Free Letters and Lace (The Ronan's Harbor Series) by M. Kate Quinn

Why, oh why, did this talented, beautiful, smart woman resort to the gathering of conquests like buds in a vase?
    Gigi went to the ribbon rack. “You’re using the mommy voice.”
    “I’ll tell you what. Let’s not go anywhere near this guy. After this is all settled, if you want, you can go for it—since you’re so anxious. Screw him to the wall for all I care.”
    Gigi let out a loud crack of laughter. “I seriously love when you talk dirty.”
    “Can’t you, like, take up stamp collecting or something?”
    Her friend laughed again and shook her head as if Sarah was the crazy one. She cut a long strand of red ribbon with one clean slice from her scissors.
    ****
    Sarah put the accordion file away in the bottom drawer of her dresser—under the skimpy camisoles she’d never wear but Gigi still insisted on buying her for birthdays. She thought again of her friend and shook her head.
    She couldn’t decide if Gigi had an overwhelming sense of herself, or not enough of one. Either way, it was worrisome.
    Sarah gazed into the standing antique mirror surveying her own look. Not bad. Not good, either. True, lately she’d lost her urge for the treadmill and her hand weights sat in a wicker basket near the closet. But she was active. She was healthy and all her clothes still fit. Well, most of them.
    She leaned in close to her image to get a better look at her face; to survey what she already knew was there. The tiny lines around her plain brown eyes seemed to multiply day by day, vying to outnumber the freckles that peppered her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Well, that would fix her for detesting those freckles all her life. Now they were the preferred blemish.
    She patted her nondescript brown hair. It was frizzed today, unruly, the way it always looked now that she had stopped the tedious treatments involved with forcing the smooth silkiness that Gary had preferred.
    He would cluck his tongue at this image , she thought. Truthfully, everything about the way she appeared now was a contradiction to her former spouse’s standards for her. She was the antithesis of her old self.
    And she was starting to like this person looking out at her. After all, this was her. It was this woman that would tackle this new, horrible set of problems. She turned off the light and shut the door.
    The wedding caterer called to go over menu plans and Sarah made arrangements to meet with them when Hannah arrived on Saturday. So what if the town wasn’t on board with the wedding. Plans as usual , she decided. Act as if.
    Norman Wallace delivered the mail to her door again and gave her one of his sheepish grins. “Hello, there, Sarah. How are you today?”
    Norman was a nice enough guy, kind of sweet. Hannah’s teasing words filtered into her thoughts. Was it true that Norman was interested in her? She tried to imagine it.
    In a flash she saw a scene in her head of herself in Norman’s arms dancing at Hannah’s wedding, the way she had danced with Benny. The idea made her shudder.
    It had been a long time since she felt that whirly stir inside her body when in close proximity to an appealing, available man. But, she sure as hell knew when the feeling was absent. Leave it to her to pick a crazy one—hell-bent on ruining her life.
    “Weather’s holding out, huh?” Norman said.
    “What?” she startled back to attention. “Yes, no rain in the forecast.”
    She saw the tender look in his eyes again and, frankly, it shamed her that his affect was borderline appall. “Norman, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to offer you tea today. Busy with Hannah’s wedding plans, you know.”
    “Is that going to, you know, be okay?” he asked tentatively.
    “Of course.” Her insides folded in on themselves. Were people jabbering about this? Would word make its way to Hannah’s ears?
    “Down at Gilbert’s the guys were talking,” Norman said. “You know how that goes. Anything worth mentioning in this little town goes right to the