Woodrose Mountain. RaeAnne Thayne

now, with a small, intimate dinner and dance afterward in the Silver Strike ballroom.”

       “Lovely. I can picture it now. Everything silver and white and blue, with fairy lights and acres of tulle.”

       Claire’s features turned dreamy for just a moment before she shrugged. “I’ve already done the big-reception thing once. I don’t want to go overboard this time around.”

       “Riley hasn’t, though.”

       “He doesn’t care. He would run off to Vegas tomorrow if his mother and sisters wouldn’t kill us later.”

       Evie smiled, though she was disconcerted by a sudden, completely unexpected twinge of envy at Claire’s bubbly happiness.

       Where did that come from? She wasn’t jealous of Claire. Absolutely not. While she was certainly delighted for her friend, Evie wasn’t in the market for a relationship. Hadn’t she just decided the night before that she was completely happy with her single, unencumbered life here? She had Jacques for company and he was far more comfortable than any romantic entanglement of her experience.

       “You both deserve a lovely wedding. You know I’m here for whatever help you need,” she assured Claire.

       “Be careful what you offer.” Claire laughed. “I might take you up on it when the date gets closer.”

       “You know perfectly well I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to help.”

       Claire started to answer but paused when the teenage girl approached them, her plump features hesitant. “Sorry to interrupt. I can come back.”

       “Not at all,” Evie said quickly. “Hannah, right? You’re friends with Lara, who works here sometimes.”

       “Not really. We just know each other from school and stuff.”

       Something about the girl’s unease, her hesistance bordering on gawky awkwardness, tugged at Evie’s heart.

       “How can we help you?” Claire asked just as the phone in the office rang.

       “I’ve got this,” Evie answered. “Go ahead and take the call.”

       “It’s probably Gen again,” Claire said with a reluctant sigh, but she crossed the showroom to the phone at her desk.

       “If you’re busy or whatever, I can come back another time.”

       “Not at all,” Evie assured the girl. “I’m all yours. How can I help you?”

       “I don’t know anything about beading but I think it looks kind of neat. I’d like to learn, I guess. I was thinking about trying to make some earrings for my mom. It’s her birthday next week.”

       “Lovely!”

       “She’s been, you know, kind of sad lately and I sort of thought, you know, that some new earrings would cheer her up.”

       Kirk. That was her last name, Evie suddenly remembered. Hannah Kirk. Evie didn’t know the family well but she suddenly recalled the buzz around town had it that Hannah’s father had walked out on them right after Christmas for another woman, leaving her mother to struggle alone with Hannah and three younger siblings.

       If rumor could be believed, the Angel of Hope—the mysterious benefactor who had been busy around town for the last six months or so helping families hit hard by the poor economy or by health concerns or family issues—had paid more than one visit to the Kirks since Christmas. She hoped so. Gretchen Kirk and her children were just the sort of down-on-their-luck family that deserved a helping hand.

       “Your mother will love new earrings, especially handmade ones.”

       “It was just a crazy idea. Like I said, I don’t really know what I’m doing or anything. I would need a lot of help.”

       “You’ve come to exactly the right place.” Evie smiled. “We love to help beaders, trust me. Especially beginning beaders. We’ve got a worktable here with all the supplies and tools you need and there’s always someone around who can give you a hand with any project.”

       Hannah’s face lit up with relief. “Really? That would be great. Thanks. Thanks a lot. You’re right, my mom will love them, I think.”

       “Moms go crazy for the handmade stuff. Trust me on this. Do you want to get started now? We can look through the beads and get an idea of colors that your mom likes to wear, if you want.”

       Hannah pulled out an older sort of flip phone and looked at the time on it. “I’d better go. I have to go to work. Um, I work at the shave-ice stand over by the hardware store and afternoons are kind of busy for us. Can I come back another time?”

       “Sure. If I’m not here to help you, Claire should be or one of our other resident beaders. You think about what kind of earrings your mom likes and we’ll look through the books and come up with some killer designs.”

       “Something easy, though, right?”

       “Sure thing.”

       “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.” Hannah’s sweet smile transformed her rather plain, round features into someone young and bright and pretty. “I don’t have much money, though. I can probably only make one pair.”

       “We’ll figure something out. We’ve probably got some overstock we can swing a good deal on.” If Claire objected—though Evie knew she wouldn’t—Evie had samples from her own huge inventory of beads she would be willing to donate to the cause.

       “I’ll see you later, okay?”

       The girl smiled again, looking much happier than she’d been earlier. “Great. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

       She headed for the door and reached to pull the handle just as it was pushed in from the other side and Katherine Thorne walked into the store.

       Evie’s stomach plummeted, all her angst of the long, sleepless night returning in spades.

       While Katherine always looked elegant and put-together, from her streaky ash-blond hair, cut in a chin-length bob, to her strappy sandals and blush-painted toenails, the last three months since her granddaughter’s accident had definitely taken a toll. She was thinner than ever, her sixty-year-old skin showing a few more wrinkles.

       The little happy buzz Evie had been enjoying at the prospect of helping a very needy young girl make a birthday present to lift her mother’s spirits fizzled away. Saying no to Brodie Thorne had been as easy as adding beads to a basic earring headpin, something she could do in her sleep. Katherine’s inevitable disappointment was a different matter altogether.

       Hannah brushed by her with a flash of that hesitant smile, and Katherine closed the door behind her while Evie tried to come up with some excuse to avoid her dear friend. She could always use the other customers as a reason but with Hannah gone, that left only the two young mothers who, unfortunately, seemed perfectly at ease poring over magazines while their children giggled in the play space.

       Evie was stuck. With as much grace as she could muster, she greeted Katherine with their customary warm embrace, sweet with the scent of blooming fresh-cut flowers from the Estée Lauder Beautiful fragrance Katherine used. The other woman felt fragile somehow, her bones sharp and defined. She wasn’t eating like she should, Evie fretted. How much more of a burden would Katherine take on after her granddaughter returned to Hope’s Crossing for rehab?

       “How was your trip, my dear?” Katherine asked.

       She pulled away. “Great. They had big crowds this year and people were actually willing to spend money again.”

       “I did that show once or twice and always loved it.”

       She didn’t seem angry. No yelling or asking how Evie could disappoint her like that. Maybe she didn’t know what Brodie had asked of her—or that Evie had refused.

       No. She couldn’t believe that. Katherine had