Mended Hearts. Ruth Logan Herne
Matt didn’t answer the question. “I’ve come to make amends, Jeff.”
“Too little, too late.”
A tiny muscle in Matt’s jaw tightened. “You could be right. I hope you’re wrong. But I wanted to come here and see you face-to-face. Pave the way.”
“So you’re in town looking for work.” Jeff mused over the words, wishing Matt wasn’t so calm while he felt ready to jump the desk and settle old wrongs. “Or you’re here because Walker Electronics is doing better and you want a piece of the pie.”
Matt swiped Jeff’s office a quick glance. “Right. I just now decided to fulfill a lifelong yearning to understand microchips, nanoseconds and satellite-fed communications. Sorry, but that part of our father didn’t bleed through to me.”
“No.” Jeff shut his desk drawer with more force than necessary. “You got the drinking, gambling, womanizing and lawbreaking genes. How’s that working for you, Matt?”
Matt stepped back. “I didn’t come to fight, Jeff. I just wanted you aware. And if you’ll point me toward Helen’s office, I’ll let her know, as well.”
What Jeff wanted was to show Matt the exit in no uncertain terms, but that would label him an even bigger jerk. He hiked a thumb left. “Out the door. Down the hall. I know she’s there because we just finished a meeting about a matching fund drive for the Jamison library.”
“Your grandfather’s wishes.”
“Yes.”
Matt nodded and backed toward the door. “I’m not looking to get in your way down here.”
“You already did.”
Matt acknowledged that with a shrug and a straight-on look. “Those are your issues, then.”
He turned, leaving Jeff with nothing but riled-up memories, twenty years of absence not enough to warrant Matt’s presence as a welcome addition.
His grandmother would disagree. Jeff knew that. She’d always seen Matt as a broken soul, a lost kid, a troubled heart.
Whereas Jeff saw a conscienceless user, just like their father.
Long ago, Peter had asked the Lord about forgiving his brother, wondering if seven times was enough. And Jesus said no. Not nearly enough. Which only meant Jeff had some serious work to do if forgiving Matt was added to his already overflowing plate.
Chapter One
Megan Romesser’s eyes brightened as Hannah Moore walked through the back door of Grandma Mary’s Candies on this quiet September afternoon. Quiet equated good in Hannah’s book, because she longed to vent loud and long, knowing Megan would listen, commiserate and then tell her to get on with it.
Megan understood the role of a good friend.
But venting would mean explaining why heading up a library fundraising drive with weekly meetings and full immersion into what everyone else considered normal life thrust Hannah into an emotional tailspin. Opening that door meant facing things she’d tucked aside years ago.
If not now, when?
How about never?
Hannah shoved the internal questions aside. If keeping that door closed guarded her mental health, then so be it.
She nodded toward the trays of fresh candy and the wall of boxed chocolates shipped in from Grandma Mary’s Buffalo-based factory. “Just being around this much chocolate adds inches to my hips. Why do I work here? To torture myself?”
“To see me.” Megan sent her a quick grin, finished packing an order, then waved toward the back. “New sponge candy in the minikitchen. See what you think.”
“I love the perks of this job. Have I mentioned that lately?”
“Which is why you run voraciously. Nothing sticks on you.”
“A blessing and a curse.”
“Ha.” Megan sent a doubtful look over her shoulder. “Not packing on pounds is never a curse. Bite your tongue.”
“Let’s just say I’m not afraid to augment as needed,” Hannah shot back, grinning. “Aiding and abetting my lack of curves.”
Megan laughed out loud. “Seriously, Hannah, the way you look in a dress? In your running gear? Head-turning. Brat.”
“Thanks.” Hannah nipped a piece of fresh sponge candy, closed her eyes in appreciation and breathed deep. “Wonderful. Marvelous. Words escape me.”
“That’ll do for the moment. The chocolate is smooth enough?”
“Like silk.”
“Sweet enough?”
“The perfect blend of slightly bitter chocolate to golden, sugary honeycomb. Need any more convincing?”
“I could use you to write my ad copy.” Megan grinned, then turned to answer the wall phone. “Grandma Mary’s Candies, Megan speaking. Hey, darlin’, when are you coming home?”
Honeymooner talk. Hannah moved into the kitchen, removing herself from the inevitable love-yous and miss-yous of being separated for two whole days.
Right now, the last thing Hannah needed was another reminder of her empty life.
She tried to appear normal. She’d done a morning stint at the library, followed by a mandatory meeting with Helen Walker, CEO of Walker Electronics, which put her into this current tizzy. Now she would put in four hours of work helping Megan in the family candy store in Wellsville.
Working odd jobs offered a semblance of normal, but normal had disappeared on a rainy afternoon almost five years ago, taking a hefty part of her self-reliance with it.
Pretense worked now. Fake it till you make it, an old sales adage that applied. Only Hannah hadn’t gotten to the “make it” part yet. Lately she’d been wondering if she ever would. Perhaps Helen Walker had been right, maybe shouldering this library fundraising task would be good for her. Anything that pushed her out of her self-imposed comfort zone wasn’t bad, right?
Depends on your definition of bad, her inner voice scoffed.
Oh, she knew bad. Been there, done that, had no desire to return. Not ever again. Keeping her responsibilities minimal meant downsizing risk, and that had become her current mantra.
“Hannah?”
“Yes?” She poked her head around the corner, then shifted her attention to the phone. “You done with lover boy?”
Megan laughed. “Yes, but he’s not coming home until tomorrow. Problems with staffing at the Baltimore store. Wanna do a movie tonight?”
Hannah shook her head. “Too nice to stay inside. What about walking the ridge?”
“As in walk, not run?”
Hannah smiled as she weighed sponge candy into one-pound boxes. “Promise.”
“I’m in. You’re okay on your own here?”
Hannah glanced around the empty store. “Fine. You’re leaving?”
“Just for a bit. Ben needs a ride home from the restaurant.”
Ben was Megan’s developmentally challenged younger brother who lived in a group home a few blocks from the store. “You go get Ben. I’ll do quality control on the sponge candy. And maybe the caramels, as well.”
“Can’t be too careful.” Megan paused and gave Hannah a quick hug on her way out. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?” Steadying her features, Hannah glanced up.
“You seem a little off.”
“I’m