As she stood, so did he.

He stepped closer. “Oh, hey, so…you seemed like you wanted to ask me

some stuff earlier. About your proposal?”

She waved her hand. “Oh, no worries, it's fine.” She'd been so busy chatting

she'd tabled her chemistry questions for the time being.

He put his hand on her arm. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold night

air. “Okay, well, if you do need any help just let me know, okay?”

They were only a few inches apart now. When did that happen?

She instantly felt like a girl on her first date, standing on her porch, waiting

to see what the guy was going to do. She could feel the pulse pounding in her ears, the heat from his hand.

What should she do? What did she want him to do? Her voice was almost a

whisper. “Thanks. I will.”

His hand lingered on her arm for what seemed like an hour. She could barely

see his face in the glancing light of the street lamps. Just the outline of his tousled hair, his glasses. She realized she hadn't kissed anyone with glasses since…

“Okay, then, I guess I'll see you?”

Her thoughts broke, the buzzing in her ears stopped. It was just her and Peter

and the crickets again.

“Sure,” she said, as his hand left her arm. She took a breath. This wasn't why she was here. This was just a distraction. She took a step back.

Peter had begun walking back towards his house, then turned, looking back

over his shoulder. “Good night, Kate.” His shadow continued towards his house.

She watched him go, wondering why she was still just standing there, feeling

as if some huge, important moment had just floated by and disappeared.

Chapter Eleven

“Well, you're up early, Katie.” Carol entered the dining room. She was still in her flannel pajamas, pink with tiny roses.

“Just trying to stay on top of things.” Kate heaved a sigh, happy to take a break from her computer screen. At the end of another frustrating week in her office, she had decided she might as well be frustrated close to her project. She'd called Carol late on Friday and asked if she'd mind having her as a guest again.

Three weekends in a row.

Carol disappeared into the kitchen and returned in a few seconds carrying two cups of steaming coffee. Kate accepted hers gratefully and took a long sip of

the much-needed caffeine. She didn't want to confess how badly she had slept after her drive. Then some dumb cardinal began singing its head off in the spruce

tree outside her window at five thirty. She was too restless to sleep after that.

It had nothing to do with Peter, well, aside from the fact that she'd lost the

nerve to ask for his help last time. She needed something to present to Danni and

her team at Garman this week, and so far she was still stuck with Penny the cartoon cow who looked like she'd been sniffing too many flocculates, whatever

they were.

Carol sat down across the table. “My sewing group is coming this morning. I

hope that won't interfere with your work?”

“Don't be silly. I'm the guest here. This is your house. I can always find a spot at the library. What kind of sewing project are you working on? A quilt?”

“The Thread Heads are taking a break from sewing today. We're finalizing some details for the carnival at the Community Center next week.”

Kate looked up from the list of Nitrovex products she was studying for inspiration. Maybe lightning would strike. Who knew? “The Community Center

sounds like it means a lot to you.”

Carol shrugged. “It means a lot to the community.”

Kate didn't understand the attachment to Golden Grove. “Why not travel, see

the world? Take a cruise, or go to Europe?”

“Oh, Katie, that's not me. Besides, all my friends are right here—always have been. Why would I want to go anywhere else?”

Why would anyone not want to be anywhere else? Sure, Golden Grove had

charm up the wazoo, but even charm gets boring after a while. Right? No

Starbucks, no theater, no museums, no skipping work to watch the Cubs playing a day game at Wrigley. Only about five restaurants, if you didn't count the Stop-n-Pop and its microwave burritos. Which she never, ever would. There was Ray's, of course, and his one-of-a-kind shakes. Forgotten how awesome those were. And Copperfield's Bookstore, where they used to order a out-of-print art books for her even though it probably didn't make them much money. And parking free instead of paying thirty bucks for a morning.

Okay, so maybe not everything about Golden Grove was bad.

Carol took a sip of coffee “So, are you planning to drop-in on Peter again tonight? It seemed like a success last weekend. I didn't even hear you come in.”

Here we go, right on schedule.

“I was home by eight-thirty,” she lied.