The Protector's Promise

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you don’t have an impractical bone in your body. Everything has got to be planned out and scheduled and perfectly in line. Unless it is, you just can’t enjoy yourself.”

“And is it so wrong to want things to go smoothly?” Stung by her sister-in-law’s assessment, Honor turned and grabbed a box from the floor, pulling out a few framed photographs that were wrapped in brown paper and setting them on the end table.

“No, but sometimes it’s okay to not have all the answers. Sometimes it’s good to just go with the flow.”

“‘Going with the flow’ often means being dragged by a current carrying you where you don’t want to go.” Jay had been a prime example of that. His laid-back attitude had resulted in more trouble than Honor cared to remember. Unpaid bills, missed appointments, paychecks spent before they ever made it to the bank. That had been Jay’s life. It would never again be Honor’s.

“Probably, but in this case, it just means accepting a gift from a secret admirer. A secret admirer! How cool is that?”

Not cool, creepy, but Honor decided not to say that to Candace. “Really cool. Is Lily still in her room?”

“She was sitting on her bed looking dejected when I checked on her.” Candace didn’t seem to care that Honor had changed the subject. Her gaze was on the flowers, a soft smile playing at her lips. Did she dream of finding a handsome prince to carry her away? In all the years she’d been living with Honor, Candace had never mentioned wanting to date, get married or have children.

And Honor knew better than to ask. Candace was as close-mouthed about her dreams as Jay had been verbal. “I guess I’d better go deal with our little escape artist.”

“I’ll put the flowers on the dining room table. They’ll look nice there.”

For some reason, the thought of having the flowers sitting in the middle of the table while she enjoyed a meal with the girls didn’t sit well with Honor. “No. Just leave them here. They’re too pretty to put in the dining room. We’ll keep them out here where visitors can see them.”

Candace looked doubtful, but shrugged. “If we had any visitors that would make sense.”

“We’ve had a few visitors recently.”

“A sheriff and our neighbor.” Candace paused. “You know, maybe that’s who sent the flowers.”

“Who?” Honor headed toward her bedroom, anxious to put the conversation behind her, but not wanting to cut Candace off. Despite her harsh upbringing, Candace was a sensitive soul. Sometimes too sensitive.