Christi took a sip of the latte. Sampled the cake. “Mmm. These are both delicious.”

“Wait until you try the shortbread. It’s infused with lavender. So what brings you to our fair town?”

Not a subject she wanted to discuss.

“I, uh, had some personal business to take care of.” She swept a hand over the shop and redirected the conversation. “I like the idea of featuring local goods.”

Beth took the hint. “I do too. I had an online business for years before I opened this place last fall. The bulk of my orders still come through my website.”

Understandable. Hope Harbor seemed too small to support an establishment like this.

“What prompted you to open a physical shop?” Christi picked up half the shortbread cookie and sipped her latte.

The woman’s cup hesitated halfway to her lips for a split second, and a flicker of . . . anguish? . . . darkened her irises.

It appeared more than one person in this shop had dark secrets in her past.

Beth set the cup back down. “Hope Harbor is a popular seasonal tourist destination. I decided there was more business to be had. Having a physical space also let me expand my inventory to items that don’t lend themselves to shipping, like those dried flowers.” She waved a hand toward the display, then picked up the other half of the cookie heart and ran a finger over the broken edge. “I also had more time on my hands than was healthy, and I thought the challenge of opening and running a shop would keep me busy.” She offered a smile that seemed forced. “It did—and how.”

“Do you have other employees?”

“No—and a one-person show has its downsides. That’s why I’m hiring a part-time helper. Full-time, actually, for two or three weeks while I have a knee replaced. If I don’t line someone up soon, I’ll have to shut down until I’m back on my feet. That will put a major dent in the balance sheet.” She grimaced.

“I hear you.” Christi bit into the shortbread. It melted in her mouth, leaving behind a subtle hint of lemon, lavender, and . . . mint? Man, the people in this town knew how to bake—and cook.

“I haven’t given up hope that someone will come along. Do you work full-time?”

“I did, but I’m between jobs.” Enough on that subject. “I wish I could help you out until you find someone more permanent, but I’m planning to head back to Dallas today.”

“That would be a daunting commute for this job.” A brief twinkle sparked in Beth’s eyes. “What’s your field?”

“My degree is in art history.” She finished her cookie and peeked at the two remaining pieces of cranberry nut cake.