Hard Choices. Allison Leigh
grass.
Then she walked around to the front of the boathouse and went inside where the catering crew had stored the cases of champagne.
Nobody would miss another bottle.
Chapter One
There was no mistaking the sound of breaking glass.
Annie closed her eyes at the latest shatter and ordered her nerves to stop jumping all over the place. She didn’t even really need to open her eyes to move to the rear portion of the shop, though she did. She knew every corner, every surface, inside and out. But considering how edgy she’d been for the past two days, it wouldn’t have surprised her greatly if she did run into one of the chrome-and-glass display racks as she moved.
She stepped through the doorway that separated the stock-and workroom from the retail front of Island Botanica and took in the scene with a glance.
Bunches of lavender, rosemary and California poppy hung drying from the large grid-shaped rack suspended from the ceiling. And below the colorful, fragrant display a teenaged girl stood in the midst of broken dark-green glassware. “Are you hurt?”
Her niece looked down at the mess around her heavy leather boots. “That’s the third bottle I’ve broken.” Riley’s voice sounded thick, as if she were near tears.
There were no signs of blood and Annie’s heart began to settle again. She shrugged and plucked the broom from the hook on the wall and began sweeping up the shards. “It happens,” she said calmly. “Particularly with a concrete floor.” She realized her hands were trembling and tightened them around the broom handle. “Sara and I have joked about having the floor in here padded with foam because we’ve broken so many things.” She smiled a little. “Too impractical. At least concrete’s easy to sweep.”
The dozen bracelets around Riley’s slender wrist jangled as she tucked her waving blond hair behind her ears. She stepped out of the way as Annie swept. “Dad’ll pay for whatever I damage.”
Annie’s heart clutched a little at that. Since she’d unexpectedly shown up on Annie’s doorstep two days ago, Riley had not voluntarily mentioned either one of her parents. Annie had been the one to insist on calling Will and Noelle to let them know their daughter was safe.
As safe as she could be given that she was in Annie’s company.
She stopped sweeping for a moment. Started to reach out and touch Riley’s arm, but stopped.
Instead, she bent over the dustpan and swept the broken glass into it. Riley hadn’t been thrilled when Annie had insisted on calling her parents, but she hadn’t bolted, at least. “Don’t be silly. Nobody has to pay for anything.”
“Except you and Sara, cause now you can’t sell that.” The girl jerked her chin at the rain of glass that tumbled from the dustpan when Annie tipped it over the large garbage can. “Dad said you guys are barely keeping your heads above water.”
“Well, a broken bottle or two isn’t going to ruin us,” she said dryly. “It’s all right, Riley. Truly.” She began sweeping over the floor once more for good measure. “Why don’t you finish unpacking that crate of bottles and then we’ll break for lunch.”
Riley’s blue gaze flicked above Annie’s head and she knew the girl was looking at the plain round clock on the wall. “A little early for lunch, isn’t it?”
Annie shook the dustpan over the garbage can again before putting it and the broom back. “One of the perks of being an owner. Lunch whenever we want. I’ll take you over to Maisy’s Place. The cook there does a great lunch, and maybe we can still sit outside if the rain holds off.” She managed a smile, feeling lighter at the prospect. Trying to keep Riley occupied in the shop all morning had been harder than she’d expected. But the shop needed tending, even on a stormy day, and she hadn’t wanted to leave Riley alone. “Let me know when you’re finished with that crate.”
Threat of tears apparently gone, Riley nodded and reached again into the packing material that surrounded each bottle in the wooden crate. After a moment, Annie made herself go back out to the front of the shop. Riley didn’t need her looking over her shoulder.
It was quiet that morning, much as she’d expect it to be in the middle of the week. Turnabout’s small tourist trade picked up around the weekends, and the herbal shop, Island Botanica, Annie owned with her friend Sara Drake, picked up business then as a result.
Thank goodness for their mail-order trade, she thought faintly. If not for that exceptionally successful portion of their business, Will’s opinion would have been borne out, and there would probably be no shop at all. Which was an unbearable thought.
She picked up a dusting cloth and moved across the light pine floor to the display cases at the window. The shop was small but still had an airy, simple and clean feel to it that Annie loved as much now as she had when she and Sara had opened it five years earlier.
Sitting atop the clear glass shelves were their trademark green glass bottles, jars and matching tubes. A person could get almost everything from tonics to perfume at Island Botanica, and all of it was made right there on Turnabout Island. She turned a bottle so the silver print on the narrow ivory label could be seen more clearly and dashed her rag over a fingerprint smudging the shelf.
She glanced through the windows lining the front of the shop, glad to see the sidewalk was still dry, then looked up at the dark clouds in the sky. If it hadn’t been the middle of the week, she suspected that the threatening weather would have chased off any prospective customers, anyway. There was a storm moving in, no doubt about it.
Turnabout Island often had drizzly days, and the climate was ideal for the fertile fields that supplied the shop. But it wasn’t all that often they had such threatening clouds hovering overhead as they’d had for the past several days.
The clouds had rolled in the same day Riley had arrived. Annie had been a mess of nerves, dread and euphoria ever since. Her niece had run away from home, but instead of disappearing completely, she’d come to Annie.
Annie still didn’t really know why.
She twisted the cloth in her hands, turning toward the door as she heard the soft, tinkling bell that signaled someone entering. Her gaze had barely caught a glimpse of height and gleaming brown hair when Riley came in from the back.
“Auntie Annie, I’m finished with the—” Riley’s voice stopped cold.
Annie glanced at her. “Great, Riley. Thanks. Just sit tight for a minute while I take care of—” Her own voice broke off at the sight of their visitor. Her foot fell back a step and she bumped into one of the display cases after all. Bottles jangled ominously but she was so rooted in shock she didn’t even reach back to steady them. “Logan?”
“I warned them,” her niece said, lips tight. “I warned them not to come after me. So he sent you instead. I’m not stupid, you know. I recognize you from Mom and Dad’s wedding pictures.”
The man drew his eyebrows together as he continued watching Riley. “Excuse me?”
Riley didn’t lose her mutinous expression.
Annie felt as though her jaw must be near the floor as she gaped at the incomer. “Logan,” she said again. “Logan Drake?” It had been years since she’d seen him in the flesh. Years. She’d believed that he’d lost touch with Will shortly after Will and Noelle got married. And even though Sara had spoken of him from time to time, the sight of him was still like a flashback to another life. Another time.
Another Annie.
Finally, the man looked from Riley to her. “Hey, Annie.” The corner of his lips tilted and a fine spray of lines crinkled out from the corners of his unforgettably blue, thickly-lashed eyes. “It’s been a long time.”
Annie’s stomach dipped and swayed. She wasn’t sure who unnerved her more. Riley or Logan, who clearly wasn’t surprised to see her. “A long time,” she