Page 13 of At First Spark
The woman laughs softly and reaches toward the display, picking up a tomato with the certainty of someone who knows her way around every inch of this store.
“Found him?”
“On the side of the road.”
Her expression changes immediately. Not pity. Something gentler and sharper than that. “Poor thing.”
“That seems to be the general consensus.”
“He’s lucky you stopped.”
The words land in a strange place. Lucky. I’m not sure either one of us qualifies at the moment.
The woman sets the tomato back and extends her free hand. “Claire Wright.”
I shift the dog enough to free one hand and shake hers. “Lark Carrington.”
Something flickers across her face. Recognition. Not from meeting me before. From the name.
“Carrington,” she repeats. “As in the inn.”
There it is. This town moves fast.
I tighten my grip on the dog and nod once. “That’s me.”
Claire’s gaze sharpens just enough to tell me she’s piecing things together in real time. New woman in town. Dog under one arm. Cart full of cleaning supplies. Name attached to the old inn.
“And you’re staying out there,” she says.
Not a question.
I almost smile.
“Is everyone in Coral Bell Cove psychic?”
“No, honey. Just curious.”
That gets me. A real, startled laugh slips out before I can stop it. Claire smiles like she’s made a note of that somewhere.
“Well,” she says, glancing at the cart, “you’re either braver than most or too stubborn to know better.”
“I’ve been accused of both.”
“Mm.” She reaches for a cucumber and drops it into her basket. “That place needs love.”
It’s such a simple thing to say. So much kinder than sensible. Kinder than impractical. Kinder thanAre you sure you want that burden?
I look at her more closely. There’s steadiness in her. The kind that doesn’t need to perform itself loudly.
“It does,” I say.
“And your dog needs a bath.”
I glance down. “Also true.”
Claire’s mouth twitches. “Come by my place sometime. Otter Creek Farm. I’ll give you the name of the best roofer in town and some proper dog shampoo.”
I blink. We have known each other for less than three minutes. She just invited me to a farm. And somehow, it doesn’t feel strange. It feels like this town does not understand the concept of gradual involvement.
