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“Charlie and Ruby’s group is over here. Your and Sarah’s group is meeting at the back corner table. Perhaps you should join them,” Isabelle suggested, filling in the gaps the way she always did when Sophie got distracted. Three years older, her sister had always looked out for Sophie. For their mother, too, really.

“Yes.”

She should pay attention. Maybelle wouldn’t think a thing of calling her out in front of the entire room. It wouldn’t even be the first time for that, either. Maybelle had been her church Sunday school teacher several times over the years and had put a halt to Sophie’s daydreaming more than once.

She gave her sister an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Izzy.”

Sophie hurried back to where five people waited on her.

Rosie Matthews, Sarah Smith, Ben Preston, Andrew Scott, and Cole Aaron. How had she ended up giving the firemen all threes?

Having Cole in her group made her insides jittery, but it was unlikely she’d get a better chance to let him know his secrets were safe with her, that she knew more about what he’d gone through than he thought.

She’d lived it, too.

Not directly, as he had, but as the child of a father who had been unable to handle the battles taking place inside his head long after he’d returned to civilian life.

Pushing the memories aside before she fell down another rabbit hole of distraction, Sophie took a deep breath and smiled at her group. She knew everyone, of course, but Cole was probably a stranger to Rosie and Sarah. For his benefit, she asked the members to introduce themselves.

Rosie, still a vivacious free spirit even well into her sixties, batted her lashes at the three firemen, fluffed her dyed-blue hair, then held her hand out, palm down, as if she expected one of the men to lift it to his lips. Always the charmer, Ben complied.

“So nice to see you all, I’m sure,” she cooed, her Southern accent coming out thick and heavy. “If I’d recalled that Pine Hill’s fire department had the likes of you three and was younger, I’d have set my smoke alarm off and had y’all over for some of my grandmother’s famous cinnamon bread months ago.”

Eyes wide, Sophie and Sarah exchanged looks, both biting back smiles at their audacious older friend—and her well-known technique of using cinnamon bread as the way to a man’s heart. Sophie wasn’t sure of Rosie’s exact age, but the woman was still a teen at heart. A very flirty teen who saw herself so clearly as the belle of the ball that she was still able to convince others to see her that way, as well. She was engaged to a local diner owner who was crazy about her, but she’d yet to agree on a wedding date.

When it came to men, Rosie was more bark than bite—but she was a whole lot of bark.

Sophie adored her and had always been a bit in awe of the amount of energy she exuded.

“What Rosie means,” Sophie told the firemen, avoiding looking directly at Cole, “is that we’re glad to have you guys working with us this year. Welcome.”

Sarah and Rosie smiled, as did Ben. Andrew wore more of an amused smirk than a smile, and Cole just gave his friends a look that said he wondered what they’d gotten into and how quickly they could extricate themselves.

Disappointment settled heavily on Sophie.

“So, here’s our list of businesses to canvass.” Sophie pointed to the paper she held, determined not to let any of her nervousness surface despite the fact she was the source of amusement for two firefighters and the source of irritation for another. Lifting her chin and keeping her smile in place, she continued, “Our first order of business is to go by and talk with each one to see if they’ll let us put out collection boxes again this year, and if they’ll match last year’s cash donation or consider increasing.”

She glanced up, noted that ever

yone was looking at her—except Cole, who appeared as if he’d rather be anywhere than her group.

How awkward would it be if she offered to let him change? Would he even want to, since his friends had ended up in Group Three, too?

“We’ll divide the list, pair up, and go by each business over the next two weeks,” she told them, pressing forward. Maybe she could still salvage the situation and avoid seeing him for the most part. “Then, we’ll get together for coffee to compare notes and reassess what’s needed most.”

“Rosie,” Sarah stepped in before the older woman could offer to go with the men. “You’re with me. The extra time together to talk about wedding plans would be wonderful. You know how much I value your insight since Aunt Jean isn’t here for me to talk to.”

Along with Andrew’s grandmother Ruby, Rosie belonged to a group of women who called themselves the Butterflies. Sarah’s late aunt, Jean Hamilton, had also belonged to their group, along with Sophie’s Aunt Claudia, which was why she’d always given her nieces gifts decorated with butterflies. After Sarah’s mother had died, the Butterflies had taken her under their wings, and since Sarah had gotten engaged, all the Butterflies were eagerly contributing to her wedding plans.

“Oh, yes, that would be nice,” Rosie admitted.

“I rode over here with Andrew, so I’ll partner with him,” Ben offered, looking amused as he continued. “Guess that leaves Sophie stuck with our buddy.”

Smile instantly fading, Sophie’s cheeks heated as her gaze went back to the firemen. “I rode over with Andrew, too,” Cole said, frowning at his friend.

“Ben called dibs first, though.” Andrew pointed out with a grin.

“Um, well, we could divide up into two groups, the women and the men,” she offered, thinking that would give both Cole and her an out. She’d go with Sarah and Rosie, and Cole could go with his coworkers. Problem solved.