Page 53 of Return To You

“I’ll help you,” Alex tells her. Turning to me, she adds, “You should reach out to your clients and tell them what’s going on. Reassure them that no matter what, A Touch Of Grace will always be available to them in Emerald Creek. You don’t want false rumors to spread, and you never know—someone might come up with another idea.”

They leave one by one, hugging me tight and reassuring me that all will be okay.

And it will.

I know it will.

Because with friends like them, how could it not?

The morning starts busier than usual. We have walk-ins of people eager to support the spa with a side of gossip, and I’ll take it all. Luckily, all my staff is on deck. No last-minute childcare issue, breakup drama, uncooperating cars. Cheyenne is early, and she takes a walk-in for a simple manicure before her normal start time. Hope and Shanice brought chocolate maple candies to give to their guests after their facials. And Fabrizio, our hair and makeup artist, hugs me then declares, “After I get all these bitches ready for their wedding, you’re mine. Clear your evening.” Which doesn’t mean what you might think—simply that he’s decided I need the indulgence of the best hairdresser in the state (his claim to fame).

We have so much demand on Saturday, that I tell Claudia to open my scheduling for Sunday. A Touch Of Grace is open every day, but I let my staff decide if and which Sundays they want to work. As for me, I usually reserve my Sundays for my family, but right now? I can use all the business and all the distraction from the rest of my life.

Taking the last sip of coffee from the mug Ethan gave me, I take comfort in the knowledge that I’ll always have Emerald Creek.

Even if I’ll never have him.

When my phone rings and it’s Lucas telling me the guy he sent to fix my closet door thinks Damian is sick and should see the vet, I see that as a sign that my small town and the universe will always have my back.

Then I rush home.

fourteen

Ethan

Less than an hour later, I pull up to a cute little cape house, clean white siding, dark shutters, flowers in a hanging basket off the front steps. The key is under the fake rock right where Lucas said it would be.

The beauty of living in a small town, but also—seriously?

Whatever. I’m happy to have something to keep me busy.

The door opens without a creak. A cat jumps in front of me out of nowhere, then jumps on the back of a light gray couch, watching me.

The small living room faces French doors that open on a deck overlooking a small and colorful garden, pastures and forests extending beyond the rustic picket fence. I could see myself living in a place like this, someday. When I settle down. There’s something about the coziness and peacefulness. It’s unpretentious yet homey.

The cat hisses at me. “Easy there, tiger.” Crouching at his level, I extend my hand. He sniffs me hesitantly, then slits his eyes at me. I decide against trying to pet him.

Besides, I have a door to fix. As I turn to go down the hallway and find the bedroom, my eye catches on a series of photos set on the mantle.

I know these people.

And it makes sense. Small town.

But no. It’s more than that. There’s a photo of Colton. A photo of Shannon and Dennis.

And a collage of photos of a pudgy baby, a toddler with huge brown eyes, a little girl with a thick mane of black curls sitting on the lap of a woman with the same hair, the same smile, the same eyes.

My heart pounds loudly. I whip around. This isn’t Colton’s house. Colton wouldn’t have a pale gray couch, a white carpet… The Harpers? I know their house, and unless they’ve moved… I open the hallway closet. A woman’s shoes and coats neatly lined. A faint perfume I’ve become addicted to.

Grace.

I’m in Grace’s house.

I turn around and take in the rest of the space.

Small. Tidy. Apart from the pictures, totally impersonal.

It might as well be staged for an open house.

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