Harriet brushed at the errant lock of hair again. He took her hand in his when she’d finished and brought it to his lips before setting it back in her lap.

“It’s just complicated,” he said in a quiet voice.

“I know. Just be careful,” she said and pressed her lips gently to his. He tightened his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

A loud whoosh of wind rattled the bow window again, causing them to separate as tree debris pinged against the window.

“Hard to believe this isn’t the worst part of the storm yet,” Harriet said as rain fell in sheets outside.

“I’ve got go,” Aiden said with a glance at his watch. “Michelle’s supposed to be here in an hour, and I have to go by the clinic to check on a dog.”

“I have fabric to cut anyway. Mavis says we need six more charity quilts for the homeless camp, and she wants them done before the storm hits.”

She stood up and waited while Aiden stood and put on his outer jacket and a baseball cap with the Main Street Veterinary Clinic logo on the front.

“Call me?” she said and gave him one last kiss.

“If it’s not too late,” he said. “Michelle tends to drag our discussions out. She likes to bring up sentimental stories from when we were young to try to soften me up.”

“Do they work?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said. “No one knows your life like the people who’ve lived it with you. Plus, there’s a part of me that really doesn’t care if she has all the stuff. I know it’s not what my mother wanted, and I know it only encourages her when I give in, but still-it’s just stuff.”

“Okay, go.” She pushed him toward the door.

She watched out the window until his car disappeared into the rainy gloom then turned back to her cutting table. She had cut four different colors of flannel before Aiden’s arrival and stacked them in piles; her gray cat Fred was batting at the stacks, trying out a new design.