Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(22)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

Jon planted his fists on his hips. If Kyle wasn’t going to let this go, he’d have to address the situation. “What does that mean?”

 

“You sounded very friendly on the phone. Happy, even.”

 

“Who wouldn’t be happy, after being awarded a job like this?”

 

“Uh-huh.” The other man grinned. “Unless you have anything else for me to do, I’m gonna take off. Sarah wants to drive up to the lighthouse tonight and catch the sunset.”

 

“We’re done for the day.”

 

“You want to join us?”

 

Jon gave him a get-real look. “Are you kidding? Your bride would have my head if I intruded on such a romantic outing.”

 

“Who said anything about romance? There’s always a large contingent of locals and tourists up there in the summer to catch the best show in town—which you’d know if you ever ventured out in the evening and mingled a little. You must have romance on the mind.”

 

“Go home, Kyle.”

 

The man shrugged. “You’re the boss. If you change your mind, though, give me a call.” Jingling his keys, he walked to his car.

 

Jon waited until he pulled away, then slid behind the wheel of his truck and started the engine.

 

His foreman meant well, but his efforts were misguided. And his assumption about his boss’s mindset was all wrong.

 

Romance wasn’t on his mind. He could control his thoughts—more or less.

 

The problem was his heart.

 

That, it seemed, had a mind of its own.

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

 

As the organ launched into the final hymn for the Sunday service at Grace Christian Church, Ashley stood and sent a silent thank-you heavenward.

 

Tired as she was after the flurry of activity to close up her apartment, the ton of research she’d done on various wedding-and-special-event-related vendors in the Hope Harbor area, and the long solo drive across the country, everything had fallen into such impeccable alignment that it had to be divinely inspired.

 

And what more appropriate place to offer thanks than here, in the Almighty’s house?

 

Once the last notes of the hymn died away, Ashley sat again in her pew while the congregants filed out. Anxious as she was to meet the Hope Harbor residents, the twelve days since Rose’s new terms had sealed the deal had been nonstop. And her late arrival last night hadn’t helped. Carrying on a lucid conversation in her present state of fatigue would be difficult, and first impressions mattered. It would be wiser to defer a meet and greet until she clocked a decent night’s sleep.

 

When only a handful of people remained in the nave, she rose and headed toward the back. A few congregants were still in the vestibule, gathered in small groups, but she ought to be able to slip past them and—

 

“Good morning. Welcome to Grace Christian.”

 

Drat.

 

So much for her discreet escape.

 

Tamping down her weariness, she turned to find the pastor approaching. “Thank you. It was a wonderful service.”

 

“I’m delighted you joined us. Reverend Paul Baker. A pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand.

 

“Ashley Scott.” She returned his firm handshake.

 

“Ah. It’s nice to have a face to go with the voice from our phone conversation about Rose. What a pleasure to meet her new partner in person.”

 

The taco chef who’d treated her to lunch on her last visit hadn’t been kidding about the local grapevine.

 

“It appears news about the deal has preceded me.”

 

A glint of humor appeared in his irises. “I doubt every single person in town is aware of it, but I expect a significant portion of the population is.”

 

“Where did you hear it was a done deal?”

 

“From Marci Weber, the editor of the Herald. She ran into your contractor at the gas station, who mentioned she’d been tapped for the house updates. I imagine Marci will be in hot pursuit of a story once she hears you’re . . . well, speak of the devil.” He nodded toward a thirtysomething woman who was bearing down on them.

 

Ashley kept tabs on the redhead, who got waylaid by another congregant. “Given what I want to accomplish at Edgecliff, I’ll take all the publicity I can get. It will generate both interest and customers.”

 

“I doubt you’ll have any trouble rounding up either. Edgecliff is legendary in these parts, and while I’ve never had the honor of visiting there, I understand the setting is sublime.”

 

“It is. It’s made for weddings. Or it will be, as soon as the gazebo is rebuilt and the gardens are in shape.”

 

“I have to admit I was surprised by Rose’s interest in such a project. Hard as I’ve tried to persuade her to attend services, she rarely leaves the property. And she never mingles with the townsfolk, despite repeated invitations to attend various events. Your powers of persuasion must be remarkable.”

 

A man in a black shirt, black pants, and a Roman collar hustled toward them, the outside door closing behind him. “Better than yours, I imagine. Otherwise your congregation would be growing.” A merry grin neutralized the jibe.

 

Reverend Baker shook his head. “My fellow cleric in town, Father Kevin Murphy from St. Francis.” He folded his arms as the priest joined them. “He thinks he’s funny. We try to humor him.”

 

“I am funny. Ask my parishioners. I told a hilarious joke in my homily this morning.”

 

“Preaching is not a stand-up comedy routine.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with a touch of levity.” The padre’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t you think God has a sense of humor?”

 

“He must have. You made it to ordination, didn’t you?”

 

“Ouch.” The priest winced, licked his left index finger, and drew it through the air. “You’re one up.” Then he held out his hand as Ashley tried to smother a chuckle. “Welcome to Hope Harbor.”

 

She introduced herself while returning his hearty handshake. “I just arrived last night.”

 

“Oh yes. I know all about your association with Rose. Welcome!”

 

The minister studied him. “Who filled you in?”