he absolutely did. It was just that he knew it was better—for everyone—if he didn’t pursue that dream.
For one thing, he had no luck whatsoever in relationships. More often than not, he ended up hurting the very people he cared most about.
For another, he could never pursue a serious relationship with a woman without letting her know what he’d done. And what woman would want to marry a man with a past like his? Especially not a certain widow whose face popped into his head at the thought. No, it was best all the way around if he just settled for a comfortable, neighborly relationship with the folks around here.
After all, what more could a man who’d robbed a bank and then spent nine years in prison paying for it expect?
“I can’t wait to see the latest of your fabulous creations.”
Verity firmly pushed aside thoughts of the very interesting Mr. Cooper as she smiled at her friend Hazel’s extravagant compliment. “I’m not sure about fabulous, but I do hope you like it.” She glanced toward Joy, who sat on the floor playing with Buttons. Maybe someday, when they had a house of their own, she could get Joy the pet she so passionately wanted. In the meantime, perhaps Aunt Betty and Uncle Grover wouldn’t mind a caged pet, like a sweet little songbird...
“Oh, my...”
Her friend’s delighted exclamation pulled Verity’s thoughts back to the present.
Hazel lifted Verity’s current millinery creation out of the hatbox and studied it, her eyes gratifyingly alight with admiration. “I do believe this is your best one yet. It’s absolutely exquisite.” Then she shook her head in mock confusion. “Who would guess that your restrained demeanor hides a woman with such a stylish flair?”
Verity drew up at that. “I’m a widow, remember. My restrained demeanor, as you call it, is not only appropriate but expected.”
Hazel seemed unimpressed by her reasoning. “You’ve been widowed over a year now, so it’s okay to put off wearing such dreary colors all the time. And we both know that before you were even married you dressed much more conservatively than the rest of us.”
Verity knew her friend meant well, but the words still stung. As if her mourning for Arthur would automatically end based on a date on a calendar. Besides, she had already added some color to her wardrobe. True, she still wore black skirts, but her shirtwaists contained gray or lavender or even some dark green. In fact, her Sunday best was the only solid-black dress she still wore, and she’d even added a bit of gray to the collar and cuffs of that one. It was only proper that, as a widow, she didn’t try to wear bright colors or frills.
As for the rest, with that scar on her face, she’d never been one of the “pretty girls,” and she’d long since come to terms with that.
Verity gave her friend an exasperated look. “Not all of us are as comfortable with flamboyant airs and drama as you are.”
This shop was proof of that. Color and furbelows were everywhere. Besides the dress forms that displayed examples of her work, there were bolts of fabrics in every shade imaginable, from pastels to deep jewel tones, both solids and prints, spools of lace and cord and ribbons, trimmings such as feathers and beads and medallions, fashion plates displayed artfully around the store—and all arranged in a manner to catch the eye and entice one to come close to admire and touch and perhaps purchase.
Verity loved it here, loved how it made her feel, as if she was inside a fantastical daydream where nothing harsh could intrude.
But she was just a visitor here—it wasn’t her world.
“Which is a shame.”
For a startled moment Verity thought her friend had read her thoughts. Then she realized Hazel was merely responding to her last statement.
Hazel’s grin had an I-know-best twist to it. “I think a little flamboyancy and drama in your life is just what you need.”
Verity relaxed and returned her grin. “That’s what I have you in my life for. And why I create these hats.” One of the things she’d missed most about Turnabout when she’d married Arthur and moved so far away was her friendship with Hazel. They’d kept in touch with the occasional letter, but being able to spend time together was so much better.
When Verity had moved back to Turnabout after Arthur’s death last year, she and Hazel had picked up where they’d left off.
Joy’s giggles drew her attention and she glanced in that direction. The girl was jiggling her bit of yarn in front of Buttons. Hazel’s cat was trying to bat at it with one of her front paws, much to Joy’s delight.
Verity turned back to see Hazel rotating the hat this way and that, trying to view it from all angles. Wetting her lips and affecting a casual expression, Verity gave in to the urge to do a little probing. “Have you met your new neighbor yet?”
“You mean Mr. Cooper?” Hazel glanced out the door, as if she could see around the corner to his shop. “Just casually. He seems rather mysterious, don’t you think, just showing up here out of the blue?” Her eyes sparkled with saucy speculation. “I know he’s a friend of Adam Barr’s, but still, one can’t help but wonder what his story is. Especially when he looks right at you with those striking eyes.”
Verity popped her hand on her hip in mock outrage. “Hazel Theresa Andrews, I thought you were sweet on the sheriff. Has another man finally caught your fancy?”
Hazel tossed her head. “I’m getting tired of waiting for Ward Gleason to take notice of me. It certainly won’t hurt anything to let him know I have options.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask? Do you have your eye on Mr. Cooper?”
Seeing the speculation in her friend’s expression, Verity tilted her chin up defensively. “Don’t be silly. I don’t even know the man.”
“He didn’t happen to be outside his store when you walked by just now, did he?”
Hazel was too perceptive by half. “He was. And yes, we chatted for a moment. But only because Joy wanted to pet his dog. You know she can’t pass by an animal without wanting to play with it.”
“So you did meet him.”
“Not exactly.” She waved a hand. “I mean, no introductions were exchanged. But saying hello was the neighborly thing to do.” Verity mentally cringed when she heard the defensive note creep into her voice.
And of course Hazel pounced right on it. “Well, now, isn’t this an interesting turn of events. Our meek-as-a-lamb, practical-as-prunes Verity is interested in the very rugged and far-from-meek-looking Mr. Cooper.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, drawing herself up even straighter. “I have no interest in the man beyond a natural curiosity.”
“Of course you don’t.” But from the knowing smile on Hazel’s lips, Verity could tell her friend didn’t believe her protests. It was time to steer this conversation in a different direction.
“Thanks for letting Joy play with Buttons,” she said. “She looks forward to it whenever I tell her I’m headed over here.”
To Verity’s relief, Hazel accepted the change of subject as she carried the hat to the nearby cheval glass. “Buttons enjoys it, too,” her friend said absently as she