“I’m parked by the library.” She waved vaguely across the common toward South Main. “I might walk around a bit more—I’ll just be sure to stay in the shade. Maybe I’ll take a look inside the library. I bet it has a great reading room. Did you spend a lot of time there growing up?”
“I wasn’t much of a student.”
She grinned at him. “Had your eyes on the girls instead, didn’t you?”
He smiled, feeling some of his irritation ease. “The library does have a great reading room. I’ll walk over there with you.”
“Great, thanks.”
They took a paved walkway into the sunshine. Gabe noticed perspiration beading on Nadia’ upper lip. “You’re not dressed for the heat,” he said. “Especially since you’re not used to it.”
“No kidding.” She flipped her hair behind her shoulders and shuddered. “I’ll skip the walk and go straight into the library. I hope it’s cooler in there. Isn’t this humidity killing you?”
“It’s like riding a bike. You never really forget. It won’t last, though.”
“Here and then gone. My grandmother used to say that. Damn, Gabe. I’m going to need an inhaler.” She smiled sideways at him. “Not really. I shouldn’t joke about that. My little brother had asthma as a child. He outgrew it, but I remember how awful and scary it was when he had an attack.”
“Is he helping settle your grandmother’s affairs?”
She shook her head. “I’m the executor.”
They came to South Main and crossed to the library, built by the same small-town industrialist and benefactor who’d built the Mill at Moss Hill. His former house, a sprawling Victorian on a side street off South Main, was up for sale—or had been. Mark had mentioned it in a phone call a while back. It could have sold by now.
Gabe stopped at the steps into the library. “Enjoy your visit. You’ll want to be on your way before it gets dark. There aren’t a lot of streetlights out here. You’re not used to driving without streetlights.”
“That’s for sure. At least it doesn’t get dark early this time of year.”
He didn’t argue with her. He started to ask if she had a place to stay tonight but decided that would only risk opening up a fresh can of worms. He couldn’t say for sure what she was thinking. Theirs had always been a friendly but strictly professional relationship. He’d seen her in person perhaps a dozen times since she’d started working with him. She’d always been reliable, professional and very good at what she did. He’d tried to hire her as a senior manager two years ago, but she’d turned him down—because of the husband who’d left her a few months ago. David had wanted her to continue freelancing. Easier, better for him. He’d had the bigger job. He’d been on the move, looking for a company to buy.
Clearly, Nadia was struggling to let go of the life she’d had.
“Enjoy the rest of your stay in New England,” Gabe said.
“I will, thanks,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do for tomorrow—”
“There isn’t.” Too abrupt. He took the edge off his response with a smile. “Thanks for the offer. Take care, okay? Good luck settling your grandmother’s affairs. I know it’s not easy to say goodbye to a loved one.”
“It’s not, and on top of David—” She blew out a breath, then smiled awkwardly. “I’d go back to him in a heartbeat, you know. It’s sick, but I have a feeling Smith’s peach pie will help. I have no regrets. I’m glad to see your hometown. It’s a cute place. I think it’s growing on me.”
“It’s the peach pie. Take care, Nadia.”
“You, too.”
She hesitated, as if she expected him to kiss her on the cheek or take her hand—make some kind of friendly physical gesture. He didn’t, and she turned abruptly and ran up the library steps as if she suddenly realized she was late for something.
Gabe felt uneasy about their conversation, but there wasn’t much more he could do. He headed back across South Main. As he crossed the common, he received a text from his brother: Join us for dinner tonight? Six o’clock, here at the house.
Gabe didn’t hesitate before he responded: Perfect.
Jess promises not to barf.
He grinned at Mark’s text. No barf at dinner would be a very good thing, but how could Jess promise? He typed what he thought was a diplomatic response: I have no say on barf.
Ha, neither do I. She’s feeling better.
That’s what counts.
Olivia and Dylan will be at dinner, too. Bring Felicity.
How to respond to that? Gabe decided to keep it simple and neutral: I’ll let her know.
When he reached his car, he looked across the common toward the library. Nadia was already descending the steps. She hadn’t lasted in the library for a whole ten minutes. Too noisy? Never intended to spend time there?
Gabe shook off his questions. Not his problem. Nadia was a free agent. She hadn’t broken any laws. She didn’t work for him. She could do what she wanted to do. He hoped she’d leave Knights Bridge without bothering anyone else, but it was her call to make.
He got in his car and turned on the engine, taking a moment to collect himself. He felt the temperature drop as the air-conditioning kicked in. Didn’t matter that his father was a great mechanic, he’d always driven beaters, and he hated air-conditioning. It hadn’t been a matter of principle. He just didn’t like it.
Neither had his mother, Gabe remembered. “Makes me cold,” she’d say. “The air doesn’t feel real.”
Gabe laughed, thinking of her with affection, missing her but without the intense pain that had lingered since her death. She’d died with so many unfulfilled dreams. She’d always believed there’d be more time. But she hadn’t been bitter. She’d made the best of the time she’d had, determined not to squander a minute. In her last weeks, she’d loved just to sit on the porch and listen to the birds. “I’m happy here,” she’d tell Gabe. “I
