Page 6 of Hold the Line

It took her a beat, but she pulled herself together enough to smile. “Well, all right, Deacon. Hope you have a good day at work.”

“You too.” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she shouldn’t be walking alone in the dark, but I bit it back. She knew what she was doing, and this town was safer than most.

She raised her hands. “See you later.”

I gave her a nod as I rolled up my window. It went against my instincts, but as soon as she was clear, I reversed out of my spot and drove off, watching her disappear in my rearview. She’d probably been getting herself to work without my interference for years. She didn’t need my concern, andIdidn’t need to get caught up in thinking about what could happen to her out there on her own.

She’d be fine.

Besides, Phoebe Kelly was none of my business.

Chapter Four

Phoebe

Ialmostmissedtheenvelope partially stuffed under my welcome mat but stopped just before stepping on it. Bending down, I scooped it up and carried it into my apartment. It seemed I always had an armful when I got home from work.

Aprons and towels to throw in the laundry, my lunch box, laptop, and my hat and mittens were unloaded onto my kitchen island once I’d kicked off my shoes and wiggled my toes in my thick living room rug.

I flipped the envelope over to examine it. On the outside, scrawled in pencil, was the word “Sorry.” I frowned as I opened it, which turned into a full-on scowl at the stack of cash inside.

Deacon hadn’t bothered to sign his name, but there was no doubt this was from him. It was way too much money. Not that I wanted any amount of money from him, but this? No way. I wouldn’t accept it.

An apology for an honest mistake was all I’d needed, and he’d paid in full. We weren’t going to start our neighborly relationship like this.

Tossing his envelope aside, I pulled out a card and envelope and wrote my own note.

Deacon,

Your apology is accepted. No grudges are being held.

Welcome to the neighborhood!

If you ever change your mind about pastries or coffee, you know where to find me, and you can always count on me to have sugar if you need to borrow some.

Your neighbor,

Phoebe Kelly

He probably wouldn’t appreciate the handmade, pressed-flower notecard I’d bought from a paper artist at the town market last summer, but I wasn’t a plain stationery kind of girl, so he’d have to take it.

Once I placed his cash in the envelope, I slipped my feet in my furry slippers, tossed on a sweater, and walked upstairs to knock on his door.

Like yesterday, there were a few bangs and heavy footsteps before he answered. The flick of his eyes was quick but unmistakable. He’d looked me over then let his gaze linger on my braid resting on my shoulder.

“Hey, Deke. I got your envelope.”

He raised his eyes to mine. “That’s good. Let me know if it’s not enough.”

“You left me two hundred dollars. How could that not be enough?”

His shrug was lazy. “Don’t know how much things like that cost. Took a wild guess.”

“Well, it’s way too much and, like I told you, unnecessary. Accidents happen, you know? I’m not holding a grudge. In fact, I’d forgotten about it until I got home and spotted your apology envelope.”

His nostrils flared as he rocked back on his heels. In the beat of silence that stretched and stretched, I really looked at him, cataloging the changes in his face since I last saw him going on ten years ago.

As a teenager, he’d never had much softness about him, but now, he was rawboned and chiseled. Golden stubble sprouted along the sharp planes of his jaw and shadowed above his flattened mouth. His lashes were thick and pale. Like downy chick feathers, his neatly cut hair was somewhere between light brown and strawberry blond, and his cheeks had a pink tinge, like they’d been bitten by the wind.

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