attention and she glanced in that direction. The girl was jiggling her bit of yarn in front of Buttons. Hazel’s cat was trying to bat at it with one of her front paws, much to Joy’s delight.
Verity turned back to see Hazel rotating the hat this way and that, trying to view it from all angles. Wetting her lips and affecting a casual expression, Verity gave in to the urge to do a little probing. “Have you met your new neighbor yet?”
“You mean Mr. Cooper?” Hazel glanced out the door, as if she could see around the corner to his shop. “Just casually. He seems rather mysterious, don’t you think, just showing up here out of the blue?” Her eyes sparkled with saucy speculation. “I know he’s a friend of Adam Barr’s, but still, one can’t help but wonder what his story is. Especially when he looks right at you with those striking eyes.”
Verity popped her hand on her hip in mock outrage. “Hazel Theresa Andrews, I thought you were sweet on the sheriff. Has another man finally caught your fancy?”
Hazel tossed her head. “I’m getting tired of waiting for Ward Gleason to take notice of me. It certainly won’t hurt anything to let him know I have options.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask? Do you have your eye on Mr. Cooper?”
Seeing the speculation in her friend’s expression, Verity tilted her chin up defensively. “Don’t be silly. I don’t even know the man.”
“He didn’t happen to be outside his store when you walked by just now, did he?”
Hazel was too perceptive by half. “He was. And yes, we chatted for a moment. But only because Joy wanted to pet his dog. You know she can’t pass by an animal without wanting to play with it.”
“So you did meet him.”
“Not exactly.” She waved a hand. “I mean, no introductions were exchanged. But saying hello was the neighborly thing to do.” Verity mentally cringed when she heard the defensive note creep into her voice.
And of course Hazel pounced right on it. “Well, now, isn’t this an interesting turn of events. Our meek-as-a-lamb, practical-as-prunes Verity is interested in the very rugged and far-from-meek-looking Mr. Cooper.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, drawing herself up even straighter. “I have no interest in the man beyond a natural curiosity.”
“Of course you don’t.” But from the knowing smile on Hazel’s lips, Verity could tell her friend didn’t believe her protests. It was time to steer this conversation in a different direction.
“Thanks for letting Joy play with Buttons,” she said. “She looks forward to it whenever I tell her I’m headed over here.”
To Verity’s relief, Hazel accepted the change of subject as she carried the hat to the nearby cheval glass. “Buttons enjoys it, too,” her friend said absently as she placed the hat on her head at a sassy angle. Then she preened, turning and tilting her head different ways to admire the effect. “Oh, I love it, especially the flirty way the brim is folded. If it wasn’t yellow I’d consider keeping it for myself.” She glanced over her shoulder at Verity. “Yellow never was my color.”
Verity disagreed. With Hazel’s vivacious red-gold hair and sparkling green eyes, there was very little that didn’t look good on her. But she kept her opinion to herself.
Hazel removed the hat and turned back around. “Now, you on the other hand, with that gorgeous mahogany-colored hair and your fair complexion, would look stunning in this.”
“Not particularly suitable mourning attire,” Verity said drily.
Hazel sighed dramatically. “I’ve already said my piece on that subject. But I can tell your mind is made up.” Then she shrugged. “Ah, well, it’ll look nice in the window next to that lavender dress with the scrumptious lace.”
Verity fidgeted with her sleeve. “I do wish you’d let me pay you something for displaying my hats in your shop.”
“Well, I won’t, so let’s hear no more about it.” Hazel patted a few stray hairs back in place before moving away from the mirror. “And don’t think it’s because I’m feeling altruistic. I’m getting something out of it, too. My sales have definitely gone up since your hats went on display next to my dresses.”
Verity had been thinking lately that she’d like to open a millinery shop of her own one day, and Hazel’s words gave her an added nudge in that direction. Despite Uncle Grover’s and Aunt Betty’s assertions that they liked having her and Joy stay with them, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—live on their charity forever. It had been fifteen months since that awful day Arthur was killed. It was time for her to move on with her life, to decide what kind of future she wanted for herself and Joy.
If she could start her own business and make a go of it, she might just be able to afford to have a home of her own again. But there was so much risk involved in such an undertaking, risks she wasn’t sure she could afford to take. It definitely wasn’t a step to take lightly. For one thing she’d have to save up more money before she could even get started. And what if she failed? Besides, the one time she’d mentioned it to Uncle Grover, he’d counseled her about all the pitfalls she could face and she’d gotten the impression he didn’t think it was something she should even attempt.
Still, every time she allowed herself to dream about the future she wanted for herself and Joy, the yearning to take more control of her life grew.
“Have you heard about the plans for the Founders’ Day celebration?”
Verity pushed away her daydreams and focused on Hazel’s question. “You mean there’s going to be more to it than the town picnic this year?”
“A lot more. Ever since Mayor Sanders realized this is the seventy-fifth anniversary of Turnabout’s founding, he’s wanted to do something special, which to him means something bigger and flashier.”
That was Mayor Sanders, all right. Some things about this town never changed.
“He’s talking about a grand festival,” Hazel continued, “sort of like a county fair, with games, contests, food, performances. He’s even talking about bringing in a traveling circus or an acting troupe.”
Verity listened with only half an ear as Hazel recounted the discussion from yesterday’s town council meeting. Instead, her thoughts drifted back to Mr. Cooper.
Hazel was wrong. She wasn’t taken with the man. Well, not exactly. She was merely curious about him. When she looked into his intense eyes, she still got the sense of something controlled but dangerous. Yet seeing him with that little lapdog had contradicted that impression. Showing kindness to a small animal and speaking of putting down roots seemed to indicate a man who was compassionate and responsible.
Which was the real man? Or was it possible he could be a combination of both?
The sound of a dog barking outside made her think again of the small dog itself. Beans—what a whimsical name for the animal.
Perhaps someday—there was that nebulous someday again—if she could find a similar lapdog, one that she knew was well behaved, she could get it for Joy.
Verity glanced over her shoulder to check on her daughter again, but neither the five-year-old nor the cat was in the same spot any longer.
