Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,102
she wanted to explore where their memorable kiss might lead, the next move was up to her.
Jeannette settled the last lavender wreath into its box, added it to the other two that hadn’t sold at the Friday farmer’s market, and gave the empty booth one last scan.
She was out of here.
And much faster than most of the other vendors. Rarely did she have much unsold merchandise to haul home, and the photos and lavender netting she used to decorate her booth were easy to take down. Fifteen minutes flat, she was ready to roll.
“You’ve got this routine down pat.”
She swiveled toward Marci, who waved as she jogged over.
“Comes from practice.” She set the wreaths into the trunk and closed the lid. “It helps that vendors are allowed to pull their vehicles up to the booths after the market closes. That expedites the process. What are you doing down here on a Friday night?”
“I’m writing a story for the next issue on the myrtlewood booth, and I need a few photos to go with it—which I almost didn’t get. I forgot the market was closing an hour early tonight so the town could set up for that 5K run tomorrow morning. Not that it would have been a big deal if I had to wait a week. I’ll probably bump the story to leave space for the big news in our little hamlet, anyway.”
“You mean the runaways?” What else could it be?
“Yes. I’m going to focus on the inspiring turnout of local citizens to assist with the search and tie it back to the outpouring of support the town gave to the idea of sponsoring a refugee family. We’re blessed to live in such a special town.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“So how are Logan and Molly doing?”
Marci was the third person today to ask her that question.
Why did everyone in town think she had inside information about her neighbors?
“I haven’t talked to Logan since last night.”
“Oh.” Marci regarded her. “Well, I’m assuming everything’s fine. I saw his car at the urgent care center as I drove here. If there were any issues, I doubt he’d have gone in today.”
He’d been at work all day?
That could explain why she hadn’t heard from him—although he’d gotten off two hours ago, and he’d had plenty of time to— “—you think of him?”
Drat.
She’d been zoning out on conversations since the market opened—as more than one customer had noticed.
“Sorry. I, uh, was distracted for a minute.”
“I said, now that you’ve gotten to know our new doctor, what do you think of him . . . off the record?”
She busied herself sweeping a few cookie sample crumbs off the counter of the booth. “He seems very nice.”
“More than, from everything I’ve heard. Did you know he made a house call for Rose Marshall from the garden club? She has the flu and felt too sick to drive, so he swung by after work earlier this week.”
No, she didn’t know that.
But she wasn’t surprised.
Logan West was the real deal.
“I thought house calls had gone out with the dodo bird.” Jeannette kept her tone conversational as she brushed off her hands.
“My point exactly. If you ask me, he’s a keeper—just in case you happen to have any ideas along those lines.” Marci grinned and gave her an elbow nudge. “By the way, I haven’t forgotten about the feature on the farm and tearoom. You’re up next. Gotta run—Ben and I have a dinner date.” With another wave, she bounded off.
Lips flexing as the energetic editor disappeared into the crowd, Jeannette circled her car, slid behind the wheel, and twisted the key in the ignition.
As she slowly drove down Dockside Drive, taking care to edge around the vendors loading their vehicles, she couldn’t dispute what Marci had said about Logan.
He was a keeper—if you were in the market for one.
But last night had been scary. If the situation had gone south, she would have been right back where she’d been in Cincinnati—all because she’d let herself get too close to the doctor next door and his charming niece.
Thank heaven she’d dodged a bullet on that one. Everyone was fine.
This time.
Tomorrow could be a different story though.
However . . . if she backed off, eventually her emotional attachment to them would fade.
It was an easy solution—if that was the outcome she wanted.
The very question she intended to ponder long and hard during the weekend ahead.
“She’s home!”
At Molly’s excited announcement, Logan fumbled the lightbulb he’d been screwing into the kitchen fixture.