“Are you having fun?”
She fingered the petal of a velvety red rose beside her. Inhaled the sweet scent wafting upward as she composed her answer. “Honestly? I had more fun anticipating today than I’ve had since you picked me up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s life. I’ll get over it.” A damaged petal dropped into her hand. She examined the curled edges . . . and let it fall to the ground. “It’s probably for the best anyway.”
“Why?”
How to respond?
Should she save face and say that since she’d be leaving soon, getting too chummy wouldn’t be smart—or tell him the truth?
Be straightforward, Stephanie. You’re too old to play games—and mature enough to handle rejection.
She wiped her fingers, damp from the dewy petal, on her slacks. “I was getting too interested—and trying to figure out how to fit a relationship with you into the future I have planned has been a challenge. If the feeling isn’t mutual, that solves my dilemma.”
In the silence that followed, he gave a slow blink—as if her frankness had surprised him.
At last he inhaled. Straightened his shoulders. “Could we sit for a few minutes?” He motioned toward a bench off to the side.
“We don’t have to talk about this, Frank—and you don’t owe me any explanations. I’m a big girl. I’ll survive.” She was not going to get emotional about the end of a potential romance she hadn’t been all that certain was wise to begin with. Lightening her tone, she swept a hand over the nearby Japanese garden. “Why don’t we finish up there and drive back?”
“Because the feeling is mutual.”
Her heart missed a beat, and she pressed a hand to her chest.
Oh. My.
It took her a second to find her voice. “I’ll say this for you, Frank Simmons. You know how to keep a woman guessing.”
“That’s not my intent. Shall we?” He motioned to the bench. “Please.”
It was impossible to refuse his heartfelt request—or his warm, earnest blue eyes.
He followed her over, and after they were seated, angled toward her. “As long as we’re being honest, I have to tell you that until the day you walked into The Perfect Blend, romance wasn’t on my radar screen. And I never expected to feel like a teenager again. This whole turn of events has thrown me for a loop.”
“Join the club.”
“I also have the same concerns about logistics and geography as you do—plus another issue.”
“We may be able to work out the distance hurdle.” Especially if she decided to pull the trigger on an idea that had begun bouncing around in her head after her chat with Charley outside church Sunday. “What’s the other issue?”
He rested an arm on the back of the bench, his fingers inches from her shoulder. “Jo Ann.”
Ah.
He was worried that falling in love with someone else would be a betrayal of his late wife.
“I can’t say I understand that feeling from personal experience, but I can understand you wanting to be faithful to the memory of your wife and the love you shared.” She studied him. “How do you think she would feel about us?”
“I don’t know. She was a one-man woman. I was the only boy she ever dated—and we vowed to love each other as long as we lived.”
“You kept that promise.”
“But I’m still alive—and I’ll never stop loving her.”
She fingered the edge of her sweater, where a piece of yarn was beginning to unravel, and composed her reply with care. If Frank wasn’t ready to move on, pushing him that direction would be a mistake. “I can accept that—but does it mean there’s no room in your heart for someone else? What about those kids who’ll be living in Hope House? The ones who could use a foster grandfather? Will you be able to love them?”
“That’s a different type of love.”
“But don’t we love everyone in our life differently? Parents who have more than one child love them all. A new arrival doesn’t take away from their love for the children they already have. Each child is unique and has his or her own special place in their hearts. Couldn’t the same principle be applied to romantic love?”
The question hung in the air between them as the seconds ticked by—and it was impossible to read the kaleidoscope of emotions on Frank’s face.
This much was clear, however.
While prayer had guided her to a solution for the logistics part of their dilemma, Jo Ann was an obstacle Frank would have to overcome on his own.
The question was, could he?
Frank drew in a long, slow breath and watched a hummingbird flit among the roses.
The woman beside him had made an excellent point—a testament to her ability to analyze a situation and cut to the chase, a skill she would have honed in the wheeling-dealing business world.
And it raised several questions.
Could he view his growing feelings for Stephanie as equal, but different, than the love he and Jo Ann had shared—as Charley’s seagull Floyd had done?
What was holding him back, really? Was it loyalty to a vow that no longer applied—or fear of taking a leap into the unknown?
Would falling for Stephanie be—
“Hey.” She touched his hand and offered a reassuring smile. “I can almost hear the gears grinding in your brain. You don’t have to answer that question today. I was just tossing it out for your consideration.”
“I don’t mind answering. It’s not a question I’ve dwelt on, but I’m thinking the answer is yes. Every love is different. Loving one person doesn’t take away from the love you have for someone else. The trouble is, this unexpected—sizzle, if you will—between us is muddling my mind, making me doubt my judgment. I’ve also been around long enough to know it’s dangerous to play with electricity.”
“And I’ve been around long enough to know I can trust my instincts—and my heart.” A dimple appeared in her cheek. “That’s not to suggest I’m an impetuous woman, you understand. Far from it. I wouldn’t jump into anything on a whim. I do, however, believe in paying attention to the possibilities that drop into my lap—and feel right. You fall into both categories.”
He inched the hand he’d laid on the back of the bench toward her shoulder. Brushed his fingers against the fine, soft yarn. “Assuming we want to test the waters, continue to get to know each other, geography is against us.” He surveyed the sea, visible through the trees bordering the garden. “Believe me, I’ve thought about this long and hard, but I always come back to the same conclusion. I can’t imagine myself living in New York.”
“I can’t imagine it either. So I have a proposal about how to manage the geography—at least while we’re testing the waters, as you put it. I’ll rent a place here in Hope Harbor for a few months. My long tenure at my New York apartment means I can invoke the early exit clause in my contract if I choose. With three months’ notice, I can be out of there.”
Pressure built in his throat, and he dropped his hand to twine his fingers with hers. “You’d do that for me?”
“For us.”