Chapter Seven

      With things somewhat under control at the lodge, I dressed warmly for town, and slipped into high-heeled boots. I needed to collect some supplies and wanted to drop in on Imelda and Edgar for an impromptu meeting to firm up numbers, and show them some pictures of the ballroom renovation. It dawned on me that, after their party, it wouldn’t be long until I could start preparing for Christmas, and the thought of decorating the lodge for the festivities had me in paroxysms of delight. A winter wonderland wedding would be perfect, but I needed to show off the venue to attract brides. A wedding expo would be ideal, and I made notes about what I’d need to do in order to achieve it, feeling a pang for Amory, wishing she was here to share the joy of winter and all it entailed.

      Tying my scarf as I went, I found Kai in the ballroom, grinning up at the ceiling. “The electricians have just left. They’ve replaced the old insulation and fitted downlights so it’s not as gloomy with only the two chandeliers at each end of the room. What do you think?”

      I surveyed the new lighting. “It makes the space appear even bigger. The downlights were a good choice, Kai.” They sent out little stars of radiance which helped brighten the room. I’d been wary when it came to adding such modern features in the traditional ballroom, but they fit seamlessly.

      “Won’t be long until it’s finished and ready for the party. Mind if I hitch a ride to town with you? I need to meet with Walter at the hardware shop.”

      “Sure,” I said. “Let’s tell Micah to keep an eye on things.”

      We found Micah halfway up a ladder in the abandoned library. The room was the stuff of every bibliophile’s dream. Deep, dark mahogany shelves recessed into all four walls. Ladders were still attached, which slid across like something from the 1800s. It was bereft of novels and I couldn’t wait to go book shopping and fill the room with old tomes whose perfume would scent the air. With a fire crackling, and the teapot steaming, I was sure we could host book clubs here. Author events. Writing retreats.

      “We’re going into town, Micah. Keep an ear out in case anyone needs a hand?”

      A fine layer of wood dust coated him, as he sanded back one of the rippled and cracked water-damaged shelves. “Sure. But only if you bring me back a donut from Puft.”

      “Deal,” I said, grinning.

      When we parked in front of Puft, Kai jumped out, ear pressed against his phone. From what I could gather it was his boss, and there was a new job on the horizon once Cedarwood Lodge was finished. Soon he’d leave, and I wasn’t sure how I felt. Would I be lost without his easy-going guidance, his calming influence on me? Only time would tell, but I wasn’t looking forward to losing him.

      It was warmer in town without the cold gust of wind drifting off the surface of the lake.

      My aunt’s donut store was doing a roaring trade with tables out front full of lunchtime patrons. I pushed my face up against the glass and searched for her, but saw only faces I didn’t recognize behind the counter. As I turned I tripped over the foot of a chair, and landed smack-bang into the arms of someone walking the other way. We thumped foreheads, and tears stung my eyes. What was it about this place that made me so clumsy all of a sudden? High heels and Evergreen were a veritable deathtrap. An apology fell from my lips as I blinked hastily to correct my blurry vision. Just what I needed, a big black eye to greet potential clients.

      “I’m sorry, I’m such an…” Oh, God. The words froze on my tongue.

      “Clio?”

      I nodded dumbly as I stared into the deep hazel eyes of Timothy. The first person to break my heart – a very handsome man with powerful shoulders that suggested time spent at the gym and a smile that would make many a woman melt.

      “Hey.” Smooth, Clio.

      In the filmy light of midday his lips twitched as he rubbed the soft spot above his eyebrow where we’d bumped heads. “I heard you were back in town. I’ve been meaning to come out to Cedarwood and say hi.”

      “You should.” I’d forgotten how modulated his voice was, every word measured and thoughtful. Maybe it was concussion, but his mouth, the way his lips twitched, held a whole host of memories for me; suddenly I was back in his parents’ basement with him, listening to pop music and stealing kisses. My turncoat gaze darted to his ring finger and found it bare.

      “How is it going at Cedarwood? From what I hear around town you’re not far away from being able to open.”

      I swallowed hard and willed my voice box to engage. “Yeah, it’s going well. No great disasters as yet. But there’s still time.” How could I say something so opposite to what I was thinking? You’re thirty-three, Clio, not thirteen. Somehow the gangly, brace-face teen had returned uninvited. I coughed and recovered, summoning a voice I used on my most famous clients, one that hid how starstruck I was.

      “How’re things with you, Timothy? I thought you’d be married and have about a hundred babies by now.” I left out the part about the picket fence, the cookie-baking wife, the fluffy dog called Buster…

      Just then a squeal rang out as two children ran from the bakery holding chocolate-iced donuts. They laced their free hands around his legs. I knew it! I bet they had perfect manners too. And dabbed daintily at their mouths with napkins after they ate their bounty.

      He wobbled as they took hold. “Clio, I’d like you to meet Scarlett and Zander. Haven’t quite made it to a hundred kids yet, but these two have the energy of fifty at least.” He held back laughter, and glanced down at them with such fondness in his eyes that my heart just about stopped.

      I won’t lie. A part of me, that teeny, tiny, hopeless romantic part of me, died. He had made children! Actual living, breathing little humans. And not just your standard cute ones; really gorgeous, impish ones.

      “Nice to meet you, Scarlett and Zander. You chose well. I happen to know those donuts are the best in the world.”

      Scarlett narrowed her eyes, held the donut tighter, and shot a glance up to her father for… what? Reassurance? Even the… what… five-, six-year-old – she could have been two, three, for all I knew – could see straight through me, like I was wearing a flashing sign: FRAUD, beware! If I hadn’t already felt like a member of the secret group Being Left Behind, I did now.

      They could have been my children, if things had been different. And if they had been, surely they wouldn’t clam up like that? Scarlett was so cold she was practically frosty, an icy wind radiating from her. And the little boy wasn’t much better. Zander glared at me and tugged his dad’s jean-clad leg. Although maybe it was a stranger danger thing, and in that case, they were pretty perfect, just as expected. Damn it.

      “Anyway,” I said, ignoring the death stares. “I must dash, I’ve got paint that needs… painting, and all sorts of very important jobs that need doing.” Kill me.

      Timothy gave me a slow, saucy smile that provoked a jelly-legged reaction. What was happening to me? Had I made a mistake leaving town to follow