Honor

already cold and damp.”
His gaze once again on the sea, he nodded and let her go.
Inside, Lacey found the refrigerator already well stocked with groceries, including a container of clam chowder left by the caretaker with a note saying it was from his grandmother. She poured it into a cast iron kettle on the stove, turned the flame on low and went to check more thoroughly on the rest of the house.
Everything had been readied for them. A fire had been laid and extra wood was stacked beside the hearth. Without the salty haze that would be back again within hours, the just-washed windows glistened with the last soft rays of sunlight. The wide plank floors had been rubbed to a soft glow, the furniture polished with something that smelled of lemons.
Best of all, a huge basket of her favorite spring flowers—daffodils, tulips and lily of the valley—added a cheerful finishing touch. Brandon’s romantic idea, no doubt.
If Lacey hadn’t known how long the house had stood empty, she might have believed she and Kevin had been here only yesterday. As it was, she hadn’t been able to bear more than a quick day trip now and again. Alone, she had been all too vividly reminded of what she and Kevin had lost. The ache in her heart had been too much so she had never lingered.
Now she touched the automatic lighter to the kindling in the fireplace. Within minutes the flames had caught and a cozy warmth stole through the chilly room.
Back in the kitchen she grabbed a handful of silver and a pair of placemats and set places on the coffee table in front of the fire. When they were here alone, they rarely ate in the formal dining room or even in the huge old kitchen, preferring the intimacy of meals in front of the fire’s warmth. Only on the hottest days of summer did the routine vary and then they moved to the beach, where they could listen to the waves and watch the stars as they ate by candlelight.
Kevin came in just as she was pulling a loaf of crusty, homemade bread from the oven. His eyes lit up as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, coming closer to sniff the wonderful aroma.
“Mrs. Renfield’s homemade bread,” she confirmed. “And her New England clam chowder. Your favorites.”
“What can I do to help?”
“If you’ll take the bread in, I’ll bring the soup. That should do it.”
“I don’t suppose she left one of her peach pies in the refrigerator.”
“Sorry,” Lacey said, amused at his immediately disappointed expression. “Looks like a cherry cobbler to me. And don’t tell me you didn’t know perfectly well that she was going to leave all this for you. You probably called her up and pleaded with her.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Then you had Jason do it.”
He grinned at her. “Okay, maybe I did suggest he drop a few hints.”
“Are you sure he didn’t do more than that?”
“Such as?”
“Sending her a few bolts of that outrageously expensive fabric she loves so much.”
Kevin grinned guiltily. “A few yards, not a few bolts.”
“Do you realize that that seventy-five-year-old grandmother uses that cloth to whip up fancy pot holders for the church bazaar?”
“She does not,” he said, his expression clearly scandalized at the waste.
Lacey picked up one of the pot holders she’d used to carry in the steaming bowls of chowder. “Recognize this?”
Kevin groaned. “Oh, dear Lord. Don’t ever let Dad see that.”
“Too late. He bought up every one she had at the bazaar last year. He was terrified one of Halloran’s customers would see them and realize they were designing ball gowns made out of the same material.”
Lacey felt her lips curving into a smile as Kevin’s laughter bubbled forth. It had been so long since she’d heard him sound genuinely happy.
“Can you imagine Miriam Grayson discovering that her latest couture creation matched Mrs. Renfield’s pot holders?” Kevin said, still chuckling. “Her designer would wind up skewered with one of her lethal, pearl-tipped hat pins.”
“I believe Brandon mentioned the same scenario. For about thirty seconds he actually seemed tempted to risk it.”
“I’m not surprised. Old Miriam is a pompous pain in the you-know-what. However, her designer is one of Halloran’s best customers. Dad obviously had second thoughts the minute he envisioned the impact on the company’s bottom line.”
As silly and inconsequential as the conversation was, Lacey couldn’t help thinking it was the first time in months that she and Kevin had actually shared so much carefree laughter. She would have to remember to thank Mrs. Renfield by slipping her a few yards of that emerald-green silk that would go so well with her bright eyes—after warning her to use it on a dress, not pot holders.
The tone of the evening seemed set after that. Kevin and Lacey reminisced about other trips and other neighbors. They recalled clam bakes and bake sales, art festivals and favorite restaurants. Here, unlike Boston, they had always felt part of the quiet, casual rhythm of the community, had had time for neighborly visits and lingering over tea.
Lacey felt Kevin’s gaze on her and regarded him quizzically. “What?”
“This is the way I always think of you,” he said, brushing a strand of her hair back and letting it spill through his fingers.
“How?” she said. Her breath caught in her throat as her pulse scrambled wildly.
“The firelight in your hair, your eyes sparkling, a smile on your lips. Are you happy to be here, Lacey?”
Unable to speak, she simply nodded.
“With me?”
That question was more difficult to answer honestly. Being here with Kevin was bittersweet at best. She could almost believe things were perfect. Almost.
And then she would remember.
He sighed. “Obviously, I shouldn’t have pressed,” he said, his voice tight.
Stricken by the hurt in his eyes, she said, “Kevin, this isn’t a quick fix. It’s a beginning.”
He nodded, then stood up. “I’m more tired than I thought.”
Lacey started