"Actually," Beau interrupts, "I think Jamie's got that covered. He mentioned something about having the new girl show me the ropes."
I blink. "New girl? What new girl?"
"Apparently they hired someone else this week. Some hotshot coordinator. Jamie seemed... interested in making sure she felt welcome."
I look at him sharply. "Interestedhow?"
Beau's smile turns wicked. "Let's just say I recognize that look. It's the same one I get when I see you in those work pants I'm so fond of."
"Oh my God!" I practically bounce in my seat. "Jamie's got a crush! This is huge! Do we know anything about her? Is she single? Is she staying in town? Does she know he's interested?"
"Slow down," Beau laughs. "All I know is her name's Dr. Brooke Shields, she's got some kind of fancy emergency medicine background. Jamie couldn't stop talking about her all morning.'"
I grin. "Sounds like someone's smitten."
"Sounds like someone's about to become the subject of extensive town gossip," Beau corrects. "Fair warning: Etta and Mabel are probably already planning their wedding."
Right on cue, Etta leans forward from the next table where she and Mabel have somehow positioned themselves to eavesdrop. "Did someone say wedding planning?"
"No!" Beau and I say in unison.
"We were talking about Jamie's—" I start, then catch myself. "Never mind."
But it's too late. Etta and Mabel exchange one of those looks that means they've just received classified intelligence of the highest order.
"Jamie Striker," Mabel muses thoughtfully. "Now there's a man who could use some proper settling down."
"Lovely boy," Etta agrees. "Just needs the right woman to appreciate his...qualities."
I catch Beau's eye and see him fighting laughter.
Welcome to Stone River Mountain, where your love life becomes community property the moment you show even the slightest romantic interest in another human being.
"Oh, that's going to be entertaining," Sienna laughs, re-joining us and also apparently hearing everything. "Jamie Striker attempting romance? This town's about to get very interesting."
"More interesting," Mabel corrects. "What with wedding season coming up and all."
"Whose wedding?" I ask suspiciously.
"Oh, you know," Etta waves vaguely, suspiciously eyeing Beau. "Someone's."
She's not even trying to be subtle anymore.
"We should probably get going," Beau says, clearly recognizing the signs of an impending matchmaking intervention.
We stand to leave, and I'm surprised when Betty pulls me into one of her famous hugs—the kind that smell like flour and vanilla and forever motherly approval.
"I'm proud of you, sweetheart," she whispers in my ear. "Look how far you've come."
The words hit me harder than they should, bringing unexpected tears to my eyes.
Because she's right.
Six weeks ago, I was a woman who didn't know her own worth, her own strength, her own capacity for love and happiness.
Now I'm a woman with a job I'm good at, a community that's claimed me, and a love that makes me braver and stronger and more myself than I've ever been.
"Thank you," I whisper back. "For believing in me before I believed in myself."