It was amazing how quickly I'd gotten used to seeing Fynn working at the park. Now I expected it. He had become a part of the town. And no one who had lived in Butterfield for the past ten years could ignore the incredible transformation of the town square. The fountain chortled all day with frothy mounds of water, and Richard and his volunteers had somehow managed to coax the grass to return from the dead.

I was right on time for work but decided a two minute stop in the park wouldn't hurt. And talking to Fynn, even if only for a few seconds, would help energize me for a day in the store. I parked my bike in its usual spot outside the market and walked across the street.

Fynn was perched near the top of a tall ladder that was leaned precariously against the outside of the pavilion. His arm muscles were flexed as he ground away on a chunk of rust.

I climbed the steps of the pavilion and peered up at him through the curls of iron. His face was framed by the those same curls as he looked down at me. "Hey, Starshine, just in time. Can you hand up a new square of sandpaper? This one is worn enough to be used as tissue."

I walked over to the box of sandpaper sitting on one of the interior benches and pulled out a new sheet. I climbed up on the bench that was directly beneath where he was working. The wooden benches in the pavilion had all been weathered into splintery skeletons. I wasn't confident it had the strength to hold me. I gripped the iron scrolls and hopped up on my tiptoes. I stretched my arm up as far as it would go, and Fynn reached down as far he could. He not only grabbed the edge of the sandpaper but he managed to grasp my hand as well. He hung on for a short second and then let me go. The ladder wiggled and he grabbed the iron dome to keep from being pitched off the top.

"Fynn, can't you find a better ladder or figure out a safer way to do that?"

He wobbled the ladder under his feet for a second, causing a gasp to catch in my throat.

"The ladder is as steady as they come, and I've been in much scarier positions. I used to work on construction sites where the buildings were four or five stories high."

I hopped down and stared up at him. "You never told me you worked construction."

He peered at me through an opening. "Didn't I? After I got tired of working on the farm, I headed toward the city to earn a living. Hated the boss though. And if I'm being fair, he hated me too."

"Now, who could ever hate you?" I teased.

A thin rust colored dust cascaded down as he sanded the iron. "Let's just say it had to do with a girl named Amy and leave it at that. Not one of my prouder moments. And it wasn't just about a girl. We just didn't see eye to eye on anything. There's nothing worse than a cranky boss."

"Which reminds me, I should get to the store before my boss gets cranky." A wet nose hit the back of my thigh. I reached down and patted Boone on the head, and he dropped a dead lizard at my feet. I scooted away from it. "I think Boone brought you a gift."

Fynn looked down into the pavilion. "Boone, I told you not to do that. Get it out of there. Now."

Boone, slightly insulted that his present was underappreciated, walked away with the dead lizard in his teeth.

I shaded my eyes and peered up at him again. "By the way, this is my last night alone. My parents come home tomorrow. I could make some dinner if you want to come by."

"Sounds good."

Fran had walked up on the other side of the pavilion and said hello before I'd even noticed her or her wide brimmed hat. "Good news, Fynn," she chirped from the outside of the pavilion. I headed down the steps to hear what she had to say.

Fynn looked down at her, and the ladder did a little sideways dance. It made my heart skip a beat, but Fynn hardly flinched.

Fynn was high enough up that Fran had to take off her hat to look up at him. "I found money in the budget for painters. Especially if you do all the prep work with sanding off the rust and repairing bent scrolls. They'll spray it with a high quality outdoor paint. And Richard talked to his structural engineer friend, and he has agreed to come look at the rocket slide for free."

"Awesome, thanks, Fran."

A loud whistle pulled everyone's attention to the market. Patty was standing out in front of the store with her hands on her hips.

"Oops, I'm in trouble. See y'all later."

"Later, Starshine."

I hurried across the street. Patty slipped back inside and rudely let the door shut before I could reach for it. I yanked it open and walked inside.

Patty looked pointedly at the clock on the wall. "Your shift started five minutes ago. I'll have to dock your pay."

I stopped my progress toward the backroom and swung around to face her. "I'll stay five minutes extra."

"That's not the point." She pretended to busy herself with the candy display on the counter, and the more she fidgeted with it, the more she had to reorganize it. "Your shift started at eight, and you weren't here."

I glanced around at the empty store. "You don't have any customers yet."

"Again, not the point." Her tone was not even close to the Patty tone I knew so well. "There are plenty of other people who would like to have your job."

I tilted my head, almost waiting to see if she was serious. Apparently she was because no smile followed. "Seriously? Plenty of people?"

"School will be out soon enough, and kids will need a summer job."

"Great. I'm so replaceable, any high school kid could just step into my job. Wow, was not expecting that confidence boost today."

Patty had reshuffled the candy display several times. Her attempt to look busy had now resulted in her having to empty the whole display and start again just so that it would be in perfect order. I could have easily mentioned the time she wasted rearranging things that didn't need rearranging but then she was the boss and I was just a placeholder for the position that could easily be filled by some flighty, phone obsessed teenager.

I walked closer to the counter. "You're right, Patty. I need to be here on time. But I think we both know this has nothing to do with the five minutes and everything to do with Fynn. I'm sorry it turned out this way, Patty, and I'm sorry if you've been hurt by it." I turned to walk away.

"I'm not hurt by it," she said curtly. "God, it's always about Ella. The center of the world, Ella Ives."

I turned back to her.

She didn't look at me but continued, almost as if she was talking to herself. "I'm so tired of having to pretend. I'm tired of the whole charade."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I watched her line up the candy bars for a few seconds, pretending I wasn't standing in front of her. I worried that her OCD had finally pushed her over the edge of a breakdown.

Then she looked up at me with a casual shrug. "Besides, Brent called me the other day, and he said he's found some things out about Fynn that will change everyone's opinion of him."

I was confused at her jarring change in topic and silently told myself not to get drawn in to her meaningless taunt. But I was always my own worst enemy. I looked back at her. "If you mean the man who has returned color back to a town that had been drained of it for too long, then I'd say Brent is going to have to have something pretty damn alarming to change opinions. Hey, maybe he's that serial killer after all."

"Guess we'll see." She was visibly upset about the task she had made for herself with the candy display. There were so many shapes and sizes of candies, making it just right, or at least just right in her mind, might very well take her the rest of the morning.

I decided to push the whole damn conversation from my mind. It seemed, just like Fynn with the construction foreman, I had fallen heavily out of favor with the boss. I wasn't sure I could stand it for long.

There was stock to inventory, and I was thankful to have a dull, mindless task to take up the morning. Only it gave me far too much time to think. And there were so many topics dashing around in my head that it was like chopped salad. The one thing that came out crystal clear was that I had fallen hard for Fynn. Hard enough that, for the first time in my life, I could actually see myself leaving Butterfield. It was crazy to think about and stupidly premature to even consider, but the possibility had definitely started to take shape in my head. The unpleasant new change in my boss would certainly make it easier.

I'd finished unpacking boxes and checking off inventory and headed out to the store front to take over at the counter. Thankfully, the daily audience at the window had finally died down.

Sarah walked in with her signature rosy pink cheeks. She always had red cheeks, whether it was cold or hot or just right outside, the fresh air just turned her cheeks naturally pink. As the door shut behind her, the cowbell clanged and a stream of outside air wafted in.

Sarah was holding something in a napkin. Whatever it was, it smelled as wonderful as the air that had drifted in behind her.

I took a deep whiff. My mouth watered as a warm feeling of nostalgia overtook me.

Patty, who had once again cooled her heels as the day passed, took a deep breath too. "What is that smell, Sarah?"

"Yeah, it smells like happiness. And chocolate." My eyes rounded, and my gaze shot to the napkin in her hand. "It's Jilly's donuts. Jilly made chocolate donuts."

Sarah held up her hand like a pedestal and unfolded the napkin. There, sitting on her palm like a priceless jewel was one of Jilly's chocolate donuts. Or at least a half of one.

"It's still warm too," Sarah bragged. She took another bite and used her pinky to wipe at a pretend tear in the corner of her eye. "Tears of joy," she sighed.

I was still an hour from my break. "How many did she make? Are there a lot? Do I sound pathetically desperate because that's how it sounds to my ears."

Sarah laughed and nearly spit out her last bite of donut. "If you go right now, you might get one of the last ones. But you'd have to run like the devil was chasing you."

I flicked a glance toward Patty, hoping she'd have enough compassion to let me go or to at least volunteer to go pick a couple donuts up. A few weeks ago she would have been waving at me to run, just like Sarah suggested, as if the devil was at my back. But she tightened her lips into a little rose shape and flipped closed the magazine she'd been reading at the counter.

"I'll be in the office for the next hour paying invoices. Watch the counter." Her shoes sounded sharply on the tile floor as she marched, filled with self-importance, to the back.

Sarah blinked at her retreating back and then at me. "Uh oh. Do I sense a chill in the air?"

"Chill is a nice word for the Arctic freeze we're experiencing."

"What happened?"

I shook my head, not wanting to get into it.

"It has to do with the town's hunky new handyman, doesn't it?"

I circled behind the counter and shrugged my answer. I looked through the window and saw that there was no line in front of Jilly's shop, which meant the donuts were gone. "Looks like I'll just have to keep dreaming about those chocolate donuts like I have for the last ten years. Was it as good as always?"

"Tasty as a rainbow on a spring day."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Sarah walked back to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. She carried it over to the counter.

I rang her up. "Why do you think Jilly decided to make them?"

Sarah handed me her money. "I don't know. I think she sees some of the things that used to bring this town joy coming back to life, and she decided to jump in. And I think some of it has to do with Richard's brother." She clutched the bag with the milk to her chest and batted her eyelashes. "The crazy things we do for love, right?" She paused in front of the counter, looking at me expectantly.

"If you're waiting for me to confess that I love Fynn—"

The cowbell interrupted me. Fynn walked inside wearing his heart stopping smile. "I brought you something." He held up a napkin with a donut.

I turned back to Sarah. "Then your wait is over."