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“ H ow would you like to come with me to the Emporium, then visit Miss Lucy?”

Avery nodded enthusiastically and pushed her lunch plate away after taking the last bite of her sandwich. She scooted off her chair, as if prepared to go right now, a big smile on her face.

Tresia laughed, loving this child’s enthusiasm.

She still didn’t speak very much, but she was getting better, and a lot of their conversations now were not one-sided.

She’d learned in over the three weeks she’d been taking care of Avery that she was smarter than average…

and stubborn, like an old mule. That was all right. Sometimes stubbornness was all one had.

“There might be a lot of people there. Miss Lucy seems to always have someone at her house. Will you be all right with that?”

Avery nodded, perhaps hoping to see Savannah again. In one afternoon, the girls had become fast friends, bonding over their love of swinging and the caterpillar they’d found crawling in the grass.

“We’ll have to fix your hair.” So far, Avery insisted on doing it herself…and it showed. She also insisted on washing her hair herself in the bathtub, though she did allow Tresia to help her rinse the soap from it. Even her father wasn’t allowed to brush her hair. “Will you let me do that?”

The words, spoken so casually, made the smile fade from Avery’s face. Her lower lip began to tremble as she shook her head.

“We could tie it up in a pretty ribbon to show off your beautiful curls. We could brush Cecily’s hair, too, and put in a matching ribbon. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Again, Avery stubbornly shook her head and took a step away from the kitchen table, as if at a moment’s notice she would dart out of the house, her little legs carrying her far, far away.

Tresia crouched down and calmly reached for Avery’s hand, holding it very gently in her own. “Will you tell me why?”

“I promised not to tell,” Avery said quietly, clearly miserable, then clamped her mouth closed, as if she’d already said too much.

Those words rushed into Tresia’s heart, and suspicion flared. Who had hurt her and extracted a promise that should never have been made? “Promised not to tell who, sweetheart?”

“Daddy.”

“I see. But you can tell me, can’t you? I wouldn’t tell your daddy.”

She could see Avery was undecided, but Tresia just continued holding her hand, offering comfort and peace and, perhaps, a little courage.

It only took a moment more before Avery’s eyes darted toward Cecily sitting on a chair.

“Grandmama pulled my hair,” she whispered, her words clear and precise though very softly spoken.

“An’ then she cut it an’ hit me with the brush. ”

Taken aback, Tresia simply stared at her. Yes, Avery’s hair was short but curled around her head like a halo—she thought the style suited her. “Why would she do that?”

“She’s mean.”

“Is she?”

Avery nodded. This was why Avery had been reluctant to have anyone touch her hair, always saying she’d do it herself. Tresia had thought it was the girl’s independent streak, but now, knowing this, she realized Avery was afraid.

She gave her a reassuring squeeze of her hand then released the child. “I promise you I won’t be mean or hurt you. Do you believe me?”

Avery nodded.

“Bring me your brush. If you don’t like it or if I’m hurting you in any way, you can do it yourself.” She stood up, but her gaze never left Avery’s. “Can we try?”

Avery nodded again, even though there was a touch of fear in her eyes, then she ran up the stairs to her room. She returned within moments, an ornate silver brush in her hand, but didn’t enter the kitchen. She stood in the doorway, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

Instantly, Tresia’s heart flooded with sympathy. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I promise I won’t hurt you.” She pulled a kitchen chair away from the table. “Why don’t you hop up here?”

With a great deal of reluctance, Avery entered the kitchen, placed the offending item on the table, and crawled into the chair, lower lip beginning to tremble.

Tresia bent down low so she could look into her eyes. “You can tell me to stop at any time, all right?”

Avery nodded, but her eyes were huge in her face, like she could cry at any moment.

Tresia picked up the brush and very gently, very slowly ran the bristles through Avery’s soft, shiny curls. After a moment, she relaxed. Her eyes weren’t nearly as wide, nor did she look like she was about to run.

Tresia finished the task quickly, reluctant to push her luck. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Avery shook her head, her curls bouncing.

“I think we need a ribbon. A blue one. What do you think?”

“I don’t have any ribbons. Grandmama threw ’em away.”

Tresia, even though her heart was breaking for this little girl, smiled. “Well, then, we’ll just have to get you some. Would you like that?”

Avery smiled and whispered, “Yes.”

A short time later, Avery’s hand in hers, Tresia stepped into the Emporium as the little bell over the door rang its familiar tinkling sound.

Until three weeks ago when she’d quit, that sound, that bell, had been part of her life almost every day.

Hearing it now reminded her of how quickly her life could change.

Here she was holding a sweet child’s hand, walking into this place she had loved for so long, to buy hair ribbons.

The store seemed…empty. Neglected. Shadowed. There were no customers. There was no one on the floor at all—not Arnold, not Willetta. There was dust on the displays and dirt on the floors, as if no one had cleaned since she’d been gone.

A sudden pain flashed in her chest. Seeing Sullivan’s Emporium now brought home the truth that Arnold should never have been given the store in the first place.

It should have remained in her possession.

She would have taken care of it like it deserved.

But then, she wouldn’t have been introduced to the cute little girl who held her hand and her handsome father.

If the truth were told, she loved Avery Goodrich more and more every day.

As for Devlin, yes, she was growing quite fond of him as well.

He was a good man, reminding her every so often of Brett and her own father.

She clutched Avery’s hand a bit tighter and waited. And waited a little longer before moving toward the ribbons on display.

Taking a ribbon from the rack where they hung, she held it up against Avery’s face. “I like this one. It matches your eyes. What do you think?”

Avery reached for a purple ribbon. “This one.” She held it up and motioned for her to lean down a bit, then held it against Tresia’s cheek. A wide smile lit the girl’s face.

“What are you doing here?”

The familiar voice startled Tresia, but she didn’t have to turn to see who it belonged to. Willetta. Arnold’s wife. A harridan who defined the word perfectly. She waited for the beratement that was surely coming as footsteps came closer. She didn’t have long to wait.

“I asked what you’re doing here,” Willetta said as she came closer, her voice rising. “You don’t belong here. You quit. Left us without notice. After Arnold and I were so good to you.”

The belligerent tone, as well as the lie, struck her immediately, but Tresia straightened and turned to face the woman. She couldn’t say, in all honesty, that she missed Willetta Sullivan. Her life was so much better since she didn’t have to put up with her cousin-in-law’s nasty attitude.

“Is that the way you treat all your customers?” she asked before her gaze roamed the store, landing on several displays that hadn’t been touched in days. “No wonder the store is empty.”

Willetta’s round cheeks turned a bright pink, which matched the dress she wore. The color contrasted sharply with her dull, dishwater blonde hair and pasty white skin. Her equally dull brown eyes narrowed, becoming tiny slits in her plump face. “You’re not a customer.”

“I am a customer,” she insisted, then grabbed a few more ribbons from the display, regardless of color and length, and held them out.

“And from the looks of it, I’m the first…

and only…customer you’ve had today.” When Willetta did not take the ribbons, Tresia pulled her hand back, calmly walked to the register, and simply waited.

Willetta just stared at her for the longest time then, as if realizing she had no choice, let out a huff of disgust and walked over to the counter.

The sale was made quickly and silently, though the expression on Willetta’s face left no doubt she wasn’t happy.

If looks could kill, Tresia would be dead right where she stood.

There was no love lost between them, and at that moment, she knew they would never be anything but civil, if that, with each other though she’d tried at one point to become friends with the woman.

Her attempts had been swiftly rebuffed, which had hurt at the time, but no longer mattered.

Willetta placed the ribbons in a small brown bag along with a handwritten receipt, the stub of which remained in the receipt book, and handed it to her, seemingly anxious to have her gone so she could go back to what she was doing…which was probably nothing.

“I’m here to pick up the account books as well.”

Willetta stiffened as the bright spots of color adorning her pale cheeks spread to encompass her entire face. “The b…books?” she stammered.

“Yes. I told Arnold when I quit that I would continue to keep the books. He agreed. Seemed relieved actually.”

The woman’s lips tightened before she let out another huff of disgust. “He didn’t mention anything to me.”

Tresia stared at Willetta, not willing to give an inch. “Doesn’t matter if he discussed it with you or not. I said I will continue to keep the books so if you wouldn’t mind…”

Willetta just looked at her, body stiff, mouth pursed in a moue of loathing before she simply…deflated. “I’ll get the books.” She stepped away from the register, then stopped and turned to face her. “You wait here.”

“Of course.”