Aaron straightened his fork as he digested that piece of news.
There must be a story there—perhaps one that would explain their host’s enigmatic look as she’d answered Isabel’s question.
Could he find a diplomatic way to get more information without coming across as nosey?
Before he could formulate a follow-up comment, Isabel jumped back in.
“There’s a famous tower in Paris, isn’t there?”
“Yes. The Eiffel Tower.”
“Have you ever seen it?”
“Once, when I was there for work.”
“I don’t know too much about Paris—except that Madeline lives there.”
At Devyn’s obvious confusion, Aaron stepped in. “She’s the little girl from an old series of books set in Paris. Isabel came across them on a trip to the library, and the series provided us with bedtime stories for quite a while.”
“Oh.ThatMadeline.” Devyn’s expression cleared. “I read those books as a child too.”
Isabel set her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm. “Do you travel very much in your job?”
“Some. Most of the time I’m in New York, but I’ve been to quite a few cities around the world on tour, or for the short projects I often take on during the summer.”
“I haven’t been very far from home. Only places we can drive.”
Devyn offered her a smile that seemed a tad wistful. “Sometimes home is the best place to be.”
Curious.
She almost sounded as if she’d prefer being home to all the glitzy globe-trotting she’d done.
But when she thought of home, what came to mind—New York or her younger years in Hope Harbor? And how had her mother ended up so far from the tiny town where Devyn had been born?
Their server arrived with their orders, ending his musings, and once their plates were in front of them, Isabel dived in, giving eating priority over conversation.
A hush fell over their table while banter and laughter flowed around them.
As Aaron struggled to come up with an innocuous topic—or a subtle way to inquire about Devyn’s mother—to fill the sudden silo of silence, their host took charge of the conversation.
“This is quite a spread.” She surveyed her overflowing skillet and the pancake beside it that filled a dinner plate.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He draped his napkin over hislap. “But you can always take home what’s left and have it for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Assuming thereisanything left.” She picked up her fork. “I’m hungry this morning.”
He hitched up one side of his mouth and waved toward her plate. “Have at it, then.”
With a gusto rivaling Isabel’s, she tackled the humongous breakfast.
Four bites into the skillet, she closed her eyes. Sighed. “This is amazing. A huge step up from the bagels I’ve been subsisting on here. Lauren is a cereal person, but I like a bigger breakfast. Now that she’s home and we’re settling into an eating routine, I need to stock up on heartier fare.”
“What do you usually eat for breakfast in New York?” Aaron speared a mushroom.
“Oatmeal, eggs and toast, fruit, turkey sausage, a smoothie. Those are the go-to menu items I tend to gravitate to.” She broke off a bite of pancake with the edge of her fork. “I imagine you eat a substantial breakfast too. My sister told me you work at the mill, so I imagine you expend quite a few calories a day. Did you go there right out of school?”
“No. After I got my business degree, I worked in Coos Bay for five years with an investment firm.” As he tacked on the name of the well-known national company that had a branch office a few miles north, he frowned.
