Page 35 of Merry Mended Hearts

I was no veterinarian, but I knew a few herbal remedies for helping heal colic and other things horses faced. This shipment contained oils and herbs for the horses—and those weren’t exactly cheap. I cut across the tape sealing the box together while regret seeped into me.

“Expensive or not,” I mumbled, opening the box, “I shouldn’t have bitten her head off.”

Uncertainty stole over me one layer at a time. This wasn’t the first time I’d snapped at an unsuspecting recipient. I’d never been short-tempered before, but it seemed like more and more, anger was becoming my default setting. My recent conversations with Junie about the radio attempting to match me up with Grace didn’t help.

Why anger, though? What about me had changed? I’d only done what I could to keep to myself. To deal with Amy’s passing.

I was gentle and careful with the horses and with the children who came to the inn. But I’d gone and lost it on Grace not once, or even twice, but three times now. First, over the room, then the necklace, now this.

She must think I was a total bear.

I shook my head at that thought. What did I care what she or any other woman thought of me?

I didn’t care. I couldn’t. Especially not about her.

Once the supplies were put away, I got the keys to Aunt Meg’s truck and drove down into West Hills. It took some scraping to get all of the ice off of the windshield since we didn’t park the pickup in a garage or anything like that.

The drive down the mountain didn’t take as long as it did while steering the sleigh, which I often did to pick up guests who’d taken the shuttle from the airport in Billings to the tiny tourist town. The liked the full experience, as Junie called it. They were charmed by the fact that a horse-drawn sleigh was their transportation to an inn that the website claimed was America’s North Pole.

Guests ate up the story of Santa and the radio. Because the whole ordeal was outlined on the website, it often surprised me when guests arrived not knowing the origins of the radio or even its significance. It made me wonder if Grace knew.

She hadn’t said anything about it when the two of us had heard it play. And she’d seemed completely surprised to hear it when I’d been telling that small girl a few days ago. Had she not looked at the website for Harper’s Inn at all?

In any case, she was on my mind as I made my way to the small grocery store. The store didn’t quite fit the touristy feel of the other small shops along West Hills’ main street. It was too conventional, too modern, but I was glad it was there.

I picked up a carton of eggs, some bacon, produce, and a few steaks, as well as lunch meat, cheese, and bread. It wasn’t the gourmet food I’d find if I’d just do what Junie wanted and stay at the inn to help her with the guests.

Mason Devries knew how to cook, that was for sure. And he always put his talents to the max. But solitude was better. It was what I needed. Junie had to accept that.

With several grocery bags in hand, I made my way back out to the brown pickup only to pause. Across the street, where I usually parked the sleigh to pick up guests to take them up to the inn, was the gift shop.

I wasn’t sure what came over me. This wasn’t a place I typically frequented. It wasn’t like I needed t-shirts or keychains with the town name of West Hills on them. But still, the urge was there.

So I left the groceries in the pickup, crossed the street, and strode into Nick’s Nacks.

The place looked the same as it had the last time I’d come in. A table offering plush animals sat in the center, surrounded by stands of t-shirts and sweatshirts, displays offering postcards, keychains, and other things tourists usually like to pick up to commemorate their visits.

There was a new display near the front window, though, This one had a bear wearing a Santa hat and holding up a sign inviting people to check out America’s North Pole. In front of the bear there were several t-shirts with radios on them, others with pictures of cartoonish Santa Clauses and declaring the words, “I Believe.”

“That’s new,” I muttered, making my way to the displays.

But not why I’d come in here. I couldn’t get Grace something kitschy like that.

That thought stopped me in my tracks. Wait. What just came through my mind?

GetGracesomething?

That thought made my heart tromp like a whole herd of spooked horses. It almost made me bolt for the door, go back to my truck, and duck up the mountain with my tail between my legs.

Why shouldn’t I get her something, though? The truth was, I’d been a jerk to her. I didn’t know how she’d gotten that locket, and there was no way she could have known its significance to me. Even though she wouldn’t be staying at the inn long, I needed to make it right.

“Anything I can help you with, Boone?” Quinn asked from behind the register.

I waved to the woman, ducking my head, and shaking it all at the same time. “No, thanks. Just looking.”

Steeling my nerves, doing my best to play this off like I came into the gift shop every day, I began perusing. T-shirt? No. Not stuffed animals, either. I didn’t want to get her chocolates. I could get a nice card and write out my apology.

But even that sounded stupid in my head.

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