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Gracie leaned forward. “I hope so. I know they’d be perfect for each other. She’s told me once before that Nathan reminds her of her first husband. Isn’t that romantic?”
A flash of pain flickered across Kyle’s gaze and Gracie immediately regretted her careless words. But he recovered so quickly, she almost thought she might have imagined his sorrow. His laugh was certainly genuine. “See, you are a matchmaker.”
Gracie colored. “Please don’t tease me.”
Kyle lost his smile. “Gracie,” he said, his voice suddenly low. He reached across the table for her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “You know I only badger you because I like you. I’d certainly never torment an enemy this way.”
He looked as if he were ready to say more, but they were interrupted by one of the waitresses. “Your usual, Dr. Kyle?” she asked after greeting them.
“I’d appreciate that, Maggie,” Kyle replied genially, patting his stomach for emphasis.
Gracie guessed she shouldn’t be surprised that Kyle frequented Harry’s Kitchen, since he was a recently widowed man who probably didn’t cook much for himself, but somehow she’d pictured him more as The Bistro type, with fancy cloth napkins and real silver. She knew from talking to him that he’d led a fairly well-to-do lifestyle as a neurologist in Houston.
Maggie turned to get her order. “I’ll have the same,” Gracie said without hesitation. But the moment the waitress moved away, Gracie asked, “And what would that be, exactly?”
“Would what be?”
“The usual?”
“Oh, that.” Kyle made a show of licking his bottom lip and patting his flat stomach. “Grilled cheese. Extra pickle.”
Gracie made a face.
“You don’t like pickles?”
“It’s not that. I just expected— I don’t know. Caviar or something.”
“At Harry’s? I don’t think so.”
Gracie laughed. “You have a point.”
“Except…”
“Grilled cheese is such a boy-next-door kind of food. You went to medical school.”
“And survived on grilled cheese sandwiches. With extra pickles.”
“More than survived, I’d say,” came a sultry voice from behind Gracie’s left shoulder. “Looks to me like you’ve thrived, big guy.”
Kyle clamped his jaw closed, Gracie thought to keep from saying something he’d regret. She couldn’t miss the look of pure panic that flashed through his gaze before his eyes glazed over.
Gracie turned to the newcomer, whom she knew well from her schoolgirl years and recognized merely from the sappy sweet sound of her voice. “Chelsea Daniels. What brings you into Harry’s?”
“As if you didn’t know.” Chelsea gave Kyle a long, sliding look that made the man blush.
Gracie rolled her eyes. She’d never gotten along particularly well with Chelsea in school. She had little tolerance for any woman who spent more time combing her shoulder-length brown hair and applying makeup to accentuate her fine bones and delicate features than she did cultivating her friendships.
Chelsea was one of those women who’d matured early, and had always caught the eyes of the boys. And she’d known it. She knew it now.
Always looking after her own self-interests, Chelsea could only be depended on to think of herself and what she wanted.
Now was not an exception; only now, Chelsea had apparently decided she wanted Kyle. Gracie actually felt sorry for the poor man.
“Are you going on the bachelor’s block, Kyle?” Chelsea purred, hovering over Kyle so that he squirmed back in the booth to escape her.
“The what?” he asked, flashing a bewildered and at the same time beseeching look at Gracie. It was clear he had no idea what was going on.
“Oh, never mind,” Chelsea snapped, typically and easily annoyed and diverted. “It’s really too bad I’m already finished eating, or I’d join you,” she said, blowing out a huff of breath. “But there’s always another day, right?”
“Uh…right. I guess,” Kyle agreed, looking to Gracie as if he were wishing he didn’t have to say anything at all.
“Until then…” Gracie suggested, raising her eyebrows and nodding her head toward Chelsea’s neglected table of friends.
Chelsea didn’t take her eyes off Kyle for a moment. She preened and puffed and purred. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know,” Gracie said immediately as Kyle slid upright in his seat again. For emphasis, she put her elbows on the table and placed her palms over her ears.
“It’s not my fault,” Kyle denied heatedly, reaching across to grab Gracie’s hands away from her ears, pulling them to the tabletop and cradling them in his own. “I have no idea what I ever said to that woman, but for some reason, she has it out for me, big time.”
“I wish you two all the best.”
“Please don’t say that,” he groaned, twisting in his seat as if he were in physical pain. “Gracie, you’ve got to help me get out of this.”
“Look, if Chelsea Daniels has her claws out for you, she’s going to get you. At least that’s been my experience in the past.”
Kyle pursed his lips tightly, and Gracie wasn’t sure whether he was scowling or trying to bite back a laugh. “And how is that, exactly?”
“You know the type. Popped the boys’ eyeballs out of their heads in junior high and never looked back.”
“Early bloomer, huh? Do I detect a note of jealousy here?”
Gracie snorted. “Not in this lifetime. I have never, nor do I ever desire to be, the self-indulged type of woman Chelsea has grown into.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kyle muttered, half under his breath.
“Though in her defense,” Gracie continued, not knowing how to take Kyle’s comment, “she does get every man she sets out to win.”
“Well, that’s not how it’s going to happen this time.”
Gracie cocked an eyebrow, her heart hammering in her chest.
He shrugged. “I only want to be left alone. I’m not in the market for a relationship. I’ve seen Chelsea around town, and bumped into her at various functions I’ve attended with the McGuires. She’s made it pretty obvious she’s interested in me.”
“I’ll bet.”
Kyle nodded once, briskly. “I’ve tried to tell Chelsea how I feel, but she won’t listen to a word I tell her.”
Gracie bit back a token of disappointment. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but that wasn’t exactly it. “I’m not surprised, Kyle. She doesn’t give up on an idea easily.”
“Speaking of ideas, what was that about a bachelor’s block or some such?”
Gracie chuckled and took a long drink of iced tea. “Wouldn’t you like to know? You’ll find out soon enough, big guy. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Chapter Two
G racie arrived at the Safe Harbor Women’s League meeting Tuesday afternoon to a completely unexpected round of applause. She dropped into a graceful curtsy and then cocked her hands on her hips and looked around, carefully eyeing the handful of women, most of whom she’d known all her life.
“Thank you very much,” she said wryly, tapping her foot methodically against the floor. “Now tell me what the applause is for.”
“As if you didn’t know,” Wendy McGuire said with a laugh, smoothing a hand across her burgeoning pregnancy. “Talk is all around town about you and that hunky Dr. Kyle.”
“Me and Dr. Kyle what?” Gracie rasped, though she wasn’t entirely surprised by her friends’ reaction. There wasn’t enough going on in Safe Harbor to keep everyone really busy, so they grabbed at whatever they could for amusement. She was as guilty as anyone in this room about reaching for what seemed exciting news wherever she could find it. “Sorry to disappoint everyone, but Hart and I are just friends.”
There was an audible groan at the news, and Gracie chuckled loudly. “Do you gals want to try that one again in unison?” she teased.
“Does this mean you won’t be bidding on Kyle’s chocolate at the bachelor’s block auction next Saturday?” teased the newly wedded and extremely happy Annie Simmons-Mitchard.
“Assuming, that is, that I can get him up on the block at all,” Constance complained good-naturedly as she passed out miniature plastic pacifiers in pink and blue, each tied with a ribbon long enough to dangle around a woman’s neck like a necklace.
“Is he being stubborn?” one of the women called, hooting in displeasure.
Constance shrugged. “Kyle hasn’t said yes, yet, but don’t worry, ladies. I’ve made sure there are enough men up for auction this year. Everyone here will get their box of chocolate.”
There was a pleasant round of laughter and a few raucous comments. “Well, Gracie, is it chocolate for you or not this year?” Wendy prompted, returning to the subject Gracie had hoped was long forgotten. “Assuming Kyle takes the plunge.”
“I believe I can safely promise not to bid on Hart’s box of goodies,” Gracie assured everyone, holding up her right hand, palm open. “The playing field’s wide-open where that man’s concerned.”
“Never say never, sweetheart,” came the crackly old voice of the town’s postmistress and biggest gossip, Elizabeth Neal.
Gracie spotted her a catty grin, and the old woman cackled pleasantly. Elizabeth Neal, and Safe Harbor residents in general, would learn soon enough that she and Hart had nothing more in common than a working relationship.
No box of chocolates was going to tempt her, even if they were held by strapping biceps and accompanied by the tempestuous amber eyes and the alluring knockout smile of Dr. Kyle Hart.
“Isn’t this party supposed to be for Wendy?” she loudly reminded those present. After adding her gift to a large pile, she chose a spot beside Constance and took her seat with a sigh.
The lighthouse meeting room was appropriately decorated with pink and blue streamers, and a long table had been ornamented with a cow jumping over a bright sliver of a moon. Wendy was having her third baby, but the Women’s League insisted on throwing a baby shower for her, even so.
“Do you know if it’s a girl, Wendy?” It was Elizabeth who asked aloud the pointed question everyone was wondering in their heads. Robert and Wendy were the proud parents of two boisterous boys, ages six and four; soft, sweet and pink were all the keynotes on the Safe Harbor question list where the McGuires were concerned.
Wendy rested a hand on top of her abdomen and chuckled happily. “Robert and I have decided to keep it a secret until the birth.”
She held up her hands at the murmurs of protest that rose at her words. “I know, I know. You’d think by number three, we’d want to know, and the sooner, the better. But you know, there are too few real surprises in life, at least good ones.”
Gracie thought Wendy’s explanation sounded reasonable, and actually a bit romantic at the core. But she could tell by the groaning and variety of expressions around her that everyone in the room didn’t share her opinion on the matter.
“Do you have a feeling one way or the other, on whether it is a boy or girl?” Gracie asked, then unconsciously brushed her fingers over her own trim waist. “Not that I would have the slightest notion if such a thing were possible.”
“Well, I haven’t been dangling rings over my belly, if that’s what you mean.” There was general laughter over Wendy’s referral to the old wives’ tale of rocking and circling rings. “However, if I were to guess, I’d guess I’m carrying a boy.”
Constance groaned loudly, and Gracie elbowed the middle-aged woman playfully in the ribs.
“Well, how would you like to have all boys?” Constance whispered. “I only had one, and he was all I could keep up with.”
Unexplainably, a crystal-clear image of three adorable black-haired, amber-eyed ragtag boys wrestling with each other entered her head, and she smiled softly. “That might not be so bad.”
“I wouldn’t mind another boy,” Wendy said, and Gracie wondered if she’d heard Constance’s comments. “My little guys are the light of my life. Besides, it’s just a feeling. Robert thinks it’s a girl. The baby is a gift from God, whether a boy or a girl,” she reminded them softly.
“Of course,” Gracie agreed, darting a glance at Constance. “What matters is that the baby, boy or girl, is born healthy.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” agreed Wendy, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment.
The party quickly got under way, and the women played a couple of goofy baby shower games that Gracie would just as soon have skipped, but seemed to be perennial favorites of the old-timers.
They guessed the length of yarn needed to wrap around the mom-to-be’s waist. They matched famous mothers and children from history—Gracie won that one, and received a pretty crystal candle holder in the shape of a swan.
And then there was the one Gracie disliked the most—anyone caught saying the word baby lost the pacifier around her neck to the lucky woman who’d heard the word uttered. Gracie was far too much of a talker not to say the word baby at a baby shower, and it annoyed her to have to try. But she was a good sport, and since she could only lose her coveted pacifier necklace once, it didn’t stop her from talking up a storm.
Robert was supposed to be in charge of picking up the cake from the local bakery, but he had not yet arrived with it, so the ladies settled in to some good, old-fashioned gift opening.
“You handled that whole Dr. Kyle thing pretty cleanly,” Constance said, leaning in for a conspiratorial whisper.
“Hart? How’s that?”
“You know what I mean.” Constance nudged her playfully on the shoulder.
Gracie chuckled. “Yes, I guess I do. I’m glad they believed me, that Kyle and I are just friends.”
“Oh, no, sweetie, they don’t believe you. I don’t believe you. We’re just being polite and giving you rope to hang yourself.”
Gracie narrowed her eyes on her friend. Why did no one believe her? “Thank you very much for your encouragement.”
Constance giggled and pecked her on the cheek affectionately. “Don’t worry, hon. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Gracie nodded. “Let me know when, okay?” she commented wryly.
Constance smiled, but it slipped. Gracie saw her friend’s expression falter, reached for Constance’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Enough talking about me. How are you doing?”
“I guess I shouldn’t be panning advice. It’s not like I’m an expert.” She curled her hands in her lap, then glanced away, pretending to take interest in the gift Wendy was opening.
“You’re obviously better at this than I am,” Gracie pointed out, trying to lighten the mood. “No one said a single word about you and Nathan today. What’s your secret?”
Constance pinched her lips. “No one would dare. Seriously, I think people walk on eggshells when they’re around me. I walk on eggshells around me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Because?” Gracie prompted.
“Because—” Constance paused, her gaze darting around the room as if looking for an avenue of escape. Finally, she looked back to Gracie, her eyes bursting with panic, like a cornered animal. “I’m attracted to Nathan. From the soul.”
Constance’s confession made the air freeze in Gracie’s lungs. There was something in what she said that went beyond the mere romantic, a connectedness there that was almost spiritual in nature.
