been part of her life in Indian Lake, especially when she was in high school. It was Joy who filled orders for Mrs. Beabots’s fall bulb list. Her Christmas poinsettias and amaryllis. Joy had loved delivering flowers to Mrs. Beabots, who always invited her in for tea or pastries. Or if she got lucky, a piece of sugar pie. Since Sarah lived next door to Mrs. Beabots, she and Maddie would often meet at Sarah’s house and then the three of them would barge into Mrs. Beabots’s kitchen, help her with dishes or put away groceries and be rewarded with something special right out of the oven.
The clutch at Joy’s chest came from too many memories she’d shoved away and tried, successfully for years, to replace with exciting New York.
“Now, Joy. Tomorrow you must come to my house for dinner.”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose.”
“Too bad. You have a great deal to do here,” Mrs. Beabots said.
“How do you know that?”
“You forget my reputation for knowing what’s happening in this town?”
“I did. So, who told?”
“Why, Adam, of course.”
“Figures.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be your attorney. That would be immoral. Or something.” She waved her hand.
Joy couldn’t help but chuckle. “I bet you kept Grandpa on his toes.”
“Frank was a sucker for my peach cobbler. So were you.”
“I was.”
Mrs. Beabots touched Joy’s arm. “I need to check on something in the kitchen. You probably need to see to the rest of your guests.” She winked and looked over at Adam, who was standing near the kitchen doorway.
Just as Mrs. Beabots turned, Joy asked, “Wait, is that—Adam’s son?”
“It is…” Mrs. Beabots walked to the kitchen.
The shocks kept coming. So, Adam was married? Where was his wife? Had they both been at the church? The funeral was already a blur to her. She barely remembered anything.
A pretty woman about Joy’s age with striking aqua eyes came up. “Joy. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Cate Davis. Kyle Evans told me to give you a call, but since I knew Frank so well, I thought this might be better.”
“Cate? The Realtor?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Kyle said you were anxious to list the greenhouses.”
“Yeah. I have to get back to New York by Thanksgiving.”
“That’s…only six days away.”
“I know. Is there a lot to do?” Joy asked.
“We’re fine. Tell you what. I’ll meet you there tomorrow morning at, say, nine o’clock? I’ll take some photos, work up some comps. I’ll do my best to get back to you by the end of the day or Sunday afternoon.”
“Gee, I hate to take up your weekend.”
“I’m a Realtor. We’re used to it. And we do have some work to do, this being a commercial property. What about the house here?”
“That, too,” Joy said, feeling a sharp pang through her middle. Now that she’d said it out loud, she suddenly wanted to hang on to the house. But she lived in New York. Her life was in New York. Wasn’t it?
Joy saw Adam now standing at the fireplace in the living room. His son was still by his side. The boy had picked up the fireplace poker. She excused herself from Cate and walked toward Adam, overhearing their conversation.
“What’s this, Dad?”
“Titus, put that down. It’s dangerous.”
“But what’s it for?”
“To move the logs around so air gets to the fire.”
“We don’t have one.”
“We have gas logs. They’re safer.”
“Oh,” Titus said and looked up as Joy smiled at him. “Hello.”
“Hello.” She stretched out her hand. “I’m Joy. What’s your name?”
“Titus Masterson. This is my dad. But I know that you already know him. From high school,” Titus said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiling broadly.
“Titus…” Adam used that same warning tone he’d used with Joy.
“Thank you for coming, Adam,” Joy said. “I’m sure Frank would appreciate it.”
“I’m sure he would.”
Titus rocked back on his heels and tugged on his blue blazer. “We were good friends with Mr. Boston. He let me eat peanut butter and crackers in the kitchen.”
“He did?” Adam and Joy chorused.
“Uh-huh. And grape jelly.”
“I suppose the milk was for you, too?” Joy asked.
“Yep. Organic.”
Joy smiled. “I can see why my grandpa liked you, Titus. You’re quite the charmer.”
“Thanks.” Titus grinned.
Joy looked back to the kitchen. “Is your mother coming to the luncheon?” she asked.
“No,” Adam replied sharply.
“She died. She’s in heaven with Mr. Boston,” Titus said matter-of-factly. “When I die I get to see them both.”
Adam put his hand on Titus’s shoulder. “That’s right.”
Joy knew she was blushing with shame. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Adam said, not to Joy but to Titus, who was looking up at him. “It’s been three years since Amie died. Titus and I are doing better.”
“That’s right, Dad. We are.” Titus looked at Joy. “So, is it okay if I have a cupcake?”
“You can have anything you want, Titus. Please. Enjoy.”
“All right!” Titus nearly sprinted away.
“Titus! Slow down! You might trip on that throw rug,” Adam warned.
Joy watched Adam as he stared after Titus. “He’s wonderful.”
“He’s like his mother.”
“He’s
