His hand rubbed up and down the woman’s arm. Laurel had seen him use that gesture of comfort and support—or felt it herself—countless times.

“Focus on your family, Carolyn, and leave all this to me. I’ll be in touch soon. I promise.”

“All right. And thank you, thank you again for everything.”

“Just remember what I told you.” As he walked his client to the door, he spotted Laurel. Surprise crossed his face briefly, before he turned his attention back to the woman he led out. He murmured something that had the client blinking at tears again before she nodded, and left.

“Well, hi,” he said to Laurel.

“I’m so in the way. Sorry. I just dropped off something for you, then a couple people came in for Dara, and I knew them, so ...”

“Zack and Cassie Reinquist.You did their wedding.”

“God, you and Parker have spreadsheets for brains. It’s scary. Anyway, I’ll clear the field so you can—”

“Come on back. I’ve got a few minutes before my next appointment. What did you bring me?”

“I’ll get it.” She walked back to pick up the bakery box.

“Sorry,” Annie murmured, tipping the phone away from her mouth. “Floodgates.”

Laurel made a “don’t worry about it” gesture, and took the box with her.

“You brought me a cake?”

“No.” She walked back to his office with him, where the sunlight streamed through tall windows, where more antiques gleamed—and the desk she knew had been his father’s, and his father’s before—held prominence.

Laurel set the box down, opened the top. “I brought you cupcakes.”

“You brought me cupcakes.” Obviously puzzled, he looked in the box at the dozen cheerfully iced cakes. “They look good.”

“They’re happy food.”

She studied his face. Just as Emma had claimed about hers, Laurel knew that face. “You look like you could use some happy.”

“Do I? Well.” He bent to give her an absent kiss. “That makes me happy. How about some coffee to go with the cupcakes?”

She hadn’t intended to stay—her own schedule was so damn tight as it was. But, oh, he really did look like he needed a little happy. “Sure. Your client looked pretty distressed,” she began as he walked over to the coffee machine on the Hepplewhite buffet. “You probably can’t talk about it.”

“In general terms. Her mother died recently after a long, difficult illness.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She was the primary caregiver, and as her mother’s condition required more—and it was important to them both that her mother die at home—she took an extended leave of absence from her job so she could care for her mother full-time.”

“It takes a lot of love and dedication to do that.”