Page 110 of Merry Mended Hearts

“That doesn’t mean it was a mistake,” Mom said firmly and with gusto. She even pressed her finger to the table as if to emphasize her point. “Maybe he just needs more time to adjust to having someone close to him again.”

I sniffed. I appreciated Mom’s unapologetic insight, but I wasn’t sure I could completely agree. There had to be a reason Boone continued to pull away from me.

“Maybe we proved the point,” I said. “Maybe he’s better off being on his own, without anyone to love in his life.”

I didn’t want to accept it, but that was the only solution that hurt the least. While waiting for Mom’s reply, I took another bite.

“Would you want that for yourself?” Mom’s gaze was too direct.

I squirmed slightly under its focus.

“You know I wouldn’t.”

Much as I loved my introverted life as a writer, I missed the bustle of the inn, the feeling of coming to life I’d experienced the instant I’d set foot inside. And if I was still there, I wouldn’t want to hide away. I’d want to be with those I loved most.

The bite of bread turned to dust in my mouth. I lost my appetite and placed what was left of my sandwich on its foil.

Mom’s hand reached over and grasped mine across the table. “You don’t have to stay here, Grace. Go back to West Hills. Find a job there. Write your books. If Santa’s radio pushed you to him, there has to be a reason.”

I stared at our joined hands for several long seconds before I met Mom’s kind gaze.

“You mean, you believe me?”

Mom pulled her hand away and sat up with a knowing smile. “How else do you explain what you two both heard? Sounds to me like you were given a nudge. Now, the rest is up to you.”

There was a glaring flaw in her words.

“Mom. You could barely stand to have me gone over Christmas break. How can you handle having me so far away?”

“I was only saying that because it was Christmas. I’ll be okay. I’ve got your dad.”

That argument wasn’t entirely true. She’d just spent the first part of our meal telling me about how much she missed him.

“Mom…”

“This isn’t about me,” she said. “I know you loved it there. That’s the one thing I’ve been able to get to tell me.” She laughed at this. “I also know you hate your job.”

“Yeah, but it’s a job. I need it.”

Mom waved this off, too. “There are plenty of jobs to be found. Go. Find your life. Make sure it’s the life you dream of because something tells me that life isn’t here.”

My heart threatened to burst from my chest. I waited for other aspects to burble to the surface, other reasons I shouldn’t. But none came.

I finished my sandwich with more fervor this time, with excitement. And just before heading home, I pulled Mom into the biggest hug we’d shared in a while.

“Thank you for this,” I said, breathing in her scent of floral soap. “For everything.”

Mom beamed at me. Her gaze held the same adoring glint it had always had. A glint of pride. Or gratitude that I was her daughter.

“Of course,” Mom said. “Just make sure you keep me in the loop. I want to know how things go.”

“I will.”

Everything Mom said during dinner felt so right. I’d never believed in magic before, but that entire situation in Montana had made a believer out of me.

Could I do it? Quit my job, pack up, and move to the place where Boone was?

Would he leave if I did? Would he give me another chance?

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