Page 22 of Love Story

“Thanks, Aunt Harriet,” I said as I finished my coffee.

“For breakfast?”she teased.“Or for something to do?”

“Both.”

THE CRUNCH OFsnow underfoot was the only sound between us as Harriet and I walked to the library.It was a five-minute walk, and I offered Aunt Harriet my arm.

“I don’t mind this at all—on the arm of such a handsome young man.”

I snorted but didn’t argue.Harriet had a way of delivering compliments that made you believe them, even if you weren’t used to hearing them.The air was crisp with the kind of icy cold that stung your nose but felt refreshing.Harriet, bundled up in her usual scarf and hat, walked beside me, her breath puffing out in small clouds.

“So,” she began, her tone casual, which I didn’t trust.“I heard you ran into Sam Caldwell at the grocery store.”

I glanced at her.Why didn’t it surprise me that she knew that?“How’d you know about that?”

She gave me a knowing smile.“I’m in the same crafting circle as his mother, Melanie.She mentioned it yesterday in the group chat.”

“Of course,” I muttered, shaking my head.“Small towns.”

Harriet chuckled.“Sam’s a lovely young man, you know.Polite, hardworking.He runs the maple farm with his parents.It’s no small feat, especially this time of year.”

I nodded, unsure where this was going but feeling cornered.

“He’s only nine years younger than you,” she continued.“Good future ahead of him.And from what Melanie says, he’s not in a relationship.”

I glanced sideways at her, catching the subtle twinkle in her eye.“Are you matchmaking, Aunt Harriet?”

She shrugged, unbothered.“I’m just saying, he’s a catch.A kind soul too.He and his friends have helped me more than once when I needed something fixed around the house.”

“He seems nice,” I admitted carefully.

“He’s more than nice,” she said.“Also, he likes boys, the same as you, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

Heat crept up the back of my neck.“That’s not—It’s not about that,” I stammered.“I just… honestly, I don’t know how long I’m staying here, Aunt Harriet.”

She stopped walking, turning to face me.Her expression softened, her usual bluntness giving way to something gentler.“I know, Ben.But what’s waiting for you back in the city?You said the firm has let you go, I haven’t seen any friends checking in, and you say you’re not with whatshisname.”

“Owen,” I corrected.

She shook her head.“Who would let you go?”

Someone who wanted me for my money?I didn’t say that out loud because that fact embarrassed me.I thought I’d had something with Owen, and it had been yet more smoke and mirrors.

“Maybe it’s time to stop thinking about how long you’re staying and start thinking about what makes you happy.Think about it, okay?”

The tech experts finding my original audits, clearing my name, and not having a sword hanging over my neck would make me happy.

I nodded, unable to meet her gaze.“Okay,” I said and started to walk again.

The library loomed ahead, and Harriet didn’t push further, but her words lingered.

When we reached the library, I stopped before it, letting go of Harriet’s arm so she could lead the way.The building was a beautiful mashup from different centuries of stone and wood blended in a way that shouldn’t have worked but did—a place that felt as if it had grown naturally over time, each addition telling its own story.

“It’s one of the oldest buildings in Caldwell Crossing,” Harriet said, pride clear in her voice.“Built by Samuel P.Caldwell, founder of the town and your Sam’s great-great-grandfather.”

“He’s notmySam.”

She squeezed my arm.“Sorry, I misspoke,” she said, although the glint in her eye suggested the use of the word had been deliberate.

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