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George’s gravelly voice drifted across the aisle. He was talking to Cindy, Mabel realized, one of the owners of the store. “I just can’t decide,” George was saying. “She mentioned needing a new one back in October, said the coating on her old pan was starting to flake off and it wasn’t safe to use anymore. But I don’t know which color she’d prefer.”

Mabel realized with a start that he was picking out her Christmas present.

It wasn’t a romantic present at all. But he’d remembered. She’d been complaining about the pan since October, exactly, and had kept putting off getting a replacement, using other pans that she liked less.

“Well now, George,” Cindy said, “both of these are excellent quality. The sage green is lovely—very on-trend right now. But the navy blue is classic. You can’t go wrong with either one.”

“Well, I want her to have one she loves looking at as well as using,” George said gruffly, and Mabel felt tears suddenly prick at the corners of her eyes as she stood there, frozen at the corner of the aisle. She could see George holding up two heavy-duty cooking pans, examining them with serious concentration.

It wasn’t jewelry or tickets away somewhere or anything extravagant, but it was so perfectly George that Mabel was afraid she might burst into tears completely at any second. George had always been the practical type, and the fact that he was now standing in the middle of the Holly and Ivy Market on a Monday afternoon, earnestly debating between sage green and navy blue because he wanted to get it exactly right for her, made her feel overwhelmed with emotion. It told her that he hadn’t really changed that much—he was still himself, still the man she’d fallen for—but he’d also softened a great deal to be putting so much thought into it.

A tear slipped down Mabel’s cheek, and she brushed it away quickly. She felt ridiculous crying over a cooking pan, but it wasn’t really about the pan at all. It was about the fact that she’d been so wrapped up in her jealousy and insecurity that she’d been avoiding this wonderful man who was standing here worrying about which color she’d prefer.

She was sad about feeling angry at him. Sad that she’d wasted two days being upset when she could have been spending time with him. And, admittedly, still just a tiny bit miffed about Eda Leopold and her fancy cookies and the way she’d looked at George as if he were available to her when, clearly, he was utterly and completely Mabel’s.

“I think I’ll take the sage green,” George said finally, and Mabel could hear the relief in his voice at having made a decision. “It’ll brighten up her kitchen, and⁠—”

Mabel bumped into a display of hot chocolate packets as she wiped her eyes, and several fell to the floor. George turned around, startled, pan in hand, and froze.

His eyes locked on Mabel’s, and she saw surprise flash across his face, followed quickly by something that looked like panic.

“Mabel,” he said, and then immediately tried to hide the pan behind his back, albeit unsuccessfully, as Cindy muffled a laugh.

Despite everything—the jealousy, the sadness, the confusion of the past two days—Mabel felt a smile tug at her lips.

“Hi, George,” she said, biting back a chuckle. “That’s a very nice pan you’re not hiding behind your back.”

George lowered the pan, concern on his face. “Mabel, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Are you all right? I’ve been worried.”

The simple concern made her eyes burn all over again. He wasn’t upset at her, clearly, just worried.

“We need to talk,” Mabel said, abandoning her empty shopping cart as she walked over to him. “I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve been holding my feelings against you when you didn’t do anything wrong.”

George glanced at Cindy, who was watching this exchange with poorly concealed interest. “Um, I’ll take the pan,” he said. “Could you ring me up?”

“Of course,” Cindy said, her eyes sparkling with what Mabel recognized as the particular glee of someone witnessing small-town drama. “Take your time.”

George gave Mabel a worried look, and then followed Cindy to the counter. “No need to wrap it,” he said gruffly. “I’ll handle all that.”

He paid for the pan quickly, and then walked outside with Mabel, who had given up all pretense of shopping. They stepped out into the cold December afternoon, and the door chimed merrily behind them as it closed. Main Street bustled with holiday shoppers, but George led her around the side of the building to a quieter spot near the alley entrance, where they’d have some privacy.

He set the shopping bag with the pan at his feet and paused, waiting. Mabel could see the lines of concern on his brow.

She took a deep breath, watching it form a small cloud in the cold air. “It’s about the widow,” she admitted finally. “Eda Leopold. I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she added with a short laugh, “but she’s been very interested in you. The way she approached you when she first met you, the cookies, the way she’s always so perfectly put together—” Mabel paused, searching for the right words. “It made me feel invisible. Inadequate. Like I couldn’t compete with someone like her, someone so polished and wealthy and sophisticated.”

George’s eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t interrupt, so Mabel continued.

“I know it’s silly. I know you were just being polite to a guest at the B&B. But watching her touch your arm and laugh at everything you said, and then showing up with those fancy imported cookies…” Mabel shook her head. “It brought up all these insecurities I didn’t even know I had. And instead of talking to you about it like an adult, I ran away and avoided your calls like a teenager.”

She looked down at her hands, ashamed. “I’m sorry, George. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then George reached out and gently tilted her chin up so she had to meet his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” he asked, and there was hurt in his voice now. “If you were feeling that way, I wish you’d told me. We could have talked about it right then, cleared everything up.”

“I know,” Mabel said miserably. “I should have. But I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to seem like a jealous, insecure woman making a fuss over nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it upset you,” George said firmly. He took both of her hands in his, his grip warm and steady. “Listen to me. Being with you—it’s made me feel as if my life has completely changed since we’ve gotten together. I’ve said as much to you before.”