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“That’s because you were about a million miles away,” he observed, gesturing toward her largely untouched meal. “Either my corn chowder has suddenly lost all its appeal, or you’ve got something pretty significant weighing on your mind.”

Mabel sighed. “I wish I were able to turn off my brain today,” she admitted, rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to ease the tension headache that had been building all morning. “Sometimes I think life would be so much simpler if we could just flip a switch and stop our minds from running in circles.”

Jackson studied her face for a moment, then surprised her by sliding into the booth across from her. The diner was busy with the lunch rush, but there was a line of concern between his brows, and Mabel realized with a pang of guilt that he was worried about her.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked kindly, that smile still on his face. “You know I’m a pretty good listener, and sometimes it helps to get things out of your head and into the open air.”

Mabel hesitated. She’d been resisting talking about this with anyone. She knew how foolish it all was, deep down, but she couldn’t shake the feelings. And a part of her worried that if she said any of it out loud, it would make it all more real somehow. That what seemed ridiculous would actually be plausible if she gave voice to it.

But she also knew that Jackson was right, that keeping everything bottled up inside was only making her anxiety worse.

“It’s probably nothing,” she began slowly, already second-guessing her decision to confide in him. “I’m probably just being silly and reading too much into a perfectly innocent situation.”

“Still, it’ll probably help to talk about it,” Jackson said affably. “What happened?”

Mabel took a deep breath and started to recount the encounter at the B&B, beginning with her coming to bring George lunch, the widow in the living room, her introduction to George and her reaction to him. As she spoke, she watched Jackson’s expression carefully, looking for any sign that he thought she was overreacting or being unreasonably possessive. Or, worse, that she was actually right to be concerned about it.

“I know George didn’t do anything wrong,” she concluded, her voice slightly defensive. “He was just being polite, just treating her the way he would treat anyone he had a conversation with. But there was something about the way she looked at him, like she saw him as fair game despite the fact that we were obviously together.”

Jackson chuckled, although not dismissively. More as if he thought the whole thing was as silly as Mabel had known it was—but not that she was silly, which she appreciated.

“Mabel Stewart,” he said, shaking his head with fond exasperation, “do you have any idea how much George Lowery changed after you came into his life? That man went from being a grump who spent most of his time at home to someone who actually gets out and does things. I think you’ve added ten years to his life at least. And he lights up like a Christmas tree every time someone mentions your name.”

Mabel felt a flutter of warmth in her chest at Jackson’s words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the anxiety that refused to go away. “I know he cares about me,” she said quietly. “I’m not questioning that, exactly. It’s just…”

“It’s just that you’re worried this wealthy widow might sweep in and turn his head?” Jackson finished for her, chuckling.

“When you put it like that, it sounds even more ridiculous,” Mabel admitted, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” Jackson assured her. “You care about him, so naturally you’re going to feel a little jealous of what the two of you have. But Mabel, I’ve seen the way George looks at you. There’s no way he’s interested in some stranger, no matter how sophisticated she might seem. You know as well as I do he barely dated before the two of you got together. He’s not going to go jumping ship now.”

Mabel wanted desperately to believe him, to let his reassuring words chase away the doubts that had been eating at her. Jackson knew George as well as she did. He was definitely qualified to give advice, but she found herself struggling to let it go. She felt like a fool for worrying so much, but she’d feel even more like one, she thought, if George was paying attention to Eda’s advances. And who knew? At his age, maybe he was enjoying having not one, but two women interested in him after all these years.

“You really think so?” she asked, hating how anxious her voice sounded. She was a grandmother, for crying out loud, she shouldn’t need reassurance from her grandson-in-law, she thought irritably.

“I know so,” Jackson said firmly. “That man is head over heels in love with you. Anyone with eyes can see it. Some flirtatious widow isn’t going to change that, no matter how hard she might try.”

Mabel thought back to two Christmases ago—to dragging George to the market to find the perfect cider and ending up visiting all the other booths on the way there, their first kiss in front of the gazebo he’d so painstakingly built, their first date ice skating. Dancing together at the town Christmas party. Caring for him while he had the flu last Christmas. Picking out the first tree they’d decorate together from his farm. All the sweet looks and kisses and quiet moments together that they’d shared over the past two years.

All of that, added together, couldn’t be undone by one wealthy, sophisticated woman flirting with him, Mabel told herself. She needed to convince herself that she was reading too much into it before her jealousy did real damage to her relationship.

“You’re right,” she said finally, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders begin to ease. “I’ve been letting my imagination run away with me. George has given me no reason to doubt his feelings, and I’m not being fair to him by assuming the worst.”

Jackson smiled. “Besides,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “if some fancy widow did try to steal your man, I have complete confidence in your ability to set her straight. I’ve seen your pranks. You’re not exactly the type to go down without a fight.”

Mabel couldn’t help but laugh at that, remembering some of the more creative pranks she’d orchestrated over the years in her friendly prank war with George. “I suppose I do have a certain reputation to uphold,” she agreed, feeling lighter than she had in days.

“That’s the spirit,” Jackson said, starting to slide out of the booth. “Now, are you going to finish that chowder, or am I going to have to take it personally that you’re not eating my cooking?”

Mabel looked down at her bowl, suddenly realizing that she was actually hungry for the first time all day. The knot of anxiety in her stomach had loosened considerably. “It does smell delicious,” she admitted, picking up her spoon. “And I do feel better.”

“Good,” Jackson said, clearly satisfied. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it in peace. But Mabel? Try not to worry so much. You and George are solid. Don’t let some stranger make you forget that.”

She wouldn’t worry about it anymore at all, Mabel told herself firmly as she dug into the delicious, creamy chowder, breaking off a chunk of the sourdough bread to dunk into it. She would enjoy her lunch, head back to the shop, and see George tonight without giving that irritating widow another thought.

She was halfway through the bowl when the diner’s bell chimed. Mabel glanced up automatically and felt her mood lift even further when she saw Vanessa stepping through the door, bundled up in what had to be the most ridiculous Christmas outfit Mabel had ever seen.

Vanessa was wearing the ugly Christmas sweater again, the outlandish decorations made even more noticeable by the way they were stretched over her bump. She’d put on the ridiculous Christmas hat that she’d gotten from Mabel as well, and as if that wasn’t enough, she’d wrapped red velvet ribbon around her stomach, topping it all off with a huge red velvet bow.