Книга - The Sheriff’s Second Chance

The Sheriff's Second Chance
Leandra Logan








Ethan was determined to walk Kelsey to her door and make one more attempt to steal that kiss he was aching for


He never had liked her mother’s front stoop, a concrete block with two steps cut into it. There was nowhere to hide up there under the porch light. Grasping Kelsey’s arm before she could take that first step, he firmly yanked her behind the closest azalea bush.

Kelsey gasped, her eyes dancing in the shadows. “What’s all this? Are we doing the old hide-and-seek thing?”

“The adult version, where nobody hides.” He cupped her chin and locked his mouth to hers for a bold, hot taste. She didn’t resist at all.

The impossible dream was beginning to unfold. It just wasn’t supposed to happen behind a bush. In the end it was the sound of his own car horn, in the care of the two teens, that brought Ethan back to his senses. “Guess this is good-night,” he said, halfheartedly.

“Yes, Ethan.” With a sweet smile she urged him out from behind the shrub. “Thanks a lot. I had so much fun.”

The car horn honked again, making him scowl. “I better go.” He backed away, pointing a finger at her. “To be continued.”


Dear Reader,

The signpost ahead reads Maple Junction, Wisconsin. You’re arriving just in time to make the trip with hometown girl Kelsey Graham. She’s been away for ten years and is very unsure what to expect, even from trusty boy-next-door Ethan Taggert. Along the path to maturity they’d played off one another in fits of pleasure, frustration and disappointment, never quite clicking to make a lasting love match. Despite the fact that they’d parted on a note of disappointment, Ethan is determined to finally make that love connection happen.

Readers often wonder what inspires my writing. This particular story originated with a brief article about a prom couple’s fatal accident along a rural road. The idea that such a euphoric event could turn so devastating deeply touched me. I quickly began to formulate a story through a series of questions. What if a passenger in the car survived? What if her small town blamed her for the crash? What if a memory loss prevented her from knowing the truth herself? Could faith, forgiveness and a little detective work finally make things better?

Kelsey soon came into being, followed by the boy who’d loved her, lost her and lived to regret it. I hope you enjoy the result.

Warm regards as always,







The Sheriff’s Second Chance

Leandra Logan






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Leandra Logan is an award-winning author with over thirty books to her credit. She lives in the historic Minnesota town of Stillwater with her husband. Her interests include boating, golfing, gardening and spending time with children and friends.




Books by Leandra Logan


HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

559—SECRET AGENT DAD

601—THE LAST BRIDESMAID

732—FATHER FIGURE

880—FAMILY: THE SECRET INGREDIENT

960—WEDDING ROULETTE

1016—FLIRTING WITH TROUBLE

1108—SUGARTOWN




Contents


Chapter One (#ucc6d85cb-df33-52ad-b582-ef78f70261f0)

Chapter Two (#ucb797330-0812-5598-9ced-c38fdb3150b3)

Chapter Three (#ue573d0b1-2136-580b-927e-c8862d5b8c8f)

Chapter Four (#ub7cb0819-941d-5b99-86f7-58c711f9b847)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


It was the end of another school year.

Kelsey Graham sat at her broad oak desk at the front of the classroom, sorting through the homemade cards and gifts from her twenty-three first graders. They were technically second graders now, which some of the cards made clear with large numeral twos carefully traced atop heads on stick bodies, and houses with small roofs and giant chimneys.

The seven-year-old mind, so full of imagination and hope, never ceased to fascinate and amaze her. Forget television. Give a kid some paper and a box of crayons….

It was easy for anyone to dream on such a beautiful day. To gaze beyond the long open windows facing the school courtyard, let the mind wander on the warm breezes scented with peonies and freshly cut grass.

Spring into summer plans! she’d quipped to her students this afternoon over homemade cookies and lemonade. Many of the youngsters had announced trips to Disney World, Cape Cod, Hawaii. No surprise in this affluent Philadelphia neighborhood.

The most important thing, she’d insisted, as they’d crowded round for a farewell hug, was to enjoy their moms and dads, brothers and sisters. To laugh and play and tell stories, just as they had in the classroom. To take a few photographs to enjoy later on…

Kelsey’s gaze landed back on the empty rows of pint-sized desks and she felt a wistful pang. Last Day Letdown. She recognized the symptoms very well, having suffered from them on this final day of each of the past five school years.

Fueled with new purpose, she gripped the edge of the desk, rolled back her chair and stood. She turned and began to dismantle the dancing alphabet display from one of the cork squares flanking the blackboard, dropping the colorful construction-paper pieces into a box on the floor. She’d need a ladder to get at the train of twelve boxcars, designating months of the year, tacked out of reach above the board.

As if by telepathy, janitor Marta Lynch appeared with a metal step ladder. Like Kelsey, she was trim and toned, of average height and weight. But Marta was a full decade older than Kelsey’s twenty-eight years, and her clipped brown hair needed a routine dye job to cover some pesky gray strands. While Kelsey favored chic outfits like today’s navy linen suit with pink nylon shell, peppy Marta wore casual clothing more suited to her job. Today’s comical red T-shirt read Don’t Wanna Work. A joke, indeed, as she never stopped.

“Hi, Kel,” Marta chirped. “I figured you’d need your annual boost.”

This was a pep talk to help Kelsey let go of yet another year’s worth of bright faces that had shaped her life. In her own cheery way, Marta tried to steer Kelsey to activities that would make the summer months fly, and fill the void until another classful of kids marched in to give Kelsey’s life fresh purpose and direction.

“Thanks, Marta,” she said through a mouthful of stick pins.

“Hey, swallow those and you’ll need an ambulance!” Marta propped the ladder against the wall to march over and pull the pins free.

There was an informality between Kelsey and all the maintenance staff that allowed this kind of scolding. She’d grown up working in her mother’s Cozy Home Café back in tiny Maple Junction, Wisconsin where there were no prima donnas among the cooks, potato peelers and dishwashers in the kitchen. Everyone pitched in where needed without a whimper.

This democratic approach had not caught fire with most of the faculty here at Hancock Grammar School. The other teachers believed in keeping a lofty distance from the maintenance workers and felt it within their right to make pretentious demands of them. While Kelsey’s friendlier approach wasn’t a bid to score more perks, it did win her prompt spill cleanup and lightbulb replacements, as well as the latest hydraulic chair every autumn.

Marta had taken the pins to an open container on the desk and was perusing Kelsey’s farewell loot.

“You can rummage,” invited Kelsey. “I already noted who gave me what.”

Marta chuckled as she picked up a shimmery pink sack of potpourri. “This is from the Walters boy. The principal has already put his in the trash.” She moved the pin box to the chalk tray near the blackboard, looking Kelsey straight in the eye. “I advise you to do the same. His granny uses some illegal substances along with the cinnamon and rosemary. Of the hallucinatory kind.”

“Marta!” Kelsey laughed. “How ridiculous.”

“Ha. Put that brew in your panty drawer and you risk being raided.”

“It smells wonderful and will be fine in a bowl on my kitchen table.” The table was just a small one that barely fit in the nook of her studio apartment, but she liked the word kitchen. She and her mother Clare both loved to cook.

Marta shrugged. “Well, at least don’t set that nickel bag of tricks on fire.”

“I think in today’s market, the bags are worth at least a dime.”

“Whatever.” Marta strolled back to the desk and sifted through the cards, still heavy and damp with paste. “The sentiments on these are always so sweet—wishes and kisses, hearts and smiles.”

“Yeah.” Kelsey sighed and tugged at the crepe paper trimming the cork’s wood frame. “So many big dreams in those little people. Unspoiled.” For now.

“So, you and the boyfriend have any hot summer plans?”

“Tanner and I are finished.”

“Really? For good?”

“You had to see it coming, Marta.”

“I knew you weren’t happy, but didn’t know for sure he would be for the chop. After all, you’ve bickered before and had the best of fun making up.”

Kelsey winced. “The chop sounds so brutal. We just said goodbye.” Despite Marta’s graphic terminology, there was no denying that she’d gotten the gist of Kelsey’s relationship with Tanner. They shared a chemistry that kept them both hungry and satisfied, breaking up and making up.

Ultimately, she had been forced to face the reality that was Tanner. A bit younger than Kelsey, he was still wangling the best deal his communications degree could get him. During this quest, he worked at Star-bucks, obsessed over basketball and video games. There were also Tanner’s parties. Much like fraternity bashes, they centered around junk food and a keg of beer. Understandable, perhaps, as Tanner had only been out of college two years.

Kelsey had foolishly decided to hurry along his maturity, offering direction and fresh goals. After all, he had so much potential. But in the heat of their worst argument ever, he’d accused her of treating him like one of her students.

Tanner had Kelsey figured and had every right to be annoyed. Of course, he was clueless why she’d suddenly changed. Kelsey had originally been attracted to his aimless approach because her own college years had been pretty grim, dealing with regrets better left back in Maple Junction.

Sadly, she’d finally discovered it was too late for a replay.

She could have loosened up a bit more, got into hiphop and learned to navigate a PlayStation. But she didn’t really want to.

“On second thought, maybe there is no better way to describe my breakup than the chop.”

Rather than amuse Marta, this remark deepened her frown. “Maybe you should’ve hung on to him through the summer, just for some fun.”

“No. I can’t bear one more burping rendition of the Green Acres theme song from a gang of magna-cumlaude grads.” Kelsey tossed the last of the colorful display into the box and joined Marta at the desk.

“How will you fill your time?” Marta asked bleakly.

“Well, there’s Toby Schuler and Debbie Kinny, they seem friendly,” said Kelsey, referring to two singles who’d joined the teaching staff that year.

“Oh, sure. Toby is a mama’s boy who’s going to spend the summer watching movies. As for Debbie, all she plans to do is haunt the thrift stores and read trashy magazines.” At Kelsey’s look of surprise, Marta shrugged. “I hear loads of stuff cleaning the faculty lounge. People act like I’m not even there and it’s a mighty handy way to get a scoop.”

“Okay, so I save them for an emergency. I also have my girlfriends from college.”

“Every year, more of those Bryn Mawr College pals are getting married and moving to the suburbs.”

“They’re not exactly dead yet,” Kelsey grumbled.

“Death and marriage are similar transitions in the eye of a single person, right? I mean, when it comes down to availability.”

With a huff, Kelsey set her briefcase atop the clutter, released the twin clasps and opened the lid. “Make yourself useful and help me stack the cards in here.”

Marta admired a card cut into a crooked half moon before putting it in the case. “You know what I mean. When you’re single there’s always a hassle in getting together with married girlfriends. The hubby’s brother is coming to dinner, or the baby has a diaper rash, or the older kid has a tuba lesson.”

Kelsey eyed her wryly. “Those some of your excuses to friends?”

“I only wish my boys had played an instrument. But as you know, they only love hockey. As it turns out, most of my friends are the mothers of other players. I guess it’s because we spend so much time together in the bleachers. You’re welcome to hang out with me—” she paused “—in a pinch.”

“I don’t think I’d fit in without my own hockey player.” Kelsey left the greeting cards to Marta and retrieved an empty baked bean box from the floor to pack away the gifts. “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”

Marta picked up a bottle of cheap cologne, popped the cap and took a whiff. “Phew! Lily of the valley. All the rage over at the nursing home.”

Kelsey snatched it away and set it gently in the box. “Do the cards.” She’d collected a pretty wooden bird-house she could put on her condo’s small balcony, a box of chocolates for her nightstand and a collection of colored ink pens she’d use to write letters to her mother. Clare wasn’t into e-mails or anything to do with computers for that matter. She wasn’t open to change, being entirely focused on the café. Just as Kelsey was with teaching.

Among the wealth of gifts, there were a number of mugs proclaiming her World’s Best Teacher. Even with a cupboard full of them, she still enjoyed getting more, as each one was reinforcement of her life’s narrow mission.

Moving the briefcase to the opposite side of the desk, Marta tipped it just enough to send the contents sliding and expose some of the personal papers Kelsey routinely dealt with during her free time.

Marta spouted, “No harm done,” before righting the case again but suddenly spotted a neon-orange sheet of paper. “Hey, what’s this?”

“Nothing.” Kelsey tried to grab it, but Marta was too quick for her. With a deft move likely learned from a hockey son, she ducked and spun on worn Nike running shoes. Caught on spike-heeled pumps, Kelsey was no match.

“Reunion,” Marta said, skimming the sheet with interest. “Class of ninety-seven. This is about your tenth high-school reunion in Maple Junction!”

“Yes, but—”

“Empty months ahead and you never said a word about this opportunity.”

Kelsey flapped her hands. “Stop! I’m not interested.”

Marta ignored her. “Two weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time to get some new outfits, a haircut.”

“Dammit, Marta, I am not going,” Kelsey insisted. “I’ve closed the door on that part of my life.”

“But you’ve got some nice childhood memories.”

She folded her arms defensively. “I know.”

“It’ll be a good change for you, especially after dumping Tanner.”

“I have my summer all mapped out,” Kelsey protested. “Days of reading books on the beach, jogging, whacking golf balls at the driving range. Nights downtown seeing plays, eating formal dinners served by polite waiters and drinking cocktails mixed by cocky bartenders.”

“By yourself!”

“Probably. Mostly. I’m fine with it, so let’s drop the whole issue.”

“Whatever.” Marta went over to retrieve her ladder, tipping it against the strip of cork over the blackboard where the paper train was.

“I can climb that thing,” Kelsey said.

“Not in those heels, you can’t. It would be as dangerous as putting pins in your mouth.” Taking the rungs with ease, Marta looked down on her distracted friend, now engrossed in the flyer. “Opportunity is knockin’…”

“Marta, please!”

“Just seems high time to take another look at that hometown situation.”

“Three of my good friends died, along with all their big dreams for the future. That’s more than a situation, it’s nothing short of a tragedy.”

“It’s more of a tragedy if your dreams died, too.”

Kelsey hung her head. “Well, maybe I deserve it.”

“You’ve been punishing yourself for ten years,” Marta said gently. “That seems a stiff penalty for an unintentional spinout on a dark rainy road. Besides, you aren’t absolutely sure you were even driving.”

The awful accident had indeed resulted in a head injury that robbed Kelsey of any memory of that night’s prom festivities, including details of the crash itself. However, since she was found near the driver’s door of the Jetta, and had later admitted her inexperience in handling a stick shift, the police had deduced that she’d likely been the fumbler behind the wheel.

Kelsey had been far too spunky back then to accept full responsibility for an event she couldn’t even remember, especially as it could have resulted in a manslaughter charge. Just the same, her heart remained broken, regret and remorse gnawing at the wound.

In a way, she understood the public’s initial mistrustful outcry. She had had a reputation for daring deeds—daring for Maple Junction anyway—like scaling high fences, skiing down perilous roads closed during the winter’s iciest weeks, somersaulting off the high board at the community swimming pool. And there was never any question that she would top Whittier High’s cheerleader pyramid during any given routine.

While scarcely a pattern of seriously reckless behavior, it hadn’t helped her case. For most people, it proved to be a small leap in judgment to assume she had climbed behind the wheel of her boyfriend Brad’s car and driven under those dangerous conditions.

The controversy remained unresolved to this day. Without solid proof of her guilt, the cops were stalled and she in turn could raise no tangible defense.

“If you’d seemed content here all these years, I wouldn’t be pressing the issue,” Marta broke in gently. “But it’s plain to see you’ve been settling for a fairly narrow life with just a handful of relationships. Forgive me if I’m being too pushy, but for the first time since we’ve met, you seem primed to move forward. You dumped the Boy Wonder and hung on to that flyer for a reason! Maybe you want to go home more than you realize.”

“People wanted me gone quite badly back then. In fact they shunned me. I wouldn’t know where to begin with them.”

“Simply be yourself, who’s a wonderful person, I might add. You’re as sorry as anybody about what happened,” Marta speculated. “That should count for something.”

“Brad’s folks, Lewis and Bailey Cutler, are bound to be sorrier for a start. Their life revolved around their only son.”

“They are likely still feeling the pain more than most, but I’m confident you can win them over. You did the first time around.”

An image of Brad popped into her head. His striking white-blond hair, clear blue eyes, well-proportioned features and the brilliant smile that had made him all the more handsome. He’d been smiling big the day he’d first taken Kelsey home to the Cutler estate to meet his parents. The son of the richest, most powerful man in town, determined to date the middle-class café owner’s daughter. She smiled faintly. They’d taken the trouble to get to know her because they’d respected Brad’s opinion and he’d so badly wanted them to approve of her.

“It all fell into place like a dream,” she admitted. “We got on great and they began to look forward to me being part of the family one day. It was going to be fantastic, Marta.” Her smile faded. “But it’s all gone. The magic died with Brad.”

“That old magic, yes. But the world hums with a new magic each and every day, even back in Maple Junction. It’s high time you checked it out and decided once and for all where you belong.”

“What if going back makes me feel even worse?”

“At least you’ll know you tried. In any case, it’s bound to help you move on.” Marta descended the ladder to stand at her elbow, her excitement growing. “So have you bounced the idea off your mother yet?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, you should. She for one will be thrilled to see you.”

This wasn’t necessarily true. Marta had met Clare Graham several times when she’d visited Philadelphia. But Marta didn’t understand that the cordial vacationer was vastly different from the sober café owner. Like Kelsey, Clare was burdened with a heavy guilt over the car crash. No wonder, as folks simmering with grief and rage had suddenly branded her a bad parent for raising such a reckless daughter, and initially had punished her by avoiding the café. Clare had long insisted business was fine again, and Kelsey had taken her at her word.

Just the same, Clare had never once coaxed her to come back and had never offered a mother’s absolution for what had happened. This hurt Kelsey but she struggled to be realistic. How could she expect her mother to be stronger than herself? Kelsey never broached the idea of returning either. And when they did on rare occasions speak of the accident, they still fed off each other’s guilt. Having lost Kelsey’s father, Paul, to a brain aneurism when Kelsey was nearly ten, they both fully understood the gaping hole that death left in a family.

On the other hand, they’d always been a team because of his death, keeping the café up and running together. Kelsey missed the close bond they’d once shared and wanted it back.

Later that evening, back at her dinky downtown condo on Monroe Avenue, Kelsey sat at the table in her nook with her new set of colored pens and an assortment of stationery. Also in front of her was the acceptance form from the reunion flyer, filled out and clipped along the dotted line.

With a flourish she stuffed the form, a cheery note and a check for the fifty-dollar fee into an envelope addressed to the reunion coordinator, her closest childhood friend, Sarah Yates. Done! No turning back now. She was homeward bound.

Marta’s efforts had given her the final nudge she’d needed. The past decade in Philadelphia had indeed been a disappointment, nothing like her original dreams of teaching alongside Sarah at the local elementary school, then marriage and kids. Her inability to rise above those old hometown hurts had kept her emotionally frozen.

Perhaps the only way to move forward was to first take the trip back.

On many levels the very idea was scary, preposterous. Would anyone welcome her? To make this work, she had to believe they would. That even if they couldn’t forget what had happened, they’d be willing to forgive.

Then with any luck, maybe she could finally forgive herself.

She needed to let her mother know. Although it seemed most reasonable just to call, Kelsey knew that if she detected the tiniest bit of hesitation in Clare’s tone, she’d chicken out.

Picking up a pen with cheery orange ink, she held it over some bright floral-bordered paper, rehearsing aloud what she’d write.

“Dear Mom. It’s been awhile since you’ve visited Pennsylvania. Too long, really. Seems about time I came back to Wisconsin.

“Dear Mom, Guess what? Wonderful news. I’m coming home.”

With a sigh, she set pen to paper. “Dear Mom, Just want to prepare you. I’m returning home for the reunion….”




Chapter Two


Sheriff Ethan Taggert was still at the station when the emergency call came in from the Cutler mansion, so he responded in the squad car. With siren blaring and roof bar lights flashing, he tore down Cutler Trail doing close to eighty.

The trail had been named 150 years ago, when Thomas Cutler had bought a thousand acres along what had amounted to a bumpy narrow ditch. He’d built a house, made the ditch a road and started up a newspaper. The newspaper was the start of an empire that had soon grown to include several local businesses, including the bank, and had made the family a fortune.

Thomas Cutler had wasted no time advertising far and wide that Maple Junction, Wisconsin, was a quaint dairy town worth visiting by horseless carriage. There was toboggan racing in the winter, maple-syrup tapping in the spring, strawberry picking in the summer, and the corn harvest in the autumn, and each had spawned its own festival, not to mention a county fair and several horse shows.

And all were reported in the daily paper, the Cutler Express.

All looked quiet as Ethan wheeled through the estate’s huge steel gates and up the sweeping paved drive. The windows of the sprawling stone mansion were alight, glowing on all three levels.

He desperately hoped Lewis hadn’t had another heart attack….

Lewis had become a second father to Ethan ever since, as four-year-olds, he and Lewis’s son Bradley had enjoyed a weekly wrestle under the willow trees outside church each Sunday. With parents too busy with chores and errands, young kids in the small rural community didn’t get to play together too often, so he’d started to really look forward to Sundays.

In due time, after Ethan had mastered tying his own shoes, his mother had started to drop him off at the mansion for play dates. The boys had spent their time kicking a soccer ball, digging holes in search of treasure and wading through swampland to catch toads, all fuelled by piles of sandwiches.

Ethan’s bond with the Cutlers had only strengthened with time. Ethan’s dad traveled selling insurance, so it was Lewis who’d supported the boys at school, taken them to professional sporting events and had been on hand for nearly every milestone in their lives. Lewis had loved to push envelopes and pull strings for them. Some of that push-pull still went on. While Ethan was more than confident in his role as sheriff, it was Lewis who’d helped swing his election last year.

A uniformed maid pulled open the heavy front door before Ethan could get his hand around the brass handle. It was the eldest Parker daughter, Carol, who’d dropped out of UW–Madison in midterm to rethink her future. Ethan had dated her on occasion and had found her a bit boring. Just the same, he hoped they would always be friends. She was just the friend he needed tonight. Carol had been working for the Cutlers for four months and knew enough about household politics to clue him in.

“Faster than a speeding bullet tonight, aren’t ya?” she greeted coyly.

Brushing by her, Ethan hurried into the dim cavernous foyer, glancing up the wide staircase. “Where is he, Carol? Up with the doc?”

“Nope. Right in there.” She calmly tipped her curly orange head left, toward the study.

“Did he collapse? What happened?”

Carol reached to stroke some short brown strands of hair from his forehead in a gesture he thought far too intimate. “I’m not sure.”

He gave her shoulders a mild shake, hoping to rattle her composure. “Did anybody call an ambulance?”

Slowly and with a mysterious smile that seemed to suggest she was enjoying his touch, she replied, “Nobody else was called. You’re all he wants.”

Confused, Ethan strode off through the walnut door into the spacious den he knew was Lewis Cutler’s comfort room. It was where he came to plot, relax, dream. And brood. Ethan suspected the latter was true tonight as he found Lewis seated in his favorite leather recliner, accepting a snifter of brandy from his wife, Bailey. Judging by the filmy glass and Cutler’s equally filmy eyes, it was likely a refill.

“Finally, Ethan!”

Ethan was a bit startled to discover a fully functioning Lewis. Carol’s lack of urgency was suddenly more understandable.

“What exactly is the matter here, Lew?”

Lewis leaned forward in his chair. “Have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“The news. The horrible news.”

Ethan appealed to Bailey. In her blue satin lounging pajamas, a paperback and eyeglasses clutched in one hand, she appeared to have been abruptly summoned, too. Now, unseen by Lewis, whose blood pressure could stand nothing but her utter faith and devotion, she stared off into space with strained patience.

“Leave us, Bailey,” Lewis directed, a bit more gently. “You needn’t be concerned with this.”

Bailey hated the dismissal. She frowned and opened her mouth, but then as was expected, closed it again. Holding herself like a model, she exited obediently and Ethan was struck, not for the first time, how beautiful the fiftyish platinum blonde was. Their son Brad had favored her and had been truly grateful for it.

“So what is this news, Lew?” Ethan demanded.

Lewis wheezed—courtesy of his cigar smoking—then swigged down another slug of brandy. “Kelsey Graham. Returning for your class reunion.”

“Really.” Ethan’s heart jumped wildly in his chest. He worked to keep his voice even. “Still, might be just a rumor.”

“I made a few calls. Trust me, it’s true.”

Ethan didn’t think to doubt the sharp newspaper mogul’s sources.

Lewis glared into the flames flickering in the old marble fireplace. It wasn’t a particularly cold June evening, but there was a slight chill in the air since a thundershower that afternoon. Lewis felt the cold more easily these days, deep in his bones where brandy couldn’t seep. He was a baker’s dozen years older than his wife and the gap seemed more pronounced than ever. Ethan knew Lewis regretted not diving into marriage sooner, like he had everything else, and having a bundle of kids. His late start had produced only one son. And Brad’s life had been so tragically short.

“How dare she come back?” Lewis thundered. “The girl who killed our Brad.” He rested drunken eyes on Ethan, eyes which looked moist.

Raw emotion swelled inside Ethan threatening to leave him splintered and miserable. He tamped it down with remarkable control. “Whatever happened out there on Route 6 that night, Lew—” he struggled for his voice “—was an accident.”

“She killed my precious boy.” Big tears of despair began to spill.

Ethan had the sudden urge to bolt, to escape a replay of the decade-old mess. But he was dealt in permanently at the Cutler’s table, as intimately as he had been back in his frog-catching days. With his own parents relocated to Arizona, Ethan most often turned to Lewis for financial advice, fishing company, or just to rehash a ball game.

Staying numb was his only chance. He abruptly strode across to the room’s wet bar and poured himself a short whiskey. The brandy Lewis was guzzling cost three hundred bucks a bottle and, in Ethan’s opinion, was stuff to be saved strictly for the good times.

Ethan wandered round the big room sipping his drink, taking in the sameness, the security he’d always felt here. A stuffed moose head, trophies for shooting, a mantel full of photos of Ethan and Brad growing up. Lewis loved showing off his wide range of skills, as hunter, mogul and mentor. When the boys were in high school, the room had featured pictures of Kelsey as well. For two and a half years she’d been a valued part of this family, just like Ethan.

Kelsey Graham, the love of Bradley Cutler’s young life. Who’d apparently smashed up his sporty black VW Jetta on prom night, killing not only Brad, but friends Todd Marshall and Lissa Hanson.

“I had an agreement with the mother,” Lewis muttered. “Ship Kelsey off to Bryn Mawr and I would put a stop to any town boycott of her café.”

Ethan arched a brow. “Was there a boycott in the works?”

“The way everyone loved those three dead kids? Who’d support a restaurant harboring her?”

“But sending her to Philadelphia seemed so extreme, when she was already enrolled at the University of Wisconsin like the rest of us.”

“Had she gone to school in Madison with you, she could’ve commuted back here on weekends. Like nothing ever happened. Intolerable.”

This was the first Ethan had heard of any embargo on the café. But the town had been hysterical back then. The only thing folks seemed to agree on was the basic account of the accident: Kelsey had lost control on a dark slick curve out in the countryside and had hit a tree, ejecting all four kids on impact. Brad and Lissa had died at the scene. Kelsey and Todd had been raced to Maple County Hospital for treatment, where Todd had died without regaining consciousness.

Ethan shook off a shiver as he recalled how he’d gone to the prom in the Jetta. But his date had gotten ill halfway through the evening and he’d taken her home by taxi. He’d returned to the party to discover Brad and Kelsey had left with Todd and Lissa. Understandable, as he wouldn’t have been any fun solo. While it had been a disappointment at the time, Susie Moore’s flu bug had probably saved both their lives.

“I can’t help but wonder how she found out about the reunion in the first place,” Lewis grumbled.

“She probably was sent an invitation along with the rest of us.”

“Who’d do that!”

“Does that really matter?” Ethan asked quietly.

“Yes. I’d like to know who was so careless, who didn’t even think to consult me first.”

The self-appointed town leader would expect to be shown such deference. Over the years people had helped fuel his huge ego by catering to him even as they accepted his advice and help in all sorts of civic and business matters. He’d always been extremely generous with his time and money, as long as no one challenged his autocratic streak. Lewis’s biggest weakness was his habit of holding grudges.

“Derek’s wife was her best friend….” Lewis scowled. “But she wouldn’t dare. Not after all I’ve done for Derek.”

Of course she’d dare! Ethan pressed his lips firmly to conceal a smile. Sarah Yates never deferred to her husband and had always stayed close with Kelsey. Small tidbits about Kelsey slipped out of her on occasion, confirming they were still in touch.

Ethan landed in a beige club chair near Lewis’s, regarding him with concern. “This stress can’t be good for you, Lew. You already had that one heart attack.”

The aged and fleshy chin lifted. “It was just a flutter.”

That wasn’t true at all. It had been fairly serious, and he had been hospitalized for several days while they’d run tests. “Whatever you call it, you’re not supposed to get too riled.”

This attempt at reason seemed to bounce off Lewis’s granite features, still trained on the fire. “Pity those old manslaughter charges didn’t stick. I sure wish there was a way of charging that girl now.”

The very idea made Ethan sick to his stomach. “There wasn’t enough evidence then, so it would be even harder today.”

“When I think how my critically injured boy managed to crawl round the car to reach her. It surely hastened his death. If only he’d stayed put. If only I’d gotten help there in time.”

It was that murky issue of time that had Ethan running the siren tonight. Just in case another Cutler life hung on a matter of minutes. But whatever Brad had done on his own in the end, it had been his choice, not Kelsey’s.

Lewis ponderously sipped some brandy. “Wonder what she wants. Exactly…”

Seemed obvious to Ethan. “To see her mother, I should think.”

“Do you really believe it’s that simple?”

“Yes…” Ethan’s voice trailed off as he stared at Lewis, wondering if there was something significant behind his wizened look. But what could it be? “I seriously doubt Kelsey has an ulterior motive,” he said more strongly. “She and Clare must miss each other terribly. A family of two, unless you count Clare’s brother, Teddy.”

“Who’s never counted for much,” Lewis grunted.

“There’s not a more gentle woman in town than Clare Graham. Their separation has to be painful, all those holidays apart.”

“At least when Clare talks to Kelsey, she gets an answer. No long-distance line has yet been invented to connect me with Brad.”

Ethan lowered his head. “I know you miss him. I do, too. I’ve tried my best to be there for you—in his place.”

“Of course you have. Why the minute I sized you up years back in that cheap Sunday suit, with a crummy haircut and first-class brain, I knew you were special. You’re the spare son Bailey and I longed for and you’ve never let us down once,” he assured. “However, that has nothing to do with my ongoing issue with the Grahams.”

“But it does for two obvious reasons. In my role as sheriff, it’s my duty to serve all citizens of Maple Junction equally, including the Grahams. And as a former next-door neighbor to the family, I’m fond of Clare. I know I’m asking a big favor, but I think it would be in everyone’s best interest for you to soft pedal your reaction to Kelsey’s visit.”

“Huh. I’m entitled to my opinion!”

“But your opinions carry so much more weight than most,” Ethan reasoned. “People will follow your lead on this without giving Kelsey a fair chance.”

“Now you’re saying I’m being unfair to her?”

“We haven’t discussed this situation in quite some time and I must admit I’m a bit surprised at how strong your ill feelings still are.”

“Well, I’m entitled. Give it some deeper thought.”

“I was going to suggest the same thing to you.” Ethan rose, went to set his empty glass back on the wet bar. “Guess I’ll be going. Try and get some rest.”

Lewis watched him anxiously. “How can I sleep without knowing what the Graham girl is really up to?”

Squaring his tense shoulders, Ethan turned back to him. “Trust me, it’s nothing.”

“She must have an agenda,” he persisted. “Everybody does. Do me a favor and dig into it a little.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Find out who invited her and when exactly she’s due back. Call everyone on that reunion committee if you have to.”

Ethan realized he wanted to know those things himself. A word with Sarah Yates would be sufficient. “All right, Lew. I’ll check into it and get back to you.”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Gee, got any other whims that need immediate humoring?”

Lewis held out his empty glass to Ethan for another slug of brandy.

“SARAH! DON’T MOVE.”

“But I heard a car door slam.”

“I know. It’s Ethan.”

“So what?”

“Whisper, Sarah. Whisper.”

“So what?” she repeated under her breath.

Sarah watched her husband, Derek, ease into their bedroom and flatten his body against the closed door. He looked ridiculous. Sarah was curled up in a rocker near the crib. Watching the infant sleep by the light of the moon was Sarah’s favorite new pastime.

Derek wiped his forehead. “Whew! I closed the windows just in time.”

“In time for what?”

“To muffle Amy Joy’s cry. If she cries.”

“Oh, she’s gonna cry, the way he’s started to lean on that doorbell.”

Right on cue, Amy Joy twisted in her crib and let out a squeaky wail.

Derek abandoned his post at the door, snatched the baby off the little mattress and popped her into Sarah’s arms. “Feed her, honey.”

“She isn’t hungry, just mad that she has a crazy dad.”

“She can’t suspect that at two months old.”

“She already knows it at only seven weeks.”

“This isn’t funny. Please quiet her, Sare!”

With a gentle Madonna smile, Sarah tossed a hank of gold hair over her shoulder, opened her shirt and bra, and settled the baby in a suckling position at her breast. “Why are we acting like secret agents, and stupid ones at that?”

Derek’s eyes darted nervously in the shadows. “Because Ethan’s gotta be here about Kelsey.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“Oh no? The news about her coming home got out today. And since Amy Joy arrived, nobody generally bugs us this late anymore.”

“Is that all you have to go on?”

“My instincts tell me I’m right.”

Sarah wasn’t about to argue with his instincts. Born on the wrong side of the tracks to an abusive father and an overworked mother, Derek had been on the loose early, often one step ahead of the law due to the homemade rattletrap motorcycle he’d ridden without a license. For all intents and purposes, Derek was now a new man. Except for that lingering sense of smell that never failed to pick up trouble.

Derek’s features hardened. “He’s just gotta be here on behalf of a very hot Lewis, to get hard answers for the old coot.”

“About who to blame for Kelsey’s return?” she surmised.

“Bingo. He’s stopped ringing the bell….” He opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. Then shut himself back in again with a soft oath. “He’s still out there. Waiting.”

“Ethan is too obliging to that old tyrant,” Sarah complained.

“Sure he is. But when it comes down to it, we can’t afford to anger Lewis either. He holds the title to my garage and has funneled so many regular customers my way.” Derek raked a hand through his shaggy black hair. “I can’t wait to own that place free and clear.”

It would be awhile yet, Sarah knew, even with her teaching kindergarten. “Maybe we should’ve waited to start a family.”

“No, honey, no. We waited long enough. Too long.”

A faint rap now replaced the ringing bell. She sighed, hoisting the baby onto her shoulder to pat out a burp. “I’m not sure we’re gaining anything by hiding like this.”

“We’re gaining time. Time for Lewis to settle down. Time for us to figure a logical reason for luring Kelsey back.” Derek dropped to one knee beside the rocker. Despite his miffed tone, there was no mistaking the adoring look he bestowed on his girls.

“I suppose I may have acted rashly, sending Kelsey that flyer without even telling you.”

He widened his eyes. “May have?”

“We do discuss important things first as a rule. But I can’t—won’t try to excuse this away with logic. I simply love her. She’s the best friend I ever had—ever could have. Too much time has already been wasted while we miss out on all the dreams we had together as children. If only I could go back and change the day she left on that Greyhound.”

“And do what?” Derek asked gently.

She rubbed her husband’s stubbled cheek, inhaling the smell of motor oil that always clung to him before a shower. There was no answer, of course. Any healing course of action had been up to the adults. Instead they’d chosen to railroad an eighteen-year-old girl.

“All that matters now is that I want her back. I need her back.”

“It’s only a class reunion, hon.”

“Maybe.”

“Sarah…” Derek sounded almost afraid then.

“She might stay. With some encouragement.”

He touched his baby’s downy head. “Please don’t expect too much. People change.”

“Funny, I was thinking how some things never change. How people hold grudges, never give second chances.”

“Sums up our man Cutler, all right. But please, don’t rile him too much.”

“He is being unreasonable.”

“He did lose his kid, Sarah.” He squeezed their baby’s tiny foot. “Something we’ve come to understand so much better in the past seven weeks.”

“Ah, there goes Ethan,” Sarah said suddenly, gazing out the side window just as the taillights of the squad car winked red on the street.

Derek took the sleeping baby and set her back in the crib. Then he put loving hands on his wife. “Come to bed with me.”

Her mouth curved. “You know Doc says we should wait another week before we have sex, because of all my stitches.”

He lifted her in his arms anyway, his voice growing husky. “I just want to hold you for a while. In the moonlight…”

Sarah understood. Sometimes, the town’s insecure ex-bad boy needed a reminder that she was totally his.

Spooned into him on the broad mattress, she was not surprised when his soft snores told her he’d drifted off. He’d been working extra hours at the garage lately with his lone employee, Richard, in an effort to be the big breadwinner, to give her the stay-at-home-mom option next autumn. It was silly, really. She had no qualms about leaving Amy Joy with her mother, Isabel, for a few hours each day while she went to work. Derek’s problem was that he’d watched his own mother drive herself into a frazzle in order to make ends meet. Their situation was nothing like that. She loved her job. It was the perfect part-time career, half days with summers off.

The conflict of interest with Lewis Cutler over Kelsey, however, was a far more troubling issue. It was bound to affect Ethan and Derek, who both enjoyed being close to the powerful man, but who also had connections to Kelsey.

It had all started for Ethan much earlier, invited through the Cutler front door as a toddler by Brad. Such an arrangement had been unthinkable for Derek back then, as his mother, Linda, had actually been a domestic at the class-conscious mansion. Derek hadn’t made the Cutler connection until years later on the high school’s prom night. Too poor to attend the prom himself, and not yet in Sarah’s romantic sights, Derek had spent the evening roaring round the countryside on his motorcycle. He’d happened upon Brad’s smashed Jetta, surveyed the casualties and raced over to the estate to alert Lewis. Even then he’d circled to the back door of the mansion.

Because of Derek, Lewis had managed a last word with his dying son. Suddenly, the class rebel, long taunted by the likes of Brad and so many others, had been in Lewis’s good graces. Lewis had shed a new positive light on Derek along Harvester Avenue, had referred to him as a spirited and scrappy lad who, Lewis had discovered, was a whiz at fixing stuff like toasters, lamps, radios and motorbikes—especially motorbikes. He’d got Derek a room in the widow Watson’s boardinghouse, had eventually arranged for Derek to buy the town’s only auto-repair shop from a retiring Mel Trumbull, using his position as officer at the bank to float Derek a very low-interest loan.

Another Maple Junction happy ending courtesy of fairy godfather Lewis, who’d turned the lone rebel into a respected car mechanic, simultaneously repaying the boy’s good deed and filling a vital job vacancy.

Sarah had eventually taken notice of Derek’s turnaround while home from UW–Madison one weekend. She’d gotten a flat tire on the way into town one Friday night and had called Maple’s only full-service garage. He’d fixed the tire and thrown in a tune-up. She’d taken him to lunch. After that, the favors had kept on flying. He’d changed her oil. She’d helped him shop for clothes. He’d fixed her parents’ leaky sink. She’d taken him to movies with more dialogue than explosions.

When she graduated, he’d presented her with a modest engagement ring. A no-frills elopement had soon followed, as had the purchase of their house, made possible by her unspent wedding fund and a generous gift from the Cutlers.

Sarah sighed against her pillow. Everything had been going so well for so long. But only because nobody ever crossed Lewis Cutler. She wouldn’t usually be doing it herself. But this was for Kelsey. Who, just like the rest of them, had a legitimate birthright here in Maple Junction.




Chapter Three


Ethan was edgy at the sheriff’s office the next morning, determined to track down Sarah for a quick, frank talk about Kelsey. Why hadn’t she answered the door last night? It would have been easy to find her two weeks ago when school was still in session. Despite the arrival of Amy Joy, Sarah had watched over her morning kindergarten class most days, relying on her aide to handle the get-up-and-go tasks. Occasionally, the baby had even hitched a ride along in her buggy. Things were like that in the small town, with obliging parents and staff wanting to make it easy for Sarah so she’d return next year.

It turned out all Ethan had to do was hit Harvester Avenue, where he spotted willowy Sarah sitting idle on a bench in front of the corner drugstore at Fifth Street, her hand gently rocking Amy Joy’s big springy buggy.

Pretty as a picture was the new mother, dressed in a green peasant blouse and denim shorts, her wavy gold hair captured in a ribbon. With bare legs crossed, she bobbed a sandaled foot in time to “Spanish Flea,” an Herb Alpert tune played by two clarinetists from the Whittier High School band busking at the corner. Amused passersby were tossing coins into an upside-down baseball cap.

The boys froze at the sight of him, probably wondering if they needed a permit to play.

Ethan didn’t know or care. “Go ahead, knock yourselves out.”

Happy, they tooted on with gusto.

Peeking at the dozing baby under the buggy’s visor, Ethan leaned against a nearby lamppost. Sarah wasn’t going to be able to avoid him this time. Funny that she’d tried it last night. But she was one tough girl and had kicked him out of the treehouse in her father’s apple orchard more than once. Landing on apples sure did hurt! He still couldn’t bear to eat one.

“Nice day, Sarah,” he greeted genially.

“Perfect.”

“How’s our baby girl doing?”

“Swell. As you can see for yourself.”

“They grow up so fast,” he marveled. “Assert their independence so early.”

She gaped at him. “What do you mean?”

“I could’ve sworn I heard her crying alone in your house last night. Naturally, I got right off the bell. Waited though, to give her a sporting chance to respond but I guess she just couldn’t crawl the distance.”

“Don’t be silly, Ethan.”

“Of course if you had been there, you’d have answered the bell, right?”

“Well, sure. I mean, none of us were there. Must have been the radio you heard. Derek keeps it on when we go out. To fool burglars.”

Her brown eyes were bright and steady in spite of the lie. She and Kelsey could sell anything to anyone back in the day—watered-down lemonade, bruised apples, day-old pastries, all with convincing sincerity. He expected that would still hold true, at least for her.

“So why did you drop by last night, Ethan?”

It was a smart move to ask, knowing she was already trapped.

“I was following up a rumor about Kelsey coming. Is it true?”

“Yes!” She clasped her hands gleefully. “A crazy twist, huh?”

The craziest.

“C’mon, take another look at Amy Joy,” Sarah urged suddenly.

“Why?”

“This time, note the sweet little rosebud dress she’s wearing.”

He leaned back over the pram. “Very nice.”

“Sent to her by guess who?”

“Kelsey.”

“Exactly.” She closed her eyes and smiled up at the sun. “Amy Joy’s only outfit from out of town. Makes her look sharp and unique, like her aunt Kelsey.”

It was becoming impossible to talk over the music. Ethan turned to discover there were now four musicians on the corner. He decided to sit on the bench beside Sarah to make himself heard. “How long have you known about Kelsey’s homecoming?”

“I’ve kept the news under wraps a little while,” she admitted. “There seemed no hurry in giving grudge-toting people time to get worked up about it and plan a negative campaign. So how is Mr. Grudge himself taking it?”

“Lewis is a little worked up.”

“As expected.”

“Is he the reason you pretended not to be home last night, Sare?”

“Okay, yes,” she relented. “Neither Derek or I felt like dealing with the Cutler issue at that hour.”

“He’s bound to have an interest, Sarah. In his mind, Kelsey robbed him of his only child, his main reason for living.”

Sarah’s face hardened suddenly. “You know as well as I do that Kelsey didn’t hurt anyone on purpose. Ever.”

“Still, the fact remains—”

“Cutler and those other fools drove the poor girl right out of town.”

“A college education from Bryn Mawr is hardly a sentence at San Quentin.”

“Oh, but how she struggled to earn it. She had to maintain the best grades to keep scholarships and worked some very crummy jobs.”

“I guess I never realized.”

“Nobody did. Kelsey was forced to take the fall for the accident, then it was out of sight, out of mind.”

“Are you suggesting the case was poorly handled?”

“Sheriff Norton hardly solved it.”

“He couldn’t with so little to go on.”

“I was highly suspicious of his methods even then.”

“What I remember most is struggling with the loss. In the long run, it’s all been about moving on, trying to forget.”

Hoping to regain his composure, Ethan stood, dipped into his blue uniform shirt pocket for his sunglasses and put them on his lean, taut face. But Sarah wasn’t finished with him.

“Maybe it’s time we took a fresh look at the whole mess, put a stop to the anger—encourage Kelsey to move home for good! That’s exactly what I intend to do. Go stuff that in one of Lewis’s big stinky hand-rolled cigars.”

Encourage Kelsey to move home? That was what was behind this? Ethan was completely floored. The idea of having her back in town, so full of fun and wit, was one he’d given up on long ago.

Just then a big motor coach wheezed to a stop at the curb, the way it did every day round this time. Sarah signaled the band of musicians on the corner and they broke into the Whittier High anthem.

Suddenly things all fell into place in the gray matter behind the tinted lenses. Sarah wasn’t out here by chance. Kelsey was due home the same way she’d left, on a Greyhound bus. This Greyhound bus.

Ethan inhaled sharply in anticipation as the bus door folded open.

Passengers disembarked, mostly a stream of UW students home for the summer.

He sensed Sarah standing beside him now, holding her breath, too.

The sliding door remained open but no one else appeared. False alarm maybe. It did seem impossible that after all these years Kelsey Graham was going to walk off this bus or any other bus to ever set foot back in Maple Junction.

Then a figure in a tight, colorfully striped sundress registered in his brain, along with Sarah’s wild scream. It was her! Kelsey. Here! Finally home.

The same old Kelsey, but different somehow.

As Sarah rushed forward to hug her, Ethan took time to readjust his decade-old picture of the cute and curvy girl with wild bleached brown hair and whimsical green eyes. The adult Kelsey was trimmer with a neat brown cap of hair highlighted red. No longer cute but, rather, beautiful—stunning! The only disappointment lay in her eyes. While still as rich and deep as tropical seas, the whimsy was gone, replaced by the tired wisdom of one who’d seen too much, who carried a number of regrets.

Ethan could especially relate on this last count, and all because of Kelsey herself. The biggest regret of his life was that he’d let her get away.

Few in town probably realized their history, or recalled when they’d kicked their tight friendship up a notch. It had been the summer before their sophomore year and their crowd had slowly been starting to date. In Ethan’s opinion Kelsey had possessed a sparkling personality, had been the prettiest girl in class and, unlike most, had always been up for a fevered game of basketball or baseball with the guys. Being such good friends and next-door neighbors, it had seemed natural to ease into some private little dates for swims, hikes and picnics to experiment with their affections, find out what a real kiss felt like.

It was all Ethan thought he’d ever want.

Until autumn, when he became a standout on the Whittier High football field.

He and Brad were the only sophomores on the varsity team and a few clever plays soon ensured their photos were splashed on the front page of the school paper. With celebrity came perks, like acceptance into upperclassmen cliques. Senior girls started calling—girls with cell phones and cars and big ideas! Brad handled it with poise, accustomed to feeling important due to Lewis’s status around town. But Ethan went wild over the sudden attention. He eagerly accepted all invitations to picnics and parties, reveling in his new-found fame.

There was never an invitation for Kelsey, but she didn’t complain when he shot off without her. In fact, she appeared to make light of the whole thing, pointing out that they weren’t even going steady. But deep in his heart he suspected she might care a little bit, as he sometimes caught her watching him forlornly from her stoop as he hopped into a car full of kids at sundown. She didn’t crack so many jokes anymore, either, or barge into the Taggert kitchen to help his mom bake a cake or join his folks in a game of poker.

Just the same, he was too preoccupied to worry about it.

By season’s end, the football-hero novelty started to wear off. The upperclassmen decided that underneath the jersey he was just a kid after all and wouldn’t fit in at their upcoming graduation parties.

Kelsey was indeed still his pal, albeit at a greater, more formal distance. By the start of the Christmas season, Ethan was desperately missing the romance they’d shared and decided to win back her affections.

Busy with his own social life for so long, he hadn’t even noticed he had competition from his best friend, Brad. In hindsight, he realized there had been a few outward signs, like Brad treating Kelsey to a Hostess cup-cake at lunch or offering her a lift home from school in one of the Cutler cars. But at the time, Ethan’s attention was pulled in too many directions to piece it all together. He didn’t get the total picture until the week before Christmas, at Brad’s annual holiday party. Gathered round the Cutlers’giant decorated tree in the great room, small fun gifts were exchanged.

Brad whisked out several boxes for Kelsey but most of them could have been filled with sawdust for all Ethan remembered. The only gift that mattered was the silver friendship band Brad gave her.

And nobody but Ethan appeared the least bit surprised.

As Kelsey gleefully slipped the ring on her finger, it was clear he’d already lost her.

Maybe if she’d made a bigger fuss at the start of his ego trip, he’d have snapped out of it. Or more likely, he should’ve just known better in the first place.

After that, the best Ethan could hope for was a friendship with the happy couple, digging up girls for double dates, making-out with one in the back seat of one of the Cutler fleet, while Brad and Kelsey cuddled in the front.

Then eventually a cruel twist of fate had taken even that much away from him.

Since she’d left town, Ethan had worked to rediscover their magic with someone else. But, it had never happened.

Now the old temptation was back. And Ethan was left holding—of all things—the baby, a sobbing Amy Joy, whom Sarah had awakened with her squeals. He’d seen no option but to pluck her from the buggy and attempt to calm her.

He cuddled the squirmy, howling infant for what seemed an eternity—perhaps sixty seconds—before the girlfriends broke free and Sarah scooted over to take Amy Joy. Cradling the infant, she turned back to Kelsey to give her a closer look. Kelsey stroked the baby’s head, remarking on how cute the dress looked on her.

“What’s wrong, peanut?” Sarah cooed as Amy Joy continued to fuss. “Did that big guy scare you?”

“It was your screaming that scared her in the first place,” he said, inspecting some drool on his freshly pressed uniform shirt to try and settle his nerves. When he abruptly looked up, he caught Kelsey’s gaze. His heart shifted at the indecision there. She must be unsure about him, too.

It made it easier to take charge.

“Welcome home, Kel.” With that simple greeting, he tentatively held out his arms. Miraculously, she slipped into them. As she pecked his jaw, he had to fight off a shiver. Seemed rude not to kiss her back, so he pressed his mouth to her forehead, the safest convenient spot.

Not so safe after all. The brief contact was enough to pick up her familiar body scent mingled with a sweet cologne. Heat rippled clear through him.

She pulled back, appearing more relaxed as she addressed the driver unloading her two suitcases from the storage compartment underneath the bus. Sarah, meanwhile, had put the wailing baby back in the buggy and was paying off the musicians.

The girls met back at point Ethan, now transformed into a dazed uniformed statue.

“I am so sorry, Kel,” Sarah gushed. “I had planned to go over to the café with you, but Amy Joy won’t stop crying so I should take her home. Can you drop by later? Anyone can tell you where we live.”

Kelsey smiled. “I know where you live. The old Hawkins house on Earle Street. I recognized the address all along.”

“Oh! Sure.” Sarah looked sheepish as she gripped the buggy’s handle. “Come over as soon as you can.”

Watching Sarah zip off, Kelsey shifted awkwardly, aware of Ethan lingering beside her. She hadn’t expected to be one-on-one with her special ex-next-door neighbor this soon. “Well, guess I’ll go look up Mom.”

Ethan apparently took this as a signal to grasp her larger suitcase.

“What are you doing, Ethan?”

“Coming along.”

“Oh. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His warm inviting smile suggested he truly did.

The Cozy Home Café was a mere half block down Harvester near Sixth Street. The Closed sign hung in the glass door but Kelsey jiggled the knob anyway. “She knew I was coming!”

Of course she must have known. But she hadn’t mentioned it to Ethan, or likely anyone else, for the news had only hit the streets yesterday. Like Sarah, Clare probably worried about the negative fallout. She had good reason to be a little jittery. To this day there were people who wouldn’t eat in her café because of the accident. Some because they were related to the kids who’d died, and others who merely hoped to please grief-stricken Lewis in return for a favor from his bank or newspaper. Ethan didn’t believe Lewis was still pressing anyone to avoid the Cozy Home after all these years, but he wasn’t openly endorsing the place either. Ethan had once offered to intervene with him on Clare’s behalf, and she’d become very indignant, claimed she had plenty of business. He’d let the issue lie after that.

“She’ll be right back,” he said quickly, sensing Kelsey’s dismay. “Look, there’s a note saying as much taped to the glass. In the meantime, let’s try not to leave a panic-stricken first impression.” He gently guided her out of the doorway into the sunshine.

“As if I’m guilty of something, you mean?”

“Well, yes.”

“So those scowls I’m spotting aren’t squints in the sunshine. People are still upset with me over the crash.”

He hesitated. “Not everybody.”

“How many? Give me a percentage.”

“I can’t, Kel. It’s not like there are town-hall meetings on the subject. I’m only suggesting you hold your chin up and smile, like a bright successful woman out for a walk with a bright successful man.”

“You mean you?”

He tapped the badge pinned to his shirt. “Sure, me.”

“Where will we go?” she asked bleakly.

“To the sheriff’s office.”

“Great. They’ll think you’re arresting me!”

That did it for Ethan. He busted out laughing.

“So you think that’s funny?” She swatted his arm.

“Uh-oh, striking an officer. Now I do have reason to arrest you.” He gently took her elbow. “Come along quietly and take your medicine. Which at the station, amounts to a very poor cup of coffee.”

The police station was part of the municipal complex that took up most of Seventh Street. Kelsey decided the historic limestone courthouse at the corner of Harvester, with later additions running the length of Seventh, looked much the same as it had a decade ago. It was best described as patchwork architecture, last brought up to date in the seventies. The newer station and county offices, made of aluminum, steel and red brick, were utilitarian one-level extensions, with a mutual basement housing file rooms and jail cells.

Kelsey had seen the inside of a jail cell only once.

After the accident she’d been hospitalized a week while doctors had tended her injuries—cracked ribs, severe skin abrasion, a broken arm, sprained ankle and a very nasty bruise to the head.

Sheriff Roger Norton, no doubt prodded hard by Lewis Cutler, haunted the hospital like a ghoul, taking every opportunity to pop in and interrogate her. Kelsey desperately wanted to help, but she simply couldn’t remember anything. It was a kindly nurse named Nancy Farr who finally advised Clare to hire her attorney husband, Jacob, after she overheard Norton and Lewis Cutler discussing manslaughter charges.

Clare didn’t believe they were serious until Sheriff Norton had tossed Kelsey in jail within an hour of her release from hospital. Clare had just gotten her tucked in bed with a bowl of hot soup and her TV remote when the doorbell rang.

He could hold Kelsey for twenty-four hours on suspicion of murder. It was up to her to start talking, confess to what she’d done.

That was when Clare phoned Jacob Farr. He oversaw Kelsey’s official statement, which described being picked up in Brad’s Jetta, stopping by the Cutlers’ for some home movies and attending the grand march with all their friends. The prom itself was completely lost to her, as were the two hours leading up to the accident. Try as she might, she couldn’t recapture those memories. The doctors concluded that, due to her head injury, she likely never would.

Kelsey was jailed the full twenty-four. Ultimately, the sheriff had no choice but to release or charge her. Meanwhile, her tough Madison attorney had badgered him and the county prosecutor to examine the plain hard facts on paper, and ignore Lewis Cutler’s thirst for vengeance. Even if Brad had been teaching Kelsey to drive a stick shift that spring, nobody had seen her behind the wheel of the Cutlers’ Jetta that night. While Kelsey had earned some speeding tickets driving her mother’s car, she’d never been cited for recklessness. Kelsey had been no wilder than her peers, no matter what the petty rumors had said. In the end, Jacob Farr had convinced them a judge would blast their case out of court.

Now, as Ethan escorted her into the lobby of the station, she averted her gaze from the scarred black steel door that led to the cells.

“Uncomfortable?” Ethan asked gently.

Kelsey realized she was shuddering from head to toe. “I’m fine,” she lied.

“Ready for some rotten coffee? Or maybe some water?”

“No thanks.”

Ethan grinned, removed the suitcase from her grip, and set both pieces out of the way near the water cooler. “Come and sit.”

Kelsey was about to take a chair near the clerk manning the front desk when Ethan protested, “Not there!”

The plump middle-aged blonde hung up the phone and glared at him. “What’s the matter? I suddenly got rabies?”

Ethan studied her keenly. “Who’d dare bite you? Just so happens we were about to do a little reminiscing in my office.”

“You can spare a minute.” She reached over her desk for a handshake. “I’m Monica Blair.”

“This is Kelsey Graham,” Ethan introduced. “Fresh off the bus.”

Kelsey took Monica’s hand, noting a trace of recognition, but detecting nothing mean or judgmental in the woman.

“What brings you to town, Monica?”

“As it happens, Loretta Evensen is my cousin. When she lost her husband to cancer a few years ago, she invited me to come stay awhile. I did and decided to make it permanent. I’m sure you’re wondering, why’d she leave the bright exciting city of San Francisco? Aside from the smog and high rent, I was lonely. Believe it or not, there are actually more straight middle-aged guys around here to choose from.”

“She says all that strictly for effect, Kel,” Ethan mocked. “She got here, spotted Mr. Hinkie, confirmed he owns the hardware store free and clear, then went straight back to Frisco to pack up her possessions.”

Monica grew haughty. “The locals never call it Frisco.”

Kelsey followed Ethan into his glass-enclosed office with some relief. No jarring memories for her in here. Sheriff Norton had kept this space mostly to himself during his tenure. Judging by the huge jar of red and white jelly beans on the steel-gray desk, the number of chairs stashed in every corner and the cork board full of kids’ crayon pictures of him performing various duties, it appeared Ethan was a friendlier lawman.

He now gestured to a nearby chair, a metal one with a molded red plastic seat and back. After her journey by both plane and bus, it didn’t look particularly inviting. But Ethan was now riding the front edge of his desk facing the chair, looking remarkably pleased with the arrangement. Fearful that any resistance would put their renewed alliance at risk, she sat down.

Clasping her hands in her lap, Kelsey smiled, taking her first close look at him. He’d certainly matured in the best possible way, lean and rugged, strong and sexy, his narrow mustache and neatly clipped brown hair adding to his good looks.

There were times…Times when she thought about Ethan, their lengthy history, their intimate knowledge of one another. Being next-door neighbors from birth left very little room for pretense. For a short while during their fifteenth summer, she had even figured Ethan could be the guy for her.

How fortunate that they hadn’t gotten too carried away. It would have made his ultimate brush-off degrading and unbearable. Not that the rejection hadn’t been painful. Suddenly their whole friendship had been devalued, their bond of trust weakened. Kelsey had managed to move on and soon ended up with Brad. But she had never forgotten how important it was to her to save intimacy for a truly solid relationship. Even with marriage plans in the works—for the summer after their freshman studies at UW–Madison—she’d made it clear to Brad they wouldn’t be consummating their love ahead of the vows.

“A penny for your thoughts, Kel.”

At the sound of Ethan’s smooth warm baritone, she straightened on the crummy chair and gave a faint grin. Would he think her memories worth a penny? Had he even thought of her over the years? She wasn’t emotionally prepared to handle fresh rejection, so she raised an entirely different issue.

“I was thinking about your career choice. You originally intended to major in business administration, didn’t you?”

“That was my major. Then I settled back here after college not sure which direction to take. I juggled different jobs for a few years to make the rent, did some bookkeeping, sold insurance policies at Dad’s agency, and worked evenings as a deputy under Roger Norton. When Norton announced his retirement near reelection time last year, it occurred to me that I liked the law-enforcement job a lot more than the others. So I ran for sheriff and won.”

“Are you happy?”

“I find the job very satisfying. I enjoy the contact with people and they seem to respond to me well.”

A small silence followed, both of them looking around as if not sure what to say next.

“Jelly bean?” Ethan abruptly swung his jar of red and white ones under her nose.

Realizing she hadn’t had more than an English muffin and yogurt all day, she took a handful and popped some into her mouth. “These taste like the gourmet ones your mother used to buy.”

“They are.”

“So, how are your parents doing? Mom wrote me when they moved to Phoenix a few years ago.”

Ethan nodded. “They left mostly to escape the snowy Wisconsin winters. They love the desert climate, the rock-garden yards. I’m concerned about them, though. The highways there are always clogged and the drivers extremely aggressive. Nothing like this sleepy town.”

“But your dad spent years on the road selling insurance, so he’s probably comfortable with it.”

“So he says. Along with the reminder that they’re only in their fifties—like your mom.” Folding his arms across his chest he shook his head. “I’m probably overreacting but can’t seem to stop myself, and figure it’s just our turn to do the worrying. Some sort of karmic revenge.”

And worry Kelsey did about her mother. “Is Clare doing all right, Ethan? I mean, really all right?”

“What exactly are you asking me, Kel?”

“Are people kind to her?”

He hesitated slightly. “Like all of us, she has her allies.”

“Gee. I don’t remember it ever coming down to allies.”

“Nothing new, really. Kids just don’t see it.”

Of course. Adult life was all about friends and enemies.

“As far as I know, she’s getting along,” he assured kindly. “ I’m in there almost every day—”

“Really!” she rejoiced.

He looked startled then pleased. “My favorite place for morning break.”

Kelsey stared out the window, as if seeing a new ray of light on the horizon. “She claims to have her regulars, like she used to before the accident. But I’ve always been a little doubtful.”

“She appears content, that’s all I can be sure of.” He looked at the floor now, as if self-conscious. “So, are you okay? Are you happy in Philly?”

Suspecting she’d be questioned over and over by classmates at the reunion, she’d prepared a cheery stock response about her life. But sitting alone with this once-cherished friend was enough to bring the plain truth of her situation bubbling to the surface. The loneliness, the disappointments, the depressing realization that her college friends had gone on to fulfill their own dreams of marriage and children. While she…

But these were hardly confidences to share with the first guy to dump her! Her pride wouldn’t allow her to show dejection then, and still wouldn’t.

“What’s the matter?” he prodded. “The term Philly as offensive to you as Frisco is to Monica?”

“Nope. Philly’s fine all around.” She crossed her legs, mentally retrieving her original spiel. “My life is pretty hectic. I teach at a rather posh elementary school in the city and own a condo within walking distance. It’s a tiny place that would cost a fraction here in Maple, but the location is so convenient, I don’t even need a car. Great restaurants, parks and theaters are all within easy reach.”

“Sounds this side of perfect.”

She shrugged and smiled.

A surprising pinch of distress furrowed between his dark brows. But surely he’d wished her safe and well all this while. Hadn’t he?

She would never know for sure what was on his mind as he broke eye contact and reached over his desk to push a button on an old intercom. “Monica, call the café, see if Clare is there.”

As he released the button, Kelsey took him to task. “We could’ve called her ourselves.”

“Naw. Monica loves playing secretary. That was her career back in Frisco.”

The pair watched through the glass as the officious woman made the call. Hanging up the receiver she gave them a thumbs-up.

Kelsey rose to her feet. “Guess I’ll be getting back. Thanks for the beans and the chat.” When he levered himself off the edge of the desk, she added, “I’ve taken up enough of your time, but I’d like to keep my suitcases here for now though, if that’s all right.”

“No problem. In fact I’ll be making my rounds soon, so I can drop off them off at the house.”

“Great.” With a nod to Monica, she was out the door.




Chapter Four


Ethan rounded his desk to take a seat, aware that Monica was already in his doorway, wearing a bright smile and brimming with curiosity.

“So she’s the one, eh?”

With a rueful look, he pulled out his chair. “Why, oh, why did I ever confide my life story to you?”

“Because I’m one of the few ears in town who can give you impartial feedback. I’m also a good listener with a heart big as all outdoors. And your own ma is miles away.”

“Yeah, guess that’s why.”

“It must have been a shocker to confront her so abruptly. Did you have any warning she was coming in on today’s bus?”

“No,” he complained. “Sarah could have told me but she didn’t.”

“Sarah’s bound to be in a whirl, taking care of the baby, running the reunion. She probably doesn’t realize how much it would matter to you.”

“I’m not sure yet how much it does matter.” He turned his chair to stare pensively out the window. “Guess I’ve thought about Kelsey most after each time a relationship’s failed. Wondered if she could still possibly live up to my boyhood memories, if we’d be good together as adults.”

“She seems very pleasant and likable, pleased to be here.”

“I hope that sentiment lasts. She already caught some disapproving glares outside her mother’s café. Obviously they hurt, but that’s not to say she didn’t handle things like a champ. She always was strong.”

“You must be feeling pretty lucky all of sudden, having a second chance with the girl-next-door.”

“It’s far more complicated than it looks.” Ethan tipped back in his springy chair with a groan. “Having her within reach doesn’t change the fact that I totally bungled our whole relationship.”

“Yeah, when you were a clueless boy.” Monica earnestly leaned over his desk. “All teenagers fumble around when they’re first learning the ropes. They love each other, burn each other, rack up the regrets. It’s a learning process. Why, she doesn’t even know how fast you recovered your good sense, that you already wanted her back when she was starting up with Brad.”

“That’s another problem. She managed to find the perfect replacement for me in Brad. She traded up big-time, Monica. Brad was everything any girl could ever ask for, handsome, rich, smart. Even now, I can’t live up to that image—or provide that sort of lavish lifestyle.”

“Who says you have to? Kelsey’s bound to have had all sorts of boyfriends over the past decade. None of them must have satisfied if she’s still single.”

“Maybe she’s holding out for another Brad.”

“Or maybe like you, she’s merely searching for a sensitive person who makes her smile, and who she can rely on. It’s up to you to show her that now you fit the bill. For the life of me I still can’t understand why you never looked her up before.”

Ethan grew silent as he always did when Monica tossed out that particular challenge. There was a good reason why he’d never chased after Kelsey, one he hadn’t shared with anyone. Even now it pained him to think about it.

She simply had to come back on her own. And miracle of miracles, she finally had.

Just the same he realized if he wanted another chance with her, he would have to step up and face the same old risks and fears.

“Do you have any idea how long she’ll be here?” Monica asked.

“No. Sarah wants to get her back for good, though, and will be working on her.” The very idea warmed and excited him.

“Maybe that’s what Kelsey wants, too, if she can make herself at home again without too much hassle.”

“Whatever she wants, I’ve already decided I’m going to help her get it.”

Monica’s eyes widened. “Even if it puts you at odds with Lewis?”

“Yes, even then. I feel I owe it to her after everything that happened.”

“Speaking of Lewis, he’s called a few more times since this morning asking about Kelsey.”

“Of course he has.”

“What will you tell him?”

“Exactly what I know. That she seems healthy and happy.”

“Throw in kind and pretty, too.”

“Will do.” Tipping his chair forward Ethan reached for the phone.

IN SPITE OF HER RATHER uncomfortable chunky heeled sandals, Kelsey almost skipped back to the Cozy Home Café. The Welcome Home side of the sign hung against the glass now. Anxious to see what changes had been made to the old place, she burst inside.

Stepping across the threshold was like diving back in time. Kelsey recognized everything, the booths upholstered in orange vinyl, the tables and countertops of white glittery Formica, the tan flooring, and the ceiling fans whirling lazily overhead.

A long lunch counter lined with stools and punctuated by an ancient cash register dominated the rear and that was where Clare Graham stood, flipping through a pad of guest checks, tallying figures with a pencil. As always, she was dressed in the same old aqua uniform shift accented with white collar and apron.

“Mom!” Kelsey cried.

Taken off guard, Clare turned sharply on the heel of her cushioned white shoe. “Hey, honey!”

It had been eighteen months since they’d seen each other, so Kelsey anxiously assessed her. The decades-old hairstyle never changed, of course, still a dark, shoulder-length curtain topped with feathered layers above the ears. But there were new startling differences. A mass of coarse gray strands now salted the black. Severe lines etched her eyes and mouth. At least ten pounds had dropped from a trim frame that couldn’t afford it.

Clare Graham was a faded version of her former self.

Kelsey rushed across the scuffed linoleum to meet her halfway, cradling her tentatively, as if she might break.

Clare had no such fears as she squeezed her daughter close, cupped her face, soundly kissed her cheeks.

Eventually breaking free, Kelsey locked in on her mother’s emerald eyes, swiftly welling like her own.

“Come and sit down,” Clare invited. “We’ll have lemonade and a nice long chat.” As Clare went back behind the counter, Kelsey took a stool, knowing the cold drink would taste super. After all, little else had changed.

“So where were you, Mom? Just now.”

“I was at the dentist for a filling.” She shook her head as she carried full glasses over. “How I hate to close up like that midday. We’re between the maple-syrup tapping and strawberry-picking festivals, but the odd tourist is still on the prowl. Can’t afford to miss a one.”

Clare had long assured Kelsey that business was good enough. Was that in fact true?

“So, you’re good, honey?” Clare asked anxiously. Reaching over the counter, she took Kelsey’s hand and put it to her cheek. Closing her eyes, she smiled. “This is great. Me and my baby girl.”

A tightness pulled in Kelsey’s chest. Acute home-sickness had finally brought her back. Ironically, being here was making the ache all the worse. If only things could be like they used to be. If only…

They chatted until the creak of the front door and a burst of laughter interfered. Tourists. About fifteen of them, likely off the mid-sized motor coach now parked across the avenue.

Clare shifted into professional mode, dumping their lemonade glasses in the sink. Kelsey craned her neck to look into the silent kitchen.

“Don’t you have any help here today? This is crazy!”

“I told Artie that I wouldn’t be back this soon. He’ll be in later.”

“Artie Quail? Our old mailman is your cook?”

She nodded. “He got bored with retirement. As for Linda, she can be counted on ninety-nine percent of the time, but happened to call in sick today.”

“What about Uncle Teddy? Can’t he fill in?”

“He’s not cut out for business, Kel. He’s an artist.”





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