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had let some of the more important tasks of running an antique shop slip through her fingers. With that thought came another pang of guilt—Gram hadn’t been well for quite some time. Her misdiagnosed dementia could easily have been the cause of the antique shop’s demise. If only her grandmother had called her. No— she should’ve called. She should’ve been the one to look after Gram.
    After setting her things down on a table covered in an inch of dust, she surveyed the space once more. She would start with the main gallery. The office, storage room, and second floor showing gallery could wait for another day.
    As she started to clean off the furniture, Samantha tried to remember that things happened for a reason, as Dr. Wade had told her. But in this instance, she felt as though she had let the most important person in her life down. It made for a long afternoon.
    When Samantha looked at her watch some five hours later, she was pleased with the progress she’d made. She had rearranged the furniture and put it into groups based on style and dates. The glass counters were now cleaned and filled—along with the back wall of shelves—with the trinkets, dishes, and stemware that had been scattered about. She’d scrubbed the floor once, twice, three times. All in all it was a pretty decent job, considering what she’d started with.
    Samantha made a quick mental note to stop by the store to get additional, stronger cleaning products so she could make the main gallery shine as it once did. She put away the remaining items and stretched. It had been a while since she’d exerted so much energy, and she felt out of shape.
    On her way out, she walked past the mirror by the front door and dared to give herself a glance. Yuck. Her ponytail had made it through the long day, but a few strands of her frizzy, auburn hair had escaped. Her clothes hadn’t fared as well, evidenced by the dark stains on her jeans and the dirt that encrusted her red T-shirt. Oh well. It wasn’t as though she had anyone to impress. Without giving it a second thought, she opened the door and locked it behind her. She had just a few more stops to make before going to Gram’s house. Samantha hadn’t managed to make it to her grandmother’s house the night before, having been too exhausted from the trip and emotionally drained from everything else. Instead, she’d just tucked herself in next to her grandmother’s bed at the hospital.
    Down the street hung a sign for the Queen Diner. Samantha hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, and now her stomach was loudly protesting; a quick bite to eat wouldn’t throw her schedule off too much.

    Lance walked into the Queen Diner with his son, Jax, at his side. At the sound of their entrance, Candice glanced up from cleaning the counter.
    “Hey, boys.” She smiled, dropped a wet cloth into a bin, and walked around the edge of the counter. “Stopping in for a bite to eat after a hard day’s work?”
    “Aunt Candy!” Jax called out, running up to Candice and wrapping his dirty arms around her neck. “Guess what we did today!”
    She peeled away from his tight little grip and took a good look at his clothes. “Let me guess. You battled warriors in the forest and slayed the big dragon?”
    Jax’s grin made Candice laugh. “No, silly. But that sounds like fun! I was helping Dad put a new stoocoo on the Wilson’s house.”
    “Stoocoo? Sounds dangerous from the looks of your clothes.”
    “Stucco,” Lance corrected as he kissed Candice’s cheek. “And as you can see, he got very involved. ”
    “Ha, yeah. It’ll take you days to get that stuff out of his hair.”
    “What can I say? He’s going on six and likes to get his hands dirty.”
    She arched a brow at him. “Like father, like son.”
    “Aunt Candy!” Jax interrupted. “Can I stay here with you while Dad goes out to the Johnsons’? Mr. Johnson doesn’t like me much. I dropped his cat in the paint bucket.”
    Candice laughed. “Sure,