He hadn’t thought of it that way before. “I like it here. For me, Driftwood is home.”
“What is it for Jasper?”
“Shame.” The word slipped out before he’d considered it. Before he’d ever really thought about it.
Miss Wright looked at him, the question clear in her expression.
“It’s a long story,” he said.
She looked forward again, her profile soft in the dim light. “It’s a beautiful town.”
He was grateful she didn’t push for more information.
All those eager bachelorettes who flirted at the market and the park had nothing on the kind and graceful presence of this woman.
There was a thought he needed to banish.
“Similar to where you grew up?” he asked.
“To Shadow Cove?” Her head tilted to the side as she considered his question. “In some ways, yes. It’s about the same size, probably settled around the same time, back when the locals were still happy subjects of the crown.”
“Early eighteenth century,” he said of Driftwood.
“Close,” she said. “Shadow Cove was settled not long after Portland, late sixteen hundreds. It’s got a long fishing history, but nowadays the economy revolves around tourism.”
Noah tried to picture it—a quaint coastal village, cold winds blowing off the North Atlantic, rocky shores instead of sandy beaches. A place that had shaped the woman beside him.
“Are you planning to go back?”
“I don’t think I could’ve left if I’d thought I’d never go back.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, peeking at him. “I needed to prove to myself I could survive on my own.”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
The worry that had been gnawing at him since he’d hired her surfaced again. “Charlotte’s getting attached to you.”
“I know.” Her voice was soft but steady. “I’m attached to her, too. But my family’s there. My sisters. I miss them. By next fall, I’ll have been gone for over a year.”
He hated to think of how her leaving would break Charlotte’s heart. “You mentioned sisters. Are you the oldest? Is that why you’re so good with kids?”
She laughed, the sound adding melody to the rhythm of the surf. “I’m the fourth of five. My little sister’s four years younger than I am.”
“You mentioned her once. Kenzie? The runner?”
“That’s right.” She sounded pleased that he remembered. “I was often tasked with keeping an eye on her. She didn’t make it easy.” Miss Wright shot a look his way. “Kenzie can be a handful. She was always climbing or jumping or just wandering off. A little adventurer. We’re all thankful she survived her childhood.”
“Did she settle down?”
“Hardly. She’s a sailor.”
“Like…in shipping, or for the Navy?”
“She captains yachts, often sailing them from one port to another for owners who prefer to fly but want their boat at their next destination.”
“Interesting job.”
“I guess. We don’t even know where she is half the time.”
