“Oh Alice, sweetheart, I heard Nash Harris is back in town.” Mrs. Wilcox flashes me a knowing look. “Marrying a woman from New York City.”

I can’t help but bite back my laughter. The way she refers to Anna as the woman from New York suggests she’s some scandalous harlot. I press my lips together, nodding as I carefully wrap up the turnover.

“Such a shame,” she muses, offering a sad smile. “I always thought it would be the two of you walking down the aisle of the church.”

I shake my head, placing the pastry into a paper bag and handing it over the counter. “Nope. Not me,” I say with a nonchalant shrug, and, although I know I shouldn’t, I just can’t help myself. “And, in fact, they’re not getting married in the church, Mrs. Wilcox. They’re getting married in the chapel at Harrington Country Club.”

Poor Mrs. Wilcox. Her jaw drops and she actually turns sheet-white as she clutches a hand to her robust chest. “Harrington Country Club?” She gasps. I nod, trying so hard not to smile. “Well, I never.” She mutters something else under her breath, shaking her head to herself. “You just wait until I see that boy’s grandmother at our weekly book club, tomorrow morning.” And, with that, she turns and waddles out of the store with her apple turnover nursed carefully in her arms, murmuring something under her breath I can’t hear.

“Have a good day, Mrs. Wilcox,” I sing cheerfully as she exits, chuckling to myself.

I glance at the clock just as Sarah, my weekend helper, comes bounding in through the door, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the midday sun. I breathe a sigh of relief, untying my apron, and she follows me through to the kitchen, jabbering on about her excuse for being late. Something about a fight with her boyfriend, Tyler, this morning. I don’t allow her to see my eye-roll, but I really don’t care.

“I have to go,” I say, handing Sarah the keys to the bakery, which she proudly tucks into the pocket of her pinafore. “I have a barbecue.”

“Oh yeah, I heard the news,” Sarah says, leaning on the island counter and watching as I pack my things into my purse.

“What news?” I flash her a look.

“You and Harley Shaw. Official.” She waggles her eyebrows up and down. “I saw it on Facebook last night.”

“Facebook!” I shriek, gawping at her, but she just nods, as if news of my relationship status circulating social media isn’t a big deal. “Wow. News sure does travel fast in this town …” I sigh, rolling my eyes once more.

“It does when you nab the town’s hottest, most eligible bachelor.” She smiles a lustful smile, and I can only imagine she’s momentarily daydreaming about Harley, and I can’t help but wonder if her older brother, Seth, knows the way she idolizes one of his best friends.

“Don’t forget to lock up.” I place my apron onto the stainless steel counter, pulling Sarah from her reverie. “And turn off the gas this time.” I offer a warning look, which she meets with a sheepish smile as I hurry out to make it to Harley’s stupid barbecue.