Blackberry Beach

by Irene Hannon

  “I’m not sure.” That was a cop-out. He knew exactly what he’d meant, but it was too early to have this discussion. “All I know is I like you. A lot. But I don’t have the gift of prophecy.”

  “Nor do I—or a crystal ball. Who knows what the future holds?” She motioned toward the path again. “You should get going.”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t ruin the tenderloin Stephanie had thoughtfully provided. “Why don’t you stop by The Perfect Blend tomorrow?”

  “I’ll think about it.” Without waiting for him to respond, she strode away.

  Fighting the urge to call to her again, he filled his lungs. What could he say, after all? Pass on the movie role? Ditch Hollywood? Move to Hope Harbor? Find a new path? Give us a chance?

  None of those were appropriate at this stage of their relationship.

  All he could do was hope she stayed in town long enough for them to find out if they had a future—and pray for guidance.

  For both of them.

  14

  Frank—Zach gave me your email address. Thought you might be interested in the attached. I plan to go. If you’d like to join me, we could share a ride and keep a few greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere. Stephanie

  Frank reread the message and clicked on the attachment.

  A photographer who’d published a book about exploring the hidden corners of America’s national parks was giving a talk at the community college in Coos Bay on Tuesday night. In three days.

  Leaning back in his chair in the spare bedroom that doubled as an office/study, he swiveled toward the window, where dust motes were dancing in the sunbeams streaming through the glass.

  How about that?

  Catching a woman’s eye was no small ego boost at any age—but at sixty-three?

  It was downright amazing.

  And not just any woman’s eye, either.

  Stephanie Garrett was in a class by herself. With her toned, youthful figure and radiant vivaciousness, she faced the world with a sparkle of enthusiasm in her green eyes and a can-do attitude.

  Zach’s aunt was proof that age was a matter of attitude rather than years. She was young—and would always remain so.

  He rocked back in his chair and linked his fingers over his stomach.

  It was flattering that she’d contacted him about a date—but her initiative wasn’t surprising. Stephanie seemed like a woman who was used to taking charge and going after what she wanted.

  Apparently she wanted him.

  Or at least she wanted to get to know him.

  A tiny quiver fluttered to life in the pit of his stomach, taking him back to the long-ago days when he’d been an insecure teen who got sweaty palms and a racing heart whenever he called a girl to ask her out . . . and a rush of thrilling euphoria if she said yes.

  It wasn’t the only trip down memory lane Zach’s aunt had induced either.

  His first encounter with her had also tapped into a buried trove of emotions, reminding him how he’d felt during his junior-year crush on the lead cheerleader at his high school. How he’d yearned for her to notice him, and experienced a buoyant sense of optimism and hope whenever he’d passed her in the hall.

  Except his hopes had gone unfulfilled. For all he knew, she’d never even known his name.

  Stephanie, however, had done more than notice him.

  She’d invited him out.

  His smile widened as he watched a fluffy white cloud drift past the window against the deep blue sky.

  Who could ever have predicted that such a smart, successful, spirited woman would be interested in him?

  Trouble was, she was out of his league.

  His delight dimmed a few watts, and he leaned his head against the back of his chair. Stared at the ceiling.

  As he’d told Zach, they were from two different worlds. Asking him to join her at a national park–themed event was thoughtful, but would she go by herself if he declined her invitation?

  Doubtful.

  More likely, she’d seek out a new art gallery opening or ballet performance or a talk by a business leader.

  Besides, while she might enjoy watching a presentation of photos from the great outdoors, what were the odds she’d relish hiking in an actual forest or canoeing on a mountain lake, far from civilization?

  Not that it mattered.

  Straightening up, he brushed a shortbread crumb off his sleeve, a leftover from his shift at The Perfect Blend.

  He wasn’t in the market for another romance. Jo Ann had been all the woman he ever needed. Full of pep, always ready for the next adventure, a true companion whose interests and passions and priorities had been in sync with his from day one.

  Having her by his side for thirty-seven glorious years had been the greatest blessing of his life.

  His vision misted, and he sniffed. Dug out a handkerchief.

  Carrying on after she died had been hard, but with frequent prayer and countless pep talks, he’d managed to carve out a new life here in Hope Harbor.

  And he was as content as he could be without her.

  Or he had been, until a certain New York executive walked into his peaceful world and stirred the pot.

  Swiveling away from the sunshine, he blew his nose and stowed the handkerchief. Skimmed the flyer again. Reread her note.

  Despite all his misgivings and internal naysaying, a tiny part of him wanted to accept the invitation.

  But that could be easily explained. He was flattered by her interest. What man wouldn’t be? The little buzz riffing along his nerve endings was nothing more than normal male reaction to attention from a beautiful woman.

  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he called up an image of her. Why no one had ever managed to convince her to stroll down the aisle was a mystery. Surely there had been plenty of men in her jet-setting world who would have been worthy candidates for her affection.

  Heck, if he’d been in her orbit—and if he’d never met Jo Ann—he’d have been first in her suitor line.

  But he hadn’t been.

  And ifs didn’t change reality.

  He’d been a postal worker for his entire career, content to run the same route day after day, with no ambition to rise in the ranks. Being able to leave the job behind at the end of the workday and spend his evenings and weekends with Jo Ann had been enough.

  An ambitious woman like Steph, who’d fought her way to the top in a male-dominated industry, would be unimpressed with such an unenterprising attitude.

  Why belabor a decision that was obvious?

  He positioned his fingers on the keys of the laptop, struggling to compose a reply that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. The invitation had been kind, and it had taken courage to send it with the attendant risk of rejection.

  But accepting was pointless.

  Assuming they somehow managed to find common ground beyond the hum of attraction even his boss had noticed, she wouldn’t be staying around long.

  And getting romantically involved with a short-timer . . . letting her infiltrate his heart . . . would be foolish.

  Losing one woman he’d loved had about killed him.

  Watching a second one vanish from his life would finish the job.

  So despite the sizzle that had sparked between them the day she walked into The Perfect Blend, it was safer to keep his distance while she was in town—and forget about her the minute she left.

  For both their sakes, that was the prudent course.

  Now all he had to do was summon up the willpower to follow it.

  The Perfect Blend was closed?

  Frowning, Katherine twisted the knob again.

  No question about it. The door was locked.

  Cupping her hands around her face, she peered inside. The place was dark and empty.

  How bizarre was that?

  Hadn’t Zach said he was open every day from seven to one?

  Stepping back from the door, she scanned the front of the building. There. The hours were posted on a placard ins
ide the plate glass window beside the entrance.

  She moved closer.

  Huh.

  The hours were seven to one—but the shop was closed on Sunday.

  Seriously?

  Who closed on Sundays in today’s world—especially a coffee shop? Wouldn’t that be one of the busier days?

  So much for her skinny vanilla latte . . . and another chat with her neighbor.

  Down the street, a bell began to chime the noon hour, and she angled toward the sound.

  Must be from St. Francis. If all the cars in the parking lot she’d passed on her drive into town were any indication, they had a full house for the service that was either already underway or beginning.

  Giving up weekly church attendance to protect her identity had been difficult—but now that Charley had deemed her disguise solid, maybe she could slip into the back of Grace Christian next Sunday. An hour in God’s house might help stabilize the crumbling foundation of her world.

  The sun disappeared, and she shivered as a spiral of mist curled around her. A momentary dreary spell—or was the capricious fog about to sock in the town?

  You never knew in Hope Harbor. One minute could be sunny, the next gray.

  Kind of like life.

  Shoulders slumping, chin down, she trudged back toward her car.

  “Kat!”

  At the summons, she halted and raised her head.

  Stephanie stopped her rental car at the curb and called across the passenger seat, through the open window. “I thought that was you. I’ve been hoping you’d take me up on my offer to come into town and share a piece of Eleanor’s fudge cake, but I understand Zach beat me to it.”

  So his aunt knew about their impromptu get-together.

  What else had Zach told her?

  “It was an unplanned stop. We ran into each other at the wharf.”

  “So I heard. What are you doing in town today?”

  She motioned toward the shuttered shop. “I was hoping for a latte, but I’m out of luck.”

  “So is everyone else in town. I told Zach closing on Sunday wasn’t a smart business move, but he says it should be a day of rest—and that not every decision should be about money.”

  Admirable—even if it left her latte craving unsatisfied.

  “It’s not a big deal. I can stop in another day—and the coffee bar at the house I’m renting will satisfy my urge for caffeine.” If not for companionship.

  “I have a counteroffer. Do you like tea?”

  “Not as much as coffee.” Best to hedge until she saw where this was going.

  “Well, unless you can’t stomach it or have other plans, why don’t you join me for afternoon tea? Zach and I were supposed to go, but he got roped into an emergency Helping Hands project as we were leaving church. His reservation will be wasted if you turn me down—and I’ll have to drink tea and eat scones and fancy cakes all by myself.” Stephanie grinned.

  Afternoon tea.

  That would be fun, but . . .

  She examined her leggings and belted tunic. A bit more upscale attire than she’d been wearing during most of her stay—not that her trip to The Perfect Blend . . . or seeing Zach . . . had anything to do with her wardrobe choices today—but it wasn’t exactly formal.

  “I’m not dressed for that sort of event.”

  “Nonsense.” Her neighbor’s aunt waved the excuse aside. “You’re fine. I’m not wearing my tiara either.”

  It was hard not to cave under the woman’s infectious good humor and down-to-earth manner.

  And it wasn’t as if she was all that excited about the long, empty afternoon stretching ahead. Her brain was fried from constant thinking, and she couldn’t make any more candy until the next order of chocolate arrived.

  Plus, from what she’d gleaned, Zach’s aunt had led a fascinating life. Listening to her stories for a couple of hours could be the break she needed to refresh her mind.

  “You’ve convinced me. I haven’t been to a tea in ages.”

  “Wonderful! Hop in.”

  “Um . . . I could follow you.” She motioned toward her car, parked a few spots down.

  “Why waste gas?”

  “Are we going far?”

  “Only a few miles. Bayview Lavender Farm and Tearoom is south of town. I met the owner at Zach’s church. A charming young woman. And the place gets rave reviews. It will be a perfect outing on a day that appears poised to turn gray.”

  As if to confirm Stephanie’s prediction, a drop of rain splashed onto Katherine’s nose.

  Since there was no logical excuse not to ride with Stephanie, she crossed the sidewalk and slid into the passenger seat.

  The woman’s lively, nonstop chitchat lifted her spirits, and by the time they arrived at their destination, Katherine’s mood was much more upbeat.

  “Is this a real lavender farm?” She scanned the cars in the small parking lot in front of the low-slung building.

  “Yes. I believe the flower beds are in the back. Jeannette West, the owner, moved here several years ago and ended up marrying the doctor from the urgent care center in town.” Stephanie shut off the engine. “Shall we?”

  Katherine fell in beside her as they walked toward the entrance, where a woman with long, wavy brown hair greeted them. “Don’t tell me Zach chickened out.”

  “He had a legitimate excuse to bail—or so he told me.” Stephanie’s eyes began to twinkle. “I assume from your comment that male customers are in the minority.”

  “A vast understatement. The few who do get roped into coming generally finish eating in fifteen minutes flat and stop for a burger en route home. Most women, on the other hand, linger for a couple of hours and leave with a box of leftovers.”

  Stephanie huffed out a breath. “How stereotypical. Eating isn’t the main goal of tea. It’s more about taking a respite from the hectic pace of our crazy world.”

  “Amen to that.” Jeannette held out her hand and introduced herself as Katherine returned her firm shake.

  “Sorry.” Stephanie completed the formalities, and after a few more pleasantries were exchanged, Jeannette showed them to a table beside a large picture window.

  “We’re at the height of the bloom season.” She handed them tea menus. “I’ll be back to take your tea order in a few minutes. In the meantime, enjoy the view.”

  “This is gorgeous.” Katherine scanned the lush beds filled with purple flowers.

  “I agree. As lovely as Provence.”

  After another sweep of the gardens, Katherine focused on her companion. “From what you said the day we met, I take it you’ve traveled a lot.”

  “Enough for two lifetimes. I’ve been to every continent, and most of the big cities in the world.” Her comment was matter-of-fact. No trace of bragging.

  “Your job must have been exciting.”

  “More in theory than in reality.”

  She’d made a similar comment the day they’d met—but Zach’s appearance had sidetracked that conversation.

  Jeannette came by for their tea order, but as soon as she retreated, Katherine returned to their previous topic. “So there was a disconnect between the reality and the theory?”

  “A huge one.” The older woman’s lips tipped up. “Let me put it like this. My job was like going to a carnival as a kid. At first, the fast rides and games of chance and unhealthy food are exhilarating. But if you did that day after day, every day, the thrill would fade. While there were parts of my career I loved—like working one-on-one with clients—the endless meetings and constant travel and corporate politics got old.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Your career has a similar downside?”

  She was saved from having to answer by Jeannette, who delivered a three-tier stand filled with scones, finger sandwiches, and pastries. After giving them a description of each offering, she left them with a promise that their tea would be ready soon.

  But Stephanie repeated her question as soon as the woman walked away.

>   Katherine smoothed a crease in the linen napkin in her lap, scrambling to come up with a reply that wouldn’t give too much away . . . or shut down this topic.

  “To some degree. That’s why I’m taking a break to reevaluate. It’s been very stressful—and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this relaxing interlude to temporarily leave it all behind.”

  Once again, Zach’s aunt proved to be as astute as her nephew. You didn’t get into the executive ranks of a global company without learning to read signals and discern messages hidden within diplomatic phrasing.

  Including ones that said back off.

  “Then I’m extra glad we ran into each other today.” She helped herself to a cucumber sandwich. “I always start with these. Dig in.”

  Katherine followed her lead. While Stephanie had respected her message that her own situation was off-limits, would she be willing to share more about her experiences? A woman who’d remained in a profession that appeared to have had as many downsides as acting, albeit of a different nature, could have a few insights to offer.

  “May I ask you a question about your career?” Katherine took a dainty bite of her sandwich.

  “Of course.”

  “If there were parts of your job you didn’t like, and the travel got old, why did you stick with it?”

  Before she could respond, Jeannette approached with a teapot, poured their Earl Grey into delicate cups, and again retreated.

  Around them, the tinkle of silver against china, the muted conversation, and the strains of classical music created a soothing ambiance, and the tension that was always present in her shoulders—except while she was making candy—eased.

  “That’s a question I asked myself often early in my career, when I was working sixty-hour weeks, living out of a suitcase, and had no personal life.” Stephanie took a sip of tea and selected another sandwich. “The answer finally came to me. I didn’t want to disappoint my father.”

  Katherine stared at her.

  That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.

  “You’re surprised, aren’t you?”

  Katherine fiddled with her cup. “Honestly? Yes. You come across as a strong, independent woman.”