she’s fairly new to town and she should meet the other shopkeepers. Everyone talks about what a wonderful job she did restoring that house. And as a member of the historical society, I’m delighted. If she hadn’t restored it, the town council would have torn down that lovely old place.”
Tyler admitted the two-story house did look spectacular. Painted soft yellow with green shutters and door, it had a white wraparound porch with some curly fretwork in the eaves. But what killed him was that he hadn’t noticed it until today.
Had he had his face that deep in work not to see the simple things going on around him? He’d been working long hours lately. Getting McKay Enterprises into the big-league competition with larger construction companies had been his father’s dream before he died. His father had taken the business regional last year, and in another year Tyler would take the company statewide.
“Yes, I agree Ms. Douglas should join in,” his mother said, breaking into his thoughts. “Perhaps I’ll ask her myself. Diana is the festival chairperson, you know.”
“When is she not?” His mother and her friend headed nearly every committee that existed in Bradford, South Carolina.
“I’d rather you two didn’t march over there and instigate something.” Lane would blame him for it, he thought.
“Really? Why?” When he didn’t jump in with a response, his mother eyed him for a second, then her face lit up.
Oh, man.
Before he could stop her, she blurted, “You’re attracted to her!”
“No, of course not. Well, maybe. It’s hard to say.” Heck. He rubbed his face for a second. It was plain strange. Lane was definitely not his type, whatever his type was. But this was something he sure didn’t want to speculate about with his mother. “I don’t know her at all, but she doesn’t let anyone get close, that’s for sure.”
“Anyone—or you?”
Tyler hadn’t seen her with anyone else but Davis and to the kid she was kind. But to him…well, she’d practically kicked him out the door. “Me.”
“Oh, nonsense. You’re making assumptions, Tyler. You just met her. And let’s remember, you met her after wrecking her car. Not exactly the best first impression, son. But as I recall, she isn’t like the women I’ve seen you date before.”
“It wouldn’t matter. I’m not looking for a wife, so get that gleam out of your eye, okay?”
His mom made a face. “Clarice was never the woman for you. Can’t you get beyond it?”
“No, and you liked her.” It sounded like an accusation, even to him.
His mother frowned distastefully. “I tolerated her because you loved her.”
Well, this was news. “Good grief, Mom, why didn’t you say anything before?”
“It’s a mother’s duty to accept and love the woman her son loves.”
There was no doubt in his mind that she believed that bunk. And no doubt she’d meant well. “In the future, I’d like to hear your opinion.”
She blinked, obviously taken aback. “Why?”
“Because you’re a good judge of character, and besides, it might have saved me the humiliation of learning the truth when I did.”
The week of his wedding. Literally just hours before people were getting on planes to come witness the event. He’d been at a party that some friends were giving them when he heard Clarice say to one of her bridesmaids that she could “put up with anything, even him, for McKay money.” Tyler had ended his engagement in the middle of the party, taken back his grandmother’s ring and left on his honeymoon trip, alone. It still hadn’t been easy coming back to gossip. And he hadn’t told a soul what had happened except his best man—his brother Kyle—and his parents. They had a right to know the truth, but no one else.
He hadn’t cared what Clarice had told anyone. He’d heard enough of her lies to last an eternity, and he wasn’t rising to the bait to defend himself, either. As far as he was concerned, the door was closed on that part of his life. He wasn’t about to repeat the mistake by opening it again. Ever.
“It’s been nearly three years, Tyler.”
“Who’s counting? I’m enjoying myself, Mom, so leave it alone,” he said, then kissed the top of her head and was out the door before she had a chance to hunt him down and reopen the wound.
And just the reminder of that staggering humiliation told him he couldn’t trust his own judgment. Especially when his heart was in for the ride.
Lane curled up in an overstuffed chair, setting the teacup on the end table and wrapping herself in an afghan she didn’t really need. It was a process, she thought, preparing for a ritual evening of reading. Tea, blanket, soft lights and music. The scent of cinnamon cookies on the plate beside her teacup from the bakery next door. Simple pleasures.
She’d never had rituals before moving to Bradford. Never thought she wanted them, never thought how lonely she was, only how alone she wanted to be. In her old life she’d be getting ready for a late dinner and the theater. And turning away from flashbulbs, and microphones shoved in her face.
She shivered and pulled the afghan closer. Her apartment, above the bookshop, had four rooms with a small kitchen. Another kitchen was still downstairs, and she’d had its old breakfast area retooled for moments just like this. A place out of the store traffic where her customers could curl up and read for a bit, chat with friends, discuss a new book.
A small sound broke the silence.
She glanced over her shoulder toward her bedroom. “Hello, Ramses. Too wet outside to prowl?”
The coal-black cat purred, prancing toward her, then paused to rub his cheek against her foot. Satisfied that Lane knew he was gracing her with his presence, the cat lowered his bulk on the braided rug.
The phone rang, startling her. She blinked at it, thinking it might be her father calling to badger her again. At last she answered it.
“Hello, Lane.”
Tyler McKay. He was the last person she’d expected to call. “This is a private number. How did you get it? I should sue the phone company.”
“Can’t. I got your number from Diana Ashbury.”
“I’ll have to overcharge her for the next batch of books she buys.”
He laughed.
“What do you want, Mr. McKay?”
“First, for you to call me Tyler.”
“Will that make you go away?”
“Can’t bet on it. I’m calling to ask if you’ll help with some community service.”
“And what service might that be?”
“The children’s pageant.”
“Oh,
