Grace blinked at him.
“Perfect!” Molly bounced on her toes. “There you go then.”
A beat of uncomfortable silence passed.
Grace mushed her lips.
The brother glanced between Wyatt and Grace.
“Great,” Grace said finally. “It’s not far. Are you ready then?”
Wyatt hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “Whenever you are.”
***
Grace headed down the porch, Wyatt on her heels. At least she thought he was. The man was as stealthy as a mountain lion. She’d planned to slip out of the house unnoticed, and she certainly hadn’t planned on escorting Wyatt into town.
He made her nervous. All she’d done so far was embarrass herself in front of him. He probably thought she was a loon. Maybe she was. Who had a panic attack at the sight of a feeble old lady?
But it hadn’t been the old lady. It had been the van. The one that had riddled her childhood with nightmares. The one that had caused her to miss so many days of second grade that she’d been held back.
Even after all these years some things still triggered her: the sound of tires squealing, the first scent of summer in the air, the crunch of gravel under her feet. And now the van.
She shook away the memory. She’d been through counseling as a child. Her doting parents and concerned siblings were almost smothering. After months and months of remembering, she just wanted to forget. She finally told her family to stop. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d bring it up. They finally acquiesced. It had been years since there’d been a single reference to that early summer day.
But Grace had not forgotten.
Heaven knew she’d turned those memories over and over in her mind last night. But she wasn’t letting them intrude on her daytime too.
The morning was pleasant, at least: sunny, midseventies, slight breeze.
She hit the sidewalk and turned toward town. Wyatt came beside her, street side, and matched his pace to hers. Her heart gave a heavy thump at his sudden nearness.
“So, tell me about your outfitters business.”
Grace was relieved at the neutral topic. “I started it last year, running it out of the inn, basically. I have a decent web presence and have managed to accumulate some quality equipment. We’ll be selling the inn shortly, though, so I need to find a retail space for it.”
“Why are you selling the inn?”
“That was always the plan—get it established as a business, then sell it. My brother will be moving to California—his fiancée lives there—and Molly wants to move to Tuscany and eventually open an inn.”
“You’re the only one staying here then?”
She’d expected him to react to the Italy thing. Most people did. Grace shrugged. “It’s home.”
“Your parents live here?”
“They passed a while back.”
She felt his gaze on her for a long moment. “Sorry to hear that.”
“So, yes, it’ll be just me.” Even she heard the forlorn note in her voice. What would Bluebell be without her family? She guessed she’d soon find out.
“You’ll miss them, your siblings.”
“Of course. But I have friends, and this is a close-knit community. Sometimes too much so, if you know what I mean. What do you think of the area so far?”
He nodded as they crossed the street. “Nice. Scenic. Plenty to do.”
