Expecting a Miracle

“Danielson & Marx.” He whistled low. “That’s the big-time. Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” she replied. She hadn’t shared that truth with anyone, even her closest friend. When others asked the same question, she told them how content she was and how busy with committees and her crowded social calendar. It was easy to tell Gavin the truth, so she continued. “I especially miss the creative process. It’s not easy to sell consumers on an idea or product with only a few words or images.”

“I’m betting you were good at it.”

She smiled, thinking of the four Addys she’d racked up during her relatively brief career, and admitted, “I had my moments.”

He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his cargo shorts. “So, why did you quit?”

She bent down and plucked a blade of grass. As she tore it into small pieces, she said, “Well, I was getting married and…and…”

She released the last shred of grass and dusted her hands together without having completed the thought.

“Priorities changed,” he allowed.

Lauren nodded, although she could now admit she hadn’t been the one to change them. She’d gone along to get along. She wasn’t proud of that now.

“Maybe you’ll get back into it at some point,” he said. “With a big agency like that on your résumé not many places would turn you away.”

“I could do that.” Her portfolio was anything but mediocre. Lauren had been good at her job and had taken pride in her work.

“But?” He smiled, as if he knew she had something else on her mind.

Once again she found herself baring her soul. “What I’d really like to do is start my own agency, something that specializes in causes rather than goods and services.”

“There’s not a lot of money in that, but then you probably know that. It sounds like you’ve given the idea some thought.”

“I have. But it needs more,” she conceded. The idea had been back-burnered for a couple of years now, growing stale as Lauren had grown more complacent.

“This is a good place for thinking. And when you’re ready to start out, I’m sure you have enough contacts you could probably pull that off,” he replied.

She’d almost expected him to shoot down the idea. She had little doubt her parents and Holden would have, which perhaps explained why she’d never shared her dream with any of them.

“Thanks.”

Gavin’s brow crinkled. “For what?”

“For…for letting me paint the cottage.”

CHAPTER FOUR

LAUREN had never been in a hardware store. Neither her father nor her husband was the sort to attempt any kind of home repair. The one in Gabriel’s Crossing, however, reminded her of something from a movie, complete with a couple of older men sitting on a bench in the shade of the porch. If they’d been chewing tobacco or whittling sticks she wouldn’t have been surprised. It turned out they were eating sunflower seeds and helping each other with a crossword puzzle. One of them apparently was the owner. He stood and shook Gavin’s hand.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally given up on that old house and moved back to the city.” His eyes crinkled with a grin after he said it.

“Never. I finish what I start, Pat. Besides, someone has to keep you in business.”

“And don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”

Gavin turned toward Lauren then. “Lauren, this is Pat Montgomery.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Montgomery.”

“No need to stand on formality here. It’s just Pat.” He divided a speculative look between them. “So, will you be visiting the area for long?”

“Actually, I’m not visiting. I’ve moved here…at least temporarily.”

“Lauren’s renting the cottage on my property,” Gavin supplied.

“You don’t say.” The man’s woolly eyebrows inched up, and his mouth twitched with a grin.

Lauren felt her cheeks grow warm. She had a good idea what he was thinking, and her pregnancy hadn’t become obvious yet. Thankfully Gavin came to her rescue.

“Lauren was looking for a retreat from the city. Her husband will be joining her.”

She’d left Gavin with that impression, she realized. Lying wasn’t in her nature, nor was omitting the truth. Still, it seemed the wisest course of action at the moment. So, when Pat said, “I’m sure you and your husband will enjoy Gabriel’s Crossing. It’s a nice place to get away to,” she replied, “Yes, I’m sure we’ll enjoy it here.”

“Paint’s down that first aisle,” Gavin said, pointing to the far side of the store. “I’ll load up the two-by-fours while you make your selection.”

“Okay.”

About twenty minutes passed as she pored over paint chips. Lauren knew the exact moment Gavin came up behind her. She didn’t hear his footsteps. Rather, she smelled soap. And though she wasn’t quite sure how, she felt his presence. She was probably being silly, but something about him was welcoming, comforting. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider the other descriptions that came to mind.

“I’ve narrowed it down to these two shades,” she said before turning. “I’ve read that green is a relaxing color, perfect for promoting a peaceful night’s sleep.”

“One of the walls in my bedroom is red. Well, officially, crimson. I wonder what that’s supposed to promote.” Humor danced in his eyes. Humor and something else.

She swallowed the other completely inappropriate answers that came to mind and said, “Insomnia.”

Gavin laughed and pushed a hand through his hair, leaving it in its usual disarray. “I don’t know about that. I sleep like a baby.”

The mention of the word baby helped banish the last of Lauren’s wayward thoughts. “Sea foam.” She held the paint chip out in front of her as if she’d just drawn a dagger. “What do you think?”

He gave the square of color his full attention. “It’s tranquil.”

“Perfect.”

His fingers brushed hers as he took the paint chip. “I’ll have Pat mix up a couple gallons and we can be on our way.”

“Don’t forget, I owe you an ice cream cone.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

As she watched him walk away, Lauren was left with the impression that Gavin O’Donnell was the sort of man who never forgot anything.

“This is a popular spot today,” Gavin said when they arrived at the ice cream shop.

The place was small with no inside seating. People were lined up six deep in front of the two order windows, and every available picnic table was filled. Children of varying sizes, apparently immune to the heat index, ran around on the lawn in an impromptu game of tag.