Free Take a Chance on Me by Susan May Warren Page A

around the roots. Already they looked happier.
    She glanced at the sky, the way fingers of twilight stretched out over the heavens. She would have been here earlier, but for the fact that she’d taken an extra shift today. Please, Lord, help them grow.
    Claire carried the containers into the small storage shed behind the library, left her gloves there, then hopped on her bike and rode it down the street to her apartment. One of the perks of living in a small town—she didn’t need a car. Not that she didn’t like her Yaris, but sometimes she just loved riding her bike to work and home again, under the starlight.
    Her next shift started in ten minutes—not enough time for a shower. She pulled on the black-jeans-and-black-shirt uniform, pinned on her badge, worked her visor over her ponytail, then threw her apron in her over-the-shoulder backpack before scrambling down the stairs and out the back door of the bookstore.
    She cast a look up at her new neighbor’s place—dark. Apparently the new assistant county attorney worked late hours also.
    She hopped on her bike and pedaled to Pierre’s, clocking in a minute late. Shoot.
    The place looked deserted. No late-night rush tonight, the twenty booths and tables in the main room hosting only a handful of diners. She loved Pierre’s, with fishing lures and mounted trout, snowshoes and old Coca-Cola signs, pictures of local hockey teams pinned to the wall. A few framed newspapers heralded Deep Haven events, like the state champion football team and the time their local author, Joe Michaels, won the National Book Award.
    Making her way into the kitchen, she breathed in fresh bakedcalzones, tangy homemade sauce, the scent of fresh vegetables. Tucker Newman stood at the assembly board, working on a Hawaiian pizza. It always cheered her to see him in a hairnet and apron, creating pizza as if it were a work of art. Something had happened to the snowboarder since he started dating Colleen Decker last year. Sometimes she spotted him eating pizza with her family and laughing.
    He hadn’t exactly laughed in the first few months he’d begun working here. She had thought he wouldn’t last.
    But that wasn’t her call.
    Claire read the schedule. They’d put her on the cash register tonight, but with Curt McCormick already manning the counter, restocking cups and napkins and looking as if he might perish from boredom, it seemed that perhaps she could do more damage prepping for tomorrow. She pulled a container of fresh mushrooms from the stainless fridge and headed over to the prep center.
    Grace Christiansen stood cutting onions, her blonde hair captured by a hairnet. “I thought you’d gone home for the day,” she said, looking miserable.
    “Double shift today. I don’t mind. I thought you were off tonight.” She picked up a mushroom and began to wipe it clean with a paper towel.
    “I was, but I got off early the other night and I’m making up hours. Tiger landed in the ER and Mom was pretty frantic trying to find Darek.”
    Claire stilled, a cold fist in her chest. “What happened?”
    “He fell off Casper’s old bunk and cut his forehead. Needed seven stitches.” Grace shook her head even as she dumped the onions in a stainless steel container. “I think an angel must havecaught him because he could have lost an eye. He nicked a pair of Owen’s skates he’d been playing with before bed.”
    “Is he okay?”
    “He’s fine. He bounces back. I’m more worried about Darek. He practically came unraveled. Blamed himself for not being there—”
    “Where was he?”
    “Out on a date.” She picked up another onion and grimaced.
    “Wanna trade?” Claire asked.
    Grace shook her head and started to peel the onion. “He was at that bachelor auction—some woman bought him.”
    Claire had created a nice pile of cleaned mushrooms. “Her name is Ivy. She’s real pretty—red hair, shorter, but cute. She told me she’s the new assistant county attorney.”
    “You met