Marigold followed her, a big smile on her face.
“I’ll let you tend to the little ones,” Mrs. Fournier said. “But I’m in the phone book. You call anytime I can help out, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in town.”
The older woman continued down the path toward Moose Avenue, leaving Jillian free to embrace Posey, who was still moving at a full sprint.
“Wow,” Jillian said, lifting her daughter in her arms. “You’re so fast.”
Posey replied with another peal of bright laughter, and Mari arrived just as Jillian was putting Posey down.
“There’s an ice cream store,” Posey called out. “Can we go to it, Mama, please?”
Jillian glanced over at the shop, her stomach twisting.
The Lawrences owned the ice cream shop and stocked it with dairy from their farm, which was just past her grandparents’ place on Fox Hollow Road. The Lawrences were beloved in town, and she knew she was bound to see them around at some point. But there was one Lawrence in particular that Jillian wasn’t looking forward to bumping into.
What were the chances that Tripp Lawrence would be at the shop though? Surely he had a job in the city by now.
As if summoned by the mere thought, a man hopped into the bed of the pickup truck in front of the shop, hoisting up a huge barrel of ice cream and balancing it on one broad shoulder.
He was big as a lumberjack now, but Jillian wouldhave known that dark hair and athletic posture anywhere. Somehow, Tripp Lawrence always had the build of a quarterback and the grace of a dancer. And he’d put both gifts to good use as the star center on the hockey team back in school.
She watched as he leaped out of the truck and headed for the ice cream shop. He was bigger and taller now, but otherwise just the same, right down to that lanky, lazy gait that always got him where he was going faster than anyone else because of those long legs.
He was still Tripp Lawrence.
And the sight of him still made her cheeks burn.
“Wow,” Mari said. “Is that ice cream in there?”
“It’s a lot, and a lot, and alotof ice cream,” Posey sang out, sounding like she was sugar-drunk already.
“I think we’d better get to your great-grandparents’ house before the ice cream we got at the grocery store has time to melt,” Jillian told them gently, hoping the reminder of their own ice cream might cushion the blow a little. “But maybe this weekend we can check out the shops in town.”
“Okay,” Mari said sadly.
It broke Jillian’s heart that the girls didn’t argue with her. She tried her best never to let them see she was hurting, but sometimes she felt like they were the ones treating her with kid gloves.
I’ll do better,she told herself firmly.Every day is a fresh chance to show them what resilience looks like.
“Are you excited to see the house?” she asked the girls, smiling and taking their hands. “Do you remember what I told you is inthe backyard?”
“A tire swing,”both girls yelled at once, their high spirits bouncing back instantly.
“Yes,” Jillian told them as she led them to the car. “And it’s big enough for both of you to swing on together.”
“Just like you and Aunt Amberlee,” Mari said.
“Exactly,” Jillian agreed. “We had so much fun playing in Gram and Grampy’s big backyard. And now you will too.”
“Gram and Grampy need our help,” Posey said softly as Jillian opened the car for her and helped her untangle the straps of her booster seat.
“Yes,” Jillian said. “We’ll get to help them around the house. And they’ll help me keep an eye onyou little scamps.”
She poked Posey’s belly, which predictably cracked her up.
Mari was quiet in the seat beside her sister, but Mari had always been more thoughtful. Their dynamic reminded Jillian of her own sisterhood—she had been older and more serious, while Amberlee was the energetic, wild one.
“Here we go,” Jillian told them, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Do you remember visiting here before, Mari?”
