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Authors: Belleporte Summer
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more if she’d said she was taking up residence in a bordello. “That’s crazy,” Nan finally managed to say. “You need to be here, close to family. You’re…you’re an old woman.”
Katherine smiled acerbically. “Thank you for that timely reminder. It’s precisely because I’m an old woman that I’m doing exactly what I want to do for a change. Living my life, for as long as I can.”
“But Summer Haven?”
“Why not Summer Haven? My happiest, most productive days have been spent there. And you don’t have to worry about a thing. Greta is moving with me, and your son Jay’s nice young friend Ben Nolan is helping me with the financial arrangements for transferring my bank accounts and that sort of thing.” She rose from her chair and joined Nan on the bed. “Please.” She picked up both her daughter’s hands and clasped them firmly. “I’m not crazy. I’m more alive than I’ve been in a long time.” She sought her daughter’s eyes. “I need this time in Belleporte. And I need you to understand.” Katherine saw the flicker of pain in Nan’s eyes and knew that she, too, was remembering. “The house here goes on the market next week.”
“There’s no talking you out of this?”
“No possibility at all.”
Nan studied her mother, as if hoping to find a crack in her determination. Finally she slumped and merely said, “I’ll miss you so much.”
Katherine embraced her firstborn. “I’ll miss you, too, but I’m hoping you, John and Jay will be frequent visitors.”
“Just like always,” Nan whispered against her mother’s ear.
In her heart, though, Katherine knew nothing was going to be just like always. That was the exciting part. How many women her age seized the opportunity for a new beginning?
A FTER WEEKS OF FOG , bone-chilling temperatures and occasional snow, March blew in like an obsessed hausfrau—sweeping the brilliant sky clear of clouds and scrubbing the trees clean of dead leaves. Invigorating, Laurel thought as she walked briskly along the windswept beach. She inhaled deeply, then spread her arms and ran for a hundred yards or so. She’d been cooped up far too long, even though progress on The Gift Horse kept her energized. Arlo was nearly finished with the modifications to the downstairs, and the painters should wind up their work within the week. Then the fun would begin—stocking the shelves.
In the last few days, shipments of merchandise had started to arrive. Opening the boxes, she’d felt like a pampered child at Christmas. So many beautiful things. She hoped her customers would think so, too.
Ads had been placed in the Michigan tourism guidebook, as well as in the regional newspapers. She had established her account with major credit card providers and, with Brian Nolan’s help, secured a tax identification number and set up her bookkeeping system.
Brian didn’t fit the stereotype of an accountant. On first acquaintance, he seemed more fun-loving than serious. But as soon as he started to work for her, he became all business. He was already worth his retainer in what he’d saved her in time and expense.
Ben had been by several times after the Twelfth Night party to check on the progress Arlo was making, but he’d never once come by himself. Nor had she experienced anything like the response he’d given her that night on the beach when they had kissed, or the look he’d given her on Twelfth Night. Had she imagined the whole attraction thing?
She had to face facts. Ellen was the most likely explanation for his keeping a polite distance.
Laurel slowed, then stood panting on the beach, letting the fine, cold mist off the breaking waves bedew her face. She’d been naive not to expect a handsome man like Ben to be spoken for. It made sense. But why had he kissed her? That part didn’t make sense. She should know better than to get her hopes up where a man was concerned. Had her experience with Curt taught her nothing?
She couldn’t really
Katherine smiled acerbically. “Thank you for that timely reminder. It’s precisely because I’m an old woman that I’m doing exactly what I want to do for a change. Living my life, for as long as I can.”
“But Summer Haven?”
“Why not Summer Haven? My happiest, most productive days have been spent there. And you don’t have to worry about a thing. Greta is moving with me, and your son Jay’s nice young friend Ben Nolan is helping me with the financial arrangements for transferring my bank accounts and that sort of thing.” She rose from her chair and joined Nan on the bed. “Please.” She picked up both her daughter’s hands and clasped them firmly. “I’m not crazy. I’m more alive than I’ve been in a long time.” She sought her daughter’s eyes. “I need this time in Belleporte. And I need you to understand.” Katherine saw the flicker of pain in Nan’s eyes and knew that she, too, was remembering. “The house here goes on the market next week.”
“There’s no talking you out of this?”
“No possibility at all.”
Nan studied her mother, as if hoping to find a crack in her determination. Finally she slumped and merely said, “I’ll miss you so much.”
Katherine embraced her firstborn. “I’ll miss you, too, but I’m hoping you, John and Jay will be frequent visitors.”
“Just like always,” Nan whispered against her mother’s ear.
In her heart, though, Katherine knew nothing was going to be just like always. That was the exciting part. How many women her age seized the opportunity for a new beginning?
A FTER WEEKS OF FOG , bone-chilling temperatures and occasional snow, March blew in like an obsessed hausfrau—sweeping the brilliant sky clear of clouds and scrubbing the trees clean of dead leaves. Invigorating, Laurel thought as she walked briskly along the windswept beach. She inhaled deeply, then spread her arms and ran for a hundred yards or so. She’d been cooped up far too long, even though progress on The Gift Horse kept her energized. Arlo was nearly finished with the modifications to the downstairs, and the painters should wind up their work within the week. Then the fun would begin—stocking the shelves.
In the last few days, shipments of merchandise had started to arrive. Opening the boxes, she’d felt like a pampered child at Christmas. So many beautiful things. She hoped her customers would think so, too.
Ads had been placed in the Michigan tourism guidebook, as well as in the regional newspapers. She had established her account with major credit card providers and, with Brian Nolan’s help, secured a tax identification number and set up her bookkeeping system.
Brian didn’t fit the stereotype of an accountant. On first acquaintance, he seemed more fun-loving than serious. But as soon as he started to work for her, he became all business. He was already worth his retainer in what he’d saved her in time and expense.
Ben had been by several times after the Twelfth Night party to check on the progress Arlo was making, but he’d never once come by himself. Nor had she experienced anything like the response he’d given her that night on the beach when they had kissed, or the look he’d given her on Twelfth Night. Had she imagined the whole attraction thing?
She had to face facts. Ellen was the most likely explanation for his keeping a polite distance.
Laurel slowed, then stood panting on the beach, letting the fine, cold mist off the breaking waves bedew her face. She’d been naive not to expect a handsome man like Ben to be spoken for. It made sense. But why had he kissed her? That part didn’t make sense. She should know better than to get her hopes up where a man was concerned. Had her experience with Curt taught her nothing?
She couldn’t really
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