She smiled. "Exactly."

"Penny, what am I going to do without you?" he whispered around a breath. Only after did he realize he'd mistakenly uttered that question loud enough for her to hear.

"Maybe you'll miss me," she said simply. Then, as if she'd just realized what she said, her eyes widened and her cheeks bloomed brightly. "I mean, maybe you'll miss our friendship."

He knew he was going to miss a lot of things. "I know I'll miss you, Penny."

"I'm going to miss you, too."

But when he met her eyes, it occurred to him that they both knew something else, something they hadn't said aloud. They might want the same things, they might even yearn for things to be different. But that didn't mean they would be able to get what they wanted. Sometimes that was an impossibility, better left to the dreamers and romantics.

Not to people like them.

CHAPTER 23.

By Thursday evening, Beverly had a full house. While she was glad about that, she couldn't resist thinking that she would've appreciated one or two empty rooms. As it was, she found herself running back and forth between the kitchen and the gathering rooms, the bedrooms and the office, doing her best to keep all of her guests happy and satisfied. She'd learned long ago that it only took one bad experience for a guest to elect to never return and tell their friends about it, too.

She couldn't have that.

To his credit, Eric was helping quite a bit. He had volunteered to take over the reservations and billings, and it was amazing how much her mind eased knowing that part of her business was in his capable hands.

But at the moment, with Eric wrist-deep in dough, she was beginning to fear for her bread's safety.

"Now what, Bev? Should I knead it some more?"

Eyeing the dough critically, she frowned. It looked a little too shiny, a little too smooth. Actually, it bordered on being kneaded into something resembling old gum. "Nee!" she called out, perhaps with a bit too much force.

When he flinched, she smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I mean, um, it's been kneaded enough. More than enough."

Immediately, he raised his hands in surrender. "Uh-oh. Did I use too much pressure?"

She grinned. "I don't know if that's the right descriptor. It's more like you've been declared the winner in your fight with the dough." Looking at the sad lump he'd just placed in the bowl, she teased, "It didn't stand a chance."

He frowned. "Did I ruin it?"

"I don't think so." Grabbing a clean white dishtowel, she flicked it open and covered the bowl, then pointed to the sink. "It should be okay. But now you should probably wash your hands. I'm afraid my kitchen won't be the same if we don't get you cleaned up." As it was, almost every inch of the counters and floor were covered with a fine coating of flour.

Walking to the sink, he smiled at her. "Thanks for letting me in your domain today. It's been a lot of fun."

"Eric, you don't have to thank me. It's your kitchen, too."

"I might own the building, but we both know which of us belongs at the Orange Blossom Inn."

His words were so sweet, she looked at him gratefully. "Thanks for saying that."

"It's the truth."

Their eyes met again, and suddenly something soft and sweet and dear pa.s.sed through them. Maybe they were going to become friends, after all. Amazing how the Lord always seemed to make everything turn out all right.

"You know," she began, "it sure seems as though-"

"Excuse me, Aunt Beverly," Tricia said as she peeked through the opening of the swinging kitchen door. "But there's someone here for Eric. Have you seen him?"

Eric turned off the sink. "I'm right here, Tricia."

"Oh! Well, yes you are. You have a visitor."

Grabbing a handful of paper towels, he asked, "Is it John from the bank?"

"Nee." Looking right pleased with herself, she said, "It's Amy from Pennsylvania."

"Amy?" Grabbing another paper towel, he rubbed it vigorously between his hands before tossing it on the counter. "Where is she?"

"I put her in the gathering room. Is that all right?"

"Perfect," he said before flying out the door . . . and reminding Beverly that although they might be forming a friendship, there certainly wasn't going to be room for anything more.

Not that she'd been hoping for that, of course.

Unable to help herself, Beverly left the kitchen and peeked into the gathering room, making sure to keep out of sight. The last thing she wanted was for Eric to see her spying on him. Though she wasn't spying, exactly. She was simply interested in who this mysterious Amy was. Yes, it was simply curiosity. That was all. But the moment she caught sight of them, Beverly realized she could have strode into the center of the room and danced in circles.

She would have bet money that they wouldn't have noticed a thing.

Eric had a very pretty, very pet.i.te, brown-haired woman in his arms. The woman's arms were looped around his neck. Probably holding on for dear life, Beverly mused, because Eric was currently kissing that woman like he was a starving man and Amy's lips were all he needed for sustenance.

Beverly's cheeks flushed. She knew she should look away. They obviously thought they were alone. And though she was slightly shocked, there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, either. Eric had told her he had a girlfriend. And, well, they'd been apart for weeks now.

So there was no real reason for her to feel the things she was feeling.

Turning on her heel, she rushed to a back hallway, wishing with every step that she had never peeked into that room in the first place.

Because now, that vision of Eric and Amy locked in a pa.s.sionate embrace had firmly embedded itself in her brain. And for the life of her, she couldn't seem to stop replaying it.

Beverly knew why, of course.

Seeing Eric and Amy had spurred visions of her and Marvin together, back when they were mere months away from marrying. Though, never had Marvin kissed her like that. His kisses had been sedate. Quiet. Controlled.

She'd a.s.sumed that had been how everyone kissed, but now she realized that some key components had been missing: Pa.s.sion. Desire. Yearning. It had all been missing and she hadn't even realized it.

Suddenly she understood why he had turned to Regina.

Oh, of course what they'd done was bad. They should have told her about their feelings for each other long before they did, but now, at last, Beverly could at least understand what Marvin had been searching for.

Tears p.r.i.c.ked her eyes. This awful realization-that not only had she never experienced such pa.s.sion, but she'd never imagined it could exist-was as painful a lesson as any she'd ever learned. It was also, she believed, a fairly terrible thing to come to terms with at thirty-four years of age.

As she returned to the kitchen in a daze, Tricia looked up from the ca.s.serole dish she was drying and frowned. "Aunt Bev, you okay? You look kind of like you've seen a ghost."

Beverly forced herself to laugh. "Of course I'm fine, dear. I've never been better."

Lying about herself, unfortunately, was something she did have experience with. In spades.

MICHAEL HAD JUST SETTLED into one of the comfortable chairs by the kitchen when Tricia handed him a portable phone. "It's for you, Michael," she said before returning to the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the swinging door in her wake.

"h.e.l.lo?" Michael asked, wondering which member of the family had decided to call this time.

"Hi! How are you feeling?" Evan asked.

"Better."

"How much better?" he pressed.

"I'm out of bed today."

"Really? That's wunderbaar."

"I think so, too. I'm sitting in a chair just outside the kitchen. Beverly's been baking bread. It smells like heaven."

"It sounds like heaven. I'm standing outside of tonight's amphitheater. We've got a record crowd, though half of them are rapidly turning churlish because they've already heard you aren't here in upstate New York. It's also pouring down rain."

Glad Evan couldn't see him, Michael grinned. "The rain is a real shame, especially since you all are touring the area."

"Yeah. I hate wearing wet clothes."

"Don't blame you for that." He hated it, too. "Hope Mamm and Daed are keeping warm and dry."

"They're fine," Evan muttered in a distracted way as he shuffled his cell phone against his cheek. "Listen, I can't talk too long, but we do need to get something settled."

"What's that?" Though, of course, it was practically a rhetorical question, because he knew what Evan was going to ask.

"Do you have your calendar in front of you?"

Unfortunately, he'd had Tricia help him with his book and his calendar when he decided to go downstairs. So his planner was standing open right in front of him. As he stared at the expanse of beautiful empty squares, he swallowed back a lump of regret. "Jah," he said at last. "I've got it open to May."

"How does being in Texas in June sound?"

Too soon. Hedging a bit, he asked, "When in June?"

"June first." Impatience settled in Evan's voice. "When do you think?"

"Hey, I'm just asking."

"Well, I'm just asking, too. I'm getting mighty tired of disappointing your fans."

Evan sounded beyond tired and cranky. He sounded exhausted. Guilt bit at Michael, making him realize that he'd been fooling himself to actually think he could give everything up and start a new life in Sarasota. "I'll have to double-check with the doctors but I'll let you know as soon as I can."

"When?"

"I don't know. By the end of the week?"

"Michael, I know your stump has got to heal and all, but the rest of the world is moving forward. I've got to tell those folks in Brownsville yay or nay. They're waiting on you. We're waiting on you."

"You all can go to Brownsville without me."

"Nee, we actually can't." Evan's voice was flat. "This group only wants to book us if you are going to be there."

"Why don't we wait on it, then? Maybe push it back a few months?"

"Because they've promised they can bring in a big crowd if you are there then. As much as it pains me to remind you of this, you are the main draw. The rest of us are simply filler."

"You know that's not true."

"No, you know that is true. Michael, I'm not giving you false compliments, merely saying how it is."

"It's not exactly that way."

"It is. What's happening in Brownsville ain't a surprise and we both know it. Everywhere we go, you are the star, not the rest of us."

"I didn't ask for that."

"I know, but just because you didn't ask for it doesn't mean it didn't happen. G.o.d gave you a gift, and it's being able to tell a crowd your story. There's no shame in acknowledging that."

Staring at the blank slate of his calendar, Michael knew what he had to do. There were some things far more important than mere wants or feelings. "Tell Mamm and Daed that I'll meet everyone in Brownsville."

"You sure?"

There was such hope in Evan's voice, Michael knew he'd be there even if his stump was not completely healed. "I'm sure."

"Thank the Lord. Okay, then. I'll let them know. And now I'll be letting you go. See you in a couple of weeks."

That much time had already pa.s.sed? "Jah."

"Let me know if you want me to fly to Sarasota and help you travel. I'll be happy to."

Michael knew that to be true. Evan would fly all night, would do whatever it took to be there for him. He'd always been there for him. "I think I'll be all right, but I'll let you know."

"Great. See you then."

When Michael hung up, he grimaced. As much as he might talk or act like he was ready for a change, he wasn't ready to let his family down. He owed them too much. He loved them too much.

And that meant, of course, that he was going to have to find a way to tell Penny that he was leaving for good about a week earlier than planned. For all his big talk about proposals and living life to the fullest, it seemed dreams weren't always meant to come true.