The Memory Keeper: A Heartwarming, Feel-Good Romance(57)

“What’s wrong?” she asked bluntly. She took a step toward him. “You can tell me. We’re friends, remember?” The word “friend” felt odd on her lips, like it didn’t fit who they were.

“I haven’t had a regular dinner since Alison…” he admitted. “And then you.” His eyes met hers again, uncertainty swimming around in them.

“Have you eaten tonight?”

“Not yet.”

“You didn’t eat with Noah?” she wondered aloud.

He shook his head. “Well, I did nip a chicken finger,” he said with a smirk in her direction. “But that’s long gone.”

She grinned at him, thinking. “We should double the recipe then.” She hadn’t planned on eating, but maybe she could get him to open up about his relationship with his son. She flicked on the radio in the corner of the kitchen, turning the volume low, the tunes filtering into the air around them. “Are you free now?”

“I am,” he replied.

“Perfect,” she said. “We could find some matches and light that candle over on the table? That would be nice.”

Liam pulled a lighter from the drawer and went over to the candle.

“How about herbs—got any of those? We need parsley, salt, pepper, and chives if you have them. Oh! And I saw some cream and butter in the fridge. If you have flour and baking powder, we can make a dish that will set your world on fire.”

“What’s the dish?”

“It’s my gran’s famous Buttermilk Chicken Pickin’.”

“Now that sounds like a dinner I’d like to dig into,” Liam said. “The ingredients alone sound terrifyingly delicious.” He handed her a bowl from the cabinet.

“Does your job require so much of your time that you have to work through your meals?” Hannah asked, curious, getting the flour and then measuring out what she needed.

“Yes,” he replied. “My dad always wanted me to do what I love—he told me that all the time. So I’m using my inheritance to build my company. My partner and I started small, but now I want to invest my inheritance money in the business to expand.” He handed her the baking powder as she reached for it.

She tried not to focus on the glaring warning sign—he was building a company that took up so much of his time that he ate at his desk and left his son with a full-time nanny. “What’s the business?” she asked.

“I acquire parcels of land, and either renovate or build large retail and business developments on them, and then sell them. I’ve actually just acquired the vacant shops on the corner of Main Street and Ivy Lane downtown.”

Hannah knew those streets. That was the strip of shops currently blocking The Memory Keeper from the view of Main Street. “Oh, do you know what shops are going up there yet?” she asked. If the right retail came in, people might venture down Ivy Lane and find Gran’s shop.

“I’ve got a company renting that development which plans to bring in a bookstore and a couple of clothing boutiques.”

“Oh, a bookstore would be amazing,” Hannah said.

Liam smiled. “My mother would agree.”

“Yes, right!” Hannah refocused on the task at hand. “We’ve got some biscuits to make.”



The buttery aroma in the kitchen smelled divine, both casseroles now in the oven, baking. The music was playing softly on the radio, the candle flickering between Hannah and Liam at the table.

“So tell me about your job,” Liam said, as he poured Hannah a glass of white wine.

“I’m an art director for a magazine,” she told him.

“I remember you wanting to do something like that when we were kids,” he said. “You were so excited to go off to college. So you must love what you do.” He handed her the glass.

She considered his observation. “Honestly, I used to, but now I’m not so sure. And I’m having some trouble at the moment.”

“What is it?”

She explained the situation with the lost photos. “The title of the spread is ‘From Our Homes to Yours,’ and it was supposed to be a collection of farm life from around the country. I’ve got the articles sitting in my inbox right now, but I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet. I’m hoping they’ll give me some inspiration for a new shoot.”

She considered asking Liam if she could photograph the farmhouse, but decided against bringing it up right now. The last thing she wanted to do was to get caught up in a lengthy conversation about work.

The oven timer went off. “Looks like dinner’s ready,” she said. “I’ll bring it over.”

“I’ve got it,” Liam said. He stood up and grabbed the blue-and-white checkered kitchen towel from the sink, then pulled the casseroles out of the oven, bringing one of them to the table and setting it on a trivet.

“It looks delicious,” she said, peering over it. The vegetables were bubbling up through the browned biscuits that had formed a fluffy crust on top, more vegetables peeking out from the edges.

Liam dished out the casserole, dropping a large, piping hot square in the center of the plate and handing it to her. Then he filled another plate for himself.

“How’s your grandmother?” he asked.

“She’s doing okay, I guess.” Hannah set her napkin in her lap. “I hate that she might be spending her final days in the hospital. Life can be so fragile; it can change in an instant. It makes me want to seize the moment, any chance I get.”