Книга - Winter Reunion

Winter Reunion
Roxanne Rustand


When wounded marine Devlin Sloane comes back to Aspen Creek, he's surprised by his late mother's will. His new business partner for the next six months is Beth Carrigan. His ex-wife. This might prove Dev's most difficult mission yet. He's never stopped loving the sweet bookstore owner, but his military career broke them apart.Now, as Beth and Dev work together helping others get a new start on life, Dev hopes that he can break down the walls between them. And explore the possibilities of a new life and love together.









“So how come you didn’t remarry?” Dev asked.


“I just like my life as it is. I’m content, aren’t you? We both ended up with what we wanted, or we’d be leading totally different lives right now.” Beth was embarrassed and babbling, and couldn’t seem to stop.

At his continued silence, she ventured a quick glance at him. At least he wasn’t laughing…

Dev stared down at her, his eyes intent and searching her own. “I really enjoyed walking with you. Maybe another time?”

“I’d like that.”

He strolled away and Beth continued on to her store, reining in the urge to look back.

Just a walk. A casual conversation. Nothing more. Yet she could still feel the tingle in the hand he’d held, still felt that little sense of loss when he’d released it.

There was no use denying it. Their old chemistry was still there, and it intensified every time she ran into him….




ROXANNE RUSTAND


Roxanne Rustand lives in the country with her husband and a menagerie of pets, many of whom find their way into her books. She works part-time as a registered dietitian at a psychiatric facility, but otherwise you’ll find her writing at home in her jammies, surrounded by three dogs begging for treats, or out in the barn with the horses. Her favorite time of all is when her kids are home—though all three are now busy with college and jobs.

This is her twenty-fourth novel, and the first in her Aspen Creek Crossroads series for Love Inspired. Her next book will be Murder at Granite Falls for Love Inspired Suspense, April 2011. RT Book Reviews nominated her for a Career Achievement Award in 2005, and she won the magazine’s award for Best Superromance of 2006.

She loves to hear from readers! Her snail-mail address is P.O. Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52406-2550. You can also contact her at www.roxannerustand.com, at www.shoutlife.com/roxannerustand, or through her blog, where readers and writers talk about their pets, at roxannerustand.blogspot.com.




Winter Reunion


Roxanne Rustand







This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your soul.”

—Jeremiah 6:16


With love to my mother, Arline, whose strength, Swedish determination and whimsical sense of humor has always been my greatest inspiration. She always encouraged me to follow my dreams, and even when I was a little girl, she thought I should be a writer someday. So Mom, this one is for you!




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


Beth Carrigan took a last glance at her cell phone, shoved it into her pocket and heaved a sigh.

A crisp, sunny October weekend in Aspen Creek, Wisconsin, usually brought crowds of tourists from Chicago, Minneapolis, and all parts in between.

It didn’t bring unexpected calls from Washington, D.C., California, and the Henderson Law Office. Calls that now had her stomach doing crazy cartwheels.

What on earth was she going to do?

But everything is going to be fine, Lord. It’s going to be fine, right? She surveyed her bookstore, breathing in the beloved scents of books, dark-roast coffee and apricot tea as she walked to the back, where her friends were already settled in an eclectic mix of comfy upholstered chairs and rockers.

Their voices fell silent as three pairs of worried eyes looked up at her. Their concern was so palpable that she forced herself to dredge up a nonchalant smile. “How’s the coffee? Is it better this time? I bought a new fair trade brand and—”

“The question is, how are you?” Olivia Lawson, the oldest book-club member at fifty-six, had been an adjunct professor of literature at an exclusive private college in Chicago before walking away from the rat race and moving to Aspen Creek to teach at the community college.

Her eyebrows, dark in contrast to her short, prematurely silver hair, drew together in a worried frown. “You definitely look upset. Did that fool banker deny your loan application again?”

“No news.” Beth closed her eyes briefly for a quick silent prayer over the vacant building next door, where she hoped to open a gift shop and provide space for a youth center on the upper level.

Keeley North, owner of an antiques shop a few blocks away, snorted. “If it’s those vandals again, we can all march over to the sheriff’s office and make sure he takes things seriously this time.”

Despite her worries, Beth smiled. Blond, blue-eyed, with an effervescent sense of humor that belied her bulldog tenacity, Keeley was loyal to a fault. Beth could easily see her backing the sheriff into a corner until he called in the National Guard. “No vandals. It’s…well, a little more complicated than that.”

“If this is a bad time, we can all leave, dear.” Olivia frowned. “Unless, of course, there’s something we can do to help.”

For years, they’d been meeting twice a month on Saturday mornings, an hour before the store opened. The five members had been friends in good times and bad, and though Hannah was away to help with family problems in Texas, Beth knew she could count on every one of them for support and the utmost discretion. Still, she stumbled over her thoughts trying to frame her news in the best light.

“The first call was from my mother. She’s taking the scenic route from California, and will arrive here next weekend. For two whole weeks.”

“How wonderful.” The glint in her eyes betrayed Olivia’s true feelings. “You two can spend some quality time together, and catch up.”

Beth bit her lower lip. “I hope so…if things go better this time. Usually she comes wanting to revamp my whole life, but she didn’t sound quite that upbeat on the phone. I hope everything is all right.”

Sophie Alexander, the youngest of the group at twenty-nine, slowly shook her cap of short auburn hair. “Last time you were frazzled for months afterward, just trying to find everything.”

“Believe me, if Mom just spends every minute rearranging my house and the store again, I’ll be very thankful.” Beth took a deep breath. “Because that second call was from Dev. He’s coming back on Monday, and plans to be in town for a week.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “Your mother and ex-husband. In the same town.” She paused for a moment, then tilted her head and angled a speculative look at Beth. “And he called you to say he’s coming. Interesting.”

“Believe me, there’s no love lost between us now. When he filed for divorce, it was final.” Beth winced, trying to hold back the painful memories of the day he’d announced that he wanted to end their marriage…and the even more painful memories of what happened later. “I haven’t heard a word from him since, other than when he came back to town for his mother’s funeral six months ago.”

“As I remember, it wasn’t exactly a friendly meeting.” Keeley frowned. “I know it was a funeral and all, but he barely acknowledged you.”

And Beth had had trouble controlling her hurt and anger even during that brief encounter, though she’d known it was her duty to attend. “Well, he won’t be in town long this time either, before he heads right back to the Middle East…or wherever it is he’s stationed. That was the drill throughout our marriage, and I’m sure he hasn’t changed.”

Sophie shuddered. “This should be interesting.”

“I don’t even know why he bothered to let me know he’s coming.” Beth managed an offhand smile. “But it’s a blessing to know in advance. With luck, I can make sure my mom and I don’t run into him, and all will be well. I doubt he’ll be out and about much.”

A hush fell over the group. “Is—is he all right?” Keeley ventured after an awkward pause.

“He mentioned a shoulder injury—enough to land him at Walter Reed for a few weeks. He’s on medical leave right now.”

“When I provide physical therapy for a rotator cuff I tell my patients it’ll take a good six months to heal, and for some it’s almost a year. A contaminated battle wound could be much worse.” Sophie’s brow furrowed. “Will he end up with a medical discharge?”

“I asked, but he vehemently denied it.” She felt a twinge in a small, scarred part of her heart as she recalled just how dedicated Dev was to military service. Nothing had mattered more to him. Not his family, not her. “He…sounded awfully touchy when I asked.”

There’d been a time when she would’ve given anything for him to come home for good. But those romantic feelings were long gone, and now she felt only sympathy for a man whose entire adult life had been focused on covert operations that he could never discuss. If he had to leave the service, she could only imagine how difficult the adjustment would be.

Olivia shook her head. “That has to be tough.”

“Definitely, but he’ll have a lot of options once he takes possession of his inheritance. His parents bought up a lot of cheap property long before the town became such a tourist destination. They owned this whole block, and I can’t imagine what it’s all worth now.” Beth hesitated. “That third phone call a few minutes ago was from the family’s attorney.”

“The attorney called you?” Sophie’s soft green eyes filled with worry. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’m supposed to be there for the reading of Vivian’s will. It’s just a formality, though. Dev is the only heir.”

“Wow. It sure took a long time to settle things.”

“Apparently Vivian was very specific about wanting both of us present, even if it meant a long delay because of his military service.”

Just the thought of that meeting gave her jitters.

Dev had betrayed their relationship. Thrown away her love, and left her to face the worst experience of her life alone. She’d prayed hard, trying to forgive him, and maybe she had, but seeing him again would reopen those wounds.

And worse, Dev had made it plain during their divorce that he’d never live in Aspen Creek again. Would he callously decide to terminate her lease so he could sell all of his parents’ property to the highest bidder?

If he did, she’d lose her home and her livelihood. Her customers and the members of the book club were like family to her, and she’d lose them as well, if she couldn’t find another affordable location in this town.

And the bitter end of their marriage made it all a distinct possibility.

Keeley sat forward in her chair and shoved a strand of gleaming, honey-blond hair behind her ear. “Now, that’s intriguing. You need to be there for the reading of the will, but you’ve been divorced, what—a year?”

“About that.” Thirteen months and two weeks, to be exact, though she’d never admit to being so aware of the time frame.

“Maybe she left everything to you.”

“And not to their only child? No way.”

Keeley’s irreverent grin matched the sparkle in her eyes. “All the more reason to at least divide it up.”

“A will might have been drawn up during the years Dev and I were still married, but I’m sure his mother wasted no time amending it. She always thought he’d married down the social scale and way too young, even though he was twenty-one. And honestly,” Beth added with a rueful laugh, “she was probably right on both counts.”

“He was lucky to find someone like you,” Sophie said staunchly.

“My own mother wasn’t much happier, believe me.” Beth shrugged. “I’ll show up at that meeting, then slip away so Dev and the lawyer can get down to business. If I can just get past this next week, then everything should go back to normal. I hope.”



Dev wearily dropped his duffel bag at his feet, fished a key out of his pocket and opened the front door of the empty Walker building to look inside. The massive limestone walls of the two-story structure had stood solid and uncompromising for over a hundred years, home to everything from a turn-of-the century wood mill to a medical office and finally the law offices of a long-departed attorney and his partners back in the 1980s.

It was at one end of the block-long row of four large buildings his parents had owned, which all backed up to Aspen Creek. The middle two buildings had been leased as storage for the past few years, though one of them was now empty. The bookstore was the only busy commercial establishment at this end of Hawthorne Avenue.

At that thought, he sighed.

After the reading of his mother’s will, he’d need to make some hard decisions about the family home and all of this property, and he’d need to do it fast, before he shipped out to the Middle East again. But what would happen to Beth’s beloved store if he sold out? He knew she couldn’t possibly have the money to buy it.

He took a step into the empty building and surveyed the trash, old lumber and crumbling boxes that had accumulated inside over the years.

During some of his long, cold and deathly quiet nights on recon missions since his mother’s death, he’d sometimes let his mind wander back to this building, and to what he’d do with it. Since it had been vacant for a few years, would it even attract buyers?

Yet the old building seemed like a perfect location for a fine restaurant, or an upscale clothing store of some kind. Or even better, a high-adventure sporting-goods store, with kayak and canoe rentals handled at the walk-out basement level, where customers would be able to launch practically from the back door. Surely the increasing tourism in the area could draw buyers with something like that in mind.

He stifled a flash of regret at imagining the place belonging to someone else. He certainly wasn’t planning to stay in town, much less start a business, and sentiment wouldn’t pay the real estate taxes at the end of the year, or the cost of ongoing upkeep, either.

Selling it to the right buyers would even bring more traffic to this secluded street and help Beth’s bookstore in the process, which would all be for the good.

Beth.

Running a hand over the rough stone walls, he tried to force her from his thoughts, but her image stayed there—wounded, vulnerable, betrayed—with the shock and pain still in her eyes at the moment he’d demanded a divorce and then walked out of her life.

Maybe he could finally absolve some of his own guilt if he were to set a rock-bottom price and a no-interest payment contract, to ensure that she could buy her beloved building. He owed her that and more, for how badly he’d treated her.

If she was even willing to talk to him about it. He certainly had no doubts about what her reaction would be when they met face-to-face at the lawyer’s office.

Her formal, distant words and cool nod of sympathy at his mother’s funeral marked a chasm between them that had probably only deepened since then.

He’d be lucky if she even showed up. But what did he expect, after what he’d done to her? She’d been a forever kind of woman and she’d deserved so much more than someone as damaged as him.

At the oddly magnified sound of approaching footsteps, he lifted a hand to adjust his new hearing aid and froze, his senses still hyperalert as he fought a flashback to mortar fire and an explosion of rock and steel. For a split second he couldn’t draw breath in the choking dust of it all. Felt the searing pain. Saw the crumpled bodies—all that was left of his squad.

His buddies for the past ten years, and the only family he knew beyond the parents who’d estranged themselves from him so long ago.

That he’d been the one left with just wounds and a severe, temporary hearing loss filled him with renewed guilt and sorrow every single day.

He forced himself to relax and look over his shoulder, and found Nora Henderson sauntering toward him with a briefcase in one hand and a stack of manila folders held in the crook of her other arm.

She nodded toward the law office across the street. “Mondays are usually quiet, and I finished with my previous appointment a little early. If you’re ready, come on over.”

“And Beth?” The name felt soft and sweet, like the woman herself, and he found himself reining in emotions he’d thought long dead.

The attorney shifted her load and snagged a cell phone from her briefcase. “We definitely need her, too. I’ll give her a call.”

“Can I ask why she has to be there? I thought everything was settled during our divorce.”

A flicker of a smile touched the older woman’s lips as she veered off to cross the street. “I’m simply following your mother’s instructions,” she said over her shoulder. “She was always remarkably specific, you know. See you in a few minutes?”

Memories swamped him as he watched the lawyer walk away. Remarkably specific. Now that was hitting the nail square on the head for both of his parents, he thought with a hollow, silent laugh.

They’d planned every step of his education. Every decision had been theirs, without fail, no matter what he’d wanted, right down to where he would go to college for premed, the GPA he had to earn, and which medical school he would attend.

They’d brooked no arguments. Hadn’t listened. Within their social circle, they’d been lauded as model parents. But when he’d run off to join the military, it had been as much an escape as it was a career choice.

And his father had never spoken to him again.



Beth felt a prickle of uneasiness skitter down her spine when the legal secretary gave her a knowing smile and waved her back to Nora’s office.

Her uneasiness exploded into full-fledged anxiety when she arrived to find Dev already seated, his broad shoulders dwarfing one of the two leather chairs facing Nora’s desk. Clenching her jaw, she wished she could be anywhere else.

She’d expected gaunt, hospital pallor, and had prepared to offer cool, detached sympathy. She hadn’t expected this. His overlong, midnight hair was past due for a cut. The five-o’clock shadow roughening his jaw and black polo shirt stretched over heavily muscled biceps gave him a dark and dangerous air.

Which, she supposed, was warranted, given what he did for a living, though it seemed out of place in this genteel little tourist town.

He moved to rise at her appearance but she waved him down into his chair as she sat and tried for a nonchalant air. “Nora, Dev. Nice to see you both, but I’m not sure why I need to be here.”

Dev’s intent gaze swept over her, then turned back to Nora. “A formality?”

Nora lifted a folder from the stack on her desk and opened it. “More than that,” she murmured. “Vivian and Alan were wonderful people. They cared deeply about their church, their community and their son. They wanted to make changes in their world while they were alive, and wanted it to continue after their deaths.”

Clearly uncomfortable at her words, Dev hitched a shoulder. “If they left everything to the church, I’m cool with that. I’m not sticking around in this town at any rate.”

“Not all families are quite so understanding, believe me. This office can turn into a war zone at the drop of a hat.” Nora smiled at him. “But while your parents did leave some of their liquid assets as a bequest for the church, that wasn’t the major part of their estate.”

The attorney sifted through the papers in front of her and began reading a long document detailing a number of other bequests to local charities, shirttail relatives and to several close friends.

Beth shifted in her seat and shot a surreptitious look at Dev. His casual demeanor revealed little concern about the proceedings…though as the only heir, he certainly didn’t need to worry. His father had been a popular small-town doctor, and his mother had come from an old-money family out East.

Whether or not he returned to active military service, his future would be secure.

Well, good for him. The sooner he left town, the sooner the painful knot in her stomach would ease.

Dev jerked upright at the same moment Beth heard her own name. She tuned back in to the lawyer’s words.

Dev shot a glance at Beth, then turned back to the lawyer. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid not, Dev.”

Confused, Beth looked between the two of them. “What?”

“Vivian made these…adjustments to her will after her husband’s death.” Nora tapped the paper in front of her. “She said Alan might not have approved, but she had good reasons, and as a woman of sound mind, she had the right to make any changes she wished. Are you familiar with the family home, Beth?”

“Well, yes. Of course. I haven’t been there for many years. After Alan died, Vivian moved to a condo and turned their home into Sloane House—a boardinghouse.”

“Not just any boarders. She took in people who had faced troubles and needed encouragement, a safe haven or a little boost in life. She helped them get on their feet.”

“How?”

“Some just needed an affordable place to stay so they could save money toward a rent deposit or down payment on a place of their own. Some had been downsized or out of the workforce for years, so she helped them look for jobs and prepare for interviews, or find loans for reeducation. Some needed help connecting with the right kinds of county services.”

“My mother, the social worker,” Dev said drily. “That isn’t how I remember her while I was growing up.”

Nora looked at him over the rims of her glasses. “You’ve been gone many years. People change.”

“I guess, but she sure never said anything about this in her Christmas letters.”

“She did know her limitations. She didn’t have a degree in social work, just a big heart. She considered this her ministry, and it meant the world to her when members of her flock succeeded.”

“She was certainly discreet,” Beth murmured. “I just knew there were boarders living there.”

“Which is exactly what she wanted the town to know, for the privacy of those who received her help.”

“Still, I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

Nora smiled. “Vivian was worried about the future of any boarders who might be living there after she died.”

“So my mother decided we ought to be partners, in the business sense,” Dev added, giving Beth a sharp look. “She added a clause to her will requiring that we operate her boardinghouse. Together. For a minimum of six months.”

The heat of Dev’s stare scorched her skin, and Beth suddenly felt faint. “Both of us? Why?”

Nora pursed her lips. “I suspect Vivian thought Devlin would need help, but it’s probably a little more complicated than that.”

“Well, it won’t work. Period. I was due to re-up last month, but had to postpone it until my next checkup at a VA hospital.” Dev sat back in his chair, his spine rigid. “I’ve already made an appointment in Minneapolis on the fifteenth. Once I’m cleared, I’ll go active as soon as I can arrange the flights.”

“You would need to extend your leave, of course.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “That’s…that’s not possible.”

“After all your years in the service, these circumstances surrounding your mother’s estate, and the fact that you are due to re-up, I’d bet it’s very possible,” Nora mused, giving him a thoughtful look. “If you wanted to try.”

“I have no experience with the care of the elderly, at any rate.”

“These people aren’t just old folks, believe me. Beth leased her bookstore and the apartment above it from your parents. Correct?”

He gave a single terse nod.

“Do you remember Vivian saying she wanted to give you one of the buildings when you retired from active service? She always hoped you’d come back home and start some sort of business here.”

“That was years and years ago, right after I enlisted,” Dev said, his voice touched with regret. “I guess emotions were running pretty high at the time. I told her that I would never move back under any circumstances.”

“Mothers can have amazing memories where their children are concerned.” Nora canted her head as she looked between the two of them. “That block is part of the estate, as you know. But if the terms of the will aren’t met, all of the commercial property will go to Dev’s uncle, Stan Murdock, and their home will be given to a women’s shelter. Dev would only inherit his parents’ personal possessions.”

Dev drew in a sharp breath. “Stan is aware of this?”

“Definitely. He…ah…has voiced considerable interest in razing the entire block for condo development.” Nora arched an eyebrow. “He’s actually starting to make plans, as he’s quite sure you’ll decide to walk away.”

Which meant that all the beautiful old stone buildings—including her beloved bookstore and her pretty little apartment above—would fall to a wrecking ball. Her heart sinking, Beth stared at Nora, then she twisted in her chair to face Dev. “Are you going to let him do that?” she whispered.

“He can’t.” A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “That block was designated for preservation as a historic site. My parents worked on the application years ago.”

“True. But apparently there were errors in the paperwork filed by the county attorney, and Stan found some loopholes.” Nora’s mouth curled with disgust. “And with his political connections, he must figure he’ll have no trouble doing what he wants. He had an architect come with him from St. Paul earlier this week. The two of them walked the area so preliminary drawings could be made. They stopped in here to discuss how soon Stan could take possession, as if it were a done deal.”

Beth sat back in her chair, appalled. “So your uncle would destroy part of the historic section of this town just to make money.”

“He’s not a blood relative of mine.” Dev’s expression darkened. “He was my late aunt’s second husband. He’s a successful businessman in the Twin Cities area and a big donor at charity events. But even as a kid I heard him talk about wheeling and dealing to get exactly what he wanted. I still can’t believe Mom would even consider letting him get his hands on her property. Is there any way around it?”

“You mean, if Beth alone complied with the will, or the two of you hired a manager to take over the boardinghouse? No. Vivian made sure of it.”

“I could retain another lawyer to challenge the will.”

“You’re welcome to do so. In fact, I’d encourage it, just so you’ll feel you’ve had your best shot at this.” Nora shrugged. “But I’ve represented your family’s interests for over twenty years, so please do understand that my concern is for Vivian’s wishes along with the well-being of every family member—you included. If I thought there was a way around the stipulations in your mother’s will, I’d let you know. But,” she added with a faint smile, “I was the one who wrote it up, and I made sure it was ironclad, at her express instructions. Unless, of course, you’d returned from the military too disabled to function as an independent adult.”

Beth clutched the arms of her chair. “So if Dev and I manage the boardinghouse, he can receive his full inheritance and protect the property. What does this entail, exactly?”

“It certainly isn’t a full-time job for those six months. Vivian figured twenty hours a week, more or less, shared between the two of you. You’ll manage the house and grounds—maintenance and so on.”

“‘And so on’ could cover a lot of things.”

“You’d be expected to provide assistance and encouragement for the remaining residents, if they need or request it. That might entail helping with searches for jobs, or locating opportunities for school or training. Help with transportation, if need be. Vivian wanted her last boarders to be assisted in every way toward independence, so they can move on to careers or a happy life elsewhere. It’s what she would’ve done for them if she hadn’t passed away.”

“And if they don’t…succeed?”

“Then the estate is tied up for a final six-month period to give you more time. If it’s deemed that you made little effort to assist the boarders, then the property goes to Stan. And, of course, the boardinghouse would be closed and any remaining boarders would have to leave.”

Dev frowned. “What about day-to-day management of the house itself?”

“The residents each make their own breakfast and lunch, but take turns cooking supper for the group. Vivian worked with them as needed on the planning, budgeting and shopping lists.”

“And she left a list of reliable repair people, right?”

“Viv was actually quite handy, though she had to hire repairmen now and then.”

“My mother?”

A grin briefly touched Nora’s lips. “She certainly evolved, over time. She told me that a service manual or a quick search on Google usually provided all she needed to know.”

“And the lawn?”

“A lawn-care service could take care of the grass and snow removal, but the monthly budget is limited to the amount of rent paid plus a small stipend. So if you choose to take care of things yourself, it would save money for the bigger problems.”

Beth thought for a moment, trying to remember the old folks she’d seen toddling around town. “What if a resident is simply unable to reach independence? And who judges whether everything has been accomplished—or can’t be?”

“This isn’t an assisted-living situation. All of the residents are capable of independence and are of reasonable working age, as that was a stipulation before they could move in.” Nora folded her hands over the file on her desk. “As far as monitoring the success of the operation goes, a lawyer from Madison and I have been left with that responsibility. Our assignment is to put the welfare of the residents above everything else, and that’s what we will do.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Nora smiled. “You and Devlin will be running the show completely. Harold Billingsly and I will be reviewing the financial summary you two submit each month, along with an update on each resident.”

“Update?”

“A written report. Obviously, these people can’t be just booted out and set adrift—there needs to be a concrete plan and a move to successful independence.”

Beth felt the noose tightening.

It all sounded simple. Straightforward. But could she handle working with Dev on a daily basis? Even now, she felt the ragged edges of her emotions unraveling.

Yet if she didn’t cooperate, Dev would lose the property, and when Stan took over, she’d lose her home and her store. And those poor folks might end up out on the street. Lord, tell me what to do here.

Realizing the room had gone silent, Beth shook off her thoughts. “I’ll try. But I have a bookstore to run, with just one part-time employee who’ll soon be going on maternity leave, and I easily put in fifty hours there myself. I’m just not sure I can take on a lot more.”

“You’re debating about this?” Dev’s voice turned bitter.

At his tone, she stared back at him in disbelief. He really had no idea. “I said I’ll try. It isn’t going to be easy.”

“But we both have to cooperate, because my dear mother set quite a trap.” He made an impatient sound deep in his throat. “If either of us walks away from this, everyone loses. But if we can put up with each other for six months, then everyone wins. Including you.”

“Put up with each other?” His sharp words stung, reawakening the pain and devastating disillusionment she’d experienced over their divorce, and reminding her of all the reasons she’d hoped to never run into him again.

“Look, I know that working together is the last thing either of us wants. But didn’t you hear what Nora said? Cooperate and you’ll own your building, free and clear. Even if you despise me, isn’t that reward enough?”




Chapter Two


“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Beth stared at Dev in shock, wishing she hadn’t let her thoughts wander earlier. “We’re divorced. I shouldn’t inherit anything.”

“Apparently my mother thought otherwise.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s like Nora said—she didn’t trust me to handle this on my own. So giving you a chance to own your building was a way to ensure your cooperation.”

“It wasn’t a trust issue,” Nora interjected. “I can promise you that. She probably just felt that your current…job skills weren’t attuned to this kind of role.”

“But the building,” Beth insisted. “That’s just…” She fumbled for the right word. “Too much.”

Unless Vivian had somehow learned Beth’s secret. Was that even possible?

Dev leveled a look at her. “Maybe she figured you deserved battle pay after being married to me. Or maybe she just thought you deserved a break.”

Why hadn’t Vivian said something about this?

Dev’s abrupt decision to file for divorce had hurt his mother deeply—Beth had seen it in her eyes. Her former mother-in-law had remained distant but cordial whenever she stopped at the bookstore or joined the crowd lingering outside church on Sunday mornings. She’d even sent Beth a Christmas card, and included her in the dozens of townsfolk she invited for a Christmas brunch last year, though the divorce had long since been finalized.

But Vivian never made a single comment about the divorce, and there certainly had never been any hint at the contents of her will.

Beth frowned. “This must be a mistake—a forgotten clause in the will, or something.”

Nora cleared her throat. “It’s all legal and proper. She revised her will last February, actually, five months after your divorce was final. She went over every paragraph of it with me.”

“Still, the boardinghouse would be far better managed by someone experienced in the field.” Dev made an impatient motion with his hand. “Maybe a social worker. Or a nurse.”

“Like I said, these were your mother’s wishes. She didn’t want to leave her charges to flounder without her,” Nora said with a firm smile. “I’m sure she figured you would follow through.”

He studied Beth for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Maybe she had other motives.”

Horror and embarrassment washed through Beth at the obvious implication. “You think she wanted us thrown together over this?”

He didn’t respond, but she could see his answer from the hard glint in his eyes. He probably even thought Beth had been in on the “plan,” and there was no way to prove him wrong. Did he really think she was so needy and pathetic?

She could feel her cheeks burning. “Your mother might’ve had fond dreams of happily-ever-afters, but if so, she was sadly mistaken. That could never happen. You made that more than clear when you demanded a divorce. And believe me, I have absolutely no desire to turn back the clock.”

At the force behind her words, he looked taken aback. “No insult intended.”

No insult intended? He was even more obtuse than she’d thought. She took a steadying breath. “None taken. I’m just stating facts.”

Nora glanced between them. “I’m guessing this is going to be an uneasy peace between you two. Maybe even impossible.”

Silence stretched uncomfortably between them.

“I’ll request extension of my leave,” he finally said through clenched teeth. “We can make this work. Right, Beth?”

Beth swallowed hard. “If we want to save your inheritance and my bookstore, we don’t have a choice.”

She reached out and tried to ignore the sudden, familiar warmth that sped through her when his large, strong hand briefly enveloped hers. Warmth that triggered a rush of memories, both good and bad.

He dropped her hand as if he’d touched fire, and she knew he’d felt it, too.

They had six long months ahead.

Six. Long. Months.

The thought made her shudder, yet there was too much at stake to risk failure. And not just for herself.

Tourism had revitalized the town, but the tourists wouldn’t come back if Stan pursued his business interests and destroyed the historic district in the process. If that happened, too many good friends and neighbors would suffer. The owners of the gift shops, the coffeehouses, the antique stores. Even the little marina owned by old Mr. Gerber, who’d added a fresh coat of paint to the main building just this summer.

They were all starting to prosper after far too many years of struggle, and it could all be wiped out if the quaint and inviting atmosphere of the town changed.

All she and Dev needed to do was get along and work together, and in six months everyone would have a more secure future. The shopkeepers. Vivian’s last set of boarders. And Beth would even own the beloved building that housed her bookstore—something she’d never thought possible.

Dear Lord, help us succeed. Guide us in helping those people. And please, for as long as Dev is here, help me protect my heart.



Dev stepped into the Walker Building and breathed in the musty scents of mold and mice. Light filtered through the grime and cobweb-festooned mullioned windows facing the street, while the back half of the building was cast in deep shadow.

A wide, open staircase rose along the wall to the left, the wooden steps littered with crumbling cardboard boxes overflowing with yellowed newspapers and what appeared to be rags.

He’d had to come back for another look, even if his every decision would now have to be put on hold until he’d met the crazy stipulations in his mother’s will.

On the endless series of flights coming back to the States and during those long days at Walter Reed, he’d had plenty of time to think, and had planned to make this trip into his past as brief as possible.

But now, the charm and peacefulness of the village called out to him with its scents of pine. The sound of Aspen Creek rushing southward over the boulders strewn through its rocky bed. The absolute lushness of the trees and undergrowth and the damp, fertile earth, so unlike the dry and inhospitable climate where he’d spent much of his adult life.

And with those scents, those sounds, came the memories he’d so carefully shelved away. Of jangling sleigh bells and the clopping of draft horse hooves on snow-covered asphalt, come Christmastime, when sleighs served as taxis for the tourists and locals who came into town for all of the Victorian decorations. The sweet, sweet scent of burning leaves and fragrant pumpkin pies and the local parade at the end of October, during the annual Fall Harvest celebration.

He stepped farther into the building and felt a sense of peace in its silence, its massive stone walls. As a child he’d loved this old building, imagining knights on chargers jangling through the stone arches that framed each door and window. Envisioning Merlin and King Arthur sitting before the immense mouth of a fireplace inside, and a damsel peering from one of the soaring stone turrets that rose above the roofline.

Now, the cavernous interior and multitude of windows spoke to him in a different way.

He closed his eyes, imagining the place filled with soft candlelight and the hushed murmurs of diners sitting at tables set with crystal and silver. Or maybe retail shelving, stocked with colorful toys, antiques or camping gear…or even trendy clothing, maybe. The stuff of fun and relaxation, and the bounteous civilian life that allowed people time to savor some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.

And he tried to imagine a time when war would no longer be a part of his life. No reconnaissance missions, no explosions. No rapid-fire, staccato blast of his M249 while he covered his buddies…or the comforting weight of an M16 cradled in his arms.

But that was reality.

Being here was like stepping into an old-fashioned Christmas card that he’d have to file away in a few months, because he might as well be visiting the moon for as much as he could relate to the breezy, small-town atmosphere where the greatest dangers were mosquitoes and the newest crop of inept teenage drivers. He couldn’t even begin to relate to the innocent, cheerful residents who expected to go about their business unharmed every single day, then sleep safe in their own warm beds at night.

Shaking off his thoughts, he wandered through the building, trying to quell the deep sense of longing flickering to life inside his chest.

Each of the four buildings in this block were roughly the same, with thick sandstone walls built to last for centuries, and old glass rippled with age set in the tall, narrow windows. Yet each building also bore unique, whimsical details in the fanciful figures carved into the stone lintels over their doorways, the patterns of the mullioned windows on the second floors, and the ornate details in the rooflines and eaves.

He still couldn’t believe his mother had risked letting any of this fall into the hands of her brother-in-law, unless she’d wanted to insure that Dev would come home to stay, so he could prevent it. Was she really that crafty? Had she no idea of how difficult it would be for him to deal with Beth? Didn’t she care?

Then again, Mom hadn’t really known him at all. He certainly hadn’t come home much, and when he did, he hadn’t stayed long. He was a far, far different person now than he’d been as a boy.

His palm still burned at the remembered touch of Beth’s hand back at the law office, and his conscience nagged at him over how rude he’d been.

On the trip home from D.C. he’d dredged up a few rusty prayers over how he was going to avoid running into his ex-wife. Gutless prayers, to be sure, and since few of his prayers had been answered in battle, he’d figured that the Almighty wasn’t listening anyway.

God sure had to be laughing now.

Having to face her during that meeting had left him more tense than any battle or covert operation. And now, instead of managing to avoid her and the old, raw emotions surrounding their ill-fated marriage, he was going to be seeing her all the time.

Worse, he had to do a good job of it—to insure that the stipulations of his mother’s will were met well enough to pass muster with a couple of attorneys planning to guard her interests.

The irony was almost enough to help him ignore the aching in his shoulder and the sharp, stabbing pain that radiated down his upper arm with every unguarded movement.

At the sound of a knocking behind him, he spun toward the front door, automatically reaching for his absent weapon and scanning the interior of the building for exits and cover, his heart rate escalating.

He blinked.

Forced himself to relax.

And squinted into the sunlight streaming in behind a slender figure silhouetted in the windowed upper half of the door. Though the thick, rippled glass muted her shape, his gut wrenched and his heart took an extra thud at his instant recognition, triggering emotions and memories that were long dead…and would stay that way.

She knocked again, then tried the door handle and pushed the door open to stand in the entry, looking a little hesitant. “I…I was outside the bookstore and saw you unlocking the door down here. Mind if I come in?”

He gave a single, sharp nod.

Beth stepped a few feet inside. Avoiding his gaze, she surveyed the interior, her eyes sparkling. “Wow—just look at the natural light coming through all the high windows, and look at all the space. This place has tremendous potential. It ought to be perfect for whatever kind of business moves in here.” She gave him a speculative look. “Maybe you should just lease it instead of selling. You might want to come home for good someday.”

“No. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can, and I won’t be back. There’s nothing to keep me here anymore.”

Her expression hardened. “Of course not.”

Guilt lanced through him at his inadvertent, callous words. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She raised a delicate eyebrow, making him feel like an even bigger jerk. “We’ve both moved on. All for the best, and all of that. Right?”

A shaft of sunlight lit her wildly curly chestnut hair, highlighting its varying shades of amber and gold. It had always felt so soft and silky, he remembered; baby fine and fragrant with the scent of wildflowers. Gentle, just like her.

She’d so deserved better than someone like him.

He belatedly realized that he hadn’t answered her when her smile wobbled and her gaze slid away from his.

“I…didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything,” she murmured. “We can talk another time.”

She wore gleaming gold hoops in her ears and a long denim skirt, topped with an oversize ruby sweater that looked soft as rabbit’s fur. Despite the casual clothes, she had an air of sophistication and reserve far different from the girl she’d been years ago.

It was something he needed to remember.

They’d both changed so much. There was no going back. All they needed was to be businesslike. Polite. Focused.

“But I do think we need to talk, Dev,” she added. “When you have some time.”

He winced. “Uh…yeah. Some time.”

She ignored his dismissal. “Maybe now rather than later, come to think of it.” Her mouth flattened. “Because I think we need to make something perfectly clear.”




Chapter Three


Maybe Beth hadn’t much personal experience, given her absentee husband, but she’d certainly read enough of the pop-psychology books in her store to know that most guys cringed at the thought of discussing feelings. If she’d ever doubted that bit of wisdom, she only had to look at Dev’s guarded expression to know it was true.

But standing here alone with him, with no other distractions, was probably the perfect place to set things straight.

“We need to talk,” she said briskly, “because we need to put the past to rest, once and for all. Otherwise, this situation will be unbelievably awkward.”

He studied her, his eyes wary, as if he expected her to dissolve into a tearful, wretched mess.

But she’d die before she allowed him to catch even a glimpse of the damage he’d caused…or the pain she felt, every single day, since her life had been shattered. No matter what her mother claimed, he had relinquished that right.

“I admit…” She hesitated, searching for an innocuous word that would betray nothing of how she truly felt. “That it was a shock when you insisted on a divorce. But you have your life in the service and other relationships to pursue, I’m sure. The last thing you needed were bothersome ties to a wife back home. Right?”

His eyebrows drew together.

“It didn’t take long for me to get over it, really.” She managed a smile, even though her heart was pounding against her ribs and the half-truth now lodged in her throat like a chunk of granite. “So don’t worry about having to deal with any big scenes from me. I have no regrets.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s…good.”

“So with that cleared up, it shouldn’t be hard to maintain a business relationship with each other, right?” She fluttered a dismissive hand. “The other thing I need to clarify is that your mother’s will was a complete surprise. I had no idea she’d included me, and I certainly didn’t try to finagle my way into her good graces.”

“I never said—”

“But you might have thought it. Just so you know, your mother was polite but distant to me after the divorce. Even before that, we were never chummy during all the times you were away in the service. There were no little chats, no invitations for coffee. So if you’re imagining any sort of collusion regarding you, her will or my bookstore building, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “I didn’t suggest anything of the sort.”

“She stayed in your corner,” Beth added for emphasis. “And I didn’t expect or seek anything more. Now it’s your turn.”

“What?”

“If you have any concerns or questions, go for it.”

He fell silent, his intense gaze locked on hers, as if he were examining her very soul. “I…guess not,” he said at last.

“Good. So now we can try to be friendly business associates, at least. No other expectations.”

“Right.”

“It’s good to see you in one piece,” she added. “When I heard you’d been wounded, I started praying that you’d be all right.”

His gaze shifted away. “Thanks.”

Years ago, he might’ve added a sardonic laugh at any acknowledgment of her faith, but this time he actually seemed to mean it. Yet another way he’d changed into someone she no longer knew, she mused. “So you think your shoulder will be fine for active duty?”

“It had better be,” he muttered.

He edged away and she saw the glint of something at his ear. “Was…that your only injury this time?”

“Pretty much.” But then he caught her studying him, and he sighed. “That, and a little hearing loss,” he admitted. “Just temporary.”

“I read a Newsweek article that said a lot of soldiers suffer permanent hearing loss because of the gunfire and explosions. Then they can’t go back.”

“It won’t be an issue,” he bit out as he strode to the entryway. “Not with me.”



Though she’d told herself that she wouldn’t ever waste the time, she thought about Devlin as she headed back to the bookstore.

He had caught the eye of all the girls in high school, and no wonder. But while his golden-flecked, whiskey-brown eyes and the dark sweep of his eyebrows had bordered on heartthrob handsome as a teenager, now he was at least six feet of solid muscle, and the uncompromising planes and angles of his lean face were attractive in a far more rugged way.

They’d married young—too young. They’d probably been as much in love with love itself as they’d been in love with each other. With her own rocky family life—a free-spirited, irresponsible mother and a dad she barely knew—marriage had promised love and stability, and offered the kind of security she’d rarely felt growing up.

In comparison, Dev’s family had seemed like something straight out of a happy TV sitcom—parents who’d been married for over twenty years, who’d lived in the same house since before Dev was born, who lived their faith in a steadfast way. She’d imagined that when she and Dev were that old, they’d be just like them.

She’d discovered the truth much later.

Alan’s ironclad expectation that Dev would achieve nothing less than straight A’s in high school and then go into medicine had sparked extreme tension between them. With Alan, nothing was ever good enough…and Vivian had sided with her husband.

For coming through his teen years as balanced as he was, given the constant criticism he faced at home, Beth had been completely impressed with Dev’s strength. She’d been so sure their marriage would be a safe and happy shelter from the world.

But growing up in a cold and distant household and building a career in the military hadn’t made him a warmer guy.

Then out of the blue, he’d come home from a tour in some undisclosed place, and announced that their marriage was over. No explanations, no apologies…and the next day he was gone.

He’d been a wild one, a charmer in high school, and she should have known better than to risk her heart.

It wouldn’t be something she’d ever do again.



Beth eyed the antique grandfather clock opposite the checkout counter. The stately pendulum swung back and forth. Back and forth. Slower, it seemed, than ever before.

Twenty-four minutes to go, and counting.

Sauntering through the empty store once more, she straightened books and fluffed the colorful patchwork pillows strewn on the overstuffed chairs angled into every corner.

She’d let Janet, her sole employee, leave early to make it to her twins’ Friday night football game in nearby Parkersville, and since then there’d been exactly two customers who’d braved the unseasonable chilly evening to stop in.

Both were frequent browsers, but the gentleman did put a heavy coffee-table book on Egyptian art on layaway, and his cheerful little wife selected several magazines while she sipped hot peach tea.

Eighteen minutes.

Beth thought longingly of the raspberry scones and hot chocolate that she’d savor upstairs in less than an hour. After today, she needed that and a good hot bubble bath, too.

Nearly two-dozen three-year-olds had run amok in the store during the morning—ostensibly for story time, though they were new to the preschool experience and none landed in one spot long enough to hear more than a few consecutive words.

As soon as they left, both Beth and Janet had flopped onto the red velvet sofa in the History section and burst into laughter.

The afternoon had been quieter, with the garden club ladies using the meeting area to discuss the town square gardens for next year.

And then there’d been her talk with Dev.

Even now, her midsection felt jittery and unsettled, though she was pretty sure she’d carried off her visit with an air of calm detachment that had conveyed none of her true emotions.

Lord, I hope You’ll help me through the next six months, because it isn’t going to be easy.

She eyed the clock again. Fifteen minutes to go. Good enough.

Her step lighter, she made one more sweep of the store, checking the windows and back door, then ended up at the front register where she began counting out the cash drawer.

The jangle of the bells over the front door startled her and she spun in that direction. Her mouth fell open at the rainbow apparition standing just inside. “Mom?”

“Sugar!” Metal bracelets clanging and overlarge hoop earrings flashing, Maura Carrigan swept forward in a flurry of multiple layers of fuchsia and peridot scarves and shawls over some sort of canary, gauzy muumuu underneath. Blond this time, her hair caught up in a twist with strands flying about her face, she was as colorful as a one-woman carnival.

Beth accepted her mother’s fierce hug and hugged her in return. “You look…wonderful.”

Maura grimaced. “Not really, after all those days on the road. But color always perks me right up.” She held Beth’s shoulders and took a step back to survey her head to toe. “My goodness, but you’re thin.”

“Not thin. Ten pounds too high, according to the charts.”

“Thin,” Maura retorted. “And so…so staid. It’s a good thing I’m here.”

Amused, Beth looked down. “A long denim skirt and cranberry sweater isn’t exactly staid. I think I’m actually sort of Midwestern hip.”

“Well, we’re going to see what we can do about that, hon.”

At Maura’s calculating appraisal, Beth quelled the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother had embraced the flower child era with gusto, and at sixty she had yet to let it go. “I’m nearly done down here, Mother. As soon as I close, we can go upstairs. I’ve got the guest room ready. It’s small, but you’ll be comfortable while you’re here.”

“It’s a lovely room, as I remember. Now, don’t mind me. I’ll just wander around the store for a while and let you finish up.”

Beth watched her stroll away, the initial bounce in her step fading. Was that a weary droop to her shoulders? Despite Maura’s trademark ebullience upon arrival, there’d also been something else—a trace of worry, maybe. Or stress. Two emotions she’d always said she wouldn’t waste a nickel on, which made them of concern now. Was it just the long trip, or was something else going on?

Frowning, Beth finished checking her totals and filled out a deposit slip.

A minute later the door jangled again…probably Maura heading out to get her luggage, Beth thought as she dropped the money and slip into an Aspen Creek Savings & Loan night-deposit bag.

“You’re closing up already? Guess I got here too late.”

At the all-too familiar deep rumble of his voice, Beth looked up in shock. “D-Dev?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re right on all counts.” He approached the front counter with the newest Lee Child hardback in his hand, his eyes troubled. He dropped a couple of twenties on the counter. “This situation isn’t going to be easy for either of us, but we’ll manage. I want to apologize for being rude, and thank you for being willing to try.”

She glanced over her shoulder, then rang up the purchase and handed back his change, hoping he wouldn’t linger. “Maybe we can discuss this tomorrow morning—”

But it was too late.

In a flurry of retro-hippie scarves and beads, Maura came around the corner of a bookshelf clutching a large hardback on organic gardening.

Her mouth fell open, then her eyes narrowed. “Devlin,” she exclaimed, her voice low and bitter as she looked between Beth and her nemesis, then pinned her glare on Dev.

“Mom, please,” Beth pleaded.

“How can he have the audacity to come in here?”

“I think I’d better go,” Dev said in a low voice. He turned to leave. “No sense in making anyone upset.”

Beth watched him go, her heart heavy. Maura had been against their marriage from day one, proclaiming that it was a terrible mistake. Ever the champion for her two daughters, she’d later pinned all blame for the divorce on Dev’s shoulders. Her heart had truly turned to stone over what happened after that, and Beth knew her mother would never, ever forgive him.

But the clock was already ticking on the situation with the Sloane House boarders. There was a lot of work to do with no time to waste, and much of it was going to involve Dev.

It was going to be hard enough as it was, and now Beth could only pray that she could keep her mother and Dev apart until at least one of them left town.




Chapter Four


Beth stood at the open door of her car and watched Dev park his late father’s Jeep behind her bumper, hoping her mother’s outburst hadn’t irreparably damaged their tenuous truce.

Maura had retreated into troubled silence on the topic of Dev after their encounter on Friday night. And since Dev had never been one for emotional scenes, preferring a stony retreat to fanning the flames of an argument, it wasn’t likely the two of them would ever come to any level of understanding even if they did run into each other again.

Beth had hoped to see him at church this morning for a chance to talk, but the fact that he hadn’t shown up wasn’t a surprise. As a teenager he’d attended only rarely and probably under duress, though his parents had been pillars of the community and staunch members of the church.

An old memory surfaced, of the first Sunday after Beth’s family had moved to town. She’d been a high school sophomore, and could still remember seeing the dark, brooding teenager in a pew with his parents. He’d been tall, dark and impossibly handsome. That raw, youthful appeal had nothing on what he’d become…six feet of solid muscle, with an aura of strength, even when he was standing still.

She’d never known exactly what he did in the Marines, but had no doubt that he completed his missions with the kind of intense, lethal power that allowed nothing to stand in his way.

Now, he climbed out of his vehicle, clearly favoring his injured shoulder, and started up the walk leading to the two-story brick home where he’d grown up, pausing to stare at the discreet, forest-green sign over the porch steps with Sloane House written in fanciful gilt letters.

There was no warmth in the firm set of his jaw or the flinty expression in his eyes when he spared a brief nod in her direction.

“Cool wheels,” she called out as she closed her car door.

“What?”

Belatedly remembering that he might not hear her clearly, she spoke louder. “The Jeep. It sure brings back memories.”

“Dad’s house calls,” he said on a long sigh.

Clutching a leather folder to her chest, she caught up with him at the front steps. “He had to be the last of a dying breed. He was such an institution around here.”

“A real hero, all right.”

Though from the lack of emotion in Dev’s voice, he’d been one to everyone but his son. “Even if he wasn’t a perfect father, he was well loved in the community, Dev.”

Dev tipped his head in silent acknowledgment.

“Nora told the boarders that we’d be here this afternoon. So how do you want to handle this?” Beth asked.

“I don’t. Hand me an M16—”

Startled, she looked over her shoulder at him. “A what?”

“Hand me an M16, give me a mission, and I’m good to go. But I don’t fit this everyday life in the States anymore. So how am I going to help these folks? If my mother cared about them, she should’ve allowed us to hire the appropriate staff.”

Beth suppressed a shudder, imagining the kinds of dangers he’d faced all these years. “I’m not sure these people need a staff, as such.”

“Then aren’t there other options—like low-cost public housing?”

“Not nearly enough in the county, and none here in Aspen Creek. The economy hit this town pretty hard over the past few years, so I don’t suppose there are any plans, either.”

Dev looked unconvinced. “I knew she’d turned the house into a boardinghouse, but her country club and golf buddies were her primary focus when I was a kid. I still can’t imagine my mother doing this.”

Privately, Beth agreed. Vivian Sloane certainly hadn’t had a very warm heart when it came to welcoming a young daughter-in-law into the family. What could have made her change during the last few years?

“Well, Nora has been overseeing things since your mother passed away, and that’s what her report said. Did you read your copy?”

“Just the first few pages so far.”

“She explained the whole operation, and listed the current residents. We’ve got just four adults here, plus one of them has her young son with her.”

Dev’s eyebrows rose. “A child? Here?”

“Hey, there are homeless families everywhere. At least this mom has a safe place for her son to live.”

“How long have they all been here?”

Beth shuffled through the papers in the folder. “According to the records, the current boarders moved in during the three months prior to your mother’s heart attack. Elana and her son Cody arrived just the week before.” She looked up and caught a flicker of uneasiness in Dev’s eyes. “But good news—residents do benefit from being here, and then they do move on. There were actually two more women and a gentleman, who left a few weeks ago.”

“Successfully, I hope.”

“All have their own apartments now, and have jobs in town. Nora has checked in on them a couple of times.” She looked up at him, and bit back a smile at the grim set of his mouth. “This isn’t some dangerous mission, Dev. It might actually be fun.”

“Right. If ‘the blind leading the blind’ isn’t a recipe for failure.”

“We’ll do fine. I suppose we should talk to them as a group and allay any fears they may have, then meet with everyone individually. What do you think?”

He sighed.

“Ready?” She crossed the wide plank floor of the porch, noting the half-dozen Adirondack chairs and rockers with bright red cushions and a checkers set sitting on a table. At the front door she hesitated, then rapped on the door.

A few moments later, a somber, gray-haired man peered out a beveled windowpane in the door before he opened it. “You must be Vivian’s boy.” He gave Dev a narrowed look. “And…you must be Beth Carrigan. We’ve heard about things changing around here.”

“We’re only coming on board to help out. Right, Dev?” She looked over her shoulder and winced at his dark expression.

“Folks here are worried. Most of us have been waiting in the parlor to hear what you have to say.”

“And you are?” Beth asked, extending her hand.

“Carl White. Thirty-two years on the railroad line till my heart gave out.” He thumped his barrel chest with his fist. “Got a pacemaker and new valves—a real overhaul. Almost ready to go down the tracks again.”

But his face was ashen, and he sucked in a rattling breath after each sentence. If he was planning to go down the road, she hoped it wouldn’t be very far.

“Good to meet you, Carl.”

Overhead, a massive chandelier hung in the center of the two-story entryway. Beyond lay a wide hallway flanked by a curving, open staircase with a dark, burnished oak railing.

Beth had always been as intimidated by the grandeur of the house as she’d been by her in-laws’ subtle disapproval. From the stiff set of Dev’s shoulders, he didn’t have happy memories about the place, either. No wonder. With his mother’s charitable works and active social life and his father’s dedication to medicine, they’d earned a sterling reputation in town, but they sure hadn’t put a priority on understanding and supporting their only child’s wishes.

Carl led them to the dining room, where the original, gleaming cherrywood dining room table and chairs for twelve still took center stage.

A patrician silver-haired man, probably in his early sixties, studied them as they walked in. The austere, elegant woman across from him was a woman whom Beth recognized as an infrequent customer at the bookstore. Her upswept, coal-black hair and perfect manicure were badges of prosperity, so what was she doing here?

Carl cleared his throat. “This is Frank Ferguson and Reva Young.” The woman nodded. “Our youngest residents, Elana Mendez and her boy, couldn’t be here.”

Beth cast a quick glance at Dev, but he shook his head slightly, turning the discussion over to her.

“As you know, Dev and I have been given the responsibility of taking over the management of this house, to satisfy the promises his mother made to each of you. Today we’d like to meet with each of you privately to discuss your concerns and needs. But first, are there any questions we should address with the group?”

Carl scowled. “About the costs…are they going to be the same?”

Wishing Dev had been more willing to discuss details out on the porch, she shot another glance at him and caught his almost imperceptible shrug, then nodded. “According to the documents I have, you all pay a flat hundred-dollar monthly rent for your room, plus a hundred for your share of the food, supplies and lawn care. We have no plans to change that at this time.”

Pugnacious as a boxer spoiling for a fight, Carl sat forward with his jaw jutting, drumming his fingers on the table. “When do you plan to kick us all out and close this place?”

“The agreement you all had with Vivian was for a six-month stay—renewable based on need, on a case-by-case basis. Her will stated that should she pass away, the full six-month period would start fresh for everyone living here.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll do our best to help you all get a good start at renewed independence,” Beth assured him. “Just like Vivian did. No one will be thrown out in the street. If there are problems, we’ll talk. However, this was never intended to be a long-term boardinghouse.”

Beth felt a tug at her heart when Carl nodded bleakly. For all his crotchety bluster, he was afraid. What would happen to these people if successful independence wasn’t attainable within six months, or even a year? Yet…what could happen to the viability of this entire scenic tourist town if that didn’t happen, and Stan Murdock got his hands on the property?

Would Nora and Harold be ruthless in their application of the terms of Vivian’s will and let Stan lead the town to ruin?



After fielding a few more questions, Beth and Dev moved to the parlor across the hall to meet with the residents individually. With each passing hour, Beth’s concern grew. Was it even possible to meet the stipulations of Vivian’s will?





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