Page 2 of Valentine On Palmar Island

An hour later, Charlotte packed up her equipment, satisfied with the morning's shots. The dog followed her to her car, sitting patiently while she loaded her gear.

"You're not making this easy, are you?" she said, looking down at his hopeful expression. The sensible thing would be to drive away. She was here for work, not to adopt a stray dog. But something about his scruffy charm and immediate devotion tugged at her.

"Oh, well." Charlotte opened the passenger door. "Hop in. We'll stop by the vet first, make sure you're healthy. Then maybe pick up some supplies?" The dog jumped in as if he'd been waiting for the invitation all morning, turning in a circle before settling into the seat.

As Charlotte drove down Main Street, she glanced at her new companion. He'd already fallen asleep, his head resting on his paws, looking completely at home. Through her rearview mirror,she could see the Carroway Building getting smaller, but Grant's faint smile stayed with her.

Not a bad first day on the island, all things considered. She had some good shots, an unexpected dog, and the business card of a surprisingly handsome carpenter burning a hole in her pocket. Whatever else Palmar Island had in store for her, at least it wasn't boring.

"What should I call you?" she asked the sleeping dog. He opened one eye, his tail thumping against the seat. "Milo," she decided. "You look like a Milo."

The dog's tail thumped faster, and Charlotte laughed. "Milo it is, then. Welcome to the team."

Chapter Two

Grant ran his fingers over the carved wooden trim, feeling for any rough spots he might have missed. The late January wind whistled through the gaps in the Carroway Building's windows, but he barely noticed the cold. This piece needed to be perfect. The decorative molding was original to the building, and he'd spent the better part of a week carefully stripping away decades of paint to reveal the craftsman's handiwork underneath.

The sound of boots clicking on the hardwood floor behind him broke his concentration.

"Grant Lawson, please tell me you weren't planning to work straight through lunch again."

He turned to find Miss Doris approaching, a covered basket over one arm and determination in her steel-gray eyes. Her silver curls bounced with each step, and her wool coat was buttoned up against the chill.

"Miss Doris, you didn't have to?—"

"Of course I didn't have to." She set the basket down on his work table. "But someone needs to make sure you eat more than those protein bars you keep in your truck."

The rich smell of beef stew made his stomach growl. Grant set down his sandpaper and wiped his hands on a rag. "You're too good to me."

"I know." She unpacked the basket with practiced efficiency. She handed him a thermos of stew, fresh cornbread wrapped in a checkered cloth, and what looked suspiciously like her famous apple hand pies. "Now, tell me about this photographer who's been wandering around the island."

Grant paused with a spoonful of stew halfway to his mouth. "Charlotte Bennett?"

"Mm-hmm." Miss Doris settled onto the wooden chair he kept for breaks, smoothing her skirt. "Evelyn Sutton told me all about the coffee table book. Says it'll be wonderful publicity for the island."

“Does she now?” He should have known that the wealthy head of the Sutton Corporation would be in touch with Miss Doris. They were practically neighbors on the rare occasions Evelyn was on the island. Her children on the other hand practically lived here.

"Ms. Bennet seems to know what she's doing." Grant broke off a piece of cornbread. "Has a good eye for detail."

"And what else?"

"What do you mean, what else?"

Miss Doris's eyes twinkled. "Well, she's a pretty little thing, isn't she? Creative too, from what I hear. The kind of person who might appreciate all this history you're always going on about."

"Miss Doris, don’t be getting any ideas." Grant tried to sound stern, but it was hard to be stern with someone who'd been feeding him since he was knee-high. "I'm helping her navigate the restoration sites. That’s all. It's my job to make sure these buildings are protected."

"Of course it is, dear." She patted his arm. "Just like it's my job to make sure you don't work yourself into an early grave.Speaking of which, I heard she adopted that stray dog that's always following you around. Took it to the vet and everything."

Grant smiled despite himself. "He took to her right away."

"Smart dog." Miss Doris rose, gathering her basket. "You know, the Pelican Inn's next on her list. The way I hear it, she’ll be there this afternoon to photograph the parlor."

"Is that so?" Grant kept his tone neutral, but Miss Doris's raised eyebrow told him he wasn't fooling anyone.

"The front steps could use some attention," she said innocently. "In case you were looking for somewhere to be useful today."

After she left, Grant found himself staring at the piece of trim in his hands. Charlotte had noticed things about the Carroway Building that most people missed—the way the morning light hit the carved details, the subtle patterns in the brickwork. She saw the island the way he did, but through a different lens.

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