Epilogue #2
“Um, yeah.” Madeline fiddled with a rhinestone-encrusted brooch that she’d taken out to show a customer and hadn’t returned to the glass case yet.
This wasn’t going the way she’d planned it at all.
“I meant what I said about you being in charge of the yard. That’s what I’m hoping for most.” She went on to lightly describe her vision for a lawn and garden that was an extension of the store with garden decorations, furniture, and lighting that would bring shoppers in just as a lovely place to visit and have a cup of tea and a chat—but that would also all be for sale.
“I just thought, maybe it would be . . . something new for you. Something . . . fun. And it would bring in some money. I mean, I don’t know if you need it, but . . .” Madeline trailed off, struck mute by the expression on Gwen’s face. She couldn’t read it.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say. Thank you—but I . . . I need to think about it. Can I get back to you—like by Monday?”
Before Madeline could say yay or nay, Gwen unlocked the door and bolted out into the evening air.
“Well,” Madeline said to Grant a second or two later. “That’s not exactly the answer I was hoping for.”
“She’ll take it, and she’ll be great. You’ll see.”
“I admire your confidence,” she said, and she did . . . but she didn’t necessarily share it.
Although she and Gwen had definitely become friends, they weren’t what Madeline would call friend-friends yet.
Gwen still had no-fly zones: parts of her life and herself that she didn’t talk about.
Madeline, of all people, understood that.
She hoped Gwen would take the job, though.
For some reason she couldn’t quite articulate, Madeline felt Gwen needed The Second Chance Shop almost as much as she had in the beginning.
“Monday’s not too far away,” Grant said. “Can you handle the suspense just a little longer?”
“I don’t know.” Madeline stretched and gave Grant her best coy look. “I might be able to survive the arduous wait if I had a man to distract me.”
“What a lucky coincidence, seeing as I’m a man and all.”
“And such a lovely one. You’re right. It’s very convenient.” Madeline inhaled the good, woodsy smell of him and reached to touch his cheek, but Grant intercepted her hand and brought it to his mouth.
As he grazed her knuckles with a kiss, his lips brushed against her ring.
“Oh,” she said, starting slightly. “That reminds me . . .”
Grant looked a bit pensive as she reached into the deep pocket of her funky wraparound shop apron. She smiled. “It’s nothing bad. The reverse, in fact—or so I hope. I got you something.”
Grant stared at the tiny blue velvet box she held. It was faded and worn thin in places. “What is it?”
“Just open it.”
A heavy silver, beautifully carved, square-faced signet ring engraved with double Gs gleamed up at them. Grant blinked in surprise—then locked his gaze on Madeline.
“I couldn’t resist,” she said softly. “It has a history too, but it’s still solid and dependable—beautiful even. Plus, it has your initials. It was meant to be.”
“So, this is a friendship ring?”
“Not exactly, or not just, anyway.” Madeline smiled, but she was suddenly nervous. To her, it felt so right, but what if . . . She shook her head. Either way, it would be fine. She would be fine—but she had to let him know where she stood.
“You know how I told you I love you, but that I didn’t know what that meant?”
Grant nodded tentatively.
“Well, I know what it means for me now. If you’re up for it, I want to marry you, Grant Graham.”
Grant visibly startled—almost jumped. Then his brow knit together. “Are you serious?”
Madeline nodded. “You make me feel all sorts of things I never thought I would again. I don’t want to be your girlfriend or your significant other. I know it’s kind of old-fashioned—but, shocker, I’m kind of old-fashioned.”
“Says the woman proposing.”
Madeline laughed. “Of course. I might be old-fashioned, but I’m still a feminist. Besides, to paraphrase the sentiments of a wise friend—plus return the dubious favor of having your own words quoted back to you—being with you reminds me of something old and good about human nature.”
“Oh, yeah?” Grant asked softly.
“Yeah,” Madeline said, equally softly. “Something I’d forgotten the power of, actually. Love. If you and I are lucky enough to have found that again a second time around, we shouldn’t take it for granted.”
Grant’s eyes were so full of affection that Madeline could hardly breathe.
“I’m in,” he said softly. “Of course, I’m in.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve always loved you. I think I was made to love you. In fact, I—”
Madeline pressed her finger to Grant’s mouth to silence him, happiness dancing through her. “You’re getting carried away. Just kiss me.”
“I will, but one more thing first, just to be clear. I would be honored to be your husband and to keep building on what we have—forever.”
Before Madeline could respond to that, Grant sealed his words with the kiss she’d demanded—and it was a beyond lovely distraction. Monday? What was Monday?
*