mother held out her hand. “So nice to meet you, Kate. Won’t you join us?”
Before Kate had a chance to respond, Jamie burst into the conversation. “Hi, I’m Jamie Whiting. Not James, cause that’s my grandpa’s name. Sometimes Grammy calls him Jimmy to tease him, but she always calls me Jamie. Does anybody call you Katie?”
Kate looked a bit stunned at Jamie’s conversational style, but she managed to make a recovery. “Hi, Jamie. No, nobody calls me Katie. Just Kate, okay?”
“Okay. Grammy says you should always call people what they want to be called, because nicknames can hurt people’s feelings. Aren’t you going to sit down?”
Under the pressure of that wide, innocent blue gaze, Kate sat in a chair, but she perched on the edge of it, as if ready to make a quick retreat.
Mac reached across to hand Jamie another napkin. “Maybe if you’d slow down a bit, somebody else could talk.”
Jamie just grinned at him, but he subsided.
“Mom, Kate’s brother was Jason Reilley. You remember—the young man who passed away last year.” He glanced at Jamie, but his nephew was deeply engaged in eating the last crumb of his treat.
His mother’s eyes filled with quick sympathy. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. That was just tragic. You must miss him terribly.”
As usual, his mother had moved straight to the heart, and he saw Kate’s lips tremble for an instant. “Yes,” she murmured. “I do miss him.”
“Losing someone is never easy, but I always think it’s especially hard when it’s a young person.” His mother clasped Kate’s hand. “Naturally you must have wanted to see where he lived.”
Funny. He’d assumed she’d wanted to see where her brother had died, but Mom jumped to the opposite conclusion. And she must be right, judging by the way Kate was looking at her—with a kind of startled surprise at meeting understanding from a stranger.
His mother never stayed a stranger with anyone for long. In a few minutes she’d elicited the fact that Kate had lost her job with a Baltimore newspaper in a series of cutbacks.
“I’m not the only one.” She shrugged off an expression of sympathy. “People seem to rely on the internet for their news these days, not the daily paper.”
“Laurel Ridge must be the exception, then.” He decided it was time he got back into the conversation. “We still have to have our daily dose of the Laurel Ridge Standard, don’t we?”
Mom chuckled. “How else would we know what was going on in town? The grapevine is good, but we have to see some things in print to believe them.”
“Myself, I’d say gossip is more interesting.” Anna appeared, setting a mug of coffee in front of Kate without being asked. “But there’s nothing like the newspaper for seeing who’s got what for sale. My boy Luke just got a perfectly good harrow from someone who was going to pay to have it hauled away as junk.”
Kate looked startled at the server’s entering the discussion, as well she might. He suspected Laurel Ridge had a few surprises in store for her.
“Anna, this is Kate Beaumont. She’s visiting Laurel Ridge for a bit.”
“Ach, gut.” Anna’s round face beamed. “Wilkom. I’ll be seeing you in the Buttercup, then, ain’t so?”
“I guess so. I’m staying right across the street.”
“Mrs. Anderson’s.” She nodded. “I guessed as much. Will you be having some lunch? The chicken pot pie, maybe?”
“Just a salad, please. To take out.”
“I’m sure you’re busy getting settled in,” Mom said, wiping Jamie’s hands and face despite his protests. “We’ve delayed you long enough, and I must get this boy back to school.”
“Do I have to...” Jamie began, but he subsided at a look from his grandmother. Sliding from his chair, he gave Mac a throttling hug and turned to Kate. “See you again soon, okay?”
Kate smiled, her expression softening. “It was nice to meet you, Jamie.”
“I hope we’ll have a chance to get better acquainted while you’re here,” Mom said, touching Kate’s shoulder lightly. “I know Grace Anderson will make you comfortable. Her rooms are lovely.”
“I’m sure they are. I’m actually renting the cottage, and it’s...charming.”
Did he really hear an infinitesimal pause before the final word? It seemed to him it was far from charming for her to be living in the very rooms where her brother had spent his last days.
He waved to Jamie, who’d paused at the door for a last look, and then turned back to Kate.
“Your little boy is a sweetheart,” she said quickly, maybe to forestall any criticism from him.
“My little nephew,” he corrected. “Jamie is my brother Nick’s boy. I’m not married.”
“I see.” She seemed to be readjusting her thoughts.
It wouldn’t be any of his business where she stayed, if it weren’t for his instinct that she was hiding something. He couldn’t shake his conviction that a big-city reporter wouldn’t be spending time in Laurel Ridge without an agenda. Bluntness was probably the only way he’d get an answer.
“Why are you living in the cottage? What are you after in Laurel Ridge?”
Kate flared up at that, as he’d expected. “I’m not after anything. Besides, wouldn’t you do the same, if it was your brother?”
What exactly was the passion that flamed in her eyes and made her skin flush? Not grief, he thought. Or at least, not only grief. Something more.
He took a moment, and then tried to respond honestly. “If I lost Nick all of a sudden, I don’t know what I’d do. It would be like losing part of myself.”
Their eyes met. Held. She looked stunned, vulnerable, and that very vulnerability had the power to draw him in. To make him want to touch her, comfort her.
But he couldn’t. Not when he didn’t know what she was going to bring to his town.
Deliberately he went on. “But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t try to retrace his final steps. Not unless I was looking for something. What are you looking for, Kate?”
Watching her face then was like watching ice form on the river. She stared at him as if he’d just crawled out from under a rock. Not bothering to deny it, she rose, slung her bag strap over her shoulder and headed for the counter, probably to wait for her order.
He gazed at her for a long moment. No good trying to get anything more from her now. The rigid line of her back told him that much.
Maybe it was just as well that he’d said something to infuriate her again, because when she’d looked at him with vulnerability in those golden-brown eyes, he’d have had a tough time holding on to his own good judgment.
