They sat companionably on Adirondack chairs on John’s front porch. “I’m in a mess,” Andrea confessed. “You know about the plans for a big hotel up above the Inn?”
“I’ve heard some,” John conceded. “And you’ve met Mr. Hayden?”
“I’ve met him. Briefly.” His tone conveyed all that needed to be conveyed; Andrea was reassured that their opinions were the same.
“John, he—he threatened me. It was blackmail, more or less. And I—well, I didn’t handle it right.”
She had intended to tell him everything, but she realized she couldn’t. There were some things a friend shouldn’t be burdened with knowing, and at the back of her mind, she realized she couldn’t risk the possibility, even if it was slight, that she would strain their friendship too far if she told him what she’d done. John waited for her
