* * *
Connor took hope from the fact that his impromptu meal with Heather had gone well. He’d actually done exactly as he’d told her, calculated his arrival to make sure they’d meet on neutral turf. There’d been a small risk, he supposed, that she wouldn’t behave true to form, but Heather had always been a creature of habit. It was another of the things he loved about her. He usually knew exactly what to expect, which was just one reason why her taking off on him had shaken him so badly. He hadn’t anticipated it.
“Feel like a walk?” he asked when they’d finished eating.
She studied him as if seeking an ulterior motive. “You should probably take Mick home and get him into bed.”
“He’ll fall asleep while we’re walking. Remember how we’d take him out and walk around the block when he wouldn’t stop crying? It always worked like a charm.”
Heather finally nodded with undisguised reluctance. “Okay, just a short walk. I’m beat.”
At the end of the block, they crossed Shore Road, then took the sidewalk that ran along the bay. It was balmy for late April, and the pleasant night had drawn a crowd of people for an evening stroll. Connor recognized several locals, even though he’d been mostly away for years now. Surprisingly, Heather seemed to know as many people as he did, possibly more. She greeted many of them by name.
“You astonish me,” he said. “You’ve only been here a few months and you already know half the people in town.”
“It comes from having a store. You know how curious everyone in this town is when a new business opens. They all stop by to check it out, even if the thought of owning or making a quilt never crossed their minds. Add in my connection to the O’Briens and they can’t seem to stay away. I’m sure they’re all dying to ask questions about the two of us, but most have been too polite to do it.”
“Most?” he said. “Have some been hassling you?”
“Not really. Some people just can’t seem to censor their words.”
“How’ve you handled that?”
“With the truth—that you and I have a son together. There’s no point in denying that.”
“People aren’t judging you, are they?” He was prepared to leap to her defense, if need be.
“No, everyone’s been wonderful, Connor. Really.”
He studied her intently. “Then you’re happy with your decision to move here?”
She turned to him, her eyes shining. “I really am, Connor. I already feel so at home here, and your family has been remarkable, your mom especially.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
Her gaze narrowed. “That didn’t sound particularly convincing. Did you want me to be unhappy?”
“Of course not. I guess on some level I was hoping that if this didn’t work out, you’d consider coming back to Baltimore.”
“To what?” she asked pointedly.
“Our life,” he said, unable to keep an impatient note out of his voice. “The terrific, perfect life we had not so very long ago.”
“It was terrific,” she admitted, “but hardly perfect, Connor. At least not from my point of view.”
“And living here, away from your son’s father, being completely on your own, scrimping to make ends meet, that’s better?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” she said flatly.
“I see.”
She regarded him with a penetrating look. “Do you really? Do you actually get that relying on myself is better than relying on someone who could bail the first time things get tough?”
“Have I ever once bailed on you when things got rocky?” he demanded, offended that she would think he might.
“No, but—”
He cut her off. “‘No’ is answer enough. I think my actions speak for themselves, Heather. I’ve proved my commitment to you time and again. A piece of paper wouldn’t make that bond one bit stronger or guarantee I’d behave differently at some crisis that may or may not come along in the future.”
Her expression turned resigned. “Here we go. It’s the same old song and dance, Connor. You have your point of view, I have mine. We’re never going to agree, and we need to stop trying. It just ends in frustration for both of us.”
“Not a chance,” he said flatly. “We have a son. I love you. I’ll never stop trying.”
“But don’t you see? You’ll be wasting your breath. It’s time to move on.” She reached up and touched his cheek, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m going home, Connor. You need to do the same.”
Before he could react, she cut across the street and disappeared into the alley behind the stores. He could have taken little Mick and followed, but to what end? She wasn’t going to change her mind just because he wanted her to. Pressure wouldn’t help. Sadly, he realized, neither would time. Which left him at a complete loss. Capitulation seemed to be the only option, and for him, it remained unacceptable.
CHAPTER 10
On Saturday morning, Heather looked up at the sound of the shop’s bell and was surprised to see Abby.
“What brings you by?” she asked. “I didn’t think you had two spare minutes in your life these days, much less enough time to take up quilting.”
Abby shuddered at the suggestion. “Believe me, I don’t. Besides, I’m hopeless when it comes to any kind of handiwork. Gram tried to teach me to embroider a sampler when I was around seven. Not only did I bleed all over it, but almost every stitch turned out to be some kind of big, ugly knot. There was an equally disastrous attempt at crocheting. After that, she gave up. She had slightly better lucky with Bree, but Jess couldn’t sit still long enough. We were mostly huge disappointments to her.”
Heather laughed. “Then I go back to my original question. Since you’re not here for quilting class,
