Jeb Coyne, proprietor of Coyne's Confectionary, will have been widowed for two years tomorrow. Tending to his daily business takes his mind off the looming anniversary for a moment, as do his customers, whether cheerful or grumpy. But he's never felt so alone.
With the workday finished, Jeb is a few minutes from locking the doors. He goes out to bring in the sign board his father made and is interrupted by a tiny voice asking if he is closing.
Olivia Fletcher stands before him, a teenager with wet strands of hair across her cheek, a baby in her arms.
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