A Gift of Family. Mia Ross

“I can’t wait.”

      “Have you decided where to go?”

      “Not yet.”

      Leaning over, he fanned through the splashy catalogs and pulled out one called Exploring the Emerald Isle. “You’d like Ireland. It’s wild and beautiful, and the people are real friendly.”

      “You’ve been there?”

      “I’ve been to all those places.”

      Leaning on the counter, she looked up at him. “It sounds like you didn’t enjoy them much.”

      Unwilling to dampen her enthusiasm, he didn’t say anything. Unfortunately, she read him like a big, open book. The kind with lots of pictures.

      Staring at him, she looked totally appalled. “I can’t believe anyone blessed enough to visit all these fascinating countries would regret doing it.”

      Since he couldn’t begin to explain it to her, he settled on something vague. “Traveling gets old after a while.”

      “I’ve been to Charlotte, and I went to Chicago once to visit my big sister before she and her kids moved back here. I’ve always wanted to see some of the world, maybe even live in Europe for a while. Whenever I mention it to anybody, they just pat my head and say ‘that’s nice, honey.’ I really hate that,” she added, tilting up her nose in disdain.

      “I can see why.”

      She rewarded him with an approving smile. “Thank you.”

      After that, they chatted some more about arts and crafts while Lisa tidied up. Seth kept waiting for her to ask about his wreck of a shoulder, but she didn’t. While she rummaged around in the single closet and found him a dark blue T-shirt to wear, he expected her to mention what she’d seen.

      Instead, she said, “That’s the biggest shirt I’ve got, but I think it’ll work. You can change in the bathroom, and then we should get you back to the diner. Ruthy will be worried sick when she hears you were the one who rescued Pastor Charles.”

      Seth’s stomach plunged to the floor. “Nobody knows it was me.”

      “Trust me,” Lisa told him with a grin. “Everybody knows it was you. That means Ruthy does, or she will soon. You need to show her you’re okay.”

      It hadn’t even occurred to him that his aunt would be worried about him. Feeling awkward and stupid, he stared down at the T-shirt in his hands.

      “Seth?”

      Out of pure, stubborn pride, he lifted his head and met those beautiful blue eyes.

      “I don’t know what’s in your past,” she continued, “and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But you’re here now, and you’re safe. Nobody in Harland means you any harm, least of all me. Now, go change your shirt and we’ll walk back to the diner together. Okay?”

      Her compassion drove that stupid feeling back a few steps, and he nodded. “Thanks.”

      He went into the bathroom and shut the door. He’d just pulled the borrowed shirt on when he felt his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans.

      Pulling it out, he read the caller ID before clicking it on. “Hey, Aunt Ruth.”

      “Where are you?” she demanded in an echoing whisper.

      “Lisa’s. You sound like you’re in the storeroom,” he teased.

      “That’s because I am.”

      “Why?”

      “Don’t come back here,” she warned. “Folks are piling up in the diner, waiting to get a look at the town hero.”

      Suddenly, the situation wasn’t so funny. The blind panic he’d felt earlier returned almost full force, and his pulse shot into hummingbird range. There was no reason for that, Seth chided himself.

      You’re here now, and you’re safe.

      Lisa’s reassurance echoed in his mind, soothing his nerves.

      “Lisa’s on her way back there. I don’t think I should hang out at her place without her.”

      “Come in the back gate,” his aunt suggested. “Then stay up in your room. Once the hoopla settles, I’ll take you home with me and make you a proper meal.”

      The thought of being trapped upstairs made Seth’s skin crawl, but going to her house might actually be worse. Nice as it was, the chances of running into more Bentons were almost a hundred percent. After the emotional beating he’d taken today, Seth wasn’t up to trading small talk with one of his happy, successful cousins.

      So he chose the better of his two very unappealing options. “I’m kinda tired, so I think I’ll just stay in my room.”

      “Sethy, are you okay?” she pressed. “The truth, now.”

      He bit back a groan. The childish nickname emphasized just how worried she was about him.

      “I’m fine.” Nudging the door open a crack, he peered out to find Lisa waiting by the front door. “Lisa’s ready to go, so I’m on my way.”

      “All right,” she relented. “And Seth?”

      “Yeah?”

      “What you did today was incredibly brave. I’m very proud of you.”

      With her praise ringing in his ears, he smiled and told her again he was on his way.

      * * *

      After making sure Seth got upstairs unseen, Lisa tied on a clean apron and pushed through one of the swinging kitchen doors into the diner. Way over capacity, the place was crammed wall to wall with busybodies who weren’t even pretending they were there for any reason other than to gawk at Seth. Plastering a smile on her face, she grabbed an armload of menus and waded into the crush. If she played this right, she’d make enough in tips this week to cover her rent.

      Or a few moonlit boat rides up the Thames, she thought with a grin.

      “Lisa!”

      She turned to find Priscilla Fairman waving to her from a corner table, where she sat with friends. Going on eighty-five, the petite, frail-looking woman had been the head of the Harland Ladies’ League for the past forty years. Not to mention the town’s gossip mill began and ended with her. If it was worth knowing, Priscilla knew about it. And made sure it was spread around at light speed.

      “How are you today, ladies?” Lisa asked, handing each woman a menu. “Would you like to start off with some of our candy-cane tea?”

      “Actually, dear,” Priscilla replied, leaning in with an eager expression. “We’re looking for information.”

      “Really?” Resting a hand on the back of a chair, Lisa faked complete brainlessness. “About what?”

      “Seth Hansen, of course,” one of the others said. “We heard you were the one who called 911, so you must know what happened.”

      Priscilla nodded. “When people ask, we want to make sure we have our facts straight.”

      Facts had absolutely nothing to do with it, Lisa knew. They just wanted to make sure they scooped their biddy friends who were trying to eavesdrop from another table.

      She’d always had a soft spot for the Fairmans, so Lisa asked, “What would you like to know?”

      “Did Seth really pull the roof off Pastor Charles?”

      “A good chunk of it.”

      Dressed head to toe in classic Chanel, Helen Witteridge fanned herself with her hand. “Oh, my.”

      Lisa couldn’t keep back a grin. Widowed four times, Helen prided herself on being a connoisseur of men. If Seth gave her the vapors, Lisa could only imagine the effect he’d have on the rest