his watch. “Our last volunteer is arriving at five thirty. Would you mind taking my truck to pick her up at the bus station?”
Linc desperately wanted a shower, a change of clothes and something to eat, but he took the keys from Joseph, who had far more to contend with than Linc ever had. “Happy to.”
“Thanks a million. Bring her back here, and I’ll drop you both at the campground on the way home.”
“Will do.”
“Do you remember how to get there?”
“I think so.”
Joseph gave him verbal directions that Linc tried to commit to memory, hoping he wouldn’t get lost. “You’re looking for Molly Stillman.”
“I’ll find her.”
As Lincoln drove into town, he took in the sights along the way. Families were gathered on spacious front porches, kids played in parks, and teenagers huddled together in groups. He passed an antique store, a diner, the post office, an art gallery and a variety of other shops and restaurants. Having never lived in a small town, he was fascinated by the slower pace, the sense of community and the obvious closeness of the town’s residents.
The farther he got from town, the more houses became dilapidated, overgrown, neglected. Some bore obvious damage from the hurricane. He felt good knowing he would help to make a difference for the families who’d benefit from their project, but the need was obviously much greater than a hundred and fifty houses.
Absorbed in the observations, he nearly missed the last turn for the bus station and realized he needed to turn only when he saw a bus pulling out of the road that led to the station. He parked and got out of the truck. Now that he’d arrived, he wondered how he’d recognize someone he’d never met.
And then he spotted a woman standing alone, a backpack at her feet, and walked over to her. “Are you Molly?”
She looked up at him, and whoa. Pretty. That was the first word that popped into his mind. When she smiled, his entire system went haywire as he took in her gorgeous face. She had long honey-colored hair, golden brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose that he found ridiculously adorable.
“Are you Joseph?” she asked.
It took him a full ten seconds to realize she expected him to reply. He blinked, cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m Lincoln Abbott, one of the other volunteers. Joseph sent me to pick you up.”
“I’m Molly Stillman.”
He shook her outstretched hand, wondering how an average handshake could feel so far above average. “Nice to meet you. I came right from working all day at the site, so sorry to be picking you up filthy.”
“No worries.”
Linc bent to pick up her bag and saw that she had a second one slung over her back. “Is this everything?”
“Yep. I was told to travel light, and holy crap, it’s hot.”
“This is nothing.” Linc led the way to Joseph’s truck. “Wait until you see what midday is like.”
“Can’t wait,” she said with a wry grin that he caught out of the corner of his eye. “Have you been here long?”
“Just since yesterday.”
“Where’re you from?”
“Philadelphia originally, but I’ve spent the last six years in New Haven, Connecticut.”
“What’s in New Haven?”
“Yale.”
“Ah. I see.”
He held the passenger door to the truck for her. “What about you? Where’re you from?”
“A tiny little town in Vermont called Butler. I just graduated from Middlebury and jumped at the chance to get out of Vermont and experience something new before I start work in the fall.”
“What’re you doing for work?”
“Joining the family business,” she said with a decided lack of enthusiasm that he could certainly relate to.
“What’s the business?”
“A country store that my grandparents founded.”
“That sounds fun.”
“Does it? To me, it sounds… small.” She winced and quickly added, “But it’s fun, too.”
Lincoln thought about what she’d said and tried to contend with his unprecedented reaction to her as he rounded the front of the truck and got in the driver’s side. He’d had his share of girlfriends, but he’d never met anyone as lovely as Molly Stillman from Butler, Vermont.
“What’s the store like?”
“It’s an old-time country store, full of nostalgia and products you used to be able to get that are now hard to find. Plus housewares, toys, health stuff and, of course, maple syrup and cheese, two things Vermont is famous for.”
“It sounds amazing.”
“It is. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a very special place, and I’ve loved it all my life. One of my earliest memories was going to work with my