One thing was for certain. With her name the only one on the Haven House deed, he was no longer welcome here.
When the house creaked, everything inside her tensed. It was just the normal groan of wood, holding and releasing its breath after a long day. Thankfully, Simon was far away from Catawba. France. England. Maybe even Germany. She didn’t know or even care, as long as an ocean stretched wide between them.
Her gaze fell to the window ledge, to the labeled jars containing seeds for her night garden. In the end, she thought, the moonflowers would see everything.
31:Harper
SEPTEMBER 2006
The doorbell rang before Harper had taken her first sip of coffee. With the steaming mug in hand, she glanced through the peephole and saw Finn Sterling, way too awake before the breakfast hour.
She wanted to ignore him, but she wasn’t going to run again. Instead, she’d confront the opposition head-on.
At the clap of the door knocker, she jumped, sloshing dark roast onto her bare feet and the tile.
“Hang on,” she shouted, fumbling with the sticky bolt.
When she finally opened the door, he glanced at the puddle around her toes. “New foot spa?”
“I’m still waking up, Finn,” she practically growled. “Don’t mess with me.”
“So you’re the cheery morning type?” While she wore a Malibu T-shirt and pajama shorts, he was all suited up, but instead of something professional like a briefcase, he carried a tinfoil-covered pan.
“Very funny.” She eyed the red oven mitts on his hands, wondering why he was at her door. “Via Belle kept me up until much too late again.”
“Silver Summer?”
“Moonflower Lake.”She’d tried to distract herself from Kelsey’s news about Miles, but it hadn’t worked.
“Ah.” He stepped around the spilled brew and moved toward the kitchen like he was well-acquainted with the Sutton house.
She closed the door and followed him down the hall. “Now who’s trespassing?”
“Listen, Harper,” he said, setting the ceramic dish on the stovetop before tossing both mitts beside it. “I’m sorry that I was... well, I was planning to sayinsensitive, but Gram said I was an idiot. I apologize for being both.”
She took another sip of coffee. “What’s in that dish?”
“Baked oatmeal covered in fresh blueberries from the farm.”
“Did your grandmother make it?”
“I’m afraid not.” He peeled back the foil, and she could smell cinnamon and brown sugar. “This came straight from my oven.”
“So your mother then...”
He surprised her with a pleasant sort of laugh. “You’ll be surprised to learn that I can actually find my way around a kitchen.”
“Shocked, actually.”
“I thought you might be hungry.”
“You were right about that.” She practically drooled over the golden topping of coconut and butter, but she couldn’t quite reconcile this complicated man baking her oatmeal.
“Did Marcia and Gerald leave you any plates?”
She grabbed two from the cabinet while he dug out forks. “It’s nice of you to bring breakfast.”
“A peace offering?”
