“I’m fine.” Her face beet-red, Bonnie smiled in embarrassment. “Oh. Mr. Drennan, isn’t it?”
Cassie broke into peals of laughter. “Honestly, Daddy. Every time I bring you here, you barrel into this poor woman. I’m going to have to start leaving you at home before you break her arm or something.”
Paul shot a repressive look at his amused daughter. “Cassie, it isn’t funny. She could have been hurt.”
“Actually, it is kind of funny,” Bonnie said with an understanding smile at the younger woman. “I don’t really walk into every client who comes in. Appearances to the contrary.”
Kinley waved to the departing duo, then turned back to her sister, who had fallen into a chair at the table and covered her face with her hands. Smothering a grin, she asked, “Bon? You okay?”
“I’m mortified,” Bonnie replied, her voice muffled. “Why is it that every time that man comes in I make a fool of myself?”
“He’s only been here twice.”
“And I’ve ploughed into him both times.”
“Actually, I think it was his fault this time. He was looking one direction and walking another.”
Bonnie dropped her hands. “He seems quite nice. Both of them do.”
“They’re great. It’s going to be a lot of fun working with them. Her mother and stepdad are nice, too, from what I recall. Everyone seemed really pleasant together, which is always gratifying from a blended family.”
“So there’s not a stepmom?” Bonnie asked a bit too casually.
Kinley raised an eyebrow. She remembered now that Bonnie had seemed taken with Paul last time she’d literally run into him. It was an unlikely match, what with Paul being quite a bit older and the father of a young woman not many years younger than Bonnie—but who was she to criticize anyone for developing a fascination with a man who was all wrong for her? She just hoped her sister didn’t end up crying into her pillow during unguarded moments in long, lonely nights.
“No,” she said. “As far as I know, there’s no stepmom.”
Bonnie shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“About that wedding shower we have booked for Sunday afternoon…”
An hour later, Kinley was out in the garden with her camera. She wanted a couple of new photos for the website, and the roses were truly beautiful now with the afternoon sun on them. She’d seen a couple of guests strolling along the paths earlier, but she seemed to be the only one out now. She snapped a few shots of the fountain, then moved to the future site of the Meditation Garden, where the yellow roses were in full bloom. Focusing tightly on one perfect blossom, she smiled in delight when a butterfly fluttered into the shot. Unless it had blurred, that should be a nice one. She was no professional photographer, but she enjoyed taking pictures.
She saw something move from the corner of her right eye. Glancing idly that way, she froze when she thought she saw the smiling woman in white again. Just standing there. Smiling at her.
Her fingers went nerveless, so that she almost dropped her camera, but when she whirled to get a better look, no one was there. Just a bush covered in tiny white blooms, the branches rustled by a breeze so faint Kinley didn’t even feel it.
Shaking her head in self-disgust, she wondered if she would ever fully recover from those few crazy days in the spring. She was still jumping at shadows, still waking up sniffling, still battling an emptiness no amount of job success had been able to fill yet. A Dan-shaped hole in her heart, as she thought of it when she allowed herself to draw on dark humor for comfort. She’d get over it. Someday.
It hadn’t been a failure, she assured herself as she had many times before. She couldn’t fail if she’d never really tried…right?
Lifting the camera again, she focused on another flower, then a spreading Japanese maple. The camera still raised, she turned in search of another nice shot—only to find Dan Phelan’s face framed in her viewfinder.
This time she did drop the camera. Had the strap not been looped around her wrist, it would have crashed to the pebbles at her feet, probably breaking the screen.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked again, but unlike the hazy image she’d thought she saw before, Dan was still there.
“You remember that question you asked me?” he said as if it hadn’t been a full month since they’d last seen each other.
“I, uh…” She swallowed hard, working to recover her composure. “I’m sorry, what question?”
“You asked if I’m happy with the way I’m living.”
She recalled that very clearly. It had concluded their conversation at the lookout tower, when everything had changed between them. When he’d decided so suddenly to leave.
Nervously smoothing her hands against her pants, she cleared her throat silently before saying, “Yes. I remember.”