“Right, and the last thing I’d want to do is get in the middle of your friendship with him.”

They turned a corner in silence. “You won’t.”

“Or ruin my friendship with you.”

“You won’t.”

“Ben.” She stopped several yards from the break room.

He stopped, too, meeting her eyes.

“Is it going to upset you if I go on more dates with him? Because, if so, I won’t go.”

“Do you want to go on more dates with him?”

“I’m conflicted about that,” she admitted. “But I think I do.”

She saw maturity in the lines beside his eyes, lines which usually held laughter. “Sebastian is too solitary for his own good. It would mean the world to him to date someone like you, Leah.”

She metabolized that. “Okay, but what about you? I’ve known you much longer than I’ve known him. You’re important to me, and I’m trying to be sensitive to your feelings.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m fine.”

“Will you still want to hang out with me if I’m . . . seeing him?”

“I’ll still want to hang out with you. Definitely. It’s just . . .” He looked to the side, then looked back at her. “Maybe give me a little more time?”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Let a week or two or fifty pass before talking to me about your relationship with Sebastian.”

“Agreed. Anything else?”

“Blueberry muffins.”

“Blueberry muffins?”

“The next time you bake blueberry muffins with crumb topping, bring me some, and we’ll call it good.”

Ben truly was one of the best guys she knew. “Deal,” she said, relieved.

Connor walked toward them from the opposite direction. He and Ben exchanged a fist bump.

“Ben has a meeting with a parent,” Leah told him, “so it’ll just be the two of us and our swanky packed lunches today.”

“Turkey sandwich for you?” Ben asked Leah.

“Indeed. Veggie, hummus, and ham wrap for you?” she asked Connor.

“You got it. It won’t be the same without you, Ben.”

“I know. I’m the fun one of this group.” He made an amused sound and sauntered off. “I’m trusting you two to muddle through without me.”

Connor opened the break room door for Leah with a flourish. “Shall we?”

Hello, this is Arthur Duncan. I’m calling about the letter you sent to my house. You said you were looking for the lady who used to live here. Tracy?”

“Yes,” Leah answered, pausing midway through the process of unloading groceries from her shopping cart into her trunk. She cupped her free hand over the phone to hear him better. Friday evening dusk hovered over the parking lot. “I’m Leah Montgomery. Thanks so much for calling.”