While there was no rational basis for that feeling, it stayed with him as he returned to his car—and was reinforced by the thumbs-up Charley gave him as he passed the bench where the man was enjoying his coffee a few minutes later. Almost as if the resident artist knew the seed he’d planted this morning had taken root and sprouted.

Was it possible that Charley’s hint about Beth being more receptive to his overture than he’d thought had also been prompted by the man’s uncanny sixth sense?

Perhaps. After all, she’d kept his letters, even if she hadn’t opened them. That had to be a positive sign—didn’t it?

Or was he fooling himself? Grasping at straws?

No way to know.

But as he swung onto 101 and shifted into work mode, he refused to let doubts undermine his buoyed spirits. His life would improve.

It had to.

In the meantime, he’d focus on adding a touch of joy to the life of a little boy who’d already endured too many hard knocks in his young history.

The loan papers were signed, all her belongings had arrived at Sea Glass Cottage, she was officially in charge of the masterclass festival, and Jack would be delivering Hannah to Eye of the Beholder any minute en route to work.

Whew.

Christi propped her elbow on the sales counter and scrubbed at her forehead.

Who could have guessed when she rode into town three weeks ago that her life would change so dramatically?

But all for the better—not counting the festival. Clerking and nannying she could handle. Running an event on which the merchants in town were pinning their hopes?

Big-time scary.

The bell over the door jingled, and Hannah entered, a uniformed Jack on her heels.

Christi summoned up a smile for the little girl whose life had been upended far more than her own in the past month and stood. “Hi, Hannah.”

The girl tugged on the purple sweater that had become her uniform, lips bowing. “Hi.”

“I brought a few things to keep her busy until you close for the day.” Jack crossed to the counter and held out a tote bag. “Also a snack in case she gets hungry.”

“Thanks.” She took the bag, her fingers brushing his for a mere second—but long enough to disrupt her equilibrium.

If the slight contact had any impact on the man across from her, he gave no indication of it. Instead, faint creases appeared on his forehead. “Are you certain you don’t want to take her straight to the apartment after you close and pick up dinner to have there?”

So he was going to play this all business, as he had last night at the contract signing, despite their near-kiss on Tuesday. The one she’d put a damper on.

Smart move—even if the right side of her brain didn’t agree.