But he understood the danger of wanting to be with Grace. Understood the threat Grace posed to his equilibrium. Becoming used to Grace’s embrace would only make him want more. Make him feel more. And feeling too much always led to heartache.
“This is the last time I’m passing along any messages for you.” Katie slapped her hand on his chest, and trapped between her palm and his shirt were several notes. “Tell your patients to call your cell phone and stop clogging up the ranch phone line. We need that line to stay open for new bookings.”
“I don’t have patients,” Ethan said.
“Looks like you do now.” Katie smiled. “Just make sure those house pets don’t interfere with the ranch. You’re here to help save Blackwell, not the town.”
As Katie turned away, Ethan scrambled to catch the scraps of paper floating to the dirt. He glanced over the notes, recognized the names, most he’d known all his life. He’d call them back because his mother had taught him manners and he’d suggest they consult with a licensed vet in the area.
But shortly after an exchange of greetings with Mrs. Hatfield, who invited him over for dinner and explained she only wanted advice from a trusted family friend, the conversation derailed. Four more calls later and four more “appeals for advice from a friend,” Ethan had dinner, lunch meet-ups and one pie date arranged, along with one early-morning coffee meeting. The good news: he’d be too busy visiting friends and neighbors, and could leave Grace alone to untangle the ranch accounts.
* * *
GRACE UNWRAPPED ANOTHER mint to quiet her stomach. Three hours past lunch and her buttered toast hadn’t settled. She left her dad sorting a shipment of cat food in the warehouse and walked to the storefront, passing her office. She wanted to sit down and prop her feet on her desk. Five minutes. Ten at the most. She needed that much after Ethan’s unexpected arrival earlier.
His confident presence had filled the space even though he’d remained near her door as if he’d been in a hurry to leave. As if he believed sleeping with her had been a mistake. Still, she’d forgotten how reliable his shoulders looked. But would Ethan be a reliable dad? Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, she could find her balance. Surely, she’d be a reliable mother and that was all that mattered.
Fortunately, Trina Matthews, one of their employees, called out her name from the feed section with a question about the difference between alfalfa varieties. En route to Trina, Grace paused to assist Mrs. Timmerman with her sheet selection in housewares. Grace pulled a set of jersey sheets from a high shelf and explained she had the very same ones on her own bed. She didn’t mention it was her twin bed from high school. Leaving Mrs. Timmerman to decide between the heather-gray or navy sheet sets, Grace decided she really needed to upgrade her bed to at least a full. After all she was going to be a mom soon enough.
Finished sorting the Timothy-Alfalfa from the Orchard-Alfalfa, Grace turned toward her office, but her mother’s shout redirected her to the cash register.
Her mom handed her the handheld register scanner. “It’s acting up and Todd has a rather large order.”
Grace checked the scanner connections and handed it to her sister. “Should be fine now.”
“There are several customers waiting.” Their mother tugged the scanner from Sarah Ashley’s grip and thrust it back at Grace. “You have more practice on the register.”
Sarah Ashley wouldn’t get practice if their mother wouldn’t let her work. Grace gripped the scanner and greeted Todd Webster. “Let’s get you checked out and on your way.”
Grace was hoping for a speedy exit herself, but her mother had other ideas. “When you finish here, your dad needs you in the warehouse. The shipment for lawn and garden is arriving early and the plants need to be sorted and priced.”
“I can handle that,” Sarah Ashley offered. Her easygoing tone matched her relaxed smile, but her narrowed gaze challenged their mother to come up with a good reason to deny her.
But their mother had brought up three daughters without ever raising her voice and perfected the art of misdirection. “Grace can handle it. Did you know Ethan Blackwell was in the store this morning?”
Sarah Ashley flashed her three-carat, square-cut diamond ring at their mother. “I’m married now.”
“Married, but living with your parents,” said their father, who trundled past, looking over his glasses at them as he pushed a cart loaded with potting soil toward the garden section. “Without your husband.”
Mom set her hand on Sarah Ashley’s arm. “Your dad is frustrated. You know we’d do anything to make you happy.”
“This needs more than an antiseptic wipe and bandage.” Sarah Ashley carefully wrapped a ceramic pot in paper, bagged it and handed it to their last customer.
“If you’d talk to us, Sarah Ashley, we could help,” their mom said.
“I know.” Sarah Ashley straightened the pencils in the tin can holder until every tip faced down and then looked at them. “But this is something I have to do on my own.”
Grace wasn’t certain what her sister meant by this. She’d caught Sarah Ashley on the computer once, searching for online business classes. Every night she overheard her sister tell her husband that she wasn’t ready to come home yet.
All seemed fine, but Sarah Ashley never did anything without someone to lean on, be it their parents, her best friends or ex-boyfriends. Sarah Ashley never used to spend more than five minutes in the store on any given day until now, and now Grace was always cleaning up after her sister’s screwups.
“Just remember, you have family who are always here for you.” Their mother nodded at Grace.
Grace’s smile felt stiff and false. She tried harder, but her family didn’t ever rely on Sarah Ashley. They only ever relied on Grace and she’d never minded. Until now. She wanted to step out on her own and start her business. But how would they get along at the store without her? How could she abandon her family and then expect them to help when the baby arrived? Her baby with her sister’s ex-boyfriend. Her stomach dropped to her toes as if she’d been caught skimming from the cash register.
“Thanks, Mom.” Sarah Ashley hugged their mother. Alice Gardner was a petite, farm-raised powerhouse while Sarah Ashley was tall, her movements fluid like a dancer’s. Sarah Ashley looked like she should be twirling around a candle-lit ballroom in a waltz, not stacking bags of fertilizer. “I’m here now and happy to work.”
Their mother searched the store as if seeking an intervention from the mannequins. The resident store cat, Whiskers, meowed and rubbed on the edge of the counter. Their mother grabbed the large gray cat like he was the answer to her lifelong quest. “Your sister already inventoried the pet supplies and women’s attire. We’ll tackle the staff schedule and payroll next, after we place several reorders.”
Sarah Ashley smiled and nodded. “I can help with that.”
“Grace has always taken care of that with me.” Their mom handed Whiskers to Sarah Ashley. “Why don’t you check on your grandfather and his friends? Make sure they have enough sweet tea and water. Then you can wash off the stools on the porch.”
Sarah Ashley eyed her mother and frowned as if she’d been asked to sit at the kids’ table for Christmas dinner and sip sparkling cider. “You want me to wash the milk cans? No one ever does that, and shouldn’t Pops and his friends get their own drinks? You’re always saying that it isn’t good for them to sit all day.”
Their mother looked