Jo was hanging a wind chime when Katie got home. Since that first meeting, they hadn’t talked much. Jo’s job,whatever it was, seemed to keep her busy and Katie was working as many shifts as she could. At night, she’dnotice that Jo’s lights were on, but it was too late for her to drop by, and Jo hadn’t been there the previousweekend.
“Long time, no talk,” Jo said with a wave. She tapped the wind chime, making it ding before crossing the yard.
Katie reached the porch and put the bags down. “Where’ve you been?”
Jo shrugged. “You know how it goes. Late nights, early mornings, going here and there. Half the time, I feel likeI’m being pulled in every direction.” She motioned to the rockers. “You mind? I need a break. I’ve been cleaning allmorning and I just hung that thing. I like the sound, you know.”
“Go ahead,” Katie said.
Jo sat and rolled her shoulders, working out the kinks. “You’ve been getting some sun,” she commented. “Didyou go to the beach?”
“No,” Katie said. She scooted one of the bags aside to make room for her foot. “I picked up some extra dayshifts the past couple of weeks and I worked outside on the deck.”
“Sun, water… what else is there? Working at Ivan’s must be like being on vacation.”
Katie laughed. “Not quite. But how about you?”
“No sun, no fun for me these days.” She nodded toward the bags. “I wanted to drop by and mooch a cup ofcoffee this morning, but you were already gone.”
“I went shopping.”
“I can tell. Did you find anything you liked?”
“I think so,” Katie confessed.
“Well, don’t just sit there, show me what you bought.”
“Are you sure?”
Jo laughed. “I live in a cottage at the end of a gravel road in the middle of nowhere and I’ve been washingcabinets all morning. What else do I have to excite me?”
Katie pulled out a pair of jeans and handed them over. Jo held them up, turning them from front to back.
“Wow!” she said. “You must have found these at Anna Jean’s. I love that place.”
“How did you know I went to Anna Jean’s?”
“Because it’s not like any of the stores around here sell things this nice. This came from someone’s closet. Arich woman’s closet. A lot of the stuff is practically new.” Lowering the jeans, Jo ran her finger over the stitchingon the pockets. “These are great. I love the designs!” She peeked toward the bag. “What else did you get?”
Katie handed over the items one by one, listening as Jo raved about every piece. When the bag was empty, Josighed. “Okay, it’s official. I’m jealous. And let me guess, there’s nothing like any of this left in the store, is there?”
Katie shrugged, feeling suddenly sheepish. “Sorry,” she said. “I was there for a while.”
“Well, good for you. These are treasures.”
Katie nodded toward Jo’s house. “How’s it coming over there?” she asked. “Have you started painting?”
“Not yet.”
“Too busy at work?”
Jo made a face. “The truth is, after I got the unpacking done and I cleaned the place from top to bottom, I sort ofran out of energy. It’s a good thing you’re my friend, since that means I can still come over here where it’s brightand cheery.”
“You’re welcome anytime.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. But evil Mr. Benson is going to deliver some cans of paint tomorrow. Which alsoexplains why I’m here. I’m dreading the very idea of spending my entire weekend covered in splatter.”
“It’s not so bad. It goes fast.”
“Do you see these hands?” Jo said, holding them up. “These were made for caressing handsome men andmeant to be adorned with pretty nails and diamond rings. They’re not made for paint rollers and paint splatter andthat kind of manual labor.”
Katie giggled. “Do you want me to come over and help?”
“Absolutely not. I’m an expert in procrastination, but the last thing I want you to think is that I’m incompetent,too. Because I’m actually pretty good at what I do.”
A flock of starlings broke from the trees, moving in an almost musical rhythm. The motion of the rockers wasmaking the porch creak slightly.
“What doyou do?” Katie asked.
“I’m a counselor of sorts.”
“For the high school?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m a grief counselor.”
“Oh,” Katie said. She paused. “I’m not sure what that is.”
Jo shrugged. “I visit with people and try to help them. Usually, it’s because someone close to them has died.”
She paused, and when she went on, her voice was softer. “People react in a lot of different ways and it’s up to meto figure out how to help them accept what happened—and I hate that word, by the way, since I’ve yet to meetanyone who wantsto accept it—but that’s pretty much what I’m supposed to do. Because in the end, and nomatter how hard it is, acceptance helps people move on with the rest of their lives. But sometimes…”
She trailed off. In the silence, she scratched at a piece of flaking paint on the rocker. “Sometimes, when I’m withsomeone, other issues come up. That’s what I’ve been dealing with lately. Because sometimes people need helpin other ways, too.”
“That sounds rewarding.”
“It is. Even if it has challenges.” She turned toward Katie. “But what about you?”
“You know I work at Ivan’s.”
“But you haven’t told me anything else about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Katie protested, hoping to deflect the line of questioning.
“Of course there is. Everyone has a story.” She paused. “For instance, what really brought you to Southport?”
“I already told you,” Katie said. “I wanted to start over.”
Jo seemed to stare right through her as she studied the answer. “Okay,” she finally said, her tone light. “You’reright. It’s not my business.”
“That’s not what I said…”
“Yes, you did. You just said it in a nice way. And I respect your answer because you’re right; it isn’t mybusiness. But just so you know, when you say you wanted to start over, the counselor in me wonders why you feltthe need to start over. And more important, what you left behind.”
Katie felt her shoulders tense. Sensing her discomfort, Jo went on.
“How about this?” she asked gently. “Forget I even asked the question. Just know that if you ever want to talk,I’m here, okay? I’m good at listening. Especially with friends. And believe it or not, sometimes talking helps.”
“What if I can’t talk about it?” Katie said in an involuntary whisper.
“Then how about this? Ignore the fact that I’m a counselor. We’re just friends, and friends can talk aboutanything. Like where you were born or something that made you happy as a kid.”
“Why is that important?”
“It isn’t. And that’s the point. You don’t have to say anything at all that you don’t want to say.”
Katie absorbed her words before squinting at Jo. “You’re very good at your job, aren’t you?”
“I try,” Jo conceded.
Katie laced her fingers together in her lap. “All right. I was born in Altoona,” she said.
Jo leaned back in her rocking chair. “I’ve never been there. Is it nice?”
“It’s one of those old railroad towns,” she said, “you know the kind. A town filled with good, hardworkingpeople who are just trying to make a better life for themselves. And it was pretty, too, especially in the fall, whenthe leaves began to change. I used to think there was no place more beautiful in the world.” She lowered her eyes,half lost in memories. “I used to have a friend named Emily, and together we’d lay pennies on the railroad tracks.
After the train went past, we’d scramble around trying to find them, and when we did, we’d always marvel at howany trace of engraving would be completely gone. Sometimes the pennies were still hot. I remember almostburning my fingers one time. When I think back on my childhood, it’s mostly about small pleasures like that.”
Katie shrugged, but Jo remained silent, willing her to go on.
“Anyway, that’s where I went to school. All the way through. I ended up graduating from high school there, butby then, I don’t know… I guess I was tired of… all of it, you know? Small-town life, where every weekend was thesame. The same people going to the same parties, the same boys drinking beer in the beds of their pickup trucks.
I wanted something more, but college didn’t work out and, long story short, I ended up in Atlantic City. I workedthere for a while, moved around a bit, and now, years later, here I am.”
“In another small town where everything stays the same.”
Katie shook her head. “It’s different here. It makes me feel…”
When she hesitated, Jo finished the thought for her.
“Safe?”
When Katie’s startled gaze met hers, Jo seemed bemused. “It’s not that hard to figure out. Like you said, you’restarting over and what better place to start over than a place like this? Where nothing ever happens?” Shepaused. “Well, that’s not quite true. I heard there was a little excitement a couple of weeks back. When youdropped by the store?”
“You heard about that?”
“It’s a small town. It’s impossible not to hear about it. What happened?”
“It was scary. One minute, I was talking to Alex, and when I saw what was happening on the monitor, I guess henoticed my expression because in the next instant, he was racing past me. He moved through that store likelightning, and then Kristen saw the monitor and started to panic. I scooped her up and followed her dad. By thetime I got out there, Alex was already out of the water with Josh. I’m just glad he was okay.”
“Me, too.” Jo nodded. “What do you think of Kristen? Isn’t she just the sweetest thing?”
“She calls me Miss Katie.”
“I love that little girl,” Jo said, drawing her knees up to her chest. “But it doesn’t surprise me that the two of youget along. Or that she reached for you when she was scared.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because she’s a perceptive little thing. She knows you’ve got a good heart.”
Katie made a skeptical face. “Maybe she was just scared about her brother, and when her dad took off I wasthe only one there.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Like I said, she’s perceptive.” Jo pressed on. “How was Alex? Afterward, I mean?”
“He was still shaken up, but other than that, he seemed all right.”
“Have you talked to him much since then?”
Katie gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not too much. He’s always nice when I come into the store, and he stockswhat I need, but that’s about it.”
“He’s good about things like that,” Jo said with assurance.
“You sound like you know him pretty well.”
Jo rocked a little in her chair. “I think I do.”
Katie waited for more, but Jo was silent.
“You want to talk about it?” Katie inquired innocently. “Because talking sometimes helps, especially with afriend.”
Jo’s eyes sparkled. “You know, I always suspected you were a lot craftier than you let on. Throwing my ownwords back at me. You should be ashamed.”
Katie smiled but said nothing, just as Jo had done with her. And, surprising her, it worked.
“I’m not sure how much I should say,” Jo added. “But I can tell you this: he’s a good man. He’s the kind of manyou can count on to do the right thing. You can see that in how much he loves his kids.”
Katie brought her lips together for a moment. “Did you two ever see each other?”
Jo seemed to choose her words carefully. “Yes, but maybe not in the way you’re thinking. And just so we’reclear: it was a long time ago and everyone has moved on.”
Katie wasn’t sure what to make of her answer but didn’t want to press it. “What’s his story, by the way? I take ithe’s divorced, right?”
“You should ask him.”
“Me? Why would I want to ask him?”
“Because you asked me,” Jo said, arching an eyebrow. “Which means, of course, that you’re interested in him.
”
“I’m not interested in him.”
“Then why would you be wondering about him?”
Katie scowled. “For a friend, you’re kind of manipulative.”
Jo shrugged. “I just tell people what they already know, but are afraid to admit to themselves.”
Katie thought about that. “Just so we’re clear, I’m officially taking back my offer to help you paint your house.”
“You already said you’d do it.”
“I know, but I’m taking back the offer.”
Jo laughed. “Okay,” she said. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”
“I have to go to work in a little while. Actually, I should probably start getting ready.”
“How about tomorrow night? Are you working?”
“No. I have the weekend off.”
“Then how about I bring over a bottle of wine? I’m sure I’m going to need it, and I really don’t want to beinhaling the paint fumes any longer than I have to. Would that be okay?”
“Actually, that sounds like fun.”