Making His Way Home. Kathryn Springer

      And Grace.

      * * *

      When a large, masculine hand curled around the beam a few inches above her head, Grace realized she should have hidden behind something larger. Like a bale of hay. Or the rain barrel.

      She dared to look up and found herself neatly trapped in a pair of cedar-green eyes.

      “Cole.”

      “Grace.” The crooked smile made an appearance, but it wasn’t the boyish one that she remembered. This was a potent, take-no-prisoners grown-up smile. And it packed more of a wallop than Delia Peake’s cane.

      She retreated to the beverage table again and poured a glass of lemonade. For herself. Because her mouth had gone as dry as the sawdust scattered on the floor.

      Cole propped a hip against the side of the table, clearly in no hurry to leave. “That looks good.”

      “Would you like a glass?” Grace asked reluctantly, because as a member of the hospitality committee, it was her duty to be...hospitable.

      “No, thanks.” He planted both hands on the table and leaned forward. “But I would like to know why you didn’t tell me that I was supposed to escort you to the square dance tonight.”

      In a town the size of Mirror Lake, she should have known someone would spill the beans.

      “You told Kate you were leaving.” Grace shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

      Cole raked a hand through his hair, disheveling it even more. Grace resisted the urge to smooth a wayward strand back into place, which only proved the theory that those who didn’t learn from history were destined to repeat it.

      “I had a few things to take care of and they took longer than I thought.”

      Disappointment rattled through her, bumping and bruising everything in its path.

      Did you really think he stuck around so he could spend more time with you?

      “Don’t worry about it.” Grace moved the pitcher to cover the damp spot on the tablecloth. “I don’t think anyone on the planning committee took into consideration that we might get bids from outsiders today.”

      A shadow passed through Cole’s eyes, and she felt a stab of guilt. But, she reminded herself, he was the one who’d chosen to leave.

      I love this town, Grace. We could build a cabin near the water...

      “There you are!”

      Grace inwardly braced herself as Sissy Perkins, the local Realtor, strode up to them. She’d been aware of the curious looks she and Cole had been receiving for past few minutes. She was only surprised that Wes Collins, the editor of the Mirror Lake Register, hadn’t gotten to them first.

      “Sissy, this is—”

      “My newest client, according to Candy,” Sissy flipped a panel of dark hair over her shoulder and aimed a megawatt, sign-on-the-dotted-line smile at Cole.

      “Client?” Grace echoed.

      “That’s right.” Sissy nodded. “Sloan Merrick’s place.”

      “You’re selling it?”

      The words slipped out of Grace’s mouth before she could stop them.

      Cole hadn’t explained why he’d come back to Mirror Lake so Grace had assumed that Kate’s letter had somehow prompted the visit. That he’d decided to check things out for himself before allowing people to tour the property.

      But no. He’d come back to snip off his last tie with the town like an annoying thread dangling from the pocket of his shirt.

      “Grace—” The husky rumble of Cole’s voice reverberated through her.

      She forced a smile.

      “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

      “Well, I wouldn’t mind hearing one,” Sissy declared. “That land has been in your family for years.”

      * * *

      My grandfather’s family, Cole wanted to say.

      Sissy Perkins might be familiar with the town’s history but it was clear she didn’t know anything about his personal history. Sloan had never considered Cole’s mother, Debra, a “true” Merrick.

      Cole’s parents had eloped two weeks after graduation and left Mirror Lake for good. Sloan had blamed Cole’s mother for the fracture in their family, but failed to see his own pride had ultimately prevented it from healing.

      “If you aren’t interested, I can talk to someone else,” Cole said evenly.

      “I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.” Sissy backpedaled so quickly the words practically left skid marks in the air. “How long are you going to be in town?”

      “That depends,” Cole hedged.

      “On what?”

      It was a good question. And he should have known the answer.

      Cole watched Grace dab at an invisible stain on the tablecloth and wondered what she was thinking. He used to tease her that she couldn’t keep a secret. Every one of her thoughts—every feeling—had been reflected in her eyes. But not anymore.

      On the way to Mirror Lake, he’d spent several hours mentally preparing himself for the moment he walked through the front door of his grandfather’s house. When he would relive those first few weeks following his father’s death.

      But nothing had prepared him to see Grace again.

      Should he apologize for not saying goodbye? For not contacting her again after he’d left town?

      Or would she think he was crazy for bringing it up? Or even worse, that he was arrogant enough to believe that she’d actually thought about him over the years?

      “I’m meeting with my grand—Sloan’s—attorney Monday morning at nine o’clock,” he finally said, reluctant to talk business in front of Grace.

      Although she, of all people, should understand why he felt no sentimental attachment to the property.

      “Then stop by my office at ten.” Sissy poured a glass of lemonade. “I’ll try to take a drive out that way before we meet. Is the place in pretty decent shape?”

      “No.”

      Cole and Sissy both turned toward Grace. Her eyes widened a little, as if she hadn’t intended to join the conversation. But then she raised her chin, daring him to disagree.

      He couldn’t.

      “It could use a little TLC.” Cole refused to feel guilty about its run-down state. Forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t even known the house and land belonged to him.

      Sissy’s gaze bounced between him and Grace. “That’s right. You two are neighbors.” She flashed that bright smile again. “I’ve tried for years to convince Grace to sell. She could find a nice little place in town instead of living way out in the woods like that. It isn’t exactly the most practical home. And all those rooms. It’s waaay too big for a single woman. Unless—” Sissy tossed a sly glance in Grace’s direction “—there’s something you aren’t telling us.”

      Cole couldn’t help but notice that Grace didn’t deny it. And was she...blushing?

      “You look a little flushed, sweetie,” Sissy said. “It is warm in here.” She picked up a paper napkin and fanned herself. “Oops, I told Doug I’d be right back. I better scoot over there before Mayor Dodd draws the names for the competition tomorrow.”

      “Competition?”

      “The 1800s’ version of Survivor.” The Realtor smiled. “You didn’t hear about that?”

      “No.” Cole glanced at Grace, but she wasn’t