Page 31 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

T he afternoon lull had finally settled over the diner, wrapping the place in a kind of cozy stillness that Laurel had grown to love.

She also appreciated the appearance of the regulars and the not-so-regular regulars, like the good tipper with the scar on his hand who’d been in twice this week, always quiet, always polite.

There was a mother with two young kids here on vacation for a few days, and a pair of retired ranchers who stopped in for coffee and pie every Thursday like it was a sacred ritual.

Inhaling, she smiled. The comforting aromas of coffee, brewed tea, warm syrup, and fryer oil hung in the air like a familiar hug. Thank goodness she couldn’t gain calories from a sense of smell.

Still smiling, she slipped into the back, brushing her ponytail off her neck as she stepped into the kitchen, and grabbed one of the cold bottles of lemonade from the fridge. Pete and Belinda were chatting through the pass-through opening, debating the best dessert combo for the weekend special.

“Back in five,” she told them, holding up her bottle before stepping into the office.

Annie sat at the small desk, flipping through some receipts with her reading glasses perched low on her nose. A purple scarf covered her freshly trimmed hair, and her wrist brace was now a less bulky model, though still snug enough to remind her to take it easy.

“You hiding back here for the air conditioning or the peace?” Laurel asked, leaning a hip against the doorframe.

Annie didn’t look up. “Both. And the company’s not bad either.”

Laurel smiled and came in, flopping down on the extra chair beside the desk. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better,” Annie said, setting the receipts aside and pulling off her glasses. “Which is good, since round two is coming up next week.”

She nodded, sobering. “You nervous?”

“No.” Her aunt gave her a sideways glance. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more eager for this to be behind me than I was the first time.”

“Well, after this one, you’ll be all set,” Laurel said, offering her a hopeful smile. “No more surgery. No more stitches. Just healing and me running this place and the storefront building into the ground while you recover.”

Annie snorted. “You’d have to try pretty damn hard to do worse than Pete’s special this morning.”

“That bad?”

“I’m not saying it barked back, but I’m also not saying it didn’t.”

Laurel laughed, the sound easing something tight in her chest. “Baloney. Pete never made a bad dish in his life, and you know it.”

Annie reached out and patted her knee. “You’ve been good to me, kiddo. This place, the building…you’ve stepped into a whole storm and haven’t once backed down. I see it. I’m proud.”

A warm lump swelled in Laurel’s throat, but she forced a smirk. “You getting all sentimental because you’re hopped up on pain meds again?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Her aunt snorted. “I mean it. I’m grateful. And not just for the help. You’re part of this place now.”

Laurel’s heart stuttered.

Part of this place.

It wasn’t the first time someone had said it, but it was the first time it felt like the truth.

Before the emotion could dig in too deep, Annie added, “So, just do me one favor.”

Laurel tilted her head. “Anything.”

“Try not to let that brooding Delta boy distract you too much. We’ve got customers who still expect pie, or at the very least, coffee first thing in the morning.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “It was one late shift. And only by five minutes.”

“Five and a half.” Aunt Annie raised a brow, her blue eyes twinkling. “And one very telling smile when you walked in this morning.”

Unwilling to go there, Laurel sat back as she changed the subject. “So…have you thought about a name for the building yet?”

Annie blinked. “The old furniture store?”

She nodded. “It’s more than just that now. With everything you’re building—those storefronts, the apartments—it feels like it deserves something new. Something that still commemorates him.”

For a moment, Annie didn’t answer. Her gaze softened as it drifted toward the framed photo on the shelf behind Laurel. She knew the one. It was taken over two decades ago. Her aunt and uncle stood on the store’s front steps, both grinning, arms around each other, laughter caught mid-moment.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Annie said finally, her voice low. “A few things floated around, but…Winslow Crossing keeps coming back to me. It’s simple. Steady. Feels like him.”

Laurel smiled, her throat warm and chest tight. “It’s perfect.”

“Yeah.” Her aunt’s eyes misted. “He would’ve liked that. Hated the fuss, but secretly proud. He loved our community.”

“Then that’s the one,” Laurel said softly. “Winslow Crossing. Feels like home.”

Annie smiled gently, then reached for her tea. “He’d have rolled his eyes at all the commotion, of course, but he’d have loved having his name on the building. Probably would’ve tried to negotiate for a parking spot with his name on it, too.”

She laughed. “Reserved for the boss?”

Aunt Annie lifted her mug in a mock toast. “Only if the boss gets to nap in the back room after lunch.”

Laurel was still smiling when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the number. Unknown, but with a California area code.

She hesitated a second before answering, “Hello?”

A bright, warm voice greeted her. “Hi, is this Laurel Sinclair?”

“It is,” she replied, straightening a little. “Who’s calling?”

“Oh! Sorry, this is Jenna Blake. Rylee gave me your number. I’m looking to relocate to Harland, and she mentioned you might have a storefront available, with an apartment above?”

Laurel blinked. “Yes! Yes, actually, we do. A few, in fact.”

“That’s what I was hoping,” Jenna said, her enthusiasm contagious.

“My sister and I are planning to open a DIY and craft shop together. Something fun and hands-on, but cozy, too. It’s been our dream for years, and when Rylee told me about your aunt’s building project…

well, it just felt like a sign. Now’s the time. ”

Laurel’s heart flipped a little. She shot a glance toward Annie, who perked up at the mention of someone interested in the space.

“I’m so glad you called,” Laurel said, already picturing the empty storefront at the other end of the building brought to life.

“We’d love to have you here. There’s a unit that will be available in two weeks.

It could be a perfect fit.” Laurel knew she should’ve offered up the one she was in, but something held her back.

“Sounds great. And there’s an apartment above, right?” Jenna asked. “We were hoping to live above the shop, at least until we’re settled.”

“Yes. And it’s one of the larger units,” Laurel said, knowing that the apartment at the opposite side of the building was the next to be finished, and it spanned front to back like hers. “You’d be the first to live in it.”

Jenna gave a soft laugh. “Okay, now I’m officially excited. Any chance we could schedule a video call in the next day or two to see the space?”

“Absolutely.” Laurel grabbed a pen from Annie’s desk and scribbled Jenna’s name across a sticky note. “Let me get back to you with a few time slots. I want to check with the designer first.”

And also do a background check, although she had the feeling it wouldn’t be necessary if she was a friend of the Brysons.

As they exchanged details, Annie gave her a thumbs up, clearly having overheard just enough.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Laurel said, ending the call and slipping the phone into her pocket, still smiling.

“Well?” Annie asked, lifting a brow.

“Well,” Laurel replied, barely containing her grin, “looks like Winslow Crossing might’ve just found its first full-time tenants.”

Annie’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t you mean second?”

Laurel’s heart skipped a beat. “Not sure what you mean,” she said, lying through her teeth.

“Yes, you do.” Her aunt leaned back in her chair, giving her one of those don’t bullshit me looks. “You’re already living there, looking after the building, practically settled in. Whether you open a storefront or lease it to someone else—that’s your choice.”

Laurel hesitated. “But my parents—”

“Will be fine without you,” Annie cut in gently. “Who’s taking care of things while you’re gone?”

“Aaron,” she said with a shrug. “My assistant.”

Annie lifted a brow. “And has he called in a panic? Set anything on fire?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Then it sounds like you trained him well enough to handle things without you.” Annie gave a satisfied nod. “You’ve done your part, Laurel. Now it’s time to figure out what you want. Maybe…a bookstore?”

Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “Did Rylee tell you that?”

“My wrists may be busted, but my brain still works fine.” Annie chuckled. “Your uncle and I always thought you’d end up doing something with books. You had your nose in one from the moment you could walk.”

Laurel smiled, remembering the old pictures of her toddler self curled up with a book three times her size.

“And I’ll tell you this,” Annie said, reaching for her mug again.

“You living in that building, running it, opening a bookstore on the same ground where you used to read when you were little? Your uncle would’ve loved that.

You, building a life for yourself under his roof? That would’ve meant the world to him.”

Laurel’s throat went tight again, emotion creeping in like a tide. But she felt it too—that stirring sense of something real taking root.

Maybe…just maybe… her dreams were finally within reach.

***

T he late afternoon sun slanted through the windows as Laurel stood in her living room, watching Brandi direct her team like a woman on a mission. More lamps were being placed. Curtain rods installed. Boxes labeled bath and kitchen were being unpacked at lightning speed.

“You really don’t waste time,” Laurel said, amused.

Brandi flashed a grin. “Oh, I waste plenty of time. Just not when I’m on a deadline.”

“Well, you don’t have to waste it in this apartment anymore,” Laurel said. “I can take it from here.”