Free Laura Abbot by Belleporte Summer

fault Ellen, who had been particularly welcoming, inviting Laurel to supper once and another time to the movies in Lake City. She was generous and fun, the kind of friend Laurel could have confided in. Except whenever Ellen mentioned Ben, Laurel heard the skipped beat in her voice.
    Laurel pulled down her stocking cap over her ears and began jogging back toward town. A couple of times Ben had brought his sister Megan to the store. Laurel was immediately drawn to her infectious personality and appreciated the girl’s genuine curiosity about the merchandise. On her second visit, Megan had tentatively asked if Laurel needed any part-time summer help. “I can do better than that,” Laurel had responded. On the spot she’d offered Megan a job—part-time until school was out and then full-time over the summer.
    Ben had drawn her aside. “Are you sure? She’s just a kid.”
    Recalling the look on his face, Laurel chuckled to herself as she dodged the runoff from a breaking wave. It was as if Ben had said, Another of your impulses? Yet she already knew hiring the teenager was one of her soundest decisions. Megan had started coming in voluntarily after school to help sort stock, even though she wouldn’t officially be on the payroll until the first of April.
    At Megan’s suggestion, Laurel had even engaged Mike Nolan to move boxes on Saturdays. Later in the spring, he’d tend to the lawn and plantings.
    But had it been a good idea to surround herself with Nolans? Or had she subconsciously been ensuring that she’d see Ben? Because no matter how much she tried to talk herself out of it, she had by no means lost interest in him.
    The pounding surf dinned in her ears, reminding her that you couldn’t force nature. Either there was something between her and Ben or there wasn’t.
    And despite evidence to the contrary, she was convinced there was.
     

    B EN FOUND the dark interior of the Rathskeller oddly soothing, despite the volume of conversation from nearby tables. While he waited for Jay Kelley, in town briefly from Chicago, he absently studied the collection of steins aligned on a shelf behind the bar. The pub was a Lake City landmark, the first place locals frequented when they were old enough to buy a drink, carving their initials and dates into the worn tables to mark the occasion. He and Jay had been no exception. It seemed like a long time ago.
    Ben sighed. Now they were adults, weighed down by responsibilities to their families. It was a different world from their carefree adolescent days, and his recent trip to Grand Rapids to visit Bess had demonstrated that all too clearly. She was getting nowhere with Darren, who refused to admit his drinking problem, much less do anything about it. Frazzled and weepy, his sister had fallen apart when she’d confided in him.
    There was one big difference between him and Jay, though. His friend didn’t have money worries.
    He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, and on top of everything else, he was having a tough time keeping away from Laurel Eden. Every time he saw her, he wanted to take her in his arms and stare into her dusky eyes again. Willpower was killing him. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Actually, he didn’t even want to.
    “Hey, Ben, why the long face?” Jay slipped in across the booth from him. “We’re celebrating, remember?”
    Ben worked up a smile and shook Jay’s hand. “I was waiting for you before beginning the party. Happy birthday, pal.”
    “Thanks. Seems appropriate to be spending it here. Nobody in Chicago goes as far back with me as you do.”
    Ben chuckled. “Are you sure you want me to remind you of the past?”
    “Hmm. Maybe some things are better left to the mists of time.” Jay signaled the waitress, pointed to Ben’s beer and held up two fingers. Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So tell me, are you getting my Granny Sullivan settled?”
    “Your grandmother is a rare lady. I expected her to be