But scarce as evidence of God’s presence in his life had been of late, it was hard to dredge up much hope that the Almighty would grace his life with a miracle anytime in the near future.
21
“That was fantastic, as usual, Jeannette.” Marci laid her napkin beside her plate in the Bayview Lavender Farm tearoom.
“I agree. Every bite was delicious—even if I’ll have to supplement it later with a burger.” Her husband grinned and took the bill off the silver tray Jeannette set on the table.
“Ben!” Marci sent him a horrified look.
Jeannette smiled. “Trust me—I hear that from most of the male customers.”
“Do you get many men in here?” Ben nabbed a rogue raspberry on his plate.
“No. Luis comes with Eleanor on occasion, and my neighbor brought his niece.”
“Logan came to tea?” Marci gaped at her.
“Yes.” Now why had she shared that? Better add a caveat or the Herald editor might get the wrong idea. “It was a treat for Molly. Little girls like tea parties.”
“Big girls do too.” Marci sipped from her china cup. “So how is Logan? I don’t see him much around town.”
“I don’t see him often either.”
“I’m surprised, you being neighbors and all.”
“He’s probably busy with that niece of his, not to mention his new job.” Ben extracted his credit card from his wallet and set it on the tray. “We were lucky to get someone of his caliber at the urgent care center. I couldn’t have held on to both jobs much longer, with the Coos Bay practice mushrooming.”
“I think it was providential.” Marci rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “So many positive things have happened because he came.”
“Like what?” Ben took a final sip of tea.
“He saved the clinic . . . gave Mariam Shabo a job . . . tapped into Thomma’s magic touch with dogs—and the word is spreading about that, let me tell you . . . provided a companion for darling Elisa, who needed a friend . . . shall I continue?”
“No.” Ben set his napkin on the table, chuckling. “We get the picture. In case you didn’t realize it, Jeannette, my wife always sees the bright side of everything.”
“Are you complaining?” A dimple appeared in Marci’s cheek.
“Not in the least.” He took her hand, tenderness softening his features. “Have I told you lately that you’re the sunshine of my life?”
“Yes—but I never get tired of hearing it.”
Jeannette took a discreet step back. “Thank you both for coming today, and enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
“We will.” Marci’s attention remained fixed on her new husband.
Jeannette retreated, checking on the newlyweds over her shoulder.
They were both still focused on each other, oblivious to the world around them.
It must be incredible to share a love like that.
Also scary.
Because if you loved, you could lose—as she well knew.
The Shabos would attest to that truth too. From what she could tell, Thomma might never get over the tragedy that had robbed him of most of his family. That could be the reason he was withholding affection from his daughter. Experience too much pain, and self-protection mechanisms kicked in.
But her heart ached for Elisa, who watched her father with such longing and confusion during every tutoring session.
Dwelling on troubling subjects while she had a tea to wrap up, however, wasn’t productive.
She continued to the next table, forcibly redirecting her thoughts to the tasks ahead—settling the bills, seeing all her guests out, and feeding Button, who would be more than ready for his next meal.
A smile tickled her lips as she finished distributing the bills. The kitty was growing fast. Tomorrow she’d add solid food to the mix. Before long, he’d be ready for adoption.
And then he’d be gone.
Her mouth flattened.
Hard as she’d tried to keep her distance from the tiny fluff ball, he’d managed to worm his way into her affections with his soft, contented purrs . . . those big blue-gray eyes that watched her every move . . . and his trusting snuggle into the blanket after she settled him on her lap for feedings.
But that didn’t mean she was going adopt him, as Molly had suggested.
Instead, she would cut the ties—and the sooner the better. From now on, she’d approach the kitten’s care as she had in the beginning—as a chore on her to-do list, nothing more.
It took another half hour for the last dawdling group to depart, but as soon as they did she locked the door, did some preliminary cleanup, and headed back to the house to change. Once she fed Button, she’d finish tidying up, reset the tables for tomorrow, and prepare the last-minute menu items that were best served fresh.
Ten minutes later, her elegant tea attire exchanged for jeans and a sweatshirt, she entered the kitchen and set about mixing the kitten’s formula.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Button. It won’t take long to warm this up.”
After she set the bottle in a small pot of hot water, she replayed the messages on her answering machine. One cancellation for tomorrow, party of two, but otherwise a full house.
Business was good.
Today had also been good. The new lavender and goat cheese croustades she’d introduced to her tea menu had gotten rave comments, she was off the hook about offering the Shabos a place to stay now that they were back in their apartment, and the high school students who’d helped her with the lavender harvest last summer had signed on for another season.
Everything was going as well as possible in her life.
She tested the formula on her wrist.
Perfect.
“All ready, Button. I know you’re hungry.”
She set the bottle on the table and crossed to the box in the corner.
The little guy was sleeping.
Odd.
Usually when she bent down to pick him up for a feeding, he was wide awake and raring to go.
“Hey.” She touched his head. “Wake up, buddy.”
Nothing.
A tiny twinge of alarm radiated through her.
“Button?” She jostled him gently.
Nothing.
Pulse accelerating, she pushed aside the folds of the blanket he’d burrowed into.
He didn’t react.
In fact—he didn’t move a muscle.
That’s when she knew.
Button wasn’t sleeping.
He was gone.
Someone was sobbing in Jeannette’s kitchen.
And given her solitary lifestyle—along with the absence of visitors other than her tea customers—it had to be her.
Logan hesitated at the back door. It had seemed like an inspired idea to pick up two Sweet Dreams cinnamon rolls while he’d been in town dropping Molly off for her sleepover with Elisa, then mosey over here and ask Jeannette to share them.
But surprising her in the midst of a meltdown could backfire.
On the other hand . . . if a woman who always maintained firm control over her emotions was shedding tears, there had to be a serious reason for it.
Maybe she’d welcome a shoulder to cry on.
Or not.
As he debated his options, another heart-wrenching sob tore at his gut.