Abigail and Clare hovered in the kitchen, peering out the doorway. At the corner table, Patricia and Al Stone sat having a late lunch.

"His mother brought his father here to meet me," she said shaking her head. “What have I gotten myself into?”

"According to your premonition, you didn't get yourself into this. It's fate. It's meant to be. Just think about it, you’re gonna save that old church.”

Clare went back to finalizing the trays for the next day.

Abigail moved to the prep table and sat on the stool. "He has a community meeting next week about the church. I'm trying to decide how to bring it up before then. I think it would be better if he just changed his mind before people started to attack him.”

“Like me?”

Abigail took the pile of newly laundered napkins and began to fold them. "Well, you were very vocal at the last meeting.”

“Yeah, that's what those meetings are for. We the people do not want the church torn down.”

"I know. I don't want to see it destroyed either. I'm just not sure this short relationship we've had justifies me telling him what to do.”

“You’re going to marry him.”

"So says that stupid premonition that I had. What if I'm wrong? What if I really don't have a sixth sense and I'm just being silly.”

Clare stopped what she was doing and fisted her hands on her hips. "You've never been wrong. You knew when grandma was sick. You knew that Mrs. Winters was sick. You saw things were going to happen to Carson, you got him out of harm's way. Even if it was just to tell him to stop by and grab a box of pastries. You know damn good and well you're going to get married, and have four kids.”

"And I hate everything about that premonition," she argued with her cousin. "I don't want to know that this is the man I'm going to marry. I want it all to be a wonderful surprise.”

"Well, maybe this is a premonition just for Mrs. Winters. You still haven't seen anything when you touched him. Or kissed him. Maybe you'll see something when you…"

Abigail shot up her hand. "Stop. Let’s not go there.”

Clare shrugged her hands in the air. "He seems like a nice enough man, minus the fact that he tears down perfectly good buildings. His parents seem good. Hell, even his best eighty-year-old friend seems good. Maybe you should go sit with them," she said as she nodded towards Carson's parents. "Take the opportunity to get to know them. Maybe you can stop the demolition of that building through them.”

Abigail shook her head as she climbed off the stool. “I’m not going to use them.”

"Oh, but you knew you were going marry Carson, and you're willing to use him?”

Abigail let out a breath of frustration. Fate could be changed. Of course it could be. There was no reason to think that Carson Stone was actually going to be her forever after. Although, just thinking about the kiss they’d shared, she wouldn't mind that forever.

She took a pitcher of water and carried it out to the Stones’ table. “Can I get you anything else?”

Patricia looked up at her lovingly, just as Abigail assumed she looked up at her son. "Abigail, please pull up a chair and sit for just a moment. I want Al to get to know you.”

She wanted to refuse. However, she set down the pitcher of water, pulled over a chair, and sat with Carson's parents.

What had Carson told them that made them want to come in today? Had he told them about going out and about kissing her? Was he a kiss-and-tell kind of guy? What better way to get to know somebody than to sit with their parents.

"Mr. Stone, what do you do for a living?" Abigail asked.

"I'm a retired architect. I did a lot of business in downtown Denver. Before this big boom of course. I think that's why Carson is interested in the development of new things. He always saw me working at my draft table, and would join me.”

That was good to know. His father must not have appreciated old things either.

Patricia put her hand over Abigail's, and suddenly Abigail's entire body began to vibrate with a pulse she never felt before.

"I'm so glad that Carson took you to see Mrs. Winters yesterday. He told me about her condition. It's dreadful. She's been like a grandmother to him. I'm sure he told you about her grandson, about him dying?”

Abigail could only nod. The buzzing in her ears was horrific.

Patricia removed her hand and picked up her sandwich. "I'm going to go see her tomorrow. Perhaps I could take her some lemon cake.”

Abigail forced a smile to her face. "I'll go get one boxed up for her. On the house. It brings me great joy to think that she would enjoy it.”

Before she could turn away, Patricia called after her. "Carson told me you share a birthday with Mrs. Winters. Isn't that amazing? I think it was fate that you came here. I’m so very happy that you did.”

Again, Abigail smiled and turned away. What had he told them? As far as his mother should be concerned so far, she was just somebody who owned his shop where Carson frequented. A dinner and a kiss, that shouldn't say forever to his mother. Was he that desperate a man?

Abigail boxed up a small loaf of lemon bread and tied a beautiful pink ribbon around it. At that moment, she wished she had a rose to tuck into the ribbon.

As Mr. and Mrs. Stone rose to leave, the front door opened. Abigail walked out of the kitchen, the loaf of lemon bread in her hands, and noticed Carson walking in the door. Patricia moved to him immediately and threw her arms around him, embracing him as a giddy mother would. His father shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder.

When he noticed her, he gave her a quick glance, and then looked away. His eyes were dark—angry dark. He must've had a bad day. She certainly wasn't going to mention the Ford Street church now.

Handing Mrs. Stone the box, she said, "give Mrs. Winters my best. Tell her I'm looking forward to our birthday tea."

Carson looked at her again and gave her a nod, which she assumed meant he agreed.

A moment later his parents left the store, and she was standing awkwardly alone with Carson near the counter.

"Can I get you something to eat? Or something to drink? You’re off work early aren’t you?”

Carson ran his hand over the back of his neck and moved his head from side to side as if to work out the kinks that might have settled there. "Can I get a glass of water? You wouldn’t have any Tylenol would you?”

"Sure, are you not feeling well?”

"I'm fine. What time are you done tonight?”

"I have two more high teas. Then we’re done for the afternoon.”

He followed her to the back where he said hello to Clare. Abigail retrieved a glass of water for him, and the Tylenol.

“Thanks," he said as he swallowed back the pills. “Do you like sushi?”

"I've never had more than a California roll from the grocery store.”

"There's a great little place over on South Golden Road. I'll pick you up when you're done and take you to dinner. I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Abigail's heart began to hammer in her chest. What could he possibly want to talk about? "That sounds delightful.”

"Text me when you're ready to leave. I'll swing by." He gave Clare a wave, and Abigail a thoughtful look. He didn't hug her, and he didn't try to kiss her either. Then, he turned and walked out of the store.

Clare moved in and stood next to Abigail as they both watched him walk out to his car and drive away. “That was really weird.”

"I know. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Maybe he’s going to tell you that it won’t work.”

"Why spend money on sushi then? He could’ve told me right here.”

Clare nodded in agreement. "You're too practical. I would've just started getting mad."

What was there to get mad about? Then again, what had his eyes so dark and worrisome? She supposed she'd find out soon enough. For now, she needed to serve her guests as the next set walked in the door.