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get it. I mean, he’s a teacher at the college, right? He works part-time
     at the bank? Why all the secrecy?”
    She looked down and stirred her soup. “I was afraid it might not work out.”
    I kind of understood her fear. Tasha didn’t have as big a family as I did. In fact,
     it had only been her and her mom growing up. So, Tasha was a little naive when it
     came to men. Which may be why she’d been married three times, each man more useless
     than the last. Her first husband, Al Henly, was Kip’s father. He’d run out on her
     the day Kip was diagnosed, leaving her to raise a four-year-old with special needs
     all by herself. Not that Tasha wasn’t doing a bang-up job without him, but it was
     tough when all she had was her mom to lean on. Then there was Buck Giest, who lasted
     six months before he ran off with a female trucker out at the Trucker’s Stop next
     to the turnpike exit. Last was Charlie Jones, who was currently serving time for bigamy.
     At least Charlie had been sorry enough to give her the money she needed for the down
     payment on the Welcome Inn
back when getting mortgage financing was easy.
    “I know you might be nervous, but this is a Kennedy we’re talking about. . . .”
    “Exactly.” Her eyes grew wide. “A nice guy, well educated, working two jobs, and a
     stand-up member of the community. I didn’t think it would last.” Tasha studied the
     wide, fat noodles on her spoon. Her pretty blue gaze zeroed in on me. “I didn’t want
     to get anyone’s hopes up . . . in case.”
    “In case he didn’t like Kip,” I finished.
    “Exactly.” Tasha appeared relieved.
    I guess I could understand her worry. I did tend to push when I thought something
     was good for a friend of mine. I would have been all over this, telling her what she
     should or should not do where Kip was concerned. The thought made me blush a bit.
     “But you’re telling me now because it’s working out?” I picked up my spoon and tried
     to appear casual.
    “Yes.” Tasha waved her spoon, dropping the noodles back into her soup. If it had been
     me, there would be noodles on the wall by now. Not only was she pretty, but my friend
     had excellent hand-eye coordination. “He’s been stopping by a few nights and getting
     to know Kip.” Tasha appeared to glow.
    My friend had been afraid to tell me. Boy, did I feel like an idiot.
    “Kip loves him. They’ve started this leaf collection. Craig’s a literature professor,
     but he was in 4-H in junior high. He saw Kip was picking up leaves and showed him
     how to press them. Then he brought over this big book and they’ve been identifying
     each one.” She grew quiet. “You know how Kip obsesses with things.”
    I did. It was part of Asperger’s. I patted her hand and didn’t say anything.
    Her eyes filled with tears. “Craig doesn’t seem to mind at all.”
    I handed her a napkin, and she wiped her eyes. “In fact, he said he has a nephew in
     Louisiana with autism. Then he asked me how I felt about maybe going on a real date.
     Maybe taking Kip.”
    “Oh, sweetie, what did you say?”
    “I said yes.” Tasha nodded. “I wanted you to be the first to really meet him . . .”
     She turned and looked behind her and waved. The drugstore was across the street from
     my bakery, and a man leaned against one of the brass sculptures out front. The city
     had commissioned them from the college over the last two years, in preparation for
     the tourism boom the new lake would bring.
    “Is that him?” I asked as he separated himself from the life-size brass figure of
     a cowboy. “Has he been standing there this whole time?”
    “Gosh, no, he was in the drugstore talking to his brother. I asked him to give me
     ten minutes before he came out.”
    “Oh.” I supposed that made me feel better. I didn’t want to have been stared at this
     entire time without being aware of it. The door opened, and Craig Kennedy stepped
     inside. Tasha jumped up and took