My heart went out to him. “I’d love to come visit. And I’ll bring you an apple pie.”

He took my arm. “You’re a good girl. Now let’s get you some paint.”

With Mr. Frankel’s help, I chose a shade called White Dove, then I called Griffin to ask what other supplies we’d need to get the job done this weekend. I didn’t want to purchase anything he already had.

“We’re repainting the lobby this weekend?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“Yes. Do you have painter’s tape?” I inquired, looking at the shelves in front of me.

“Yes. And brushes, trays and rollers somewhere. But grab a couple liners and also some caulk.”

“Caulk? I don’t know what that is, but okay.”

Griffin laughed. “Frankel will know. And tell him to put it on my tab.”

“Okay.”

“How are you going to get everything back here?” Griffin asked. “Should I come get you?”

“He was going to have it all delivered.”

“I’ll come get you. Sit tight, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” I smiled. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Frankel says he’ll give us a ten percent discount as a wedding gift.”

Griffin exhaled audibly. “I give up. Tell him thanks.”

We unloaded the paint and supplies in the lobby and locked the front door. Griffin said he still had some things to do, so while he finished up work, I walked over to the Maple Street Market and bought groceries for the picnic I was planning for tonight.

I had just unpacked the bags when my cell phone rang—it was Frannie MacAllister.

Saying a quick prayer, I answered it. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Blair?”

“Yes. Is this Frannie?”

“Yes. I’m sorry it took me a while to get back to you. Between my shop and my three stepdaughters, I rarely get a spare minute.”

“That’s okay. I hope it’s all right that Cheyenne gave me your number.”

“Of course! She called me this morning and told me about you, and I’m convinced this has to be fate, because I literally just said to my husband the other night, ‘I could really use some full-time help at the shop this fall.’” She laughed and lowered her voice. “I’m pregnant with twins, due in March.”

I gasped. “Oh my goodness! Congratulations!”

“Thank you. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it, you know?”

“I bet.”

“Anyway, I have someone working for me who’s really talented but she’s going back to school in a week.”

“I’m sort of committed here in Bellamy Creek until Labor Day,” I hedged.

“No problem,” Frannie said. “I can cover things until you’re ready to start. Would there be a day you could come up to Traverse City and interview? We could talk about the position and make sure it’s the right fit?”

“I’d love that! I’ll need to look at places to live too. I’m sort of . . . starting over from scratch, so to speak.”

“I totally understand, and I’ve lived here all my life, so I can help.”

My throat lumped up. “Thank you so much, Frannie. I’m about to cry. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“You’re very welcome. Cheyenne told me your story, and I completely sympathized. I had to get out from under my parents’ roof and do my own thing too. It’s not easy.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you’re crazy successful, so I know I could learn a lot working for you. I have to wait for my car to be fixed before I can get to Traverse City, so would next weekend be okay?”

“Sure! How about next Saturday around four o’clock? Week from tomorrow?”

“That sounds good.”

“Great. See you then.”

I thanked her again and ended the call, put the interview date in my calendar, and allowed myself a little victory dance. Then I turned on some Kacey Musgraves and hummed along as I made dough for a galette, and while it chilled I put together a filling with spinach, caramelized onions, white beans, and Gruyère.

While it was in the oven, Griffin came up the stairs, stopped at the top, and sniffed. “What is that smell? It’s fucking amazing.”

“It’s dinner.” I turned down the music and continued rinsing a bunch of grapes.

“You made dinner?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you wanted to go for a drive.”

“I do.” I transferred the grapes to a plastic bag. “That’s why I’m packing us a picnic in the basket Mrs. Applebee sent our wedding gift in. Got an old blanket we could use?”

“I think so. Try the hall closet.”

“Okay.” I dried my hands and turned to face him, bursting with my news. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I talked to Frannie MacAllister, the woman with the coffee shop near Cloverleigh Farms, and she is hiring! I’m going up there to meet her for an interview next weekend!”

“That’s awesome.”

“Isn’t it?” I twirled around. “I’m so happy, Griffin. Finally, something went right! I feel like it’s a sign!”

“Good.”

Dizzy, I leaned back against the counter and looked at him, unable to stop smiling. “This is the best day ever.”

He grinned at me. “And it’s not over yet.”

An hour later, I squealed with delight as Griffin pulled up in the front of his building in a bright red vintage pickup truck, windows down. “Oh my God! It’s adorable!”

After throwing the truck in park, he got out and came around to the sidewalk. “Can a truck be adorable?”

“This one can.” But it was Griffin who made me sigh as he opened the passenger door for me. His damp hair was combed but pieces kept flopping over his forehead, his faded blue jeans hugged his butt, the blue of his fitted T-shirt matched his watercolor eyes—my heart nearly jumped out of my chest as he reached for the basket in my arms.

“Here, let me take that.” He placed it on the front seat and offered me a hand getting in.

I tried to climb up without flashing my underwear at him, not easy in the short white sundress I wore—although, I admit, I’d chosen the dress on purpose since Griffin seemed to like looking at my legs. In fact, we were only at the first stop sign when I caught him staring.

“You look nice,” he said.

“Thanks. I know how you like me in a white dress.”

His eyes rose from my legs to my face. “Funny.”

I slipped my sunglasses on. “And all yours for the whole night. Lucky you.”

He shook his head, grinning as he focused out the windshield again. “Lucky me.”

For about twenty minutes, we just drove down country roads with the windows down, listening to the truck’s scratchy AM radio as the sun sank lower in the sky. We didn’t talk much, but that was okay with me—I was content to watch the scenery roll by, hum along to old-timey tunes, and inhale the fresh air. I felt happier than I had in a long time.

Eventually, he turned off the highway onto a dirt road. Another mile or so down, he turned into a driveway blocked by a rusty gate with a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign on it. Griffin put the truck in park and said, “Be right back.”