Page 120 of The Lost Book of First Loves

June glanced at Beck for advice, but he only shrugged.

“What if we find out the initial results were wrong? I would hate to put your grandmother through all that drama for nothing.”

“I know they’re not wrong. But okay. We can wait. If keeping everything a secret from her would make dinner too awkward, I can tell Grandma you had other plans.”

Grandma. Was it possible Loretta was hers? June had never known any of her grandparents.

A sudden fierce yearning seemed to blossom out of nowhere. She already liked Loretta and would love having her for a grandmother.

She cleared sudden emotion out of her throat. “I’m sure it won’t be too awkward. I would be happy to come to dinner. Thank you for the invitation.”

Alison brightened. “Great. And you know you’re always invited to dinner at our place, Beck. She would love to have you, too. The more, the merrier, Grandma always says.”

He looked undecided until June sent him a pleading look. Everything felt easier when Beck was there, offering his quiet strength and support.

“Dinner would be good. Thanks. What time?”

“An hour or so, maybe? It’s ready whenever. She’s making marinated shrimp and vegetable skewers over brown rice. She only has to throw the skewers on the grill whenever we get there.”

“Sounds delicious,” Beck said. “I need to finish helping June clean up our mess first. I don’t want to leave her to put all these back on her own.”

Alison looked at the remaining boxes stacked in the living area. “You’ve been looking for the lost manuscript again. Any luck?”

June refused to give up, despite their disappointing search. “Not yet.”

Alison stayed long enough to join them in carrying the boxes back to the storeroom, then headed for the ranch house to help her grandmother with dinner preparations.

“I’ll take Hank home and clean up a little,” Beck said. “I can pick you up in an hour, if you’d like.”

From her perspective, he didn’t need to clean up at all. He was devastating enough.

Her stupid, stupid heart.

“I think I would like to walk. Thank you, though.”

He nodded and headed for the door. Before leaving, he turned around one last time. “I really am sorry we didn’t find the manuscript, Junie. I know it would have meant a lot to you.”

He left before she could answer—but not before she felt a pang at the nickname only her mother had ever called her.

After taking a quick shower and changing into a nicer outfit than the one she had worn to sort through dusty boxes, she quickly threw together a fruit salad from some of the items she had on hand and then headed through the aspen and pine toward the ranch house.

Alison opened the door only seconds after June rang the doorbell. “You didn’t have to bring anything!” she said when she saw the bowl in June’s hands.

“It’s only a fruit salad. Not much.”

“Well, thank you. That was sweet of you. Come in. Beckett’s not with you?”

“Um, no. He took his dog home and said he would be here soon.”

“He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s been very kind to me.”

Alison studied her. “Do you know what happened to his wife?” she asked after a pause, as if she had been debating whether to say anything.

“Yes. We talked about it.”

Alison looked surprised. “Did he? He must really like you. He doesn’t tell many people. I don’t think there are very many people in town who even know.”

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