The explanation seemed to do the trick as each man visibly relaxed.
Caleb turned to Spencer. “Should we let him off the hook?”
Spencer grinned. “I don’t know. I like seeing him squirm.”
Cooper flipped them off as he turned toward his truck an aisle over. “You guys suck,” he said, ignoring the laughter behind him.
“Come on, buddy,” Spencer yelled after him. “You make it so easy.”
This was the crap he got for being a nice guy. “Screw you!” he hollered back. “I’ve got work to do.”
Chapter 7
Since sleep wasn’t in the cards, and Haleigh felt in the way with Abby’s mom and the baby, she ventured downtown in search of artwork for her bedroom wall.
This was an unusual occurrence to say the least.
When she’d moved in, Abby had suggested that Haleigh personalize her room. Make it her own. And in six months, she’d failed to add so much as an accent pillow. In her own defense, the idea of decorating anything intimidated her.
She’d apparently been absent the day they passed out the decorator gene, which was likely the same day they’d distributed non-addictive personalities and the ability to pick a suitable partner. The go-to excuse of her long hours at the hospital grew thin when Abby pointed out that other doctors managed to have full lives.
Even ventured into polite society on occasion.
If only socializing wasn’t so . . . dangerous. In her drinking days, Haleigh had been the life of the party. Once sober, she realized she hated small talk and sucked at mingling. Pretending to have a good time was the worst when all she wanted to do was escape. Marcus had been the king of the dinner parties, always looking for new connections and encouraging Haleigh to do the same. Networking, he’d called it.
Torture was her preferred term.
Marcus had known about her addiction, but as he’d never seen her fall off the wagon, he assumed being in the presence of alcohol bore no challenge for her. Raquel, Haleigh’s longtime sponsor, had suggested she correct this assumption, but for some reason she never did. Heaven forbid she not bend over backward to please her fiancé.
Which reminded her, she needed to call Raquel with an update. The sweet older woman had recently found the love of her life—again—and was blissfully planning her third wedding, this one hopefully the proverbial charm. Haleigh couldn’t bring herself to interrupt the cheerful time. And in truth, she was handling things on her own just fine.
Mostly.
Ardent Springs didn’t offer anything as convenient as a mall, but the downtown area had developed quite a bit since she’d left for college. Her mother had dragged her to a cute little store on the corner of Fourth and Main last summer, so Haleigh pointed her car in that direction.
The first person Haleigh spotted inside the store was Lorelei Pratchett, more an acquaintance than a friend during high school. Lorelei’s penchant for drama and rebellion had led Haleigh to keep a comfortable distance between herself and the bold blonde. Haleigh had yet to find her rebellious side in those days.
As she considered spinning on her heel to beat a hasty retreat, Lorelei caught sight of her. “Hey there, Haleigh Rae,” she called, her voice carrying without the necessity of a megaphone. “Welcome to Snow’s Curiosity Shop.”
Sliding past inviting displays of old suitcases and funky bookends, Haleigh joined Lorelei near the center of the store.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m doing some overdue shopping today.”
“Then you’re in the right place.” Lorelei’s genuine smile went a long way in helping Haleigh to relax. As the store owner approached, Lorelei said, “Have you met Snow?”
“We met briefly last summer when I came in with my mother, and then again when Carrie delivered,” Haleigh replied as she accepted the petite woman’s nod of greeting. “The place is as quaint as I remember.”
Unlike the flea markets and consignment shops Haleigh had visited in the past, Snow’s place was organized while maintaining a relaxed and cozy feel. In lieu of junk in piles, themed displays surrounded them, each with an eclectic mix of items that should have clashed but somehow meshed in an inexplicable shabby-chic sort of way.
The store’s owner had clearly implemented her own style into the business. Her necklace should not have gone with her earrings, and the sweater, which reached the back of her knees, would typically be a no-go on such a petite person. Yet, Snow looked stylish. Like one of those women who could drag three random items from her closet and make them look like something off a runway.
In addition to missing the decorator gene, Haleigh also lacked in the fashion department. Thankfully, scrubs and a lab coat didn’t require Fifth Avenue know-how.