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  When he put his hand on the knob and turned it, he’d only thought to test it. To his surprise, it opened, the bell overhead ringing loudly and breaking the silence.

  Behind the counter, Steffie jumped a mile.

  “Wade?”

  “Why is this door unlocked? Don’t you know that anyone could just walk in here?”

  “Obviously. Anyone just did.” She stood with her hands on her hips, her honey-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, a blue-and-white-checked apron covering her T-shirt and shorts. Her feet were bare, the toe-nails painted dark purple to match her fingernails. Across one cheek, there was a streak of something cream-colored that reached almost to her ear.

  “What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to test the door. To see if it was unlocked.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it isn’t safe to leave the door open. The door should be locked when you’re here alone.”

  “I’m not alone.” She pointed behind him. “Tina is on her way in.”

  He turned as one of the women he’d seen in the shop the previous night came up the walk.

  “So, while I do appreciate this sudden concern of yours—and if I weren’t so busy, I’d ask what’s up with that—but unless you’re here for ice cream … and really, I’m not open, as you can see, but if you’re having a sudden uncontrollable craving for some chocolate monster mash, maybe I could scrape something together. But if not—if you’re just stopping by to say ‘hey’—you said that last night. And besides, I’m really, really busy.” Her hands still on her hips, Steffie met his gaze dead-on and raised one eyebrow. “Was there something you wanted, Wade?”

  Before he could open his mouth, the bell over the door rang again and Tina came into the shop. She smiled at Wade and went past him.

  “Morning, T.” Stef still continued to stare him down, her expression unchanged.

  “Morning, Stef,” Tina replied as she headed toward the back room.

  “Sorry,” Wade mumbled. “I just thought that maybe … Sorry.”

  He watched her watch him as he backed out the door and into the snip of sunlight that spilled through the lifting clouds. He closed the door behind him sheepishly and headed up Kelly’s Point, feeling like a complete ass all the way back to River Road.

  By eight a.m., Steffie had made her day’s worth of ice cream and the handmade cones she was becoming known for. She could make the generic flavors—chocolate, vanilla, strawberry—in her sleep. The specialties of the day, her own concoctions—lemon meringue, peach divinity, pecan fudge ripple, and in honor of Halloween coming up, chocolate monster mash—took a little more time. But she’d gotten her recipes worked out over the weekend, and all told, it took her only three hours to make all she planned to sell that day. When it was gone, it was gone, and that little bit of exclusivity had made Scoop a must-stop on many a tourist’s agenda.

  “Wow, I’m beat and the day has barely begun.” She stretched both arms over her head.

  “Want me to run up to Cuppachino and get you some coffee?” Tina asked.

  “Thanks, sweetie, but I think I’ll run up to Cuppachino and get my own. I need to stretch my legs.” Stef untied her apron and hung it on a hook near the back door. “Can I bring something for you?”

  Tina held up the travel cup she’d brought from home. “I’m still good.”

  “I won’t be long.” Stef grabbed her bag from under her desk, where she’d dropped it when she arrived a few hours earlier.

  “Take your time,” Tina told her. “Everything’s under control here.”

  Stef went out the back door and crossed the sandy strip between the rear of her shop and the public parking lot. She was dying for a good cup of coffee almost as much as she was dying to hear some gossip about Wade. The same group met at Cuppachino every morning, and while Stef didn’t join them every day, she made it there often enough to be considered a regular. Today, wild horses couldn’t keep her away.

  She walked briskly up Kelly’s Point and rounded the corner at Petals and Posies onto Charles, calling a greeting to Olivia, the florist, who was setting pots of purple asters and orange mums on her steps. She went straight to Cuppachino, where the usual group was at their usual post—the big table close to the front window—and she waved to them through the glass before she went inside. Stepping directly to the counter, she gave her order to Carlo, the owner, who poured her coffee—light, one sugar—into the mug that bore the name of her shop. Carlo’s wife, a potter, made mugs for each of the merchants who frequented the coffee shop on a regular basis. The chocolate-brown mug Carlo handed to Stef had SCOOP printed across the bowl in fat white letters, a pink ice-cream cone forming the P.

  She paid for her coffee and turned toward the table, trying to decide where to sit, who was most likely to have the best gossip to share that morning. She hoped she hadn’t missed the best of it. Then again, Vanessa was there, and of course, she’d share anything she’d heard in Steffie’s absence.

  Stef walked to the table, and pulled out the chair on the end, next to Grace Sinclair. If anyone knew anything, Stef was betting it would be Grace, who owned the town’s only newspaper, and who, at seventysomething, knew everyone in St. Dennis.

  “… and I said to myself, that is one fine-looking young man.” Barbara Noonan, who owned Book ’Em, the bookstore across the street, grinned before taking a sip of her coffee.

  “For God’s sake, Barbara, you’re old enough to be that boy’s mother,” Grace admonished.

  “Maybe so.” Barbara nodded. “Doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

  “Any idea who the mother is?” Nita Perry, owner of the antiques shop, looked around the table.

  Steffie figured that someone—most likely Vanessa—had given Nita a swift kick to the shin under the table to shut her up, because Nita jumped slightly, then frowned.

  “What? Everyone in town knows by now that Wade brought a little boy home with him. He certainly isn’t hiding him. I figured maybe Stef has the inside scoop—pun intended—because of Grant and Dallas. What’s wrong with asking?”

  Barbara—who, like everyone else at the table, had witnessed Wade and Steffie’s dance-floor romance unfold at Vanessa’s brother’s wedding—rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t know any more than any of you do.” Stef wore her best barely interested expression. “Grant’s out of town, and as of last night, he had no idea.”

  “Dallas never said anything about it? Not ever?” Nita stared in disbelief.

  “Apparently not.” Stef shrugged it off as being unimportant.

  “Doesn’t that beat all?” Barbara shook her head and turned to Grace. “You’re the investigative reporter here. I would think you’d have figured out a way to get the facts by now.”

  “From what I understand,” Grace replied, “Wade only arrived in St. Dennis yesterday. But it’s my guess that he’s planning on staying for at least a little while.”

  “What makes you say that?” Steffie asked.

  “I just happened to drive past Berry’s house yesterday afternoon and I saw a car with Texas plates that had one of those trailer things hooked on the back. You know, the kind of trailer you rent when you’ve got more than a few suitcases to bring to wherever it is you’re going.”

  The table fell silent for a moment.

  “Of course,” Grace added, “that could also mean he’s on his way to someplace else.”

  “Maybe I should ask Daz,” Vanessa mused.

  “Who’s Daz?” asked Barbara.

  “My spirit guide on the Ouija board,” Vanessa whispered as if sharing a mysterious secret.

  Grace Sinclair choked on her tea.

  “Sorry, dears.” She waved a napkin in front of her face. “Went down the wrong way.” Turning back to Vanessa, Grace asked, “What was that you were saying? Something about a Ouija board?”

  “It’s a joke, Miss Grace. I found one in the attic and brought it down to play with Grady. I was planning on asking it loaded questions and then spell out
the answers, so I could drop little hints without looking like I was dropping hints.” Vanessa smiled. “You know, things like, ‘What size ring does Vanessa wear on her ring finger?’ and then I’d have the board answer, ‘Size five.’ Just silly stuff like that.”

  “So what happened?” Nita prodded. “Did Grady fall for it?”

  “We didn’t get to play,” Vanessa told them. “See, I’d read somewhere that before you ask it a question, you have to introduce yourself to your spirit guide. So I did that. ‘Hi, I’m Vanessa, nice to meet you. What’s your name?’ But no matter what I asked it, it just kept spelling out ‘D-A-Z.’ Like it had been programmed or something.”

  “Maybe Grady was doing it on purpose,” Barbara suggested. “Maybe he knew what you were up to.”

  “Grady wasn’t even in the room. I was doing it by myself.”

  Grace cleared her throat, then took a long slow sip of tea before asking, “Found it in your attic, you say? I suppose it had belonged to Alice Ridgeway?”

  Vanessa nodded. “It was there when I moved in, so I have to think it had been hers, since the contents came along with the house.”

  “Okay, you can admit now that you’re doing it on purpose because you think it’s amusing to say that you have a spirit guide named Daz.” Nita laughed. “Whoever heard of a spirit named Daz, anyway?”

  “But I’m not doing it, and I didn’t make up Daz.” Vanessa was beginning to sound slightly defensive.

  “Maybe unconsciously you’re moving the little triangle thing?”

  “Stef, I swear, it moves itself.”

  “Maybe you’re holding the board at a slant.” Stef tried to think of some explanation that would allow her friend to save face.

  Vanessa shook her head. “I wasn’t holding it. I had it flat on the table.”

  “Maybe your floors are slanted and you don’t realize it. Your house is pretty old,” Stef reminded her.

  “Maybe. Though Grady did hang some paintings for me, and he said the walls were plumb. Could the walls be plumb and the floors crooked?”

  “Perhaps you could let me try,” Grace said. “I used to use … that is, play with a board when I was younger.”

  “It’s no big deal, Miss Grace. It’s only a toy,” Vanessa told her. “But you’re welcome to have it. Since ‘DAZ’ isn’t my ring size, I doubt it’ll be of any use to me.”

  “Oh, look. Speaking of Grady.” Barbara pointed out the window. “It looks like he’s going into Bling, Ness.”

  Vanessa hastily downed the last of her coffee. “I left home a little early today, so he probably thinks I’m there. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  Steffie grabbed Vanessa’s empty mug from her friend’s hand. It was customary to return one’s cup directly to Carlo before leaving. “I’ll take this back when I take back mine,” she told Vanessa. “You go on.”

  “Thanks, Stef.” Vanessa blew an air kiss in the general direction of the table before flying out the door.

  Barbara leaned in the direction of the window. “Now, there’s a match made in that place where all perfect matches are made.”

  “Oh, would you look at the way they just beam at each other. Anyone could tell they’re madly in love.” Nita sighed heavily. “Now, there is one very lucky girl.”

  “Not to mention one very lucky guy,” Stef reminded them.

  “True enough.” Barbara nodded. “We should all be that lucky. We should all know what it’s like to have someone love us like that.”

  “Amen,” Steffie murmured. She turned her wrist to check her watch. “Look at the time. I have to get back.”

  She picked up Vanessa’s mug along with her own and walked to the counter, where she handed them over to Carlo, then waved good-bye to the others before heading out the door and back to Scoop.

  Stef waved to Vanessa and Grady across the street, but neither appeared to have seen her.

  With Barbara’s comment still ringing in her ears, Stef walked along Kelly’s Point Road. She knew she’d never had that kind of love in her life. Oh, she’d had plenty of boyfriends, and she’d had a fling or two, but never anything serious. Never the kind of relationship where that over-the-moon feeling was mutual. Besides, in her experience, over-the-moon didn’t last. She thought that might be the tricky part, getting it to last. The key to it all, of course, was finding the right person in the first place.

  But what if you’ve found the person who makes your palms sweat and your heart beat faster, the person who filled your dreams for as long as you could remember—but that person didn’t have a clue about you? What if the one person you knew you could love forever wasn’t in love with you?

  She thought back to Beck and Mia’s wedding, of dancing so close to Wade that she could feel his heart beating right through the jacket he wore, of looking into his eyes and thinking, Yeah, this is the one. This is what I’ve been waiting for all these years, this moment for him to look at me just this way. The way their bodies had swayed together, as if they’d been made for each other.

  And then, of course, there was the way Wade had abruptly left her standing there alone in the middle of the parking lot, wondering if everything else that night had been some horrible joke the gods had played on her for some petty thing she must have done at some point in her life.

  She had so not deserved him dumping her that night.

  She deserved someone who would love her forever, someone who’d look at her the way Grady looked at Ness and the way Grant looked at Dallas, not someone who got her all revved up and then walked away without explanation and was just poof—gone from her life.

  And what was with that, anyway? She’d never understood his actions that night. Just as she’d never understood why she hadn’t been able to find someone else who made her feel the way Wade did.

  Annoyed with him all over again, she stepped over the weathered railroad tie that formed the boundary between the parking lot and the back of her shop, sighing as she opened the door. Well, his coming back here just served as a reminder—as if she’d needed one—of how alone she’d felt that night as she watched the tail lights of his rental car disappear down the inn’s long driveway.

  What she should do, she realized, is channel all this emotion into finding someone who did appreciate her, someone she could spend the rest of her life with. There had to be someone out there somewhere who could make Steffie Wyler numero uno in his life, someone who could love her forever. Since Beck’s wedding, she’d made no effort to meet anyone else.

  Well, that’s going to change, as of right now, she told herself sternly. From now on, I’m open to whatever the universe has to send my way. Wade MacGregor isn’t the only fish in the Bay.

  THE St. Dennis Historical Society held their monthly meetings at Old St. Mary’s Church on Parish House Road. Once their business had been concluded, they adjourned to Captain Walt’s down at the marina for a luncheon, followed by ice-cream sundaes at Scoop. Steffie usually prepared in advance for the onslaught by making sure she had sufficient staff so that no one would be waiting in line long enough to start complaining about it. Yesterday she’d been so distracted by Wade that she’d forgotten to prepare for the September meeting. Fortunately, Tina and her sister Claire, who pitched in occasionally now that her extra summer help was back in school, had been scheduled to work, so Stef had enough hands.

  What she didn’t have was the unique topping that the group’s members had come to expect from their monthly visits to Scoop, the topping she’d create just for them.

  It was almost ten in the morning when she realized her omission. The society’s luncheon usually finished around one-thirty, which meant the first wave would arrive at Scoop around one forty-five. Three and a half hours to come up with something unusual, seasonal, and delicious.

  She stood in front of her freezer and stared at the contents hoping for inspiration. When that didn’t work, she asked Tina, “Quick. What fruit says ‘early fall’ to you?”

  Without hesitating, Tina said, “Ap
ples.”

  “Of course! Apples. Who has apples?”

  “The markets all have them,” Tina pointed out.

  “I don’t know where those apples come from. I don’t know when they were picked or what they were sprayed with.” Stef frowned. “I don’t like not knowing. And yes, the irony that a junk-food aficionado such as myself would care about this is not lost on me.”

  “Madison’s have apples,” Tina reminded her. “I don’t think they spray bad stuff on their trees.”

  “Right. Madison’s.” Stef grabbed the phone book and searched for the number, which she dialed on the wall phone. “Clay, it’s Steffie Wyler. Yes, fine … Listen, I need apples. What do you have …?”

  Five minutes later, Tina was on her way to pick up a bushel of honey-crisp apples and Steffie was showing Claire how to make caramel. On the blackboard for the day, Stef wrote the special of the day: CARAMEL APPLE WALNUT SUNDAES. At one forty, she was scooping up the first of many bowls of vanilla ice cream swimming in warm caramel over chopped apples, topped with walnuts.

  “Stephanie, do you think there will be any of that yummy topping left after the crowd disperses?”

  At the sound of the familiar voice, Stef looked up and grinned from ear to ear.

  “Mom! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today? Is Dad with you?” She tried to look over her mother’s shoulder.

  “I had some business to tend to that your father didn’t have to bother with,” her mother replied. “I thought I’d see if you and Grant had time for a quick bite of lunch, but Grant has a full schedule this afternoon. I stopped at the clinic on my way here but only had a few minutes to spend with him.”

  Shirley Wyler held up a bag that read THE CHECKERED CLOTH in black script across a red and white bag.

  “I came prepared.”

  “Is that what I think it is?” Steffie asked hopefully. “Bleu-cheese burger on a brioche roll?”

  “Would I bring my daughter anything but?”

  “Give me ten minutes,” Stef told her. “But you might want to start on yours now so it doesn’t get cold.”