Her Very Own Family. Trish Milburn

them.”

      They started down the aisle as Brady shook his head once. “Sounds like it makes for terrible sleeping.”

      “I’m not a very restful sleeper anyway.”

      At least not since her life had been turned upside down and inside out more than a year ago. That memory dampened her enthusiasm, so she headed for the outdoor part of the garden center, hoping that immersing herself in colorful, fragrant flowers would lift her mood again.

      As they moved up and down the aisles, she selected several flats of impatiens in a variety of bright colors, a couple of gorgeous hanging baskets filled with purple petunias and a rose trellis for the bush she’d noticed at the back of the mill.

      “You know, if you’re going to put that gazebo in the creek bend, you might want to make a stone path to it from the drive, for when the ground is wet.” Brady pointed out shelves filled with different-colored stepping-stones.

      Another unexpected expense, the type she suspected Brady wouldn’t think twice about, but a good idea nonetheless. “So, what do you think, the gray or the red?”

      Brady ran his fingers over the surface of the rock slabs in question, and an unexpected warmth flowed along Audrey’s arms at the thought of those long fingers doing the same thing to her skin.

      Maybe she had stayed in the sun too long that morning and baked her brain. She felt like she was experiencing Brady overload. She’d caught herself snatching glimpses of him ever since they’d arrived at the store, glimpses she didn’t dare in the car because he would have noticed. But each time she looked at him, the more attractive he became. The archetypal sexy carpenter. She wondered if he looked as good as she imagined in nothing but a pair of jeans and a tool belt.

      What was wrong with her? Hadn’t Darren’s desertion taught her anything?

      But Brady wasn’t Darren.

      Still, she couldn’t risk getting too involved, not when it could put everything she had and was trying to build at risk.

      “The gray.”

      “Huh?” Audrey zipped back from Fantasy World and stared at Brady, wondering what he was talking about.

      “The stepping-stones.” He pointed. When she didn’t react, he pecked against the stone with his fingertip. “Hello?”

      “Oh, yeah. I think you’re right. They’ll go better with the surroundings. That’s way down the list of priorities though.”

      “Where were you a moment ago?”

      “Sorry, brief side trip to la-la land.” Trying to dispel the jittery feeling threatening to overtake her, she took a few steps away from Brady and grabbed two pairs of gardening gloves hanging from a shelf. “You finished with your business?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Well, hello there,” a silver-haired lady said as she guided her cart up next to theirs.

      “Hi, Miss Brenda,” Brady said as he gave the woman a quick hug. “How are you?”

      “If I was any better, I don’t know how I’d be able to stand it,” she said with a big smile. She looked at Audrey. “Are you a friend of Brady’s?”

      “This is Audrey York,” Brady said. “Dad and I are doing some work for her. Audrey, this is Brenda Phillips. She was my sixth-grade teacher.”

      “Oh, you must be the little gal who bought the old mill,” Brenda said. “I’ve got to tell you, the ladies at church are already twittering about that.”

      Audrey’s breath caught. But if this woman knew who she really was, why would she be smiling and acting friendly?

      “It’ll be so nice to have someplace quaint to have lunch with the girls,” Miss Brenda said, giving Audrey’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You need to come to service next Sunday, meet all the ladies. Good way to start getting to know your neighbors and potential customers.”

      Audrey managed a smile. “Thank you for the invitation.” Though the idea of stepping back into a church left her cold. Of course, that was due to what had happened with her mother and not the church itself.

      “Well, I best be getting home.” Miss Brenda pointed at the items in her cart. “Sam is anxious to get these plants in the ground.” With another genuine smile and a wave, Brenda headed for the checkout.

      “She’s a bit of a whirlwind, isn’t she?” Brady said.

      “You could say that.”

      Brady laughed a little at what must be her stunned expression then pushed their shopping cart toward the front of the store, too.

      Audrey eyed the items in the cart. Boy, had she gone overboard.

      “Don’t worry. We’ll make it all fit,” Brady said, guessing at her thoughts.

      They did, barely. The trellis stuck out of the tied-down trunk, and flowers appeared to have taken root in her backseat.

      Brady looked across the top of the car at her. “You hungry?”

      “Yeah, but let’s do lunch on the cheap. I’m pretty sure I just heard my credit card whimper.”

      “Pal’s, it is.” He bumped his knuckles against the car’s roof.

      “Pal’s?”

      He eyed her with disbelief. “You haven’t been there yet?”

      “No, should I have?”

      “You haven’t lived until you’ve had a Pal’s chipped ham and cheese sandwich and seasoned fries.”

      She uttered a little laugh. “Well, I certainly want to live.”

      “Get in the car and drive, then, woman.”

      Brady directed her to a spot on Elk Avenue. She laughed when she caught sight of the blue concrete-block building with a giant hot dog, fries and drink cup on the roof.

      “Don’t let the outside fool you,” Brady said. “Eat Pal’s once and you’re a slave to it for life.”

      Audrey gave the structure a doubtful look. “If you say so.”

      They ordered on one side of the building then drove around to the other to pay and get their food. Her stomach growled when she handed the bag to Brady.

      “See, your stomach knows good food is in the vicinity. Drive down the street. We can eat at the park.”

      The park ended up being Sycamore Shoals State Park, complete with a reconstructed eighteenth-century fort. With the beautiful, late-May day as a backdrop, the slice of the area’s history captured Audrey’s fascination.

      “I wish I’d brought my camera,” she said.

      “You can come back when they’re doing garrison weekends. Seems more like you’re stepping into history with everyone dressed in costume.”