Kathleen’s smile turned tender at the mention of Patrick. “I still can’t quite believe how lucky I am. After my divorce, I thought that part of my life was over. I’d made peace with being alone.”
“And now?” Isabel asked gently as they resumed walking.
“Now I understand what you meant about feeling like yourself again,” Kathleen said, echoing Isabel’s earlier words about Frank. “Patrick doesn’t just love me—he sees me. The real me, not some careful version I created to get through the hard years.”
Susan moved closer to Kathleen as they walked. “I can see it in your face when you talk about him. You’re glowing.”
“At my age, that’s probably just hot flashes,” Kathleen protested, making them all laugh.
“It’s not hot flashes,” Lynda said with conviction. “It’s happiness. Real, deep-down happiness.”
“I know that, but love feels...” Kathleen sighed.
“Scarier than anything else in the world,” Susan finished. “I get it. After my divorce, I threw myself into building my business partly because it felt safer than risking my heart again. But look where that got me—successful and completely alone.”
Isabel reached for Kathleen’s hand. “Fear is normal. But you can’t let it stop you from living. When Frank first asked me out, I said no three times. I was convinced that loving someone new meant betraying James’s memory.”
“What changed your mind?” Susan asked.
“Frank kept showing up,” Isabel said with a laugh. “Not pushy or demanding, just present. He brought me books he thought I’d like, fixed the broken shelf in the store without being asked, and listened to my stories about James. Eventually, I realized that love isn’t finite. Having room in my heart for Frank didn’t diminish what I’d shared with James.”
Tears pricked Kathleen’s eyes. “Patrick does that too. He shows up. When I mentioned needing help moving some heavy shelves at the café, he appeared the next morning with tools and coffee. When I was worried about the electrical work in my house, he introduced me to his electrician. He doesn’t make a big production of it, he just cares.”
“That’s how you know it’s real,” Lynda said softly. “When someone consistently chooses to make your life a little easier without expecting anything in return.”
They followed the trail as it curved around a small inlet. The conversation shifted to lighter topics—Isabel’s upcoming book club meeting, Lynda’s latest animal rescue stories, and Susan’s adventures in learning to sleep past six a.m. for the first time in years.
As they reached a fork in the trail, Susan stopped suddenly. “I want to do something,” she announced. “Something small to start with, but something that’s mine.”
“What kind of something?” Kathleen asked.
Susan’s eyes lit up with the first spark of genuine excitement Kathleen had seen since her arrival. “Remember how much we enjoyed the Italian cooking classes we did when you visited me in Georgia?”
“You mean the ones where you were the only one whose gnocchi was edible?” Isabel laughed.
Susan nodded. “I want to teach cooking classes. Not huge events or fancy catering, just small groups of people who want to learn basic cooking techniques. I could partner with the community center or the library. It has to be something that brings people together without too much fuss.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” Kathleen said. “Andrea from The Starlight Café used to tutor cooking classes at The Welcome Center, but she can’t do it anymore. Why don’t you see Pastor John? It would be the perfect location, and the facilities are incredible.”
Isabel nodded eagerly. “The bookstore could promote the classes. You could even do themed events like cooking scenes from literature, historical recipes, that sort of thing.”
Kathleen laughed. “If you have themed classes, you’ll have a waiting list before you officially open.”
After they’d reached the next fork in the trail, they turned around and walked back toward town.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Isabel said as a family passed them riding their bicycles.
“What does it mean?” Susan asked.
“All four of us will be Sapphire Bay business owners,” Isabel grinned, ticking things off her fingers. “We’ve got the bookstore, the veterinary clinic, the café, and Susan’s soon-to-be cooking school. That’s four incredible businesses that make the town more vibrant and exciting.”
Lynda laughed. “You should have been a publicist instead of a librarian.”
Susan grinned. “You’ve forgotten that Isabel is a writer, too. She has a gift with words.”
“I wish those words would come more quickly,” Isabel said with a sigh. “I’m stuck on chapter ten of my book.”
Kathleen wrapped her arm around Isabel’s waist. “If Frank can’t help, come and have a brainstorming session with Patrick and me. We spend most evenings with our noses in our books or guessing what will happen next in a TV show.”
