Page 89 of The Guest Cottage
“Shh. I shouldn’t be telling you this.” Joann gave a furtive look around. “The meetings are public, but they’re set up in private.”
Marlow’s gumption flooded back. “They’re hardly private if you know, and now I know, and all the eavesdroppers in here probably know, too.” When she glanced at different customers, they all pretended to be busy.
Except for Cort.
He didn’t shy away from her gaze. She doubted he shied away from anything. Things had changed between them. They were closer now. She felt it, but if she was forced to leave, what would happen?
Nothing, she assured herself. So she’d live in the next town over. So what?
So it wouldn’t be Bramble, and now that she’d dug in, she wanted to stay.
She’d still see Cort, she assured herself. All week long, he’d made it clear just how much he cared. It was there in his touch, in his every word, in the way he sometimes stared at her, as if trying to figure out a puzzle.
“What time is the meeting?” Marlow asked.
Shrugging, Joann said, “I honestly don’t know. It changes. The members figure out what works, and then they get together and make decisions.”
“That doesn’t seem fair!”
“Other people can weigh in—ifthey know about the meeting and attend.”
Someone cleared their throat, and when Marlow looked back, she saw grumpy Ben Crawford with an empty coffee cup lifted toward her. He had a few bites of pie left. She was on the clock, so she needed to get back to work.
“Thanks for letting me know, Joann.” And now that she knew, she’d figure out a way to attend that meeting. To fight for herself. To cement her citizenship in Bramble.
“I’m rooting for you,” Joann said.
“You are?”
“Pretty sure we all are. You’re one of us now.”
She heard murmured voices saying, “That’s right,” “One of us,” and “She’s not going anywhere.” Tension eased from her shoulders; affection lightened her worry. Turning to face her curious audience, she held up a fist, like a championship fighter, and got a few laughs with mingled applause and whistles.
She loved this town. She loved these people. Most of all, she loved Cort. With that much love going around, how could she lose?
* * *
Cort watched her work. For a moment there, Marlow had looked devastated, then defeated. For only a moment, though. He knew she’d heard about the upcoming meeting.
Did she think he wouldn’t fight for her?
Probably, because he hadn’t yet told her the truth: that he was in love with her. She’dalmosttold him, and if she had, he’d have declared himself on the spot. But she’d pulled back, and that made him think she wasn’t yet ready for such a big step.
Though her marriage had been rocky for years, it hadn’t officially ended that long ago. Conflicting feelings probably still plagued her. He believed she’d fallen out of love with her husband,ifshe’d ever truly loved him in the first place.
But divorce and death were two different things, both of them devastating to the emotions.
The last thing she needed was for him to try to tie her down with commitment.
He knew that, and he’d still unloaded his biggest issue on her. It shamed him. Not because he was human enough to care, but because of his priorities. When he had nightmares now, they weren’t about his abusive father or his mother passing away. He’d grown up with those realities. His dad had always been a mean bastard, and his mother had always suffered. Cort had despised his dad, loved his mom, but he’d lived with the reality that she could be gone at any time, because his father might go too far and kill her. When it came to his mother, what ate at him the most was that she’d finally found happiness, and then lost it to ill health.
If he could have saved her, he would have. He’d have done anything for her.
Yet those were all familiar feelings, ones he’d grown accustomed to and had learned to deal with.
Having twelve of his brothers die unexpectedly . . . that was the kind of shock that took out a guy’s knees. And Nathan . . . Cort closed his eyes.
Nathan had been the best of them. A comedian when you needed one, a listener when someone had to talk, quietly supportive no matter what. He’d had so much to live for.
