When Harriet Came Home by Coleen Kwan Page A

Adam. He’s worked so hard for this ball. Everyone’s seen the effort he’s put into it, and I’m not going to let you mess things up for him.”
    Harriet winced as the hissing in Portia’s voice drilled into her head. “Believe me, I have no intention of messing up Adam’s Harvest Ball.”
    “Like I said, I don’t trust you. So you better make damn sure you don’t screw up!” Portia hung up.
    Harriet tossed her phone aside. A hard lump lodged in her throat. According to Portia, she was nothing but a vindictive woman still bent on ruining the Blackstones. Is that how other people in Wilmot saw her? Maybe. Maybe that’s what lurked at the back of Adam’s mind too. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to trust her completely, even after all these years.
    The lump in her throat thickened. Yes, even after all these years she couldn’t stop thinking about Adam, couldn’t stop worrying about his opinion. She still cared about him, but something had changed. It was different now. He was no longer the untouchable, unreal prince she could adore from a safe distance. Now he was flesh-and-blood and all too human. Now, when she cooked in his utilitarian cottage and trod the scuffed floorboards of his rundown family home, she felt the pain he suffered, and she wished…
    She had no idea what she wished for.
    She lifted his football sock and pressed it against her cheek.

Chapter Five
    Harriet glanced at her watch as the Sunday worshippers lingered outside Saint Luke’s. She waited under a tree for Adam, away from the parishioners, including Adam’s great-aunt, who had actually hissed at her. Uncomfortable, she glanced up and down the road. When she saw his truck pull up at the curb, anticipation hummed through her. She scolded herself for being so eager, but she couldn’t stop herself straightening her skirt and smoothing back her hair as his tall, long-limbed figure loped toward her. He seemed more relaxed today, more easy in her presence. He looked her straight in the eye, and his lips lifted in a lazy grin. Her knees went weak and the blood throbbed in her ears.
    Oh, boy. What an incredible smile he had. It made him look youthful and devastatingly attractive. As if he weren’t already devastatingly attractive enough.
    He unlocked the doors of the church hall. “Now you’re going to see what you’ve let yourself in for.”
    When Harriet had last lived in Wilmot, the church hall had been a crumbling mess of dust and mouse droppings, used only to store broken pews and jumble-sale collections. The hall she now entered was spruced up with a polished wooden floor and freshly painted walls.
    “There was a fire a few years ago.” Adam snapped on the lights. “They used the insurance money to redo the floor, walls and roof. It’s the perfect place—in fact the only place—in Wilmot to hold the Harvest Ball. With the band and the dance floor it’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but we should still be able to fit in a hundred and sixty people.”
    Harriet gulped. “A hundred and sixty?”
    “Yep.” Adam strode to the centre of the empty hall and looked around with satisfaction. “The tickets are all sold out. We could have sold a lot more, but there just isn’t enough space.”
    Thank God for that, Harriet thought. The biggest party she’d ever catered for was a hundred and twenty, and that had been a casual buffet lunch, not a black-tie sit-down dinner.
    “So a hundred and sixty won’t be a problem for you?”
    “Course not. Piece of cake.” Behind her back she crossed her fingers, just in case. A hundred and sixty! How would she be able to plate up that many entrées, mains and desserts?
    Adam gave her a curious look. “I’m assuming you’ll still be using your dad’s assistants from The Tuckerbox to help you?”
    “Naturally.” She gave a weak laugh. Of course, how silly of her. She’d completely forgotten about them and their names. She racked her brain…Dave and Tina, that was it. Both worked as part-time