“I won’t argue with that—but she loves what’s she doing . . . and that’s what counts.”
“Agreed. And you do too. Have you always been in the hospitality or restaurant business?”
“No.” She folded her legs and picked up a broken sand dollar from the beach beside her. Fingered the jagged, battered edge.
Two seagulls swooped low overhead, but she was oblivious to them.
Logan waited a few more seconds in case she decided to offer more.
She didn’t.
And she might bolt if he pushed.
Better move on, much as he’d like to delve deeper into what made his companion tick.
“So in terms of—”
“In my previous—”
As their words overlapped, he closed his mouth.
“Sorry.” She glanced over at him.
“No. Go ahead.”
“I was going to say that in my previous life, I was an elementary school teacher.”
Aha.
That would explain her comfort level around Molly and her adept handling of the milk carton.
But it didn’t explain the reason behind her dramatic career shift.
“An unusual background for a lavender farm and tearoom business.” He kept his manner conversational. “What prompted the switch?”
She scanned the horizon, where a distant boat was silhouetted against the evening sky. “I needed a change of scene. Since I was relocating, I also decided to rethink my career. My mom and I had always talked about opening a tearoom, and years ago we visited a lavender farm together. I thought it would be fun to combine the two. Bayview Lavender Farm was the result.”
“Where was home before you came here?”
“Cincinnati.”
That was a dramatic change of scene.
“How did you end up in Hope Harbor?”
She shrugged. “After I decided to move, I did some traveling on the West Coast and stumbled onto this town. I stopped for tacos at Charley’s, immediately felt at home, discovered there were microclimates here perfect for growing lavender—and the rest is history. So how did you find Hope Harbor? There wasn’t much detail about that in Marci’s article.”
She was done sharing.
And that was okay—for now. She’d told him far more than he’d expected.
Yet questions remained.
Like . . . why had she needed a change of scene?
Who had she left behind?
Why did she keep to herself?
He wasn’t going to get those answers today, however. Best to follow her lead and switch gears.
“After I became Molly’s guardian, it didn’t take me long to realize my lifestyle wasn’t conducive to raising a family. I had a studio apartment, I worked long—and odd—hours, and after living in a small town in Missouri, Molly was bewildered and intimidated by the big city. The longer she was in San Francisco, the quieter she got.”
“It’s not unusual for children to withdraw if their world is disrupted. Either that, or they act out.”
“So I discovered after doing tons of research. I thought a smaller town, a house with a yard, and a job with more regular hours would be better for her.”
“Not to mention a dog.”
He grimaced. “A last-minute addition, the merits of which I’m still debating.”
Jeannette turned her attention to Molly and Toby. “They seem to have bonded.”
“Unlike her and me. She’s been living under my roof for four months, and she talks more to you and Elisa than she does to me.” He tried to keep his inflection neutral, but a tad of discouragement crept in.
“Talking to a peer is natural—and there’s no risk in communicating with me. If I disappeared tomorrow, it would have zero impact on her life. You’re a different story.”
That was a take he hadn’t considered.
“I see your point.”
“You didn’t tell me how you ended up here.”
He pulled up his legs and rested his forearms on his knees. “A coincidence, really. After I decided to change my lifestyle, I emailed a few classmates hoping for some leads. One of them came through. His son had fallen on some rocks and had to get stitches while they were vacationing in Oregon, and the urgent care center here was the closest place that could patch him up.”
“I assume your classmate found out they might be closing.”
“Bingo. The nurse who stitched up his son said the doctor in charge had taken the job temporarily to buy them time to find another director. He passed on the name of the clinic, I talked to them, visited the town, applied, and voila. Here I am.”
“You gave up a lot for Molly.” She cradled the damaged sand dollar in her palm as she studied him. “I’m impressed.”
Heat crept up his neck, and he busied himself gathering up the remains of their dinner. “I didn’t have much choice. I promised my brother I’d take her in if he or Mom weren’t there to raise her.”
“You did way more than that. You changed your whole life.”
“It was a healthy change for me too. I was becoming a workaholic. I needed to get some balance back.”
Silence fell between them, broken only by the boom of the surf crashing against the offshore sea stacks and the plaintive call of the two gulls circling above.
Jeannette hadn’t asked the most obvious question, but she had to be wondering where Molly’s mother was—and he’d promised to tell her the story.
As if she’d read his mind, she sent him a sidelong glance. “Since you’re Molly’s guardian, I assume her mother isn’t in the picture.”
Logan stuffed their trash with more force than necessary into one of the empty bags. “No. She never has been.” This was the ugly part of the story. The part he saw no reason to share with the world.
But Jeannette wasn’t the world.
She was . . .
Frowning, Logan crimped the bag in his fingers.
What was she exactly?
She was too new in his life to be a friend—but she felt like more than a mere acquaintance.
She felt like a woman who had potential to be—
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Jeannette started to rise. “It’s getting late, and—”
“Wait.” He touched her arm. “I said I’d tell you the story, and I will. It’s just that I haven’t shared this with many people.”
Like none.
She hesitated. “I won’t hold you to that promise. I understand about wanting to keep some things private.”
“I appreciate that—but I’d like you to know the history. Please stay.” He didn’t touch her hand, as Molly had when she’d made the same plea—but the temptation to do so was strong.
So strong he gripped the bag tighter to keep his hands out of trouble.
A few beats passed, but at last she settled back onto the blanket.
He exhaled . . . set the bag beside him . . . and dived in. “My brother was a good man, but being a soldier is a lonely, nomadic business. While he was doing some training at Fort Hood, he had a brief liaison with a woman he met in a bar. She ended up getting pregnant—and she did not want the baby. She told my brother she intended to get an abortion, and demanded he pay for it.”
“He obviously convinced her to rethink that decision.”