“Oh, right.” She’d nearly forgotten that. “Off the record, I didn’t recognize Calvin right away. I called the police when I saw a man loitering at the corner on my way home.” She moved behind the counter, rearranging a display of hand-crafted copper earrings, just to keep her hands busy.
“And when Frasier told you who it was?”
Grace sighed. “I didn’t sleep too well,” she admitted.
“You didn’t know Calvin Lynwood had any connection to the marketing firm renting the apartment?” Holly queried.
“Not at all.” Grace eyed her friend. “But you seem to know we have a history.”
Holly nodded, unashamed. “Intel from Frasier,” she explained. “Calvin told him you two were in college together.”
“Well, for a New Yorker, he’s adapting to small-town life quickly enough,” Grace grumbled. “Look, I’m fine. We were close once.” What an understatement. She’d been crazy for himand the heartache of cutting him out of her life was almost as painful as losing her mom. “I’m focused on the benefit of the income from the apartment lease.”
“Okay.” Holly held up her hands. “On the record?”
Grace nodded for her to continue.
Holly set her recorder on the counter between them and hit record. “You’re not bothered that Mr. Lynwood will be serving for Levi Garrison on the music festival committee?”
“That’s between the two of them and the committee. My grandmother and my mother both let me tag along to plenty of those meetings.”
“But you weren’t voting,” Holly pointed out.
“True, but it allowed me to understand the systems and traditions that allow our festival to become more successful every year.”
Holly grinned. “Spoken like a legacy. We’ve heard Garrison and Lynwood plan to offer some new strategies. Any thoughts?”
“It’s an honor to hold my grandmother’s seat and I enjoy the committee process and progress. As the outreach chair, my goal will be to make sure the local businesses don’t get lost in the shuffle of any new energy.”
“New energy,” Holly repeated, her pen poised over a small notepad. “Is that how you see Calvin Lynwood?”
Grace felt that familiar heat creeping up her neck. She probablyshouldsee his involvement that way. “He’s a professional consultant, in town for Levi Garrison.”
Holly shut off the recorder. “He’s also the heartthrob you left behind at Duke. I heard the rumors. This is a small town, Grace. People remember the way you looked when you came home.”
Grace silently cursed a blue streak that would’ve made a sailor proud. “My mother was dying.”
“I know. And you handled that horrible year with love, devotion, respect, and strength. And mostly alone. I was awayat school myself, but I heard about the day you told him not to come to Brookwell.”
Grace’s stomach cramped. “Not my finest hour.” Of course, that scene had burned up the gossip grapevine for weeks. Suddenly, she was the broken-hearted caregiving star in a local tragedy. She and her mom seemed to be everyone’s business that year. Though she’d appreciated the outreach and support, the questions about her dreams and plans—well out of reach at the time—left her brittle.
“I disagree,” Holly stated. “But this morning at the bakery, you looked as if you were bracing for a hurricane.”
Grace let out a long, shaky breath, the aloof mask she’d vowed to employ cracking. “It’s just a lot, Holly. Calvin represents a lot of pain and upheaval. Most of it I’m over.”
“Such as?”
“My mom,” Grace replied. “As much as I can be anyway. And y’know, the house is in good shape again. The shop’s doing well. The apartment’s rented, even if it is to him.”
“Do you still love him?”
Leave it to Holly to ask the tough questions. Where was a customer when she needed one? “I think my college-girl heart will always hold a soft, wistful spot for Calvin. Now, though, he’s so different. Polished and sure of himself. I’m sure you’ve heard he wants to scale the festival to draw a younger demographic with more discretionary income. Good on paper, but I’m all about making sure the quilting club can sell their famous peach preserves without paying a three-hundred-dollar vendor fee.”
Holly’s expression softened. “Thank goodness. The Bugle is behind you. The town is behind you. We’re big on our traditions and heritage around here, you know that. We like the heart and style,” she grinned, “that you bring to Brookwell. You’re a third-generation owner of a successful store in prime retail space. That matters. Don’t let a guy you used to sleep with make you feelsmall just because he can afford a three-thousand-dollar suit these days.”
The image made Grace laugh and the tension she’d been feeling in her neck dissolved. “He doesn’t mean to,” she murmured, unsure if she was defending Calvin or herself. “He thinks he’s helping. I’m more than a little concerned he might think I need rescuing.”
“How so?”
