Still, I thought it was pretty big of Dex to let Lucas stay with them because he had nowhere else to go, and it confirmed to me that West Elliot was an immature asshole, even though I’d yet to meet the man. I had seen him from afar. He was very much like his son, and it surprised me that age hadn’t dulled his handsomeness, considering how bitter he obviously was.

I’d gone out to run errands and found myself standing in the small cookie aisle in the convenience store, trying to decide if I should succumb to the temptation of the rich tea biscuits I liked to dunk into my cup of tea while I watched the store.

My belly could really do without those biscuits, and I had fitting into a wedding dress to think about sometime in the near future.

I was getting married.

It was so surreal.

“Well, the young Elliot and Viola Tait situation has taken attention away from Roane Robson, and it baffles me,” I heard a voice say in the aisle behind me and felt my heart pound at overhearing gossip pertaining to Roane.

“Oh, I know,” a second woman said, “you would think one of his closest friends would talk to the lad. Obviously, he’s let that American overcome his good sense with her talents in the bedroom. I’ve heard Americans are very loose in that respect.”

My jaw dropped.

Say what?

Glaring through the shelves of products, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited to hear if they said more. Their voices began to travel as they moved.

“Clearly she’s muddled his good sense. Never mind the ridiculous notion of marrying someone you’ve only known for three months—”

“Oh yes, we’re not the only ones who think he’s being reckless.”

“He should be settling down with a girl from good English stock. Even a Scot would be better than an American.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Scottish blood,” the other woman sniffed. “I’m Scottish on my mother’s side.”

“Oh, I meant no offense, Harriet.” A gray-haired lady came into view at the top of my aisle. In a light sweater and a long skirt, her back hunched slightly, the woman was named Lilith something or other. I knew who her companion was before the blue-haired lady in the pantsuit appeared at her side. Lilith and Harriet were two of the oldest villagers, but the bracing coastal life had made them hardy. If it weren’t for their severely wrinkled faces, it would be hard to tell they were in their eighties by the sturdiness of their bodies and youthful gait.

I’d admired them from afar.

Not so much now.

They turned toward my aisle and both froze in shock to see me there.

Pressing their lips together tightly, they blanched as I walked slowly toward them, eyeballing them in disapproval.