“Easy to do. We can all get caught up in the whirlwind.” Charley watched a few leaves swirl in a vortex of air, then scatter in the breeze. “Now that you’re retired, you can start with a clean slate. That’s a wonderful blessing.”
“I agree—and I have lots of plans.”
“Ah yes. Plans. I remember those.” A smile played at his lips. “Years ago, as a young man determined to make a difference in the world, I had my whole future planned out in meticulous detail.”
“Is that bad?”
“Not always. Plans are necessary for many undertakings—like getting Hope House up and running. But plans do have a downside, as my abuela reminded me before I left Mexico.”
“Your grandmother didn’t approve of yours?”
“I don’t think she had an issue with my goal. More with the process I’d laid out for getting there. But she was too wise to criticize a young man who was burning with enthusiasm. What she did say stayed with me, though.”
He paused, and Stephanie’s lips twitched. The man certainly knew how to milk a story. “Are you going to tell me?”
“If you’d like to know. I don’t want to delay you.”
“There’s nowhere I have to be. As I told Zach not long ago, my days of back-to-back commitments are over.”
“Good for you. As for my abuela—she looked at me in that wise way of hers and said, ‘Plans are wonderful, mi querido—and it is wise to think ahead. But remember that this’”—he tapped the left side of his chest—“‘can sometimes alter plans. And that is not always bad. For those who have been raised well, the heart is the best compass at any crossroads.’”
Stephanie tightened her grip on the phone. Strange how he’d mentioned listening to the heart on the heels of her debate over the merits of that very course. “Have you found that advice to be helpful?”
His mouth curved up, his countenance reflecting peace and contentment. “Very. It’s what brought me here, to this lovely town that has been my home for many years.” He swept a hand over the surrounding buildings and the harbor. “I thought long and hard before I followed my heart—which is always smart—but in the end it didn’t betray me. It led me to my destiny.”
“Charley!” A man holding the hand of a little girl called out to him from a few yards away. “Are you opening today?”
He gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll be ready for business in ten minutes.” He turned back to her. “My customers are calling. Stop by later for tacos if you’re in the mood.” He touched the brim of his Ducks cap and strolled down the street.
Stephanie watched him for a few moments, then wandered toward her car, still holding her phone as she mulled over Charley’s comments.
They weren’t directly relevant to her situation. She wasn’t a young woman starting out with the lofty goal of making a difference in the world.
But the part about listening to the heart while pondering the choices at a crossroads applied.
Besides . . . wasn’t it similar to the practice she’d followed during her career, of listening to her instincts when evaluating business prospects? Of course she did her due diligence, gathered all the facts—but she’d never discounted her intuition.
And it had rarely failed her.
So if she’d trusted her instincts as she’d navigated the corporate jungle, why couldn’t she trust her heart to guide her on her personal journey?
At the very least, why not let it have its say?
She opened Frank’s email and skimmed it again.
The message was simple and straightforward. The man wasn’t asking her to marry him, for heaven’s sake. He was asking her to visit a state park. A casual, daytime outing to look at flowers. Dates didn’t get more innocent than that.
What could be the harm in going? It would give her another opportunity to learn more about him—and you could never have too much data when evaluating options.
Put in that context, accepting his invitation was an entirely logical, left brain decision.
Even if her heart was doing a happy dance as she lifted her phone and keyed in her response.
19
This was it.
As the cab that had brought him from the Atlanta airport pulled away from the curb and sped off, Zach pocketed his wallet and examined the two-story, Georgian-style brick house with the white columns that had been the center of his youthful world, back when harmony and happiness reigned here.
His childhood home hadn’t changed—but everything else had.
And showing up out of the blue could backfire. Exacerbate the enmity between him and his dad rather than restore peace.
His stomach knotted.
Maybe he should have called first.
But after hours of debating the best approach, of considering possible outcomes from every angle, his conclusion had always been the same. Calling would have been a dead end. His dad would have told him not to come—guaranteed.
As the old saying went, it was easier to ask for pardon than for permission.
And most people would find it difficult to ignore a family member standing on their doorstep. Plus, it was harder to close a door in someone’s face than to jab the end button on a cell phone.
His father could give him the cold shoulder—but perhaps the elder Garrett would take into account the almost three-thousand-mile journey that had brought his son to his doorstop and at least invite him in.
If he did . . . if he opened the door of the house . . . it was possible he’d also crack the door to his heart.
Or not.
Who knew how his dad would respond?
And standing out here on the sidewalk wasn’t going to give him that answer.
Zach bent, picked up his duffle and laptop case, and forced himself to walk down the path and up the two steps to the veranda that ran the length of the house.
At the door, he set the duffle down, leaned forward . . . and hesitated, finger poised over the button.
Just do it, Garrett.
Taking a fortifying breath, he pressed the bell.
From deep within the house, the familiar ding-dong chimed.
Ten seconds ticked by.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Sweat began to trickle down the middle of his back under the long-sleeved dress shirt he wore year-round in Hope Harbor. Too bad he hadn’t remembered how hot and muggy August could be in the South.
More beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as he pushed the bell again.
Could his dad have chosen to stay somewhere else the night before the surgery?
But why would he do that? None of the hospitals he was likely to use were more than a short drive—
The lock clicked.
The knob rattled.
The door swung open.
From the other side of the threshold, the man he hadn’t seen since Josh’s funeral stared back at him, looking exactly as he had that day—except for his almost palpable panic.
“Did something happen to Stephanie?”
It took a few seconds for his father’s question to register.
“No. She’s fine.”
But it wasn’t difficult to understand why his dad would jump to that conclusion. Why else would his estranged son travel across the country unless he had bad news to deliver?
Zach attempted a smile but only managed a tiny flex of his stiff lips. “I thought I’d drop in for a visit.”