The Last Boyfriend

should call Franny in.”

“Wouldn’t hurt. Gotta go.”

“Thanks for the face. Really.”

*   *   *

By one she was too busy to worry about her shirt, the sauce on her apron, or if she’d chewed her lipstick off. She focused on pizzas, making pie after pie, and thanked God for Franny, who’d come in at her call and dealt with pasta orders, salads.

She worked her way through it; in fact did two quick interviews while she stood at her work counter. Even tossed dough on request for a camera.

And she thought of the lovely perk of having her place on a D.C. station for even two or three seconds.

At three, with the madness over, Avery took her first break by collapsing in the empty back dining room with a bottle of Gatorade.

She waved weakly when Clare came in. “I think I used up all my electrolytes. Did they come to your place?”

Clare held up the go-cup from her bookstore. “Skinny latte with a double shot of espresso.”

“That answers that.”

“It was good though. Good for Turn The Page, for the inn, for the town, I think.”

“I bet Hope didn’t have to rush down to TTP and do your makeup.”

“No, but I don’t work in a hot kitchen all day.”

“Good answer.”

“The reporter from Hagerstown Magazine wants to pitch a follow-up, or a related story to her editor. You, me, Hope.”

“Us? What kind of story?”

“Three women, three friends. One who runs a bookstore, one who runs a restaurant—soon two—and one who runs the B&B.”

“I don’t want to wear a saucy apron.”

“Saucy as in sauce, or saucy as in French maid?”

“Guess.” Smirking, Avery pointed at her stained apron. “We’d have more warning, right? Not have a four- minute-from-naked-face-to-camera-face deal again.”

“Much more. If it flies, we’d coordinate the day and time. It’d be good promotion for all of us. Still, I don’t know how Hope does it. She walked one of the reporters down to the bookstore. She looked—”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect. And relaxed. I can’t wait to see how the whole thing comes out on the news tonight, then in the paper. Beckett’s picking up the kids from school—or has by now. He said they needed some man time.”

Everything in Avery went soft. “You struck gold there, Clare.”

“A mountain of it. I was also ordered to pick up Vesta spaghetti and meatballs. Manly portions.”

“We can help you with that.”

“I’m going to need help with more soon. After the opening, I’ll only have two months before the wedding. I know we’re not doing a huge bash, but . . .”

“Everything has to be wonderful.”

“Starting with the dresses. Mine, yours, and Hope’s.”

“We’ll take a day. Name it. I’ll make it work.”

“Thursdays are best right now—as soon after the opening as possible. I need to check with Hope. I could shift some things and do a Wednesday if that’s better.”

“Either way I can make it work.”

“I’ve talked with Carol at Mountainside about the flowers. That’s pretty much set. I haven’t talked to you about food.”

“Why don’t you leave that to me? I’ll put something together, then you can adjust, change, eliminate, or add. I can give you the launch pad.”

“That takes a weight off. Thanks.” Leaning forward, smile brilliant, Clare took her friend’s hands. “I’m getting married, Avery.”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“Everything’s moving so fast. Do you remember when they first started work on the inn? It seemed like forever. Now it’s finished, about to open. I’m getting married, Beckett’s finishing the house. I’m looking at tile and faucets and lighting fixtures.”

“Are you nervous?”

“No, not nervous. A little overwhelmed here and there. Marriage, a new home, and if things go as we hope, a new baby on the way in a few months.”

“It all looks really good on you.”

“It all feels really good. Are you nervous?”

“About what?”

“You and Owen.”

“No. No, not exactly nervous. But maybe, yeah, maybe a little overwhelmed here and there, too. One minute I think, sure, of course. Then the next it’s, what? Where did this come from, and what do I do with it?”

She propped her chin on her fist. “Then it’s back to of course. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and now we’re looking at each other in a new way. That’s a little overwhelming. But maybe that’s good. Otherwise, maybe it would be too easy for that ‘of course’ to turn into ‘so what?’”

Before she sat back again, Clare gave Avery’s hand a quick squeeze. “You think you’re careless with people. I don’t know where that comes from. I’ve known you a long time, and you’ve never been careless with people. We were friendly in high school. We ran in different crowds even though we co-captained the cheerleading squad.”

“Go Warriors.”

“Go Warriors. But when I came back home after Clint was killed, you were right there for me. Right there, Avery. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I still don’t.”

This time Avery took Clare’s hand. “You’ll never have to find out.”

“The same to you. You’re not the so what type, Avery. Not with people. I’ve got to get back. I’ll run up for the spaghetti and manly meatballs around five.”

“I’ll send it down, save you a trip.”

Avery sat alone for another moment. She’d had enough of a break, all around, she decided. And enough worrying about what might be later rather than enjoying what was now.

She pulled out her phone, texted Owen.

Off in an hour. Want to come over, share a bottle of wine and a large pie upstairs?

She finished off her drink, rolled her tired shoulders. Then smiled when he texted back.

Knocking off shortly, having a beer with Ry at your place. I’ll walk you home.

“Yeah, you walk me home, Owen. That’s what a good boyfriend does.”

She got up, did a little dance in place, then went back to work.

Chapter Thirteen

From the bitterly cold morning of the opening of Inn BoonsBoro to the teeth-chattering afternoon, Avery calculated she had run twenty miles just dashing back and forth across Main Street.

She wouldn’t have missed a single yard.

Throughout the day Hope and Carolee polished and primped the inn until every inch gleamed. Each time