“Tell me about it. Imagine being confined in the same house with him 24/7.”
She winced. “No thank you. He is cute, though.”
“Trust me—cuteness doesn’t compensate for all the noise.” Logan angled toward Molly. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go back to the house.”
The child trudged toward them, one finger in her mouth, the same faded, frayed blanket she’d been clutching two days ago gripped in her hand.
Jeannette studied her as she approached. Her pants and top were mismatched but clean, and her hair had been brushed and secured into a lopsided ponytail. Someone was trying to look after her.
Logan?
That seemed like a safe bet.
Which would suggest the mother was AWOL—and could explain why Molly had been living with her grandmother.
Toby skipped around the child as she drew close, and she gave him a cautious, quick pat.
Not much bonding had taken place yet between girl and dog.
Nor did she and Logan seem to be close. The girl didn’t appear to be wary of the man, but she kept her distance. Like he was someone she wasn’t quite comfortable with or didn’t know well.
And that could be the case, if he’d been an absentee father—as his comments suggested.
“We’ll get out of your hair and let you get back to whatever you were doing. Sorry again for disturbing you.” Logan folded the girl’s hand in his and took a step toward the driveway.
“Wait.” The impulsive directive spilled out as an idea popped into her mind.
He stopped and shifted toward her, eyebrows arched.
A few beats ticked by as she tried without success to fathom why she’d wanted to delay his departure.
But whatever the reason, she was stuck now.
As the silence lengthened, she linked her fingers into a tight knot. “I, uh, have something for you, if you can wait a minute.”
“Sure. As long as it’s not a summons about my dog.” A touch of humor glinted in his irises.
Her pulse picked up.
The man had gorgeous baby blues.
“No. Nothing like that. I’ll, uh, be right back.” She escaped to the tearoom kitchen.
Once inside, she gripped the edge of the counter and forced herself to take several slow, deep breaths.
She shouldn’t have stopped him from leaving. It wasn’t wise to prolong contact with the threesome next door if she wanted to keep her distance.
But there was no going back at this point.
Her only option was to follow through on her idea and say her good-byes as quickly as possible.
She crossed to the racks where the latest batch of lavender shortbread was cooling. After slipping six of the cookies into one of the cellophane bags she used to package her sweets for the farmer’s market, she tied it with a lavender ribbon.
Molly would like that touch. After they ate the cookies, she could tie the ribbon around the stretchy band holding her ponytail in place. Most little girls were partial to ribbons.
But Molly isn’t the main reason you’re being kind, you know.
She exhaled.
Yeah, yeah. She knew.
Still . . . Logan and Molly were new neighbors—and it was customary to welcome newcomers with a token gift of some kind, wasn’t it?
You never made a single overture of friendship to the previous owner, though.
Scowling, she snuffed out the annoying voice in her head.
This was different.
The crotchety old man who’d lived there when she’d moved in should have been the one to extend the hand of friendship to her.
Logan, on the other hand, was trying to be an agreeable neighbor.
The cookies were simply a considerate gesture. Nothing more.
Beribboned bag in hand, she returned to the trio on her patio and held out the package. “A belated welcome-to-Hope-Harbor present. It’s lavender shortbread—a house specialty. And the pretty ribbon would be perfect for a ponytail.” She winked at Molly.
The girl gave her a shy smile.
“Wow.” Logan took the bag. “That’s very kind of you, after all the trouble my friend here has caused.” He tipped his head toward the pup.
“I appreciate your efforts to rectify the situation. I’m sure you’ll have it under control soon.”
He gave her a one-sided grin and lifted the package. “You want to hang on to these until then—just in case?”
“No. You strike me as a man who keeps his promises.”
The levity vanished from his face. “Yeah. Well . . . thanks again.”
With that, he tugged on Toby’s leash, took Molly’s hand, and led his small entourage away.
Furrowing her brow, she watched them until they disappeared around the corner of her house.
Why would he take offense at a compliment?
Clueless, Jeannette returned to the kitchen to bake another batch of shortbread for the taste-of-Hope-Harbor table tomorrow night.
But the familiar chore didn’t require much concentration, and her thoughts kept drifting back to the man next door.
While Logan hadn’t offered much detail about his situation during their two brief conversations, he’d said enough to intrigue her—and she was dying to know the rest of his story.
However . . . given his obvious commitment to curbing Toby’s escape-artist tendencies, the pooch wouldn’t give them any further reason to interact.
Plus, the tall hedge screening her property discouraged interaction with her neighbors.
She pulled some butter out of the refrigerator, weighing it in her hand.
That hedge had been a major selling point for her three years ago. The secluded acreage just outside the town limit, along with the new profession she’d chosen, had been designed to help her control—and restrict—her contact with other people.
And the whole setup had worked exactly as she’d hoped.
She had peace and quiet, and everyone respected her wish to live a solitary life. The townspeople were pleasant and gracious, and while they’d made it clear they’d welcome her into their world, no one had pushed her to leave her cocoon.
Except Marci, of course.
But she’d stuck with her original plan—and she’d been 100 percent content to keep to herself and spend most of her days alone.
She measured out the butter, but it was cold and hard. Better let it soften for a while in the warmth of the kitchen or it would be difficult to blend.
Rather than start some other chore, she wandered out and sat at the small café table on her patio. Soon, her lavender plants would begin blooming and she could bring her tea out here in the morning and enjoy the fragrance and quiet.
Her gaze strayed to the empty seat across from her. The three pieces of furniture had come as a set, and she’d never paid much heed to the extra chair.
Yet for some reason today it bothered her.
As did the quiet—although Toby’s faint barks were still audible, suggesting he was dragging his feet about going back inside.
Why did the silence suddenly feel heavy rather than peaceful?
And what was that slight twinge in the region of her heart?
Could it be . . . loneliness?
She frowned.
No.
She was past that.
Wasn’t she?
Yes.
Squaring her shoulders, she shifted in her seat and put her back to the hedge.
That faint, hollow echo in her heart was simple to explain. The refugee family she was baking for today was on her mind, and she felt sorry for them.