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“Mr. and Mrs. Barrow, I’m Magdalene Cruthers, a friend of Louise’s. I’m so sorry to intrude, as I know you’ve traveled quite far for a visit, and I was just going to take my leave.”

Mr. Barrow raised one eyebrow perfectly—Jake’s proficiency with that act must be hereditary as well as practiced—as he observed Maggie. “A friend of Louise’s.” It wasn’t a question; his tone was suspicious. Maggie smiled wider: now it was war.

“Indeed. My brothers and I own the local haberdashery, and Louise has been vital to our success. She’s kind enough to help us when she can spare the time.”

“At a haberdashery?” Mrs. Barrow said, sounding genuinely surprised. “Louise can hardly sew a button on. I’m sorry, dear,” she added. “But it’s true.”

Lou didn’t reply. She looked tired.

“Her skills must have improved vastly since you last checked,” Maggie said, keeping her tone even and light. “We simply could not stay in business without her. She’s essential.” She shot Lou a fond look; the other woman blinked.

Laura cleared her throat. “Maggie, so good to see you.” In direct opposition to Lou’s shuttered expression, Laura’s smile was false but bright. The few times Maggie had been in the small woman’s presence, she was always effusive and energetic (Bridgers had once, with great admiration, used the word bubbly) but this was a level above; she was nearly vibrating with drummed-up joy. “John and Lucy, Maggie’s shop does the most wonderful work. We’re so grateful they’re here in Roslyn so we can avoid going all the way to St. Cloud anytime we need a new frock. We’re very lucky to be their friends.”

“You own the shop?” Lucy looked … not disbelieving, exactly, but terribly confused. “You own the shop.”

Maggie didn’t allow herself to pause. “My brothers and I, yes. It’s so empowering, having your own business. But, of course, you know that, what with the butcher shop and all.” Her cheeks ached from the forced smile.

“Indeed.” Lucy shot a look at John, who shrugged. “Well, if you don’t mind, we’re quite tired and would like to spend some time with our granddaughter.”

“Of course.” Maggie continued to smile, knowing she was most likely beginning to look somewhat crazed.

“We can see you back, Maggie,” Laura said, still bright. “It’s so pleasant out, and the fresh air is so reviving!” She was almost preening; Maggie was good at performing to suit her audience, but she had nothing on Laura.

“Thank you,” she said, turning back to Lucy and John. “It was a pleasure to meet you both. Louise, I’ll see you tomorrow. Mr. Barrow.” She caught Theo’s eye. “Emmy.” Emmy, nodding off in Lou’s arms, waved.

She let Laura and David usher her out. Theo watched her until she was out of the house, and she couldn’t help turning back to smile at him.

Chapter

Fifteen

The walk back home was, in fact, pleasant, and she learned that Laura had a rather impressive command of profanity. Her parents-in-law had been described, in turn, as “damned awful,” “asses of the highest degree,” and—Maggie’s favorite—“absolutely fucking insufferable in every conceivable way.” David had not contributed to the verbal lashing, but he also had not scolded or corrected his wife, simply tucking her into his side and nodding when it was appropriate. They deposited Maggie outside the front door of the shop, Laura bussing her cheek before departing.

Bridgers had forgotten to close the drapes for the evening, so she unlocked the front door and slipped into the storefront to complete that task before going upstairs to bed. It wasn’t late, not even eight o’clock, but the hour of holding Emmy had made her arms tired (weak, weak, weak, she thought) and the onslaught of unpleasantness that was Mr. and Mrs. Barrow had been unexpected and draining. Her limbs felt heavy and she took a moment to relax against the pillar next to the door, looking out onto the soft, sleepy village. The bakery across the road, owned and operated by a Mr. Tiberius Stinson, was lit from within, and Mr. Stinson was visible through the window measuring out his ingredients for the next morning. A feral cat strode across the yard; a pair of young boys dashed after it. It was warm and peaceful. Sighing, she heaved herself off the pillar and stretched her arms over her head, then nearly shrieked when she saw a dark figure staring in at her.

Theo’s eyes widened and he gestured wildly, though what he was trying to communicate was an utter mystery to Maggie. She rushed to the door and yanked it open, pulling him inside. “You scared me to death!” she hissed, closing the door behind him. “What on earth are you thinking, sneaking up on a person like that!”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he objected. “How could I be sneaking if I placed myself directly in your line of sight?”

“It’s the middle of the night and I just got home from your house! What are you doing here?”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing, neck tensing.

She blew out a breath. “What do you want, Theo?”

He took one step closer, halted. “I …” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you. For helping. And … Well, you met my parents.” His smile was a wince. “Thank you for defending Lou. She doesn’t get much defending, and it meant a lot.”

Her skin felt too tight. “They seem difficult. I’m sorry.”

He stared at her, mouth twitching. “You’re sorry that they’re difficult?”

“I’m sorry anyone is ever unkind to you.”

His blue eyes softened, his mouth relaxed, and he closed the distance between them. Raising one hand, he traced her jaw with a steady fingertip. “I’m sorry anyone is ever unkind to you, too, Maggie.”

A heavy moment passed, neither of them blinking.

She didn’t think.