own baby’s kicks, the way she’d held her belly between both hands, as if she were already trying to protect the little girl. But she hadn’t been able to protect her from whatever whims of fate had chosen to curse Emily. And there would never be another baby inside her. After a shaky start, Emily was dealing with it the best way she could.
“The crafts are part of the ‘and Gifts,’ ” Monica continued. “Tourists are really into the romance thing in Valentine Valley, and babies are a natural result. I take in local craft products on a consignment basis.”
“Another inspired idea,” Emily said, stepping over junk on the floor to approach the other woman. Though she had work to do, she wouldn’t rudely ask the woman to leave.
“They sell,” Monica said with a smile and a shrug. “My craft partners and I all end up happy. Wedding-bed quilts are my number one selling item—after my flowers,” she added self-deprecatingly.
“I only just arrived last night, so I haven’t had a chance to wander around. Guess wedding items make sense for tourists in Valentine.”
“Oh, you have no idea. We’re sort of famous around here for romance. Many a love affair has blossomed here. Haven’t you seen all the lovers holding hands?”
“I did notice a few.”
“And the proposals? Girl, I swear there’s one every other day at the gazebo, or the stone bridge in the Rose Garden. The demand for Valentine Valley postmarks on wedding invitations keeps our post office overworked. And luckily, they always want flowers. I’m not complaining, you understand.”
“I understand.” Emily reluctantly smiled, feeling more and more lured in by Monica’s cheerfulness.
“So you only arrived in town last night?”
Emily explained her plans to sell the building.
Monica looked around sympathetically. “Those people were assholes, and I didn’t need to see this disaster to know that. They had flower arrangements for their tables shipped in from Aspen! Like I can’t get flowers just as good thirty miles down the road. More expensive in Aspen, that’s for certain. No wonder they went under.”
Emily didn’t mention the slight increase in the rent.
“Sorry to see you have all this work ahead of you,” Monica said. “Are you hiring help?”
Emily hesitated. “Not right now.”
If Monica grasped Emily’s financial predicament, she didn’t give any indication of pity, which Emily appreciated.
“You’ll do a fine job of it,” Monica continued.
“You can tell that already?” Emily sarcastically spread her hands wide, indicating the state of the building.
“Come on, let’s sit outside. My break is almost over, and I want to enjoy the sun.”
Emily knew she shouldn’t, but her back was aching, along with her feet, so she followed Monica outside. There were wrought-iron benches beneath the plate-glass windows on either side of the front door, perhaps meant for customers waiting for a table. Emily sat down beside Monica, stretched out her legs with a sigh, and lifted her face for the sun’s warmth.
“So how do Nate and his bad mood come into this?” Monica asked.
Emily glanced at the woman, noticing her amusement, praying that the story of her conduct hadn’t spread beyond the tavern. She didn’t want to discuss her business with a stranger but found the words tumbling tiredly from her lips. “I stopped for a meal at Tony’s Tavern when I got in late last night. Then my car wouldn’t start. Tony vouched for Nate, who offered me a lift. I tried to go to a motel—”
“With Nate?” Monica interrupted, then clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
“No!” Emily said too fervently, praying she hadn’t started a new rumor. “Just me. But he insisted on taking me to the Widows’ Boardinghouse, where there’s an extra room.”
Monica grinned. “You know that’s practically a senior living home.”
“I do,” Emily said. “But they were very kind to me, and since they knew my grandmother, they’re insisting I remain there while I’m in Valentine. But once the upstairs apartment is ready, I’ll be moving in here.”
“Your family is from here?”
Emily briefly explained about her grandparents owning the building and her mother leaving right out of high school. “Once my grandmother died, we never came back. I don’t remember much at all about the town.” She refixed her ponytail in anticipation of returning to work. “So anyway, that’s my only connection to Nate. Now I should get back inside—” She started to rise.
Monica whistled. “He’s some kind of man.”
Sitting back down, Emily willed herself not to blush and tried to find a noncommittal response. “Is he?” She sounded a little too