She offered a simple prayer, and he picked up his pizza again while she peeled a piece of pepperoni off her slice.

As he started to swallow his first bite, she returned to the subject he’d promised to talk about.

“I know you came all across the country to see me, but I could stay here.”

The piece of dough lodged in his windpipe, and he grabbed his bottle of water. Took a long swallow. Tried to breathe.

Like her aunt, Hannah wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

Best plan was to be honest—while making a case for moving to Oregon with him.

“I know you could. Your aunt and I talked about it—and she does have a big condo. Much bigger than my apartment. But I like living by the beach.”

She nibbled on a piece of crust, watching him. “There’s a beach where you live?”

“Yes. I can walk to it. And it has tide pools filled with bright yellow and purple starfish—and all kinds of other creatures.” That ought to appeal to a kid. “Have you ever been to a beach?”

“No.”

“I think you’d like it—and you could meet Floyd and Gladys.”

Her forehead puckered. “Who are they?”

“My seagull friends.” Well, Charley’s, actually. Personally, he couldn’t tell one from another. He’d have ask the taco chef to introduce them to Hannah.

“I’ve never seen a seagull.”

“You’ll see plenty where I live. We have a lighthouse too.” He proceeded to sell her on the attributes of Hope Harbor while he ate two pieces of pizza and she picked the pepperoni off her slice, eating the meat but leaving the crust almost untouched.

She didn’t ask many questions—or say much, period. Her responses to his questions were confined to one or two words. Nor did she volunteer any information.

But at least she hadn’t run away and locked herself in her room.

Keeping her engaged, however, was hard work. When the front door lock clicked an hour later, he was as exhausted as if he’d run a marathon.

Erica joined them in the kitchen, maintaining her smile despite the pained glance she cast at the grease smudges and fingerprints on her once-pristine glass tabletop. “How was the pizza?”

“Excellent.” Jack wiped his mouth on a napkin and stood.

“Give me two minutes to put my purse in my room and freshen up.” She continued down the hall.

Jack sat back down as Hannah scrubbed at the table with her napkin. “I was messy.”

“No. You ate pizza. You can’t be neat with pizza.”

“Aunt Erica is.”

Yeah, she would be.

He lowered his voice. “Does she get mad if you’re messy?”

“No—but she doesn’t like messes. She tries to smile, but her mouth pinches up funny.”

“Let me scrounge up a dishcloth and see if we can get rid of the evidence.”