Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,16

wouldn’t hurt him to reach out to the Almighty for assistance. He could use all the help he could get with this new life he was trying to create.

“This Sunday?”

“Yes.” No sense putting it off.

Toby, who’d been blessedly quiet while they ate their cookies, sidled up to his new friend, gave her a plaintive look, and began to whine.

“Can he have a cookie?” Molly petted the dog.

“No. They aren’t healthy for him. But you can give him a doggie treat if you want.” He fished one out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She held it out to Toby, who nibbled it from her fingers instead of snatching it away with his usual snap. As if he didn’t want to scare away his new buddy.

Nice to see some progress between his niece and his dog.

Too bad the same wasn’t true about the two of them.

Logan stood and began gathering up the remnants of their snack. “It’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow. If it is, we could go to the beach again. How does that sound?”

“Can we take Toby?”

“Sure.” He psyched himself up for another game of tag with the playful pup.

She licked her finger and pressed it against the cookie crumbs. “Could we ask the cookie lady to come?”

Logan frowned.

Why would Molly want a woman she’d seen only twice to join them?

He tried not to take offense—but he’d been busting his behind for months trying to build some rapport with his niece. Why couldn’t she warm up to him like she had to his neighbor?

Get a grip, West. Be glad she warmed up to someone.

Prudent advice.

He adjusted his perspective.

“Like I said, she’s busy.” He picked up Molly’s empty milk glass.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Pretty didn’t come close to doing Jeannette justice.

“Uh-huh.” And that was all he planned to say on the subject. “Do you want me to read you a story?”

She stared at him. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not bedtime.”

“I think we should have a lunchtime story today. Go pick out a book while I finish cleaning up.”

She slid off her chair, gave him a wary look, and disappeared down the hall, Toby on her heels.

Saved—for now.

But he had a feeling the subject wasn’t closed on his charming neighbor, who intrigued him as much as she intrigued the child who shared his home.

He rinsed out their milk glasses and set them on the counter.

Strange how little the woman had revealed about herself during their two encounters, though.

Like nothing.

He wasn’t the type to run off at the mouth, either, but compared to her he’d been almost garrulous.

Was Jeannette merely reserved by nature—or was there more to her reticence than temperament?

As he pondered that question, Molly returned to the kitchen and handed him a book about a fairy princess.

Surprise, surprise.

Not.

He dried his hands on a dish towel and took it from her.

“Let’s sit over there.” He motioned to the cushioned window seat in the breakfast nook that offered a view of the backyard.

She climbed up beside him, keeping her distance, while Toby settled in at her heels and rested his chin on his paws.

Psyching himself up for another tale of maidens in distress and handsome princes coming to the rescue, Logan opened the book.

But as he began to read, his attention strayed for a moment to the tall hedge that separated his property from Jeannette’s—and the words of an old, classic poem played through his mind.

Maybe good fences made good neighbors—but to paraphrase Robert Frost, what was Jeannette Mason walling in . . . or walling out?

6

“What do you mean, you aren’t going?” Mariam stopped brushing Elisa’s hair and gaped at her son from her seat on the twin bed.

Jutting out his jaw, Thomma propped a shoulder against the door frame and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You heard me. I’m not going. You and Elisa can represent our family.”

“The people of this town are throwing this welcome party for all of us. What will they think if you don’t come?”

“I don’t care.”

She resumed brushing Elisa’s hair, trying to control her anger as she untangled the silky strands and drew them into tiny twin ponytails. “I am ashamed of you, Thomma. I did not raise you to be rude—or ungrateful.”

Heavy silence filled the space between them, but she made no attempt to break it.

At last her son spoke, his tone a shade more conciliatory. “I don’t know their language anyway. You can speak for me.”

Mariam finished off the ponytails with two ribbons. “You don’t know it because you haven’t tried to learn.” She glared