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more awkward.
    Of course, deep down, I knew the real reason for my procrastination, and it wasn’t one of my prouder moments.
    She came out of the house just then carrying a basket of fresh scones and a jar of jelly the color of an antique garnet.
    “My grandmother makes it every year,” she said as she took a seat across from me. “It’s a family tradition. When I was little, come fall, we would drive out to the country to pick the grapes. That trip with Grandmother was always the highlight of my autumn.”
    “You say your family lives in Charleston?” I asked, accepting a scone.
    “Yes.” She held up a piece of bacon. “Okay for Angus?”
    I nodded.
    She called to him and he came at once, gobbling the crispy strip right out of her hand. I might have felt a little betrayed by his gusto, but truth be told, I was quite taken with Clementine myself. I had to wonder, though, if she might not be a little too good to be true. Inviting strangers to breakfast, working in an animal shelter. A part of me wanted to believe that she wasn’t quite as wholesome as she appeared. A part of me still wanted to hate her, but her childlike exuberance had charmed me.
    My gaze strayed again to the back porch. Now that I’d met her face-to-face, it was hard for me to imagine her in Devlin’s arms. Hard for me not to imagine it, too.
    She offered the last of the bacon to Angus, then straightened. “Where were we?”
    “You were telling me about your family.”
    “Oh, yes. My grandmother has this wonderful old house on Legare just north of Broad near the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist,” she said. “It’s been in the family for generations. A big, old, rambling place with gorgeous piazzas and gardens. I grew up in that house. My father died when I was ten and pretty much left us destitute. Grandmother, bless her, took us in.”
    She offered me the jelly. “Thank you.” I spread some on my scone and took a bite. The quick bread was warm, flaky and delicious. So she could also bake.
    “She tried to get me to move back in after…that is, when I decided to settle in Charleston.” A frown played between her brows. “I suppose it would have been the practical thing to do, but I need to prove that I can stand on my own two feet. I had some savings and I’ve always wanted to renovate one of these old places, so…”
    “Here you are.”
    She drew a breath and released it. “Yes.”
    I couldn’t help noticing a slight tremor in her hand as she lifted the cup to her lips and I glimpsed something in her eyes that made me wonder if there was more to the woman than the charming facade she presented to the world. “It’s a lovely house,” I said, feeling a momentary disquiet.
    She glanced around proudly. “I can’t wait to get started. My sister has offered to help, but I want to do as much of the work as I can by myself. Not that I’m completely self-sufficient, mind you. I did accept a job from Grandmother.”
    “What do you do?” I asked curiously.
    “I work in her bookstore and tea shop. It’s a little place on King Street called The Secret Garden. Do you know it?”
    “I was in there not too long ago,” I said in surprise. “It’s a beautiful shop. The selection of teas is mind-boggling.”
    “I wonder if that’s why you look so familiar to me,” she murmured, her gaze searching my face. “I can’t shake the notion that we’ve met before.”
    A sudden breeze gave me a slight chill as I glanced down at my plate. “I don’t think so. Although I suppose it’s possible you saw me in the shop. Or maybe we’ve passed on the street.” Or you spied me hiding in your bushes last evening.
    “That’s probably it.”
    “How long has your grandmother owned the store?”
    “Oh, forever. She came here from Romania as a young woman. Back then, she had a special room in the rear of the shop where she read tea leaves. She also had quite the reputation as a palmist. Some of her clients came from the wealthiest and