Page 111 of The Guest Cottage

When she reached Sandra, she said, “Hello, again.”

Sandra glanced at Cort, then away. “I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to see you again.”

“I don’t mind.” She smiled up at Cort. “Sandra, this is Mr. Easton. Cort, this is my mother-in-law, Mrs. Heddings.” Bracing herself for an explosion, Marlow stated, “Cort and I are together now.”

Sandra hesitated only a second. “I see.” She glanced away, and then her gaze lifted. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Easton.”

How about that? Progress.

Cort nodded. “Mrs. Heddings.”

“I should apologize to you as well,” Sandra continued. “The way I behaved on my last visit . . .” Words failed her for a moment. “I won’t make excuses. Just know that I regret it a great deal.”

Visibly relaxing, Cort said, “I assume this visit will be different.”

Marlow appreciated his compassion. “If you don’t mind, Cort, I’d like to talk to Sandra alone.”

He said, “I’ll sit right over there.” Meaning close, and where he could see her.

Marlow indicated a table to Sandra. “I have a few minutes before I start my shift. Should we sit?”

Letting out a breath, Sandra drummed up a strained smile. “Please.”

So far, everything seemed to be going well. After Sandra took a chair, Marlow settled across from her, keeping her back to everyone else. This would be easier if she didn’t have to see everyone gawking at her. Again.

Pleasant expression in place, Marlow rested her hands on the tabletop. “Is Aston with you?”

“I left him at a bar outside of this little . . . village. I wanted to see you alone, to talk personally, woman to woman.” Faint lines bracketed her mouth. “If there was anywhere nice to stay overnight, I’d have come alone. Instead, we’ll drive back to Louisville for the night, then head home tomorrow.”

A lot of explanation—that told Marlow very little. “How are you, Sandra?”

Seconds ticked by, emphasizing the silence of the tavern, until finally Sandra whispered, “A mess, actually.” Her spine seemed to droop, her head bowing. “I don’t have the words to tell you how sorry I am.”

It was an olive branch, one Marlow accepted. “I understand. I know that losing Dylan has been difficult.”

“Impossible, really,” Sandra admitted softly. “I can’t imagine anything worse. Not losing Aston. Not losing the business.” Her nostrils flared, her lips trembling. “It would have been easier to give up my own life.”

Marlow felt her pain as an ache in her own heart. “I’m so sorry.” Her whispered words weren’t adequate, but what would be?

Again, time stretched out. Murmurs began in the tavern, and slowly conversation returned. Herman came by, so Marlow guessed he was the reason everyone was attempting to carry on. Bless the man, she really did adore him.

Looking only at Marlow, he asked, “Would you like a drink?”

Grateful for the interruption of the awkward, emotionally laden moment, she smiled. “Since I have ten minutes left, I would. A cola with plenty of ice, please.” She addressed Sandra. “You?”

“I’ll have the same.” Her hands clenched together, but she said to Herman, “Thank you.”

With a nod, Herman meandered away, his reluctance to leave her alone apparent to everyone. Hoping to lighten the moment, Marlow said, “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Sandra cracked a small smile, too. “I didn’t think he’d leave us otherwise.”

“Probably not. He’s protective. Everyone here is—even though I don’t need protecting.”

“Not from me,” Sandra assured her, and she sounded as if she meant it. “Even before that . . . mistake, I didn’t make a very good impression.”

“You were verbally aggressive,” Marlow agreed. “I understand that you were hurting, but these people don’t know you. They may seem laid-back, but they’re all loyal to each other.”

“And to you?”

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