Second Chance Summer. Irene Hannon

mind, Gram leaned forward and fixed him with an intent look. “Now see here, young man.” The slight Southern twang of her Nashville roots was another thing that hadn’t changed. “I could have tripped over a shopping cart in any parking lot in any grocery store in this country. It just happened to be in Brunswick. And Eleanor Kavanagh, bless her soul, took fine care of me until you got here.”

      She settled back, her expression thoughtful. “Funny how you can go through your whole life and then, in the last stages, find the best friend you ever had.” She shook her head. “All part of God’s plan, I guess.”

      “I’m looking forward to seeing her again. We didn’t have much chance to get acquainted at Thanksgiving.”

      “You can say hello at church on Sunday. You’re going to services, aren’t you?”

      Fletch shifted and gave the task of selecting his next cookie more attention than it deserved. “No, but I’ll be happy to drop you off.”

      “Still at odds with the Almighty, I see.”

      He settled on a cookie he no longer wanted. “Let it go, Gram.”

      Several beats of silence ticked by.

      “We don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to—but I intend to keep praying. And I can get a ride with Eleanor to church. So...you never answered my question. Did you have any problem finding the beach access?”

      He leaned back in his chair. Good. She’d let the subject of his lapsed faith drop—for now. “No. Your directions were excellent. I would never have guessed there were access points tucked into the residential streets.”

      “Most people wouldn’t. That’s why those beaches are usually empty. Did you have it all to yourself?”

      “Almost.” Fletch chewed the cookie, visualizing the blonde. “I only had to share it with a woman and her dog.”

      “That sounds about right. I walked that beach every day before I broke this,” she wiggled the fingers protruding from the cast, “and I never saw more than a couple of people. They were always friendly, though. Seems like beaches bring out the best in people. Did you have an opportunity to chat with her?”

      Their brief exchange didn’t qualify as a chat, and as for friendly...not even close.

      “I went there to swim, not talk.” He washed down the last of the cookie with a swig of soda.

      Twin furrows creased her brow. “I hope you’re not turning into a recluse.”

      One side of his mouth hiked up. “Trust me, Gram. The accident might have sidelined me for a few months, but in the past year I’ve led an active social life.”

      The furrows diminished a bit. “So in other words, you’re just waiting for the right woman to come along.”

      It wasn’t quite that simple...but close enough for this discussion.

      “More or less.”

      Her forehead smoothed out. “Nice to know. Because your brother doesn’t seem in any hurry to get married, and I want to enjoy some grandbabies before the good Lord calls me home.”

      Fletch’s fingers tightened on the empty aluminum can, the crinkling noise echoing in the sudden silence. After a moment, he set it on the patio table, pulled his cell off his belt and stood. “I need to return a call. Would you like me to take the cookies inside?”

      “Please. Otherwise, I’ll eat too many—and I made them for you. That’s not a chore I plan to tackle again until this comes off, by the way.” She lifted her cast. “So enjoy them.”

      “I appreciate the effort.” Fletch bent down and kissed her forehead. “But no more heavy cooking. I can take over a lot of the KP while I’m here. It won’t be up to your standards, but we’ll get by.”

      She waved the offer aside. “I can prepare simple things. The least I can do is feed you after disrupting your life. I don’t know what I’d have done if your work wasn’t portable.”

      “Well, it is and I’ll manage fine with the island as a temporary base.” Not quite true, but no need to lay any guilt on Gram about the inconvenience.

      “You have to promise me you’ll build in some social time, though. I don’t expect you to wait on me hand and foot. Besides, you’re not getting any younger. You need to think about settling down and starting a family.”

      Gram’s new lifestyle might be casual and laid-back, but she clearly hadn’t dialed down her determination see him married.

      “Thirty-five isn’t exactly over the hill.”

      “No...but you don’t want to be dealing with night feedings and diapers in your forties if you can help it.”

      Fletch forced his lips into the semblance of a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      Juggling the plate of cookies in his hand, he reentered the house. Only then did he allow the corners of his mouth to flatten.

      Gram was right.

      He wasn’t getting any younger.

      But he had secrets she didn’t know. Guilt that ate at his soul. Grief that remained raw after two and a half years.

      It would take a very special woman to deal with all the baggage he carried.

      And so far, he was batting zero.

      Leaving him less than upbeat that his chances were going to improve anytime soon.

      * * *

      As Eleanor slowed the car to a stop on a tiny lane that bisected the interior of the island, she gestured toward a small bungalow. “That’s Louise’s house.”

      Rachel surveyed the well-kept cottage, the tidy yard and the flower-rimmed sidewalk that led to the front door. “It’s charming. How’s she adjusting to island life?”

      “After only eight months, you’d think she was a native. Took to it like a duck to water. I knew she would the day we met at church.” Eleanor glanced from her watch to the door. “That broken wrist must be slowing her down, though. Louise is always punctual—and she hates to be late for services.”

      “Would you like me to ring the bell?”

      Eleanor tapped her finger on the steering wheel. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Maybe she could use a hand with a zipper or something.”

      “No problem. We should be fine. The church is only five minutes from here.”

      Her aunt chuckled. “Everything’s five minutes from here.”

      “Good point. I’ll be back in a sec.” Grinning, Rachel slid out, followed the path to the door and pressed the bell.

      Fifteen seconds ticked by.

      She tried again.

      Another fifteen seconds passed.

      A flicker of alarm nudged up her pulse.

      Had Louise fallen again? Was she ill? Had she forgotten Aunt El’s offer of a ride and made other arrangements? Should they...

      At the sound of a lock sliding on the other side of the door, she exhaled. There wasn’t a problem after all.

      As the knob turned, Rachel lightened her expression, prepared to greet her aunt’s new best friend...and froze.

      What on earth was the man from the beach doing here?

      While she stared at him, he stared back.

      She found her voice first. “We meet again.”

      He looked past her, toward the car where Aunt El waited. “I take it you’re somehow connected to Eleanor.”

      “Great-niece. I take it you’re connected to Louise.”

      “Grandson.”