approached the sidewalk.
“You’re not sick of my cooking after dinner last night?”
Scott smiled at the recollection of sitting around Lucy’s old farm table with her husband and son, talking and laughing long into the night like any other family would. A few times he’d caught himself thinking that maybe he could have a life like this, but that must have been the wine talking. There was no room for him in this place.
“I haven’t had a meal like that in years.” He grinned.
“Well, you can have another tonight, then. I’m going over to Mom and Dad’s for dinner after work.”
Scott’s gut twisted as he held her eyes, carefully selecting his excuse. Lucy stood before him unwavering, her mouth a thin line. She knew what she was doing. And he didn’t like it one bit.
“Lucy, don’t do this to me.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He broke her gaze and glanced down the street, desperate for an escape.
Her eyes were sharp when he turned his attention back to her. “Dad’s dying, Scott,” she said firmly, her gaze narrowing in disappointment. “The treatments aren’t working. The cancer has spread.”
“You know we don’t get along,” Scott insisted, but Lucy was shaking her head, clearly not buying it.
“Scott, I’ve put up with this nonsense for long enough,” she said, her voice steely. “Whatever happened between you and our parents is old news. You were a teenager then, now you’re a thirty-year-old man. Start acting like one,” she snapped.
Scott took a step back, his eyes flashing with indignation. He forced himself to remember that Lucy didn’t know the part his father had played in the events of the past. He’d kept in touch with her over the years, but he made sure to keep their conversations light, and mostly about her, George and Bobby. “You know I came back for you. You asked for my help in the rebuilding of the library, and I’m here. I’ll see it through, but please don’t ask anything more.”
Lucy’s eyes softened. “I know, and I’m so grateful, Scott. Honestly, I am.” She lowered her eyes to the ground, her shoulders slumping. “I’ve lived with so much guilt knowing that Bobby accidentally caused that fire.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know what we would have done if Max Hamilton wasn’t funding the project in exchange for some land George inherited. You can’t imagine how that felt...the relief.”
No, Scott thought grimly. He couldn’t say he did know how that would feel. There was no stranger to swoop into town and clear up his mess, the way Max had apparently helped so much since moving to Maple Woods after the holidays. Scott couldn’t rebuild the past. He couldn’t raise the dead. There was no righting his wrongs.
“It means everything to me that you’re here to take over the job, Scott. Don’t lose sight of that,” she explained.
Scott eyed her warily. “I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”
Lucy gave a sad smile. “Don’t let this chance pass you by. It’s been a long time. Let things go. Don’t do something you’ll regret forever.” She held his gaze, and he almost felt his stance weaken, his resolve waver. Almost.
Scott shook his head adamantly, feeling the flush of heat spread up his neck. “I don’t regret staying away, Lucy.” And he didn’t. His father might not have trouble looking people in the eye, knowing the part he played in one of the town’s greatest tragedies, but Scott would rather give up everything he loved than build his life around a lie.
“Well, if you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me!” she said, her eyes suddenly filling with tears as fury blazed bright.
Scott cursed inwardly, feeling the strain of her emotion, the weight of his burden. After a long pause, he said tightly, “No promises.”
Lucy relaxed her stance. She nodded slowly, saying nothing more as she reached out to take his arm. It took everything in him not to break down then and there, to tell her everything. To shed the weight he had carried for so long. To divulge every last detail of what his parents told him that awful night—what their family had done to the Porters. Those poor Porters.
“Come into the bakery,” she said to him. “We’ve got a special event as part of the opening week and I don’t want you to miss it.”
Scott hesitated. “You’re not working at the diner this morning?”
“Not if I can help it.” Lucy bent down to clip a sprig of blue hydrangea from a whiskey barrel planter. “I barely spent an hour at Sweetie Pie without being interrupted yesterday, they were so lost without me at the diner. I’m hoping things go a little smoother today.”
Without another word, she pushed through the front door, frowning until Scott forced himself to follow. His pulse skipped when he saw Emily standing behind the counter, looking just as pretty as the day before. She met his gaze with a small smile and something deep within his gut stirred. He looked away, around the crowded room, noticing that nearly every table was filled. There was a cheerful buzz to the room, a soft tinkling of music in the background, and the sweet aroma of pie and coffee to make everyone, including him, feel at home.
Home. He hadn’t thought of that word in a very long time. It was a vague idea of something he wasn’t sure he had anymore. He hadn’t dared to think of Maple Woods as home since he’d left, and his condo in Seattle was just a place to live.
“Emily!” Lucy called to Scott’s horror. His breath locked in his tightened chest. “Mind getting Scott settled? I’ve got to check on that order of strawberries. We should have had them an hour ago.”
Emily’s face blanched and she darted her gaze from Lucy to Scott and back again. “Sure,” she murmured as she finished plating a slice of pie for an impatient customer.
Scott turned to his sister. “I came in here to visit with you, Lucy,” he said quietly.
“Emily will take good care of you. If you let her.” Lucy winked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he shot back.
“I’m just saying that Emily makes a damn good pie,” she said airily. “Last I checked, that was the purest way to a man’s heart.”
Scott chuckled in spite of himself. “Lucy! Please!”
“What? I seem to remember you being awfully smitten with her at one point. I always thought you were going to marry her, in fact.” She lifted an eyebrow and turned away from him with a coy shrug, shutting down the conversation.
Scott shook his head and reluctantly walked over to the display case, sparing an awkward smile for Emily. Guilt and shame haunted him, and he tried desperately to shrug off the unwanted feelings.
“Hi.” Emily’s soft voice dragged him from his darkening thoughts and he quickly recovered, perking up as he let his gaze roam over her pretty face. His stomach tightened as his attention lingered on the smoky gray eyes and that plump, upturned mouth stained a shade of red that excited him more than it should.
“Hey.” He stared into his mug as she filled it to the rim. Just the way he liked it. His breath hitched as he caught sight of her feminine curves beneath the apron she wore, and he tried to recall what it had felt like to hold her waist and feel her body against his. The memory was so close, but just out of reach.
She held his gaze, not betraying any outward interest, and Scott felt a flicker of disappointment. She was being hospitable. Playing her role. Doing her job. He wanted to pull her into a back room, somewhere they could talk, and explain everything. He wanted to atone for the pain he had caused, to make it up to her—somehow. He searched her face, imagining her sweet expression crumbling before his eyes as he delivered the crushing news, and his gut twisted. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t, but to never tell her...
“So, I don’t see you for twelve years and now it’s twice in two days,” she said, shaking her head on a sigh. “The