“No.” Her stomach twisted. “My doctors don’t think I should go. So I’m gonna have to live it up here,” she said. “I had cut back on the partying, but now that I have an empty nest and I’m tied to the area...”
His face got stern and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“Okay, Dad,” she said.
“I mean it. You have so much to live for.”
“So much living to do, too.” She met his intense gaze, and suddenly she wasn’t sure exactly what they were talking about.
The moment lasted longer than it should have, but she couldn’t look away.
His gaze flickered down to her lips, and then he sat up straighter and rubbed his hands together. “Well. We should talk about the program Mary was proposing. Are you on board for it?”
“I told her I’d do it.”
“Then we should figure out first steps.” His voice sounded tight, and when he got up and grabbed a pad and pencil, he dropped it twice. “So. Look for properties?”
So. Calm, collected Paul Thompson wasn’t always in perfect control of himself. She liked that. And she couldn’t resist teasing him. “I’d love to go house hunting with you.”
He glared at her. “Why do I have the feeling you’re playing with me?”
“Would that be so terrible?” Her breathing hitched a little, but that was fine with her. Much more fun than thinking about the hard stuff.
He frowned, but he also moved closer. “Stop it.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, which only emphasized their stormy expression.
Her heart rate accelerated. “Stop what?”
“Stop flirting. Or I’ll...”
“You’ll what?” She raised an eyebrow.
He leaned on the table in front of her, and suddenly their faces were just inches apart. “You know exactly what I’ll do,” he said.
She sucked in a breath, staring at him.
“But it wouldn’t be wise, and you know that, too.”
“Right.” She scooted her chair back a little then, flustered.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” came a small, sleepy voice.
Amber didn’t know how to feel about Davey’s untimely appearance, but she should be grateful. The secrets she was carrying nixed the chance of any relationship between her and his way-too-appealing father.
AS MARY APPROACHED the first potential site for the new program she wanted to fund, her steps slowed. Would this be the right spot for victims of violent crime to heal?
Three doors down from the Healing Heroes cottage, this place was a little bigger and had neighbors on each side. That was good. People who were still suffering fear wouldn’t want to be off on a lonely spit of land somewhere.
Importantly, it was pretty and appealing. Even someone in the depths of despair couldn’t help but be charmed by the yellow Cape Cod–style home with a picket fence surrounding the yard and a front porch that would encourage residents to sit outside and meet people, become part of the neighborhood.
Looking around the side of the cottage, she could see that a decent-sized yard led down to the bay, and that was good, too. Who could look out at the deep blue water, painted with whitecaps on this breezy, blue-sky day, and not get at least a little bit of healing?
Gulls flew overhead, along with a V of geese. The birds honked and cried, and some neighborhood kids shouted and ran in the backyard next door, their moms chatting on the back step. The occasional car drove by. It was a quiet place, away from the noise and hectic sounds of the city. Again, that was healing. Victims needed to be able to hear their own thoughts if they were to find a way forward.
So maybe this would be the place. She hoped so. She had to get this project off the ground before Imogene decided to come back and make demands.
Amber and Paul appeared from behind the cottage. They walked oddly far apart. Mary knew what that meant, and it made her smile. Paradoxically, they were far apart because they were drawn to each other. She’d experienced the same a few times. What was it with the human resistance to connection?
They saw her and waved, and she walked up the little flagstone path to meet them. They exchanged greetings and then started immediately to discuss the property.
“It’s pretty secure, or it can be made so,” Paul said. “That is going to be the biggest priority.”
Mary glanced at Amber, who was frowning a little. “The biggest priority is healing, I would think,” Amber said.
“Which involves safety and security first,” Paul said firmly. They glared at each other, and then simultaneously looked away. Interesting.
As they walked inside, Mary observed the outdated wallpaper, the stained carpets, the windows that rattled in the breeze. But they were big windows looking out on the bay, and that was important. They could easily be restored to look more modern and hold out the weather. The decor could be refreshed, too. Mary would enjoy doing that. She got a little burst of excitement at the thought.
Paul moved ahead and started examining the window casings while Amber and Mary strolled through the old-fashioned kitchen. It was small, but a window over the sink looked out onto the backyard and the bay. There was a tiny table and an overhead fan. “It’ll need some updating,” Mary said as she studied the old gas stove.
“Right, but you don’t want to lose the charm.” Amber leaned back against the counter. “What’s your interest in helping crime victims, anyway?”
That was exactly what Mary didn’t want to discuss. There was no need to dig up all that old stuff—the real pain, but also the ugly, hurtful rumors and accusations. “It’s a cause I’ve always believed in,” she said, waving her hand. “It’s time to do something about it. Now or never.”
“Uh-huh.” Amber raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her further.
“Let’s look upstairs,” Mary said, and Amber led the way. There were three bedrooms, definitely in need of some decorating help, but structurally sound. Space for a family or visiting friends, which was nice. Being around others was key to
