“I suppose there is. His father was the same way, God rest his soul, and we were together for almost forty years.” She sighed. “So maybe there’s still hope.”

Griffin and I had a quick working lunch together, during which we discussed a few more ideas for the Labor Day weekend event—he liked my idea for a raffle and gave me several good suggestions for prizes—a budget for some new lobby furniture, and the name of a reporter at the local newspaper who was a good customer and might be willing to give us some press.

“Great,” I said, writing down the name and making a note to get an email address or phone number. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He crumpled up his sandwich wrapper and stuffed it into the empty brown deli bag. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” I looked up and saw his brow knitted in concern. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You seem a little distracted.”

“Sorry. A lot on my mind.”

He tipped up the last of his iced tea. “My mother say something to upset you?”

“No.” I shrugged and looked at my half-eaten sandwich. “Just the thing about the spare room not being ready. You’re sure it’s okay I crash with you until it is?”

“I’m completely, one hundred percent sure, and you know it. I want my bedtime story. And I have plans for you.”

I met his eyes as warmth crept into my face. “You do?”

“Yes. But they have to wait until after the game.”

I smiled, perking up again. “I’m looking forward to watching.”

“Good. But are you changing the subject because you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you? You’ve hardly touched your lunch.”

Sighing, I set my pen down and sat back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Okay. I got another message from my mother this morning asking me to please call and let her know I’m not dead or kidnapped.”

“You haven’t called her since you left?”

“No! I’m mad at her. I wanted her support to live my life the way I want to live it, and she wouldn’t give it to me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Mothers can be tough.”

“But I did call her back to let her know I was safe.”

“Good.”

“Of course, once she heard what happened with my car she gave me a big fat I told you so lecture. She said it was clearly a sign that I’m not cut out for independence and I should come home immediately before I get myself abducted by sex traffickers on the side of the road.”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to her.”

“I didn’t. I’m not. It’s just . . .” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Hard.”

“That’s life.”

“She said I was abandoning my family.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Griffin stood up and came around to my side of the table, dropping into the chair next to me. “Listen. It’s good that you called her and told her you’re safe, but you don’t owe her any more than that. Just like I don’t owe my mother grandchildren.”

“I guess.”

“Come on.” He chucked me gently beneath the chin. “She obviously raised you to have the backbone and guts to go after your dream, right? She should be proud of you. You should be proud of you.”

“But I haven’t done anything yet.”

He took my chin in his hand this time, forcing me to look at him. “You will. Don’t quit.”

His blue eyes were full of sincerity—he believed in me. It made all the difference. I smiled. “Okay.”

After lunch, I went back into the bay and asked Andy for his girlfriend’s contact information so I could get in touch regarding a new logo and website design. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon at the desk, dedicating every spare moment I had to the renovation and the grand reopening event. Several people came in inquiring about the scones, and I had to tell them we were all out but to please come back tomorrow—I was planning to make lemon lavender shortbread. At the market this morning, I’d purchased lavender from the local farm, and I couldn’t wait to use it.

But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking about the encouragement Griffin had given me, and it warmed my heart every time.

Darlene was right—Griffin would have made an excellent husband and dad. Oh sure, that temper would get the better of him when his sixteen-year-old daughter broke curfew or his seventeen-year-old son tried refusing to stack the tires, but at heart he was kind and patient. He was generous. He didn’t like relying on other people, but he knew how to put them first.

Why was he so determined to be alone?

The question grabbed ahold of me and refused to let go.

Around quarter to seven, Cheyenne texted that she’d pulled up in front. Grabbing my bag, I called au revoir to Bisou and hurried out to meet her.

“Hi,” I said breathlessly after jumping into her car. “Thanks so much for picking me up.”

“No problem!” She gave me a grin. “I figured you wouldn’t want to spend two hours at the field watching a bunch of old men play catch and thump their chests.”

I laughed. “I appreciate it. I love your hair, by the way. It’s so cute.”

“Thanks. I was in desperate need of a trim. And you gotta love a good blowout.”

“I hear you. In my old life, I used to get my hair blown out like twice a week.” I shook my head. “Now it seems like such an extravagance.”

“Wow. Twice a week?”

“Yeah.” I was kind of embarrassed to admit it now. “Wish I could get that money back.”

“So you’re saving to open a bakery?”

“Eventually. That’s my ultimate goal.”

“And my mom said you’re moving up near Cloverleigh Farms? That is, if she can’t convince you that the entire Leelenau Peninsula is plagued by murder hornets, hurricanes, and malaria—and oh, it’s going to sink into Lake Michigan any day now. Don’t you think you’d be better off right here in Bellamy Creek? Married to her son and giving her grandchildren?”

I laughed. “I think that’s what she has in mind, yes.”

Cheyenne sighed as she turned into the Bellamy Creek High School parking lot. “I love her to death and she’s my mom, but she can drive a person plumb crazy. Just ignore her.”

“It’s okay. She makes me laugh, and she’s been really kind to me. Your whole family has. The whole town has, actually. I can’t tell you how many people came in to introduce themselves today.”

Cheyenne pulled into an empty spot. “Bellamy Creek is a friendly town, but you’ve also sparked a lot of curiosity. We’re used to the same people in the same places, or tourists coming through. We’re not used to beautiful, mysterious women in wedding dresses who charm one of the town’s most stubborn bachelors and bake like dear, departed Betty Frankel.”

“God, that dress.” I laughed ruefully as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I thought it would bring me good luck in my new life. So far it’s been nothing but disaster!”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Cheyenne said as we walked toward the field. “I mean, things could have been worse, right? You could have blown that tire on the highway outside town.”