Mended Hearts. Ruth Logan Herne

“She stopped by for one cherry cordial nearly every day until she delivered. It was her way of rewarding herself for being a working mom with a baby on board.”

      “That’s Josie, all right. Do you know all your customers like that? At the library and here? And the kids you tutor?”

      She shook her head as she filled the box, then shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s easy because I work at small venues. If they were bigger, it might not be the same.”

      Somehow Jeff doubted that. Hannah’s soul-searching eyes said she was a woman of marked intelligence.

      So why was she working part-time in an out-of-the-way postage-stamp-size library, gilding the lack of pay by boxing chocolates?

      She wrapped the box in paper decorated with tiny dinosaurs, perfect for the mother of a brand-new baby boy. “Tell her I packed extra cherry cordials in there from me. And that Samuel is a great name.”

      “Samuel was Hannah’s son in the Bible, wasn’t he?”

      Her eyes shadowed, the hint of self-protection reemerging.

      “That will be eighteen dollars, please.”

      “Of course.” He let the subject slide, not sure how or why, but pretty certain he’d prickled a wound. “And Wednesday night?”

      She glanced away, then down.

      “I can pick you up or we can meet at The Edge.”

      He waited, counting the ticks of the clock, then leaned forward. “And can you wear something that doesn’t remind me of how pretty your eyes are? That doesn’t augment that shade of blue?”

      She jerked up, the shadow chased away by annoyance. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll meet you there. Eight-thirty.”

      “Perfect.” He raised up the signature green-and-tan striped paper bag bearing Grandma Mary’s logo. “See you then. And thanks for the candy.”

      He felt her gaze on him as he left the store, the bell jangling his departure. He headed left toward the hospital, but refused to glance back to see if she watched him stroll down the sidewalk.

      Nope.

      Let her wonder if he’d totally forgotten her the minute he stepped through the door, which he hadn’t. Give her something to stew over instead of whatever shadowed her expression.

      Although he did understand the concept of shouldering burdens firsthand. His father’s illicit drug and gambling habits turned Neal Brennan’s brilliant mind into a disaster, nearly toppling their family business. Jeff intended to do whatever it took to polish the Brennan name until it gleamed.

      Matt Cavanaugh’s sudden reappearance in the area didn’t make his goal easier, but Jeff refused to dwell on that new twist. He’d meet with Grandma later, get her opinion. And he’d run an internet check on his half brother, see what he could find. Good or bad, he’d face any showdowns with Matt well-informed.

      And Hannah …

      Hopefully he could establish ground rules with her over supper. If they were on the same page, perhaps they could jump-start the library fundraiser quickly. Start-up was always the most time-consuming part of fundraising. Between his grandparents’ and mother’s philanthropy, Jeff had seen that firsthand. So he’d get together with Hannah, make a plan and set it in motion. And the whole dinner with a beautiful woman thing?

      Not too shabby either.

       Chapter Two

      “Dinner with Jeff Brennan? At The Edge? Oh, girlfriend, you are travelin’ with the big guns now.” Megan nudged Hannah as they crested the hill at the edge of town, late-day shadows beginning to lengthen.

      “Stop.” Hannah scowled and increased the pace of the walk deliberately. Maybe if Megan was winded, she couldn’t ask questions.

      “Have you met before?”

      Not winded enough. “No.”

      “Ever?”

      “No. And don’t look at me that way. I’ve only been here a few years.”

      “But he’s everywhere. Does everything. And not only because his family is like the royal family of Allegany County, but because he’s a people person. Jeff loves to be in the thick of things. A born manager.”

      The last thing Hannah wanted was to be managed. “Whereas I prefer the background, thanks.”

      Megan frowned, hesitated, then waded in. “You’re great with people, Hannah.”

      “I’ve got nothing against people. I just don’t like getting involved.”

      “But—”

      “And I’m busy.”

      “Do you need me to cut your hours at the store? Would that help?”

      “Not if I want to continue to pay my bills.” Hannah started to surge ahead, then came to a complete stop, aggravated, wishing she didn’t have to explain herself. Explaining meant she might slip back into the dark waters of things she avoided. “See, that’s the thing. I love working at the library because it’s small. Quiet. I help a few people here and there. It’s perfect for me. If we make it all big and beautiful, I’ll be expected to do all kinds of things, all the time. I like things the way they are, Meg.”

      “Why is bigger bad?” Megan wondered. “I would think you’d embrace the idea of helping more kids, more families, providing more books, more chances.”

      Megan’s words struck deep.

      Hannah had provided a lot of chances for kids back in the day. She’d gone out on limbs, taken the bull by the horns, encouraging, offering young adults a rare experience. She’d been a risk taker then, in her beautifully equipped classroom, before life flipped upside down.

      She was a rabbit now. Emotional necessity ruled the cautious lifestyle she’d adopted. It suited her duck-and-cover personality.

      “I’ll be on the committee if you’d like,” Megan offered. “Would that help? Then we could strategize while we’re at the store together. Kill two birds with one stone.”

      “What horrible bird hater thought up that analogy?”

      Megan laughed. “Don’t change the subject. What are you wearing Wednesday night?”

      “Nothing special.”

      “What about my blue sarong? The one I brought back from Hawaii?”

      “Hmm. Show up at the library in a sarong. Perfect for children’s hour.” She flashed Meg a wry look. “End of story. And this discussion. Besides, I can’t wear blue.”

      “What? Why?”

      Hannah felt a blush rise from her neck and resented her fair complexion for the first time in several years. “We need another color.”

      “You’ve lost me.”

      Hannah sighed. “He said if I wear blue he’ll have a hard time concentrating on anything besides my eyes.”

      Megan ground to a halt, pebbled stones skittering beneath her feet. “He said that? Out loud?”

      Hannah stopped, as well, directed a bemused look to her friend and sighed. “He did, but it was most likely to throw me off track because he wants this project done. If he can’t weasel his way out of it and pawn it off on his sister.”

      “Meredith’s back?”

      “If that’s his sister’s name, then yes.”

      “Huh.” Megan frowned and resumed walking. “I’ll have to call her, see what’s up. You’ll love her. She’s funny and down-to-earth. And she does great hair and nails.”

      “Corporate boy’s sister is a hairdresser? Why