and reception, had been simplicity itself. Even years after the fact, she’d obviously wanted no reminders of the elaborate affair she and Nick had once planned.
Amy pulled the car to a stop under the sweeping arms of an ancient maple and glanced at the rearview mirror. As she watched the dark blue truck rumble to a stop behind her, she wondered if Paige knew Nick was back.
The slam of his door reverberated like a gunshot in the stillness surrounding her grandmother’s venerable old house. Her own door echoed the sound a second later, birds scattering from the high pitch of the gabled cedar roof to settle in the trees and along the telephone line running in from the road.
Wishing she could bolt, too, she watched him walk toward her in the dappled sunlight. Pine needles and gravel crunched heavily beneath his boots as he looked from the pristine white house with its butterscotch-yellow trim to the rippling blue water of the deep glacial lake.
A wooden dock, its boards weathered to silver gray and edged with lichen, jutted alongside a boathouse painted with the same cheery trim as the main house. Except for the broad expanse of lawn carpeting the land to the bare earth near the water’s edge, the property was surrounded by woods.
The set of Nick’s guarded features never changed when his glance shifted to her.
“I can think of worse places to spend the summer.”
It really was lovely there. Quiet, peaceful. The nearest neighbor was on the other side of the little lake, too far away to be seen, much less heard.
“It’s probably the best part about being here,” she conceded, hoisting her bag over her shoulder as she headed past the wide side porch to the back where the porch was enclosed. She had truly loved every moment she’d spent there as a child, swimming in the cool, clear water, sunning on the dock with her friends while they listened to the radio and giggled over bags of chips and Seventeen magazines.
“I don’t know if you remember much about the house from before,” she continued, determined to stick to business, “but Grandma wants her new bedroom to be the same size as her old one. The back porch is a little bigger, but I think it would work.”
“I don’t remember anything about this place. I was never here.”
“You weren’t?”
The genuine surprise in her eyes faded the instant she looked up at him. She’d thought for certain that Paige would have brought him out here when they’d been together. This house was like the cornerstone of their family. But the way he was watching her, studying her as if he might be trying to figure out what he recalled about her, short-circuited the thoughts.
Doubting he remembered much about her at all, she glanced from the compelling blue of his eyes and focused on climbing the back steps.
He was right behind her, the wooden stairs groaning at his greater weight.
“When did you move to Eau Claire?” he asked over the squeak of a loose board.
As soon as I could, she thought. “About seven years ago.”
“I take it that the rest of your family has moved away, too.”
Not sure why he would assume such a thing, she opened the screen door, holding it back for him. “Everyone is still right here in town.”
“Your parents and Paige still live in Cedar Lake?”
“You sound surprised that they’re still here.”
“I am.”
Truly puzzled, she glanced behind her as he grabbed the door. “Why?”
“Because it doesn’t make any sense.”
“That they’d still be here?”
His tone went as flat as the lake. “It doesn’t make any sense that you came from two hours away to take care of this for your grandmother when your mom, dad and sister live within ten minutes of the place.”
He stood with one arm stretched out as he held the door, his broad chest blocking her view of the overgrown garden, his carved features knitted in a frown. She was aware of his nearness, his size and his obvious incomprehension. Mostly, she was aware that she wasn’t moving.
She stepped onto the enclosed porch, ignoring for now the chairs and chaises that needed to be wiped down and the potted plants she’d watered when she’d arrived yesterday but still needed to trim. Her mother simply hadn’t had time to give them their usual care while Bea had been convalescing. After three months of hit-and-miss tending, Amy figured they were lucky to still be alive.
“My family is busy,” she defended, on her way to the middle of the expansive, screened-in area. “Summer is Mom’s busiest time of year for house sales. Dad has been spending a lot of time out of town on a big audit. And Paige has a husband, two little girls, a big house and her Junior League committees to keep up with. No one else has the time except me.”
She’d thought for certain that mention of Paige and her family would give him pause. At the very least, the mention of her being married should raise an eyebrow, providing, of course, that he didn’t already know.
All he did when she stopped to face him was give her a slow, disbelieving blink.
“So they go on with their lives while you put yours on hold.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” she replied, not caring for the way the thought made her feel.
“I would.”
She already felt disquieted by him. The feeling only increased with his flatly delivered statement. “My only plans this summer were to take a course I need to keep my teaching certificate current and to spend a month in Europe prowling museums. I can take the class in the fall and do the museum tour next year. I’ve already postponed it twice, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that Junior League was more important than classes and a vacation.”
“Junior League does charity work,” she informed him, determined to maintain her position. “Being involved in the community is important, too.”
Nick’s brow furrowed as he watched her glance slide from his. A person would have to possess the sensitivity of a stone not to notice how completely she’d minimized and dismissed her own plans, or how staunchly she stood up for the more self-focused members of her family. Especially Paige. His ex-fiancée had probably been the first to come up with a list of excuses about why she couldn’t handle the responsibility Amy had so willingly taken on.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re the only one who thinks your grandmother doesn’t belong where she is?”
Because you’re incredibly astute, she thought. “I don’t know,” she replied, preferring not to discuss family disagreements with him, or be impressed by his insight. “Why do you?”
“For one thing, you’re the only one willing to be inconvenienced.”
“I told you—”
“Yeah. I know. They’re busy,” he muttered. “You don’t need to defend your family to me, Amy. I was just trying to make
