Bailey sighed. “I know. I’m prying. But I can’t help wondering… oh, never mind.”
“Why don’t we talk about you, dear? When are you going to tell me what happened in Chicago to upset you so?”
Bailey winced She had come by her inquisitive nature honestly. Aunt Mae had raised her, after all. But she’d put this off for as long as she could. It was time to come clean.
She drew a deep breath. “I called Quentin a pompous, pretentious fraud who wouldn’t know quality antiques from do-it-yourself furniture kits. I told him I was tired of covering for him, tired of working six teen-hour days seven days a week, tired of kissing up to his obnoxious clients and being treated in return like a lowly peasant. I said he could either start treating me with the respect I deserve or he could fire me.”
“He fired you,” Mae said, and it wasn’t a question.
Bailey nodded. “He fired me.”
“Best thing that could have happened to you, if you ask me.”
“You’re probably right. But it still stung. I worked hard for that man. For him to just throw me away like that…”
“You deserve better, Bailey. And you’ll find it.”
Bailey stirred her coffee, though she hadn’t put any milk or sugar m it. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right. Now tell me about Larry.”
Bailey groaned. “You’re determined to hear the whole ugly tale, aren’t you?”
“How bad is it?”
Bailey looked away. “Bad.”
“Bailey…” Quick concern colored Mae’s voice.
She shook her head. “It’s all right. I took care of it. I just…well, I thought I was a better judge of character than that.”
“It’s not a flaw to want to believe the best of people, dear,” Mae said gently. “You just have to leam to be care
ful.”
Bailey wondered what her aunt would say if she knew the whole truth about Larry—or about Bran. Bailey had hardly been careful where Bran was concerned, even when she’d found him inside her cottage without her permission. Obviously, he was a troubled man, a loner who couldn’t reach out even to his own sister. There was a lost, haunted look in his eyes that tugged at her, at the same time as something about him warned her to keep her distance.
Without knowing anything about him—what he did, where he’d been, even where he was staying—Bailey had agreed to keep his presence a secret. She’d been alone with him on two occasions, and would probably be again, if he came back. She couldn’t turn him away, and not only because he was Anna’s brother. Somehow during the course of those two brief interludes with him, it had become more personal than that.
She really was an idiot.
“Bailey?” Mae sounded as though she’d spoken more than once without getting a response.
Bailey blinked. “Sorry, Aunt Mae. I was just… thinking.”
She tried to push thoughts of Bran to the back of her mind. She wouldn’t mention him yet, but she made herself a promise that she was going to be more careful from now on. Despite her abysmal record, she was determined to learn from her mistakes.
Just then, a portly, pleasant-looking man with rather squinty brown eyes stopped by the table on his way past. “Hey, there, Miz Harper How’s everything out at the inn?”
“Fine, thank you, Mr. Cooley. Have you met my niece?”
The man smiled broadly at Bailey. “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Bailey, this is R. J. Cooley, Dean’s insurance agent. Mr. Cooley, Bailey is Dean’s sister.”
“Real nice to meet you, ma’am,” Cooley said, enthusiastically pumping Bailey’s hand. “You visiting or are you moving to this area yourself?”
“Just visiting for now.”