“I’m not sure it’s courage. I wanted her to be happy, that’s all. Isn’t that what every parent wants for their child? Would part of me have liked her to stay here and move in next door? Yes. But that wasn’t how things worked out, and I learned to make the best of it. Sometimes that’s all you can do, isn’t it? You keep busy and build your own life.” He took a mouthful of wine and set the glass down. “But thank you for listening. You’ve been a good friend, Connie. I don’t know what I would have done without you over the past week. It makes me even more embarrassed to remember how rude I was the first time we met a few weeks ago.”

Her laugh turned into a gasp as pain jabbed her ribs. Wincing, she sat down opposite him. Who would have thought that falling off a horse could be so painful? “No need to be embarrassed. I understand. People in our position are always being encouraged to look for romance. I’m sure you’re quite the catch for a woman who is interested in catching someone. Fortunately for you, that’s not me.”

He toyed with his glass. “After Paula died, everyone kept saying to me, ‘You need to get back on the horse.’”

“We did get back on the horse,” Connie pointed out, “but we did it literally, rather than figuratively. And then fell off it, in my case.”

They’d been riding daily, and she couldn’t remember precisely when their polite greetings had turned to conversation. One day they’d exchanged a few words, and the next they’d gone for lunch in a pub garden. During their many conversations since then she’d discovered that he’d worked in construction for many years, been a widower for twelve years, that he had a thirty-year-old daughter in Australia (currently suffering from appendicitis) who was married with a five-year-old, and that he had no interest in finding anyone else.

Assuming that he was sharing that detail to ensure she didn’t harbor fantasies about a romantic future, Connie had assured him that she had no interest in giving up her lovely independent life.

Neither of them was looking for love, but they both agreed that their new friendship was something to be treasured.

She raised her water glass. “To being happily single. And to getting back up when we fall off the horse. Preferably without broken bones.” Had she broken a rib? No, she was sure it was simply bruised. Like the rest of her. Nothing that time wouldn’t heal.

Brian lifted his glass in response. “You’re an extraordinary woman, Connie.” He broke off. “Did you hear something? Footsteps?”

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, and Connie turned her head.

“Now, who can that be on a Sunday evening?”