“It is really great to have you back, Annie.” Ian had worried she might have enjoyed her family so much during the winter that she’d change her mind about coming back to Grey Gables. He’d been relieved when he learned that she’d decided to turn her Texas home into a sort of retreat for returning missionaries. It was like her to do something like that. But sometimes he worried that her enthusiasm to embrace the world made her vulnerable.
“It’s good to be back,” she said. “I’m looking forward to bringing LeeAnn and the kids back to Stony Point. They love it here.” She smiled and glanced away briefly, as though embarrassed by something.
“Well, apparently the word’s getting out about our fair city. I’ve never seen so many tourists.” He paused as Lisa set a pot of tea and the pastry in front of Annie. Ian cleared his throat. “Speaking of tourists, I heard you have a guest at Grey Gables. Are you running a bed and breakfast now?” he asked with a grin.
She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Word gets around.”
“That’s our community. We’re nothing if not close-knit,” he said drily. “I thought you’d like that description, being a member of the Hook and Needle Club.”
“Droll. Very droll. I’m not a knitter, but I guess ‘close-crochet’ doesn’t have the same ring.” She grinned and stirred her tea thoughtfully. “I do have a guest,” she began slowly. She broke off a small piece of danish and considered it before putting it into her mouth. “Her name’s Tara Frasier. She’s a young woman who’s had a pretty rough time and recently lost her mother. When she was going through some things in her mother’s Portland apartment she found some letters. They were from Gram. Tara came to Stony Point to thank her for befriending her mother.” Annie paused and studied the remaining pastry on her plate.
“Well, did you know her mother at all?”
“No. The letters were recent, but I gather that Tara’s mother visited Stony Point as a young woman. She was just fifty when she passed away. Tara’s pretty curious about her mother’s life. I think there’s a bit of guilt there too, for whatever reason. When someone dies, you always think of the things you didn’t do—and the things you did but wished you hadn’t.” She paused, frowning. “Did you know a Claire Andrews, Ian?”
Ian turned the name over in his mind but came up empty. “Claire Andrews,” he repeated thoughtfully. “No. Doesn’t ring any bells.” He searched her face, as though the information might be written there. “How long does your guest plan to stick around?”
“Not sure,” Annie said. “She lost her job. She worked for some sign company in Portland that was downsizing. She said something about staying through the summer.”
“At Grey Gables?” Ian asked, surprised.
“Well, she’s quick to say she won’t impose. She’s looking for a place in town, but she doesn’t have any money, and I have the room.”
He wanted to say she was asking for trouble taking in a stranger, and that he didn’t want her getting hurt. But he knew Annie would balk at that. She’d put herself out on a limb before and nearly fell off. The truth was he’d cut off his own arm before he’d let her get hurt, but he couldn’t tell her that either. “So you think she wants to stick around just to dredge up memories of her mom?” It sounded harsh, he realized. He gave an apologetic shrug. “Doesn’t she have a family or ties somewhere to get back to?”
“She has no family, and as I mentioned, no job. But she’s eager to get work, even part time, here in Stony Point for the summer. She wants to pay her way, Ian. Don’t be so suspicious!” A twinkle in her eye gentled the criticism.
“Just looking out for our fair city, Annie … and for you.” He touched her arm lightly, and then drew his hand back. She said nothing to this, but a little pink spot appeared in her cheek. Ian could feel the heat rising in his own. Clearly, she was becoming more important than was comfortable—perhaps for either of them.
“I saw an ad in The Point for help at Carla’s,” she said. “Tara likes animals. I was thinking that might be something she could do.” Annie gave Ian an inquiring look.
He let his breath out slowly. The flinty woman had earned the nickname by which she’d come to be known. “I’m afraid Carla Callous might be a harder taskmaster than your guest bargains for. This Tara sounds … what’s the word? Fragile?”
“It’s true that she’s not the picture of health, but she may have more stamina than we know. It’s worth a try.” She took a sip of tea and asked, “What do you know about Carla, Ian?”