I needed this job, but I almost hoped Bree scrapped the whole thing and told me to touch grass or whatever it was the younger generation said to my generation when they wanted them to get lost.
Working with Bree was a temptation, and a dangerous one at that. Working with her created a world of problems I’d rather avoid.
I knew how to avoid temptation, but Bree might be the one thing I succumbed to if given the chance.
Bree walked me to the door, her hair bouncing with every step.
The top of her head came to the middle of my sternum, and I had a brief but powerful urge to discover what it felt like to hug her.
5
BREE
I needed a drink, but with Declan behind the bar, I opted to take a stroll downtown.
Sitting with Ronan and talking about the future of the bar made my insides all jumpy and my nerves hadn’t had a chance to calm down since I woke up.
My green peacoat provided plenty of warmth against the lingering winter chill fighting to stick around despite spring’s approach.
I reached the end of the block past the pub and turned right, then right again.
Businesses stretched out on either side of the simple roadway, many of the signs and decorations in the windows the same as they’d been before I left.
One thing about Clover Hill, they didn’t care for change.
At the far end of the block to my left, the firestation’s red brick exterior put a hitch in my step. What if I stopped in to see Finn?
Ohhellno.
I tightened my coat around my middle and turned my back on the thought, forcing my feet to carry me to the funeral home on the opposite end of town.
Talking to Mr. Devaro about Nana’s cremation put an itch under my skin, but it had to be done.
“Morning, dear.” A thin, elderly woman sitting at a wooden cafe table outside the coffee shop lifted her cup in a sort of toast in my direction.
I racked my brain for a name but none came to mind. “Morning.”
“Are you lost?” She took a sip of coffee, her hand trembling a bit.
I shook my head. “Nope. Headed to the funeral home.”
“Oh, dear. Dreadful business.” Another sip, and rheumy blue eyes narrowed on me. “And here at St. Patrick’s day of all times.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Grateful to have someone who understood, I took a step closer. “I noticed everyone’s getting ready. They do still have the parade, don’t they? Nana always loved the parade.” My throat clogged, forcing me to stop.
Thin lips puckered. “Of course we still have the parade. Who was your nana?”
“Maeve.” It took all my control to say her name without breaking down.
A green banner hanging over the window at Overcaffeinated flapped in a gust of wind.
Shamrocks dotted several windows on this side of the street, and more decorations appeared when the man who owned thehardware store rolled out a wheelbarrow filled to overflowing with green garlands made entirely of shamrocks.
He wrapped one around the bench in front of his shop, laughing and waving at everyone who walked past.
A disgruntled noise brought my head back around. “Sorry, did you say something?” How many times had I apologized since coming back?
More than I’d apologized in the fifteen years I’d been gone, that was for sure.
