Dogwood Hill. Sherryl Woods

things into uncooperative plastic bags that seemed deliberately impossible to open. She barely had time to look up and make eye contact with the customers.

      “Did you find everything?” she asked automatically, even as she handed off two bags to the previous customer.

      “I was looking for the owner,” a male voice announced.

      Her head snapped up. “Aidan! What are you doing here?”

      He held up a bag. “Sally thought you might be hungry. Judging from the chaos in here, I’m guessing she nailed it.”

      “You have no idea,” she said, eyeing the bag with longing. “What’s in there?”

      “A crab cake sandwich and coleslaw. French fries, too. I’ve been here a few minutes, but it should still be warm.”

      She closed her eyes and imagined it. Chunks of lump crabmeat seasoned perfectly and lightly fried with creamy coleslaw on top. Crispy french fries. She nearly moaned with pleasure.

      “It sounds heavenly,” she murmured.

      “I can attest to that. I slipped into your back room and took a couple of bites of mine, hoping the crowd out here might thin out any minute, but it seems pretty steady.”

      “It has been all day,” she said wearily, then grinned. “It’s exhausting, but absolutely wonderful, even better than I expected.”

      “How about this? I’ll take over at the register long enough for you to go in back and eat something. I left an iced tea back there for you, too. Sweet with lemon. Sally said that’s how you like it.”

      She eyed the bag with real regret. “It is, but I can’t possibly take a break.”

      He lifted a brow. “Are you worried I’ll take off with your cash?”

      “Of course not. But you don’t know the system.”

      “Is everything priced?”

      “Of course.”

      “And it has a bar code?”

      “Sure.”

      “And the register calculates the sales tax?”

      Liz nodded.

      “Then go. If I run into a problem, I’ll come and get you.”

      Still she fretted. “Can you do a credit card sale?”

      “I earned my spending money for college by working at Bloomingdale’s during the holidays.” He glanced around the store. As busy as it was, it hardly qualified as a holiday madhouse in New York. “I think I can handle this.”

      Before Liz could think about what she was doing, she put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him soundly. “You’re an angel sent from heaven.” The impulsive gesture was a shock to her system, but she didn’t have time to linger over the sensation. She could do that just before bedtime.

      Aidan chuckled. “There are some who’d dispute that,” he said, then handed her the bag with her lunch. “Enjoy your break. I promise not to give away the store.”

      Since there were several customers in line, she left him to it and hurried into the tiny back room, kicked off her shoes and sat down with a sigh of relief.

      Even as she noted that Aidan had come nowhere close to finishing his own meal, she opened her bag, took out a French fry, then took a long sip of the ice-cold tea. Nothing she’d ever eaten had tasted better, at least until she took her first bite of the sandwich.

      “Oh, sweet heaven,” she murmured. Aidan might not be an angel, but he’d surely been sent by one. Sally couldn’t have chosen a better meal to send over. Liz would have to thank her profusely tomorrow morning.

      As much as she wanted to stay off her feet and savor the delicious food, she hurried through it, washed her hands and headed back to the front of the still-packed store. Aidan was handling sales with an easy charm that had those in line laughing as they waited patiently for their turns.

      As Liz was heading to the register to relieve Aidan, a woman stopped her to ask about the custom doghouses. She pulled a picture of a Great Dane from her purse along with a picture of her sprawling home.

      “Do you think the designer could do something like this for my Petunia?” she asked Liz hopefully.

      Petunia? Liz thought, barely stifling a laugh. “I’m sure he could. Why don’t I give Matthew the pictures and your number and ask him to give you a call? You can work out the details directly with him.”

      “Will you still get a commission if I do that?” she asked worriedly. “I like to support small businesses whenever I can.”

      “Matthew and I will work that out,” Liz promised her, appreciative of her thoughtfulness. She jotted down the woman’s name and phone number to pass along to Matthew. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

      The woman beamed. “Not a thing. That nice young man has already rung up my purchases, but he said I needed to speak to you about the custom doghouse.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how he did it, but I’m leaving here with at least three things I’m sure I didn’t intend to buy. You have a wonderful selection. You can count on me being a regular. I’m afraid I pamper Petunia outrageously. That dog is like a child to me.”

      As the woman left, a satisfied expression on her face, Liz glanced in Aidan’s direction. He was smiling at a group of women in a way that could have gotten anyone—or at least any female over the age of consent—to buy just about anything. Maybe he was more than an angel. Perhaps he was a secret weapon she ought to consider using on a much more regular basis.

      But, she told herself sternly, only as long as she could find some way to inoculate herself against all that charm that seemed to come so naturally. Her husband had been a lot like that, charming everyone he met. She’d learned way too late to distrust that, but it was a lesson she wasn’t likely to forget.

      * * *

      “How was lunch?” Aidan asked when Liz eventually made her way back to the front of the store.

      “Delicious,” she said. “Thank you. And thanks for the break, too. I think I can handle things from now on out. You should go back and finish your own lunch before it’s ice-cold.”

      “I had plenty,” he insisted. “Do you have help coming in?”

      She shook her head. “There’s a high school girl who comes in after school a few days a week, but her family was going away for the weekend.”

      Aidan frowned. “It wasn’t very responsible of her to bail on you on a holiday weekend.”

      Liz shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time. I know better now. Tess is hoping for more hours this summer and now I can safely tell her she’ll get them.”

      “How about I hang around, at least until the crowd slows down. You can work your magic answering questions and I can stay up here at the register.”

      “I can’t ask you to do that,” she protested.

      “You didn’t ask. It’s not as if I have other pressing things to do. I’ve been enjoying the chance to talk to people.” Unsaid was that he liked watching her in action, too. She had a quiet sales manner that seemed to make people instinctively trust her. And her enthusiasm for the merchandise was plain. It was a potent combination that excited people, but assured they never felt pressured.

      Glancing around at the number of people still milling about, she seemed to reach a conclusion. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d be grateful for the help, but only until things quiet down.”

      “Agreed,” he said at once. “Now go. There’s someone else looking longingly at that doghouse. I think you can sell another one.”

      Liz immediately scurried off in that direction, leaving him to