“Thank you for coming with me.”
“Of course.Anything for you.”The smile on Nathaniel’s face as she said the phrase he so often told her was worth any discomfort this evening might bring.
Now to get through it.
He opened the door, placing a hand on her lower back and ushering her into the building, where the smell of ale and stew filled the air.Thea took a deep breath, surprised at how much she enjoyed it.
The Lucky Goat felt surprisingly homey and comfortable.She never would’ve guessed it of Roan’s establishment, given what Gertrude had told her.The innkeeper’s review of the tavern had been less than glowing.
But that had been before Abigail.
The woman in question bustled toward them, wiping her hands on her apron.“Thea, Nathaniel,” she said, her smile wide.“I’m so glad the two of you could come.”
She looked around the room and Thea became aware of just how many people were staring at them.
“Roan is in the kitchen,” Abigail said, turning and gesturing toward the bar.“We thought we’d eat there tonight.”
“I think that’s a great plan,” Nat said, reaching for Thea’s hand and gripping it firmly, striding forward.
Apparently he was eager to get out of everyone’s sight.
Chapter sixteen
Nat
Nathanielalmostranintothe kitchen of the Lucky Goat.He should have expected that there would be people in the tavern and that they would all be watching him and Thea arrive, but he hadn’t expected there to be so many—and for all of them to be as interested as they were.
“I’m leaving Morgan in charge,” Abigail announced as she followed behind them.“Everybody be good and listen to her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the deep-voiced response came, and there was a chorus of assenting noises.
Nathaniel glanced at Abigail out of the corner of his eye.He’d never known the tavern to be this polite.Apparently, this woman had done more than charm his brother—she had charmed the entire tavern.
He felt even more respect for her as he glanced back to see the grizzled old men sitting at the bar smiling at her as she led them toward the kitchen—as if he didn’t know where it was.
He had grown up in this building—definitely not as much as Roan had, but before his father’s parents had passed, he had spent many hours here with his grandmother.
He glanced up at the old tapestry she’d made with a goat and the tavern’s name stitched into it, one of his favorite memories of her.
It had been mended.
It had once been torn in a bar fight, and Roan had hung it higher to keep it out of the way, but now, the part that had dangled no longer hung free.It had been stitched back together so well he could barely tell where it had torn.
That was not Roan’s doing.
He was pretty sure his brother had no idea how to use a needle and thread.He knew because their mother had taught him, but Roan spent more time in the tavern than with their mother.
Had Abigail done that, too?
He followed Abigail into the kitchen, and when she entered, an overwhelming sense of rightness filled him.
She belonged here with Roan, and he belonged at the café with Thea.Both of them with the women who had changed them for the better.Both of them serving their community the way their grandparents had always wanted.
His brother stood at the kitchen counter, pulling out bowls and setting them next to a bubbling pot of stew.Nathaniel took a deep breath and smiled.
“That’s Grandmother’s recipe, isn’t it?”he asked.
“I thought it was worth pulling out tonight,” Roan said.
