apart—yanking their attention to the doorway, where an elderly couple stood grinning. Two short, round bookends in matching white polo shirts, Bermuda shorts and straw hats.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gibson?” Alex managed to find his voice.
“That’s us!” the woman sang out.
Her husband’s face split into a sly grin. “And I can tell from the way you two are looking at each other that you must be the newlyweds!”
“You and Charlie have to spend a few days there when you get a chance, my friend, Lydia, said.” Irene Gibson kicked a pinecone and sent it spinning off the path as she and Kate trudged toward the cabins. “‘Mirror Lake is one of the most peaceful places on earth.’”
“Uh-huh.” That didn’t sound too convincing, so Kate tried again. “It is peaceful.”
At least it had been. Up until Alex Porter descended on the place like the plagues of Egypt all rolled into one inflexible, infuriating man. A man who happened to have a smile that melted her defenses.
“I would have liked to meet Abby,” Irene prattled on. “She made Lydia and Simon’s fiftieth wedding anniversary so special by letting them renew their vows here last summer.”
Kate winced as the woman’s suitcase—shaped like a ladybug but certainly heavier than one—bumped against her bare ankle.
“Abby is one of my closest friends. I can vouch for the fact that she is a real sweetheart.”
Irene’s head bobbed up and down, rattling the cluster of fake cherries pinned to the crown of her hat. “Her brother seems to be, too.”
Kate stumbled. “Alex?”
“Oh.” Two penciled eyebrows dipped together to form a crooked line above the bridge of her nose. “Does she have more than one?”
“No…” But still.
“He’s quite easy on the eyes, I must say.” Irene’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Charlie was quite the looker when he was that age. One smile and I was a goner.”
“That’s very…romantic.” And hopefully, Kate thought a little desperately, impossible.
“How long have you two been dating?”
“Dating? No. Alex and I…we aren’t…” Come on. Spit it out, Kate! “We work together. Temporarily. We barely know each other.”
Irene didn’t seem to hear her. “The moment I met Charlie, I knew he was the one. He proposed two weeks later and I never looked back.”
Looking back wasn’t the issue. It was looking ahead. A relationship with Alex would be impossible. He lived and worked in Chicago. He wasn’t simply on the A-list, he made up the list. And he avoided relationships the way a person would avoid a communicable disease.
Because of his past.
“Don’t,” Kate muttered.
It wasn’t an excuse. Alex and Abby had both experienced the pain of losing someone they loved, but Abby had turned to God for healing. Alex had defaulted to his Grand Plan.
Irene clucked her tongue and the cherries on her hat wagged back and forth sympathetically. “I tried to talk myself out of it, too. It didn’t work.”
Kate had to try one more time. “Believe me, Mrs. Gibson, Alex and I have nothing in common. When you and your husband saw us—” she hesitated, then decided that the only way to nip this crazy idea in the bud was to be honest. Totally, brutally honest. “Well, we were right in the middle of a disagreement. Something that happens a lot, I might add.”
To Kate’s chagrin, the woman let out a merry laugh.
“You might have been in the middle of something, Miss Nichols, but trust me, from where I stood it wasn’t a disagreement.”
Chapter Eleven
A lex opened a cabinet door and came face to face with another heart-shaped sticky note, waiting for him like a fluorescent pink booby trap.
“Abby,” he growled his sister’s name, although she was thousands of miles away.
Alex wasn’t sure if the Bible verses he’d been finding tucked in odd places around the inn were meant for him or if they had something to do with Abby’s newfound faith. Knowing her, it was probably both.
He skimmed
“Mr. and Mrs. Gibson?” Alex managed to find his voice.
“That’s us!” the woman sang out.
Her husband’s face split into a sly grin. “And I can tell from the way you two are looking at each other that you must be the newlyweds!”
“You and Charlie have to spend a few days there when you get a chance, my friend, Lydia, said.” Irene Gibson kicked a pinecone and sent it spinning off the path as she and Kate trudged toward the cabins. “‘Mirror Lake is one of the most peaceful places on earth.’”
“Uh-huh.” That didn’t sound too convincing, so Kate tried again. “It is peaceful.”
At least it had been. Up until Alex Porter descended on the place like the plagues of Egypt all rolled into one inflexible, infuriating man. A man who happened to have a smile that melted her defenses.
“I would have liked to meet Abby,” Irene prattled on. “She made Lydia and Simon’s fiftieth wedding anniversary so special by letting them renew their vows here last summer.”
Kate winced as the woman’s suitcase—shaped like a ladybug but certainly heavier than one—bumped against her bare ankle.
“Abby is one of my closest friends. I can vouch for the fact that she is a real sweetheart.”
Irene’s head bobbed up and down, rattling the cluster of fake cherries pinned to the crown of her hat. “Her brother seems to be, too.”
Kate stumbled. “Alex?”
“Oh.” Two penciled eyebrows dipped together to form a crooked line above the bridge of her nose. “Does she have more than one?”
“No…” But still.
“He’s quite easy on the eyes, I must say.” Irene’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Charlie was quite the looker when he was that age. One smile and I was a goner.”
“That’s very…romantic.” And hopefully, Kate thought a little desperately, impossible.
“How long have you two been dating?”
“Dating? No. Alex and I…we aren’t…” Come on. Spit it out, Kate! “We work together. Temporarily. We barely know each other.”
Irene didn’t seem to hear her. “The moment I met Charlie, I knew he was the one. He proposed two weeks later and I never looked back.”
Looking back wasn’t the issue. It was looking ahead. A relationship with Alex would be impossible. He lived and worked in Chicago. He wasn’t simply on the A-list, he made up the list. And he avoided relationships the way a person would avoid a communicable disease.
Because of his past.
“Don’t,” Kate muttered.
It wasn’t an excuse. Alex and Abby had both experienced the pain of losing someone they loved, but Abby had turned to God for healing. Alex had defaulted to his Grand Plan.
Irene clucked her tongue and the cherries on her hat wagged back and forth sympathetically. “I tried to talk myself out of it, too. It didn’t work.”
Kate had to try one more time. “Believe me, Mrs. Gibson, Alex and I have nothing in common. When you and your husband saw us—” she hesitated, then decided that the only way to nip this crazy idea in the bud was to be honest. Totally, brutally honest. “Well, we were right in the middle of a disagreement. Something that happens a lot, I might add.”
To Kate’s chagrin, the woman let out a merry laugh.
“You might have been in the middle of something, Miss Nichols, but trust me, from where I stood it wasn’t a disagreement.”
Chapter Eleven
A lex opened a cabinet door and came face to face with another heart-shaped sticky note, waiting for him like a fluorescent pink booby trap.
“Abby,” he growled his sister’s name, although she was thousands of miles away.
Alex wasn’t sure if the Bible verses he’d been finding tucked in odd places around the inn were meant for him or if they had something to do with Abby’s newfound faith. Knowing her, it was probably both.
He skimmed
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