“Oh, please, it’s our pleasure. We get so tired of passing the same old gossip around. We need some fresh blood.” Diana had straight red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Clare figured she was in her mid-thirties. She knew Diana was married but didn’t have children yet and was running the business her parents started more than forty years earlier.

Bea opened several bottles of wine while the women dug into the appetizers they had contributed. With the notable exception of Aidan O’Malley, the people in Stowe had been so friendly to her, and tonight was no different. They made Clare feel right at home.

The group of ten women sat in a circle in front of the woodstove. “Okay, Clare, you’re on the hot seat tonight,” a young blonde named Naomi said. “Tell us your life story.”

“You don’t have to, Clare,” Bea said with a stern look at Naomi.

“No, that’s fine. Let’s see. I’m from Connecticut originally, but I’ve lived in Newport, Rhode Island, for almost twenty years. I’m here for a few months to help my brother with some work he’s having done on his house on Maple Street.”

“I heard you hired Aidan O’Malley,” a woman named Jessica said.

“That’s right.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Jessica said with a wistful expression.

Bea’s “I told you so” smirk from across the circle made Clare smile.

“Do you have kids?” Naomi asked.

“Three daughters who are nineteen, eighteen, and thirteen.”

“Are you married?” Naomi asked. When Bea shot her another stern look, Naomi said, “What?”

“I’m recently divorced.”

“Oh, sorry,” Naomi said. “Do we hate him?”

“Naomi!” Diana said. “That’s enough. Just because you hate your ex doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“You’d all better hate my ex,” Naomi said.

Clare laughed. “No, we don’t hate mine.”

“It’s better that way,” one of the others said.

“Yes,” Clare agreed.

“Well, let’s talk about John Adams,” Bea said, shifting the group’s focus off Clare and onto the book.

Clare sent Bea a grateful smile. She’d felt better since she arrived in Stowe, and talking about Jack wasn’t high on her to-do list just then.

Aidan O’Malley arrived with a thump and a crash at six thirty the following Tuesday morning.

Clare got up to look out the window. From the second floor, she watched him drag a table saw onto her porch. Judging from the way he stalked back to his truck, she figured he was in the usual pleasant mood.