time for the next chapter in my life to begin. I want to see what I’ve been missing and put more energy into bolstering family connections.”
He stood, crossed to the fireplace, and extinguished the logs. “I assume that means Hope Harbor is on your travel agenda in the near future.”
“It is. I want to hear all about the new direction your life has taken. Unless a visit from me would be too much of an inconvenience.”
“You’re welcome anytime.”
“Wonderful. Can you recommend a local inn or B&B?”
“I have a spare room at my place that’s yours if you want it. I can’t offer the luxurious five-star accommodations you’re accustomed to from your business travels, but my modest digs do have a world-class view.”
“Trust me, after working fourteen-hour days during those trips, a high-end hotel room was nothing more than a place to fall into bed at night. The luxury was lost on me.”
“I hear you.”
“I do recall a beautiful hotel in Paris, though, where I stayed on my last birthday. I spent the whole day in a windowless meeting room and ordered a late room service dinner. The view of the Eiffel Tower from my window while I ate was my sole chance to enjoy the City of Lights.” A beat passed. “Eating alone had never bothered me, but that night . . . I felt lonely. So staying with you, sharing a few meals, will be a treat.”
He flicked off the lights in the shop. “Believe it or not, I’ve become a decent chef. Don’t expect Le Cordon Bleu fare, but you won’t go hungry.”
“I’ll look forward to whatever you concoct—but I’d also be satisfied with sandwiches or takeout. Don’t go to any trouble on my behalf. And I promise not to overstay my welcome. If I decide to extend my visit, I’ll find other accommodations. You know what Ben Franklin said—after three days, guests, like fish, begin to smell.”
Zach’s lips twitched. Typical Aunt Stephanie. On the rare occasions they’d connected through the years, she’d been a hoot. Blunt, funny, and adventurous, radiating an almost palpable joie de vivre and spouting a live-and-let-live philosophy.
Too bad his dad hadn’t inherited a few of those qualities. While he shared her bluntness, he was too opinionated for his own good . . . or the good of parent-child relationships.
“I doubt that will be a problem. Text me the details of your arrival once your plans are set.”
“Will do.”
He hesitated, propping a shoulder against the wall in the shadowed shop. Did she know about the situation between him and his dad?
Unlikely.
While brother and sister had always talked by phone on a regular basis, his father tended to keep difficult topics close to his vest.
In person, however, it was possible he’d be tempted to vent.
Without a heads-up, she could stumble into a hornet’s nest with an innocent comment or question—putting both her and his father into an uncomfortable position.
“Aunt Stephanie . . . there’s something you ought to know before you visit Dad.”
“You mean about the rift?”
So she did know.
But how much?
“Um . . . yeah. I wasn’t certain he’d clued you in.”
“Clued me in would be stretching it. After he stopped mentioning you during our phone conversations three years ago, I realized there must have been a falling-out. He never offered any details, but I assumed he was disappointed about your career switch.”
Disappointed?
Far too mild a term.
More like shocked. Angry. Bitter. Confused. Distraught.
And his attitude hadn’t softened in the intervening years.
“At the very least.” Zach let his gaze linger on the poster-sized photo on the wall across from him. The shot of a tiny seedling growing in the crack of a boulder, pushing toward the sky as it struggled for a foothold on the inhospitable surface, never failed to encourage and uplift him.
“Family conflicts are difficult.”
“Also avoidable, if people are willing to let each other live their lives as they see fit.”
“I won’t argue with that.” His aunt’s tone remained conversational. “Yet there can be extenuating circumstances. A person’s history can skew their view of the world.”
He straightened a crooked chair and pushed it under a table with more force than necessary. “I know all about the bankruptcy that upended your world when you and Dad were kids—and I get how an experience like that can make a person crave security. But it doesn’t justify shutting out people who choose a different path. That’s not what love’s supposed to be about.”
“Again . . . no argument. And I appreciate the heads-up, though I’m not