And as the shop emptied, it also looked like the two of them were going to be alone for a bit. Quinn gave the wall clock a covert glance.

“Still fifteen minutes until Annie is due to fetch me.”

“I wasn’t—”

Grandma smiled tightly. “Don’t feed me a line, dearie. I can smell your fear a mile away.”

“Fear?” Quinn lifted her chin. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“Everyone is.”

Quinn laughed despite herself. “Now I know where Wilder gets it from.”

“Gets what?”

Quinn arched a brow. “That tough-as-nails routine.”

“Hrumph.” Grandma opened up her purse and made a careful study of its contents.

“Wilder wants to make you proud, you know.”

“Know? Know?” Grandma’s voice rose an octave. “What would I know about Wilder Kane? There’s a boy that doesn’t want to be known, pushes everyone away. Always has.”

“He does.” Quinn came out from around the counter. “He does that so much.”

“You think you can roll around in the hay or whatever it is you do for a couple of weeks and presume to tell me how it is with a boy I’ve known since he was whizzing in diapers?”

Quinn paused, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I think I can. Sometimes a situation can be better assessed with a fresh pair of eyes.”

“Doesn’t look like your eyes see all that great.” Grandma sniffed, waving her hands in the direction of Quinn’s glasses.

“Wow.” Quinn took a seat. “You really bring out the heavy artillery to keep people at bay, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you are yammering about.” Grandma returned to her handbag rummage. “I’m just going to sit here and wait for my harebrained daughter-in-law to fetch me. No, wait, not daughter-in-law because right now she’s living in sin with my Sawyer.”

Quinn propped her hand on her chin. “They seem serious.”

Grandma wrinkled her nose in response. “Serious is when he sticks a ring on her finger and gives me some legitimate grandbabies.”

“Legitimate?” Quinn smothered a smile. “We aren’t in the middle ages anymore.”

“This is Brightwater, not Hollywood. Traditional family values still matter here. At least to the old-time families.”

“Hey now, I’m a Higsby, remember?”

“To a degree.” Grandma pulled out an Us Weekly from her purse. No wonder she was current on all the hot young actors.

“Hey!” An idea occurred to her. Good or bad was impossible to say, but worth a shot. She didn’t need this woman to bless her relationship, but sensed it would mean the world to Wilder. “Would you be willing to come to my house?”

Grandma glanced over the top of the magazine with a startled expression. “Now why would I want to do that?”

“I’d like to make you and Wilder dinner. The three of us. You and I can get acquainted and you and he . . . well, you can get reacquainted?”

“Does that boy know about your cockamamie idea?”

“Of course.” It was a little startling how smoothly the lie rolled off her tongue. “In fact, it was his suggestion.”

Grandma shook her head. “Now I know you’re telling tales out of school.”

“I’m serious. How does tomorrow night sound?”

The bells to the front door tinkled.

“Evening, ladies. Brrrrrrr, it’s freezing outside.” Annie came in pink cheeked and bright eyed, her small frame buried under a bright yellow jacket, red wool scarf, and ladybug winter boots. Somehow the whole eclectic combo looked perfect on her.

“I was just telling Grandma here how Wilder and I wanted to have her over to my place for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” Annie blinked as if to say “Are you sure about that?” Instead, she managed to say, “What a wonderful idea. She’d love that.”

“My hip might be bum but I have a pair of perfectly functioning vocal cords,” Grandma snapped. “And wonderful and love aren’t the words I’m searching for.”

“I know you aren’t driving much these days on account of your fall last summer but how about Wilder comes and picks you up at six?” Quinn crossed her fingers under the table. Please don’t let him kill me.

“Six? Won’t work. I eat at five,” Grandma said grimly.

Annie clucked her tongue. “Isn’t it fun to try new things, step out of the ho-hum routine?”

Grandma slammed her hat on her head, a purple felt one with a plastic bird stapled to the side. “Change gives me indigestion.”

“Five is perfect.” Quinn smiled. “So Wilder will pick you up at four-thirty and we’ll eat then. I don’t work tomorrow. I’m going to spend the afternoon with Dad.”

“Fine.” Grandma heaved a hefty sigh. “As long as you don’t serve none of that kombooty.”

“Excuse me?”

She pointed an accusing finger at Annie. “Kombooty. This one tried to poison me with it last week.”

“Kombucha,” Annie replied patiently. “It’s full of probiotics.”

“Smelled like infected cat pee.”

“No kombucha, promise. How about pan-fried pork chop and baked potatoes?” Quinn could manage that, just. “I’ll pick up a yummy dessert from Edie’s shop.”

“She’s another one.” Grandma shook her head. “Can’t that girl bake a chocolate cake, plain and sensible? No, she has to go adding a ganache. What is a ganache anyway?”

“It’s a French glaze,” Annie answered promptly.

“Foreign food.” Grandma huffed. “Why not good old American buttercream?”

“Grandma, are you having a low-blood-sugar moment because I have some snacks in my car.” Annie’s tone seemed sweet but Quinn could tell she enjoyed baiting the older woman.

“You’re trying to kill me off with those snacks. Dried coconut chips, blue corn chips, and homemade granola? No thank you.” What’s more, Grandma enjoyed being baited.

Annie grinned. “All the more kale for me then.”

Grandma shook her head but couldn’t restrain her own smile. Needling Annie seemed to be how she showed affection. Interesting.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night,” Quinn said in her most chipper tone.

“Just once, just once I’d like one of my grandsons to settle down with a sensible girl. Do you have sense, missy? And how is your father?” Grandma continued, not waiting for a reply to her first question. She shoved her magazine back in the bag and rose. “Damn shame what happened to him. He was a fine man, a good man. They don’t make them like that in this day and age.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said. “I miss him, which is strange to say because he’s right there in front of me.”

Grandma reached across the table, grabbing her wrist with a surprisingly strong hand. “There’s a part of him that knows. You have to trust that. He might not act like he gets that love, but somewhere deep inside he does.”

Quinn glanced up and Grandma’s eyes misted. Maybe it was a trick of the light because then she was standing up, thrusting her handbag at Annie, imperious as a queen.

“Tell that boy I’ll see him at four-thirty sharp.”

“Will do,” Quinn said as Annie mouthed “good luck” behind Grandma’s back.

After they left the shop, Quinn stayed seated at the table, staring thoughtfully at the wall. In theory, Grandma was talking to her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the older woman was also talking to herself.

As she locked up, she glanced at the sky. The clouds were covering the moon and stars, but just in case anyone was listening, she offered up a small prayer. “Please.”

That was all. Please let everything work out for the best. As she walked to her truck, a little warmth blazed in her chest and she hugged herself. Maybe everything would work out okay. Maybe Brightwater would end up being a surprise happy ending after all.

Just as she got her key in her car door, a feeling prickled over her, one she’d had the last few days in the store, as if someone watched her. Every time she scanned Main Street, no one was there. But this time, a flash of high beams swept over her. She shielded her eyes as a small nondescript car flew past her, missing her by less than five feet. The driver was hunched low, face obscured by the steering wheel.