“Mrs. Peterson!” A smile spread across her face. “I’ve got books! New books.”
Hattie listened as Delphi told their neighbor about her latest gift,stumbling over the words in her excitement.
“Mommy can’t talk now because she’s having a meltdown.”
Hattie winced. Had she actually said those words aloud? She needed to be more careful, particularly in front of Delphi, who was like a sponge, soaking up everything around her. Everything she overheard was stored away and then repeated at the worst possible moment.
She held out her hand for the phone and Delphi handed it over, slid off the chair and headed back to the office, where Rufus was waiting patiently, his head on his paws.
“Hello, Lynda. How are you?”
“I’m fine, honey, but how are you? We haven’t seen you for a while. Delphi said you were having a meltdown.”
“She misheard. It’s a new dessert we’re trying in the restaurant,” Hattie improvised wildly. “It’s a chocolate pudding filled with melted chocolate. We’re calling it a meltdown.”
“Sounds delicious. I can’t wait to try it. I know I say this all the time, but Delphi is a delight. You’re a wonderful mother, Hattie, and you’re coping so well. Brent would be proud.”
Would he?
Was she coping? She was surviving, but was that the same thing?
She knew she was lucky to have neighbors like the Petersons. They owned the farm adjacent to the inn and supplied produce to the kitchens, and also the Christmas trees that Hattie used to decorate for the holidays. What had started as a business relationship had turned into a deep friendship.
Lynda had once mentioned how much she would have loved to have a daughter,and Hattie had been tempted to reply,Adopt me, I’m available.
“Hattie?” Lynda’s voice was gentle. “Are you doing okay, honey?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Brilliant.”
“Because if you need help, you know we’re here. Noah can be over there in a flash if there’s something that needs fixing.”
Noah.
She grew tense and her heart pumped a little harder. “He doesn’t need to come over. Everything is good.”
Noah was the Petersons’ son, and he worked the farm with his father.
He’d been a good friend to Hattie, until a few weeks earlier when she’d ruined everything. It had been the night of the Halloween party that the Petersons held every year on their farm for the local community. The children dressed up, there were ghost hunts and spooky experiences, and plenty of sugar-loaded treats.
And there was Noah.
She closed her eyes. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to think about it again. It was just a kiss; that was all. She’d been having areallybad day, feeling lost and lonely and a little afraid of the future and he’d been there, broad shouldered and solid, kind and, yes—she was going to admit it—sexy. She was a widow—she hated that word so much—and Noah was single, so there really wasn’t an issue except that now she felt embarrassed, and horribly awkward and not at all sure what she’d say when she saw him again.
Worst of all she felt guilty. She’d loved Brent. She still loved Brent. She’d always love Brent. But she’d kissed Noah, and that single, earth-shattering, mind-blowing kiss had been the best thing that had happened to her in the past two years,and also the most confusing.
“Don’t send Noah. Nothing needs fixing, Lynda.” Except her. She definitely needed fixing. Why had she kissed Noah? She could blame the dark or being spooked by the ghost noises the kids made in the forest, or the glass of “witches’ brew” that had turned out to be a great deal more potent than she’d imagined and guaranteed to knock the most hardened witch right off her broomstick. But mostly she blamed herself. “Are you calling for a reason?”
“Yes. Noah wanted to know if you’ve decided on your Christmas tree order for this year. He’ll want to reserve the best for you.”
The fact that he hadn’t called himself told her he regretted their encounter as much as she did.
“I need to have a think, Lynda, but I’ll email Noah soon.”
“Email?” Lynda sounded mildly bemused. “You could just tell him in person, honey.”
She could, but that would mean actually looking him in the eye and she wasn’t ready for that. She was pretty sure he wasn’t, either. She knew little about his relationship history. He’d lived in Boston after he graduated and had worked for a digital marketing company. Seeing how comfortable he was working outdoors, she struggled to imagine him in a glass-fronted office staring at a screen, but apparently that was what he’d done until his father had crashed one of the tractors and narrowly escaped with his life. Noah had returned home and he’d worked the farm with his parents ever since, spending any free time he had converting one of the barns into a home for himself.
“He’s busy, and I’m busy and I could call obviously, but email might be easier.” Also less awkward for both of them.
