As planned, she drove around downtown, deciding which shop to visit first. Remembering her list from last night, she headed to Vittles Market. Maybe she’d see Marlena. She would tell her about meeting the librarian.

  The Cove had more traffic than she thought as she inched the Mercedes between a pickup truck and a van. Parking space was limited. She was unsure if there were too many people living here or if it was because it was Sunday and most people had the day off. Whatever, Emma hoped the parking situation was just a Sunday thing.

  Inside, Vittles was packed. Searching for a shopping cart, Emma spotted the last one by the door. Strolling down the aisles, she was surprised at the variety of the food. Most everything in a box or can was labeled as organic. She tossed a box of steel-cut oats and ajar of strawberry jam into her cart. The scent of fresh bread baking drew her to the bakery at the back of the store. A few people were in line waiting. She’d stand there all day for a loaf of fresh-baked bread herself.

  “Hey,” Marlena called out. “I see you found us,” she said as she came out from behind the counter. She had a white apron on, her hair covered with a bandana, and a smudge of flour on her nose.

  “Do you make the bread?” It was all Emma could think to ask.

  “I help Walt. He’s the baker. We only have fresh bread on Sunday.” Marlena nodded at the few people who were waiting. “Most folks place their orders beforehand, so we know how many loaves we’ll need. I’ll get a couple of loaves for you.” She ran behind the counter, returning with two loaves. “Here. Put the extra one in your freezer. It’s sourdough this week. Walt’s best.”

  Emma glanced at the people in line. They didn’t seem to be bothered by Marlena giving her the bread. “Thanks. I’ll spread this jam on the toast I’m having for lunch.”

  “Good! Let me know if you like it; I make the jam. The strawberries are handpicked from Plant City.”

  “Wow! I think I hit the grocery jackpot today, though I can’t say the same about church this morning.”

  Marlena laughed. “I’m almost afraid to hear what happened.”

  “I met Mrs. Whitton. According to her, I’ve been labeled a ‘book offender.’ ” Emma smiled. “I couldn’t help myself; I had to tell her about the ruined book. I’m suspended from checking out any more books for thirty days.”

  Marlena rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I ordered three copies last night. You can hand-deliver them yourself if you want.”

  “I’ll pass. She kept asking me if I was married or had a boyfriend. It scared me,” Emma said jokingly.

  “And rightfully so. She has two sons. Lyle and Leland. Neither is married. They’re both in their early fifties. And they’re bald and still live at home.”

  “Got it.”

  “Every new single female in town gets asked the same questions. She’ll never get rid of them because they’re both lazy goofballs that she enables. That’s why she’s such a hard-ass at the library. It’s the only place she has any control.”

  Emma nodded, appreciating Marlena’s simple honesty. Yet she also felt a touch of sympathy for Mrs. Whitton. “That’s sad. Maybe you should invite them to the monthly cookout you have at the condo. Surely there is someone there they might be interested in.” She laughed. “I’m joking, sort of.”

  “I hope so. No one at the condo, at least that I know of, would date either one of them. They missed the love boat a long time ago,” Marlena said. “Maybe if they cleaned up a bit . . . who knows?”

  Emma just listened; there wasn’t much she could say.

  “Speaking of dates . . .” Marlena turned her attention away from Emma. “He hasn’t missed the boat.”

  Emma followed her new friend’s gaze. It was her neighbor again. Nash. “I’d better go. I wanted to stop at a couple of shops on my way home,” Emma said.

  Marlena reached for the cart, preventing her from moving. “Wait. I want you to meet him.”

  “Uh, sure,” Emma said. He was her neighbor, after all. They might as well get to know each other.

  “Nash,” Marlena called out. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Hey, what’s up, Mar?” he asked as he approached them, his eyes entirely focused on Emma.

  Emma took a deep breath, then exhaled when he stood beside her. Yes, he was taller than she. Easily six-five. His skin was tanned and his hair wasn’t as dark as she’d thought the first time she saw him, more like a deep, rusty brown. He wore a pair of faded jeans with a light blue collared shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms.

  “Emma Swan,” she said, using her attorney voice to introduce herself. His eyes were as green as emerald stones. She held out her hand. As soon as he clasped her hand in his, she felt a vaguely sensuous vibe between them.

  “Nash Kendrick. You’re my new neighbor,” he said, stating the obvious. “I saw you last night on your lanai while you were reading. Book any good?”

  It took Emma a few seconds to shake off the sensation of his hand on hers. She gripped the grocery cart harder than necessary and said, “Actually, it’s excellent. I plan on finishing it today.” She didn’t know whether to admire him for noticing her or fear him for spying on her—even though she was guilty of the same offense. If you could call watching your sexy neighbor an offense.

  “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Nash, I have your mom’s order. Are you here for that or just grocery shopping?” Marlena asked, breaking the silence.

  “Both. I’m in a bit of a rush. Penny had the pups. The vet called me on my way here. I can’t wait to see them. Four females! Can you believe that?”

  Emma couldn’t help but smile. “Congratulations.”

  “When will you bring them home? I’ve got dibs on one, remember?” Marlena said.

  “I do. I think I’ll let the doc decide how long they should stay, but as soon as I have them, I’ll let you know so you can pop over and look,” Nash said, then turned to Emma. “Do you like puppies?”

  She relaxed her grip on the shopping cart. “Of course. Who doesn’t like puppies?”

  “You’d be surprised. I need to grab a few groceries, so I’ll catch you two ladies later.”

  “The bread,” Marlena called out. She reached over the counter, grabbed two loaves, and tossed them.

  Nash caught one in each hand. “Thanks,” he said before heading down the aisle.

  Emma stood there and just watched. For such a small town, she’d experienced more excitement in one morning than in a week in Miami. She was unsure if Nash’s words were an invitation to her or just the usual slough-off people used when they needed to make a hasty exit. It didn’t matter. She would see him at the condo eventually.

  “I’ll see you later,” Emma said to Marlena.

  “Sure thing,” she replied. “I’ll bring the wine next time.”

  Emma laughed. “Okay. Another weekend?” she asked. Wine was off the schedule for her for the rest of this weekend. She still had a tinge of a headache and needed a few more cups of coffee to take the edge off.

  Emma thought Vittles was a unique little store, far friendlier toward customers than the larger chains where she used to shop. And she’d found all the items on her list as well as some that weren’t available in the big-box stores. Even more reasons she was glad she’d left Miami.

  Emma had purchased a few frozen items, so she went home and unloaded her groceries first. Later that afternoon she would drive downtown to peruse the shops, as planned. If she was lucky, she might catch a glimpse of Nash again later as well. As soon as she changed out of her dress, she put on a pair of khaki shorts and a red shirt. She also put on her red sneakers. Emma thought her shoes should always match her clothes. That kind of thinking validated every shoe purchase she made. For now, her guest bedroom housed her immense shoe collection. She planned to have a custom closet built in the room just for her shoes. It wasn’t as if she needed the extra room for an office. She had all the space she needed.

  She was the most content she’d been since before she’d lost her parents. Emma practically skipped to the garage, humming a song she’d heard on the radio that morning while driving to church.

  Chapter Six

  Emma parked in the same spot she’d parked earlier for church. The traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as now. Several shops were open. The Tropical Candies Sweet Shop was her first stop. The scent of sugar filled the air. A couple of teenagers were ordering ice cream, and an older man scooped jellybeans into a clear bag before weighing them on a scale. Behind a counter were several types of fudge. She’d never had a weight issue; she would order a half-pound of peanut butter fudge, along with the peppermint bark, and eat every bit herself without any guilt.

  “What can I get for you?” the young girl behind the counter asked after the elderly man paid for his jellybeans.

  Emma gave the girl her order.

  “Please give me a couple of minutes,” she said. “I just got here. Mom went home early with a migraine.” The girl was rail thin with brown eyes and a blond braid reaching down to her waist. Emma thought she looked unhappy.

  “I’m sorry. That’s not a fun way to spend the day.” Emma didn’t know what else to say. Folks were so friendly here, telling her bits and pieces of their personal lives. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to that. “Mum’s the word” was the rule in her old world. She was a great keeper of secrets—not that she had any herself. As an attorney, she’d lived with stories that her clients told her in confidence. Many had no relation to their cases, but Emma was a good listener, and her clients knew she could be trusted.

  “Here you go, ma’am,” said the young girl.

  Emma returned her attention to the register. She handed the girl her debit card.

  “If your purchase is less than fifty dollars, we charge fifty cents for using your card.”

  “Sure, that’s fine.” Many businesses were doing that now to cover their banking fees.

  “Most of the time I don’t have to tell that to customers. They spend way over that amount. It’s kind of embarrassing,” the girl said, returning the card.

  Emma tucked her card inside her wallet, then took the bag of fudge and peppermint bark. “It’s okay, really. You do what you have to do to stay in business.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess. I just hate asking people for extra money.” The girl really did look distraught.

  “I understand, but that’s part of being a business owner. You have to make a profit,” Emma explained. “I used to be . . .” She trailed off, uncertain if she should tell this girl anything personal. She decided to go ahead. Maybe it would help the teen in some strange way. “I used to be an attorney. Actually, I’m still one. I just quit practicing. In my office, we had to bill our clients for almost everything, even a five-minute telephone call. I didn’t like that part, but it’s just how the world works. There are little things you can do. Many times I would call clients from home, never charging them. Take them to lunch, my treat.”

  “My mom would croak if I gave anything away for free.”

  “Can I ask your name?” Emma queried. She felt the girl needed to talk and knowing her name made the conversation seem more personal.

  “Amanda. I’m sorry. I should have my name tag on, but I forgot it again.”

  “I like that name. I’m Emma. So, you and your mom run the store on your own?”

  “Yeah. My dad passed away last year. A boating accident. It’s been hard for Mom and me to handle the shop. She always worries about money. When Dad was alive they had help on the weekends. She didn’t care about money then.”

  Emma didn’t know any adult who didn’t care about money in some sense. You had to have it to survive. The choice to survive in luxury or squalor depended on the individual.

  “I’m sorry. I lost both of my parents a few years ago, too.”

  “Did you have to work when they died?” Amanda asked.

  “I did, but I was much older than you.” She wouldn’t tell her she’d been left a small fortune. That was tucked away for the future.

  “I’m fifteen,” Amanda offered.

  Emma had thought she was much younger. Maybe she hadn’t had much of a chance to mature, given her family circumstances. “So you’re in high school?”

  “Ninth grade.”

  Emma knew where this conversation was going and, for a moment, she felt ashamed of herself. But she convinced herself that her question was for the greater good.

  “Is your teacher Mr. . . .” She could not recall his last name.

  “Mr. Kendrick?”

  “Yes, the math teacher.”

  “He’s the only male teacher. Yeah, I have him for third period. He’s the coolest teacher I’ve ever had. He brings his dog to class sometimes.”

  “I heard he’s expecting some puppies,” Emma said. “Or rather his dog is.”

  “I know. Penny hooked up with Henry, his mom’s wiener dog. The entire town wants one of his pups, but I don’t think he’ll give them up.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He’s just that way. Super sweet. He tells us stories about Penny. You can tell if a person is decent according to a dog’s reaction.”

  Emma had heard this, too. Never having had a pet of her own, she thought it was time for her to consider getting one. Maybe she could adopt a rescue animal. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” She could’ve told Amanda she knew the pups had arrived, but it wasn’t her news to share. The more she learned about her neighbor, the more she liked him. She also considered that all she’d heard about him could be too good to be true.

  “I hope so,” Amanda said. “He isn’t married, just so you know.”

  “I see,” Emma said, wondering why the conversation had shifted to this topic.

  “You aren’t married, right?” Amanda asked.

  Emma had to laugh. “No, I’m not.”

  “So why don’t you hook up with Mr. Kendrick?” Amanda asked.

  Emma was used to answering questions on the fly, but no one had ever questioned her marital status besides Harris and that librarian. Words failed her for a second, and then she spoke. “For starters, I don’t know him; he doesn’t know me. I don’t date guys I don’t know.” She gave Amanda an awkward smile. “Women have to be very careful.” She was sure that Nash wasn’t a danger to women, but she didn’t want to give the impression that knowing someone necessarily gave them a free pass. She hoped Amanda understood the point she was trying to make.

  “I think you guys would look cool together. You’re both tall. You’re pretty.” Amanda paused. “Mr. Kendrick is . . .” She laughed, then turned her face to the side.

  “He’s a nice-looking man,” Emma offered so Amanda wouldn’t be embarrassed. She remembered when she was fifteen. It had been an awkward age for her too, as she’d just begun her senior year in high school.

  Emma was saved when a lady with three small children made a noisy entrance. “I’ll see you soon,” she said before leaving.

  Amanda waved, then turned her attention to her new customers.

  Emma was no longer in the mood to shop, so she headed home, along with her bag of fudge, with much to think about.

  Once she was back home, with nothing left to do, she finished her ruined library book. Despite what she’d said that morning, she would return the book and those new copies Marlena had purchased. Never one to shuck off responsibilities, she hoped this simple act would remove her from the “book offenders” list. Small-town life—it was what she wanted. Emma had received her first full serving. She couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma got up early Monday morning. She dressed and did her hair and makeup just in case she was called in to substitute at one of the local schools. After nine, she knew all the schools were in session, so unless a teacher had an emergency, she had another free day. Changing to jeans and a chambray shirt, she decided she would work in the spare room today. Which reminded her to call a local carpenter who had been recommended to her by the real estate agent who sold her the condo. After spending twenty minutes on the phone with the contractor, she got his agreement to stop by after lunch to measure her guest room so she could have her custom-made closet.

  Emma kept some of her shoes in clear containers she’d purchased from the Container Store. She felt ashamed when she saw that half of the room was covered with expensive shoes. Amanda’s words came back to her: Her mother always worried about money. If she added up the cost of just her high heels—the Christian Louboutins, Jimmy Choos, and the Manolo Blahniks—they were worth several thousand dollars. Emma hadn’t given much thought to the cost of her shoes before because she’d wanted them and could easily afford them. But not everyone had a choice.

  She wanted to help Amanda and her mother. The key was doing it without making them feel like a charity case. A GoFundMe page was out of the question. Discovering a bag of money in the store would never pass; the thought was silly. How to help? She didn’t have a clue, but Emma wouldn’t give up. She wasn’t a quitter.

  Maybe a fundraiser through the school? She could ask Marlena or Nash. Emma thought Nash would know because he worked at the school. She would swallow her pride and ask him as soon as she saw him out on the lanai. If she didn’t see him, she’d knock on his door. With a temporary fix to Amanda’s family’s problem, at least in her mind, Emma went through her shoeboxes, discarding several pairs she knew she wouldn’t wear anymore. Five-inch heels didn’t have a place in her life at this point.

  The doorbell rang. “Coming,” she called, making her way to the door. She looked at the mess she’d made and hoped to have organized before the contractor, Jack Alan, arrived. But she hadn’t.

  Upon opening the door and seeing the man waiting on the other side, Emma said, “Jack? I’m Emma Swan. Thanks for stopping over today.” She stood aside, allowing him to enter. He was older than he’d sounded on the phone, but she didn’t care as long as he knew what he was doing.

  “Nice to meet you, Emma. I didn’t have much on my schedule today, so this worked out perfectly.” He held out his hand and she shook it, waiting for a reaction like the one she’d had with Nash. She felt nothing other than the strength in his grip.

 

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