“Okay.”
She was scrutinizing Eden’s face with the same bright-eyed, somewhat critical way she’d inspected Jasper. Trying to figure something out about her. Something she might just blurt in front of other people.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m sure you’ll find someone for your tastes one day,” she said gently.
Eden stifled a laugh.
“Thank you, child,” she said somberly.
Eden leaned back against the little old sofa and for a millisecond, imagined it was Gabe’s chest, and then pushed herself away from it because imagining that kind of comfort was really just another way of courting pain.
A couple of days later...
“It wasn’t my fault, I swear it. I truly meant to trim that tree branch.”
Harvey Millwood was in the kind of bind that roses could get him out of, which was why he was standing in Eden’s Garden, gazing at her imploringly.
“Well, it could happen to anyone,” Eden soothed from behind the counter.
“Just because Ihatedthat ridiculous birdbath fountain doesn’t mean I woulddeliberatelydestroy it. My wife loved it.”
“You don’t strike me as a vandal, Mr. Millwood.”
“I knew you’d understand, Miss Harwood. You have such sympathetic eyes. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Well, that’s thoughtful of you to say. And you know, nothing says I’m truly sorry like a dozen long-stem Ecuadorian roses... this color is called Movie Star, and you can tell her, ‘you’re the only star of my life.’”
“She would love that!” Harvey breathed, as if she was The Bard herself.
“Given that it’s a rather urgent apology, I can let you have them for... thirty.”
Which was their exact price. She was sympathetic. She wasn’t a patsy.
Harvey was sorting through his wallet for cash when her cell phone rang.
He peered over the counter at her phone and read the incoming caller.
“Mrs. Maker, huh? I’m guessing your day is about to get even harder than mine.”
Good Lord. Small towns. Everyone knew who Mrs. Maker was, and there were usually only two reasons she’d call, and both of them sent her adrenaline skyrocketing.
Eden leaned across the counter, snagged a twenty from Harvey’s wallet, and mouthed,take ’em.
It might not be Eden’s lucky day, but it was Harvey’s.
He departed, beaming.
She crossed her fingers and muttered, “Please be a butt dial please be a butt dial please be a butt dial...” and then answered the call.
She composed her voice. “This is Eden Harwood.”
“Mrs. Maker, here, Ms. Harwood.”
“Oh, shit. Oh God. Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud or mean it personally, Mrs. Maker. It’s just you’re so often a harbinger, as it were, of... of things...”
She closed her eyes and said a prayer.
“I know, dear. I can handle a little cursing. A harbinger and a humdinger, my husband always says. It seems Annelise has been in a fight.” She delivered this very matter-of-factly.