Maybe it was time to follow the advice she’d given Zach days ago—if the clock is ticking on a decision, listen to your heart and take a leap of faith.
She refocused on the minister, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “I think you helped me find the answer I’ve been searching for. I appreciate—”
“Paul! You ready to go?”
At the interruption, they turned in unison toward the entrance to the garden.
A late-fiftyish man, wearing a sport shirt and carrying a few extra pounds, trotted around the large rhododendron, a golf bag slung over his shoulder.
He came to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of them. “Whoops. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Katherine rose.
“No worries.” The minister stood too. “We were just chatting. I did such a great sell job on your garden, one of my new congregants stopped by to visit while I was waiting for you.”
Reverend Baker introduced them as the priest continued down the path.
Father Murphy gave her hand a vigorous pump. “Wonderful to meet you. You’re welcome anytime—in the garden, or in St. Francis, if someone’s sermons get too boring . . . not to mention any names.” He nudged his fellow cleric.
“Very funny.” Reverend Baker shot him a disgruntled look, but the twitch in his lips suggested the two of them had been through this amicable routine before. “At least my sermons include Bible quotes.”
“We have three Bible readings every Sunday, in case you’ve forgotten—and I always reference them in my homily.” The padre directed his next comment to her. “I hope if you’re in town for a while you’ll stop by on a Sunday. Do a little comparison shopping, find the best value.”
The minister rolled his eyes. “You sound like a used car salesman.”
“Nothing wrong with putting marketing principles to work for faith. I’m willing to try anything that could bolster church attendance and get people more invested in their relationship with the Lord.” He turned back to her. “If it’s any incentive, we also serve tastier donuts.”
“Not true . . . but I’m not going to debate that point.” Reverend Baker motioned toward the entrance to the garden. “Do you want to play golf or not? If we stand around here talking, we’re going to miss our tee time.”
“Perish the thought.” The priest hoisted his bag of clubs higher and shook her hand again. “Stay as long as you like. At this hour of the morning, you should have this little piece of paradise all to yourself. Paul, I’ll meet you at the car.”
With that, he retraced his steps down the path.
“Kevin’s giving us a minute to wrap up.” The minister followed his progress, an affectionate smile tugging at his lips. “Sometimes my wisecracking Catholic colleague has more discernment than I give him credit for. To tell the truth, he’s an all-around good guy—not that I’d say that to his face. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for giving him an inflated ego.” He shifted his attention back to her. “If you’d like to continue this conversation later, I’m available.”
“Thank you for that—and for your insights this morning. I think I’ll be okay now.”
He extended his hand. “I’m glad I was of help. And the offer stands if you decide you want to bounce more ideas off someone.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Enjoy your game.”
“Goes without saying. It’s one of the highlights of my week.” Grinning, he took off down the path.
After he disappeared around the rhododendron, the muffled conversation of the two clergymen drifted back as they continued their banter.
Katherine gave them a few minutes’ head start, then meandered back toward the entrance. Much as she’d like to linger in this peaceful spot, she had a stop to make before her lunch with Simon.
It wasn’t one she relished, but now that she’d settled on a course of action, it was only fair to share her decision with the man who had a personal stake in the outcome.
26
As Katherine came through the door of The Perfect Blend, the cranberry scone Zach had pilfered from the display case for breakfast turned to a rock in his stomach.
She’d come to a decision. He could see it in her eyes.
The movie was a go.
Meaning her days in Hope Harbor were coming to an end.
“Watch the foam.”
At Frank’s warning, he jerked his attention back to the cappuccino he was finishing.
His signature swirl looked more like a deformed question mark than an artistic flourish.
As Katherine walked toward him, he added more foam to cover up his mistake and handed the drink to the waiting customer.
After giving the bustling shop a scan, she pulled out the dark sunglasses she’d worn on her first visit and slipped them on.
He managed to call up a smile. “Good morning. You look like a skinny vanilla latte woman.”
Her lips bowed up. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Nope. Only the special ones. You want a small—or are you going to splurge and go medium today?”
“Small works.”
“I’ll have it ready in three minutes. If you want to find a seat, I’ll even deliver it.”
“Could you join me for a few minutes?” Twin furrows dented her brow as she gave the interior another survey. “Or is it too busy? I know coffee shops can be crazy in the morning. I should have thought of that.”
“The rush hour—or what constitutes rush hour in Hope Harbor—is slowing. Frank can cover for me while we chat. Go ahead and claim a table.”
She headed for the booth for two tucked into the back corner, where they’d sat the day he’d brought her here to sample Eleanor Cooper’s fudge cake after their impromptu taco lunch on the wharf.
The one that offered the most privacy.
Confirming his conclusion she had news to share.
As he prepared her drink, gave Frank reign over the counter, and walked over to join her, he tried to psyche himself up for the conversation to come.
There was no question that taking the role was the right decision for her. After all the years she’d worked to reach this pinnacle, she owed it to herself to plant a flag on the summit—whatever she decided to do afterward. Coming this close to realizing her dream, only to walk away when it was within her grasp, would be a decision she’d regret the rest of her life.
That’s why he’d sucked it up and played devil’s advocate on the beach last night. And it was why he’d continue to support her choice, despite the risk.
The significant risk.
Katherine might think she was burned out on the Hollywood lifestyle and lack of privacy, but if the movie was a success and other similar offers began to pour in, she could succumb to the allure of fame and forget all about her idyllic time here making blackberry truffles, painting at Hope House—and walking on the beach with the local barista.
Being a star had to be a power trip of the first order, one that could mess with a person’s head—and priorities.
But if the two of them were meant to be, it would happen.
He had to keep believing that.
After setting her latte in front of her, he slid onto the bench seat on the other side of the small table. Rather than wait for her to lead up to the news, he plunged in. “You decided to take the movie role.”