Or was that just an excuse to see Mitch again? Not that she needed or wanted to see him. But it had been all right talking to him yesterday. And he’d been nice this morning. She felt for the guy now, something she hadn’t expected. But grief had that effect on her. It brought out her inner empath.
It was so very hard to get through the mourning process. Some never did. Losing Arlington had felt like losing her father all over again.
One of her clients had nearly dropped out of acting after his wife had been killed in a freak snowboarding accident.
Harper’s heart had broken for him on a daily basis, seeing how difficult it had been for him. That kind of despair could destroy a person. She’d done a whole lot more listening than talking in that case. She’d learned pretty early on that people who were grieving didn’t expect anyone to fix them or make things better. They just wanted someone to listen to them. And often, they just didn’t want to be alone.
Not always an easy thing to do to justbethere. You had to be comfortable with silence. With just being. She hadn’t always been that way. She was now, but it had taken work and the insight that when she was in that situation, it wasn’t about her. At all. It was about the person who was hurting.
That understanding had taken her a long way. It had helped her create her business. What most people wanted was to be heard. Celebrity or civilian, people wanted to know someone was listening in a meaningful way.
Harper could do that.
Too bad she couldn’t do it here.
She went back to the bedroom and into the bathroom. She brushed her hair, then secured it in a high ponytail. It was a good look for her, because it tightened up her face a bit. Age was no joke.
A little concealer, a swipe of dark brown eyeliner, mascara, a hint of blush, a slick of pink gloss and she was out the door. She took the path through the trees, breaking off a few of the more bothersome branches that encroached on it as she went.
She knocked on the front door.
Joyce answered. She smiled. “Did you get the basket already?”
“What basket?”
Joyce quickly shook her head. “Never you mind, I don’t know what I was saying. What can I do for you, pet?”
“Any chance I could borrow some honey? I forgot to get some at the store.”
“Sure you can. Come on in.”
Harper followed Joyce in, and they went up the steps together. “Those apple cinnamon muffins were to die for, by the way.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed them.” Joyce went into the kitchen and right to a cabinet over the coffee maker. She took out a small squeeze bottle of honey, about half full, but there was a brand-new bottle behind it. “Here you go. You can have it.”
“Thank you.” Harper took the bottle, expecting it to be sticky, but it wasn’t. Nothing escaped Joyce’s watch, it seemed. “I saw Mitch on the deck this morning, having his coffee. He waved at me.”
Joyce smiled. “He’s been in quite a mood since you came to visit yesterday.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Quite a good mood. And busy writing. In his office.” She pointed toward the hall that led off the kitchen.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Harper glanced toward the office. “I’m eagerly awaiting his next book, just like everyone else.”
“Maybe you’ll get an advance copy,” Joyce suggested.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Harper lifted the bottle of honey. “Thanks for this. Now I can have breakfast. Toast with almond butter and honey. One of my favorite easy things to make.”
“You haven’t eaten? Let me make you something.”
“No, no, I’m fine. We had a huge meal last night, so I’m eating late on purpose. Thank you, though. I should let you get back to your work anyway.”
Mitch emerged from the hall, coffee cup in hand. “Harper.”
“Hi. I was just going. I came over to borrow some honey.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you stay for a minute and have a cup of coffee?”
That wasn’t what she’d come over for, but now that he’d offered... “Okay, sure.”
Joyce snagged a mug from a different cabinet and filled it quickly, like she thought Harper might change her mind. “There you are. What do you take in it?”
