Page 15 of Valentine On Palmar Island

"It's not that simple." Grant stood, walking to the porch railing. Below, the garden he'd never quite gotten around tomaintaining was showing the first hints of spring. "She has a whole life, a career. I can't ask her to give that up."

"Did she say that's what it would mean?"

"No, but?—"

"Then maybe you should let her decide what she's willing to give up. Or change." Miss Doris rose, gathering her basket. "You know, when my husband first asked me to marry him, my mama thought I was crazy to consider it. Said I'd be giving up my whole future."

Grant turned to look at her. In forty years of knowing Miss Doris, he'd never heard this story.

"But you did it anyway?"

"Best decision I ever made." She smiled, the morning sun catching her silver curls. "Sometimes the future you're afraid of losing isn't half as precious as the one you're afraid to choose."

She patted his cheek as she passed. "Think about it, dear. And tell Charlotte those winter roses she photographed at Indigo Bluff? They're nothing compared to what my garden will look like come spring. In case she's wondering about the changing seasons here."

Grant watched Miss Doris's car disappear around the corner, her words echoing in his mind. The harbor bells rang in the distance, marking the hour. Another work day was starting. He had doors to restore, buildings to save.

But for the first time in his life, preserving the past didn't feel like enough. He wanted to build something new. Something with Charlotte.

He looked down at his coffee, now gone cold, and made himself face a cold, hard truth. He was in love with her. Completely, terrifyingly in love. And whether she stayed or went, that fact wouldn't change.

The morning sun climbed higher, warming the old wooden boards beneath his feet. Somewhere on the island, Charlotte wasprobably already up, camera in hand, finding beauty in things he'd seen a thousand times before. Making his home feel new again, just by being in it.

Grant stood, ready to start his day. Whatever Charlotte decided, he'd support her. But Miss Doris was right. He had to let her make that choice herself.

Even if waiting for her answer felt like holding his breath underwater, hoping the surface wasn't too far away.

Grant was working on the Thompson house doors when he heard the crunch of tires on gravel for the second time today. His hands stilled on the sandpaper as Milo's familiar bark echoed through the workshop. Charlotte's car door slammed, and Grant's heart kicked against his ribs.

Through the open workshop door, he watched her approach. She wore jeans and that blue sweater he loved, her camera bag slung over one shoulder. But it was the look in her eyes that made him set down his tools. It was a mixture of determination and something else he couldn't quite read.

"Hey," she said, hovering in the doorway. Afternoon sun streamed around her, catching gold highlights in her dark hair.

"Hey." He wiped his hands on a rag, buying time. "Didn't expect to see you today."

"I've been thinking." She stepped into the workshop, Milo trotting behind her. The dog immediately went to his usual spot near Grant's workbench, clearly at home among the sawdust and wood shavings.

"Sounds serious." Grant tried for a light tone, but his voice came out rough.

Charlotte set her camera bag on his work table, careful to avoid the scattered tools and brass fittings. "I had a meeting this morning with Evelyn Sutton."

Grant's stomach clenched. This was it. She was going to tell him about her next assignment, her next destination. He leaned back against his workbench, trying to prepare himself.

"She introduced me to someone from the historical society," Charlotte continued. She was fidgeting with her camera strap, a habit he'd noticed when she was nervous. "They're looking for someone to document the island's restoration projects. Create a permanent record of the work being done here."

Grant's breath caught. "Charlotte?—"

"Let me finish?" She stepped closer, close enough that he caught the scent of her shampoo mixing with the workshop's familiar smells of wood and varnish. "I've spent so many years chasing the next project, the next story. Always searching for something I couldn't quite name." Her voice softened. "But then I came here, and you showed me all these beautiful old places. You taught me how to see the stories in every brick, every carved detail."

She reached for his hand, her fingers sliding between his. "And somewhere between that first morning at the Carroway Building and last night at the cove, I realized something. I wasn't just photographing a place anymore. I was finding my way home."

Grant's heart thundered in his chest. "Are you saying?—"

"I'm staying." She smiled, and his whole world brightened. "The historical society job is perfect. I can still travel sometimes for other projects, but Palmar will be my base. My home." She squeezed his hand. "If that's okay with you."

Instead of answering, Grant pulled her closer. His hands found her waist as hers slid up his chest. When he kissed her, he tried to pour everything he was feeling into it. His joy, his relief,his love. Charlotte made a soft sound against his mouth and pressed closer.

A wet nose nudged their joined hands, followed by an impatient whine.

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