the Marines,” Emily pointed out. “He’s used to dealing with new recruits.”
Brooke had a fleeting thought about Adam’s military past. After everything he’d told her, she thought he might have stayed as far away from Tyler as possible, but he hadn’t. Surely that was a good sign. But she couldn’t discuss his confidences, so it was time to change the subject. “Speaking of my brothers . . . Nate is insufferably happy.”
Emily grinned.
“He’s left the ranch at almost a decent hour instead of lingering too long these last couple days. He’s actually delegating, which is something that idiot brother of mine needed to do more of. You’re good for him. How are you enjoying setting up house?”
Emily blushed. “It’s wonderful being together. I keep hoping you two will find someone, fall in love, and be just as happy.” She hesitated. “Or maybe find someone who can make you happy in every way.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Em,” Brooke said. “I don’t know about her,” she added, pointing with her thumb at Monica.
“It’s Christmas—I’m too busy,” Monica insisted. “I never put any more pressure on myself during the holidays than I have to. And then I’m taking an online class in January for the flower side of my business.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of denial,” Emily said. “Maybe a nice guy will rent my apartment, and you’ll hit it off.”
“So you’re advertising it already?” Brooke asked.
Some of her disappointment must have leaked through because both women turned to stare at her.
“Why? Are you interested?” Emily leaned forward with eagerness.
Brooke sighed. “I . . . maybe. Interested, anyway. But it’s just not easy to leave my mom. She’s getting back on her feet, but . . . a relapse could happen anytime.”
“You work there all day, every day,” Monica pointed out. “You see her more than most of us ever see our moms.”
“And you’ll only live a couple miles away,” Emily added. “Oh, say you’ll rent it. I was really worried about a stranger being right above my bakery.”
“I don’t know.” Brooke felt unable to explain away her unease. On the one hand, she longed to have a place of her own, where she could be independent. She was twenty-eight years old! But on the other hand, there was her family, and all their expectations.
“I’ll tell you what,” Emily said. “I won’t advertise it until the new year. That’ll give you a few weeks to make a decision.”
Brooke smiled her relief. “Thanks.”
“She wants a love nest,” Monica said casually.
Both Brooke and Emily groaned.
The bell jingled again, and Brooke glanced over her shoulder—and did a double take. Whitney Winslow had stepped inside, looking over the flower arrangements and hometown crafts with interest.
Brooke stood up. “Hi, Whitney.”
She glanced behind the counter, then her face broke into a wide smile. “Hello, ladies! I saw the display but didn’t connect your name, Monica.”
“Can’t blame you,” Monica said, going past the counter into the showroom. “We only met a couple times.”
“I really like your merchandise.” Whitney strolled through the side of the showroom devoted to unusual gifts. “These are all locally made?”
“I sell them on consignment,” Monica said, following her. “The wedding quilts are a big seller, along with the knitted and crocheted layettes.”
“I’m interested in the leather,” Whitney mused.
Brooke gave a snort of laughter, then realized she might be offending the woman.
Whitney met her eyes and grinned. “Oh, sorry, guess that could be taken many ways. But the tooling on these purses is just so . . . exquisite. Who’s the artist?”
Before anyone could answer, a young couple came through the door. Whitney went back to browsing, and Brooke and Emily exchanged a glance. The two customers were holding hands, barely able to keep their eyes off each other. They were newly engaged, they explained, and wanted to make an appointment to discuss flower arrangements for their wedding.
When at last they left, Whitney came back to the women and gave a happy sigh. “Romance! That’s what Valentine Valley is all about, right? How can Mr. Galimi and his friends not see that my store could be a part of that?”
Brooke shrugged. “Maybe his wife makes him have sex with the lights off, and he’s never seen her nightgowns.”
They all laughed.
Whitney’s gaze strayed back to Josh’s purses. “I have to know who the artist is. Maybe I can give him some sales, and he can help be a bridge between the townspeople and me.”
“He’s my brother, Josh,” Brooke said.
“How perfect.” Whitney opened her purse and