Where Azaleas Bloom. Sherryl Woods

that.”

      “You always say that,” Lexie protested, as yet unconcerned about the importance of winning a scholarship if she expected to get into a terrific school. She was focused on the here and now. “Lots of kids my age babysit. You let me stay with Jeremy.”

      “He’s ten and he’s your brother,” Lynn reminded her. “It’s not quite the same thing as taking care of a baby or a toddler.”

      “What if I took the babysitting certification class at the community center? Then could I?” She gave Lynn a pleading look. “Please. I want to help out.”

      “If you do that and pass the course, then we’ll see. But this will be for your savings and your spending money, okay? It’s not up to you to chip in for expenses around here.”

      Lexie threw her arms around Lynn. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll sign up tomorrow. I already know lots of people who need babysitters. The minute I pass the class, I’m going to hand out flyers.”

      Lynn smiled at her enthusiasm, wishing she could muster up that same level of excitement for her own job hunt. “Okay, my little entrepreneur. For now get some sleep. Love you.”

      “Love you, Mom.”

      Lynn turned out the light on her way out the door, but the second she was gone, Lexie flipped it back on. Lynn smiled, knowing exactly what she was up to. She was texting Mandy the big news about taking that babysitting course. She was probably hoping to get her best friend to sign up, too.

      Which Mandy would likely do, Lynn thought. Those two never did anything without the other one tagging along. It was just one more reason she intended to do everything she possibly could to stay right here in this house, so her daughter wouldn’t be ripped away from the friend who’d provided the best support system a girl Lexie’s age could possibly have.

      2

      Mitch had gotten into the habit of stopping in at Wharton’s for breakfast, something he’d never have considered when Amy was alive. She’d always made sure he left the house with a hearty meal to sustain him through the morning. Now Grace Wharton looked over him just as protectively, but her efforts always came with a heavy dose of meddling.

      “You’re working too much,” she declared as she set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of him.

      “And how would you know that?”

      “You’re in here practically before I can get the coffee brewed in the morning and I know for a fact you’re over there hammering away at Raylene and Carter’s till they kick you out at night. Now, since I know you wouldn’t be looking twice at a married woman, what’s the attraction? You wouldn’t be thinking of trying to rekindle something with Lynn Morrow, now that she and Ed are divorcing, would you?”

      Mitch blinked at the way she’d cut right to the heart of the matter before he’d even had a chance to consider such a thing himself. “What’s to rekindle?” he asked, hoping to throw her off stride. Not that a full-speed train heading in her direction would cause Grace to falter once she was on a mission. “Lynn and I were never an item.”

      Since Wharton’s wasn’t yet busy because, as she’d noted, it was barely past dawn, Grace settled down opposite him in the booth and gave him one of her don’t-fool-with-me looks. “You must think my memory’s bad, Mitch. I can recall perfectly well the way you trailed around after her back in middle school with that lovesick expression written all over your face. If she came in here for a soda or a milk shake with her friends, you were never far behind with that adoring look about you.”

      He winced at the probably accurate description. “Was I that pitiful?”

      “Not pitiful,” she soothed. “Just a boy suffering from his first unrequited love, as near as I could tell.”

      “Well, if you knew it was unrequited, then you also know there’s nothing to be rekindled. Besides, I rarely catch a glimpse of Lynn while I’m working over at Raylene’s.”

      “Sometimes it doesn’t take more than a glimpse to know when a possibility’s intriguing,” she said. “Seems to me she could use a steady man like you in her life. Ed Morrow wasn’t exactly a prize, and if I didn’t think much of him before, I think even less of him now.” There was a weight behind her words that suggested she’d heard things that maybe others didn’t know. There were, despite what everyone in town thought, things not even Grace would share with the world, not if she felt somebody stood to be hurt by the talk.

      She looked Mitch directly in the eye. “And you already know what I think about it being time for you to move on.”

      He laughed. “Grace, you probably know a lot more about romance than I ever did, but it seems to me that being steady almost never sends a woman’s pulse scrambling.”

      “It does when she’s been dealing with a man like Ed. And you know exactly what I mean, a man with a broken moral compass,” Grace replied firmly. “Trust me on that. I hear things.”

      Mitch nodded. “More than you need to, I suspect,” he said wryly. “And I’ll keep your advice in mind should something change. Now, do you suppose I could get my eggs, ham and grits?”

      “You’ll get oatmeal on a chilly morning like this,” she countered, then gave him a wink. “Then we’ll see about the rest.”

      “How on earth do you keep customers coming in here if you boss ’em around like this?”

      “What can I say? I have a charming personality,” she said. “And I always have the best gossip in town.”

      That, to his dismay, was all too true. “Just as long as I’m not your hot topic for today, I’ll put up with the oatmeal,” he called after her.

      “Why would I talk about you? So far, you haven’t done a single outrageous thing,” she called back, then added, “more’s the pity.”

      Trying to imagine what would happen if he did break any of the hard and fast rules he’d lived by since Amy’s death, Mitch prayed for the fortitude to keep it that way. As much as he loved Grace’s sass and vinegar, he wasn’t quite ready to be on the menu right along with the tuna melt.

      * * *

      Satisfied that she’d grilled Jeremy sufficiently to eke out a passing grade on his history test, Lynn sent him off to school, then walked into town. Outside Wharton’s, she grabbed the local weekly, then went in for a cup of coffee she intended to nurse as long as possible. Grace gave frequent refills, so it was usually enough caffeine to get Lynn through the day.

      “Well, well, look who’s here,” Grace said loudly as she entered.

      Only then did Lynn notice Mitch sitting by himself in a booth just inside the door. He gave her what looked like a nervous smile, then gestured to the table. “Join me?” he asked with apparent sincerity.

      “Are you sure? You look as if you’ve finished. Don’t you need to be over at Raylene’s soon?”

      “The crew knows what to do if they get there before I do,” he assured her. “Coffee?”

      “Yes,” she said eagerly even as Grace arrived with a cup and filled it to the brim, then refilled Mitch’s, a smirk on her face.

      Lynn watched her walk away. “Was she smirking?”

      Mitch sighed. “She was. Trust me, you don’t want to know why. How about something to eat? My treat.”

      “No, thanks,” she said, though she couldn’t help gazing longingly at a plate of French toast as Grace carried it by.

      “When was the last time you had Grace’s French toast?” Mitch asked with a knowing grin.

      “A while,” she admitted. “But seriously, I’m not hungry.”

      “Nobody looks at food the way you just did unless it’s a real temptation,”