“What’s that mean?” I asked. “‘Ah’?”
He raised his cup and sipped. “You’re a people pleaser. You miss the attention.”
I made a cuckoo face. “Obviously. Especially when it comes to my family.” I laughed. “I can’t help it. I love them all so much, and I want them to be happy. If I can help with that, it makes me happy too.”
Davis cocked his head. “You sure about that?”
I wanted to say “Of course!” But I wasn’t convinced anymore. “What matters is that I’m trying to make some overdue changes.”
“And these changes require a historic property where you can be alone and garden,” he said.
“Yep. Though I need to add more flowers. And I’m battling a bunny over the produce.”
He bobbed his head in faux understanding, then admitted, “I don’t get it.”
I laughed again. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Does this have anything to do with the list that was on the refrigerator the last time I was here?”
I cringed inwardly. Suspicion confirmed. He’d seen the list, and I was glad for the jarring reminder of my goals here. I was supposed to be breaking old habits, not forming new, one-sided crushes.
Davis raised his palms. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have read that.”
“Definitely not,” I agreed.
“One of the goals was to become your best Emily.” He squinted. “Does that mean Emily Dickinson?”
“Never mind that,” I said.
“What about the last item? Give up on love. I’m guessing there’s a story behind that one?”
I clenched my teeth and gripped my mug until I thought it might crack. “Not one for today.”
He stared another long moment before speaking. “Grace says you’re making quite an impression at Village Books. She said a few of the male classmates took an immediate interest.” He grinned. “She even saw one man hand you a letter.”
My mouth fell open, then snapped shut.
“Grace is a bit of a busybody,” he said. “I mean that with love. She only wants the best for everyone, but if you’re going to be around awhile, you should be aware. She has a special interest in you.”
“We’ve been friends for years,” I said, finding my tongue. “I think it’s nice that she’s looking out for me.”
“She’ll try to marry you off, if you aren’t careful,” he warned. “And based on that list, it’s not what you want.”
My traitorous heart split down the center, simultaneously longing for love and wanting to reach my new goal of happiness on my own.
“Who’s Paul?” Davis asked, tone casual, expression curious. He flicked smart gray eyes in the direction of my letter once more.
“A friend I met in Grace’s letter-writing class.” Also, none of Davis’s business.
He cupped his big hands around the teacup. “What’s he like?”
“He’s nice,” I said, unsure where this conversation could possibly be going and why I felt compelled to answer.
“The class works well with your Emily Dickinson related goals?” he guessed.
I nodded.
“What about Paul? How does he fit into giving up on love?”
