Angel's Rest(27)

She understood keeping the plan under wraps until his design was complete and the concept ready to present. Asking him to work on-site rather than up at Eagle’s Way made sense, too. The more he interacted with townspeople the better he would understand the culture of Eternity Springs. That could have a positive influence on his work—or at least help avoid unforeseen problems.

His demands were more difficult to understand. Gabe Callahan agreed to design the landscape plan as long as he was allowed to lead the work crew doing renovations on the house, too. He wanted physical labor, all the brownies he could eat, and a home other than his own for the boxer. Plus he wanted Sage to create a work of art of her choice for Eagle’s Way.

That last request had caused Nic to suffer a brief and shameful bout of jealousy. After all, she’d “not dated” Gabe first. But something had passed between those two up on Murphy Mountain that day. They’d connected in some intangible way, and Nic had felt like a third wheel.

She talked about her reaction with her aunt when she and Nic’s mom visited for Thanksgiving. After dinner, while her mom took a nap, Nic and Aunt Janice bundled up and headed outside to walk off their meal. When Janice asked Nic about her love life, Nic spilled the beans about the new man in town.

“At least I had the good sense to keep my reaction—and face it, my attraction to Gabe Callahan—to myself,” she said as they walked briskly down Aspen Street headed toward the lake. “I know I’m oversensitive, projecting my own past experience into current events. Gabe isn’t my husband, Sage isn’t my business partner, and I’m not going to walk into my own home and discover the two in the midst of betraying me.”

“Greg Sullivan better hope he never crosses my path,” Aunt Janice declared. “I’ll take a tire iron to him.”

Nic grinned. That was no idle talk. Aunt Janice would do it.

“It’s been four years, and I still have moments where the memories catch me off guard. I guess it’s only natural that I’m more wary when it comes to men.”

“Between your skunk of a father and snake of a husband, you’ve had some bad breaks. You need to find a man like your uncle David.” Janice smiled wistfully and glanced toward the hill to the north, where her husband rested in Eternity Springs Cemetery.

“Don’t I wish,” Nic agreed. “Problem is, men like that are hard to find.”

“You just have to know where to look.” Janice shot her a sidelong look and said, “Your mom can tell you that.”

Nic stopped dead in her tracks. “Mom?”

“Yep.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“Nope. He’s a widower she met on our trip to Italy. He lives in Miami and they see each other quite a bit. I think it’s serious.”

Nic was thrilled for her mom, yet her feelings were hurt. “Why hasn’t she told me about him?”

Janice grabbed Nic’s hand and squeezed it. “She’s afraid. She loved your father deeply whether he deserved it or not.”

“Not.”

“Trust is a real issue with her as a result. She’ll tell you about Alan—that’s his name, Alan Parks—when she’s more secure in the relationship. I thought it best to give you a heads-up.”

Nic understood about trust. It was one of her bugaboos, too—as her reaction to Sage and Gabe’s interaction proved. “I’m glad for her, Aunt Janice. Shocked, though. It’s been such a long time since Bryce Randall walked out on us. She said she’d never love again, and I believed her. I’m shocked she let this Alan Parks get close.”

“He was sneaky about it. I like the man.” It had begun to snow, and Janice flipped the hood up on her coat and suggested they turn around. “My blood has gotten thin while living in Florida. So, what about you, honey? Do you see yourself falling in love again? Maybe with this hunky Callahan guy?”

“I admit I thought about it, but I don’t think Gabe is the guy. It appears that the walls around his heart are higher and thicker than mine. I do hope I’ll fall in love again someday, though. I want to.”

Nic tilted her face toward the sky, felt the cold kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks, and smiled. “Bryce P. Randall III and Greg Sullivan played havoc on my past; I don’t want to give them the power to ruin my future.”

“You go, girl. I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve worried about you, you know. When you moved here as a girl, you were like a young Hester Prynne wearing a scarlet I-for-illegitimate on your shirt. I don’t know that your mother ever realized how deeply affected you were by the fact your mother wasn’t married to your father, but David and I saw it.”