Brooklyn Prairie Publishing

Copyright © 2026 Jodi Culliney

All rights reserved.

Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9908336-8-5

ePub ISBN: 979-8-9908336-9-2

Book I: Excess Baggage - A Love Story

Book II: Cutting Losses - A Redemption Story

Book III: Mixed Messages - A Love Story

Book IV: Second Chances - A Later in Life Love Story

CONTENTS

Prologue

1. Charlotte

2. Henry

3. Charlotte

4. Henry

5. Charlotte

6. Henry

7. Charlotte

8. Diadema

9. Charlotte

10. Henry

11. Henry

12. Charlotte

13. Henry

14. Effie

15. Charlotte

16. Henry

17. Melanie

18. Henry and Charlotte

19. Henry and Charlotte

20. Henry and Charlotte

21. Melanie

22. Cait

23. George

24. Charlotte

25. Henry and Charlotte

26. Henry and Charlotte

27. Melanie

28. Henry

29. Charlotte

30. Henry and Charlotte

31. Charlotte

32. Henry and Charlotte

33. Josh

34. Charlotte

35. Cait

36. Henry

37. Charlotte

38. Melanie

39. Henry

40. Charlotte

41. Henry

42. Henry and Charlotte

43. Henry

44. Amy

45. Henry

46. Charlotte

47. Henry and Charlotte

Epilogue

Series Note

Acknowledgments

About the Author

For all English teachers, especially Ruth Wilson, Fran Peterson, and Craig Fonder: thanks for the grammar, the stories, and the inspiration.

On his son’s wedding day, Henry considered three women in his life, all of whom he had loved, and all of whom were taking up space in his head. The first woman he had naively loved as a teenager, and even though he had worshipped her and would have done anything for her, she had never returned his affection. The second woman had broken his heart, devastating him, and even though they had made a life together, she never trusted his love, abandoning him and their son after years of discontent. Having endured a lifetime of loneliness, Henry’s world had finally opened with the magic promise of the woman he had fallen in love with, a woman he suspected would love him in return.

“Hey,” Charlotte whispered, her breath tickling his ear. “You promised me the first slow dance, remember?” Arms circled him from behind, and he groaned as she pressed her generous curves into his back. “I suppose it’s too soon for us to go back to my place, but I am in desperate need of your body. Dancing will have to do.” She nipped his earlobe. “For now.”

Still stunned he had caught this alluring woman’s attention, Henry cupped her cheeks in his hands after turning to face her. “Who said it was too soon?” His mouth captured hers, and he savored the taste of wedding cake and champagne on her lips, making him want her more. Was it too soon to leave? he wondered.

Shivering as Charlotte’s manicured fingernails scratched a line down his back underneath his suit jacket, Henry deepened their kiss. To his dismay, his date pulled away with a laugh. “Well, for one thing, I think your son would have an issue if his dad disappeared. Especially before you danced with your new daughter-in-law, which they announced would be the next dance.” Her gentle fingertips smoothed his hair from his forehead. “Where were you, anyway? The lead singer called for you, but you weren’t here.”

“Sorry about that,” Henry flushed, wanting more than anything to confess where he had been, but he couldn’t. Doing so would put a damper on what should be a joyous event and potentially strain their budding relationship, because he had been keeping the truth from Charlotte. “I was helping one of the servers in the parking lot. His car battery was dead and needed a jump.” All true, but he withheld the painful phone call he had just ended with his ex-wife. The same ex-wife whom Charlotte believed he wasn’t in contact with. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to the top of it. “What was that about a dance?”

As Charlotte led him to the dance floor, they passed by the parents of his son’s bride. Unable to avoid it, Henry caught the eye of the bride’s mother. She, too, had been in the parking lot…she had been the reason he had found himself in the parking lot. “Henry, I need to speak with you, please,” she had implored after the bride and groom had their first dance. He hadn’t told Charlotte about that, either.

Twirling Charlotte, Henry replicated a move he had learned watching his own parents at other weddings. Not his own, of course; his wedding had taken place at the county courthouse when he was eighteen. To shut out past pain, Henry closed his eyes while his lips grazed the top of Charlotte’s head. When his eyelids lifted, the mother-of-the-bride was in his line of sight, studying him. His phone vibrated in his pocket, demanding his attention. Why couldn’t he just be allowed to savor this moment with Charlotte, a woman who had done nothing but freely express her feelings for him? The only woman Henry had never had to chase, never had to convince that he could be the right man for, Charlotte was sunshine, brightness, and laughter; later tonight, he planned to confess his love to her.

Henry’s son, who had not had an easy life but had come through every challenge stronger than before, cut in, asking to dance with Charlotte. Henry then swept the bride across the dance floor, an honor he’d been looking forward to all day. When the band played a song that brought the younger people to the dance floor, he hugged his new daughter-in-law before sidling over to the bar for a whiskey sour.

From the outskirts of the wedding dance, Henry marveled at the number of people in attendance celebrating the marriage of Josh and Effie. His pocket buzzed again. Against his better judgment, he brought his phone out, slipping out the side exit of the reception area to read the message. His ex-wife. Again. Why couldn’t she just leave them in peace? Why couldn’t he ignore her? After silencing her earlier, guilt had forced him to reverse his decision, an action he regretted almost immediately.

I need a chance to explain—you owe me that much. I am begging you to please call me.

There is something you need to know—tonight!!!

Please. Just call me and I won’t bother you again. I promise.

Henry, if I ever meant anything to you, you will call me back. Please.

If she ever meant anything to him? Was she serious? She had been everything—it had been Henry who had never been enough for her. Frowning, he pocketed his phone, putting an end to the games she insisted on playing, intent on getting back to Charlotte, who he was sure would again be missing his presence by now.

“Hi…Henry.” A voice spoke from behind, one he barely heard over the band inside the building.

In confusion, he blinked at the young woman, vaguely familiar to him. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” He was positive he didn’t, but there was something about her. Maybe it was her sky-blue eyes or her light-blonde hair?

She smiled tremulously. “Yes…I mean, no, you don’t know me…but we spoke earlier.”

“Oh, yes—Sophie, right?” Now he recalled her introducing herself to him after the wedding, as the photographer took wedding photos. “I’m sorry, it’s been a busy day,” he explained, perplexed why this young lady would have sought him out today, not once, but twice. “Can I help you?”

“I think so.” She opened and closed her mouth several times but remained silent.

He waited patiently for her to continue. The door opened behind him, and someone else said, “Henry, please, can we finish our talk?”

Glancing over, he held up his hand to the intruder, shaking his head “no” in response. Looking back to Sophie, he said, “I’m sorry,” but she was gone, as quickly as she had appeared, leaving him confused. Adding her to the list of women on his mind, he returned to the wedding dance.

Charlotte Berg and her best friend, Amy, were on their way to the Black Hills in South Dakota for a long weekend, blasting Linda Ronstadt and singing “You’re No Good” at the top of their lungs. Only one week since Charlotte finalized her divorce, and Amy insisted on getting her out of Iowa and out of her own head, declaring that Deadwood was the best place to do so. “You won’t be able to hear a thing above the noise of the slot machines. And when you’re playing blackjack, all you’ll care about will be hitting twenty-one!” Charlotte, too emotionally raw to resist, was now anticipating a weekend of senseless fun.

Amy, always the adventure-seeker, was traveling only state highways for the drive north and then west, when the women encountered the quaint town of Beverley. “Lottie, how do you feel about stopping for lunch somewhere here?”

Surprised by the growling of her stomach, Charlotte answered, “Perfect,” and meant it. Since the divorce, her appetite had been almost nonexistent; today, however, it was making a welcome comeback.

Amy waved her arm out her open window. “It’s like we drove onto the set of Gilmore Girls or something, right?” Brick buildings with intricately carved wooden cornices dotted Main Street, and the library to Charlotte’s right was particularly spectacular, with columns supporting the gabled roof at the top of the wide staircase. A copper dome adorning the top of the library acted almost as a beacon to book lovers, or anyone craving the quiet sanctuary of the historic building.

They navigated their way through Beverley, and Charlotte pointed out a gazebo in the town park. “Oh, look at that! Isn’t it charming? Can you imagine sitting there, on a gorgeous day like today, reading a book?”

As her friend glanced over, she snickered. “Right, Lottie, it looks like they’re getting a lot of reading done.” Once they got closer, Charlotte spotted the two bodies Amy was joking about, entwined on a bench in the gazebo. Dark blond hair mixed with jet black, the couple’s passion was palpable across the park.

“I can’t even remember what it’s like to be that in love,” Charlotte confessed when they stopped at a red light.

“For the record, I’m not sure you ever were that in love,” Amy responded, as only a best friend of forty-five years could. “I mean—we can talk about this now, right?”

“Yes, we can talk about it!” Charlotte’s terse response earned her a side glance from Amy. A deep breath helped calm her. “I don’t know why everyone feels like they have to tiptoe around my divorce. People get divorced every day.” And they did—Charlotte just never imagined that she would be one of them. Then again, she had also never imagined she and her ex-husband Brady would last as long as they had, either. “You know, I was unhappy for so long being married that I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been. I convinced myself that I regretted it from day one.” When Charlotte got pregnant her senior year in high school, both her parents and Brady’s assumed the teenagers would get married. Without missing a beat, he proposed, and a month after the couple’s high school graduation, they tied the knot in a small ceremony. “Remember how everyone kept calling it a shotgun wedding?”

“Right—like you were the first couple ever to get married while pregnant. For a variety of reasons, it wasn’t exactly a happy day, was it, Lottie? Honestly, the entire summer was hell. While I was getting ready for college, you were getting ready for a baby.” Amy squeezed Charlotte’s hand in hers. “We never got to be college roommates like we had planned.” Charlotte, with her looming due date, had not gone to the University of Iowa as she had intended.

“Can I confess something? When you left for Iowa City that August, I was so envious. Maybe a little resentful, too,” she shook her head, “of both you and Brady. It wasn’t fair that he still got to go to college. I mean, sure, he never left Sioux City, but his plans weren’t derailed, like mine.” A tractor two cars ahead of them made traffic crawl along Main Street. In the silence of the car, Charlotte admitted to her lifelong friend, “You know, I was planning on breaking up with Brady that summer. Didn’t want to be one of those stereotypical girls starting college with a boyfriend.” She emitted a small chuckle. “Instead, by the time I finally started college, I had not only a husband but also a five-year-old.” Beginning her adult life had been nothing like she had expected, but she had no choice but to come to terms with her reality quickly.

“Oh, Lottie,” Amy assured her, “it’s okay to have mixed feelings about everything. Even if your marriage wasn’t the steamy love affair you’ve read about in books, you guys were together a long time.”

“That’s why it was so hard to let go. Staying married was safe.” And an unspoken agreement between Charlotte and Brady, until he met someone else, leaving her to question how much of her life she had put on hold while devoting herself to her family. “Now here I am: single and fifty.” And confused with her newly found freedom.

The tractor finally turned, and they came to a shop called Mr. Beans. “Does this look okay?” Amy pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head after parallel parking.

“Does what look okay? Your parking job or you using your sunglasses as a headband? You know I hate that,” she teased, switching her own sunglasses to her regular eyewear.

“No, you bitch, does this place look okay for lunch?” Amy clarified with a chuckle. “Don’t get salty with me about my sunglasses. We all have our own styles, and this is mine!”

“I stand corrected,” Charlotte grinned. “I’m just jealous my glasses always need to be on my face, not on top of my head. And yes, this place looks great. Ooh, look at the menu board. The special is a warm chicken salad sandwich. Yum—” Halting suddenly, her gaze rested on a man across the street. Sitting on a bench outside an auto shop, with one leg crossed over the other, he held a book in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. A baseball cap pulled low didn’t obscure his face, nor deter her intense, visceral reaction to him. When someone came out of the building to talk to him, the man put his cup down and removed his cap, running one of his hands through silver-streaked dark blond hair that glinted attractively in the midday sun.

“‘Yum’, indeed,” Amy concurred in her ear. “Are you done ogling the man candy? I get it if you’re not. He is hot, but I am starving.”

“What? I wasn’t—” The lift in her best friend’s eyebrow signaled to her she wasn’t buying the denial, so she stopped. When had a man, including her own husband, caused such a primal reaction in her? Giving her friend credit, she agreed he was very attractive, but some intangible quality about him intrigued her even more.

“I’m guessing divorce doesn’t seem so bad after all, does it?” Amy commented lightly, and Charlotte gave an unsure laugh.

After the women placed their orders at the counter, Charlotte used the restroom before joining Amy at a table, where her friend wore a devilish grin. “Lottie, do you believe in fate?”

Uneasiness spiked in her. “Um…why?” When Amy started talking about anything paranormal or extraordinary, Charlotte proceeded with caution.

In a low voice, Amy said, “I just heard our neighbors talking about the English teacher retiring at the high school next year.”

Charlotte glanced over to the table next to them, where two younger men sat. “Okay…so?” Uneasy with her friend’s satisfied smile, Charlotte had absolutely no idea where she was going with the conversation.

“So? This could be it!” Amy grinned.

“How much sugar did you put in that?” Charlotte nodded at the iced mocha in Amy’s hand. “I am going to need you to please speak coherently.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Amy clarified, “This could be your chance to shake things up! Like that Reba song, ‘Is There Life Out There?’ Take a chance, make a move, start fresh.”

Charlotte shook her head, “Not exactly sure that’s how the song goes, Ames.” Though not entirely willing to follow her friend’s line of thinking, she was slightly intrigued but played ignorant. “Still not getting where this is going.”

Amy grumbled, “It’s about you. How many times have you complained about living in Sioux City? How many times have you told me you wished for something better? Something different?” Okay, so her best friend was going there. Amy reached over to take one of Charlotte’s hands. “Just between you and me right now, be completely honest. Even if you don’t admit it to me, at least be honest with yourself.” Without giving Charlotte a chance to respond, Amy rushed on, “We both know that if you hadn’t gotten pregnant with Isobel, you wouldn’t have married Brady, right? I mean, you just admitted to me in the car that you were going to break up with him. Which I already knew, by the way. Like you could keep that from your best friend. Please…”

Closing her eyes, Charlotte held Amy’s words in her mind. She’d pondered these questions herself throughout the years, and a sense of betrayal always immediately followed. She had never envisioned staying in Iowa, let alone living in Sioux City for the rest of her life. One year at the University of Iowa, maybe two, before she transferred out of state somewhere, destination unknown. When she was eighteen, that had been her plan. Unsure of anything else in her senior year, Charlotte’s dreams had been considerable—paleontologist, art historian, actress—that was the point of youth. In the end, when she had finally attended college, she had chosen a “sensible” career: English teacher, and though it may not have been her dream, she had treasured it for almost twenty-five years. And she couldn’t imagine a world in which her daughter didn’t exist, since Isobel was her greatest blessing. Emotions running high, she admitted, “I hate even thinking that way now. It makes me feel like I regret having Isobel.”

“Lottie, no one is saying that. But right now, you are entirely free: Issy is grown, with her own life. Brady has moved on.” Amy’s eyes held hers. “You guys sold your house, and you need to move anyway, right? Why not here?”

Was her best friend insane? Charlotte looked around dramatically to prove her point. “So, just pick up and move to the middle of nowhere? Hours away from you, from my daughter…from my home?”

“Listen, you could use some separation from your kid so you stop using her as a crutch. Besides, with my schedule, it’s not like we see each other every day, anyway. Plus, this isn’t that far from Sioux City, only a smidge over two hours!”

“You can’t be serious. I know absolutely no one here,” she protested.

“And? Look how nice everyone has been so far!”

“You mean the barista, who is paid to make our drinks and take our orders?”

Amy wiggled her eyebrows. “Your first friend could be that sexy man from across the street.”

“God, Amy, you are incorrigible.” Charlotte shook her head, even as she tingled thinking about him.

Amy abruptly turned to the table next to theirs. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry for interrupting, but you two seem nice. Can I introduce my friend and myself?” Charlotte rolled her eyes.”I’m Amy Scully, and this is Charlotte Berg.”

“Scully, huh? Love the name! Huge X-Files fan here.” One of the men, with gleaming black hair twined into two braids, remarked to Amy. “I’m Adam Flying Eagle, and this is my partner, Paul Jacobsen.” The men, about two decades younger, stood up to shake hands with Amy and Charlotte. Where Adam was darkly handsome, Paul, with his bright red hair, had the look of someone who used liberal amounts of sunscreen on his fair skin in order to avoid being burned to a crisp.

“Nice to meet you.” With a warm smile, Charlotte held out her hand to them. “Forgive my friend—she’s had a lot of coffee.”

“In my line of work, I run on coffee.” Dark brown eyes glittering with pride, Adam explained, “I’m the deputy sheriff,” just as Charlotte noticed the star on his chest.

Paul informed them, “And he has been for five years now.”

“So you guys live in Beverley?” Amy swirled her iced coffee before pouring in extra sugar.

Paul, whose pale hand held Adam’s swarthier one, nodded proudly. “Best place to live in South Dakota. Where are you ladies from, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Iowa,” Charlotte answered. “We are Deadwood-bound for the weekend, but couldn’t resist stopping here for lunch.”

Amy nodded. “We’re celebrating. Charlotte just got divorced. She also turned fifty and now needs a new direction.”

“Kill me now,” Charlotte muttered to herself, then declared more loudly, “Amy, these men did not ask for my life story.”

“We absolutely did!” Adam assured her, then with a glance at his watch, announced, “Unfortunately, I need to get back to work and make sure the streets of Beverley stay safe.” After giving Paul a tender kiss, he addressed Amy and Charlotte, “Pleasure meeting you both, and I hope I’ll see you again.”

“Don’t forget we have drinks tonight with Josh and Liam,” Paul called to his retreating back.

“So, Paul, I couldn’t help but overhear you earlier about a teacher retiring…?” Amy inquired.

Charlotte shook her head at her friend’s audacity—not only eavesdropping, but then admitting to a stranger about it? Typical Amy, though, no fear, which was why she loved her so much. “Again, please excuse her. We’ve been driving all morning, so she is desperate to hear someone other than me talking,” she laughed.

“To answer your question, yes, one of our English teachers is retiring. Since he’s on the school board, Adam was asking me about the applications we’ve received for the position.” Paul slapped his hand to his forehead. “I’m the vice principal at Beverley High School, which is what I should have led with.”

Amy clapped her hands. “What a coincidence! Charlotte teaches sophomore English in Sioux City.”

“Oh my god, Amy!” Charlotte was unable to contain her frustration with her overly exuberant friend. “I can speak for myself, Paul, believe it or not. Amy’s always had a problem dialing down her…shall we say…excitability, since we were kids.”

Paul nodded. “I have no doubt you can hold your own. Although I am not into women, I am into women who are strong and opinionated.” He paused, and they chuckled. “Is your curiosity about the teaching position part of the new direction you’re seeking?”

Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not⁠—”

Amy cut her off. “Don’t you think she would love it here?”

“I can only speak for myself, but I moved here after I met Adam, five years ago. We were both vacationing in Barcelona and bumped into each other while touring a chocolate factory. We were each with a group of friends, but spent the remaining four days eating tapas and checking out Gaudi masterpieces together. I’m originally from Maine but moved here knowing only Adam, and have never regretted it. Beverley is fantastic.”

Later that afternoon, with Paul’s contact information in her phone, possibilities, hopes, and dreams cautiously buzzed around in Charlotte’s head. Growing up, with an adventurous streak a mile wide, she’d been willing to take chances. Wasn’t that how she had ended up pregnant during her senior year in the first place? But what about her life in Sioux City? What about Amy? What about Isobel? She posed these questions to Amy as they entered the Black Hills.

“Lottie, you’ll always have me,” Amy assured her. “And you know how I love to road trip! Issy and I can come together for visits, or I can come alone, or bring some other friends. I just…I feel like you’ve spent your entire adult life swallowed up, being a mom and wife.” Easy for Amy to say, Charlotte thought. Though she had been married and divorced twice, she had remained childless by choice. “You need to figure out who Charlotte is.”

While pulling handles and placing bets in Deadwood that first night, their conversations centered around the logistics of Charlotte moving, with a multitude of ‘what-ifs’. Dancing in Saloon No. 10 the next evening to a cover band playing “Brown-Eyed Girl”, Charlotte yelled over the music, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to apply.” Amy squealed in response.

On the drive home, she admitted, “I think I am ready for a change.” Detouring through Beverley made up Charlotte’s mind, and even though she didn’t see the handsome man again, she braced herself for the future.

At Check Care Auto, the hood of the vintage Thunderbird slammed down unexpectedly, nearly sacrificing the fingers of Henry Livingston’s left hand. Simultaneously, he shook his head at his inattention and cursed his ex-wife. Letting out a long sigh of relief that all his digits remained attached, he wondered why she was calling him…again? Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? Certain Melanie wanted to discuss their son…the son she abandoned when Josh was only twelve…made him more inclined to avoid speaking with her at all.

“Need anything else, boss?” Chuck, his most detail-oriented employee, startled him.

“No.” As Chuck ducked out the open bay door, Henry called, “Hey, thanks for finishing up that utility van. I’ll call April and tell her it’s done.”

“No need to, boss. I already took care of it.” Henry shot him a startled look, because the man despised making phone calls to customers. Then he remembered how Chuck insisted on checking every detail of the van after he replaced the brake pads. Chuck cast his eyes away as his cheeks turned red. “I figured she would need her vehicle for deliveries after work. I’m going to pull it out to the street and drop the keys off with her.” Quiet and reserved, April owned the flower shop next door and had remained single after the death of her husband a few years ago.

“Okay, then.” He gave the other man a knowing look. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Chuck didn’t suppress a grin as he got behind the wheel of the car.

His phone rang, and he groaned. Melanie again. Ignoring it, he thought of his son, who possessed so much more courage than Henry, and begrudgingly, he knew his ex was partially responsible for that, as she had been full of boldness and bravery, even if lacking devotion and commitment. Major events during the past year had turned Josh’s life upside down. First was when his fiancée, Tess, left him the night before their wedding. A few months later, Josh discovered the reason Tess cancelled their nuptials was because she had fallen in love with his best friend from college, Sam. Immediately following that, the surgical fellowship he’d been certain was his had gone to his colleague. Finally, as his life unraveled, a near-fatal mistake made during a routine surgery required him to take a leave of absence from a prestigious hospital in Manhattan. After everything imploded, Josh came home to South Dakota, eventually working beside him at the auto shop. It was there that his son met Effie, the woman who had helped him find not only clarity but belief in himself and his life. All heartache was behind him now, because a few weeks ago, Josh had made his break from New York City official. While moving forward with his relationship with Effie, he was now finishing his surgical residency at Beverly General Hospital, which thrilled Henry.

On the other hand, since Josh moved in with Effie, Henry’s own life returned to a day-to-day slog which never seemed to vary. While his son lived with him these past months, his insular existence vanished. He finally had someone on the other side of the breakfast table every morning. Dinner was no longer for one, but two. And while Josh may have inherited Henry’s more quiet and reserved personality traits, his voice was enough to pierce the silence that usually pervaded the house. He supposed he would be back to that again, because even though Effie’s house was just around the block from Henry’s, a visit from his son wouldn’t be the same as Josh living with him.

In his office, Henry brewed a pot of his newest coffee blend, a dark French roast; as the aroma filled the air, he put on his reading glasses, which he was still getting used to wearing. One of the joys of getting older, he thought to himself. Unfortunately, the glasses meant he could now read his ex-wife’s name more clearly when his phone rang again, to his chagrin. Of course, he’d repeatedly tried blocking Melanie, until guilt inevitably infiltrated his conscience. Should he answer? He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t—she’d call again either way.

Tired of avoiding her, he answered her call, putting her on speakerphone to distance himself from her. “What is it?”

“My word, Henry, I thought you would be a bit more receptive to me, especially considering everything that has happened.” Just like Melanie to play mind games at the end of his workday. God forbid he should be able to do some paperwork in peace and enjoy his drink while it was still steaming.

Gruffly, he responded, “What do you want? I’m working.” Henry, exasperated, released a disgruntled sigh. “Even though you think being a mechanic is reprehensible and demeaning, I do have things to accomplish.” One of her many complaints before she left him and their son had been his profession. Back then, he had worked for his dad at the family auto shop in his hometown of Clover Lake, population less than one thousand. After her desertion, however, needing a new start for not only himself but especially Josh, Henry had moved them to Beverley, a larger town of about fifteen thousand, forty miles away. There, at an estate auction, he had purchased an old auto garage that had sat empty for several years. In honor of his grandfather, Henry named his shop Check Care Auto, inverting two of the words from Check Auto Care. From almost the ground up, Henry built his own business, going from servicing cars himself to the crew of six he currently employed. The cacophony of machines, loud voices, and the stereo everyone loved to sing along with starkly differed from what Henry experienced in the months after becoming a single father.

Melanie’s quick intake of breath informed Henry that he had now offended her. That was Melanie—forever the injured party, yet always denying her part in inducing any pain to anyone else. “Henry, how could you say that? I never, not once while we were married, ever said those things to you or about your work.” Henry protested with a snort, and his ex-wife clarified, “Yes, I may have inferred that you were worth of more than manual labor. And yes, that was definitely something I never wanted for our son.” Her sharp tongue sliced him with her next words. “Remember, Henry, you never wanted to be a mechanic, either. When we met, when we talked about our dreams, the only thing you wanted to be was a doctor.”

Unable to argue, Henry ruminated on what he should have been, before all choice had drifted out of reach that summer…the summer he had met her. “Well, I think you and I both know we don’t always get what we want. Then again, sometimes we get things we don’t want, like when I received divorce papers in the mail from you, dated the day after you left us, but mailed a year later from Sioux Falls. Just enough information to mess with my head, but too late to do anything about it.”

After several seconds passed in silence, Melanie said, “Believe it or not, I didn’t call you to argue.” Well, that would certainly be a first. “I was wondering if…if maybe we could…meet up?”

“Meet up? Are you kidding me? Meet up? And where would we do that? May I remind you that I don’t even know where you live…haven’t known for two decades.” Chugging his coffee, Henry hoped burning his throat would wake him from this nightmare. Instead, he choked, and coffee sputtered everywhere.

“Henry? Henry? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Not that you ever really cared,” he hoarsely responded.

“That’s not fair!” Despite the pain she had inflicted, her sultry voice made his gut clench. “I have always cared—it’s the reason I left. I cared too much.” God, this was rich. Now, that was a new one from her.

“Melanie, I hardly think ‘I cared too much’ is a defense when someone abandons their only child. In fact, I’m pretty sure that is the opposite of what the phrase means.”

She sniffed. “Good lord, Henry, I hardly abandoned Joshua. He had you. He had your family. They always seemed to matter more, anyway, every time,” Melanie replied, her voice catching.

Henry closed his eyes, casting his mind back twenty-five years, thirty years, and almost forty years, to the most recurring argument he and Melanie had when they were married. “Melanie, please, I’m too tired for this…too old for this.” Today he was feeling every one of his fifty-six years, and he just wanted to be off the phone. “Could you please get to the point of this phone call? What did you mean when you said that I should be more receptive to you after everything that has happened?”

“Well, I think I am owed some recognition for our son getting his head right and focusing on being a surgeon again. After all, you would’ve been fine having him languish next to you in that shop for who knows how long?”

“How did you know—” he stopped as he realized his own dad had probably been the one to inform Melanie about Josh. Unbeknownst to Henry until a few months ago, his father, William, had been in touch with Melanie sporadically throughout the years after she had left.

Melanie continued in the superior tone she had mastered years ago, “I’m not thrilled he’s moving back to South Dakota, mind you, not after building a life in New York City. I mean, he could have been the chief of surgery at one of the country’s biggest hospitals. You know he was meant for more, Henry.” One of the few things he and his ex were in agreement about: their brilliant son was destined for greatness, but for Henry, Josh being satisfied with his life was all the greatness he expected, unlike his ex-wife.

“Can’t you just be happy he’s on track again? He was never going to work in the shop with me forever; we both knew that.”

To his surprise, she agreed. “Okay…you’re right. Now, can you please just think about meeting with me? It’s important I see you, Henry, face-to-face.” Henry heard her draw in another raspy breath. “I’ll even come to Beverley.”

Absolutely not, Henry thought. Long-buried feelings for her aside, he couldn’t think of one good reason for her suggestion, other than to cause strife. Torturing him with agonizing phone calls wasn’t enough anymore, evidently. “If this is about getting back in our son’s life, you are on your own. Other than that, I don’t see any good reason for us to be in contact anymore.” His phone beeped with an incoming call from his brother. Great, now he had an excuse to get off the phone. “If that’s it, I have to go.” Despite her pleading not to, he hung up to take his older brother’s call.

“Hey, George. You’ll never guess who just called⁠—”

“I don’t have to, since I was standing next to Dad when the Ice Queen called him first. I don’t know what’s wrong with our old man. Says he’s always had a soft spot for her.” Melanie had gravitated to his dad, William, from the minute she and Henry had arrived in Clover Lake almost forty years ago. “Anyway, I figured, as usual, she’d call to mess with your head.”

“Right as always. I don’t hear from her in practically two decades, but now, over the past few months, she suddenly needs to talk to me? Makes me think about getting a new phone.”

“Nah, don’t do that. Just block her.” Easy for his brother to say, since he’s never been in Henry’s shoes. “So, are you leaving your shop soon?”

George, who had bought the shop in Clover Lake from their dad over a decade ago, closed at the same time as Henry but routinely left earlier, mainly because William still did most of the office work. “Yes, I was closing everything down when Mellie called.”

“Mellie, huh?” George’s tone was worried, and Henry cursed himself. “I haven’t heard you call her that in years. Do I need to be worried?”

Henry protested, “No, not even a little bit! It just slipped out,” he assured George. “You actually won’t believe what she wanted.”

“More than likely to cause her brand of turmoil, but don’t tell me over the phone. Just get your ass to Huron and fill me in then.” Huron? What was his brother talking about? All Henry planned to do tonight was grab some takeout from La Hacienda, go home, and watch Jeopardy. Maybe start on his new project in his woodworking shop. “Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Ugh, Henry groaned, realizing that the State Fair had started a couple of days ago and remembering that George had gotten them tickets to the John Fogerty concert the minute they had gone on sale months ago. Was that tonight? “Listen, I don’t think⁠—”

“Bullshit. I mean, you’re right, you don’t think, especially if that involves you having any kind of fun,” his brother chided. “You were excited when I got these tickets.” Right, but that was before a frustrating call with his ex topped off an exhausting week at the shop. “Come on, Henry,” George implored. “You don’t work tomorrow, unless you’ve decided that working seven days a week is the key to a better life. Come out, let your hair down, have some fun.” His brother sang a few lines from “Bad Moon Rising” terribly off-key.

Knowing George wouldn’t let up until he agreed, Henry said, “I need to run home and clean up first.”

“Please. You’re not only the better-looking brother but also the cleaner one. You have ten minutes, then your ass better be in Huron in an hour, which will leave us enough time for the beer garden before the show starts.” With that timeline, Henry actually had fifteen minutes, since Huron was only about half an hour’s drive from Beverley. Parking would be the question once he got to the fairgrounds, but Henry could use a good walk, maybe work off his annoyance with Melanie.

Forty minutes later, he was strolling up to the beer garden outside the grandstand and carrying a foot-long corn dog when two beefy hands grabbed his shoulders. “Dammit, George, you almost made me drop my supper!”

After looping an arm around his shoulders, his brother laughed and bit off a decent-sized chunk of the corn dog. “Well, lucky for both of us that didn’t happen.” He lowered his voice. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you-”

“Hi, Henry,” Nora, George’s wife, called from the chislic stand several feet away. Chislic, bite-sized pieces of meat (Henry was sure it was lamb, for Nora) fried and then sprinkled liberally with garlic salt, was the state food of South Dakota and his sister-in-law’s favorite. Her auburn hair caught the light from the fading sun, and he waved to her.

“Hey, Nora—” He stopped when he noticed who stood next to her. He faced his brother. “What is DD doing here?”

“Well, that’s what I was trying to tell you⁠—”

“When? When were you trying to tell me? Because it sure as hell wasn’t on the phone earlier.” It was bad enough that DD’s daughter and his son were in love and would more than likely be married one day. Well, that wasn’t bad, he corrected himself, because Henry loved Effie. Loving and compassionate, she was everything her mother was not. That wasn’t fair either, Henry supposed, even if DD did have the honor of being the first woman to break his heart. Still, she certainly hadn’t been the last (or the worst). Searching for DD’s husband and not finding him in the general area, it dawned on Henry that he hadn’t seen the man in over a year, when he’d brought their Mustang to his shop for a maintenance check. “Where’s Burnside?”

“I don’t know,” George shrugged. “Nora said something about him needing to rest. I guess the old man has been having some health issues.” Burnside, DD’s second husband, was at least a decade older and originally from Ohio. Though he’d lived in South Dakota for over twenty years, after marrying DD, the man had done little to fit in with her world. “Anyway, do you remember I got us a VIP table down front? It seats six?” Okay, it was coming back to Henry now—his brother and Nora, his sister Beatrice and her husband Brian, and Henry and…no one, as usual. He raised an eyebrow at George, who explained, “I thought Josh or Liam would take the last seat, but your son is too busy moving in with Effie, I guess. And my son is all torn up over some woman he met in New York.” Henry nodded. When Josh had recently returned to New York to tie up the loose ends of his life and career there, Liam had accompanied him. According to what Josh told him, he and Liam were supposed to go out for drinks one night in the city, but Josh got hung up in Brooklyn with Tess and Sam. Instead of meeting up with his cousin, Liam met a woman at the bar, and despite knowing nothing about her (including her name), he spent the night with her. And fell hard. Henry knew all too well how a woman could change the course of one’s life. George shrugged. “Anyway, DD is all upset about Burnside, understandably so, and Nora invited her to join us. I’m sorry. I would’ve told you sooner, but I only found out about her coming along tonight after I talked to you. You know how Nora is about her best friend.” And Henry knew how George was about his wife—he never refused her anything. “She made me pick up DD on the way.”

Shaking his head, Henry assured George, “It’s fine. I’ll let you buy me a drink to make up for it,” he said, trying to assure them both that he was, indeed, fine. But he wasn’t, not by a long shot. The brothers met up with the women at the entrance to the beer garden, and before entering, an inexplicable sensation coursed through him. He glanced up at the Ferris wheel, watching it slowly spin, and a woman in one of the buckets caught his eye. With hair a lustrous dark brown, there was something familiar about her, and even though he couldn’t quite make out her features, he gasped as if punched in the gut. Forgetting DD, erasing his earlier conversation with Melanie, his hungry gaze locked with hers.

“Henry?” George’s voice forced Henry’s eyes back to his brother. “You ready to head in?” He wasn’t, but when his eyes searched the Ferris wheel, she was gone.

Standing in line for the Ferris wheel at the South Dakota State Fair, Amy fanned herself. “Lottie, how long has it been since we’ve been to a state fair?” It was Labor Day weekend, and Amy and Isobel, both nurses at the same Sioux City hospital, had surprised her with tickets to the John Fogerty concert tonight.

Charlotte shrugged, wiping the sweat from her brow with a tissue from her pocket. The temperature had reached almost ninety degrees, but she welcomed the heat. “Isobel, how old were you the last time we took you to the Iowa State Fair?” Charlotte asked her daughter, who was sipping freshly squeezed lemonade next to Amy, troubled that she couldn’t remember immediately. Of course, considering the fact that Charlotte was still adjusting to the recent upheaval in her life, a lapse in memory wasn’t too shocking.

Isobel, switching out her lemonade for a caramel apple, said, “I went every year with my friends in high school, but the last time we went as a family I was fourteen, I think. Remember how Dad loved to play those games?” Their marriage may not have been a love affair for the ages, but her ex had always excelled at being a father.

A month had passed since Amy and Isobel had helped her move into her charming rental house in Beverley, and Charlotte was still acclimating to the town. Along with Mr. Beans, the Beverley Carnegie Library and Beverley Bake Shop had become familiar haunts. She’d actually met Ashley, the bakery owner, at the library, where they’d bonded over their love of Judith McNaught’s historical romances. With each trip to downtown Beverley, a tiny spark of hope bloomed in her chest that she might see the man from outside the auto shop again, but she hadn’t been lucky so far. She was, however, ridiculous, remaining on the lookout for a man who had no idea she even existed.

Amy nudged Charlotte, “Remember when we were teenagers at the fair? Strolling around, looking for hot guys?” Lowering her voice, Amy asked in an exaggerated whisper, “Speaking of hot guys, have you had any luck finding the stud on the bench?” Flushing, Charlotte shot her friend a warning look. “What?” Amy flashed her a look of wide-eyed innocence.

“What’s this about a hot guy, Mom?”

Great, Charlotte thought, just what she needed—her daughter finding out she had a crush on some nameless, random man she’d seen only once in her life. Trying to maintain some of her composure, Charlotte shook her head. “It’s nothing…he’s nothing.” He wasn’t, though, not considering how she’d thought of him on an almost daily basis for the last several months.

“Aww, come on, Mom, please tell me if you’re interested in someone,” her daughter begged.

Amy linked her arm through Isobel’s. “Well, dear child, the first time we were in Beverley, we saw a man across the street from the coffee shop.”

“You mean that auto shop on the other side of the street?”

“The one and only,” Amy confirmed, grinning.

“Ooh, I’ve seen a few good-looking guys going in and out of that place.”

“Mmm, this one was super fine…had on this baseball cap…now, I’ve never known your mom to go for that look, but on him…”

Isobel grinned. “Mom, is this true?” Charlotte stayed silent, unsure whether she should deny or confirm it. “Mom,” Isobel, several inches taller, threw an arm around her shoulders, “it’s okay to be attracted to someone else. In fact, I think it’s impressive.”

“Okay, can we please move on?” Charlotte shook her head. “For one thing, I haven’t seen him again, and for another, I have no idea where to even find him.”

Amy announced, “Well, I wouldn’t mind finding a hot guy now, to be honest,” pouring some water from her bottle down the front of her chest, under her blouse, instantly making the outline of her bra visible.

Charlotte shook her head. “Subtle, Ames, really subtle.”

Amy widened her eyes in an expression of innocence—or as close as she could get, anyway. “What? It’s freaking hot out. Calm down. Not like I’m looking for husband number three. I told you I am resigned to living life as a single woman from now on.” Fanning herself, she continued, “What is with the lack of trees at a fair, anyway? Got us standing out here with the sun blazing down on us, baking while we wait to ride this thing. I tell you what, I’ll be ready for a little beer garden action before the show. What about you, Issy?”

“I could go for a tall one right about now.” Isobel elbowed Charlotte. “Mom, you down for some beer garden action after this?” Would she ever get used to drinking alcohol with her daughter? Since Isobel was thirty-two, she’d been legally able to drink for over ten years, but it was still difficult at times seeing her only child as an adult. “Actually, maybe I’ll meander over there now and get us a table. I see a bunch of people heading in.”

“But what about riding with us?” Charlotte was slightly disappointed that she wouldn’t share this moment with her daughter.

“Mom, only two people fit in the car, anyway.” Isobel leaned down to hug her. “You two go now, and after the concert, you and I can ride. Remember how we used to do that when I was a kid? It was so cool being on the rides at night, when the fairway was all lit up.” Times like these, when Isobel spoke fondly of her childhood with happy memories, made Charlotte glad that she and Brady had stayed together as long as they had, living with the quiet acceptance of having made a choice as teenagers.

Charlotte tucked a strand of hair behind Isobel’s ear. “I love you, my baby girl.”

Isobel whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Mom. Love you, too.” Watching her daughter walk away, Charlotte swiped the moisture from her eyes. “If she’s the only thing I ever get right in life, I will die happy.”

“Good lord—you’re only fifty! We’re just beginning the height of our sexual peaks, and you have a lot of living to do.” As the wheel came to a stop, they handed their tickets to the carnival worker, who secured the door after they sat down. “Speaking of sexual peaks, now that the kid is gone, be honest with me: how is life in Beverley so far?”

Charlotte flushed, as she did every time she thought of the man on the bench. “I’ve been so busy getting settled into my house and starting school that I’ve barely had time to think about anything else.” She’d only lived in Beverley for two weeks before beginning her new position as Beverley High School’s new English teacher. After teaching language arts to freshmen for twenty years, her curriculum had expanded with the juniors she now taught.

“Just remember to keep your options open. Don’t be all business and no play.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at Amy’s advice. “Seriously, I know you need to focus on yourself, so I’m mostly kidding about finding that guy again. But he was so nice on the eyes. And he was reading, Lottie! Reading! It’s almost like it was meant to be, so I’m just saying don’t be closed off to the idea of meeting someone.”

“This coming from the woman who just swore off men? You are so ridiculous, Ames. For one thing, I don’t even know if he’s married or single or…would even be interested,” Charlotte protested.

“I didn’t swear off men, just marriage! And I don’t know why you are always so down on yourself. Where’s that bodacious babe I’ve known all my life? The one who took charge of every situation, who was going to set the world on fire? Instead, you allowed yourself to become invisible.”

Charlotte couldn’t argue with her friend. “Listen, I know. And being more…out there, I guess you could call it…is something I vowed to do when I moved. What’s the point of changing my life unless I embrace it? On that topic, I have gotten friendly with most of the staff at the high school, and even made a couple of new friends in the outside world. One of whom is a librarian at the public library. She has the most interesting name,” Charlotte remarked to Amy, “Effie. She hasn’t lived in Beverley long, either, and we’re going to have dinner some night next week.”

“Oh, nice. Better not think of replacing me as your bestie, though, I’m warning you. We might live in different states now, but you can’t get rid of me!” Chuckling at her friend’s words, Charlotte considered the nights she’d spent alone since uprooting her life, learning to live in the solitude, stopping herself before calling Amy or Isobel. Part of her was finding it easier than she’d thought to live alone, but another part couldn’t help but listen for sounds of life from someone other than herself.

As their bucket descended, a man came into view—or the back of his head did, anyway. Wearing a ball cap with blond fringe peeking from under the fastener, when he fully turned around, her breath quickened. She’d questioned if she would recognize him should she see him again, after so many months. How wrong she had been, she thought, as her heart beat erratically in her chest and blood rushed to her head. Staring openly, she willed him to look her way, to let her catch his eye. And then it happened. Blocking out everything around her, heat flooded her cheeks, her chest, everywhere, as his eyes then locked with hers. To her disappointment, he turned away too soon, speaking to the man next to him. Drifting away from him, rising as the wheel circled, she moaned in dismay.

“Lottie? Lottie?” Amy snapped her fingers, breaking her out of her spell.

“Sorry…what?” Should she admit she had spotted him? If she did, Amy would certainly want to track him down, and she didn’t necessarily need her best friend and daughter as an audience if she encountered him.

Amy teased, “Thinking about him again, huh?” You could say that, Charlotte thought, but remained silent. “I agree, he’s worth daydreaming about.” Yes, he was. “Anyway,” Amy continued, “I was asking if you want to get a corn dog before we go to the beer garden?”

“Sure,” Charlotte replied distractedly, “I’ll text Isobel and see if she wants one.” Their ride concluded, she hopped from their bucket, sweeping a glance around the area, but he was nowhere in sight. Sighing softly, she followed Amy to the nearest corn dog truck.

Armed with three gigantic corn dogs, Amy and Charlotte dodged the crowd in the beer garden, looking for Isobel. Amy nodded to a door that led to the back, and they found her sitting at a picnic table talking to a man around her daughter’s age, maybe a couple of years older. “I see Issy isn’t wasting any time,” Amy observed. “Though I doubt the poor man will get very far.” Charlotte nodded in agreement. Isobel, always reticent with men and relationships, was career-oriented, with many goals she wanted to accomplish before she met “the right one”. Charlotte supposed that having her parents marry a month after graduating from high school was not the love story she had wanted for herself. Join the club, kid.

Isobel smiled warily as they approached. “Mom, Amy, meet Boyd.” He stood, tipping his head at the women while touching the brim of his cowboy hat. “He was just telling me that he owns a grocery store in…was it Clover Lake you said?”

Boyd nodded. “Pleasure meeting you all. I’ll leave you ladies to it. Isobel, I’ll look for you inside?”

Charlotte watched her daughter’s cheeks turn pink as she nodded unenthusiastically. “Here,” Charlotte told her as she handed her a corn dog with ketchup drizzled on the outside. Charlotte bit into hers, her teeth crunching on the salty-sweet coating, and she closed her eyes in bliss. Nothing was better at the fair than a freshly fried corn dog, in her opinion.

“So who was the dude?” Amy inquired.

“Oh, he sat down without waiting for an invitation. I mean…who does that? What if I wanted to be alone? He was nice enough, I guess, but he kind of had a general ‘ick’, if you know what I mean?” Isobel said.

“Yeah, like both of my husbands,” Amy agreed. “Best to avoid the ‘ick’ at all costs. Otherwise, you might need a prescription for penicillin.” Finished eating, Amy said, “I think we need some drinks to wash these down.”

“Sorry, I had a beer when I first got here,” Isobel motioned to the empty bottle in front of her, “and was planning on having some ready for you, but then Boyd showed up. I didn’t want him to, like, think we were going to drink together.”

“No problem,” Amy told her, “I’ll run up to the bar and get us some.”

“No, you stay here. Drinks are on me, since you paid for the tickets tonight,” Charlotte insisted.

“Well, keep them comin’, mama, because I’m thirsty, and the tickets weren’t cheap,” Amy laughed.

Chuckling as she made her way through the crowd that had amassed since they had arrived, “Proud Mary” serenaded her as she nearly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. A hand on her elbow steadied her, and she looked into a grinning female face with shining blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention. Trying to remember everyone’s orders.” The other woman raised her voice above the music and tucked a strand of grey-streaked dark hair behind her ear.

“No, that was absolutely my fault,” Charlotte declared. “You at least have one up on me. I didn’t take any orders, so now I have to guess what my daughter and my friend want!”

“Well, you’re in luck, since your choices are beer, light beer, or beer. My problem is, I’m not sure how I’m going to carry all of mine back to my group. I have two brothers with me, my sister-in-law, and her best friend, who,” the woman conspiratorially confided, “I don’t really care for. Is this TMI?”

Charlotte chuckled. “Not at all. I love gossip, even when I know nothing about anyone involved.”

Fanning herself with her hand, the woman lowered her voice. “Well, I really need to get over my grudge against her. The thing is, she broke my baby brother’s heart years ago, and if you knew him, you’d understand the tragedy.” Before Charlotte could comment, the woman stuck her hand out. “I’m Beatrice, by the way, but you can call me Trixie. All my friends do. We have time to get to know each other. From the looks of this line, we’ll be here for a while.”

“I hope not! We have tickets to the show,” Charlotte informed her. “Nice to meet you, Trixie. I’m Charlotte, but my best friend has always called me Lottie, so I extend that honor to you.”

“Wow, and we only just met. I’m honored,” she said with a small bow. “We’ll be at the concert, too. My older brother got one of those VIP tables this year, so we get to enjoy the show in style. I’m so excited. So, Lottie, where are you from?”

“Originally Sioux City, but I moved to Beverley after my divorce a couple of months ago. Do you know it?”

“Know it? Absolutely love Beverley! My younger brother lives there.” Eyes gleaming, Trixie started, “You know what? I think you would-” but her ringing cell phone cut her off. “Oh, this is my husband. Hello?” Turning her head to give some privacy, a movement across the crowded beer garden caught her eye. Him. Again.

Heart rate rising as the man from the auto shop tilted his head back, laughing at whatever the man next to him said, she fought dizziness as his throat muscles constricted. Drawn to him by an electrical pull, she wondered if she should be bold, just walk over and say “hi”. Maybe pretend to bump into him? Even more outrageously, introduce herself by telling him, “I’ve been looking for you all over town”?

Beside her, Trixie said, “Sorry about that. I guess my party is ready to go to the grandstand. I’ve got to dash, but I’ll look for you at the show, okay?”

As her new friend walked away, Charlotte’s eyes scanned the area, searching for the man, but he was gone. Again. “Mom,” Isobel said, surprising her at her shoulder, “maybe we should just head over to the show and get our drinks there? Aunt Amy said she wants to get a good spot by the stage. Something about bringing a spare bra to toss up to poor Mr. Fogerty.”

“Precisely the reason I got us general admission tickets,” Amy laughed. “We can get close to the stage, even if it requires us to stand for the concert.”

Weaving their way through the crowd, Charlotte, Isobel, and Amy each grabbed a paper boat filled with peanuts in the shell from the table near the exit before they left. “Man, it was crowded in there. I guess everyone wanted to pregame before the show,” Amy stated. “Good thing it’s right next door.”

Before entering the grandstand, Charlotte and Amy ducked into the restroom and were washing their hands when someone said, “Hi, Lottie, fancy meeting you here.” In the mirror’s reflection, Charlotte recognized her new friend standing behind her.

“What? How is someone aside from me calling you Lottie?” Amy joked.

“Trixie! Meet my friend Amy, who’s visiting me from Iowa. I need to add, before she does, that she is not just my best friend, but also my oldest friend.”

“Nice to meet you, Amy. I’m glad I ran into you again, Lottie. Let me give you my cell number, and we can have lunch or something the next time I’m in Beverley. Or do you know where Clover Lake is?” Charlotte and Amy chuckled in unison. “What?”

“I don’t, but my daughter got hit on in the beer garden by someone from Clover Lake, said he owns a grocery store?”

Trixie laughed. “Oh, no, Boyd Timmons? First of all, his dad is the owner of the store, not Boyd. And, second, tell her to steer clear of him! That guy has been nothing but trouble since the day he was born. He’s just like his father. Preys on women who should be too smart for his tricks.”

They were trading information when two women walked up. “Oh, hey, Nora and DD, meet Lottie and Amy. Lottie is a recent transplant to, believe it or not, Beverley. Lottie, Nora is married to my older brother,” Charlotte smiled warmly at Nora, who was a couple of inches taller than herself, with gleaming chestnut-colored hair and gorgeous light gray eyes. “And this is DD, Nora’s best friend.” Taller than average for a woman, DD was striking, with haunting brown eyes and light brown hair streaked with golden highlights. “We all grew up together in Clover Lake.”

“My name is Diadema, actually,” DD stiffly corrected Trixie.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Charlotte said, taken aback by the annoyed look on Diadema’s face.

“Nice to meet you.” Nora shook her hand before asking Trixie, “Are you ready? George has food being delivered to our table.”

“But we just ate all that chislic,” Trixie protested.

“Try telling him that. You know your brothers are bottomless pits.” Nora looked at Amy and Charlotte. “Do you two have seats tonight?”

Amy replied, “No, we’re standing.” She winked, “I plan to be close enough to the stage to get a convincing selfie with Mr. Fogerty.” Everyone except Diadema laughed.

Walking out in one big group, Amy and Charlotte stopped where Isobel stood waiting for them. “This is my daughter, Isobel.” The women greeted Isobel warmly, even Diadema, to her amazement.

“Hi,” Isobel responded, “nice to meet all of you.”

Charlotte addressed the other women, “Well, have fun tonight. Maybe we’ll see you during the show, but I have your number, Trixie, and I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, please do!”

After they had gotten bottles of beer and wristbands, Charlotte, Amy, and Isobel stood on the line to enter the general admission area. “So, where are your new friends sitting?” Amy inquired.

“Oh, she said the VIP area, which I guess is over there.” Charlotte pointed to a fenced-in section with tables. “I think I see Trixie over there, in that group that’s standing.”

“Mmm, yep, I think that’s her,” Amy agreed.

Suddenly, the house lights dimmed as the opening act was announced, but the VIP section remained illuminated enough for Charlotte to see the table where Trixie, flanked by two men, had just sat down. She inhaled sharply before she could stop herself. The man sitting to Trixie’s right angled his head, and thanks to the lights from the stage, she recognized him. The man from the auto shop. Again.

“Lottie, what’s wrong?”

“It’s him.” Her joy at spotting him faded, however, as she watched the woman she had met earlier, Diadema, say something in his ear. Deflated, she followed Isobel through their entrance, willing herself not to look behind her for one more glimpse of him. Three couples surrounding the table made it clear that he was not available. Just her luck.

Almost Forty Years Ago

In a country field on the night of his high school graduation, Henry stared at his best friends, flabbergasted by the bombshells they had just dropped at the keg party celebrating the thirty-one members of the senior class. “Sorry, dude.” Kyle stepped up to the keg of beer. “They told me I didn’t have enough work experience. Bullshit, I know, since I’ve spent all my life working on our farm. I guess cleaning pig stalls counts for less out in Arizona.” Kyle shrugged, passing Henry a foamy cup of beer.

“Arizona?” Steve whistled. “I thought the Grand Canyon was in Colorado.” Although a hell of a football player, geography wasn’t in Steve’s wheelhouse—he had trouble finding even South Dakota on a map. “At least you got a reason,” Steve scowled at Kyle. “I just never heard back from them.”

“How long have you guys known about this? I thought we were all going together?”

Steve drank from the bottle of Boone’s Farm he’d brought. “Look, man, we didn’t want to upset you.”

“The truth is, we thought you would just end up working at your dad’s shop.” Kyle’s eyes wouldn’t meet his. “We didn’t think you were serious.”

Annoyed, Henry shook his blond head. He’d never been more serious, because there was no way he was spending another summer getting oil under his nails. College would be his chance to break away from the family’s auto shop, finally, and a grand adventure like working at the Grand Canyon for the summer with his best friends was the start of that. His older brother was content to toil at the shop, but Henry’s destiny was far greater. After graduating as the class valedictorian from Clover Lake High School with the highest GPA, Henry would be pre-med at the University of South Dakota in the upcoming fall.

How could Kyle and Steve be so dense? Over and over, Henry had reiterated how he couldn’t wait to get out of Clover Lake, and they had both agreed. Hoping that maybe they’d just gotten cold feet at the thought of striking out on their own for the summer, he tried convincing them. “Guys, come on, I’m sure there will be something there for you. Half of the kids hired will probably bail. Then they’ll need others to fill those positions.” He needed his best friends there. He’d never been good at meeting people, but they were social butterflies, easing his anxiety when things got too overwhelming.

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t.” Kyle tossed his empty cup behind him. “My dad told me I have to help on the farm this summer, since his hired hand quit last month.” It was common knowledge that Kyle’s dad, who’d never employed the same hired hand for longer than a year, had been upset when Kyle announced he was going to college in Brookings in the fall, instead of working one more year on the family farm. Henry wondered if Kyle would make it off the farm now at all. But what did Kyle mean when he said even if he wanted to? They had all wanted to, or so he thought.

“Okay,” Henry responded. “Steve, what about you? Maybe they just got mixed up with the notifications.” A look passed from Steve to Kyle, and Henry’s stomach sank, as did any hope of traveling to the Grand Canyon with either one of them.

“Sorry, dude.” Steve repeated Kyle’s earlier words. “I’m going to work with Kyle this summer on the farm.”

“What? You hate animals,” Henry pointed out, “and you don’t even live in the country!” Some summer this was turning out to be, over before it had even started. His best friends apparently still planned on working together, just not in the Grand Canyon, and not with him. Henry would have doubted his friends had actually applied for the positions at all if the three of them hadn’t filled out their applications at Henry’s dining room table last winter, mailing them together before going to the video store one Friday night. “Guys, we were ditching this place! We all agreed we wanted to see things and do something cool, not stay in this podunk town!”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Clover Lake isn’t that bad, Henry. Stay here! We can go to the pool in the afternoons, before evening chores. Drink beer on the weekends, drive over to Beverley and cruise around, meet some girls.” Defeat stung his eyes, so Henry looked away. Another mistake.

Across the spitting flames of fire burning in a barrel on the edge of the field, she appeared. No surprise that she was there, since her family used to own the property until last year. The Sommers weren’t farmers but landowners and, tired of some family farms not paying their rent thanks to years of poor crops, had sold a majority of their fields to a corporate farm conglomerate. In no rush to plant any crops, the farms sat abandoned, making them the perfect place for the teenagers to party. Wearing a fawn-colored fringed tank top, a brown cowboy hat, and form-fitting Wranglers, DD Sommer tipped her head back, laughing at whatever her best friend, Nora Kinsale, was saying. She held a drink in each hand: a plastic cup filled with what he guessed was keg beer and a bottle of Boone’s in the other. Though he was in the same class as the girls, Henry didn’t run in the same social circles, despite Nora having dated his older brother, George, for four years. For almost his entire life, he’d had a crush on DD, since had entranced him from the moment she sat down next to him in kindergarten. Soft-spoken and more interested in studying than socializing, Henry had secretly pined for Clover Lake’s most popular girl, until his longing became more acute this year. His dream of ever dating her fizzled, however, as Dirk Timmons, the class jerk, flirted with DD on the sidelines of the football field while Henry played trumpet in the Clover Lake High School band. Dirk, whose father owned the grocery store in town, was the king of all sports, with a different girlfriend every season, but he had fixed DD in his sights their senior year. And why wouldn’t he? She was flawless. The couple had been steady since October, until the day tickets to the senior prom went on sale. Then, Henry, forever questioning Dirk’s intelligence, had found DD in tears in the basement of the high school one afternoon before band rehearsal.

“DD? Are you okay?” Worried about the girl with a personality as large as the Black Hills, Henry put his trumpet case down next to her on the floor.

“It’s Dirk. He broke up with me, in front of everyone in chemistry.” Henry had taken chemistry the year before, but Kyle had been in the class and described the event in full detail at lunch. “I just found out that he’s taking Alice to prom,” she wailed. Rivals for years, the feud between Alice Patterson and DD had intensified after Alice earned the coveted head cheerleading spot at the beginning of their senior year. “I can’t go by myself, Henry,” she wailed. “Do you know how humiliating it is for me to not have a date to prom? I was supposed to walk in the Grand March with Dirk…I even had our corsages picked out.” Glistening tears tracked her pink cheeks, and Henry studied her, unsure of what to do. “You probably don’t care about any of this. Too wrapped up in your books and music.” Big brown eyes shimmering in misery, DD tilted her head back to rest against the carpeted wall of the music room.

Henry’s eyes rested on her golden throat, and her elegance made it difficult for him to respond. At last he managed, “DD, it won’t be that bad. Kyle and I are going stag with Steve and his date.” Before he could give it a second thought, he offered, “You could come with us.” Henry allowed himself for the briefest of seconds to imagine walking beside her through the decorated archway the senior class had designed for prom. The theme was “A Night in Paris,” and as part of the prom planning committee, Henry had built a scaled-down replica of the Eiffel Tower.

Tucking a piece of glossy golden-brown hair behind her triple-pierced ear, his fantasy girl looked at him with watery brown eyes. “Do you mean, like, be your date?”

No, never in a million years would Henry ever have insinuated that the glamorous Diadema Sommer date him, son of a mere mechanic. Someday he would be a doctor, though a voice reminded him. Pulling his shoulders back, he rubbed his neck. “Would you want to?” he asked tentatively, drawing in a deep breath. “Would you go to prom with me?” Registering the shock that widened her eyes, his body immediately flushed with embarrassment as she gazed at him under her long, dark lashes. He rushed on, “Obviously, we would go as friends. This wouldn’t have to even be a date.”

Long, slim arms wrapped around his shoulders; her soft breath drifted across his neck. “Oh, Henry, you are so sweet. Thank you.” Before he could return her hug, DD pulled away. Pearly-white teeth glinted as she smiled, and he knew with certainty that anything she wanted, he would give her.

Then came prom night. Naively assuming his dreams had finally come true, Henry arrived at her house to pick her up, only to find DD already gone, having left fifteen minutes ago with Nora and George. Her mom informed him, “She said you knew she was riding with them.” Standing in the doorway, holding the small Eiffel Tower he had carved for DD, he was crushed, after anticipating the joy on her face for the intricate gift. Left with no choice but to leave it with her mom, he cringed as she carelessly tossed it on top of the washing machine. Dejected but not undeterred, Henry headed to the grade school gymnasium, where his date greeted him with a hug. His brother took him aside to apologize, explaining that DD told him she was meeting Henry at the prom, and Henry brushed it aside.

Dancing nearly every slow dance with her, holding her as close as she permitted, made the rest of the evening magnificent. Silently, patiently, he had waited years for her to notice him, and at last she was in his arms. As soon as prom ended, George and Nora left, but DD suggested they attend the post-prom party in the school cafeteria. After winning a set of golf clubs at the auction, he, DD, Kyle, Steve, and Steve’s date drove to the small cafe in Clover Lake for a late-night breakfast. Later, on her doorstep, he almost drowned in her glittery brown eyes. “I really appreciate you being there for me, Henry. You have always been so sweet…so kind.” Her soft lips grazed his cheek briefly before she flew up the stairs to her house, her beautiful face peering at him through the screen door before disappearing inside.

Elated, Henry called her house the next afternoon, but DD wasn’t home, her mom informed him. Or later that night, when he phoned again. The day after that was Monday, and for the first time, he strode into Clover Lake High School with a swagger, knowing everyone had seen her on his arm Saturday night. Sure, they hadn’t taken part in the ceremonial Grand March through the decorated archway, and they hadn’t posed for pictures as a couple in front of the eight-foot tall Eiffel Tower, but she had kissed him! Walking to his locker, ready to ask her out on an official date, he stumbled because there was DD, positively beaming. Chest swelling, he hoped she was thinking as much about their time together as he was, and he started toward her. Until he noticed Dirk Timmons with his arm around her. Dirk, the one who had dumped DD before prom, to take not just another date but her rival instead, causing her to cry. DD hadn’t spared Henry a tender glance in the weeks since, practically ignoring him whenever they crossed paths.

Now, across the flames at the kegger, her eyes latched onto his before he swiveled to his friends.

“Um, dude, don’t look now, but she’s coming your way,” Kyle announced. “Man, what could she want?”

Henry’s stomach sank. Steve nudged him as he finished off the bottle of Boone’s Farm. “Pretty sure I know. I mean, you heard that she and Dirk broke up again, right?”

No, he hadn’t, but an urgent need to escape overwhelmed him. Throwing his drink into the fire, he backed away, his boot heels sinking into the dirt, soft from last night’s rain. “Henry…Henry…” she called, but he kept his eyes forward until he slid into his car, forcing himself to concentrate only on getting the hell out of there.

The following morning, he woke, resolved with his plan to leave and stay as far away from DD as long as he could. On the doorstep of their house stood Henry’s mother, Catherine, waving a handkerchief. “Henry, are you sure you want to do this? You’ll be all alone.”

Shaking his head vehemently, he loaded his duffel bag into the back of his ‘72 Dodge Dart. “Mom, I’m sorry, but I am outta here.”

“But you could stay, work in the shop with your father this summer.” Anything but that, he thought, not having the heart to say as much to his mom.

After bounding back up the steps to the house, Henry kissed her cheek. Wiping her eyes with her apron, Catherine instructed him to call when he stopped to get gas, pressing four twenty-dollar bills into his palm.

“Mom, I have all that graduation money,” he protested.

“Nonsense—save that for college. And here,” she reached behind her to open the screen door, pulling out a small Igloo cooler. “I made you some sandwiches and put some pop and cookies in here, so you don’t have to pay for food.”

Choked up now that the moment had come to leave, he said, “Thanks, Mom, for everything. I love you.” Despite her words asking him to reconsider his trip, Henry had no doubt that his mother supported him.

“I love you, my baby boy.” She held his face in her hands. “I’m so proud of you.” Wait until I’m a doctor, he thought, envisioning her pride in a few years.

“Hey, you’re not getting away without giving me a hug, too!” Flip-flops slapping as she stormed out of the house with a paper bag overflowing with what looked like packages of chips, Trixie placed the bag in his car, then embraced him tightly. “Have fun, okay? And never forget how amazing you are.” His sister had just finished her first year at college, astonishing everyone with her decision to major in accounting, after declaring office jobs insufferable while working in the office of their dad’s shop three summers in a row.

“Thanks, Trix. For everything.” His sounding board after his post-prom let-down, she’d cursed DD for taking advantage of him.

“Don’t spend one more minute thinking about that bitch.”

“Beatrice!” their mom scolded.

“Sorry, Mom.” His sister grinned. “But she is. You’re better than she deserves, you know, and one day you’ll meet someone who appreciates you.”

“Make sure you stop at the shop and see your dad and brother on your way out of town,” Catherine instructed him as he got into his car and started the engine. Waving goodbye to his mom and sister, their figures got smaller in his rear-view mirror as he drove further away from his house.

As he pulled into an open bay at Check Auto Care, George was waiting for him. “Mom called. Could barely understand a word she said, she was sobbing so hard.”

Fora split second, Henry reconsidered leaving Clover Lake, until he looked down at George’s hands, stained under the fingernails with grease he knew from his own experience would not come clean regardless of how hard his brother scrubbed. No matter how much he respected his dad for the long hours he put in at the shop, or how much fun he had working beside his brother, dad, and grandpa over the years, this was not the life he wanted for himself.

“Where’s Dad?” Henry glanced around.

“Right here, son.” His dad, William, handed him a silver thermos. “I made some coffee for you, to make sure you stay alert on your drive.” Henry grimaced. William Livingston was talented at many things, but coffee was not one of them, the flavor ranging too often from bitter to burnt. Not an ideal sliding scale.

“Thanks, Dad.” Taking an appreciative sip while repressing a shudder, he watched his dad extract an envelope from his back pocket. Henry shook his head when William handed it to him.

“Dad,” he protested, “I don’t need that. Besides, Mom gave me money before I left the house.” While his family didn’t struggle financially, he didn’t feel right about taking money from them, not if he wanted to be completely independent. His dad insisted, tucking the envelope into the front pocket of the western shirt he’d thrown on over his t-shirt that morning.

“Make sure you get something good to eat on the road, not just those sandwiches I saw your mom whipping up this morning. And stop every couple of hours to stretch your legs. Never let the gas gauge get below half a tank…” Henry nodded respectfully while his dad covered everything they had talked about on a weekly basis since he first made his plan. “And you damn sure better call your mom once a week after you get there, but until then, you call her every time you stop for gas. Got it?” Staring into the earnest blue eyes of the man who worked harder than anyone should have to, Henry allowed this chapter of his life to close. Enfolding him in one of his signature bear hugs, his dad squeezed his ribs. “I’m so proud of you. You’re a fine young man.”

Henry, released from his father’s embrace, looked to his older brother, the one he had trailed while growing up: imitating him, irritating him, and idolizing him. The brothers had shared a room until George was fourteen and Henry twelve, trading comic books in the dark of night, each one reading by flashlight, a memory he held dearly. He would miss George, but he was ready to be out of his brother’s shadow, excited to be doing something no one in his family had ever done.

The brothers hugged, and George ruffled his hair, knocking his Minnesota Twins baseball cap off. “This is it, Henry. You’re starting your life. Don’t let me down.” And he wouldn’t, not now when he finally had the chance to do something bigger than Clover Lake. Leaving the tiny town behind, Henry resolved to forget the disappointments he’d experienced, from his best friends bailing on him to the unrequited love for Diadema Sommer. This was the summer he would become his own man and carve his own future out. With the windows rolled down, he drove five miles over the speed limit, blasting Tom Petty and relishing the freedom of his new life.

Charlotte cast a glance around the high school auditorium, awaiting the teenage actors she had cast in the roles for three one-act plays. Their first practice was in less than an hour, and why she was nervous, she had no idea. Some of the actors were her students, and most of the other teens she’d become familiar with in the weeks since school had begun. Aside from her classroom, the auditorium, with its wooden stage that creaked just so when she walked across it, was her favorite place in the school, even more so now that Del, the head custodian, had rehung the freshly laundered stage curtain for the upcoming performance season.

“I’m so bored,” a voice echoed through the empty room. Entering from the heavy oak door leading from the high school hall and pushing a stroller was a woman in her mid-thirties, heavily pregnant and with strawberry-blond hair. “And now my feet are tired. Is it okay if I just sit here before I walk back home?” Positively radiant, the woman was familiar somehow, but Charlotte couldn’t place her.

“Of course.” Charlotte pulled a chair down from the stack lined up against the wall. “But may I ask what brought you to the high school at seven in the evening? I’m Charlotte, by the way.” She introduced herself. “New English teacher and even newer play director.” Her new job included coaching the extracurricular drama activities, something she hadn’t done in Sioux City for at least a decade.

“Nice to meet you, Charlotte. I’m Ruth Mills, formerly Lefferts. This was my home away from home when I was in high school, and I knew the lights on meant one thing—play practice! I used to love this time of year. Learning my lines, hanging out with the other theatre kids, my sister and I going to the diner before practice.” Ruth raised a downy yellow blanket in the stroller, under which a baby with bright red curls and blinking green eyes lay, sucking on her pacifier. “My sweet little Eloisa is teething and only a nighttime stroll around town soothes her.”

“She’s gorgeous. How old is she?”

“Ten months.” Ruth rubbed her belly, “and I’m a little over eight months along with this firecracker. When my husband does something, he gets the job done thoroughly,” she chuckled. “Sean’s usually the one who performs this new ritual of parading little miss around town, but he’s been called into the hospital. He’s a pediatrician,” Ruth explained. “Are you new in Beverley, then? Most people recognize the Lefferts name, because of my parents.”

“I am, actually. I just moved here last month from Iowa.”

“Oh, nice. I was born and bred in Beverley, but we just moved back not too long ago. I ended up in Philadelphia after college, which is where I met Sean. I didn’t think I’d be living back here, but then we had kids and I started thinking about the advantages of a small-town life for them. So, Sean and I packed up our lives and moved here. My parents are retired, which is great. Sean’s had some adjusting to do since he lived his whole life in Philly, but he loves it. His mom and sisters still live there, so our girls will have the best of both worlds. Growing up here, but spending summers and holidays in a big city.”

“I feel the same way as your husband. Beverley’s been a great place for me to recharge my life. I’ve never lived anywhere but Iowa, and most of that has been in Sioux City.”

Ruth nodded. “I guess you could say that I’m recharging my life, too, as a stay-at-home mom. In a former life, I was a speech pathologist, which I loved, but I don’t see going back to my career any time soon, since I will soon be the mother of two daughters under a year apart.”

“Wow, I know how difficult it is to juggle a career and motherhood, and I only had one child,” Charlotte reassured Ruth. “Although I was a bit of a late bloomer getting my degree and then starting a career, since my daughter was born the fall I was supposed to start college. I ended up not going until Isobel went to kindergarten.”

Ruth tilted her head and took a sip of what looked like iced tea from a plastic cup resting in the stroller’s handle. “I’ve seen you at the library a few times talking with Effie.” That’s why Ruth looked familiar, Charlotte thought. “She and I are friends.”

“Oh,” Charlotte responded, “Effie was one of the first friends I made in Beverley. I met her only a few days after I moved here. Not only is she great with book recommendations, but she helps me stay current with what my students are reading. Teens today don’t realize how good they have it. Back in my day, we didn’t have quite the selection, despite how much I loved Judy Blume, Cynthia Voigt, S. E. Hinton. You probably had more authors to read, right?” Charlotte estimated she was probably fifteen years older than Ruth.

“Well, I loved those authors, too,” Ruth confirmed, “but yeah, I read John Green, Stephanie Meyer…Meg Cabot.” The baby fussed, and Ruth patted her tummy. “You know, Effie is writing her own book, right?”

“Yes, and I love the premise.” Charlotte had read the first draft of Effie’s young adult novel, a beautiful story about a Lakota teen girl searching for her place in the world. “We need more books written for kids…for everyone, actually, from the Native perspective.”

Ruth nodded. “Effie is absolutely incredible! Have you met her boyfriend, Josh, yet?”

“No, not yet, but from the way Effie talks about him, it sounds like they are absolutely perfect for each other.”

Ruth grinned. “They are, without a doubt. I’ve known Josh since we were fifteen. He used to date my sister, Tess, after he and his dad moved here. I guess you haven’t heard that Tess and Josh used to be engaged?”

“No. Is that awkward, then, seeing Josh with Effie?”

Ruth waved her hand. “Not at all. I can’t believe you haven’t heard this; it’s a pretty unbelievable story. Last year, Tess and I were traveling to her bachelorette weekend in California, and we took a train from the East Coast. Our first day on the train, she had one of those meet-cute scenarios you read about in books with this man, Sam.” Charlotte gasped. “Yep. Anyway, Sam fell head over heels for my sister. I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s stunning, and she bakes like a boss! Tess tried to deny her feelings for Sam, obviously, but when lightning strikes…ya know? Poor Josh had a hard time, but he really wasn’t the right one for Tess. They’d been together since high school, but hadn’t been right for each other for years.”

Charlotte’s mouth gaped. “This is absolutely unbelievable—it’s like something out of a novel! I’m not sure whether to swoon for Tess and Sam or feel sorry for Josh.”

“Be happy for everybody! Tess and Sam got married this summer, and Josh and Effie have a pretty fantastic love story. They knew each other when they were younger, since they went to school in Clover Lake together until Josh moved here. Technically, I guess, they weren’t together in school, since Josh is a year younger. Anyway, Effie and Josh both ended up back in Beverley earlier this year and reconnected. Effie is a much better fit for him than Tess.” Ruth wiped at her eyes, emotional either from the love stories or her pregnancy. Or both, in Charlotte’s experience.

Charlotte sighed. “My ex-husband and I met in high school. We were a lot like Tess and Josh, I suppose, only we ended up getting married right after our high school graduation.”

Eloisa cried wholeheartedly then, and Ruth picked her up, turning slightly away to nurse her. “I’m guessing your marriage had something to do with the baby you had?”

“Correct. Don’t get me wrong, Isobel, my daughter, is the best thing in my life, and I don’t regret her one bit, but…there’s always been a part of me asking ‘what if’.”

The door opened, and this time Effie sailed in. “Ruth! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing! Don’t you have enough to do at the library? Didn’t I also hear that you’re now the assistant track coach?”

“I know. I couldn’t say no when Paul asked me about the coaching position. Then Charlotte and I were talking plays when she was in the library, and it made me think about how much fun I had acting when I was in high school, so I asked if she needed a volunteer. Josh is still traveling to Sioux Falls a few times a week to finish part of his residency, so staying busy makes me miss my man less, ya know?”

“And I fully welcome any adults who want to help with hormonal teenagers!”

“Well, this hormonal adult needs to get home before her husband does. You two have fun.” Rut gently placed Eloisa into the stroller as students started streaming in.

“Hey, Ms. Berg, Ready for practice?” Kara, lead actress and one of her junior-year students, entered the auditorium.

“Getting there, Kara. You know Miss Van Holland, correct?” Effie waved.

Kara nodded. “Of course. Effie is everyone’s favorite librarian.”

Play practice commenced shortly after, and when it ended, Charlotte, not quite ready to go home to her empty house, stopped by the diner. At Betsy’s, she ordered a slice of peach pie, and while Sissy filled her coffee cup, her phone rang.

“Trixie, how are you?” In the month since the state fair, the two had texted frequently and occasionally shared a phone call. Multiple attempts to schedule dinner or lunch had failed, since their lives had proven too busy.

“Swamped, now that we’re home from Chicago.” The last time she had spoken with Trixie, she and her husband were on their way there for a vacation. “Brian and I had the most incredible time with Daniel. I had to pinch myself that my eldest son is the award-winning chef for the Hotel Dumont,” Trixie’s voice oozed pride. “Lottie, have you ever been to Chicago?”

“Once. My husband and I drove there for a Stevie Nicks concert after Isobel went to college. We did one of those pizza tours. My mouth still waters whenever I think of that deep-dish pizza. Mmm.” During that trip, Charlotte had glimpsed a hopeful future for her and Brady, one that would have them traveling more, sharing experiences, but their return home had quashed her optimism, as the stagnancy of their married life fell into place once again.

“Oh, Lottie, you have to go back.” Trixie paused briefly, then dropped her voice half an octave, “The city is pretty romantic, you know…perfect place for a weekend with someone special.” Charlotte, unsure how to respond, let the statement hang between them. Other than telling Trixie about her divorce, the two of them hadn’t discussed Charlotte’s love life. Or lack thereof. “Anyway, I’ve been struggling to keep up with the bookwork for the auto shop since I’ve been back. I mean, we were only gone for two weeks! You’d think my dad would know how to organize what used to be his business. Honestly, I don’t know why my brother George couldn’t do it, since he’s been running it for twenty years. I tell you what, he’s no busier than my brother Henry, who manages his own shop and does his own bookkeeping.” Trixie’s greatest rants concerned her brothers, and Charlotte, an only child, was intrigued by the family dynamics. Often, her friend was exasperated by her older brother, while being overly protective of her younger one. “Maybe I should ask Henry to come over from Beverley this weekend. He’s so generous with his time…always wanting to help everyone out when he can.”

“Your brother has an auto shop in Beverley?” Something flickered in Charlotte’s mind at this information, but she wasn’t sure what it meant.

“Yeah, I told you that when we met, didn’t I?”

“No, you only said one of your brothers lived in Beverley,” Charlotte reminded her as pieces of a puzzle fell into place. Could the man she’d seen outside the auto shop that fateful day last spring be Trixie’s brother? Her heart fluttered thinking of every time she’d hoped to run into him by chance around town.

“Oh, sorry, I must have gotten interrupted or something. I love to brag about my little brother,” Trixie declared. “Yes, he moved there about twenty years ago. Started his business, started his entire life over with his son after his marriage ended. Now that we’re on the topic of Henry, can I say that from the moment I met you, I thought you two might be a good match?”

“Oh, really? From the two minutes we talked that night, you thought that?” Smiling as Sissy placed her pie in front of her, Charlotte lifted her fork for a bite.

“Totally! Look, I don’t want to say too much because some of what my brother has gone through is very private, but he had to make some tough choices for his son and for himself.” Sounds familiar, Charlotte thought. “Those things have made him a little more closed off than he needs to be… than he used to be. When he was younger, Henry was incredibly open, so generous, until…all I’ll say is that he’s been hurt, more than a man of his caliber deserves. Women have been interested, believe me, but I think they’re just too…I don’t know…blah. But you…you have a certain spark that I think would complement him.”

Flattered that Trixie wanted to set her up, she was also nervous, which made no sense because her brother was the man she’d been interested in for months. But that could be why she felt conflicted, too. What if he wasn’t interested? Would it affect her friendship with Trixie? “What about your friend, DD? I saw him with her at the fair?” No way could Charlotte compete with her—she was gorgeous.

“Oh, so you did notice him at the fair, huh?” Charlotte blushed, even though she was alone. “You coy little devil, you never even let on or anything. As far as DD goes? No way. Henry learned his lesson with her in high school.” Charlotte tensed, uneasy about having to compete with the closeness she’d witnessed between the two at the fair, not looking for a twisted romantic entanglement involving possible exes. “Besides, she’s married. Second husband.” Scooping up another bite of pie, she relaxed slightly as Trixie continued, “Caused a real stir in Clover Lake when she showed up with Burnside, believe me. Hometown widow returning with a rich husband from the East? Anyway, she was only there that night because Nora invited her—she wasn’t with Henry. Between you and me, I have never seen what appeals to my sister-in-law about that woman. But, I guess sometimes we choose friends at an early age and we’re stuck with them.”

“Not that it’s the same, but Amy and I have been friends since kindergarten, so I know how hard it can be to let go of a friendship like that.”

“I’m sure it’s not the same at all. Amy seems perfectly nice. Not like someone who gets a kick out of using people for their own advantage,” Trixie huffed. “Anyway, back to my brother. Are you interested?”

Interested? Definitely. Terrified? Even more so. An idea bloomed. Maybe if she had a reason to see Henry, rejection wouldn’t be as scary. Or likely. “You said he’s a mechanic? I have been having issues with my car starting in the morning,” Charlotte admitted, dreading what could be wrong with her ‘69 Tempest, a classic car originally owned by her father. Jacob Sherk had carefully maintained it after purchasing it brand new, leaving it in pristine condition for her after he died. The tangible link to her father meant the world to her, and the vehicle was so precious to her that she only drove it around town; she used a Jeep as her general workhorse.

“Perfect! This is better than I could have planned. Take your car over to his garage. It’s on Main Street, right across from the coffee shop, and ask for Henry.”

Charlotte admitted, “I know where it is. The first time I was in Beverley, I saw him sitting on the bench outside the shop, reading a book.”

“Really? Henry the workaholic? He barely gives himself a day off.” As if Charlotte needed one more reason to be intrigued by him, Trixie sweetened the pot with, “You know, he built that bench with his own two hands.”

Biting her lip, she imagined what else he could be good at with his hands and fanned herself with her napkin. Not wanting to appear too eager, she said, “I guess I could swing by there after school tomorrow...”

“Excellent! Listen, Lottie, Henry is worth it, I promise. He’s been single a long time. Many women have been interested; I just think he’s been waiting for the right person to appreciate all he has to offer.”

Quietly, she told Trixie, “I admit that I find him attractive; I just don’t know how ready I am for anything.”

“I know your divorce is recent and meeting someone might be overwhelming, but just keep an open mind, okay? I’ve gotta go, but let me know how it goes. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Sissy refilled her coffee. “Did I hear you mention you were having car trouble?” Charlotte confirmed with a nod, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You should take it to Henry at Check Care Auto. He’s really nice.” She blew a bubble with her gum. “Once he changed my tire for free, when he found me by the side of the road coming home from band practice. My mom has, like, a huge crush on him.”

She couldn’t keep the latest development to herself. “Amy, you will never believe what I just found out.”

“God, I can’t even begin to imagine. Ooh, I know! Mr. Gorgeous from the auto shop is your next-door neighbor, but you only just found out because he’s been away for the past three months on some secret mission.”

Charlotte burst out laughing. “Close. Kind of. Peripherally.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Mr. Gorgeous, as you call him⁠—”

Amy squealed. “Ooh, I knew it had to do with him. And don’t pretend like you don’t agree he’s gorgeous, Lottie. That man is fine!”

“More importantly,” Charlotte signaled Sissy for her check, “I just got off the phone with Trixie. Turns out that he is her brother!”

“What! Why has she been holding out on this information for so long? Like, hello, you have a beautiful new friend who’s recently divorced and a hot brother—why wasn’t she trying to set you two up this entire time? Oh, no, is he married? Tell me he’s not married, Lottie. I’ll be crushed.”

“He’s not married,” she assured Amy. “He’s divorced, too, and I guess Trixie was waiting for the right time to bring it up. Some people aren’t as pushy as others, you know.”

“That sounds like a personal problem, if you ask me, and I hate to say that because I like Trixie,” Amy giggled. “So, what else did she say?”

“Well, he also happens to own the auto shop.”

“No! Did I not suggest that possibility?” She had, more than once. Charlotte had to give Amy credit. “So when are you taking your car in? This is so perfect because you have been having those issues with the Tempest!”

Some of the elation wore off and doubt crept in again. “I don’t know…is this desperate? Popping in with my car? It seems kind of…cheesy.”

“You’re overthinking it, Lottie. Do you want to meet him or not?” Her best friend paused. “It’s not easy, at any age, taking a chance on someone, but if you want a relationship or even just a date, take the opportunity. Go and talk to him. If he’s a jerk or uninterested, you call it a day and move on.”

Every nerve ending in her body tingled as she stepped out of her car at Henry’s shop the next day. Crisp autumn air tickled her nose, and she caught a leaf drifting on the wind in her hands. Cautiously stepping inside an open garage bay, she called out softly, “Hello?” No one answered, and she worried the shop was closed, despite the open door. As an Eagles song serenaded her, Charlotte rounded the front end of an aging maroon Chevy truck. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

“Can I help you?” The deep timbre of his voice shook her, tantalizing in a uniquely masculine way. Ready or not, the time had come for her to meet Henry.

How had an hour passed already? Henry stretched, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. With his mechanics gone for the day, time was more difficult to track, more so now that it was October. Once the sun started setting in the late afternoon, he got lost in the stillness when it was only him and the radio. “Peaceful Easy Feeling” was playing through the shop when an enchanting feminine voice broke through. “Hello? Is anyone here?” Curious, Henry followed the siren’s song out of his office.

Surveying a streak of black on the floor, he shook his head, dismayed that Lenny hadn’t scrubbed it thoroughly enough before leaving. Henry strove to have a clean auto shop, but also understood conditions could get hectic; however, if his employees kept up with small cleaning tasks throughout the day, the job was easier. Footsteps echoed from the front of the garage, and he called, “Can I help you?”

Exiting the hallway leading from his office, he found a garage door still open. “Sorry about that; those doors should all be shut. I guess one of my guys forgot to close-” Henry cut off his explanation. It was her. The woman who haunted his dreams at night and occupied his thoughts during the day. A woman he never thought he’d see again, after two fateful glances.

His first glimpse of her had been last spring, when he’d been enjoying an unseasonably warm April day outside his shop on the wooden bench he’d built during a particularly harsh winter nearly a decade ago. The week had been a rainy one, but that Friday the sun had broken free of the clouds, making the sky a bright, cerulean blue. The Reader’s Den, Beverley’s independent bookstore, had just delivered the copy of Native Son he had ordered the week before. Surprisingly, business had been light that day, so he’d taken a cup of his newest coffee blend outside—a Mexican hot chocolate flavor—along with the turkey sandwich on rye he’d made that morning. Absorbed in his book and coffee, his reverie broke when Juan, his best mechanic and long-time friend, interrupted him with a question concerning how to bill one of the shop’s frequent customers. After talking through the logistics of giving a small discount for the cost of labor, thereby offsetting the sticker shock of the cost of the parts, a flash of pink across the street caught his eye. A woman, wearing a dress the color of a dewy rose. With a belt cinching her waist, the swell of her hips bloomed beneath it. Speechless, he watched as a breeze lifted her shiny brown hair; the strands then caressed cheeks dimpled with laughter. The first woman in what seemed like forever to draw and hold his attention, he’d been tempted to wave at her. Wave. As if he wasn’t ridiculous enough in his coveralls, mesmerizingly attracted to a stranger. After she’d entered Mr. Beans, he hadn’t seen her again.

Until the night at the state fair, when he’d spotted her on the Ferris wheel, though she’d been too far away to recognize. Later, sitting at the VIP table, sweat trickling down his back, he was on the verge of misery when he saw her again, and his body responded with the same heightened level of attraction as it had months before. Utterly feminine, she’d worn a flowy, flowered top and those pants that were neither short nor full length—maybe he’d heard his sister call them capri pants? Her feet bare in sandals, toes painted a bright purple, the eye-catching shade enticed him even more. Flanked by his sister on one side and DD on the other, he was unable to do anything but admire her from afar. Deflated, Henry turned his attention back to his food, eating the barbecue his brother had arranged for their table. At his elbow, his sister murmured, “Henry, do you ever consider dating?” Stupefied, he kept his head down, wondering if she’d caught him staring at the woman. He relaxed when she clarified, “You know…ask a woman out, take her for dinner, maybe to a movie.” With his eyes still focused on the table, she nudged him. “You can’t enjoy being alone all the time?”

“I’m not alone all the time,” he responded, maybe a bit too defensively. “I have the guys at the shop⁠—”

“Oh, I see. I hope you’re not comparing seeing the guys at the shop with spending time with a woman?” Peering over his shoulder, Trixie lowered her voice. “It’s just that you have so much to offer someone…someone you don’t already have a history with.” Trixie had not been fond of either of the women in his past: his ex-wife or the one on his other side.

Spontaneously confiding in his sister, he said, “I have been…thinking…of maybe trying to meet someone.” Her eyebrows shot up in astonishment. Before Henry could tell her about one woman in particular who had drawn his interest, Brian interrupted, nuzzling his wife’s neck. Henry looked away, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

DD had taken that opportunity to whisper in his ear, “It’s been nice seeing you these past few months, since Effie and Josh started dating.” Well, that was stretching it, he thought. They had crossed paths exactly twice that year: once when he had run into her at the diner in town earlier that summer, and the second time was only a couple of weeks ago, when Josh had thrown a surprise party for Effie after he moved back from New York City. The lights had dimmed, then, with a local DJ announcing the opening band. Henry murmured something vague to DD in return before standing up to join George by the railing to view the concert better.

Standing in Check Care Auto, in front of Henry now, was the woman he’d been looking for, and the admission shook him. After two decades of being single, Henry had resigned himself to a life alone, his heart and dignity battered by his ex-wife’s abandonment. Sure, there had been the occasional woman, once Josh had gone off to college, that he had taken out on a casual date, sometimes spent the night with, repeating the process every so often, but he had been exceedingly cautious. Cautious wasn’t what he was feeling at this moment, not with this stunning woman in his shop, who had the blush of a ripened peach on her cheeks. Swallowing painfully, trying to get his voice to work without sounding like he was in puberty, Henry asked, “May I help you?” Original, Henry admonished himself. Truly original. That was him, he thought disparagingly, one in a million.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was as melodious as he had expected. “Are you…are you Henry?” Even from behind a pair of glasses, her brown eyes sparkled as she studied him, and she ran a slender finger across the hood of the decades-old Chevy Silverado he’d spent the afternoon working on.

Stupefied, he stared at her. “Yes, I’m Henry.” How did she know his name?

As if reading his mind, she said, “Your sister sent me. I mean, she didn’t send me. She suggested you.” Suggested him? For what? Henry imagined many things he would like to be considered for regarding this enchanting woman with eyes warm and inviting, but he was positive his sister’s ideas didn’t align with his. What could she mean when she said that Trixie had sent her? Had she noticed Henry watching this woman at the fair and somehow gotten in touch with her? His older sister had long ago given up on trying to set him up with her friends, but since he had admitted to her about the possibility of dating, maybe she had decided to try? “I’m sorry. Maybe you’re already closed?” Possessing a voice that soothed his frayed nerves, he wanted to listen to her all day. And then she smiled. “What smells so insanely delicious?”

“I just made some coffee.” A spark of interest flashed in her eyes. On a whim, Henry offered, “Would you like a cup?” Stupid, Henry, stupid. What woman wants to drink coffee offered by a strange man in an auto shop, surrounded by oil, metal, and stains?

“What? Now? Oh, I don’t want to bother you.” Was it his imagination, or had she taken a step closer?

He cleared his throat. “No, it’s no bother…it’s just in my office.” Right. The last thing she probably wanted was to follow him deeper into the shop. Plus, he recalled the smudge on the floor in his hallway, so in an attempt to save his dignity, he offered, “Unless you’d like me to bring a cup out here? You look too nice to walk through here.” Nice? The flimsy word didn’t come close to describing her, adorned in an ankle-length, fawn-colored skirt and a knitted sweater the shade of clotted cream. Henry dreaded the possibility of her brushing up against something, ruining her beautiful clothes.

She took another step in his direction, her lips parting as she did so. “I’m not afraid of a little dirt, Henry. My dad was a machinist. He trained during World War Two and taught me to never be afraid of getting my hands dirty.” His gaze dropped to her hands, small and graceful in the folds of her skirt, with long, tapered fingernails painted sapphire. “I’d love a cup of coffee in your office.”

Unbelievable, but before she could change her mind, he led her to his office. “So you said that my sister sent you here?” Brushing by him as he held the office door open for her, he swallowed a groan as the soft curve of her hip came into contact with his thigh.

“Yes, Trixie told me you could help me…with my car?” A shake of her head sent glistening brown waves tumbling over her shoulders, releasing the light scent of her shampoo…was that apples? Inhaling deeply, he stepped into the office. “It’s been giving me issues in the morning when I go to start it, and I’m afraid one morning it will fail completely.”

Deflated somewhat to discover that this spectacular woman was truly only here for an auto repair, and not sent by his sister in a matchmaking scheme, Henry began, “Okay, I can⁠—”

She interrupted, “I just moved to Beverley this summer.” A long nail tapping against her plump lips spiked his blood pressure. “I’ve seen you, though.” She took a step closer as he did the same. In the intimacy of his office, his skin burned with the heat emanating from her. “The first time I visited Beverley, as a matter of fact. You were reading outside.” With one hand, Henry gripped the rag in his back pocket in a desperate attempt not to reach for her, unsettled by the idea of her noticing him, exactly as he had noticed her.

Unsure of what else to say or do, he cleared his throat one more time. At this rate, she was bound to think he had an underlying medical condition. “I can take a look at your car. It sounds like either the battery or the alternator. Battery I can take care of now, but if it’s the alternator, I’ll have to order one in.” Frustrated with himself, wishing he were more suave, he lifted his ball cap up to swipe at his forehead, studying her. With her radiant, unlined complexion, she was probably at least ten years too young for him, a man in his mid-fifties.

“Oh, I didn’t bring it because I was nervous to drive it.” Henry lifted an eyebrow. “I drove my other car instead.” Henry raised his other eyebrow, and a lilting giggle filled the shop, warmth spreading through him. “I probably sound crazy, right? It’s a Custom S Tempest⁠—”

He couldn’t stop his whistle. Only made for one year, he’d never seen one outside of a classic car show. “That’s a sleek ride. Puts newer muscle cars to shame.” As she blinked her dark, chocolaty eyes, her eyelashes brushed her cheeks.

“It was my dad’s.” She tucked a curl of silky hair behind her ear. “Aside from memories and photographs, it’s the only piece of him I still have. He treasured it, and I want to keep it forever, so I only drive it around town.”

“That’s probably wise. I’d be happy to give it a full exam for you. Make sure everything is in top running order.” Henry poured her a cup of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

“Both, please.” She accepted the coffee he held out to her. “I hope I’m not putting you out or keeping you from…whatever it is you normally do after closing.” He’d stay here the entire night for her. Or longer, he decided, after she tasted her coffee and closed her eyes. “Mmm, delicious.”

Ducking his head, he grinned. “Thank you. You’re not, you know.” Her eyelids fluttered open, and her brown gaze trapped his blue one. “Keeping me here. I’m usually here until seven, doing my bookkeeping.” Nice, Henry, he thought, now the most intriguing woman he’d ever met would think he was a dullard with no life. The pathetic thing was, she wouldn’t be completely wrong. “You said you just moved here? From where?”

“Sioux City. We don’t have a lot of crime there, but it’s just bigger, and I’m still getting used to people leaving their front doors unlocked here.” Her warm brown eyes studied him from behind her glasses. “Or their auto shops.”

“Yeah, where I grew up, it was even smaller than Beverley, believe it or not.” His eyes held hers, and from the speaker, “Handyman” played, James Taylor filling his office softly. “When do you want to bring your car in?”

Red lips parted slightly. Her tongue peeked out, quickening his pulse in response. “I⁠—”

“Hey, Dad, whose Jeep is out front?” Josh’s voice echoed from the garage, startling Henry and the woman. “You about ready?” he called.

“You know what? I really should be going.” She put her cup down on his desk. “I’ll call tomorrow and make an appointment?” Her dimples flashed in a smile.

“It’s no trouble if you want to just bring the car in,” he assured her. “I’ll check it over myself.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll do that.” Josh’s head peeked into the office, and she said, “Thanks for the coffee, Henry. I’ll see you later.”

“Dad?” Henry watched as the woman walked out, unable to help himself from noticing the swing of her full hips as she did so. “Dad? Who was that?”

Henry shook his head. “I have no idea,” and peered out the garage bay before closing it for the night, just in time to see the woman climb into her Jeep. Envisioning her in the Tempest added even more to her allure, and a need he’d never experienced gripped him as she drove out of sight.

From the steps of Beverley High School, Charlotte sat with Paul, waiting as the floats from the Homecoming Parade circled back to the campus parking lot. School had ended early for the parade, but Charlotte had more on her mind than the Homecoming festivities as Paul remarked, “I can’t believe I’m just finding out now about you and Henry.”

Blushing, she corrected the vice-principal. “There’s no me and Henry.” She’d only brought up her after-school plan to Paul after he mentioned that Henry had just worked on Adam’s vehicle. Nearly insufferable since, the younger man insisted on casting a satisfied grin her way whenever she looked at him.

Paul twirled a whistle on the end of a lanyard. “I don’t know why I never thought about setting you two up. You’d be perfect together.”

Two weeks since Charlotte visited Henry’s shop, and her hormones hadn’t forgotten the electric pull, as evidenced by her erratically beating heart every time she thought about seeing him again. “This isn’t a setup, I’m just taking my car-”

“Mmm-hmm, so you’ve said. Many times.” With the street clear, Charlotte and Paul made their way to the area where the teachers parked. “Say hi to Henry from me.” Paul’s eyes mischievously twinkled over the roof of her car. “Anyway, I’ll see you tonight. Tell Isobel she owes me some popcorn later!” Her daughter, who visited her almost every other week, had become friends with Paul and Adam and was coming for the weekend. The four of them planned to meet up at the football game when the Beverley Spartans took on the Huron Tigers. “And at least a beer at Shorty’s after the game!” Paul called to her as she backed out of her parking spot. With gold and blue signs up in the windows of virtually every business, Spartan fever coursed through the town as she drove to Check Care Auto. Groaning when she encountered a traffic jam on Main Street, she contemplated waiting until tomorrow to take in her Tempest, but anticipated too much the idea of catching Henry alone, something that definitely wouldn’t happen with Isobel at her heels.

Once she arrived at the shop, all garage doors were closed, which made sense in retrospect, since everyone she knew was going to the game later. Dejected, she shifted into reverse and was just backing up when she noticed a light glowing from a side door. Too bright to be only a security light, she recalled Henry mentioning he usually stayed late doing paperwork. Could he still be inside? Afraid to hope, Charlotte parked, got out of her car, and walked to the side door on wobbly legs. Her hand tingled reaching for the doorknob, and apprehension filled her, leaving her torn between turning around or taking a chance on finding Henry inside. Anticipating the same sensual thrill he’d given her the last time, she twisted the knob. Welcomed by another tantalizing smell and “Who’ll Stop the Rain” playing, she followed her senses to Henry’s office, where the door stood open. Swiftly typing on his phone, he was half turned away from her, his impossibly broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his long-sleeved t-shirt all too appealingly. Transfixed, she imagined the feel of his solid strength surrounding her. Blushing, she shook her head, lightly knocking on the door frame before she lost her courage. “Hello?”

Raising his silvery-blond head, he dropped the phone on his desk, immediately rising to his feet. “You’re back.” Was that amazement she heard reverberating in his deep voice?

Be bold, she told herself, trying to quell her anxiety. “Well, my car almost didn’t start this morning,” she laughed, “so I figured it was telling me to take care of it. I’m not always this bad about maintenance. Part of me is paranoid, I guess, that something could be wrong with it that can’t be fixed. It’s more than just a car to me. It represents my parents.” During her pregnancy, when Brady was going to school and working full-time, they’d only had one car. Charlotte, with two part-time jobs: one as a housekeeper at a motel and the other as a cook in the attached restaurant, needed transportation, so her parents shuttled her to and from work in the Tempest. Since the motel was on the other side of Sioux City, the trip took twenty minutes, longer if they stopped by a park on the way home. Early autumn evenings with the three of them eating picnic suppers made by her mom: fried chicken and macaroni salad, ham sandwiches on thick-sliced homemade bread with handheld peach pies, or occasionally just deviled eggs and chocolate chip cookies, crispy on the edges the way her mom knew she preferred. Those were moments she never would’ve had if she hadn’t gotten pregnant and married Brady. Aside from the car being loved by her dad, it signified the time in her life when she’d been the closest to her parents.

Henry nodded. “No matter what car you drive, it needs to be taken care of properly, but especially something that means as much to you as your Custom S Tempest,” he told her, his tone serious, yet sexy…Was this why people found cars to be such a turn-on?

“You remembered I have a Custom S?” Charlotte twisted a curl behind her ear, and she noticed his crystal blue eyes tracking the movement.

“Of course. I also remember you drove a Jeep here, which is special in its own right. But the Custom S, that’s a legend. The nameplate on the body was only available for one year, you know.” He walked around to the front of his desk.

Charlotte laughed, because for her dad, that was all anyone needed to know about the car. “For years, I thought my dad made that up.”

Henry’s hands lifted, settling on his slim hips, his long fingers making her mouth water. So did his smile when he shook his head. “No, not made up. It’s extremely sought after in some circles. It’s a spectacular car.” Longing rushed through her as his smile lifted the corners of his wide mouth and deepened the dimple in his chin; his eyes didn’t waver from hers. “I’m sure it suits you.” Momentarily speechless after the compliment, she struggled to gather her wits, especially since he was the first person in forever to understand about her car. Brady had always complained that the Tempest required too much maintenance, often prodding her to sell it to a collector. “Tell me how your dad got the Custom S.”

“He bought it the year it came out, before I was born. My parents didn’t think they could have kids, so I think he saw it as his baby until I came along.” Jacob and Saloma Sherk were fifty-three and forty-five, respectively, when Charlotte was born. After giving up all hope of children after twenty years of marriage, they considered their daughter not just a blessing but a miracle, something she had taken full advantage of, until the day her pregnancy test was positive. Charlotte, angry and resentful, at first blamed her parents for not restricting her with more rules. However, had Charlotte not gotten pregnant so young, her parents probably wouldn’t have been grandparents, since both passed in quick succession of each other when Isobel was five. “I grew up with it being a part of every one of my milestones in life. A few months before my dad passed, he gave it to me.” Charlotte choked up. “My ex-husband hated it when I drove our daughter around in it—didn’t think it was safe, but my dad had installed seat belts after I was born.” Anticipating her need, Henry handed her a tissue from a box on his desk, and she flashed him a grateful smile. “He was like that—he thought of everything.”

“I’m sorry about your dad. He sounds like someone I would’ve gotten along with.” Charlotte nodded. Her dad spent hours discussing his beloved Tempest with anyone who would listen, and he would’ve had a rapt audience with Henry.

“He was the best. My mom, too. Not a strict bone in her body. She always wore aprons around the house because she baked for everyone in the neighborhood. So every time I hugged her, she smelled like flour.” A deep breath kept her tears at bay, and the following silence made her aware of how they had gravitated toward each other. Henry was so close, the spicy scent of his aftershave quickened her pulse. She desperately needed a diversion. “I have to know—what are you brewing back here that smells so insanely delicious?” Rewarded by his deep chuckle, his smile made her breath catch in her throat. “Is this your secret to making an auto shop smell just as good as the coffee shop across the street? Do you get your own specialty blend delivered or something?”

Scruff bristled against his hand when he scratched his chin, an action that drew her attention again to the sexy cleft in the center, and she shivered in response. When he lifted his cap to drag a powerful-looking hand through his blond hair, the silver at his temples sparkled under the low light glowing from his desk lamp. Without the overhead fluorescent lights on, the office felt intimate. “Believe it or not, I make my own blend.”

Lord help her, what had he just said? He makes his own coffee? He crafts benches…he makes coffee…he knows about the Tempest. He was irresistible, and she wanted him. “I’m sorry,” she responded, somewhat incredulously, “you do what? Is that a thing—making your own coffee blend? I mean, I saw it in a Hallmark movie once, but I figured they were making it up,” she laughed.

“Well, I don’t know about Hallmark,” Henry chuckled, “but at least for me, it’s true. I buy my beans from a fair-trade coffee purveyor on the internet, and after I roast the beans, I add oils to get whatever flavor I want. I brew a different flavor every day.” The pride on his face made him more than just attractive—he was charming and compelling. “Would you like to taste today’s flavor?” Most definitely, she would love a taste of anything he offered, she thought as he poured her a cup. “This is a new blend I’m working on: a pumpkin and pecan blend that merges my favorite pies. Cream and sugar, right?”

I want it all, Charlotte lasciviously thought. If you are giving it to me, I’ll take it. “You remembered. Yes, please.” Breathless, she fanned herself while he pulled out a container of half and half from a small refrigerator. “Can I say thanks for having the good stuff?”

“I can’t waste my coffee on corn syrup and artificial flavors, can I?” Handing her the coffee, his calloused finger brushed hers, jolting them both. Charlotte’s tongue darted out of her mouth, an action his sky-blue eyes caught. Henry softly reminded her, “You know, you haven’t told me your name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—it’s Charlotte.” She held her breath as his hand captured hers.

“Nice to meet you.” With her much smaller hand in his, his work-toughened palm pressed against her smooth one all too briefly, disappointment flooding her when he released her. His aftershave mixed with the scent of his day’s labor, and his aroma enveloped her. Distracting herself with a sip of her coffee, she sighed with appreciation. “Wow, this is amazing, Henry. The pumpkin and pecan blend so well together, but I can still taste them each individually.”

He was a magician, and his coffee was truly the most flavorful she’d ever had. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

Her name on his tongue did nothing to quell her racing heart, and she lifted her cup for another sip, her hand shaking. “You know what would be delicious in the summer? S’mores coffee. If you need any inspiration.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, tapping the side of the cup before tearing off his baseball cap and tossing it onto his desk. “That’s better. Sometimes, by the end of the day, I feel like my brain is getting squeezed.”

“When I got here, I thought for a minute that you were gone.” Putting her cup down on the desk, she placed her hand alongside it. He did the same, their pinkie fingers within a breath of touching. “I’m glad you weren’t,” she admitted, taking the chance to be bold.

“Me, too.” His blue eyes flashed, and she felt the air shift between them. His finger grazed hers, so lightly she could have imagined it. The pull between them intensified until his ringing phone broke them apart. He picked it up, frowning as he turned it face down. With a small sigh, Henry said, “Okay, let me take a look at your car.” Waiting for her at his office door, he was so close that her shoulder brushed his chest as she left the room first.

Neither one seemed in a hurry to get to the front of the garage, and they walked down the hallway practically side by side. “I parked in front of the door on the right.” When they reached the bays, Henry flipped a switch, whistling when the ‘69 Tempest was in full view.

“Wow, this looks like it came from a showroom, Charlotte! You’ve done an excellent job maintaining it. Do you have the keys?”

“Yes.” She took them from her pocket, and when she spun around to hand them over, discovered his body mere inches from hers. Her eyes traveled up his chest, so close it took every ounce of her strength not to touch him, her body yearning to absorb his heat.

The muscles in his throat clenched, and her eyes locked with his. His voice was low and sexy. “Charlotte.”

“Hi, Mom!” Isobel, whose headlights shone from directly behind the Tempest, yelled from her car.

“Isobel! I thought you weren’t coming until later!”

Her daughter gave her a quizzical look. “Mom, I’m right on time. Or I was, but you weren’t at your house. You’re the one who’s late.”

What? How long had she been in the shop with Henry? Of course, she was delighted her daughter was here, but also dismayed her time with Henry was over. “How did you find me?”

“I activated the Find My Phone feature. Remember, I wanted to make sure you were safe? I like knowing where you are.” Isobel squeezed her shoulders in a side hug. Who was the child here? For crying out loud, she was only fifty, not quite geriatric.

While they had been reuniting, Henry popped her hood. Turning to her, he said, “I can check if it’s just the battery and change it out tonight, or you can leave it here and pick it up tomorrow, in case it’s the alternator?”

“Yeah, we’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Her daughter spoke without giving Charlotte a chance. “Hi, I’m Isobel.” Would Henry have offered to give her a lift home if her daughter hadn’t shown up? She could have forgone the football game, maybe offered to make him dinner at her place? She had a nice bottle of red wine that Adam and Paul had gifted her the week before school had started. Her fingers itched, imagining what his scruffy face would feel like touching it before she slid them up to his hair—that golden hair that curled at the back of his strong neck. How his slim hips would fit between her-

“Mom? Mom? MOM!” Isobel’s voice snapped Charlotte out of her daydream. “Henry says we’re good to go and can pick up the car tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes.” Reluctant to leave, the word caught in her throat; she cleared it and tried again. “Yes, that sounds fine. Thank you, Henry.”

“No problem. It will be ready any time after two.” Her eyes lingered on his before she followed Isobel out of the shop. Carrying the heat of his stare with her, she climbed into her daughter’s car, lifting her head to look through the windshield as she buckled her seatbelt. Something about him standing alone in the glow of the headlights struck her as forlorn, tempting her to tell Isobel to go to the game without her. She’d have fun with Adam and Paul, whether or not Charlotte was there.

As her daughter backed up, she questioned, “Okay, Mom…what did I just interrupt?”

Everything, she thought. “What? What do you mean?”

“When I pulled up, it looked like the two of you were getting ready to …kiss or something. I mean, you seem almost…disappointed that I showed up there.”

“No, I’m not.” She gave a short laugh, then reassured Isobel. “Sweetie, I’m so happy you’re here. I’m sorry⁠—”

Isobel cut her off. “I get it now!” She slapped a hand on the steering wheel. “That’s him, right?”

“Him who?” She blushed, hoping that her daughter wouldn’t notice in the dark.

“The guy! The guy Amy talked about at the fair. Henry is that guy!”

Somewhat reluctantly, Charlotte admitted, “Well, yes, he’s the guy, but nothing is going on with us. Wait, how do you know his name?”

“He told me after I introduced myself to him. You were daydreaming, remember?” God, she must have looked like a sex-starved divorcee. What must Henry be thinking? Was he affected by the undeniable pull of sexual awareness between them? Although completely foreign to her, she intended to follow it. “Well, I’m all for something happening between you two, because not only was Henry hot, for an older man, he wants you, Mom.”

Sitting beside her husband in the sterile hospital room, Diadema Van Holland reflected on her life and the impulsive choices she had made: some out of rebellion, some out of necessity, and some out of love. Her son interrupted her reverie. “Mom? Can I get you something from the cafeteria?” Hamilton, born from her second marriage. His father lay prone in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines that beeped, squeezed, and monitored, making noises constantly. It was a wonder Burnside could sleep through it all.

Last night, two days after Christmas, the two of them had been sitting in their lavish living room watching It Happened on 5th Avenue, as had become their tradition winding down the holiday. Burnside had been smoking his wretched cigar, as he insisted on doing every evening (despite her nagging for over twenty-five years of marriage), and nursing a glass of port, when he had abruptly clutched at his chest, turning pale and sweating profusely. Panicked, she had dialed 9-1-1, and the paramedics responded promptly. Suspecting a heart attack, they had whisked him away to the rural hospital in Clover Lake, whose ER team then sent him to the larger hospital in Beverley. After much testing, they concluded it wasn’t a heart attack after all but angina. Still unsure whether to be relieved or worried, Diadema had not left the side of her beloved husband, her source of stability for so long.

“No, baby, I don’t think I could even swallow water right now,” she told Hamilton with a sigh. “Have you spoken with your sister today? I told her last night that she and Josh shouldn’t come home, so please, if you hear from her, reiterate that?” Her oldest child, Euphemie, was in New York City with her boyfriend, Josh, who was not only one of the finest young men she had ever met, but a perfect match for her strong-willed daughter. Josh’s resemblance to his father, Henry, in both looks and conduct, had taken her by surprise when she ran into him last summer. Seeing Josh with Euphemie highlighted how differently her own life could have gone had she chosen another path as a young woman.

“Okay, don’t worry, I’ll let her know.” Hamilton squeezed her shoulders. “Mom, are you sure you don’t want anything? You said yourself that this was good news about Dad.” Taking one of his hands, she placed it on her cheek. Her golden boy, as Euphemie always called him, but he’d been her second chance at being a mom and getting it right, the way she never had with her daughter, always too concerned she was failing her. Ten years younger than his sister, Diadema reckoned she and Burnside had been too lenient with Hamilton, who had taken longer to find his way, unlike capable, self-sufficient Euphemie. Although she supposed there had been that nasty business with her daughter’s first husband, a man who couldn’t control his nether regions. None of that to worry about now. Josh, as Euphemie’s partner, would never stray. As for Hamilton, he had found his calling and was on his way to becoming a social worker after enrolling in Beverley Community College last fall.

She’d silenced her phone before coming into the hospital room, and it buzzed in her purse so loudly she worried the sound would wake her husband. Grabbing her bag, she stepped out into the hall. Pressing her forehead to the cool, sage-colored wall, tenuously holding back the emotions of the past day, she answered her best friend’s call. “Nora.” The one person who had shown up for her, no questions asked, for longer than she deserved. Aware that she rarely deserved her unwavering devotion, Diadema was nonetheless grateful for it.

“DD, how’s Burnside?” Nora’s question broke her.

Unable to imagine life without him, she cried, “Nora, I can’t lose him. Not again. Not after Nathaniel.” Burnside had loved her, rescued her, when she had been at her lowest, after losing the man she considered the love of her life. Nathaniel LeBeau had been gone for so long now that she could almost convince herself that loving him had been a dream, if not for their daughter. They were both students when they met at Black Hills State University thirty-eight years ago. Attending that college had been one of her rebellions after her parents pushed her to attend South Dakota State University, where she would be closer to home, thus remaining under their ever-watchful eye. Despite her parents considering it a pedestrian career, Diadema wanted to be a teacher, and BHSU was renowned for its teaching program. From their first meeting, Nathaniel had seen through her bluster and vanity, helping her realize she could be free of the restraints of her overbearing and toxic parents, who only focused on what she couldn’t be and what she shouldn’t do. Their romance had burned hot, inflaming them both, and the couple married while still in college, much to the consternation of both sets of parents. A member of the Lakota tribe, Nathaniel had grown up on the Grass Valley Reservation, and wary of the fallout, his parents had tried to dissuade him from marrying a white woman from a wealthy family. For their part, Diadema’s parents had lived up to the racist stereotype that Nathaniel’s family had feared.

“No, DD, don’t think like that. Burnie has a medical condition. He isn’t Nathaniel.” No, he wasn’t, because a car accident had taken her precious husband from them when Euphemie was just five, sending Diadema into a tailspin of insurmountable grief. Compounding everything had been her ill-advised decision to take their daughter and move from Grass Valley, where they had been thriving, to Clover Lake, placing them back under the controlling thumbs of her parents. Immersed in her own pain, Diadema failed to comprehend how her parents had been treating Euphemie, who, according to their ideologies, had a little too much Native blood surging through her veins. Once their daughter and granddaughter lived with them, leaning on them emotionally, and more importantly, financially, her parents had no reason to keep their prejudices at bay.

“He saved me, Nora. After Nathaniel, I wanted to die.” Not even her daughter, who resembled her father too much in looks and temperament, brought her comfort, only served as a constant reminder of all that she had lost.

“I was so worried about you, especially after your parents sent you to live with your aunt in Ohio. You were all alone, and I missed you so much.” Unable to escape her anguish, hoping that a change of scene would help her heal more quickly, Diadema had welcomed the plan set up by her parents.

“And then I met Burnside.” After a year in Ohio, her aunt introduced her to a man from her church. Older than Diadema by about fifteen years, he was wealthy, white, and a widower, having lost his own wife the year before as well, and possessed every requirement needed in a second husband, according to her parents. “We healed each other. I love him as much as I loved Nathaniel,” she sobbed. “Our romance may not have been as explosive, but I didn’t need that a second time. He’s steady and responsible.” She blew her nose, confessing something she found difficult to put into words, “Sometimes I wonder if I deserve him, Nora. I’m so selfish. Judgmental.”

“Stop,” Nora’s tone was firm. “You can be, yes, but you never give yourself enough credit for your better qualities. I wouldn’t have been friends with you for fifty years if you weren’t worth it. You’re my bold, beautiful, larger than life best friend. I love you.”

She sniffed. “I love you, too.”

“Do you want me to come home? George has our bags ready to roll out of here. Just say the word.” Nora and George had gone to Lake Tahoe for the holidays, where the Livingston family had a cabin, and she appreciated her friend’s offer, particularly because her best friend’s husband barely tolerated her. But who could blame him after the way she’d treated his brother? It was second nature for her to see how far she could push Nora, but part of Diadema felt she was owed something. After all, fate had smiled upon Nora, granting her a lifetime with her first love, and for that, she’d always been slightly jealous.

“No, no, I have Hamilton here. Oh, the nurse is coming. I’ll talk to you later.”

Vowing to do whatever the doctors advised for Burnside’s health, even if that meant no more cigars or alcohol, she trailed the nurse into his room. Her husband’s fondness for port allowed her to indulge in a vodka martini (or two or three) every night, a habit that was getting increasingly out of control.

Carrying more bags to hook up to Burnside’s IV stand, the nurse introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Anna, and I’m sorry, Mrs. Van Holland, but would you mind waiting a few more minutes? I’m just going to do a bit of housekeeping in here. Get your husband cleaned up a bit and change his gown.”

“Of course.” She noticed the nurse’s eyes trailing Hamilton as he swaggered from the room. An attractive young man, her son possessed a glow that caught the attention of all kinds of women. Yet, he was choosing to have a relationship with an older woman who lived on the East Coast. The two had met at the party Josh had thrown for Effie at the end of the summer. This new girlfriend, or whatever phrase they were using, was the sister of Ruth Mills’ husband, and so far her only redeeming quality was having a pediatrician for a brother.

In the hall, Hamilton flashed his phone. “Texted Effie. She’s worried about you, Mom.” Part of her wished Josh and Euphemie were here, of course, since Josh, a surgeon, could communicate more coherently with Burnside’s medical team. Even though they were in New York City, he’d been a blessing, explaining everything over FaceTime.

“Thank you, baby, but I’ll be fine. I’m just so worried about your dad.” Her son enfolded her in a hug, his tall frame bending to do so.

The nurse came out of the room. “Okay, all done. He just got another sedative to make sure he will be fully rested. We always suggest the family rest when the patient does. Let me know if you need anything.” A smile from Hamilton had the nurse blushing as she pushed her cart down the hall.

Powerless, Diadema sighed. “Maybe I will step out for a bit. Go across the street to the diner. Can you stick around in case your dad wakes up, or the doctor comes?”

Hamilton kissed her goodbye, assuring her that should anything happen, he would summon her back to the hospital. After grabbing her purse from the windowsill and her coat from the chair, she sunk her fingers into the fur lining the hood and collar. One benefit of marrying Burnside had been his bank account, a fact she’d never denied. She’d grown up wealthy, and moving to the reservation after she and Nathaniel graduated from college had been a shock to her system. At first, the poverty-steeped parts of the reservation disconcerted Diadema. But then she began to appreciate the stunning beauty of the land. Determined to build a life with her husband there, she’d not only gotten used to it, she had appreciated everything she had more. Cut off from her parents, the newlyweds lived solely off their incomes: she taught third grade, and Nathaniel worked for the tribal police. Back then, she imagined she would live there happily ever after. Until her husband’s accident upended her world. Her in-laws had blamed her, and she’d denied it, but deep down she had always believed that she was the reason Nathaniel died. He and a few friends had just arrived at a bar to celebrate his acceptance into the criminal law program at the University of South Dakota when he got a call that Diadema, six months pregnant, was having a miscarriage. In his haste to get to the hospital, he had misjudged a hairpin curve on a dirt road, one he’d driven a thousand times, and crashed his car into a tree. Nothing in her life had prepared her for how to live with the guilt. So she had stopped trying.

Sidestepping snowdrifts on her way to the diner, guilt ate at her again, this time about what more she could have done to ensure the health of her second husband. Shivering against the cold and her invasive thoughts, walked into the diner and requested a table by the window facing the hospital. The hostess led her to a small booth, and after perusing the menu, Diadema decided on a turkey club sandwich and a side of cheese curds. What the hell? she thought. Why not have some breaded and deep-fried balls of cheddar? She wasn’t the one with angina, after all. When the waitress took her order, she added a Bloody Mary as well, hoping the hit of alcohol braced her for the remaining afternoon.

“Bloody Mary? DD, it’s barely noon.” Instantly recognizing the gentle voice, she flushed as she looked up. Henry Livingston. Another regret in her life, but not for the reason most people probably speculated. They likely imagined she regretted using him to make her senior year boyfriend, Dirk, jealous after he dumped her right before prom, but that wasn’t the case, although she wasn’t proud of it. Henry asking her to the prom hadn’t been her diabolical plan. In fact, he’d dumbfounded her by suggesting they go to prom together. As teenagers, she’d been cognizant of his eyes following her, blatant longing so easily read in their blue depths whenever she allowed herself to exchange a glance with him. Had she played games with him on prom night? Maybe, like riding with Nora and George, inferring to them that she’d prearranged everything with Henry, but she hadn’t done that out of cruelty. If anything, she had been generous—she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about them. Ironically, she’d been the one getting ideas during their slow dances together, allowing Henry to hold her closer and closer each time. Toward the end of the evening, it had been Diadema closing the gap between them, even wrapping her arms around his neck for their final dance, resting her head on his strong and sympathetic shoulders. After he dropped her off at home, as the sun was almost rising, she noticed the Eiffel Tower he had carved. Holding it made it impossible to deny the breadth of his emotion…and hers. Afraid of the vulnerability he exposed in her, and unable to face the fact that she would never live up to whatever it was he saw in her, she called Dirk that following afternoon. Her biggest regret was not believing that the DD in Henry’s eyes was the true Diadema.

To Henry now, she responded dryly, “You know what they say…it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With his generous blue eyes oozing sympathy, he slid into the booth across from her. Of course, Josh would have filled him in about Burnside. Or her daughter had, considering how fond she was of Josh’s dad, almost clinging to him as the father figure she’s been missing in her life. As a child, Euphemie hadn’t bonded with her stepdad the way Diadema had hoped, only growing closer this past year.

“I’m so sorry about Burnside, DD.” Henry’s blue eyes exuded sympathy. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. We’re family now.”

With her Bloody Mary in hand, the waitress reappeared, and Diadema gratefully accepted it. A large gulp helped keep her tears at bay. Momentarily, anyway, until she looked into the summery eyes of the kindest man she had ever known. Too good for her even now as only a friend, just as her mother had warned her the afternoon of prom, when she had advised her against waiting for Henry to pick her up: “He’ll get the wrong idea, Diadema. That boy is too smart, too driven. Too good for you, even if he doesn’t have money like us.” If she’d been ready for him as a teenager, her life would have gone differently, but it was his goodness that had made her ready to love Nathaniel; if not for Nathaniel, she would not have Euphemie.

Under his empathetic gaze, her floodgates opened. “Henry, I don’t know how to do any of it—not our life, not his business. What if something else happens to him? I’m not even sixty. I can’t be a widow again.” She collapsed into her hands, pressing them to her face to staunch the tears.

He rose from his seat and crossed to her, balancing himself on the edge of her booth seat before wrapping his arms around her. “I’m here, DD…whatever you need, I’m here.” Leaning into him, she allowed herself to be comforted by the first man who truly loved her.

Chilly evenings, abundant snowfall, and the holidays marked the passing of time for Charlotte. She had stayed in Beverley for Thanksgiving, hosting Isobel and Amy, but for Christmas, she traveled to Sioux City. Originally intending to stay for a few days to see other friends, a winter storm moving in from the west made Charlotte cut her time in Iowa short, and she’d gotten back to Beverley early the night before. Still in the holiday spirit, and invigorated by the weather, she treated herself to brunch at Betsy’s and had just ordered when Diadema walked in. Hope swelled upon Henry’s entrance, until he stopped at Diadem’s table.

From the far corner, Charlotte sank low into her booth, shutting her eyes against the sight of Henry next to Diadema. Unbelievably, she hadn’t seen him since the evening in his shop when Isobel had found her. She had anticipated another encounter with him when she picked up her car the following day, but when she and Isobel arrived that afternoon, just five minutes after two, he wasn’t there, a discovery that disappointed her. Although she longed to ask where he was, she felt awkward and restrained herself from doing so. If he had wanted to see her, wouldn’t he have been there? Charlotte wasn’t the only one discouraged with the outcome of events; Trixie had called her later that week asking how everything had gone with Henry.

Thoughts of him consumed her, alone at night, underneath a blanket knitted by her grandmother: soft blue eyes searing into hers, calloused fingertips coursing fire on her skin, solid body emanating heat she longed to possess. She assumed he’d been as interested in her as she was in him, but if that were the case, he would certainly have reached out. Wouldn’t he? After convincing herself that perhaps it was for the best, she stayed busy with the drama department and her students. Wasn’t this what she had longed for: life as an unencumbered woman? Charlotte had amassed a wonderful collection of friends, enabling her personal life to be as active as she wished. When her mind flashed to Henry and her body’s awareness of him, the still winter nights made dreaming of him inevitable, and she woke up sweaty, blankets tangled around her thighs and hips far too often to deny her longing.

Her stomach clenched as the scene unfolded between Henry and Diadema. What was between them? Across the expanse of the diner, Charlotte easily read the care on his face as he held her, and despite Trixie’s insistence that her brother wasn’t interested in Diadema, they seemed quite close. Could their past be more complicated than Trixie thought? Could Diadema be the reason Henry hadn’t been there the day she picked up her car? Just her luck that the only man to make her body sing in response to a simple touch could be off-limits. Fighting unwelcome tears of frustration, Charlotte wanted nothing more than to go home, and wondered how to so as unobtrusively as possible, when Sissy appeared with her breakfast—blueberry pancakes, sausage links, and two over medium eggs, all arranged as if her food were smiling at her; however, she was in no mood to return the smile. Pushing her plate aside, she took her phone out of her pocket to text Amy.

Charlotte

At the diner.

Henry is here.

Amy

Make your move, Lottie!

A fine man like that won’t be available too long.

Charlotte

Well, I’m not sure he’s available at all.

He’s with that woman, DD.

Amy

Ooh, nasty Charlotte…

I thought she told you, under no circumstances, were you to call her DD.

She is Diadema only!

Am I spelling that right?

Charlotte

Well, she annoys me.

I figure I can annoy her back, even if she is unaware!

Amy

Go, girl!

Anyway, I thought his sister told you DD was nothing to worry about.

Charlotte

She did, but he is sitting next to her in a tiny booth.

Weird, right?

Oh, wait, now he just moved back to the other side.

But his hand is reaching out…he’s holding her hand!

Amy

Maybe she’s upset about something.

She seemed like the high-strung type.

And from what you’ve said about Henry, that’s not what he’s into.

Torn, Charlotte bit her bottom lip, uncomfortable that she was a grown-ass woman acting like a teenager. Should she just walk over and say hi? Sitting immobile, watching them, certainly wasn’t making her feel better. Then she could just leave. Tossing a twenty-dollar bill on the table to cover her uneaten breakfast plus a tip for Sissy, she gathered her purse and coat and scooted to the edge of her booth. At that moment, Ruth walked in and, after a brief chat with the hostess, went over to talk to Henry and DD. Charlotte slunk into her booth. No way could she leave discreetly now, because Ruth had eyes like a hawk, and the last thing Charlotte wanted was to make small talk with Henry while he sat with DD. Sissy approached Ruth, pointing to the kitchen. Wait—was Henry leaving? He had his phone to his ear as he walked out of the diner.

Ruth then waved in her direction, which Charlotte half-heartedly returned, cringing when DD’s gaze met hers. After making a beeline for her table, Ruth greeted her, “Hi, Charlotte, Merry Christmas,” and then flagged Sissy for a cup of coffee. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you for that bread you made. It was so scrumptious.”

As part of a care package for Ruth after her second daughter was born, Charlotte had baked two loaves of bread and delivered them to her house. “Thanks. It was my grandma’s recipe.”

“And Sean hasn’t stopped raving about those jams, either. He’s obsessed. As soon as the weather is good, we’re going to drive out to the Hutterite colony to get some more.”

“Well, I picked those up at a farmer’s market, which I think will be starting up again in the spring.” Charlotte kept an eye on DD, who had gotten up from her table to walk to the door. Was she leaving, too? And where had Henry gone? “How’s the family?”

“Well, Arielle sleeps, eats, and poops, so she’s perfect. Eloisa is close to walking, so we will soon have a toddler on our hands. Sean, as usual, is brilliant.” Ruth took a sip of coffee, then asked, “How was your holiday?”

“Very nice. I went to Iowa to see my daughter and Amy, but I had to come home early because of the storm.”

“I’m sorry your time was cut short, but I’m glad you’re back,” Ruth told her. “Sean’s mom and sisters are in town, so we have a houseful. Poor Sean, all that estrogen. He’s always so relieved when my dad comes over. Takes the edge off slightly.” Ruth had mentioned once that her husband’s dad had passed when he was a teenager. “I came over to get some breakfast sandwiches for everyone. Have you heard from Effie since she’s been in New York?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, why?”

“Oh, her stepdad had what they thought was a heart attack. Josh called Sean at the hospital, asking what surgeon was on call last night. Turns out it was a case of angina, but still pretty severe.”

“Poor Effie,” Charlotte sympathized, having had her own struggles when her parents were in ill health.

“Yeah, I know. I was just asking Henry and Diadema how everyone is doing.”

Confused, Charlotte asked, “I’m sorry—how are Henry and DD involved?”

“DD? You mean Diadema?”

Charlotte grimaced. “Yes, sorry. That’s how she was first introduced to me.”

“Wow—calling her DD puts her in a new light,” Ruth grinned.

“Well, I’m not sure she likes it, because she corrected Trixie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Well, regardless what she’s called, you do know that she is Effie’s mom, right?”

Now everything was beginning to make about why Henry and DD seemed so close. Suddenly, Charlotte’s appetite perked up, and she poured maple syrup on her pancakes and dug into her eggs with renewed vigor. As Sissy brought around coffee refills for them, Henry re-entered the diner, and Charlotte’s pulse raced accordingly.

Ruth lifted a strawberry-blonde eyebrow at Charlotte. “So…back to Henry. Do you know him?”

She stammered, “Well, I…I…I’m not sure if know is the right word, but we have met a few times.” She would definitely like to get to know him, very much.

“Ah, I see.” With her eyebrow raised, Ruth wore a small smile. “You know…he’s single. And just about the sweetest man in the entire world, including my husband and dad. And Josh, of course, who’s grown sweeter with Effie in the picture.”

Charlotte remarked, “Henry and DD looked pretty close before you came in, like they were having a moment.”

“Yeah, she’s quite upset about Burnside. Sounds like he’s going to make a full recovery, though. Henry was probably just comforting her. That’s how he is, and they go back a long way.”

Heart sinking, Charlotte said, “Yeah, I heard they went to school together.”

Ruth lowered her voice. “Effie once mentioned to me that, according to Diadema, she and Henry almost dated as teenagers. Other sources, though, say that dating is an exaggeration and that he just had a crush on Diadema. And it sounds like she was kind of a…bitch, for lack of a better word.” Ruth wrinkled her nose. “Have you met Cait yet?” Charlotte shook her head. “Okay, Cait is one of Josh’s cousins, and she told me that Diadema broke Henry’s heart. She said something about using him as a date for prom to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, then she dumped him the day after. And Cait should know, because her mom is BFFs with Diadema.”

“Oh, you mean Nora?”

“Yeah, Nora. Around here, who you know is not seven degrees of separation, more like three.” Ruth leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “I will say that Henry is a catch, and there are plenty of women in this town who tried to date him after his wife left.” Charlotte cast a glance at Henry, who looked like he was in a serious conversation with DD. Was there anything deeper there than friendship?

“Can I ask you something? Tell me if I’m out of line, though.”

Ruth gave a giggle. “If you knew the number of times I was out of line with people, you wouldn’t even have to ask. Fire away—I live for the free exchange of information.”

Should she ask? Maybe it was too personal? But curiosity prompted her. “I don’t really know anything about his wife—what happened?”

Ruth became somber. “She left Henry and Josh when Josh was twelve. Just out of the blue one day. This was when they still lived in Clover Lake. A couple of years later, they moved here to Beverley. That’s when Tess and I met Josh. The thing is, it totally messed them up because both Henry and Josh let everyone in Beverley believe Melanie died. I guess Henry thought people would ask less questions about a wife who died instead of one who abandoned them.”

Charlotte couldn’t imagine the pain Henry must have experienced. And then having to explain it to his son must have been a double punch. “That’s terrible. And Josh never saw his mom again?”

Ruth shook her head. “No—never heard from her either. Tess and I didn’t even know that Josh’s mom was alive until this past summer, actually. It was part of how he grew emotionally after Tess broke up with him. Effie helped him face the pain from his past.”

“Poor Henry. And poor Josh, too.” Stoic, careful, thoughtful Henry. How did someone leave a man like that? And how was he still alone? He was the kind of man who burned, silently, and Charlotte imagined that deep down, he was passionate, intense…erotic.

“Yeah, out of all the men out there, Henry did not need or deserve that kind of torment. I mean, the man makes the best coffee in town. So yummy.” Yes, yummy was one way Charlotte would describe Henry, studying him over her own cup of less-than-stellar coffee, but now she had other adjectives as well: tragic, steadfast, survivor. His underlying strength was what had drawn her in from the beginning.

“Ruth!” someone called from the front counter.

“Oh, there’s my order. Better get home before my in-laws get restless.” With a wave, Ruth was off.

Henry, Henry, Henry. What was she going to do, after discovering the pain that life had caused? As empathetic as she was, his past made things more difficult for her pursuit of him, though. His complicated history with DD could prove too powerful, worrisome even, not to mention what happened with his ex-wife. How does one recover from that? Once again, her eyes sought Henry, and to her astonishment, he was gazing intently at her while tracing his lower lip with his finger. Desire unlike any she had experienced before blazed through her, burning her nerves. What would it be like to have his mouth on hers, his hands stroking her, his body pinning hers? Sex with Brady had ceased being exciting once they were married, when the taboo of teenagers sneaking around had worn off. How would it be with a man who aroused her across a restaurant? Her ringing cell phone broke into her fantasy, and when she saw the caller, she landed harshly back into reality.

“Merry Christmas, Brady,” she greeted her ex-husband. “I’m sorry we didn’t see each other when I was there.”

“Me, too, Char. Harmony was looking forward to meeting you.”

Charlotte’s eyes still on Henry, she replied, “I guess that makes us thoroughly modern, huh, meeting new partners.”

“I’m glad you brought that up, actually. What’s this I hear about some guy from an auto shop?”

Dropping her gaze, she asked, “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

“Well, our daughter informed me that you’re interested in some mechanic there? That you took your vehicle to him a couple of months ago? “

Annoyed, she snapped, “I’m sorry, but how is this any of your business?”

“I would just hate to see you move too fast into anything. Plus, a mechanic is the kind of guy who might take advantage of a single woman. These guys tell women they need all kinds of work done on their cars, but in the end, they’re just racking up a bigger bill.” Confused, she wondered if Brady cared about her personal life or her wallet? Neither was any of his business. “Didn’t you have the Jeep checked out before you moved?”

“I did,” Charlotte informed him with exaggerated calmness. “It wasn’t my Jeep, it was the Tempest.”

Brady scoffed, “You can’t tell me you’re driving that old car around, are you? Char, you know it’s not safe! I understand that you’re sentimental about it, but be realistic! What if it breaks down on you somewhere? Aren’t you concerned about your safety?”

“For your information, I never take it out of town and only drive it around Beverley. All it needed was a new battery. And I’ll say it again, but it’s not any of your business.” When they were married, she had resented his criticism of the Tempest, but grudgingly put up with it. Not anymore.

“Who cares if you drive it around Beverley! That’s the middle of nowhere! I still don’t know why you moved all the way over there.”

“How dare you, Brady! You got to start over, with your new girlfriend. I believe I am afforded the same opportunity. You have no right to question me, my actions, or anything else!”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“Well, don’t be. Professionally, Henry has taken great care of my car. Isobel met him, and she thought he was nice. Respectful.” In fact, her daughter often asked her why she wasn’t “exploring things” with him.

“Yeah, she mentioned that. She may also have said he was extremely interested. So if he’s single and you’re single, what’s stopping you?”

“It’s not that easy, is it? I’m friends with his sister, and I’m pretty sure she tried to set us up. But I don’t know…I thought there was something between us, but nothing’s happened. It’s complicated.”

“Char, it’s okay to be hesitant. I mean, it’s hard knowing who might be attracted to you, or what their motivations are, especially at our age.” At our age? Was her ex-husband going out of his way to irritate her? “When Harmony and I met, you and I were still married and…what had you called it? Oh, right, slogging our way through.” Shame flooded Charlotte, regretting words she had spoken when frustration had a chokehold on her. Mistakenly believing that she was alone in feeling that way, she had many times bitten back suggesting divorce. “We just struck up a conversation. I had no way of knowing if she was interested, and I didn’t want her to think I was some lowlife scum, so I proceeded with extreme caution. Until you and I separated, when everything kind of…fell into place. It shocked me to my core, that feeling that I was alive, like I hadn’t been in years.” Charlotte recognized the sensation, because it was the same she experienced with Henry. “But if you are considering dating, maybe you should join one of those services first? You don’t want to go from three decades of being married to dating a man with issues, do you?”

Hanging up with Brady, his words had a ring of truth, especially as her eyes once again found Henry’s, over the shoulder of another woman he had once cared about…possibly still did. Was she ready to put her heart on the line and take a chance?

“Well, I’m glad you finally answered my calls again, Henry,” Melanie grumbled, her bitterness blatant over his cell phone. “I guess it only took a new phone number.”

Why the hell had he answered? Henry admonished himself, shivering in the vestibule of the diner every time someone entered or exited. After taking his brother’s advice, he’d had the foresight to block his ex-wife after she had called him the night of the state fair. His phone had remained blissfully free from her distressing texts and calls until now, when a new number flashed on his screen. Sitting at the table with DD, he answered it, concerned it could be one of his customers with an emergency. In the past, he’d rescued farmers stuck in fields with trucks that wouldn’t start, school buses stalled out on country roads, and just the other day the new vet in town was on his way to see a horse with a lame leg when he needed a quick tire fix.

“Melanie,” Henry tempered his exasperation, “do you know how peaceful these past few months have been? Not having to answer a call that I know is only going to aggravate me?” A sharp intake of breath didn’t deter him from adding, “I wouldn’t have answered now if I had known it was you, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“When did you get so cold, Henry? When did⁠—”

Henry cut her off. “Don’t start with what I’m doing wrong. Any reaction I have is based on what you have done. Let’s not rewrite history, making you the victim here.” The gall of her, putting any blame on him when she had been the one to leave. He wished he could be cold; he’d prefer that over the rage threatening to choke him. This stunt of changing her number was on brand for Melanie, who delighted in skirting around an issue as long as she got her own way in the end.

“Do you know how humiliating it was for me to have to tell your father that you were ignoring me?” Melanie grew quiet, and her sudden change in demeanor caused the hair on his arms to stand up. His ex never backed down, only got louder.

He retaliated, “Do you know how humiliating it was for me to tell my dad that you had abandoned his grandson? You knew how fond he was of you…thought you could do no wrong.”

“Maybe if you had given me some of that grace or understanding, things would have worked out differently.”

“And again, here we are…back to everything being my fault.” Rubbing his arm to keep at least that part of his body from freezing, Henry was about to end this ridiculous call when the inside door opened.

“Henry, are you coming back in?” Concern furrowed DD’s brows.

“Who’s that?” Melanie demanded, and he tensed, worrying that she would recognize DD’s voice. During their marriage, one of her issues was Henry’s teenage infatuation with DD, despite his repeated assurances that there had been no one else for him since the day they met in Arizona. Her attitude worsened when DD returned from Ohio with a brand-new husband, with constant digs about how old he was, how DD only married him for his money, and how Melanie swore the other woman couldn’t keep her eyes off Henry whenever they were in the same place.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Henry told DD, who nodded, turning back into the diner. To Melanie, he said, “None of your business. Are we done here?”

“I see you’re back to your old tricks, huh, Henry? You think I don’t know that voice? Don’t know that your dream woman is the mother of our son’s girlfriend? William told me all about it. He also said that her husband isn’t well.” Henry loved his dad, but sometimes he wished he would keep a tighter lid on all information. “I bet she can’t wait to make you husband number three-”

“Okay, I’m done. My personal life is none of your business.”

“Oh, so your personal life concerns her? I knew it, years ago. She played hard to get when you wanted her, but when you were unavailable, that’s when she wanted you.”

Her audacity shook him. “Need I remind you that you’re the one who left? You walked away without a backward glance!”

“Don’t believe for a minute that I never looked back! I did! I still do! That’s why I called⁠—”

“No, I’m not doing this,” he hissed. “I’ve got to go.”

“To her, you mean, right?” And then he hung up, taking a minute to slow his racing heart, furious with himself for letting her get to him.

Head down, he reentered the diner, only looking up as he slid back into the booth. Anger gave him more velocity this time, so he found himself all the way in the booth, with his shoulder next to the window. A slight movement caught his attention, pulling it until landing on Charlotte. How long had she been there? How had he not noticed her until now? None of that mattered because she was all he saw now. Entranced, with everything in slow motion, he instantly forgot about Melanie, automatically tuned out DD, and instead feasted his eyes on Charlotte. Until Ruth walked by, waving on her way out of the diner. With Charlotte in his direct line of sight again, Henry did his damndest to pay attention to DD, but it proved impossible. His eyes locked with Charlotte’s, and his finger rubbed his lip unconsciously. Charlotte flushed. She was breathtaking, unlike any woman he had ever known, with her grace and easygoing manner. The day she’d dropped her car off at his shop, too long ago now, had left him wanting more, and he had looked forward to talking with her again. The day she was picking up her car, he’d gotten to the shop early, installed a new battery for her and, after a thorough inspection of the Tempest, was satisfied it was in top running condition. Anticipating her arrival later that afternoon, his smile vanished the moment his parts distributor in Sioux Falls called. With two of his employees on vacation, the shop was short-staffed, and Henry was the only one available to make the trip. Even though he made it to Sioux Falls and back as swiftly as possible, he had missed her by about ten minutes, according to Juan. His friend relayed how Charlotte’s smile had faded upon hearing that Henry was out, but encouraged him to call her. Juan made it sound easy, but every time he tried, he failed. Everything he thought of saying to her fell flat to his own ears, and he was too humiliated to ask anyone for guidance.

Not helping matters was his sister, who, visiting him out of the blue one day, asked not-so-subtly if her new “friend” had brought her car in. Blushing as Trixie hid a sly smile behind a steaming cup of coffee, he confirmed Charlotte had dropped her car off. When that was all he would confirm, his sister asked him what he thought of Charlotte. What could he say? That he thought she was magnificent? That he found himself undeniably attracted to her? That he was drawn to her? That he longed to taste her mouth with his while inhaling her beauty until it filled him? He hadn’t…he couldn’t. He just grunted in response and answered the shop phone when it conveniently began ringing.

Forcing his attention back to DD, who was using alcohol to quiet her fears about Burnside, he wondered how much she was drinking these days, a habit that, unfortunately, wasn’t new. In their small hometown of Clover Lake, a secret was virtually impossible to keep, and DD’s day-drinking had progressed over the past few years, the news making it the forty miles over to him in Beverley. Which was why last night, after first hearing about Burnside from Josh, his initial instinct was to contact her personally to offer his support. He had hesitated, though, remembering her overly-friendly behavior at the fair last summer. Despite this, a lifetime of caring about her had him texting his son this morning, asking after the Van Holland family. Finding DD alone at the diner had surprised him, and even though the hospital was right across the street, she had worn a dazed look, as if she was unsure how she’d gotten there.

While he watched her peel apart her turkey club sandwich, cringing as she tossed aside both the lettuce and the tomato, he ordered a strawberry malt from Sissy when she passed by the table. “Ice cream in the dead of winter?” DD shook her head, the brittleness on her face giving way to a small smile. “Henry, you’re no better than a teenager,” she chastised. “So who was on the phone that had you looking like you could eat fire?”

Not in a million years would he discuss Melanie with DD. Instead, he redirected her. “You mentioned something about Burnside’s business?”

After popping a cheese curd into her mouth, she said, “Yes. I was looking through his files last night after I got home. Henry, what will I do if I have to take care of everything? I don’t have a knack for any of that. I don’t know business, or stocks and bonds. I was a teacher, but a million years ago. Hamilton could help, I guess, but he’s so busy with his college courses.” Aside from that, unless the young man had been privy to his father’s business, as Henry had been from an early age, he would be in over his head. “Maybe you could come over to Clover Lake tomorrow and help me understand what I’m looking at?”

His strawberry malt arrived, and a sip of the frozen concoction hit the roof of his mouth, making him see stars. Closing his eyes to recover from the freeze, his brain warned him that agreeing to DD’s plan was a terrible idea, and not just because Henry wasn’t exactly sure what Burnside’s business was. As the headache receded, he opened his eyes again, calmer once Charlotte filled his vision, her glossy brown waves tumbling over her shoulders, brushing her ivory-colored cable-knit sweater. Her warm brown gaze captured his, until guilt crept in for ignoring DD, who was watching him expectantly. “I don’t know, honestly. I manage my own books at the auto shop, but my knowledge about business management begins and ends there. What about Nora?” His sister-in-law’s family owned a string of successful car dealerships located throughout eastern South Dakota, and Nora was the operations manager for the company.

“Henry, be serious.” DD rolled her eyes. “Nora has enough on her plate.” As if he didn’t? “Please, I need you.” With an uneasy knot forming in the pit of his stomach, he could see he had no choice but to agree to help her, as much as he was reluctant to. “I guess I can see what I can do-”

Rising from her seat, DD came over to him, bending to hug him, her cloyingly heavy perfume completely enveloping him. Thankfully, her phone rang. “It’s Hamilton.” This time, it was DD’s turn to take a phone call in the vestibule. Seizing the opportunity, Henry strode over to Charlotte, whose eyes, the color of melted milk chocolate, widened when she looked up.

“Henry.” Her smoky voice almost buckled his knees. “Hi. I’ve been meaning to stop by the shop to thank you for sorting out my Tempest. I can’t believe it’s been two months already since…”

Her voice trailed off as a delicate finger traced the side of her water glass. The compulsion to pluck her from the table and take her to his house where he could taste the dampness on her fingertip made him only able to mutter, “Charlotte…” as he clutched the edge of her table.

“Would you like to have a seat? Here I am babbling away and you’re standing there.” With her honeyed voice, he’d be content to have her babble all day. Desire flared when her tongue darted across her full bottom lip, his mouth desperate to taste hers. His eyes never lost contact with hers as he sat down across from her.

“How have you been, Charlotte?” So close to her now, he thought of all the nights he had imagined her beside him, sharing a meal, a conversation, a stolen glance. Was there any chance she’d been as lonely as he had been during the holidays, despite being surrounded by people?

“I’ve been good. Busy, because of the holidays.”

Henry nodded. “Me, too. Merry Christmas, by the way.” He suspected she would be even more beautiful with the lights of a Christmas tree glinting in her hair or reflected in her glasses.

“Merry Christmas to you, too. And Happy New Year, I guess, since it’s going to be here before we know it. Never know when we’ll see each other again.”

Maybe this was his chance? Should he ask her out for New Year’s Eve? No, he chided himself, she probably already had plans. A woman like Charlotte wasn’t sitting around without a plan to ring in the new year. “I never got a chance to apologize that I wasn’t there.”

“Henry! Henry! Can you come now?” DD hailed him, marching toward him in her high-heeled boots as she held her phone over her head. “Burnside is awake. I thought maybe you could talk to him about all of this?” She shook her phone at him, and, swallowing a groan, he reckoned it was best to get “this” taken care of.

“Um, sure, I can do that. I’ll be right behind you.” A flash of annoyance on her face signaled her displeasure when he didn’t follow her immediately, but he stayed seated. She took the hint and left the diner. To Charlotte, he said, “I’m sorry about that. I promised her I’d help with something.”

“I understand.” The warmth in her gaze conveyed her sincerity. “Ruth told me that her husband is in the hospital. You should go.”

Reluctantly, he hoisted himself out of the booth. “I hope I’ll see you soon?” Should he just ask her out now? And then what? Rush out on her to help another woman? Even with his limited experience, he knew that wasn’t ideal. Her finger traced shapes in the condensation on her glass again, and he loathed to leave her. “I guess I should go.”

Her dark eyelashes were so long they brushed her lovely cheeks with every blink. “Call sometime—you have my number.” His mouth dried up with her words, and he promised himself that as soon as he got DD settled, he would call Charlotte. He would ask her out. He would hold her, sink his hands into her hair, taste her, everywhere. A last, lingering glance at her before he left the diner had him wishing he could stay with her.

By the time he exited, DD was on the other side of the street. Heavy traffic allowed Henry a moment alone with his thoughts. What would his son think about him dating again? Would he find it odd? Unexpected? He replied to a text Josh had sent about Burnside, and then, curious about his son’s reaction, he texted:

In other news, I have been thinking of putting myself out there, maybe joining a dating service? It’s so hard to meet someone when you’re my age.

Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long.

Love, Dad

Obviously, he wasn’t considering a dating site, not with his fascination with Charlotte, but how could he admit to his son, after so many years of being alone, that there already was a woman who had caught his attention? A woman so incredibly easy to talk to that he lost himself in the conversation. A woman whose smile stole his breath each time he saw her. Now that he had seen her again, he was even more determined.

Josh

What about that woman who brought her Jeep in? You said she stopped in another time, too? You kind of hinted there could be something there.

Or, Effie says she could fix you up with the high school English teacher…

Almost Forty Years Ago

Just outside Denver, Henry sent his first postcard home before choosing a spot at the foot of the Rockies to stay for his first night. Removing the tent he’d packed from his car, along with a sleeping bag and the food his mom and sister had packed, he set up camp. A rainstorm provided the soundtrack for the beginning of what he hoped would be his metamorphosis, sluicing away his humiliation from DD’s rejection. As the dawn broke through the clouds, the Rockies, stunningly unlike anything he’d ever seen in South Dakota, formed a barrier to his past.

In Utah, he mailed the second postcard home from Arches National Park. Because check-in at the Grand Canyon was ongoing the entire week, he seized the opportunity to remain an extra day, unable to pass up hiking around the sandstone formations. Pinnacles, spires, and sandstone boulders, all painted a deep, earthen rust by nature, emphasized Henry’s focus on his future. Contemplating the colossal universe twinkling overhead in the purple sky, he found comfort in the solitude and endless abundance of the cosmos.

Four full days of driving later, he arrived at the Grand Canyon, exiting at a scenic overlook on the highway to take it all in. Pushing his Minnesota Twins baseball cap off his head, Henry wiped his sweaty brow, memorizing every detail of the sweeping expanse so he could accurately describe it to his mom—the deep gorges with veins of blue and pink darting through them, the brightness of the sky in stark contrast to the red dirt clinging to the cuffs of his jeans. More spectacular in real life than any photo, he did his best to soak in the wonder. From the towering cliffs to the cavernous valley carved out by the Colorado River below, the landscape was something from another planet. The hues of the gorge in front of him made him wish he was a painter, able to capture something so vivid yet strikingly barren. Coughing as the wind kicked up a cloud of dust, Henry supposed he’d have to get used to the arid atmosphere as well, completely opposite from the humidity he’d left behind in eastern South Dakota.

To prepare for his road trip, Henry had loaded up one of his mom’s old pieces of Tupperware with his favorite cassettes. Fortunately, his dad had installed a tape deck in his car after warning him that FM radio reception would more than likely be spotty in places. AM radio only was definitely not an option, even though he’d gotten used to WNAX (“the oldest radio station in South Dakota, son,” his dad often reminded him) working at the auto shop. Hearing farm reports and Paul Harvey were not what he wanted driving across five states. One thing AM had going for it was the reception, and Henry tuned in to the station for his beloved Minnesota Twins game last night. This morning, to get his blood pumping for his arrival at the Grand Canyon, Henry exchanged Fleetwood Mac for Black Sabbath. Thanks to his older brother, he had honed his listening preferences early, steering clear of disco and the new wave that was becoming popular. His sister, a country girl through and through, lent him some of her collection, which included Alabama, Loretta Lynn, and Waylon Jennings.

The past four days, while tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along with whatever he was listening to, had given him plenty of time to think about college. He’d brought a few issues of the New England Journal of Medicine, The Lancet, and Scientific American, hoping to read through them before starting classes at USD in the fall. From as far back as he could remember, he had always loved science. Putting the pieces together, figuring out a diagnosis—his dad often remarked that was what made him invaluable at the auto shop, as well. That, and his patience when dealing with some of their more difficult customers, since farmers could be very sensitive about their aging pickups and machinery.

Back in his car, after retrieving his map from the front passenger seat, he trailed a finger along the road that led from his current location along Navajo Point to the southern rim. Half an hour later, he spotted a sign: “New Check-Ins right arrow” and made the turn to the Visitor Center.

Pulling into an enormous parking lot, Henry parked behind a red 1966 Chevy Camaro. Once out of his car, he admired the shine that a recent wax job had given the vehicle. “Like it?”

Turning, Henry looked at the young man standing behind him. Around Henry’s age, he was several inches shorter, with a mop of curly black hair, twinkling dark brown eyes, and a slight gap between his two front teeth. “Yours?”

“Yep. A little spit, lots of polish, but my dad and I rebuilt it over the past year. It’s the first model ever made,” the stranger informed Henry, beaming with pride.

Henry nodded, “I know. My dad has had his eye out for one of these forever.” He stuck his hand out. “Hi, I’m Henry.”

“Juan,” the young man shook Henry’s hand. “You know cars?”

With a smile, Henry shrugged. “Yeah. My dad has an auto shop. Well, technically, it used to be my grandpa’s shop.” Henry still missed his Grandpa George, who had suffered a massive heart attack when Henry was fifteen. His grandma, Mary, had found her husband of almost fifty years sitting in the front seat of his car, slumped over the steering wheel. “My dad runs it now, and my older brother works there, too.”

“Wow! That’s so cool! My dad and I were kind of guessing about everything when we restored this. He had all of these old manuals lying around in our garage at home. But I guess it all worked out because she got me here all the way from New York.” Juan lovingly stroked the driver’s side door.

“New York? Man, I drove from South Dakota, and I thought that was a haul.” Minnesota was as far east as Henry had ever been, when his family went to the Twin Cities for baseball games. His trek to Arizona had broadened his horizons both west and south.

“What about this view, though?” Juan swept an arm toward the vista. “You ever been to the Grand Canyon before?”

Henry shook his head. “No. It’s unbelievable. Have you ever been to the Badlands in South Dakota?”

“No, why?”

Henry advised him, “You definitely need to go there sometime. It has an otherworldly feel, like this, but different.” On a much smaller scale than the Grand Canyon, the Badlands were paler, more akin to the color of sand, with highlights of silver and peach.

“Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?” Henry shook his head. “Dude, check that out sometime. Froze my ass off there when I went, and got totally drenched, but man…there’s a lot out there to see in the world, I guess.”

Henry agreed. “Yeah, and I can’t wait to see it all.”

The boys ambled over to the line for the sign-in table, which curved around the parking lot. “I heard they’re still looking for at least a hundred more people to work. Seems like a bunch of people either quit or are no-shows,” Juan informed Henry. Yeah, he thought—like his best friends, who should be here with him now for the ultimate experience before college, which Henry supposed was more than likely off the table now, too, for his friends. There was no way Kyle would leave the farm his dad had broken his back to maintain, saving it from being sold off more than once. Kyle had planned to one day be the coach of the Clover Lake football team. Steve had been the only one of the three boys without a firm college plan, just some vague idea about taking some classes over at Beverley Community College until he figured out what he wanted to do with his life.

“Any idea where you’ll be assigned?” Henry offered Juan some of the chips from his backpack.

“Nah, man, I hear they kind of assess you when you get here. I’d love to lead tours while riding a donkey, you know? Did you ever see that episode of The Brady Bunch when they’re in the Grand Canyon? That’s why I came.”

Was he serious? Henry gaped at Juan, worried that he was here based on a TV show that was over a decade old. He hesitated momentarily before answering. “I’m not sure this is going to be like what was on The Brady Bunch.”

“No duh. I’m just sayin’—it would be fun. You should see your face—probably thought I was nuts. Although I did always have a thing for Marcia.” Juan scratched at his chin before he added, “But I wouldn’t throw Jan out of bed either. She’d have to get rid of those glasses, though.” Juan shuddered, visibly distraught at the idea of his dream girl wearing spectacles. “Anyway, my girlfriend is here, too, but she checked in this morning. She’s working at the hotel over there,” Juan pointed off in the distance. “We got here yesterday. Took us three days, with both of us driving, and we only stopped for gas. We actually skipped graduation to be here.”

An hour later, he and Juan were nearly at the front of the line. Henry was starving, so he searched his backpack for the last ham sandwich his mom had made for his journey. He offered half of it to Juan, and the two of them were just finishing their lunch when they were each called to adjacent check-in tables.

“Last name?” A guy wearing a name tag that said “Ben” looked over the top of his sunglasses. Henry guessed him to be a couple of years older,

“Livingston,” he replied. “Henry Livingston, from South Dakota.”

“Okay, Henry Livingston, here’s your name tag. You’re in dorm three, room three-ten. Work assignment is the gift shop at the main entrance. Show up there tomorrow morning at eight for your orientation, which will last all morning. You’ll have a lunch break, and then your training at the gift shop will begin in the afternoon.”

Gift shop? He had at least hoped he’d be working outside, soaking in the landscape. If he wanted to work indoors all summer, he could have stayed in Clover Lake, working at his dad’s garage. “Um, I was hoping maybe to work outside? Help with tours or something like that? I read about it in our newspaper.” The ad in the classifieds section of the Clover Lake Sentinel was why he was here. He’d just gotten his acceptance letter from the University of South Dakota and was circling the classes he planned on taking when the paper arrived. Struck by the idea of a summer-filled adventure, Henry had called Kyle and then Steve, cajoling them both into applying, too.

His disappointment must have been evident, because Ben told him, “Not everyone works outside, Henry. Most summer employees run the registers and stock the shelves.”

“Or bus tables,” Henry heard behind him. Juan held up his name badge. “I’m working in the restaurant,” he shrugged. “No donkeys for me, but at least I can work with Angie.”

“Look, you seem like a nice kid. Work hard, don’t goof off, and come back next summer. If you’re back a second summer, you can request where you want to work. It’s not always granted,” Ben warned, “but sometimes you get lucky.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Henry wasn’t afraid of working hard, and the idea of coming back next year was more motivation to do so, so he chose to remain positive. He turned to Juan. “Where are you staying?”

“Dorm three,” Juan replied, “room three-fifteen.”

“Cool! Looks like we’re neighbors.” After high-fiving, the boys retrieved their luggage. Henry’s was the duffel bag his dad had used when he was in the Army. William had served three years right out of high school.

Later that afternoon, when the boys went to the restaurant, Juan introduced him to his girlfriend, Angie, who proved to be as outgoing as her boyfriend. The three of them quickly became fast friends, and Henry settled into a routine at the Grand Canyon. He spent his time off hiking, reading, or hanging out with Juan, and he’d discovered that the gift shop was kind of fun to work in because he got to meet people from all over the world.

Exactly two weeks later, Henry’s life changed forever. On a joint day off, he and Juan drove to Flagstaff. Juan was looking for a new cowboy hat: “I want to fit in down here, so I figure that’s the way to go.” Henry wanted to check out a bookstore he had heard about that carried books on anatomy and diseases. “You know why I like hanging out with you, Henry? The conversation is never dull. You always have some interesting facts. Sometimes they’re gross, but they are never boring,” Juan told him on the trip. “Plus, you’re teaching me how to fix my own car, and that, my friend, is cool.” Juan’s car had given them a bit of trouble starting that morning, but Henry tightened some loose cables, showing his friend how to troubleshoot in the future.

Once in Flagstaff, Juan headed to the western store, and Henry to the bookstore, where he not only found several medical books but also two Michael Crichton novels. Having made his purchases, Henry was sitting on a bench outside the ice cream parlor, flipping through an illustrated copy of Gray’s Anatomy, when a Greyhound bus pulled up across the street. Maybe it was the whooshing noise of the bus’s door opening that drew his attention, or maybe it was just a shift in the atmosphere, but at the exact moment Henry raised his head, an ethereal vision stepped out of the bus into the sunlight. Golden blonde hair, shining almost white under the intense Arizona sun, cascaded down over a pair of feminine shoulders until ending at the waistband of a pair of jeans that accentuated the longest legs he had ever seen. From the tips of her toes, exposed in a pair of high-heeled sandals, his gaze traveled up, and his breath caught at her bare midriff peeking out. Not wanting to be a creep, he glanced away from her, but not before memorizing every detail of her. Until now, Henry had considered DD the most enchanting female alive, but this girl was in a different league. Desperately trying to distract himself, to center himself, to imprint any other image in his mind but her, he opened up Congo, one of the Crichton books he had just bought, but none of the letters made any sense.

“Excuse me? I’m wonderin’ if you can help me?” From the heavens, the voice came, smoother than honey. He clenched, some basic instinct telling him not to look, warning him he would regret it, somehow, someday; but for once in his life, Henry didn’t follow his instincts. Instead, he tilted his head back, staring into the face of an angel with stormy blue eyes, and vowed to himself to do whatever he could to make her happy.

Inside Shorty’s, where the decibel level on Charlotte’s smartwatch warned her she was in a noisy environment, Amy announced, “One Cosmo for you, and a Manhattan for me,” presenting the drinks to Charlotte with her usual flair. “Imagine if the weather had been this crappy last year when we were going to Deadwood. Would we have even made it as far as Beverley from Sioux City?” With snow falling outside at a steady pace, the women were celebrating their one-year anniversary of discovering Beverley.

“A Manhattan, huh? What’s the matter—were they all out of gasoline?” Charlotte teased her friend.

“Very funny, very funny. It’s not like your Cosmo is light on the booze, Lottie.” Amy sipped her cocktail before stuffing a handful of the bar’s popcorn into her mouth. “Do you ever think of fate, though? What if a blizzard had blown in last year? We probably would have scrapped the entire Deadwood plan and stayed in Iowa. You might never have started over at all.” The two friends should have been in Deadwood again for a weekend away during the school’s spring break, but just after Amy arrived at Charlotte’s house, the interstate heading west had closed, making their vacation a staycation—for Charlotte, anyway. “It is really coming down out there. I’m glad I left Sioux City this morning before this storm moved in.” Amy cleared her throat before continuing, “I would like to propose a toast: To Beverley!”

Charlotte raised her glass, clinked it to Amy’s, and repeated, “To Beverley!” She winced as she tasted her drink. Okay, one would definitely be enough for her, based on the alcohol burning down her throat. “I have to confess, I’m not all that broken up about having to stay here for the weekend.” She opened her menu to peruse her dinner options. “I’ve been working non-stop getting the drama department back to the glory days of what everyone around town tells me it used to be.” And she was doing her best, coaching students for the oral interpretation contests held in February, and directing the spring musical that would premiere in a month.

“And how is that going?”

Charlotte nodded. “I love it. My students are fantastic, and some of them are quite talented. Now that everything is fairly organized, it should all run a bit more smoothly next year.” She gingerly sipped her drink. “I’ve already started thinking about what performances we’ll do next year. And after asking the students for input about what books to read for class, I’m updating the curriculum to make it more diverse.”

Amy smirked. “Is this when I say, ‘I told you so’? You have such an energy now whenever you talk about work.”

“When you’re right, you’re right. Moving to Beverley has been good for me. I love my smaller classes; they really give me the opportunity to form meaningful relationships with my students.” Content with her professional life, she sighed, wishing she felt the same about her personal one.

“You must be tired, though. I’m sorry I never asked if you were too exhausted for this weekend.”

Across the table, Charlotte squeezed her friend’s hand. “No, no, I was looking forward to getting out of town, but this is fun, too. I’m just glad we’re together.”

“Always,” Amy responded with a wink. “Now, before we get all emotional from menopause, what is good here to eat?”

“This is the first time I’ve been here, but some of the staff at the school say the food is excellent. Paul told me that the steak and arugula flatbread is to die for.”

“Ooh, with the rhubarb vinaigrette? That does sound yummy. How about this chislic poutine?”

“Yes, I saw that, too! You know I’m a sucker for beer cheese.” Charlotte suggested, “Want to get both and share?”

Amy lowered her menu. “Excellent idea! How can people not recognize the Midwest as a culinary giant with these offerings?”

Laughing, Charlotte raised her glass. “To the Midwest!”

“Hear, hear!” After they ordered their dinners, Amy asked, “So now that we have established that you love living here, and your job is all you dreamed about, what about the other aspect? Don’t even try to deny anything; it’s written all over your face. And I also know that sigh earlier wasn’t about being tired.”

Charlotte groaned, dreading discussing the void that was her romantic life. “Well, you know I went on a date with Rob⁠—”

Amy shook her head. “Nope, don’t care about Rob.” Charlotte didn’t either, which was why she’d only gone on two dates with the single dad of a graduating senior. She had met him when she attended a prom committee meeting, one of her extracurricular groups required by the school for teachers. He had asked her out for coffee one Saturday afternoon and made a big production of not having his wallet, so Charlotte paid for his order. No big deal, but then the same thing occurred when they had gone out to the movies the following week.

“And then Ted and I went to the basketball game⁠—”

“Really don’t care about Ted. Who the hell thinks a college basketball game counts as a date, anyway? I mean, I know you met him at the dentist’s office,” Amy complained, “but please explain to me how someone waiting for the dentist is even more boring than the dentist?”

Instead of agreeing with her friend, Charlotte said, “Look, Ames, I love you, but if you’re going to criticize my dates, I will just keep them to myself.” Liar, Charlotte scolded herself. Confiding in Amy had been the only thing to prevent her from being depressed about her lack of romance.

Amy snorted. “Good luck with that! Anyway, what I want to know is: what about Henry?”

Avoiding Amy’s stare, Charlotte rested her gaze on the front door of Shorty’s, which had just opened, blowing in none other than a snowy Henry, his silvery blond hair dark from the wet snow, followed by Josh and Effie.

“You know…on the way into town, I drove by his shop, just in case I saw him. I find it curious that we didn’t go over to the coffee shop tonight, because I also saw they are doing an open mic night, and that sounds like something right up your alley.” Amy droned on, but the only man she wanted held Charlotte’s attention captive.

Henry slipped off his coat, laughing at something Effie said, before sliding into a booth across from Josh. How was he more attractive each time she saw him? She tingled everywhere and gawked as Henry plucked a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket. Charlotte gulped the rest of her Cosmo when he put them on to read the menu.

Their food arrived, breaking Henry’s spell on her. “I’m starving.” Amy transferred a slice of the flatbread to her plate along with a healthy serving of poutine. “I see him too, you know,” Amy gently told her. “Why don’t you just go over and say hi?”

Shame flushed her cheeks. “I can’t.” In the three months since they had spoken in the diner, she had waited hopelessly for him to call; when he didn’t, she tried to find ways to casually run into him, but had failed. Miserably. Instead, she thought herself desperate, like the time, a little over a month ago, she had called the shop, hoping by chance he would answer. Prepared with a follow-up question concerning her own Tempest, he had neither answered the phone nor been at the shop when she asked for him. “Over in Clover Lake helping DD”, a mechanic called Phil had informed her. Gathering her courage a few days ago, she went to his shop after school, late enough to ensure he might be alone. She had planned on suggesting they go around the block to the bakery, which served the most heavenly sandwiches: ham sliced so thinly Charlotte swore you could read through it, on crunchy, freshly baked baguettes with a heavy spread of butter. Just after opening his shop door, she heard a female voice trailed by male laughter. As quietly as she could, she closed the door and got back into her car, not even turning her car lights on until she had pulled onto Main Street. It was then that she noticed the newer model Mustang parked along the curb.

“I’m afraid my pursuit of Henry has run its course,” she said solemnly. “So has my hope that he will seek me out. Which, need I remind you, is why I tried dating Ted and Rob. I think the problem is me. I just don’t think I’m the dating type.”

“Hell no, you can’t say that, not after taking two half-assed dips in the dating pool, with men who only have one-syllable names. You know I don’t trust men with those names, especially when they’re only three letters!” Amy declared. “Damn, this beer cheese is good. I’m going to ask for more.” She rose and sauntered to the bar, where she flirted with a man in his late forties pouring a tap beer.

“Hey, Charlotte,” Effie greeted her, smiling down at her from above before bending to give her a quick hug. “I saw that article in the Beverley Bugle today about the oral interp competition. Why didn’t you say anything? Twenty students made it all the way to state? Very impressive.”

Charlotte blushed, not used to being written up in the newspaper. “Thank you. Everyone really worked hard. It feels like we see each other all the time but never have time to talk.”

Effie slid into the space Amy had vacated. “I know. How does that happen? It doesn’t help that I usually blow into musical rehearsals right from the library. They’re going so well, by the way. The musical is going to be phenomenal, but it’s impossible to chat when we’re surrounded by teenagers.”

“Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to ask after your stepdad. How’s he doing? Still working toward a full recovery?”

“Mostly, but his angina is a bit more serious than initially thought. Burnie’s under strict orders to not overexert himself physically.” Effie glanced behind her. “Thank goodness for Josh. He breaks down all the medical jargon for us. I’m so lucky to have him; he’s been so supportive about everything.” She had witnessed the younger couple together many times, and to say that Josh worshipped Effie would be an understatement. He hung on her every word, and Effie often had a story about some small act of thoughtfulness he had done for her. As Charlotte’s eyes landed on Henry, she wondered how he would treat a woman. Her, specifically, like in the haunting dreams she had of him almost nightly. Effie added, “And I’m super thankful for Josh’s dad. He’s been helping my mom with some paperwork for Burnie’s business. You know, all these years he’s been my stepdad, and I still don’t know what it is exactly he does. Something about stocks and bonds.” Effie sighed. “My poor mom. I’ve been more worried about her, truthfully, than Burnie. On her best days, she can be…shall we say…unhinged? I mean, I love her, but she is close to hysterical sometimes. Henry must have the patience of a saint, putting up with her.”

“Hey, ladies.” Amy returned, with a huge grin on her face. “You look like you’re in a deep conversation.”

“And you looked like you were having fun up there.” Effie pointed at the bar before standing.

Amy answered, “Well, thanks to this storm, we’re stuck here for the weekend instead of going to Deadwood. May as well make some new friends,” Amy winked, holding a cup of beer cheese in her hand. “Especially if I score more liquid gold.”

“I should get back to my guys,” Effie said, shooting a look over her shoulder at her table. “Just one more thing, Charlotte, and I hope this isn’t overstepping, but…I’ve been thinking about you and Henry. I think you two would be so well-suited. How would you feel about me setting you up with him?”

Charlotte panicked. Had someone around town seen her driving by the shop and told Effie about it? Maybe one of the guys in the shop gossiped about how she had asked after him the day she had picked her car up last fall? Was she still interested in Henry? Yes. Had she lain awake imagining his hands on her breasts? His mouth on her neck? His hips between her thighs? Had he awakened in her a sexual longing she’d never before experienced? Yes, to all the above, but she had enough self worth to not pursue someone who wasn’t interested enough in her to call her at any point during the past few months, or even come to her table tonight to say hi. “I’m just so busy, Effie. I don’t really have time for anything else, what with the musical coming up in a few weeks. And then school will be ending. Oh, and Amy and I are planning a trip to England this summer.”

Amy raised an eyebrow while Effie’s shoulders drooped. “Okay,” Effie said, “I just thought I’d try; I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Well, I’m glad we got to talk for a little bit, Charlotte. It was nice seeing you again, Amy. You two have fun.”

Once Effie was out of earshot, Amy asked, “So what’s this about us and a trip? I seem to recall when I brought up the idea you said you wanted to stay in Beverley this summer.”

Charlotte told Amy, “Well, I’ve been thinking it might do me good, especially since I’m teaching a lesson on The Canterbury Tales next year. It will be good to immerse myself in some medieval architecture and art.” Charlotte pushed a strand of hair behind her ear in frustration. “Besides, Henry’s attention is tied up.” Charlotte filled Amy in about Henry helping DD.

“And? That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have time or make time for you,” Amy said.

“The last thing I want to be is a burden or a distraction. I’ve already done that relationship. He’s clearly very busy…too busy for dating.”

“Well, that may be, but you have barely taken your eyes off him since he got here. And for all your talk that he doesn’t feel the same, he has watched you from the moment he sat down.”

“Okay, but if he is interested, wouldn’t he do something about it?”

“Maybe he is as uneasy about dating as you are. Give him a break, Lottie.”

But Charlotte knew it wouldn’t work. And she didn’t want to be anybody’s pity date. “Enough about him. Come on! Let’s take a big trip. We’ve always talked about going to England and exploring the Lake District, Northumberland, Yorkshire…”

“Say no more.” Amy’s eyes testified to their years of friendship. “Let’s do it!”

Relieved to have a plan occupying her thoughts, Charlotte grinned. “Didn’t you say you wanted to play pool? Let’s go to the back. I need a distraction.”

Amy squealed, “Yes! Roger told me he’s off his shift in ten minutes, anyway.”

“Roger? Who’s Roger?”

“Well, my friend, it all started with cheese sauce…”

In the booth at Shorty’s, Henry sat silently, staring across the bar at Charlotte, dumbfounded by her once again. He’d come out tonight with Effie and Josh for a relaxing evening after spending nearly every weekend sorting through Burnside’s accounts. At least he now understood that the other man’s work involved making and managing investments for a private equity group. Burnside attempted to help, but some of his medications made it difficult for him to focus, and he’d lost stamina from his several hospital stays. The mesmerizing sight of Charlotte made him forget all about the Van Hollands, though. Driven by an overwhelming need to talk to her, he had just flung his leg to the edge of the booth, seconds from getting up and going over to her, when Effie rose from her own seat, flying across the bar floor, greeting Charlotte like they were old friends. “I didn’t realize Effie and Charlotte knew each other.”

Josh, intent on stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, glanced over his shoulder at his girlfriend. “Oh, yeah, they met at the library after Charlotte moved here. And as if she doesn’t have enough to do, between the library and being a track coach, Effie’s been helping with the musical Charlotte is directing.” Josh had another unseemly large fistful of popcorn at his chin when he stalled, giving Henry a surprised look. “Why are you asking about Charlotte, Dad?”

“I just thought it was interesting that Effie went over there.” Did he sound casual enough, or would his son pick up on his yearning for Charlotte?

“Well, Effie talks to a lot of people when we’re out, but you’ve never asked about anyone else.” As Josh tipped his beer back, his eyes stayed on Henry until he slowly put the bottle down on the table. “For that matter, I’ve also never heard you ask about any woman. Ever. I’ve never seen you interested in one either. Until you told me you were going to start dating.” Henry flushed, wincing as he recalled his text messages last Christmas when he mentioned putting himself in the dating world. What was it that Josh had texted back then? Something about Effie knowing an English teacher she could set him up with. Almost as if could read his father’s mind, Josh said, “So, Dad, can I ask you how come you never went out on any dates after you brought it up? It’s been months, but you never mentioned it again. Never even heard another peep about the dating site you said you were going to use.”

Peeling his beer label from the bottle, Henry peeked at Charlotte, who was disappointingly oblivious to his existence, then looked away as Effie’s head turned towards them. “It’s just not easy, I guess, putting myself out there. Plus, the shop has been non-stop, and then traveling to Clover Lake? I barely have any time for my coffee roasting or woodworking. I still haven’t finished that bookcase I started for Effie in January.”

“What are you guys so deep in conversation about?” Effie placed another bowl of popcorn in front of Josh.

With his eyes, Henry begged Josh to not say anything about Charlotte. Distracted by his girlfriend’s hand on his shoulder, he pulled her down next to him and kissed her. “We were talking about my dad helping your mom, actually.”

“Oh, you must be relieved, huh? No more weekends spent driving back and forth to Clover Lake.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t Mom tell you, Henry?” He shook his head, and Effie clarified. “Hamilton’s been learning the ropes.”

No, DD had said nothing about that the last time he’d spoken with her, when she had stopped by the shop the other day after dropping Burnside off at the hospital for a stress test. “It’s so hard, Henry, seeing him so…frail. I feel so alone sometimes. Effie has her work and Josh, and now this book she’s writing, plus whatever else she gets up to in her free time. Hamilton is busy with his classes. And Nora is gone, again, with your brother, to Lake Tahoe,” DD pointed out to him, wringing her hands and wiping at her eyes.

Trying to lighten the mood, Henry cracked a joke about them taking so many vacations. “I feel like the only time I see my brother anymore is when they’re driving through Beverley on the way to the Sioux Falls airport.”

DD responded with a laugh containing too much gusto for the simple joke. “Burnside goes to bed so early that at night, I’m left rattling around the house, nothing to do but stream some god-awful show.” Giving Henry some coded message with her eyes that he didn’t understand, she looked out from underneath the dark brown fringe of her bangs, and his gut clenched ominously. The door to his office had, mercifully, remained open, but the silence from the shop had screamed a warning as DD placed a gift bag, festooned with tissue paper and ribbons, in his hand. “This is for you.”

It was a bottle of red wine, something Henry had gone his entire life without enjoying. “You shouldn’t have.” He deliberately checked his watch. “I’ve got to be heading out, DD.” He willed his phone to ring and would have welcomed a call from even his ex-wife at that point. Instead, he made an excuse about having to meet up with his nephew, Liam, and hurriedly ushered DD from his office.

“I think the most important thing for your mom,” Henry told Effie now, “is that she just has someone she can talk to.”

Effie sipped her beer before replying. “And that person can be me. Or Ham. Or her husband. I agree that we all need someone.” When Henry nodded in agreement. “What about you, Henry?”

“What about me?”

“Here we go,” Josh muttered, tossing a single piece of popcorn into the air before catching it in his mouth.

“What happened to you putting yourself out there?” Effie rubbed Josh’s arm while she studied Henry. “Last winter you said you were ready to start dating, but you never did. Did you change your mind?”

Had they planned to tag-team him, he wondered, as Effie practically echoed the words of his son from moments ago? Henry’s suspicion grew until Josh threw his hands up, claiming innocence. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t bring her up before.”

“Bring who up?” Effie’s amber eyes gleamed as they held Josh’s, who gave a blink-and-you-miss-it nod to Charlotte’s table. “Oh my god! NO!” Effie whisper-screamed. “Henry, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to set you two up,” she groaned.

Henry shook his head. “I hate to disappoint you, but⁠—”

“You’d be perfect for each other! How can I help?” The last thing Henry wanted, or needed, was Effie’s “help”. He wasn’t that desperate…was he?

“It’s better to just let her do it, Dad. You know the saying, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?” Josh dodged the napkin Effie threw at him and laughed. “Same concept.”

As she walked to the back of the bar where the pool tables were located, Charlotte consumed his attention. The enticing swell of her hips made his hands clench as he thought about the curves that pulled her jeans tight across her lower back.

“Dad? Dad? DAD!” Henry swung his focus back to Josh’s bemused face. “Why don’t you just go and talk to her?”

“I can’t. She’s with her friend, and I don’t want to interrupt. I’ve read that women don’t appreciate it if you approach them when they are with friends.”

Josh raised an eyebrow as high as it could go on his face. “You’ve read? What do you mean you’ve read? Like advice columns and magazine articles?”

Henry sighed, “I’m not completely out of tune with the world, Josh. Besides, she’s too young for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s not looking for a man in his mid-fifties, I’m sure. An attractive, younger woman? She’s probably looking to date someone her age. Could probably even go younger.”

“Henry, I don’t know what you’re talking about—she’s in her fifties, too,” Effie corrected him.

“She is?” She exuded such youth and vitality that Henry thought Charlotte was in her mid-forties at most.

“Yes,” Effie assured him. “I know for a fact she got divorced when she turned fifty.”

“I told him he needed to get out more, meet more women,” Josh stated, shoveling more popcorn into his mouth.

“No, you don’t. Henry, don’t listen to your son.” Effie tossed a popcorn kernel at Josh. “You just needed to meet the right woman. Honestly, in the darkest days of my marriage, I never even considered that one day I would allow myself to be vulnerable again. And you’ve been single for so long, I can’t imagine what your mindset is. I understand how awkward you might feel.”

Is that what he needed to do? Allow himself to be vulnerable? Henry demurred. “Well, I can’t pick her up in a bar, in front of half the town.”

“But you do want to ask her out, right?” He gave a small nod, and Effie continued, “Charlotte’s a really wonderful person, Henry, the kind who will appreciate any effort you put forth.” Effie reached across the table to put her hand over his. “There aren’t many women I consider worthy of you, but Charlotte is.”

“I agree with Effie, as always. In any way I imagine my mother, I am pretty sure Charlotte is the complete opposite.”

“Well, I don’t know that we need to bring the past into this, but Josh is probably right, from what I remember as a kid about Melanie.” Effie put her elbows on their table and folded her hands together. “This is weird to be talking about her.”

“Weirder than discussing my dad’s love life?” Josh asked. “Speaking of my dear mother, have you heard from her recently? Since she asked to meet up with you, that is?”

“No,” he replied, “not since the beginning of the year.” How long would that peace continue? How would he even discuss the topic of his ex-wife with Charlotte if they started dating? He wasn’t as modern as his son, who had introduced Effie to his ex, Tess, and now the two women were friends.

“Well, let’s hope she stays silent. The last thing we need is for her to keep bugging you when you’re trying to move on,” Josh told him.

After the night at Shorty’s, Henry kept an eager eye out for Charlotte around town. “You could just call her, you know,” Juan advised him daily. His oldest friend at this point in his life, it was difficult to believe that the boy he had talked cars with on his very first day at the Grand Canyon had worked side by side with him for the last twenty years. When their jobs had finished four decades ago, Juan and Henry had exchanged phone numbers, probably without ever expecting to use them. Back then, of course, there had been no cell phones, so Henry had given Juan the number to his parents’ house. That was how, just two years after Henry opened his shop in Beverley, Juan found him. Recently divorced at the time from Angela, and recovering from his broken heart, he was riding his Harley-Davidson to the motorcycle rally in Sturgis when he pulled into Clover Lake on a whim, looking for Henry. Catherine Livingston steered Juan to Beverley, and five minutes after the two reconnected, Henry offered him a job at the shop.

“She’s busy with the musical.”

“What about going to the bakery in the afternoon, maybe when school gets out? Ashley says Charlotte stops by before play practice, gets one of those ham sandwiches. Says she’s crazy about them.” After Juan had started working at Check Care Auto, Henry had clocked how often his friend went to Ashley’s bakery. Eventually, Juan admitted it wasn’t the croissants he was interested in, but the owner. A year later, Juan and Ashley moved in together; the couple now had two teenage daughters.

Deciding his best course of action was to wait for the opening night of Grease, Henry hoped to catch her after the show to talk to her. He had planned on closing the shop an hour ago but was running late thanks to a stalled Buick. According to his ticket, he had only twenty minutes to get to the high school auditorium, making it impossible to run home and take a quick shower. After he finished cleaning the oily remnants of work from his hands, he dried them off before almost colliding with Juan upon exiting the auto shop’s bathroom.

“Henry!” Juan exclaimed. “I thought you already left! Doesn’t the musical start soon?”

“Well, the doors open in,” Henry checked his watch, “fifteen minutes, and I still need to get out of my coveralls.” Luckily, he had dressed in his nicest pair of jeans this morning, pairing them with a simple long-sleeved t-shirt a deep royal blue color. “The musical starts in forty-five minutes.”

“Not that you want to be on time or anything.” Juan followed Henry to his office. “And you’re still planning on taking flowers, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, carefully pulling off the denim coveralls that kept his street clothes from getting dirty. Thankfully, Flower Power was one block over. “April is holding them for me.” Was it normal for an adult man to be jittery when he was on his way to watch a bunch of teenagers sing “Summer Nights”?

Juan whistled. “Looking good, my friend. She won’t be able to resist you. Now get out of here. I’ll lock up.”

“But you and Ashley need to be there early, too, right, since the girls are in it?”

Juan shrugged. “We’ll get there in time. Besides, Lucia said she doesn’t care since she’s only in the chorus, and Kara told us she’ll die of embarrassment if we sit too close to the stage. Teenage drama queen. Makes a perfect Sandy. Anyway, ¡vamos!” Juan pulled Henry in for a quick hug before rushing him out of the shop.

The show was spectacular, thanks to Charlotte’s creativity and the overall joy she possessed, Henry was certain. He wanted nothing more than to be in her light, soaking up the rays of her positivity. At the back door of the high school, Henry waited for Charlotte, holding the bouquet of yellow roses to his chest. Raised eyebrows, questioning looks, and sideways glances were thrown his way as the actors exited. He didn’t care because he had spent endless nights imagining holding her soft cheeks, brushing his mouth against her dewy lips; the thought of her in his arms frequently kept him from sleeping soundly. Desire warred with his conscience too often as his body burned for hers in the midnight hours, with cold showers his only hope for peace.

Checking his watch, Henry noted the time was after ten, which meant the play had been over for more than half an hour. Had he erred in waiting outside for Charlotte, hoping they’d have more privacy there, instead of backstage at the theatre? Eventually, Del Johnson, head custodian for Beverley High School, exited. “Henry? Are you waiting for someone?” Del, owner of a faulty Ford Expedition that was in his shop at least once every few months, was anywhere from sixty to eighty, and he wore a look of mild concern.

“I, uh…” Henry started, unable to speak over the awkwardness of the moment. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to Charlotte Berg, but I haven’t seen her.”

“Charlotte? I’m sorry, but she left with her daughter and a friend a little while ago. Went out the front door,” Del told him. “I can take those if you want. Put them on her desk. She’ll see them tomorrow morning.”

Cheeks burning, Henry looked at the roses, actively wilting thanks to the pressure of his grip. What should he do? Leave a bouquet of half-dead flowers for Charlotte to find in the morning? Repeat this process for tomorrow night’s performance? Before he could second-guess himself, Henry said, “No, thanks. I’ll give them to her later,” and left it at that. Humiliated, Henry tossed the flowers into the front seat of his car when he got in, frustrated with himself for getting it wrong. Again. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be for them, or their timing was off. He didn’t know if he had the tenacity to try again. But he was tired of being alone…tired of waiting. Unsure of what to do, he considered that the best course of action was to wait for her to make a move, to ensure he didn’t mess it up once more.

By the end of summer, the oppressive heat refused to break its hold on Beverley, but nothing could dampen the high spirits of the late-August engagement party. In their backyard, Effie and her fiancé of one week offered icy cold drinks and grilled bratwurst to their guests.

“That little scamp! I can’t believe Josh didn’t tell me he was going to propose!” Ruth exclaimed, pulling Effie to her in a rib-crushing hug. “I’ll forgive him, though, because you are positively glowing! Your smile is almost as blinding as your ring!” She brought Effie’s hand up to her face for a closer inspection. “Where did he get it? It’s gorgeous!”

With tears welling in her eyes, Effie explained, “Actually, the diamond in the center is from the engagement ring my dad gave to my mom. I guess she gave it to Josh a few months ago. He added the rubies around it because that’s my birthstone.” Josh had stunned her last week with his proposal. Although the couple spoke about their relationship in terms of forever, and had lived together for a year, they had each experienced heartbreak before: she endured a miserable marriage with a cheating husband, and he, of course, had been stunned and humiliated the night before his wedding when his fiancée left him at the altar. Until he got down on one knee in the city park under the gazebo, she hadn’t realized just how badly she wanted them to be united in marriage, for all the world to know they belonged to each other.

“I don’t know when I have ever seen Josh this happy,” Ruth cried, dabbing at her cheeks with a tissue. “These damn hormones have my emotions all over the place.”

“Hormones?” Effie questioned. Granted, her engagement to Josh was the cause for many happy tears tonight, but the last time Effie had witnessed her friend crying was last year, but with two little daughters under two years old, she couldn’t be- “Ruth, are you pregnant again?” Effie shrieked.

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Ruth laughed. “I didn’t want to make this party all about my fertility, but since you figured it out-” the rest of what she wanted to say drowned out when Effie embraced her. Since she was at least six inches taller, that meant Ruth’s face burrowed into Effie’s chest.

“Stop! You’re suffocating me!” Ruth laughed.

“Effie,” Hamilton appeared at her shoulder, taking her elbow in his hand. “Can I borrow you for a sec?”

“Um, sure,” she said. “Excuse us,” she told Ruth. “What’s up?” Effie asked her younger brother, who wore a serious frown on his gorgeous face.

“It’s Mom,” he said ominously, and she braced herself for impact. “She’s at least three sheets to the wind. If those sheets were hanging outside to dry, but then a tornado came through, ripping them off the clothesline, dropping them in a field where the cows can stomp all over them. We’re talking hammered.”

“Wait…what?” Effie assumed that her mother’s drinking had stopped, or at least tapered off, since Burnie had been recuperating so well at home. “She seemed fine before. Maybe a little high-strung, but I thought that could be because of my ring.” During Effie’s childhood, Diadema’s engagement ring from Nathaniel had represented the eternal love between her parents, but now the last symbol of their short-lived, tragic love story was on her finger, and she could understand why that might be upsetting to her mother. Was her mom regretting giving Josh the engagement ring after all? “Where is she?”

“She has Josh’s dad trapped, crying about how he abandoned her and how everyone she loves leaves her. The dude looks so uncomfortable.” Considering he was taking classes to become a social worker, Hamilton should be more adept at handling a situation like this, instead of being so confused about how to help their mom. However, she conceded that she had ten more years than her brother dealing with their mother, so she cut him some slack.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Effie asked her brother as they walked the path Josh had lined with paving stones.

“You know how I’ve been helping Dad with his business?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve been going over there at least twice a week and almost every weekend, but then last week Mom was going on about how guilty she feels making me drive from Beverley, while I’m also juggling my classes at the college. I told her I didn’t mind, but she told me not to come anymore. She said now that Dad was better, they could deal with things on their own.” Hamilton lifted his wide shoulders in a shrug.

Effie scanned the crowd. “Where’s your dad? I don’t think he needs to see Mom like this.”

“He had to run to the hardware store. Needed to look at light fixtures for their garage.” That meant he should be back soon, since Bits and Bobs was less than a mile from their house.

“Okay. Listen, why don’t you run in and make some coffee? Someone should be able to help if you need it.”

Hamilton tilted his head. “I know you see me as incompetent, and sometimes it’s justified, but believe it or not, I do know how to make a pot of coffee. One of my girlfriends showed me,” he explained as she raised her eyebrow, before grinning and jogging back to the house.

Effie reached her mom and Henry. “I think she needs to go home, Effie. She’s had a long day,” her future father-in-law murmured before slipping away toward the grill, where Josh, holding a pair of tongs, stood with his cousin Liam.

Poor Henry, cleaning up her mother’s mess, once again. When Effie first began dating Josh, Diadema revealed that she and Henry had a history as far back as childhood, but offered no further details, presumably because they painted her in an unflattering light. As a teenager, Effie recalled overhearing whispered conversations between her mother and Nora, filled with snippets of remorse that had made no sense until recently. Earlier tonight, in the rare moments Effie’s eyes drifted from her fiancé’s, she witnessed a handful of times her mom’s gaze followed Henry. For his part, he seemed oblivious to it, as he always did when a woman stared at him. Maturely handsome, with a haunting quality to his good looks, it was Henry’s quiet reserve Effie assumed most women found appealing. He should be looking to the future, not being dragged through her mother’s mess. Still convinced he and Charlotte were a perfect match, Effie was disappointed that nothing had happened between the two. Yet.

“Mom, what the hell are you playing at?” Disturbed as her mother drained whatever was in the cup she was holding so precariously, Effie berated herself for not trusting her instincts about Diadema’s alcoholic consumption. After all, the evidence had been present since she had first moved from Denver back to Clover Lake last year. Mixed drinks with every meal, afternoons topped off with a wine spritzer or hot toddy, depending on the season. Since Burnside’s hospitalization almost nine months ago, the drinking had increased, for a while at an alarming rate—so much that Hamilton had suggested an intervention. Before it could happen, Diadema miraculously appeared to get it together. Conceding that maybe that’s only what Effie wanted to think, since she and her mom had forged a new relationship together. After so many years of her mom being unreliable, consumed with her new husband and precious baby boy, Effie was finally relating to and communicating with her mom, something she had never thought possible.

“Euphemie,” her mom slurred, “I am merely enjoying a cocktail at my daughter’s engagement party. Why must you always be so dramatic?” Her mom lifted the arm not holding a drink, and her voluminous sleeve practically swallowed her frail arm. Was she…was her mother wearing a caftan? How had she not noticed until now? Was this what her world had come to? After marrying Burnside (and his generous bank account), her mom had adopted a certain “Emily Gilmore” attitude, especially concerning what clothes were to be worn in and out of the home, and Effie couldn’t recall caftans being part of either wardrobe.

An exhausted sigh escaped Effie. “Okay, why don’t we start with how many cocktails you’ve had while enjoying your daughter’s engagement party?”

Diadema exhaled loudly before taking another drink, frowning when she realized her cup was empty. “Euphemie, we are celebrating my beautiful daughter and her true love. Or I thought we were, but I seem to be the only one who is having her drinks counted.”

Over her mom’s head, Josh shot her a worried look, and she mouthed coffee, hoping that he would go in and check on Hamilton’s progress. Her sweet love handed his tongs to Liam and ducked inside the house. Breathing a sigh of relief that Josh read her so well, she started, “Mom⁠—”

Her mother cut her off. “You are fortunate to have had only one love of your life, Euphemie. You have no idea how hard it is to have multiple men take space in your heart, sometimes at the same time.” What the hell was she talking about? Because her childhood memories contained blissful times with her mom and dad, over the years, Effie had questioned her mom’s choice in second husband. As an adult, though, Effie began to see her stepfather in a new light, recognizing in him the quiet stability her mother had undoubtedly craved and desperately needed after having her heart ripped out with the untimely death of Effie’s father. Scarred from the loss, Diadema’s second marriage and the wealth accompanying it had afforded her the opportunity to reclaim her independence from her all-too-often racist and controlling parents. “My life is very lonely right now,” her mother continued. “Burnside is still so weak…so depressed. The only person I can talk to is Henry, and I never see him anymore.”

Hamilton tapped on their mom’s shoulder. “Here, Mom, drink this.” He traded her empty glass for a full cup of coffee.

“And what is it, exactly, that you need to talk to Henry about, Mom?” Effie asked after she took a shaky sip. “You do know he has his own life? His own business to run, right?”

Diadema’s caftan-covered arm waved in front of her, coming dangerously close to spilling her cup. “Euphemie, do you know how difficult all of this has been on me?” With tears filling her eyes, her mother told her, “I have already buried one husband, and I am close to losing another. I can’t do this on my own, so if I need a friend…someone who cares about me…is that so wrong?”

“Mom, why are you acting like Burnie has one foot in the grave? Hasn’t the cardiologist, and Josh, told you that as long as he takes care of himself, a full recovery seems optimistic?”

Hamilton procured a deck chair for their mom and was gently ushering her into it when she said, “We had some startling news at his last checkup. It seems it’s not just the angina after all.”

“What do you mean?” When she didn’t answer immediately, Effie grabbed her hand. “Mom?”

Diadema began crying in earnest. “According to his doctor, Burnside had a minor heart attack sometime between his last two appointments. So small that he wasn’t even aware of it, which I guess can happen.”

At last, some answers that explained this outrageous behavior. Looking from her mom to her brother, she noted the pain flickering on Hamilton’s face. “Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything? You know we’re always here for you: me and Josh and Hamilton, for anything you need. And Nora, too. Why aren’t you reaching out to your best friend?”

Finishing her coffee, her mom said, “Nora and George are so busy traveling, worrying about their own children. Your brother has so much to worry about, trying to get his degree. And now, with everything else you have in your life, you’re planning a wedding. Euphemie…Effie…” Shocked, Effie stared at her mom, who never called her by her shortened, preferred name. “Your dad would be so proud of you, of all that you have overcome,” she said, cupping her daughter’s face. “Finding true happiness within yourself isn’t easy. I should know.” Her mother slumped into her chair, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“I just texted Dad. I’m going to run Mom over to the hardware store. He’s not quite done yet, and I figure a change of scene will clear her head. You can go back to your celebration.” Hamilton rubbed a large hand across his sun-kissed face. He roused their mom, holding her close to his side with an arm wrapped tightly around her slender waist.

“Okay. I’ll walk with you guys to the front.” Effie opened the gate to access the path next to the house, following her brother and mother once they had walked through.

In a low voice, Hamilton said, “I don’t know why she’s freaking out about the heart attack. I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but I was there at the appointment. The doctor just told him to come in every few months. She acts like he’s got one foot in the grave.”

Quietly, Effie responded, “Well, not to defend her, but I can’t imagine getting any relatively bad news about Josh, so I get why she’s scared. At the same time, she needs to get a grip.”

“Agreed.”

The trio got to the front of the house when Diadema said, “Oh, I forgot my purse inside. I need to get it.”

Hamilton groaned, saying, “I can run in for you, Mom.”

Diadema insisted, “No, I’m perfectly capable. I need to use the restroom before the drive home, anyway.” Thinking the short walk might do her some good, Effie didn’t argue with her mom and monitored her as she ascended the steps of the porch, relieved once she made it inside.

Hamilton wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead, grumbling, “I’m going to start the car so it cools off. How the hell is it so hot this late in the day?” He sprinted to his car parked down the block.

“How’s your mom, Effie?” The question came from Henry, and she smiled gratefully. He always did so much for everyone, and Effie hoped the time was coming for someone to take care of him.

“She’ll be okay. Ham is going to take her to meet up with Burnie.”

Henry nodded. “Probably for the best. You know, I feel awful for not being there for her. I didn’t know she was struggling. I told her I’d drive over tomorrow to check in on her.”

“Absolutely not, Henry. You have enough to do, and I told her as much. You should be focused on your own life.” She sat on the edge of her deck, squinting as the setting sun broke through the clouds to the west. “Like Charlotte. We never talked more about her…what happened there?”

A discernible yearning crossed Henry’s face, but he shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. I just don’t think anything is in the cards for us, Effie. I either missed an opportunity or misread the signals.”

Her heart twisted, still not entirely sure about what had transpired last spring on opening night of the musical. Josh had heard that Henry had bought flowers for Charlotte that night, but something had gone askew for some reason, and he’d never given them to her. Instead, he’d arrived for work the next day in a terrible mood, according to Juan. Effie, of course, had been backstage with Charlotte the entire evening, and had walked out the front door with her, and Amy and Isobel, who had driven to Beverley for the weekend of Grease. She hadn’t seen Henry in the audience or known he was there, and the image of him standing alone, flowers in hand, broke her heart. “What do you mean? Have you seen her?” Effie herself hadn’t seen her since closing night of the musical, because Charlotte had been gone for most of the summer. School had started a couple of weeks ago, so she had texted Charlotte an invitation to the party tonight. She had said she would come, but it was after eight now, so Effie assumed something had come up.

“It’s okay, Effie. Some of us weren’t made for love, I guess. Not like you and Josh.”

“That’s not true,” she vehemently responded. No one deserved love more than her future father-in-law. A classic muscle car turned onto her block, one that she easily recognized: Charlotte! Just then, Diadema stumbled as she descended the porch steps. “Mom!” Effie cried. Henry easily caught her just as Charlotte’s car approached the house. Dismayed, she could do nothing as the Tempest drove past, never stopping. Effie turned to see Henry holding her mother safely in his arms.

Charlotte’s professional life was thriving, from her students and colleagues to the drama department and other various extracurricular activities she oversaw, and her personal life was pretty close to fantastic, evidenced by a dinner out with Nora and Trixie at La Hacienda. Only her romantic life stood still, after her ill-fated attempts at dating last year. “When is your Beverley two-year anniversary, Lottie? It has to be coming up, right?” Trixie’s question unknowingly saved her from focusing too much on what her life was missing.

It was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and though there was no school, Charlotte had fittingly taken part in a Zoom call concerning diversity in literature that morning. She’d presented part of her curriculum from last semester, where she had included books from authors of color with her lesson in The Canterbury Tales. “Yes, April. Just a few months away. I can’t believe how time has flown since my first visit here.” Or since I first saw Henry, she silently added, missing him more than she believed she had a right to. Thankfully, a pitcher of frozen margaritas arrived for their table before she could dwell too much on Henry or her longing for him. Thinking of him brought Effie and Josh to mind. “Have you guys seen the dress Effie got for the wedding?”

“Oh, yes, it’s stunning,” Nora proclaimed. “Our first wedding in the family of the next generation. And hopefully for Josh, things will work out better with Effie than they did with Tess.”

Trixie declared, “Effie isn’t the one we have to worry about. She and Josh are as head-over-heels as a couple can get. It’s her mother I’m concerned about. The way she acted at their engagement party. She should be ashamed.”

“Trix, that was five months ago. I’m not defending DD, but she is trying to be better.” Nora poured salsa into a cup. “Speaking of the party, though, I was surprised you weren’t there, Charlotte.”

“Yeah, I was sorry to miss it.” She cast her eyes down. She’d already made an excuse to Trixie but couldn’t remember what she’d told her friend about why she hadn’t come. Anxious about seeing Henry again, her nerves had her running late that day, after talking herself into asking him out, finally. Hoping to ask Henry to go on a drive with her after the party, she had driven resolutely to Effie’s house in her Tempest. The moment she rounded the block, her eyes landed on Henry, more handsome than she remembered. With his hands on his hips, his legs were long in the jeans that encased them, and even from half a block away, sexual awareness flooded her. Her expectations abruptly screeched to a halt, though, as DD fell into his arms from the stairs. Unable to face the sight of him holding another woman, particularly that one, Charlotte continued driving, not relaxing until she reached the Dairy Barn on the outskirts of town, where she drowned her sorrows in a Butterfinger and cookie dough stuffed cyclone.

“Well, we missed you,” Trixie assured her. “And you missed DD making a spectacle of herself. I’m sorry, Nora, I know she’s been your friend for ages, but⁠—”

“I know. Honestly, I’m about at my limit with her, too. And George is furious with her for roping Henry into helping her again.” Nora shook her head.

“That’s my brother. Once he heard about Burnside’s second heart attack, he felt guilty. Why I will never understand. I mean, she could just hire someone to help. Or what about Hamilton? Why can’t he help her again? He was doing it before.”

Nora added, “Hamilton is DD’s son with Burnside. Sweet boy. Really good-looking, too. Not as good-looking as our sons.” Nora grinned at Trixie.

Trixie raised her glass in agreement. “Yes, Felix and Daniel are quite attractive, if I do say so myself.” She flashed Charlotte a grin. “And you already know Liam—too gorgeous for his own good, that one. Ooh, Lottie, didn’t you say your daughter was single?”

“Forget about it, Trix,” Nora told her sister-in-law. “Liam is still nursing a broken heart from that woman in New York. Won’t even look at another woman, according to his sister. But Hamilton is single.” Nora scooped up salsa with a tortilla chip.

“I don’t know. Isobel isn’t looking to settle down. Plus, she lives three hours away.”

Nora waved her hand, the giant diamond on her finger sparkling. “Forget that, then. Ham just got out of a long-distance relationship with a woman from Philadelphia.”

“Oh, right.” Trixie nodded. “They met at the street dance in Beverley a couple of summers ago. She’s a bit older than him, if memory serves⁠—”

“A bit?” Nora burst in. “DD had a fit every time she talked about her precious son dating an older woman. Acted like they were committing some kind of terrible sin.” Nora helped herself to another serving of chips and salsa. “Back to DD and Henry. I agree she is leaning too much on him, but you know him. He always goes out of his way to help everyone.” Nora leaned in, whispering, “And we all know what a terrible crush he had on her.”

“In high school, Nor. Ages ago. Over for decades,” Trixie said pointedly, with a brief nod at Charlotte.

Nora’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes—I mean no, he’s not still hung up on DD. That was nothing more than a teenage crush.” After a bite of her enchiladas, she asked, “Speaking of dating, what about you and Henry, Charlotte?”

Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not really⁠—”

“According to George, he’s talked about you. And he never does that.”

Charlotte blushed, feeling like a teenager. “I’m sure that was a while ago.” More than likely, after one of her trips to the garage, which seemed like too long ago at this point.

Nora assured her, “No, it was recent. Would you be…interested?” Charlotte looked from Nora to Trixie, gaping.

Trixie raised her hands. “I didn’t say anything, Lottie. She got there on her own.”

With her tongue loosened by her margarita, she admitted, “I just…I don’t know. It’s hard, starting over. I thought we shared a couple of moments, but he’s never called me. Even after I told him to.” She confided in them about the day she’d seen him, a year ago, in the diner with DD.

“I did warn you that he may require patience, Lottie,” Trixie reminded her. “But even I have to admit that I didn’t know he would require so much.” She shrugged. “He’s so cautious.”

“And scared of opening himself up.” Sympathy was written on Nora’s face. “But if he’s talking about you with George, that means something.”

Trixie nodded. “He keeps his cards close to his chest, Lottie. Getting information out of him can be impossible. But once he lets you in, he’s loyal.”

“He may need a bigger push, unfortunately; as scary as it sounds, you may need to make the first move,” Nora advised her.

No way, Charlotte thought. She couldn’t. Instead, she put her head down, focused on new lesson plans, and busied herself with her students. Until spring break.

With no plans except to narrow down next fall’s theatrical selection, Charlotte strolled over to the high school from her house in the fresh, albeit chilly, air. Forgotten once the bell rang on the previous Friday, the plays were on her desk, and her trip provided her an opportunity to think about everything that was not happening in her life, despite her wishing otherwise. After picking up Our Town and The Crucible, Charlotte wandered down Main Street, heading to Mr. Beans for lunch. As she passed the library, she waved to Effie, who was standing on the steps with her arms around Josh. The younger woman looked more in love every time she saw her, and in her opinion, Josh was a sweetheart who would clearly do whatever he could to make Effie happy.

As fluffy snowflakes fell, she debated her drink order: one of Mr. Beans’ decadent hot chocolates or an equally luxurious coffee concoction? Before pulling open the door to the coffee shop, her eyes fell, as they always did, to Henry’s auto shop across the street. A little voice tried to encourage her to go over to see him, but with a shake of her head, she entered the coffee shop as planned. Once inside, where the order line was several people deep, she waited for her glasses to clear after they had fogged from the cold outside. Standing behind a man significantly taller, her phone pinged in her pocket, and she pulled it out.

Amy

How’s spring break?

How’s Henry?

Make your move yet?

A guy like that can’t be single forever, you know…

Charlotte

Stop!!! No, I haven’t made a “move” yet.

Do you really think I should?

Amy

It’s that or keep waiting.

Aren’t you tired of that?

Amy was right; she was tired of waiting, and made up her mind that after lunch, she’d go see Henry and try one final time with him. Invigorated by her decision, she started replying to Amy but froze when the man in front of her gave his order to the barista. “I’ll have my usual smoothie order and one of those warm chicken salad sandwiches.” That deep voice belonged to only one man. Henry.

Sadie, the barista, laughed. “Henry, when will I convince you to try another smoothie blend?”

Entranced, Charlotte watched his wide shoulders lift as he told Sadie, “If I find something that works, I stick with it.”

“You’re just like your future daughter-in-law, who also orders that same sandwich. I swear, Effie is in here every other day for it.”

Screwing up every ounce of courage and bravado she possessed, Charlotte blurted, “That’s my favorite, too,” to his broad back, hoping she displayed a calm demeanor as he turned around. Heart slamming into her chest, her brown eyes locked with his sky-blue ones. Breathlessly, she noted how his pupils dilated. A sign, according to Amy, of interest, still evident after so many agonizing months of no contact.

“Is that everything, Henry?” asked Sadie.

Without taking his eyes from Charlotte, he said, “And whatever Charlotte is having.”

Quickly, Charlotte replied, “Oh no, you don’t have to⁠—”

“Please,” he said gruffly, “let me buy your lunch.”

Under his spell, she nodded. “Thank you.” To Sadie, she requested, “I’ll have the same sandwich, a large English toffee breve, and a glass of water, please. Oh, and can you add a brownie?”

Dusting snow from the ends of her hair, she stilled as his large hand stroked a curl on her shoulder. “You missed some.” His eyes held hers as he did it again. He was close enough to inhale the mint on his breath and the fabric softener from his clothes. Head spinning from nerves and hormones, Charlotte grasped her opportunity. “Would you care to join me for lunch?”

Henry glanced at one of the large front windows. Charlotte braced herself, worried he was going to tell her he had to leave. He surprised her instead. “I would love to.”

Relief made her legs tremble as they walked to an empty table, and when Henry pulled her chair out for her, she all but collapsed. Holding her chair, his fingers brushed her shoulders as his heat seared her through the thickness of her coat and sweater. Isobel frequently complained that chivalry was dead, but it wasn’t: not in Charlotte’s beloved Jane Austen novels, or in the Jojo Moyes books she had recently discovered. Or in her favorite TV show, Bridgerton. Or here, in real life Beverley, with Henry, whose breath whispered into her hair as he slid her chair in.

Once he sat down, he removed his Minnesota Twins baseball cap. “My mom would kill me if she knew I was wearing this indoors.” He winced and placed the cap on his knee.

“My dad was a huge Twins fan. We all used to go to a few games every year.”

The dimple in his chin flashed at her when he smiled. “Yeah, us too. My folks would load the three of us up in the car bright and early in the morning. Sometimes we’d stay overnight in the cities, all in one room. I did the same thing with Josh when he was a teenager.”

Trying to slow her racing heart, she wiped the remaining condensation from her glasses. “We did that with Isobel, but she was only interested in the snack bar.”

“You have amazing eyes.” His deep voice stopped her heart. “Like melted chocolate.”

With jittery fingers, she pushed her glasses up her nose, entranced by his blue gaze. “I can’t believe you’re here…I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.” His finger traced a pattern on his water glass, reigniting the naughty thoughts she’d had of him doing the same thing to her inner thigh, the tops of her breasts, her neck, in that little sensitive spot right under her ear, until so slowly, he ran it down⁠—

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” His soft voice interrupted her fantasy. “I tried, actually.” When? The last time she had seen him had been outside Effie’s house. Embarrassed by the memory, she flushed. “First at the musical last year.” His crystal-blue eyes were sincere as they held hers. “Effie told me you were directing it, so I went to opening night.” How could she not have known? Not sensed he was there? Amy and Isobel had come up for the weekend, and the production, her largest to date, had been both exhausting and exhilarating. “And then I saw the one-act plays last fall.” His eyes never broke from hers. “They were incredible.”

His confession seemed loaded with a secret meaning. What else had she missed? “You came to the plays?” Without her noticing, her beverages were now in front of her.

“Each night, as a matter of fact.” His finger began drawing circles on his glass again, and she steadied herself with a sip of her drink. “My son Josh was in some plays when he was in school over in Clover Lake, but they never did anything on the scale of what you are producing. It’s so impressive. You’re impressive.”

Their eyes locked again, and she blushed. “Thank you. I wish I’d known you were in the audience.”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, and his fingers combed through his silvery-blond hair. “You seemed busy every time, always surrounded by people. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Imagining him there, silently supporting her, made her melancholic.

“I would have made time for you, Henry. My daughter and my best friend, Amy, came from Sioux City for both of those weekends.”

“I remember your daughter from that time in the shop.”

“She remembers you, too.” Asked about him far too often, as a matter of fact, and if Charlotte was ready to make a move.

A small smile curved his lips, and before he could respond, Colt was at their table with their lunch. In companionable silence, they ate their sandwiches, the coffee shop so quiet Charlotte counted every breath Henry took. Then he said, “You’ve made quite an impression in Beverley since you moved here. I’ve kept up with all the articles in the newspaper. Your students did well at the state oral interpretation competition.”

Charlotte flushed. “Paul Jacobsen would not let up until I agreed to coach that.”

“I know Paul pretty well. He can be determined, which I’m sure makes him an excellent vice-principal.”

“He’s great.” Charlotte swirled her coffee. “You mentioned Josh acted in plays in Clover Lake. But not Beverley?”

“No, but he was in oral interp here. Said there were too many people already in the plays, so he found his place in that instead.”

“It’s hard to believe that you haven’t lived in Beverley forever. Everyone seems to know you.”

“Well, you’d be surprised how often folks bring their vehicles into the shop. People forget to check their oil, run their tires to shreds, ignore the check engine light.”

“Keep jumping their battery instead of getting a new one?”

“That, too. Those are some of my best customers.” His hot gaze lingered on her. “At this point, though, I’ve lived here for over twenty years. We moved here when Josh was fourteen, a couple of years after his mom left. I know how difficult it is to reset your life. It’s brave, what you did. Starting over.”

To get her pulse under control, she glanced out the window, where the snow was coming down heavily. “It seems like winter wants to hang on, doesn’t it? I never considered how long nights can be, especially now that we’re waiting for spring. They just drag on, something I never noticed until I was divorced.”

“How long were you married?” Henry’s voice brought her eyes back to his, and staring into their depths, she wondered how she had ever looked away from him. When he leaned back into his chair, his shirt stretched across his torso while his finger traced his lower lip. She shifted in her seat, so sexually attuned to him that her nerves tingled.

“In actuality, or how long did it feel?” A bemused smile danced across his lips at her question. “We got married the summer after we graduated from high school.” At his shocked look, she added, “Isobel, our senior surprise. We were married thirty-one years.”

Henry whistled. “That’s when I got married, too, but your marriage lasted longer than mine.” His hand rubbed his chin, making her breath catch. “What man in his right mind lets you go after half a lifetime together?”

She was lost, and under his scrutiny, Charlotte’s mouth dried. “We were so young. It’s probably a miracle we lasted as long as we did. Brady, my ex, is honestly a fantastic man.” She shrugged. “We just had nothing in common by the time we turned twenty-five. Maybe even before that.”

“I know that feeling well. I often wonder if my ex and I ever had anything in common.” He shook his head, and a frown deepened the cleft in his chin. “Like your brownie. She never ate dessert, but my sweet tooth is legendary.”

“Our brownie, you mean.” Henry raised an eyebrow, and Charlotte clarified, “You bought my lunch, so I feel like it’s only fair to share it. Can’t disappoint your legendary sweet tooth, after all.”

Henry chuckled, and the sound made her skin tingle. “No, I suppose we can’t.” Using the second fork Sadie had provided on the tray, he moaned after eating a bit. “So good.”

Charlotte agreed. “They make an excellent brownie. Chewy, not cakey.”

“Yes, and sometimes they put walnuts in them.”

“Love walnuts in my brownie. Have you ever had their turtle brownie?”

“One of my favorites!” Henry tapped his fork on the plate. “What about their cream cheese brownie?”

“Mmm, yes.” She pushed the plate toward him, urging him to take the last bite. “I have to admit something, Henry.”

“Okay, this sounds ominous.” He raised a blond eyebrow at her, and the action was so sexy her heart thumped.

Focus on the brownies, she told herself. “They make good brownies here, but I make even better ones.”

“Really? Now I’m intrigued.”

“And my cream cheese brownies,” she peered at him over the top of her coffee cup, “will make you believe in miracles.”

“I believe you. You seem like someone who creates all kinds of magic.” With anyone else, his statement would’ve sounded like a line, but Henry delivered it with a sincerity she trusted.

Someone cleared their plates at some point, and their conversation ventured into areas of personal interest: what books each of them was reading (the latest in Linda Castillo’s mystery series for her, and The Count of Monte Cristo for him), what their recent binge watches were (Charlotte was watching The Wire, Henry Dexter), when suddenly, Henry pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket.

“Oh, wow,” he said, “it’s the shop. I can’t believe I’ve been gone for two hours. I’m never out for this long during the day,” he muttered, grabbing his hat from his knee as he stood. Charlotte’s recently refilled water glass tipped over as the table rocked, spilling onto the sleeve of her coat.

“Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, his flushed cheeks making him infinitely more attractive.

“Make it up to me.” Rising from her chair, she was close enough that she had to tip her head back to look up at him, and his breath grazed her forehead. “Let’s have dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?” Her stomach cramped, and she dreaded he would refuse. Slowly, he dragged a hand through his hair before putting his hat on. “I’d love to.” His beautiful eyes never wavered from hers. “How does eight o’clock sound?”

“It sounds perfect.” After he smiled and started toward the door, she restrained herself from jumping up and down.

He turned back to look at her before leaving. “I’ll see you tonight,” Henry called to her.

“Date with Henry, huh?” Wiping down her table was Colt, her favorite barista. They had a piercing decorating each ear, nostril, and eyebrow, but what made them stand out the most was an effervescent sense of humor. “Girl, you are going to make half the women in this town jealous!”

“That’s one hell of a lunch break, my friend! Thought I was going to have to get Adam involved in a search,” Juan joked after Henry returned to the shop. “Got scared maybe you left town. Decided to have lunch in Sioux Falls.”

“Don’t you have work to do? Didn’t John Lefferts bring his ancient Tahoe in for an oil change?” Deflection was the wisest course of action, Henry figured, not ready to share the latest development in his life.

“Don’t worry about the Tahoe. Already taken care of, and John is on his way to pick it up.” Juan poured a cup of coffee he must have brewed while Henry was having lunch with Charlotte, then rooted around in the refrigerator for cream. After pouring an amount large enough to cause concern from any medical professional, Juan shot him a sly grin. “It’s amazing what we can accomplish in two hours.” Juan brought his cup to his mouth. “Same could be said for you, I suppose.” Henry remained silent, turning his back to his friend to pour his own cup of coffee. “Damn, this new blend is outstanding…is that coconut I’m getting…and maybe cherry?”

“I’m going for a Twin Bing kind of flavor, without the peanuts.”

“Mmm, good work, my friend, good work.” Juan sank into a chair before putting his feet on the edge of Henry’s desk. “So tell me about the lovely Charlotte.”

Blanching, Henry chose ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean. And get your filthy feet off my desk!”

His friend ignored him. “Don’t play dumb with me. Aside from that son of yours, you’re the smartest man I know. You could learn a few things from him about starting a relationship. I mean, Josh was dating Effie before the ink was dry on her divorce papers, if memory serves. Meanwhile, you’ve taken almost two damn years to ask that woman out on a date.” Henry flushed, and Juan’s boots hit the ground. “What the hell? Henry, did you finally ask her out?”

A knock drew the attention of both men. Liam smiled from the office doorway, but Henry could tell the smile didn’t reach his nephew’s eyes. “Am I interrupting a meeting of the minds in here?”

“Just trying to get some details out of your uncle about the long lunch he just had with a certain high school English teacher.”

“Uncle Henry, what?”

“And whether he asked her out for a date. He won’t say, but-”

“Are you going on a date with Charlotte?” Liam took a seat on the edge of Henry’s desk. “Spill.”

With a sigh, he admitted, “Yes, I have plans with Charlotte tonight.” Maybe the two of them would leave him in peace now.

“I must admit, I’m impressed. You finally took a chance!” Juan patted him on the shoulder.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I’m still a coward. She asked me out.”

Liam whistled. “Wow, good for her! The Livingston charm remains alive in some of us, I guess.” Nobody responded, and an awkward pause cloaked the office.

Juan looked at his watch. “Well, John should be here for his truck soon, so I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“What’s going on, Liam?” Only six months older than Josh, the cousins had grown up more like brothers, in each other’s shadows their entire lives.

Head in his hands, Liam groaned. “It’s Lana.” Liam’s mystery woman, the one he’d met by chance at a bar in New York City. Not so much by chance after all, it turned out, since they’d both been there to meet Josh, a fact unknown to either of them until last year, when their connection had been revealed. After discovering that Liam was the cousin of her former co-worker, Josh, Lana severed ties between them. His nephew, the former king of casual relationships, hadn’t let her go so easily, though, and had sent her multiple texts daily. His relentless pursuit had almost worked. Until a fateful night last summer, on a beach in the Hamptons, when she had crushed his spirit, finally. Henry didn’t know any details, but his nephew’s easy-going attitude had darkened severely since then.

“Have you heard from her?” Liam looked up at him, his blood-shot eyes filled with what could only be despair, and Henry was concerned with his appearance. Normally he was immaculate, from shaving to clothing to the amount of gel he used in his chestnut-colored hair, but today he was a mess.

“No. It’s over. She can’t forgive that I’m Josh’s cousin. Can’t look past the fact that she’s a surgeon, and I’m a two-bit car salesman. Why would she? And why should she?” Voice wavering, eyes glistening, Liam whispered, “She’s incredible, Henry, and I’m⁠—”

“Hey, stop that!” He put an arm around his shaking shoulders. “You have the biggest heart in the family, but you’ve always sold yourself short in everything that matters.” His nephew had relied on his looks and charm to get him through life, and it had worked. Until now, when the one thing he wanted, the love of Lana, was beyond his reach. “Just look at how you’ve grown the dealership here in Beverley since you started managing it. While teaching business classes at the community college, I might add. And you’re assisting Effie with coaching the track team. You’re loyal, with integrity and empathy.”

“But I’ll never measure up to Josh, not in Lana’s eyes.” Liam looked at him through watery lashes. “You know she had feelings for him when they worked together?”

Henry hesitated, carefully choosing the words he wanted his nephew to hear. “That wasn’t love, Liam. Sometimes our hearts mistakenly see love, when what we truly feel is friendship, duty…companionship. Especially when the other person doesn’t feel the same. Trust me, I should know. Only now am I—” He stopped himself from putting too much weight on his date with Charlotte.

“I’m sorry, Henry, I came in here wrapped up in my problems when you should be thinking about Charlotte. She’s phenomenal with her students, you know.”

“You know her?”

“Oh, yeah. Effie roped me into helping move sets around after track practice one day, so every once in a while I pop into one of her play practices to see if she needs anything.” Liam stretched and rose from his chair. “Thanks for the pep talk. I can’t always talk to Mom and Dad about stuff like this, ya know? Not when they’ve been married forever and still act like newlyweds.”

Henry nodded, understanding all too well. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll get over Lana someday. It helps that she’s not coming to Josh’s wedding, though. Couldn’t bear to see her again.” Liam poured himself a cup of coffee. “For the road,” he told Henry before sauntering out of the office.

“Make sure you bring the cup back this time!” Henry called after Liam.

Henry emptied the remains of the coffee pot into his own mug, glass clattering against ceramic. “All good in here?” Juan poked his head in. “Careful there, you’re getting coffee on the desk.”

“Why am I jittery? I was feeling fine until a minute ago; now I’m afraid I’m going to pass out.”

“Those are just signs that you’re invested in the outcome tonight.” Juan hung his freshly washed cup on the mug tree. “I’m sure you’re nervous.”

“I am,” he paused briefly. “I haven’t mentioned it, but Melanie has been calling again.”

“That woman cannot take a hint! She’s acting like you’re the one who left her! She was silent for twenty-five years, but now she can’t get enough of you? What is her damage?”

Henry shrugged. “I can’t help but have a sense of foreboding. You know, the first time Charlotte and I really connected, at the fair, I had spoken with Melanie that day. And there’ve been a couple of other times when it’s like she knows about Charlotte, she calls.”

“Well, don’t blame only Melanie. There’s been all that bullshit with DD, too, keeping you from pursuing Charlotte.”

“I know, I know. But I swear, everything with DD is tied up.”

“So no other incidents like her showing up here after hours with a bottle of wine?” Henry shook his head. “Good. Just keep in mind that Charlotte is nothing like DD or Melanie. I don’t know DD that well, only talked to her probably once in the almost twenty years I’ve worked here. But from the day I met Melanie, something told me that girl was going to be nothing but trouble. She couldn’t tell the truth to save her life. I didn’t say anything back then because we were kids. Hell, my own family warned me not to marry Angie, but did I listen? No. Our saving grace is that no kids came from that disaster.”

“Josh is the only good thing⁠—”

Juan raised his hands. “Not saying anything about your son. Josh is phenomenal. But leave your ex in the past. Leave DD in the past. Both women twist you up in knots, and not in a good way. Getting a second chance with Ashley was something I wasn’t sure I deserved, and I get down on my knees every day to show my gratitude to her. You, without a doubt, deserve happiness. Love. Peace.” Juan clamped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Now, get the hell out of here. I’ll lock up. Go home and get ready for Charlotte.”

At home, Henry collapsed onto his bed. Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte, he groaned, her face drifting into his mind. She’d been gorgeous this afternoon, her dark hair glinting with snow, the charming dimple in her cheek flashing when she smiled, her deep brown eyes sparkling behind her glasses. Their pasts were so similar: each of them married right out of high school, each young parents, each divorced. Juan was right: Charlotte was nothing like Melanie, no double talk or manipulation, wearing her expressions openly on her beautiful face. At lunch with her, he lost track of time as they discussed books, TV shows, jigsaw puzzles, until Phil texted, threatening to send the sheriff out for him.

In his mirror, Henry held up a tie, trying to figure out if it accentuated his eyes or clashed with the sage green button-down shirt he’d chosen because it would complement Charlotte’s dark eyes. Tossing the tie aside, he sighed in frustration just as his doorbell rang. Hurrying out of his room, he flew down the stairs, finding Effie and Josh in his living room.

“Ooh, Henry, don’t you look handsome!”

“Dad, what’s going on? We rang the bell twice.”

Henry pointed out, “I see that didn’t stop you from coming in.”

Josh ignored his father’s sarcasm. “Why are you all dressed up?” Since when had his son become so observant?

“Babe,” Effie addressed Josh, “I think it looks like your dad is going out this evening.”

Josh picked up a tie Henry had thrown on the bed. “With some of the guys from the shop?”

“No, not exactly.”

Still holding the tie, Josh’s mouth curled. “Okay, so what is it exactly?”

“Well, it’s really more of a last-minute thing.” He loathed hiding it, but he didn’t want them to make too much of a fuss.

“Like what?”

“I have…a date,” Henry finally admitted, noting the look of approval on Effie’s face.

“Who’s the lucky woman?” Effie, eyes sparkling, tried to hide a smile.

“It’s Charl—” the rest of Charlotte’s name was swallowed by the scream Effie gave, swinging her arms around his shoulders.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” She turned to Josh, who was leaning against the banister. “Babe, didn’t I say just the other day what a perfect couple your dad and Charlotte would make?”

Josh nodded. “You did. In fact, you’ve been saying⁠—”

“And wasn’t I wondering if I should maybe prod them about it? I mean, I didn’t want to pull a Ruth or anything, but sometimes people need help, you know, getting there.” Ruth Miller was well known for helping push relationships forward that she deemed to be taking too long.

“Again, you mean,” Josh told her. “Prod them again, because in my recollection, you’ve tried before.” Josh nodded, crossing his arms. “And I advised you against getting involved.” He turned to Henry. “Her restraint has been quite remarkable. Especially when I know that she and Ruth have had their heads together when ‘wedding planning’.” Josh used air quotes.

Henry turned to Effie, “I could use your help, actually, with what to wear.”

“Of course.” His future daughter-in-law followed him up the stairs, heading straight for his closet. “First of all, I love that shirt, but those black pants are giving major funeral vibes. Babe, you know that pair of jeans I bought for you that you refuse to wear?”

“Because I prefer Levis over Wranglers, but you thought my butt would look cute in the Wranglers. I told you I didn’t like the fit⁠—”

Effie raised her hands. “See what I have to put up with, Henry? Your son can be impossible.” To Josh, she said, “I think they would be perfect for your dad. Can you run home and get them?” Even as Josh rolled his eyes, Henry knew he would do anything Effie asked.

“Be right back, Dad.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Effie hugged him. “Now, I think that with those jeans on, you will be irresistible tonight.” Was he ready for whatever this could be with Charlotte? He was fifty-eight, not exactly a spring chicken. “Henry, what’s wrong? I know you’ve been interested in Charlotte for a while. Is this first-date jitters?”

“Honestly, I feel like I did back in high school, when—” Henry cut himself off before he said too much.

“When you had feelings for my mom?” Effie gently asked.

Uncomfortable, Henry tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I was such an idiot. A lovesick schoolboy. And then every mistake I made with Josh’s mom⁠—”

“Henry,” Effie interrupted again, taking his hand in hers, “you’re not the only one who’s been let down by love or taken a chance on the wrong person.” Wasn’t that what he’d told Liam earlier? “If I could go back to my younger self and warn her to avoid my ex-husband at all costs, save myself from that trauma, I would. And I know Josh wishes he and Tess would’ve just stayed friends after they broke up the first time. But we all have skeletons in our closets…things that make us stronger for when we are ready for the right one.”

“You’re right. But what if things go well tonight? What if Melanie somehow learns about it?”

“Why? Has she been in touch with you?” Alarm laced Effie’s words.

“No. I guess I’m paranoid. Josh is adamant about not having her at your wedding, and I can’t help but feel if she finds out about it, she will be unbearable, like she was when Josh first came back to South Dakota.”

“Too bad she didn’t care that much before she abandoned you both,” Effie commented. “Anyway, shrug her off, and my mom, too, and just focus on Charlotte. Where were you thinking of taking her?”

“La Hacienda. Or is that too informal?”

Effie sighed. “That is perfect. Charlotte loves Mexican food.”

Henry’s head lifted. “Do you think I should wear a tie?”

“No, keep it casual.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Effie,” Henry confessed. “Charlotte is dreams and promises. I’m just the owner of an auto shop who’s let a lot of people down during my life.” For the first time, he put words to his trepidation. “Josh’s mom…and Josh. My mom and dad, when I settled in Clover Lake with Melanie.” He hadn’t been enough for DD back in high school, nor had he been enough for Melanie after that. Now, when he was almost sixty, would he be enough for Charlotte?

“No, Henry, that’s not true,” Effie said. “Josh thinks you hung the moon. You are an incredible father who gave up his own dreams for his family. You gave Josh the freedom to discover himself, and he became a doctor…a surgeon…to honor you. That’s a testament to how incredible you are.” Effie wiped her eyes just before Josh walked back in.

“Here are the jeans. May they bring you the cute butt my fiancée thought I should have,” Josh laughed.

“Well, babe, why don’t we let your dad get ready?” Effie withdrew a second shirt from his wardrobe, a Western one in almost the same shade as the one he already wore, with tiny snaps down the front that glinted. “Henry, if you’re wearing the Wranglers, I think this shirt would be killer.”

“Thanks for stopping by. You gave this old man a chance to look halfway decent,” Henry told them.

Josh pulled Henry into a hug. “You look great, Dad. Have fun tonight, okay?” Before letting go, his son said in his ear, “You deserve to be happy. More than anyone else I know.”

Almost Forty Years Ago

Except for her little sister, no one had ever believed in Melanie Novak. After discovering her dream of being a star in Hollywood, even her own mama told her, “You’ll never make it, Mellie. You’ve got nothin’ that special.” Hell-bent on proving all of them wrong, she fled her hometown of Pensacola, Florida, the week after her high school graduation, bound for the West Coast in a rusty (her mama liked to say vintage, but it wasn’t even that old, just a piece of crap stored in the garage) Ford Pinto. Her mama had never allowed Melanie to touch the car after she got her driver’s license. Too bad Mama hadn’t been as strict with her boyfriends when it came to her daughter. When Melanie was sixteen, her mama had gotten divorced for the third time, finally swearing off marriage for good. Unfortunately, that hadn’t included swearing off men, and the string of losers she dated assumed Melanie was included as part of the package. Was it her fault puberty hit her like a hurricane at fourteen, giving her a well-developed figure practically overnight? To give the pervs credit, they hadn’t all possessed grabby hands, but their leering looks and sexual innuendos more than made up for it. But she would show them all that she was better than that.

Melanie figured now that she was done with school, she should capitalize on her looks while she had them, and that meant heading west to California, despite her mama trying to convince her to take a waitressing job. Last summer, Melanie had made the mistake of working at the same shit hole Mama worked in, and she’d been stuck there, working every weekend until Christmas. It would be one thing if it was Red Lobster or another high-class place, but it was a rinky-dink greasy spoon, miles away from the beach. No one goes to Florida to be away from the beach, she tried explaining to her mama. In Melanie’s opinion, the beach was pretty much the only thing Pensacola had going for it, which was why she tried to spend as much time there as possible. She finally quit waitressing after her boyfriend got her a job selling t-shirts and other touristy items in The Beach Hut down by the pier. That was how, two months ago, she had met the man responsible for her future. Dressed in her very finest bikini top and cutest pair of cutoffs, the older gentleman had approached her.

“Excuse me, miss. Do you know you look just like Marilyn Monroe?” She’d been unfamiliar with the blond bombshell, but she’d heard from plenty of people that she looked just like Farrah Fawcett. “What? I can’t believe it. My dear, you are probably the most stunning girl I have ever seen.” His sunglasses hid his eyes while a devilish smile played on his lips. Now, this affirmation wasn’t news to Melanie; after all, she wasn’t blind. Plenty of time staring at her baby-blues and silky blonde hair in the mirror had told her this. Always taking the greatest care with her appearance, she began bleaching her sandy-blonde hair platinum a few years ago. Plucking her eyebrows to the finest arch, she did her best to keep herself from eating except once a day so every bit of her looked like Farrah.

Holding onto the business card he gave her, she went to his hotel room for an audition after she got off work. She hadn’t told her mama or her boyfriend about her plans, suspecting they would try to talk her out of it, if only to keep her from fulfilling her dreams. Because he had been so sweet at The Beach Hut, meeting him alone hadn’t freaked her out, but when she knocked on the door to his hotel room, he answered wearing only a pair of swimming trunks. Ignoring her unease, she told herself that he had probably just come from the pool and allowed herself to be charmed by his sophistication when he served her a martini, even though she was only seventeen.

As the man had fiddled with a video camera on a tripod set up across the room, he asked if she had ever done any acting or modeling. She hadn’t, but this was Florida, she had told him, where nothing exciting ever happened. “My mama is always telling me I have a flair for the dramatic.”

“I could make you a star if you came to Hollywood.” The man coaxed her to sit on the bed next to him. “You could be the next Marilyn.” She about died, even though she still didn’t know who Marilyn was.

“What about Farrah?” Melanie thrilled at the thought of herself on a poster.

“Baby, you could be anybody, especially with a body like that.” His eyes looked her up and down, and Melanie felt sick from the Snickers bar she’d eaten on her way to the hotel.

“Little old me, from nowhere?” Melanie smiled flirtatiously, ignoring the dread growing in her stomach as his thigh pressed against hers. She made herself stay still, letting him pull her closer. If Mama had taught her anything, it been to use what god gave her to get what she wanted.

“This is how we pick the next movie stars.” He topped off her drink from the glass pitcher next to the bed, even though she had only taken two sips, because it tasted disgusting. “You gals from smaller places are always so much more…talented.” Taking the glass from her, he stroked her cheek before brushing his lips against hers. Truly panicked then, and freaked out by the blinking light of the camera, Melanie told him she had to go to the bathroom before bouncing off the bed. Even though she’d had boyfriends since she was fourteen, and despite her mama dating every creep in the book, Melanie was still a virgin. Her womanly appearance often made men believe otherwise, but her mother’s revolving door of men made her reluctant to give away that private part of herself easily.

On her way to the bathroom, she noticed the door to the hotel room was unlatched, so without thinking twice, she flung it open and bolted down the stairs. Afterwards, of course, when Melanie replayed everything over in her head, she wondered if perhaps she had overreacted. Maybe that had all been part of the process, like he had to see if she would be good on camera? So she dug out his business card from the pocket of her shorts, dialing the number before she lost her nerve. Of course, a man as busy as he was didn’t answer his phone, so she left a very detailed message, explaining her mistake in leaving so abruptly (she even inferred it had been her time of the month, an excuse Mama had always said no man wanted to hear but always believed). Melanie added that she would do anything to get the chance to be in a movie or television series. To her relief, the man returned her call later the next day, but explained that it was too late—he was already back in California. But if she were serious, he said, then she should come to Hollywood after she graduated. She assured him that her only dream was to be a star and that she would do whatever it took, then sighed in relief when he informed her to call him when she got to town.

With her mind made up, Melanie spent the rest of her senior year trying to figure out how she was going to get to California. She wanted to show her little sister, Casey, that there was a way out of the Florida Panhandle.

Before leaving Florida in the early dawn, Melanie gathered up her graduation money and kissed Casey on the cheek as she slept curled like a baby. Slipping out of the house as silently as possible, she fired up the Pinto, hoping it wouldn’t backfire, like the last time her mama had driven it. For once in her life, fortune smiled on her, because it purred like a kitten. On the way out of town, she stopped for gas at the Texaco, then headed west, breathing easier with every mile. Unfortunately, right after she crossed the Alabama state line, the Pinto began to smoke, forcing her to pull off the interstate. A kindly man stopped to help her, refilling her radiator with water.

“How far are you traveling?” he asked.

“California.” She mustered every ounce of her pride when she told him.

He whistled. “Missy, why are you going so far on your own? You can’t be much older than my own daughters, both of ‘em still teenagers.”

Too bad her own daddy hadn’t cared for her like the man did for his daughters. He’d walked out on her mama when Melanie was just two and never looked back. Thinking he wouldn’t want to hear about the man from Hollywood in the hotel room, she fibbed. “My high school drama coach told me I’m talented enough to be a movie star.” She’d never even been in a play during school. He just shook his head, but he gave her twenty dollars, just in case she ran into more trouble. Which she did, right outside of Mobile, Alabama.

At a service station, a handsome mechanic informed her that the Pinto needed a new radiator and an oil change. Batting her blue eyes at him, she asked, “How much will that cost?”

This one wasn’t as taken with her looks as most men and quoted a price that had to cost more than her mama paid for the Pinto. “I can’t afford that,” she said, using her breathiest voice. Surely, he would see how much she needed him and give her a discount, she thought.

He asked only, “How far are you going?”

“California,” she answered, that time with a slight quiver. Men always came to heel when they suspected she was going to cry.

He, however, was unmoved. “You’ll never make it that far,” he gloomily predicted.

And the bastard was right. Just outside Hattiesburg, Mississippi, the Pinto sputtered and squealed before stalling completely on the shoulder of the road. A farmer offered her a ride to town in his tractor. Making a snap decision to abandon the Pinto (as soon as she became famous, she’d buy her mama a brand-new car), she had him drop her off at the Greyhound Bus Station. Melanie bought a ticket to Flagstaff, Arizona, the cheapest one on the list. Arizona was right next door to California, and she could figure out the rest later. Her mama always told her, “Why worry about tomorrow when you gotta get through today first?”

Used to the smothering humid heat of Florida, when Melanie stepped off the bus in Arizona, she choked on the hot, dry air. She rolled the last of her money, the twenty dollars Earl had given her, between two fingers, praying it was enough to get her the rest of the way to California. Surveying her surroundings, Melanie pondered what to do next. Maybe check out the truck stop at the edge of town the bus passed on the way in? Someone there had to be heading to Southern California. She tugged on her ponytail, shaking her hair free as the waves bounced down her back, and walked to the side of the bus to collect her suitcase. Before the bus had pulled into Flagstaff, Melanie took the time to clean up in the bathroom, wanting to look her best after three days on the road. In a pair of jeans that fit her like a glove, a bright white shirt tied at her waist, and heeled sandals that made her legs look as long as possible, she was ready to make the most of her looks if needed. Just about ready to ask the bus driver if he could do her a teensy favor and drop her off at the truck stop, something caught her eye from across the street.

On a bench outside the Tastee Freeze sat the most handsome boy she had ever seen. His blond hair glinted in the afternoon sun, and his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. Never looking up from the book he was reading, his calm spirit stilled her hammering heart. Something about him told her that he was a boy who knew where he was going, who was not only confident in his decisions but capable of conquering the world. His quiet demeanor called to her from across the street. Maybe he could help her, give her a place to stay for the night. He looked so relaxed that she figured he was likely a local boy. Maybe he had an extra room in his house? She could charm his mother without a doubt. Her mama had always told her that if she put half her energy in something worthwhile, instead of having her head in the clouds, she could make it in the world. The problem with her mama was that her idea of “worthwhile” was getting the morning shift at the diner; she had no clue how to dream.

Sauntering to the other side of the street while carrying her suitcase was no easy task, since she had stuffed as many clothes and shoes as she could into it, only leaving room for her makeup and a couple of pictures of her little sister she couldn’t bear to leave behind. Never mind the car troubles she’d had; leaving behind Casey had been the most difficult part of her journey. Seven years separated the sisters, and just as Melanie had stopped playing with dolls, a real live doll in the form of Casey had arrived. Because Mama had to get up early for her shifts at the restaurant, Melanie had been the one to give Casey her bottle or change her diaper in the middle of the night. Part of her felt like she was abandoning her little sister, but she’d make it up to her once she became a star by bringing her sister to live with her in her mansion in the Hollywood Hills.

First, she had to get there, and the boy across the street might be her only hope. In case anyone was watching, Melanie made a concerted effort to swing her hips slightly more than necessary as she crossed the street. “Excuse me,” she said to the blond boy on the bench, whose face tilted back to look at her. With his eyes more promising than the blue sky above, heat pulsed through her that had nothing to do with the temperature in Arizona. “My name is Melanie. I wonder if you can help me,” her breathless tone not an act this time.

“Hi, I’m Henry.”

Charlotte’s doorbell rang at seven fifty-five, awakening the butterflies in her stomach that had been fluttering since her dinner invitation to Henry. After a bubble bath, manicure, and a long debate with Amy about what to wear, she was standing just inside her front door when her date arrived five minutes early. Closing her eyes, she touched her forehead to the door, breathing in deeply. She shouldn’t be this nervous. Where was the brave woman from this afternoon, the one who asked Henry out? Insecurity paralyzed her. What if he only agreed to the date because he was a nice guy who couldn’t say “no”? After all, according to Trixie, that was the reason he helped Diadema. What if his marriage had burned him so irrevocably that even after twenty years he wasn’t ready to open up? Would she be this anxious if he had asked her out instead? No, she thought, because she’d still be waiting. Henry, Henry, Henry…she stood on tiptoes to peer through the small window at the top of the door, and his hand—one of those lean, long-fingered hands she had fantasized about for the two years—brushed his silvery blond locks from his forehead. He’d brought her flowers. Slumping against the door, she needed another second to compose herself. Drawing a calming breath, she opened the door, and her knees threatened to buckle at his beautiful smile. His slightly crooked top front teeth lent his otherwise genteel looks a roguish charm, and the slight dimple in his chin winked at her. His hair was so freshly washed it gleamed, and her eyes traveled his handsome face, noticing a smudge near his ear—maybe some shaving cream he hadn’t rinsed off? With or without facial scruff, Henry was sexy either way, but with his naked jaw and full lips on display, his clean-shaven face had her melting. “Henry,” she breathed.

Had it been a mistake to show up early? Henry swallowed past the lump in his throat, doing his best not to crush the flowers in his fist that he’d been assured were first-date perfection. He had sat in his car for twenty minutes before drawing up his courage to ring her bell, five minutes early. Would he appear too eager? When Charlotte answered, looking even more tantalizing now than she had this afternoon in the coffee shop, he relaxed slightly. Earlier, she’d been adorable, in a hat with a jaunty pompom on top, and with snowflakes glistening in her dark waves. Now her hair was up, exposing the creamy skin of her neck, and he longed to taste the line from her chin to her throat. His gaze drank her in. In a deep plum that emphasized her glowing skin, her dress hugged the generous curves of her hips. The neckline offered glimpses of her ripe voluptuousness that he knew would haunt him every moment from now on. Her dimples flashed with her smile, and her warm brown eyes gleamed behind her glasses. “You look beautiful,” he told her, relishing the attractive blush that flooded her cheeks as he offered her the flowers.

“Thank you. Peonies. My favorite.” With his coat unzipped, she noted how his shirt, a rich jade, deepened the blue of his eyes. “You look nice, too. I love that green. It’s one of my favorite colors.” In her doorway, their gazes locked, and she shivered, reminding her that he was still standing outside. “Please come in.” She held the door open and closed her eyes as his body brushed past hers. “Let me get a vase for these,” she said, placing the bouquet on her coffee table in front of the sofa. In the kitchen, she filled a crystal vase with water and returned to the living room as Henry was shrugging out of his coat by the door. Her hormones kicked into high gear at how good he looked in his jeans. Averting her eyes, she arranged the flowers. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Henry hung his coat on a hook by the front door, making sure none of the snow clinging to it landed on the carpeting. “No, thank you,” he answered. “The snow is drifting out there, so we should head over to the restaurant.” He perched on the edge of her sofa, entranced as prisms of light from the vase reflected in her glasses, and the delicate shade of the flowers made her skin even creamier.

Yes, Charlotte thought, going to the restaurant immediately was a supreme idea. If they didn’t make it out of this house soon, she was positive that she would launch herself at Henry as intense sexual awareness simmered between them. She felt wicked, wanting him as badly as she did, but it had been ages since a man had touched her. Before their divorce, she and Brady had not been intimate for months; in fact, during their last decade together, their sex life had gotten increasingly sporadic. Focus, she told herself. “I just need to get my heavier coat from the bedroom. I can’t believe it’s still snowing so hard.”

Henry groaned as Charlotte walked down the hall to her bedroom, and he allowed himself a second to enjoy the sway of her hips before tipping his head back to study the ceiling. Pick a tame topic, he told himself. Just keep talking, no matter what nonsense came out of his mouth. He called back to her, “I like what you’ve done with the house.” Not overly cluttered, she had photos on the walls and on two end tables, along with some knickknacks that were more than likely vacation souvenirs. “I’m familiar with the owners. Did you meet them?”

“No, I didn’t. Everything was done through an agent. Carla is her name,” Charlotte responded from the bedroom as she opened her closet door, thrilled at his deep voice echoing through the house.

Henry groaned. “I know Carla. She used to be married to one of my mechanics, Phil.” After their divorce, she would stop by the shop whenever her ex wasn’t working to flirt with Henry. She was nice enough, but he had not been interested in a romantic entanglement with her.

Charlotte selected an ebony parka to wear, then rethought her decision. Would her scarlet wool coat be warmer? “She told me a few weeks ago that the owners want to put this house on the market eventually.” Disheartening news for Charlotte, since she had chosen the house because it was a rental. “I suppose I could make an offer on it, but I just don’t know.” Should she put down roots in Beverley, making her relocation permanent? Or would she at some point move back to Iowa? Though she had downsized with the sale of the house in Sioux City, the thought of moving again, no matter where, wasn’t thrilling. Plus, she loved the life built here, regardless if anything worked out with Henry or not. Grabbing the wool coat, a firm tug on the hanger jiggled the rack, and for a moment she worried it would fall down.

In the living room, caution stilled Henry’s rapidly beating heart as he considered Charlotte’s words. Did she mean she would find somewhere else to live, or was she uncertain about staying in Beverley? What was tonight about if she planned on moving away? “This house has decent bones. All the houses in this area do. You know, this neighborhood used to be farmland until the 1930s.” Looking frazzled but still beautiful, Charlotte came back into the living room, carrying her coat.

“Sorry I took so long. I’ve been having an issue with the closet in my bedroom. Or should I say the shelf in my closet? Wiggles every time I take something off the hanging rack, so I’ve learned to do it slowly.” Charlotte downplayed the terror she’d felt as she worried the whole thing was going to fall on top of her. “What I need to do is contact the owner, or Carla, I guess, to have someone fix it. According to Carla, the room I’m using as my bedroom is an extension added in the seventies. One of their friends was the contractor, but my guess is he wasn’t licensed, based on the lack of craftsmanship compared to the rest of the house.” The intricately carved crown moulding and wooden fixtures around the doors and windows would make her decision to move difficult because they were stunning elements not found in newer homes.

Gently extracting Charlotte’s coat from her hands, Henry sighed. “Yes, I had to learn the hard way at the shop that not all friends are meant to be employees and be more discerning about who I hire.” Holding up her red wool coat, his breath stopped when her arms skimmed his stomach as she stepped into it. “I can take a look at the shelf. I’ve got some tools in my car.”

Of course he did, she thought. The idea of Henry in her bedroom rocked her imagination, especially since his hands were still touching her shoulders, heavy on top of her coat. “No, no, I don’t want to put you out. Plus, didn’t you say something about a reservation?”

Henry checked the time. “You’re right, it’s in five minutes. I lost track of time.” The second time today he was so wrapped up in Charlotte that time ceased to exist. She spun in front of him, her face tilted up with eyes so dark he got lost in their depths.

Surprised to find herself so close to him, she inhaled quickly. “Where are we going?”

With her breath tickling his chin, the temptation to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him, and he took a small step away before he gave into it. “La Hacienda. I hope you like Mexican food.”

Disappointed that Henry had backed up, she smiled to cover it, assuring him, “It’s one of my favorites.” Together, they walked to the front door, and she locked it behind them. “How did you know just what I wanted?” He stepped off the porch, holding his hand out to her. Neither of them wore gloves, and his warm palm pressed into hers. When his thumb grazed the tops of her knuckles, her shiver had nothing to do with the freezing temperature.

Lacing his fingers through hers came naturally, and they walked hand in hand to his car. Under the lightly falling snow, the urge to kiss her only increased. He opened her car door and struggled to quell his desirous hunger for her as pink bloomed in her cheeks and snowflakes dusted the top of her head. Instead of getting into the car, she took a step closer to him.

“Henry.” Craving his touch, she reached forward, fingers clasping his coat, wanting nothing more than the press of his lips on hers. Just one kiss, she could survive on that for the rest of the evening. Her heart hammered as his arm lifted from the door.

Hypnotized, he cupped her cheek tenderly, resting his thumb at the curve of her smile. In the soft winter light, she was exquisite. His intense desire made his voice hoarse. “Charlotte, can I kiss you?”

The moment she had been anticipating for two years. “Yes.” Henry lowered his head, tenderly brushing his mouth over hers. One kiss was not enough, but at least now he could spend their date with the taste of her on his lips. Forcing himself to pull his mouth from hers, he pressed his forehead to hers, his hand still on her cheek as their breaths tangled.

Turning her head slightly, Charlotte let her lips touch his thumb before she collapsed into his car. Hot, despite the frigid air, she fanned herself discreetly as he gently closed her door. Once he started the car, the soft strains of “Peaceful Easy Feeling” played. Reeling from their erotically chaste kiss, she struggled to control her breathing.

Henry shifted from reverse to first, knuckles accidentally grazing Charlotte’s thigh, and his fist tightened on the gearshift. Because the car had a manual transmission, he’d have to shift again soon, so he gritted his teeth as her soft heat seared his hand. Desperately needing a distraction, he asked, “How is the Tempest? Still running okay?”

With Henry’s hand resting against her leg, she was not making any progress slowing her racing heart. Instead, taking advantage of every bump in the road, she moved her leg closer to him, fantasies wild with possibilities as the hem of her dress inched further above her knee. “Charlotte?” Realization dawned that she hadn’t answered him. “Sorry. Yes. I’ve only taken it out a few times this winter, but it runs beautifully.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “You’re very good at what you do.”

Henry cleared his throat. “It’s the only thing I’ve known, really. People always need something done with their cars, so I have job security. That’s the first thing my dad taught me. I’m sure you know from my sister that my dad and brother have a shop in Clover Lake. Really, it’s just George now, because my dad has mostly retired. When my dad first started there, he worked with our grandfather.”

“Really? It’s been in the family that long?”

Henry nodded. “When my grandpa got back after World War Two, he was a newlywed and didn’t want to farm, so he started the shop.”

“Did your grandparents marry during the war?”

“Yes. They met in England when he was there. Her family was originally from Ireland, but had emigrated at the turn of the century. My grandparents settled in Clover Lake. After my dad got out of the army, he went to work full time with his dad.”

“So that’s how you got started being a mechanic. It’s pretty impressive that you created your own business. You should be proud,” Charlotte commented when Henry grew quiet.

“What I enjoyed most about working in my dad’s shop was seeing him and my grandpa and my brother every day.” Forgoing college to work in the shop had unsettled him for years, even though it was what had been best for his family. Pride in his work hadn’t come until he opened his own shop; then he felt like his life was his own.

“Your family sounds so close, from what Trixie has said.”

“Yeah, we are. Sometimes too much. George is the oldest, and he thinks everything should be his way. He and my grandpa used to have some clashes, since they are both incredibly stubborn.”

“Not your dad, though?”

“No, my dad is very chill, sometimes too much. And patient as the day is long. My mom can be a bit of a firecracker. She’s an amazing cook.” Henry stole a glance and found her eyes on him. He dropped his gaze down to the gearshift, which he still held. Every so often, her thigh pressed firmly into his hand. “Tell me about your parents?”

“Well, my dad was in the army during World War Two, too.” Her heart swelled talking about her dad.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Technically, I guess, he was in the Air Force. He was on a bomber crew that trained in Sioux City. He was born in a little town called Washington Depot in Connecticut and met my mom at a diner in Sioux City. She was eighteen and taking secretarial classes at the college, so she was studying while having lunch. In walked the most handsome man she’d ever seen, she used to say. My dad was eight years older, but my mom had this…” Charlotte twirled her hands in the air, the way her dad used to when he described meeting her mom. “Mom had this wisdom. My dad always said that Mom was beautiful, but the first time he saw her, with her school books spread out in front of her, she barely noticed him walk past. Said he knew she was probably too smart for him,” Charlotte laughed. “Less than a month after they met, his training was done, and he was sent overseas. They wrote to each other every week for three years.”

“Wow, really? Must’ve fallen hard for each other,” Henry remarked.

“Definitely. My mom said she couldn’t even look at another man after she met my dad. Spent every night dreaming of him, even though part of her believed she might never see him again, since he wasn’t from Iowa. Then one day the war was over. She was a secretary by then and was pulling up to her parents’ house after work. There was a strange car in the driveway, and when she opened the door, my dad was there, hat in hand, asking my grandpa for his blessing to marry her.” Charlotte dabbed at her eyes with a tissue from her purse. “Sorry…I always cry telling their story.”

“No need to be sorry,” Henry assured her. “They have an against-the-odds love story. It’s beautiful.”

Charlotte nodded as they pulled up to La Hacienda. “They got married the following year and tried to start a family right away, but they didn’t have any success. They thought maybe something had happened to my dad in the war, that he couldn’t have kids. Then one day, when they’d been married twenty years, my mom got pregnant.”

Henry put the car in park. “That’s incredible. They must have been stunned.”

“That’s one word for it. They called me their little miracle. Now they’ve been gone longer than I had them as my parents. It’s unbelievable.” She unbuckled her seatbelt, turning to find Henry facing her.

“You’re unbelievable.” In the close confines of his car, longing reverberated between them. Gently tracing her cheek with the back of his hand, her breath, shallow and warm, swept across his wrist. “And unforgettable.”

The air was so electric Charlotte was sure they would combust if they moved any closer to each other. “I was thinking you’d say unavoidable after I pressured you for a date.” Some part of her needed assurance, despite their kiss earlier, that he wanted to be here as much as she did.

“Never. I never wanted to avoid you.” His eyes held hers.

Emotions too intense, she gave a small laugh. “I’m glad we got that straightened out.”

“Me, too.” Her huge chocolate eyes stared at him. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

With Charlotte’s wrist under his fingertips, Henry drew her from the car, light-headed with the scent of her as she brushed against him. Still holding her, he traced the delicate skin where her pulse fluttered rapidly, matching his own. Every conversation stoked his interest more, and as much as he wanted to stare at her beautiful face across the table at dinner tonight, he also wished to learn everything possible about her. She magnetized him. Holding the restaurant door open, he absorbed her compassion and lightness.

Charlotte surveyed the crowd almost filling the restaurant to capacity. “What time is our reservation? I hope we’re not too late.” She linked her hand with his. “But that kiss was worth it.”

Before Henry could answer, Elena came for them. “Right this way, Mr. Livingston.” The daughter of the owner of La Hacienda, she had assured him everything would be perfect when he had stopped by earlier to reserve a table for dinner. Judging by Charlotte’s gasp, she had succeeded.

From the candles flickering softly in the low light to the dewy pink peonies in a blue mason jar, their table was exquisite. Tucked in a far corner, they had privacy, but could still hear the sounds of the mariachi band playing softly across the room. “Oh, Henry,” Charlotte exclaimed as he pulled her chair out for her, “this is so elegant…so thoughtful.” The sincerity in his ocean eyes stopped her heart, but his careful smile started it again.

“Henry, I’m honored to see you tonight,” Miguel, the owner and head chef, greeted, clasping him on his shoulder. Henry had known Miguel since Check Care Auto’s first week in business, twenty years ago. “And I know this young woman here. How are you, Charlotte?”

Charlotte grinned at Miguel, “I’m very well, thank you. Also, thanks so much for generously donating the food for the cast parties we’ve had. It makes the closing performances something the kids look forward to.”

“My pleasure. All that talent on stage deserves to be rewarded. As for tonight, you can see you have not been given any menus,” Miguel stated, his accent excitedly emphasizing his words, “so you can put away your glasses, Henry,” who slid them back into his front pocket. “I have made for you two your private tasting menu.”

“Stop. I didn’t know you did that here,” Charlotte responded, intrigued by this upscale version of one of her favorite dining establishments in Beverley.

“Well, it isn’t every day that Henry Livingston brings a date to dinner. In fact, I have never seen him, here or anywhere for that matter, with a date.” Henry blushed, sure that everyone in town would know tomorrow about his dinner with Charlotte. “That is okay, though, because he was clearly holding out for one of the best ladies in the city, state, country, all of it.” Miguel beamed at them while rubbing his hands together. “Now, you two sit back and enjoy. We will start you out with some passionfruit margaritas, sí?”

Astonished by the posh service, the little touches Miguel made for tonight were impressive, and judging from Charlotte’s delighted face, she thought so, too.

After Miguel left their table, nervousness settled into Charlotte, and she pushed her glasses up her nose. “Henry, I can’t believe all of this! I’ve never…I mean, no one’s ever done anything like this for me.” Instinctively, her hand reached for his, and she slipped her fingers into his outstretched palm. During thirty years of marriage, Brady had surprised her exactly twice: her thirty-fifth birthday, when he’d gotten them front-row tickets to a Linda Ronstadt concert in Des Moines, and their twentieth anniversary, when they’d had a weekend stay in Minneapolis. Her ex had certainly never communicated so much with his eyes while speaking so little with his mouth like Henry could. Stop comparing Henry to Brady—for much of their marriage, she had been happy, she reminded herself. What she hadn’t been was aroused to the point of distraction by one look.

A shadow crossed their table, startling them into releasing each other’s hands. Javier, Miguel’s son, carefully placed their drinks in front of them. “Drinks are on the house, Mr. Livingston. Ever since you worked your magic on my truck, it has been running perfectly.” To Charlotte, Javier explained, “One morning, I was on my way to Rapid City when my truck quit. Wretched thing is thirty years old, and I know I need to get a newer one. Anyway, I called the auto club. They told me a tow truck would come, but it would take over an hour to arrive. It was the dead of winter, freezing, and not even dawn yet, and I was stuck ten miles out of Beverley. I called Henry. He was there, with his tow truck, in fifteen minutes.”

Uncomfortable with excessive praise, Henry simply stated, “If you had called anyone else at my shop, they would have done it.”

“Maybe if it had been during work hours, but I called your cellphone. You went above and beyond. You always do.” With that, Javier left the table.

Charlotte’s dark eyebrow arched. “I didn’t know you were such a celebrity, Mr. Livingston,” she teased, knowing the falsity of her words. She had yet to come across anyone with a bad word to say about him. His “aww, shucks” demeanor might seem insincere on anyone else, but he meant it when he shrugged at her.

“Just years of making connections with this community,” he murmured, ready to talk about anything but work. Even though his shop had aided him in carving out the life he gave Josh, affording him the ability to pay for all of his son’s schooling, he loathed having his identity wrapped up in the shop. Out of necessity, he had made his career as a mechanic, not by his own free will.

“I think it’s more than that,” Charlotte insisted gently. “You sell yourself short if you don’t realize how important you are in this town.” When he cast his eyes to his drink, she said, “Henry,” and waited for him to look up. “Almost everyone I’ve met in Beverley has a story about how you’ve helped them…but not just that. Tonight, for instance. Our tasting menu Miguel is making—that’s because of you. And these peonies, they’re like the ones you brought me.” Charlotte brushed the downy petals with her fingers.

“I asked them to put some on our table…is it too much? I didn’t know-”

“They’re stunning, Henry.” She wanted nothing more than to drown in his eyes, pools of haunting blue in the candlelight.

“They’re nothing compared to you,” he said, clenching with desire as Charlotte caressed the flowers, blushing.

“All of this is truly spectacular. I’m so touched. It’s as if you had days, weeks, to prepare for tonight, instead of a few hours. How did you have time to arrange everything?”

“When something matters, you find a way to make things happen.”

Dear lord, had his voice dropped an octave? She needed a drink to center herself. “I propose a toast.” Charlotte lifted her margarita.

Charmed by her effervescence, which effortlessly lifted his spirits even higher, Henry grinned back at her. “I agree. To you, Charlotte, for suggesting we go out tonight.”

Charlotte giggled. “How did you know I was going to toast myself?” As he tipped his head back in laughter, her heart beat erratically. His throat, so elegantly provocative, was just where she yearned to run her tongue, from his chin to his shoulder. His glass clinked hers, saving her from throwing herself at him over the table.

Javier presented their appetizer. “Dad thought you two would enjoy these. Pork belly tostadas. It’s a recipe he’s been testing for a couple of months. Only one plate, Dad said, to bring you closer.” With a flourish, Javier put the plate in the center of the table, sprinkling it with something Henry didn’t recognize. Before he could ask, Javier was gone. What was he supposed to do now? Slide the plate to Charlotte? Or try it himself first before offering it to her? Awkward and completely out of his depth, he unfolded his napkin, remaining still until Charlotte reached for the plate.

“I think maybe…” Charlotte cleared her throat. “Maybe the intention is to feed each other?” Unsure how she was going to survive with her hands that close to his sensuous mouth, she held the tostada up to Henry. After he bit down, his tongue caught some of the sauce in the corner of his mouth just as Charlotte grazed her finger along his bottom lip. Feeding Henry was one of the most titillating experiences of her life, and when he offered her a bite, she parted her lips, brazenly closing her mouth around his finger, her eyes never leaving his. “Delicious,” she murmured. The crispy corn base, topped with perfectly tender pork and finished with a drizzle of something both subtly sweet and slightly spicy, was incredible, yet not half as delectable as Henry.

Unsure how he was going to make it through the rest of this dinner without bursting into flames, he gulped his margarita and then winced. Tasty, but sweeter than what he normally drank, Henry debated if it would be rude to order a Modelo.

Charlotte giggled. “Based on your expression, I get the idea that you might prefer something else to drink.”

Henry shrugged. “I don’t want to offend Miguel.”

“I’m sure he’d understand.” She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “Have you always been so considerate of everyone else?” Charlotte asked softly.

“I don’t know what you mean—” he started.

“Drinking something you’re clearly not enjoying, instead of having what you want, to spare potentially insulting Miguel. Answering your phone in the middle of the night to tow someone’s truck back to town. Helping a friend for months after her husband’s health took a turn.” She couldn’t help but lump herself in, adding, “Taking a woman out on a date to repay her for spilling water on her coat?”

Henry gave a short chuckle. “I’m sure my ex-wife would have something to say about me being considerate of everyone else. One of her biggest issues was that I was selfish, in fact…” He shook his head, telling Charlotte, “Never mind. The last thing I want to do tonight is discuss the past. Instead, I hope you know that tonight is not about me feeling bad about spilling water or repaying you.” He pinned her with his blue eyes. “I’ve wanted to ask you out since the first time you came into my shop.” He shook his silvery-blond head again. “No, wait, before that, even. Go back to the first time I saw you outside of Mr. Beans, two years ago. But the timing was…”

“I understand. Life got in the way.” Charlotte caught the relief that flashed across his features. “I’m glad we’re here tonight.”

Javier stopped by their table. “Henry, your margarita is where it was when I brought your appetizer,” he laughed. “Would you prefer a beer?”

Henry began to refuse when Charlotte interrupted. “That would be appreciated, Javier.” After he left, she said, “I think we should both get what we want.”

Henry shifted in his seat. All he wanted was the woman sitting at this table with him, the one whose dark hair glinted with candlelight, the one whose smile made the cutest pair of dimples appear in her cheeks, the one whose curves he had fantasized about far too often. The one who had been brave when he wasn’t, the one who still got emotional when talking about her parents, the one who cared about not just her students or the friends she had made, but the town she’d only lived in for a short while. Charlotte exuded life and peace and contentment.

A Modelo was suddenly at his elbow, along with their entrees. “For you, Henry, a lamb mole, and for you, Charlotte, chile-rubbed pheasant.” With a mortar and pestle, Javier quickly assembled table-side guacamole. “And, of course, our house-made corn tortillas. Buen Provecho!”

“Everything looks divine!” Charlotte exclaimed. She sampled her pheasant, and her eyes closed in bliss. “Amazing…absolutely amazing.” Javier grinned, then left.

“I was never a fan of mole until I had it here,” Henry confessed to Charlotte after taking a second bite. “I don’t know what Miguel does. I’ve tried to make it at home, and it never turns out.”

“Do you cook, then, Henry?” Charlotte loved to cook, but found that doing it only for herself wasn’t as satisfying. On the flip side, she could experiment more with flavors now that she was single. Brady had possessed a very limited palate with no willingness to expand.

“I do, and I’ve gotten more creative the older I get. Josh and I struggled through a few years where we ate too much junk, like frozen dinners and ready-made meals. But now, I like the challenge of trying something new.”

“I know what you mean. Like this pheasant. Since my dad hunted, I grew up eating it, but not like this. I never would’ve thought to add cumin and cayenne…and I think I even taste some cinnamon. So delicious. Yours looks incredible.”

“Do you like mole?”

“Would you believe I’ve never had it?”

“What? Charlotte, you have been missing Miguel’s best dish. Here,” he said, scooping up a bite-sized portion on his fork, “try mine.”

A tendril of her hair slipped out of her updo, curling onto her shoulder, as she leaned across the table for a bite. “Mmm,” Charlotte moaned. “That’s so good.”

Intoxicated by her sensuality, Henry allowed his gaze to drift down slightly, where the candlelight danced warmly on her shoulders. The neckline of her dress had dipped, and while it wasn’t overly revealing, on Charlotte it was sexy. Keeping his eyes over her head as she straightened, he figured that discussing their kids would provide a welcome distraction. “Since you know my son so well, tell me about your daughter.”

Beaming, she said, “Isobel? She’s the one thing I got right in this world.”

Nodding in agreement, Henry said, “I get that. There was life before Josh and life after Josh. Nothing compares to that feeling when he needs my advice or guidance, you know? It’s the same as when he was a newborn and he opened up his eyes…looked right into me.” He paused for a drink, then continued, “The time Isobel was at the shop, I was struck by how much she looked like you.”

Charlotte raised her head, surprised. “You think so?”

“Absolutely—the eyes, that same tilt to the head that you have. Your dimples,” Henry pointed out, making Charlotte’s cheeks turn a delicate pink.

“Everyone has always said that she looks like her dad, and she does, but I’ve always thought there was a lot of me in her, too.” Charlotte’s eyes held Henry’s, her smile slipping under his intense gaze.

“Is she a teacher, like you?” To prevent himself from touching her, he rubbed his thumb around the rim of his water goblet.

“No, she’s a nurse, like my friend Amy, who’s the closest thing Isobel has to an aunt, since both my ex and I are only children. They actually work in the same hospital in Sioux City. She’s so driven and passionate about medicine and helping people. Brilliant, too, and I’m not just saying that because I’m her mom. She loves exploring the world, learning about new places. Her dream is to be a traveling nurse.”

“Wow, really? What an amazing opportunity that would be. When Josh went to college in New York City, I was so proud of him. He had Liam there, but he was essentially on his own because they went to different schools.”

“They’re close, aren’t they…Liam and Josh?”

“Like brothers more than cousins. They’re only six months apart.”

Charlotte finished her entrée. “That’s something I regret for Isobel—she doesn’t even have a cousin, no one she grew up with. We never intended for her to be an only child, but…” she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I wanted to wait so I could go to college after she started kindergarten. Then, when I graduated, I began teaching. After a couple of years, when Isobel was about eleven, we tried for another baby, but no luck. It was disappointing, but I took it as a sign to concentrate on my career, focus all my attention on my daughter…on teaching.” That had been something Brady complained about—that after Isobel, teaching, and even Amy, Charlotte had nothing left for him. Never mind that he had his poker nights with his buddies, the football games he attended, and his own career.

Henry said, “I wanted more kids, too, but Josh’s mom wasn’t…cut out for motherhood, you could say.” In wonder, he looked away. Their lives mirrored each other’s, from catapulting them into adult responsibilities as teenagers to marriages that had let them down as adults. The air hung heavy between them.

Was Henry considering a second chance at love, Charlotte mused, like she was? Only two years had passed since her divorce, but in some ways the time felt shorter. Henry, genuinely sexy and effortlessly handsome, had her yearning for him, but she was cautious. He’d been single longer, so what had stopped him from dating? Not wanting to get hurt again, or an unwillingness to be vulnerable? Too much to think about on their first date, so she aimed for levity. “Well, clearly, our children are close to perfect, which they obviously get from us.”

Henry gratefully grinned. “I’ll drink to that.” After toasting, with their eyes on each other, they sipped their drinks. “I wonder what Miguel has planned for the last course?” He would stay at La Hacienda, eating dish after dish, if it meant Charlotte was across the table, her knees brushing his under the table every time either of them shifted, the motion driving him to insanity.

“I have a suggestion.” Should she be impulsive? She was aching to be alone with him, but hesitant in case he didn’t feel the same. “I made some brownies this afternoon. We could go back to my house, warm them up? I have a stash of vanilla ice cream I keep on hand, too.” She ran a finger around the salty rim of her margarita glass, peering at Henry from underneath her eyelashes. “How do you feel about brownie sundaes?”

Eager to escape the endless chatter from other diners, he agreed. “I would love that.” Another curl of her hair drifted down to her neck, disappearing into the valley between her breasts. He signaled Javier, who promptly arrived at the table.

“Dad says this is on him.” When Henry attempted to protest the free dinner, he said, “He insists, and you know my dad. Stubborn as the day is long.”

“Tell him I appreciate everything he did tonight.” Javier saluted him and walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen. After placing three fifty-dollar bills on the table as a tip for the staff, Henry picked up Charlotte’s coat, holding it open for her. Through the wool, his hands pressed into her shoulders ever so briefly; in response, her head tilted back and rested on his chest. Charlotte slipped her hand into his, shivering when his thumb tickled her palm. “I’m ready,” she told him.

The snow continued to fall, and pillowy mounds of it lined the sidewalk to the car. Henry should be freezing, but Charlotte had invaded every one of his senses, making him burn from within, especially now, with her knee rubbing his as she huddled closer to the heat beginning to emanate from the vent. Waiting for the car to warm up and the windows to defog, he said, “I know I touched on this at dinner, but I regret letting so much time pass before tonight happened. It’s just…it’s not easy, is it? Dating at our age, learning how to trust…opening ourselves up.”

“I know what you mean. After my divorce, I vowed to live my life differently. Independently. I sacrificed so much of myself when I was married. Seeing you…meeting you…I hadn’t planned on that, and I surprised myself by asking you out.” She forced herself to add, “I hope you don’t feel like I manipulated you into tonight.”

“Never!” Facing her, he said, “Believe me, I’ve had plenty of experiences being manipulated.” With the windshield finally free from ice, he pulled away from the curb. Melanie had been a master, excelling in the art of twisting his mind into knots. Then, of course, there was DD. People, especially his siblings, had questioned his judgment when he had agreed to help her, but how could he have turned her down? They were going to be family when Josh and Effie married. “Full disclosure: I’m not the saint half this town thinks I am. I’ve made some regrettable decisions in my life and wish I’d done many things differently.”

“I think we all have. I know I did. I wasn’t happy in my marriage, but I just told myself to grin and bear it, that other people…other couples…have it worse. In the end, staying together probably made Isobel’s life easier, but keeping my discontent from Brady wasn’t fair to him, and it kept him from finding love, maybe having a chance at more kids, just so I didn’t have to disrupt my life.”

“How did things end?”

“He met someone else. Told me he thought he was in love. We separated, and then he asked for a divorce.”

Henry shook his head. “I still question his sanity about that.” Charlotte smiled, but he hadn’t meant it as a joke. “At least he talked to you, though. I woke up one day and Melanie was gone.”

“So your wife just…left?” Of course, she’d heard about this from Ruth, but it hit harder coming from Henry.

Henry sighed. “Out of the blue, and without a word to me or Josh.”

He was silent, and Charlotte worried this was too difficult for him. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”

“No, I want to.” He rarely talked about what happened or how he’d felt back then…and still now, he guessed. Maybe occasionally with Juan or George, sometimes his sister, but he preferred to leave it in the past. Something told him, though, that if he wanted anything significant with Charlotte, she needed to understand this part of his past. Telling her his past while he was driving spared him having to see her reaction. “After she…after she left…it was difficult. We still lived in Clover Lake, which is tiny compared to Beverley. Everybody knew us…knew the issues we had. The constant checking in from everyone, the looks of pity. It was too much for me, but especially for Josh. He was only twelve. After a couple of years, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I decided that moving to Beverley would be a fresh start. Far enough away from my past that we could start fresh, but close enough still to my family. When I was looking at homes here, I told the realtor—not Carla, by the way—that my wife was gone. Well, she assumed that gone meant…that I was a widower. And I never corrected her. By the time we moved here, it seemed she had told everyone she knew about the ‘nice widower with the teenage son’. Juan knew the truth because we’ve known each other since we worked together one summer at the Grand Canyon. Coincidentally, that’s also where I met Josh’s mom.” He pulled into her driveway and parked the car, forcing himself to look at her to gauge her expression. No disgust at his bombshell, simply her openly beautiful face. “Anyway, I just didn’t want to explain myself, so I let people believe the lie. Only recently has anyone outside my family learned the truth. If this changes things, I understand.”

With Henry’s pain still palpable, Charlotte considered how sharp it must have been back then, when it was raw and fresh. His revelation certainly didn’t lower her opinion of his character, and considering she had picked up her entire life to move to a new state upon her divorce, she was the last person to judge anyone else’s actions when their marriage ended. What she couldn’t understand was a parent leaving their child. Part of her couldn’t help but be curious about Melanie. What was her side of the story? She couldn’t be all bad, since Henry had loved her. “And you never heard from her?”

Should he confess that his ex did occasionally reach out with unwelcome calls and texts? “Actually,” he started, then hesitated. With no plans to ever see Melanie again, wouldn’t that make things more difficult between himself and Charlotte? Best to just leave her in the past, where she belonged, like he’d finally done with DD. “She was never the most reliable person,” he answered vaguely.

“I’m so sorry, for you and for Josh, about what happened.” Her hand stroked his coat-covered arm.

“Thank you.” Henry cut the engine and turned to Charlotte, enticingly beautiful next to him. “I don’t want to spend another minute tonight talking about our exes. Not when I am lucky enough to be here with you.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

“Does that mean you’ll come inside for dessert?” Please say yes, she thought.

He really shouldn’t. “Are you sure? It’s late…”

“I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” she whispered.

Behind her glasses, her brown eyes were wide and irresistible. “I would love to.”

While Henry rounded the car to open her door, Charlotte fumbled in her purse for her house key, suddenly beset by nerves and a plethora of conflicting feelings: brazen yet shy, bold but scared, aroused and safe. “May I?” Henry inquired, wrapping his hand around hers and deftly withdrawing her house key from her fingers. Hand in hand, they ascended her front steps.

Once inside, Charlotte told Henry, “Make yourself comfortable,” and instead of turning on the overhead light, flipped on a table lamp next to the door.

In the dim lighting, her living room was intimate, spiking Henry’s nervousness until he found a distraction in a corner. “Is that a stereo?” He went to the mid-century console, almost as large as a dining room table, on the other side of the front windows. “How did I not notice this before?”

“It belonged to my paternal grandparents.” She watched as he ran a lean hand over the polished cherry top.

“My parents had one like this in our living room when we were growing up. My brother has it now.”

“Well, my parents, my mom especially, loved music, so there is just about every genre to choose from. I also can’t stop myself from buying vinyl from record stores. Just something about-”

“That sound when you first drop the needle.” Henry nodded, basking in the warm glow of her smile. “I bought a record player that hooks up to my computer at home, so I can upload albums I love and listen to them on my phone. Still not like hearing it from these speakers, but the feel for the record comes across. I agree, there’s nothing like it.”

Close enough to touch, they stood not moving, the air between them thick with desire. Henry’s ocean eyes filled Charlotte with an intensity she’d only ever read about but never experienced. “Do you want to pick out a record while I go hang up my coat?”

“I’d love to,” he said, and for the second time that night, watched her walk down the hallway to her bedroom, every nerve in his body thrumming with want. Henry hung his coat up by the door, then focused on her record collection, thumbing through until he stopped at James Taylor.

In her room, Charlotte leaned her back against the wall, second-guessing her decision to bring Henry back to her house, too aware of him and the primal effect he was having on her body. Her sexual history began and ended with Brady, rarely experiencing one of the mind-blowing orgasms Amy often described. What would it be like to have Henry here in her bedroom? Slowly untying the belt of her dress? Cupping her breasts in his large hands? Sliding her fingers through his silvery hair as it brushed against her thigh, like in the dreams she’d had of him. Based on his quiet strength, she imagined he’d be extremely thorough and exacting. Sighing, she slipped out of her coat and grabbed a hanger from the closet, shoving it into her coat with more force than was probably necessary. Unfortunately, she used the same brute strength to hang it up, emitting a terrified scream as the shelf above the rod came crashing down.

Just as he lowered the needle to the record, a thud, followed by a yelp, alerted Henry’s attention to the back of the house. “Charlotte?”

“Damn!” Charlotte yelled, cursing her decision to make this first-floor bedroom her primary one, instead of one upstairs. Overlooking the small closet and lack of storage in the room, she’d allowed herself to be entranced by the patio on the other side of the sliding glass door, where flowering bushes—rose, hydrangea, lilac, and azalea—bloomed sporadically from spring to fall.

“Charlotte?” Henry called again, racing down the hallway before halting in the doorway of her bedroom, transfixed by this lovely woman draped in various pieces of clothing in her closet. “What on earth?” When Charlotte turned, both laughed, and her lilting chords were a siren song, drawing him in even further.

“The shelf fell,” she unnecessarily explained.

“Are you okay?” Trying to ignore the lingerie draped over the end of the bed, he made a beeline for the closet.

“Yes, just annoyed,” Charlotte moaned. “What am I going to do?”

Instinct made him reach for the shelf, but Henry hadn’t considered how the action would bring his body so close to Charlotte’s. The softness of her breasts teased his belly as he held the shelf up. He needed a diversion immediately, so he offered, “I can see that the screws just came out on this side. I have tools in my vehicle I can run out to get.”

“What do you need? I have a small toolbox in the kitchen.”

“A screwdriver for now-”

“I have one of those. I’ll go get it.” Darting under his arm, she escaped before her desire took over. Humming to the soft sounds of James Taylor, she retrieved the screwdriver and headed back to her bedroom.

As “Handy Man” played, his calloused fingertips grazed her softer ones when he took the tool from her, and he was powerless to stop a shiver. How did one touch from her, even a casual one, send him soaring?

Henry had pushed his long sleeves up, baring forearms lean with muscle and dusted with silvery hairs. As he arched to one side, stretching to align the shelf, Charlotte trembled, recalling his arm around her waist as they left the restaurant. “Can you just hold up this end?” She stepped into the closet again to help him. Reaching over her, he secured the shelf with the screws. “There, got it,” he grunted. She fanned herself with her hand. If they didn’t get out of the bedroom now, she would spontaneously combust. Whatever he was doing involved lots of screwing…and tightening; to save herself, she ducked under his elbow and out of the closet.

Henry worked quickly, still burning from the heat she emanated when she stood under him. He tried, he did his damndest, not to appreciate the curve of her hips or the full swell of her breasts, but he was a mere mortal, and Charlotte was a goddess. “Want to hand me the stuff on the floor? I can hang everything up again,” he croaked, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears.

Even though keeping Henry in her bedroom for longer than necessary was a terrible idea, she picked up some coats at her feet. As she stepped forward to give them to him, she tripped, feet tangling in an oversized eternity scarf Amy had given her last year for Christmas. His heat scorched her through her dress when she collided with his firm body, and his hands grasped her shoulders. For the briefest moment, she sank against his broad chest. When was the last time a man’s touch lit her nerves on fire? His scent, like a forest after it rained, surrounded her, stirring her thirst for him. Above the top snap of his Western shirt, she glimpsed a tantalizing view of his chest, making her long to pull apart the shiny snaps lining the center, exposing the hot skin underneath in one motion. Her imagination was running wild, because ever since meeting Henry, she’d imagined the two of them, all too often, entwined on her bed. His sex appeal overwhelmed her, and she swallowed the moan making its way up her throat.

“Charlotte.” Pulling her voluptuous form closer, unable to bear another moment of not touching her, his hands trailed up her back, savoring her lush curves. Another rich brown tendril escaped from her topknot, and gently he tugged it; the mass of her hair flooding over his hands. Her hair clip thudded onto the carpet, unnoticed by either of them.

Charlotte dropped the coats in her hands so she could run them up his chest to his shirt collar, using it as leverage to bring his head down to hers. Her lips met his fiercely, savoring the minty tang from the candy they’d gotten on the way out of La Hacienda.

Henry gasped into her open mouth, stilling the back of her head with both hands to taste her more thoroughly. Quaking when she popped open his shirt snaps, he grew mindless as she dove her hands inside, stroking his chest. Calling upon every ounce of restraint he possessed, he raised his head, but Charlotte peered at him from underneath smoky eyelashes, her eyes glazed and lips moist from his, and he couldn’t move from her.

With his calloused hands holding her face, Charlotte brushed her lips over his, needing his mouth. “Charlotte, we-” he began, and she silenced him with her mouth, stroking her fingers down his chest to his stomach, where he couldn’t hide the shudder reverberating through his body.

“Henry,” she whispered. “Henry.”

His name was an incantation, but he hesitated, loath to cross a line with her, afraid she might regret anything that happened tonight. “Charlotte, you are extraordinary, and this night has been perfect.” His hands clutched her rocking hips as he fought to regain his breath. “But I’m not expecting-”

Plunging her hands into his sexy, silver-streaked hair, she stood on her tiptoes, her open mouth crashing into his until he matched her urgency with his own intensity. “Touch me,” she begged, yanking his shirt free from his jeans. Her scarlet nails scraped his back as he untied the belt of her dress. She maneuvered them to her bed, laying down as he kneeled above her.

Henry’s mouth traveled down the pale skin of her neck while his fingertips skimmed the tops of her breasts pushing over her neckline, and he groaned at her plump softness. Dipping his head, his mouth followed the same path, discovering the honeyed sweetness of her flesh. Drifting his hand lower, two fingers tangled in the hem of her dress as his thumb caressed the silky flesh of Charlotte’s inner thigh through her tights.

Her breath caught in her throat as she smoothed the line of hair from his chest to his waist. Working quickly, she unbuckled his belt, then unsnapped his jeans. “Are you sure about this, Charlotte?” She nodded furiously, certain she’d never wanted anything more in her life. Henry’s shirt hung down, curtaining them as he settled between her thighs. She shivered from his heat, his strength, his masculinity. Bracing himself on his elbows, he framed her face with his hands and kissed her before removing her glasses. “You’re so stunning.” Resting his palms on her hips, he tugged on the waistband of her tights.

Suddenly, her legs clamped together. “I’m…I’m sorry. This isn’t…I can’t…” she stuttered.

“Charlotte?” Henry pulled back. Had he unknowingly crossed a line with her?

Squeezing her eyes shut, she flushed with shame. “I’m sorry, I know I started this...”

“Whatever it is, just tell me,” he implored. “If I’ve upset you, I apologize⁠—”

“No,” she broke in, “it’s all me. It’s just…I’ve never…” Using every ounce of courage, she tried to explain. “I’ve never been with anyone but my ex, and I’m…” terrified, she silently confessed. Of everything: Henry regretting tonight, either of them waking with doubts in the morning, the town knowing about them. It was too much pressure, too soon. “I’m sorry, Henry.” Unable to bear the disappointment on his face, Charlotte shut her eyes and turned onto her side.

As he snapped his shirt, Henry knew she was right. Stopping was the only thing that made sense. They both needed time to figure everything out, and he breathed in deeply to clear his head. “It’s okay, Charlotte” Leaning down to her, Henry brushed an errant curl from her forehead, wishing her gorgeous brown eyes were open. “Good night,” he told her before making himself turn to leave. In the living room, he grabbed his coat from the sofa before looking back toward her room, hoping for one last glimpse of her.

Almost Forty Years Ago

Melanie’s favorite Fleetwood Mac song played on the radio when the nurse announced, with a little too much satisfaction, “Well, you’re pregnant.”

Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t have heard that right. “Excuse me?” She’d been in the camp office for half an hour, which was about as boring as letting nail polish dry, expecting the nurse to tell her she had a bug or maybe food poisoning.

Waving a piece of paper in front of Melanie, the nurse said, “I keep telling them to keep you boys and girls separate over there at the love shack. You’re the fourth one this summer. Maybe they’ll listen to me next year.”

The nurse must be wrong…she couldn’t be pregnant, not when she was so close to realizing her dream. Since the day she met Henry, everything had been going right for her. After hearing about her car breaking down and her lack of money, the sweetest boy she’d ever met had not only given her a ride to the Grand Canyon but also helped her get a job there with him at the gift shop. After two months of work, she finally had enough money saved to make it the rest of the way to California. “No! You’re wrong! I just ate some bad chicken the other night, that’s all!” A group of employees had gotten together for one last party of the summer three nights ago. Juan always thought he knew everything, so he manned the grill, and against her better judgment, she ate two chicken legs.

“Sweetie, I don’t know about any chicken, but I do know how to read a pregnancy test, and you are positive. Just count yourself lucky that it’s the end of the summer and not the beginning. You’re going back home soon, and you’ll have your family to help you.” The nurse turned around to take some pamphlets out of a drawer. “Not so sure about your boyfriend, though.”

Her boyfriend. Henry. The night she had given him her virginity, they had hiked up to a small peak overlooking an area in a bend of the Colorado River, one of their favorite places to be alone, and she liked to be alone with Henry. A lot. On a Navajo blanket he had spread out on the ground, she had lain in his arms under the stars while he pointed out the constellations, explaining the mythology behind each one. Aside from being handsome, he was the most fascinating boy she’d ever known. He had kissed her tenderly until she wriggled beneath him, needing him in a way she hadn’t understood. He made her feel so good, and she wanted more, so she took his hand and put it under her shirt. With coyotes howling in the distance and the wind whistling through sagebrush, all she cared about was Henry, and when they were done, they talked about their future. After his first semester in college, in whatever Dakota, she suggested that he could transfer to a school in Los Angeles so they could be together. “You can send me money and I’ll find an apartment for us. Something real big, with space for all your medical books.” One of the things Melanie loved most about Henry was that he was gonna be a doctor. In her mind, Melanie painted a picture of what their life would look like in ten years: Henry a successful doctor in Beverly Hills, and Melanie an Academy Award-winning movie star, with her name above the title on movie posters.

Now what? Surely the nurse had to be wrong. Melanie implored her, “But I thought you never get pregnant your first time…”

The nurse sighed. “Wrong. It only takes one time to get pregnant.”

“So, Mama wasn’t exaggeratin’. I thought she was. Only, I figured if it couldn’t happen the first time, it didn’t make a difference if we did it a second time…” Oh, god, Mama…Melanie hadn’t spoken to her mama since she’d arrived at the Grand Canyon. Mama had been spittin’ nails, pissed off about the car breakin’ down, like it had been Melanie’s fault! When she’d told Mama she’d left the car in Alabama, her mama’s scream had echoed in the pay phone, nearly bustin’ Melanie’s eardrum.

“I swear to god, you hightail your little ass back to where you left that car until your Uncle Jake meets you there,” Mama had screamed.

“Mama, I can’t. I met this boy, and he helped me get a job for the summer at the Grand Canyon. Then I’m goin’ to California.”

“Mellie, do you know how many good things come after a girl says ‘I met this boy?’ Nothin’! I swear to god, if you get yourself knocked up, you are not comin’ back, cryin’ to me. I have enough to take care of with your little sister. And you better be fixin’ to send some of that money so I can get my car—” In the middle of being cussed out, Melanie had hung up. If only her mama had listened about her dreams, about Henry, she’d have understood.

How she was going to tell Henry that instead of going back to whatever Dakota, he’d have to come to California? She didn’t doubt, not even a little bit, that once he knew she was pregnant, he would support her. Still, a flutter of guilt rose in her chest at the idea that he would have to readjust his life, but California was the land of opportunity, more for him there than wherever he was from. He’d have to get a job, of course, but he could still go to college, eventually. He would still be a doctor. She was lucky, she told herself, imagining all the other boys who could’ve been sitting on that bench the day she’d arrived, instead of her sweet and handsome Henry. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered to herself.

Putting a spring in her step, determined to make Henry see things her way, Melanie left the nurse. When she got to the gift shop, he was just coming from his lunch break. “Mellie, Juan and Angela are going to the east side of the canyon tonight to meet up with some hikers they met in the restaurant.” He sighed. “They’re old enough to drink, so they have some beers and stuff Juan said.” A party was never Henry’s idea of fun, but Melanie loved them because it gave her a reason to be the center of attention, even if they sometimes caused an argument between her and Henry. But now she had a baby to consider and a future to plan.

“Actually, Henry, why don’t just the two of us do something?” Studying him, she thought about the kind of father he would be…the kind she never had, what sort of life he would provide for them. He would be totally different from the men her mama had hooked up with. Henry would never leer at a woman; hell, she’d never even caught him glancing at anyone else, and there were plenty of beautiful girls working in the canyon, including Angela, who she had definitely seen staring at Henry when Juan wasn’t looking. Before Henry, if you had asked Melanie what kind of boy she’d end up with, she’d have said maybe a biker, like the ones in Pensacola on their Harleys, or an actor, like Rob Lowe, or maybe someone in a rock band: she had always thought Lindsey Buckingham was hot. And someone once told her she looked like Stevie Nicks, but taller. She could pull off those scarves, Melanie thought.

Henry showed up after her shift was over, with sandwiches and Fritos in his backpack. Melanie brought two bottles of Diet Pepsi, and as they hiked up to their peak, she practiced in her head how she was going to tell him. Maybe she wouldn’t have to tell him he had to move with her to Los Angeles. He was always doing little things for her, so he’d probably suggest it first. Settling underneath a ponderosa pine, she looked into Henry’s sky-blue eyes. Melanie took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m pregnant.” To her horror, she burst into tears.

“What?” Henry choked on his sandwich. “But…I thought…I just…I thought you were on the pill.” Their first night together, Henry had tried to stop, but Melanie wanted more. She told him it was okay, knowing he’d assume she meant birth control. Henry wiped the tears from her eyes, kissing her forehead. “It’s okay, Mellie. We’ll figure things out,” he reassured her. On top of that peak, in Henry’s arms, Melanie knew everything would be okay.

The next day, Henry left a note on her door, asking her to meet him at their peak again tonight. Thrumming with excitement, she guessed he was going to tell her he’d told his family, and his parents were going to make all the necessary arrangements for their move to California. Melanie had picked up that his family had money, or at least more money than her mama had, based on stories he had told her, like fancy vacations that they had taken and the house he had grown up in.

Ducking under a tree limb later that evening, Melanie was surprised to see Henry already there. “What is all this?” Melanie noted the bottle of sparkling cider in the open cooler filled with ice, plates that looked like the ones they used in the restaurant, and one of the fancy tablecloths from the banquet hall.

“Well, since I had the afternoon off, I wanted to make things special for you…for us,” he told her, kissing her cheek before pouring a glass of cider. “I asked Angie to hook me up with some of the food at the restaurant, and she made up this basket. We have fried chicken, potato salad, watermelon.”

Looking prouder than Melanie had ever seen him in the two months she had known him, Henry suddenly dropped to one knee in front of her. “Melanie, I think I loved you since I saw you get off that bus. This may not be the way we planned on things going, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” Taking her hand in his, he gazed into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

Squealing, she fell on top of Henry, knocking his ball cap off his head. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, kissing him all over his face. This was more perfect than anything she could’ve imagined. Now all he had to do was tell her they were leaving for California at the end of the week, when their jobs were over.

Henry chuckled and then took something from his pocket: a turquoise ring she recognized from the gift shop. “This isn’t much, but it’s what I can afford now. It’ll do until we get back home.”

As he took her hand in his, Melanie pulled away, confused. “What do you mean ‘get back home’?” Henry caught her hand again and slipped the ring onto her finger, after giving it a good shove at the bottom joint.

“Oh, this is the really cool thing,” Henry said, putting his cap back on. “I talked to my dad, and he told me he would put me on the schedule full-time at the auto shop as soon as we’re back in South Dakota.”

Back in South Dakota? What could he mean? There was no “back in South Dakota “ for Melanie, since she had never stepped foot in the state before. There was only “in South Dakota”, and that was not happening. For crying out loud, she only now knew which Dakota he came from! And working at an auto shop? “Henry, what are you talking about?”

“You and me. My parents are going to renovate the loft above the garage at their house in Clover Lake. Make it into an apartment for us. I’ll work in the shop, and you can stay home with the baby until he’s older. Or she,” he shrugged with a smile. “Who knows, maybe one day we’ll have one of each. Eventually, though, you’ll have to get a job, too, so we can afford our own house one day⁠—”

Melanie yanked her hand back from Henry’s. “I’m going to California. I didn’t run from Florida only to end up in bumfuck nowhere. I have dreams,” she cried, oblivious to anything but her own pain. “I want to be something, not a wife and mommy in Dakota.”

“But,” Henry said quietly, “I thought you loved me.”

“I do!” How would she get him to understand? “But not like this! Not living above a garage, like white trash! I had that already, Henry. You made it sound like your family has money.”

He paused, making her angrier. “They do, I suppose, but they’re not rich.” Reaching for her, he said, “It’ll be all right, Mellie⁠—”

“No, it won’t! What about you becoming a doctor?” What about his dreams of working in a hospital, taking care of people? He was going to give it up to be a mechanic? If she’d wanted a boy with dirt under his fingernails, she’d have stayed in the Redneck Riviera.

“I have other responsibilities now, as my dad told me last night. I can’t ignore them. He said that in a few years I could probably take some classes at the community college over in Beverley, then maybe we’d figure out how I could go to USD.” USD—the University of South Dakota, all Melanie had heard about, practically, for the whole summer. Now he was talking like it didn’t matter if he went there at all. Henry stroked her cheek. “We can make it work, Mellie. I love you. I promise that my family will love you,” he assured her. “They can’t wait to meet you.”

Maybe they could make it work…for a while. What other choice did she have, really? She could see that she wouldn’t be able to talk Henry into moving with her to California, not right now. And while she had some money saved, it wasn’t enough to make it on her own, not with a baby. She could handle it for a few years, with this boy—no, this man—who she knew loved her. She’d have the baby and watch every movie she could…well, the good ones, anyway…and she would hone her craft to become a brilliant actress, ready for Hollywood.

“Okay, I’ll marry you and move to Clover Lake.” What other choice did she have?

“I promise,” he said, raining kisses on her, “you will love my family. And my friends. And Clover Lake. We’ll have the best life.”

Sure they would. Once they got the hell out of South Dakota.

Caitriona Livingston pushed her glasses up her nose, flipping through her mail in her office that was situated just above Mr. Beans. The location couldn’t be more perfect thanks to its Main Street address; the only downside was her inability to ignore the call for coffee every few hours. And pastries. According to her scale, she’d been answering that call too frequently. Her eyes strayed out the window, her uncle Henry’s auto shop in her line of view. Had the time come to admit that she was truly living back here? When she’d come home two years ago, she had seen it as more of an extended stay…much like her cousin Josh had done with his own leave as a surgeon. Until he had chosen to remain in Beverley. But at least he had two good reasons to move back, she thought grudgingly: Effie and his career, whereas she had no reason. Accepting the reality that she wasn’t leaving meant having to find her own place to live. She had been lodging either with her parents or her grandparents, depending on which couple was out of town somewhere. Her family loved vacations, a privilege Cait, a workaholic, rarely afforded herself.

Fourteen years ago, when she left South Dakota to attend Tulane University in New Orleans, she never imagined making her home in the Gulf after graduation. But comfortability settled in, along with the chance to be her own person, far away from the Livingston reach of her dad’s family and the stranglehold of her mom’s family, the Kinsales. Another bonus had been not competing with her gorgeous, magnetic older brother. Thanks to his endless charisma, piercing gray eyes, and chestnut curls, Liam charmed anyone he met. With mousy brown hair that had a tendency to frizz (which her mom insisted on calling Irish curls) and eyes that were neither green nor blue (which didn’t matter because her glasses hid them anyway), people were stunned to learn she was his sister, a resentment she’d harbored since puberty. Over the past year, she had gradually replaced her harsher feelings for him with more generous ones because of his on-and-off heartbreak.

As she sorted through her mail, a letter with no return address caught her attention. Curious why it had no stamp or postmark on it, she wondered if it was junk mail intended for Kinsale Autos, the family business for which Cait was the legal counsel. But then why, she asked herself, was it addressed to her? Using a long, midnight-blue fingernail to open the envelope, Cait gasped as she read what was inside. “What? How dare he?” After all this time, he was making it official, never mind having already crushed her soul.

“Screw him,” Cait said under her breath, picking up her phone to send a nasty text. Although she hadn’t spoken to him since she’d left Alabama, she had thought about him, albeit less frequently with each passing day. And with less cursing each time he crossed her mind. Before she could type his name in, her cousin Josh texted:

Are we still on for this afternoon?

Effie and I are downstairs.

“Damn!” She’d forgotten about her lunch date with them to discuss their wedding and hurriedly replied:

Sorry, be right down!

Josh

What about Liam?

Cait

I haven’t heard from him…

That bastard’s letter had thrown her off, and now she was late. With the wedding just a couple of months away, the couple had asked Cait to officiate the ceremony. Ruth, also joining them, had appointed herself their wedding planner, despite also being the matron of honor and having three daughters under three. Despite Ruth’s occasionally overbearing manner, Cait had become friends with her since she’d been working in Beverley. They had known each other vaguely as teenagers, but back then Cait was a full-blown introvert who rarely hung out with her cousins or their friends. Unlike now, when she was an extroverted party animal, she noted wryly to herself.

After shoving the offensive letter into her purse, she pushed it out of her mind and flew down the creaky wooden stairs in the historic building, one of the oldest in Beverley. She appreciated all the woodwork, but not the way it seemed to announce every movement. Entering the coffee shop through its back door, she found the besotted couple at a front table with Ruth. Cait beckoned to a barista and ordered an iced S’mores latte before taking a seat at the table. “Would you like your usual chocolate croissant with that, Cait?” Sadie called across the cafe. Curse her. Cait had ignorantly believed that if she visited Mr. Beans at different times that perhaps no one would notice her repeat customer status.

“No,” Cait gritted her teeth. “Just the coffee.”

“Did you want the milk replaced with half and half, also, like you usually do?” Was it her imagination, or was Sadie yelling deliberately? She slithered away from her party to the counter. Goddamn, was Cait’s every move recorded into a little notebook, or what? She’d never had these issues when living in Mobile.

“No, Sadie, milk is just fine.” Mouth like a megaphone on her, she thought, studying what used to be her favorite barista. Not after this fiasco. “But I would like whipped cream,” she whispered.

Returning to the table, she found everyone staring at her. “So, is your brother coming, too?” Ruth was breastfeeding her newborn daughter, sipping an iced coffee, and scribbling on a pad in front of her. The woman was a master at multi-tasking, that was for sure; meanwhile, Cait tended to hyper-focus on one thing, most often to the detriment of everything else around her. Which was how she got into her mess in Mobile.

Cait shrugged. “No idea. I haven’t talked to or seen Liam in a while. To be honest, I’m concerned about him. I mean, this Lana person is dragging his heart around like it’s an accessory. Josh,” she looked to Josh, “does he even go out anymore?” He responded by shaking his head. “That’s what I was afraid of. The only thing he does for ‘fun’ is go to the gym or run.” And only her brother would consider those enjoyable pastimes. “She’s your friend.” She glared at Effie, annoyed that she had to defend her brother, and she considered how he’d changed in the last two years, becoming sullen, dejected, and serious. Sure, he was more career-driven, especially now that he taught math classes at Beverley Community College, but all at the expense of his formerly sunny self. His optimism used to drive her mad, but she missed it. “Does she think she’s better than my brother?” Since puberty, maybe before, Liam had always had females prancing around in front of him, eager to be next on his string of broken hearts. If he weren’t so devastated, there would be a certain irony that he was now hung up on the one woman seemingly immune to his many gifts.

Effie frowned. “It’s not that simple, Cait. Lana cares for Liam. She’s just…”

“Cautious,” Josh supplied. “Imagine finding out that the person you started to fall in love with isn’t who you thought.”

Ruth commented, “Well, I haven’t met Lana yet, but my sister adores her. They’ve become close, and Tess said she can’t imagine anyone else renting the apartment in their house.” Gag me, Cait thought. Was everyone a fan except her?

“Put yourself in Lana’s shoes, discovering that her love interest was none other than the playboy cousin I’d told her stories about,” Josh defended Lana while taking a bite of his cinnamon bun. “It shocked her, to say the least.”

Ignoring warning looks from everyone, Cait continued, “Okay, so? Not like he lied to her, or used her, or went behind her back and then stabbed her there⁠—”

“Stabbed who, where?” A deep voice behind her spoke. Grimacing, Cait put her face in her hands, unable to look at her brother. “Sounds a little personal, Caity.”

“Liam!” Effie smiled brightly, her voice a little too exuberant. “We weren’t sure you were coming.”

“Why wouldn’t I come? It’s a beautiful day outside, and I said I would be here.” Where had his upbeat attitude come from? He hadn’t been this way in months. “So, who were we gossiping about?” With an iced tea in one hand, he straddled a chair taken from a nearby table.

“Just somebody I work with.” Effie started.

Ruth said simultaneously, “Oh, someone Tess mentioned.”

Cait stared at him as Liam raised one of his chestnut-colored eyebrows, clearly not believing them but not challenging them either, thankfully. “Okay, now that Liam is here, let’s talk wedding.”

The group spent an hour discussing the order of the wedding, what readings and poems the bride and groom preferred, and what food they would serve for the reception. After Liam bought a round of beverages for the table, he surveyed the group. “Anyone going to the street dance tonight?”

“I think Sean and I will take the girls there for a bit, probably walk over with my parents.” Ruth stroked the bald head of her infant, who was sleeping soundly in the baby sling wrapped around her slight frame. “What about you guys?”

“My bride-to-be is insisting we go so we can practice our dance moves before the wedding.” Her cousin cupped Effie’s chin to kiss her, and Cait looked away from the intimate moment.

Effie laughed. “If I recall our conversation about the dance, you asked me if I had the dress and boots I wore two years ago.”

If Cait were romantic, the night Effie was referring to would have gone down as one of the most spectacular she had ever witnessed. Josh, after deciding to move back to South Dakota, surprised Effie with the news by decking out the gazebo in the town square with fairy lights, with the help of family and friends. In Cait’s opinion, it had been a bit over the top, but witnessing the couple so happy now almost made her believe in love.

“Is it me, or are the rodeo and dance early this summer?” Cait hadn’t gone to either since she was in high school.

Effie nodded. “According to the town council, it was too close to the state fair then, and they had been wanting to change the date for years. Thanks to the new mayor, she finally made it happen.”

“I think moving it up is good. Now it’s earlier than other towns. Sometimes people get burned out with street dances by August. Plus, it’s not too hot yet in June. The temperature is perfect today.” Ruth yawned. “Anyway, my mom has Eloisa and Arielle, so baby Jocelyn and I better hit the road.” Ruth hugged everyone before departing.

“Cait, what about you? Are you going?” Effie enquired.

“I’m not sure. I need to go and check out a house I’m thinking of renting.”

Liam glanced down at the phone in his hand, his expression unreadable to Cait. “The one over by the college?”

“Yeah. First, I have to stop by Uncle Henry’s shop. The realtor dropped the keys off over there. Why she couldn’t bring them here, I don’t know,” Cait grumbled.

Effie laughed. “Is this Carla we’re talking about?” At Cait’s nod, Effie continued, “She has a thing for Henry. Her major selling point as my realtor was the ‘attractive single man’ around the block. Never mind the age difference, or the fact that I had a crush on his son.”

“I shudder to think about that, actually.” Josh swiped a hand through his blond hair, and Effie’s own hand soon followed, but stayed at the back of his head, fingers playing with the hair resting on his collar. “And there’s no way Carla was ever Dad’s type.”

Effie nodded. “We all know his type now. Dark-haired English teacher.”

“What happened with Charlotte, anyway?” Liam crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps straining his sleeves. “It’s been a couple of months since their date, and I keep waiting to hear if they’re going on a second one.”

Josh shook his head. “I don’t know. The day after their date, I asked Dad how it went, and he said they had a great time at dinner, but wouldn’t go into any details. Said he wasn’t sure that Charlotte was ready to date. I told him to call her, but he said he wanted to give her time. I cautioned him not to wait too long. But as far as I know, he never reached out to her.”

“Charlotte told me they had a wonderful evening, but kind of hinted that something went awry.” Effie stroked her fiancé’s knee. “I wasn’t even divorced yet when Josh and I got together, but when I saw him, I knew he was the one for me. Even knowing that, it was scary to start something new. I’m sure that’s how Charlotte feels. And now Henry, bless him, is tied up again helping my mom since Burnie’s open-heart surgery last month. Remember last time she got her hooks into him? Took the jaws of life to pry him out.”

Josh crumpled a wrapper from a straw and tossed it into his empty cup. “You tried to warn him.”

“How’s your stepdad doing now?” Cait was familiar with Burnside’s health issues because her mom had been best friends with Diadema forever.

“He’s recovering, but slowly. I hope he’ll be well enough by the time our wedding rolls around. The thought of him not being there…” Effie sniffed, clearly holding back tears. “I resented him so much when I was growing up. It took a long time for us to have anything even resembling a father-daughter relationship, but the past couple of years he’s been so supportive of me.”

Josh held Effie close and put his lips to her ear while brushing his hand up and down her arm. “He will be. He’s seeing the best doctors in Sioux Falls.”

“I know.” Effie kissed Josh. “What would I do without you?”

When she kissed him again, Liam got up from his chair. “Okay. I’d better get back to the dealership. Lillian has to leave early today to pick up her kids.” Cait rolled her eyes. Lillian, the receptionist at Kinsale Autos, seemed competent at her job, but Cait found her too informal, often addressing her brother as “Liam” and not “Mr. Livingston”, despite the number of times Cait corrected her whenever she popped in. She suspected that the fact that Lillian was a widow with two small children had gotten her the job. Her frail beauty hadn’t hurt, either.

“Yeah, I should go, too.” Cait looked at her brother. “What about you, Liam? Are you going to the street dance?”

“Nah, I have a date with the gym. Catch you all later.”

“Cait, you’re going to see Henry this afternoon?” Effie inquired.

“Yeah, as soon as I leave.”

“Do you think you could encourage Henry to go to the dance tonight?”

Josh groaned. “Do I even want to know what scheme you’ve come up with in that gorgeous head of yours?”

“It’s not a scheme, babe, more like a helpful nudge in the right direction. Charlotte is dropping by the library for some books, so I thought if I talk to her and you talk to Henry, we could end this awkward impasse they have. If they got back on track, they could clear everything up.”

“I’ll try. I’d love to see Henry happy.” Her uncle and Charlotte could have something special, and if she could help them, she would. She may not believe in romance, but she did believe in happiness.

Outside, Cait opened the back door of her hybrid and tossed her purse in. Drifting out of her bag and falling under the driver’s seat was the piece of mail she’d received in her office, the one that had caused her so much angst. Without noticing it, she shut the car door and headed across the street to see her uncle.

George Livingston gave his wife a deep, lingering kiss after she pulled up to Check Care Auto. “Why’d we ever get out of bed this morning?” His hand drifted over her bare shoulder, her skin so smooth he shivered. Damn, he loved summer, glancing down appreciatively at his wife’s legs in shorts. Legs that had been astride his hips only an hour ago.

She laughed when his hand crept from her knee to her inner thigh. “George! Seriously, I have things to accomplish today other than satiating your fantasies.”

“Darlin’, we’ve been together since we were teenagers. Don’t blame me that you get sexier every year. Makes me create more fantasies.” One hard kiss later, and he was opening his door when his wife reached for him again.

“Let me know how Henry is, okay?” Nora’s hands cupped his scruffy cheeks, a reminder that he hadn’t shaved in several days. In a rush, after spending way too much time in bed this morning, he’d forgone shaving yet again. He and Nora had returned to South Dakota yesterday, after two days of canceled and delayed flights, from an anniversary trip in Europe. He would have preferred to spend the day locked away with his wife, but George was worried about his brother, with whom he hadn’t spoken in over a month. Even though Henry was the quietest of the siblings, he wasn’t altogether silent, so George thought he’d pop in to check on his little brother. “I’m going to run over and see Liam at the dealership.” Their son, a shell of his formerly upbeat self, was another concern, but when a Livingston man fell, he fell hard, and George didn’t need a license in therapy to understand that both Henry and Liam were each experiencing varying degrees of heartbreak.

“Love you.” George kissed Nora one more time. Because of the street dance tonight, Main Street was blocked off, so he walked around the barriers. A band was tuning up a few blocks down playing “American Girl”, and it echoed through downtown Beverley. With all proceeds going toward the fire department in town, the dance kicked off the two-day rodeo that started tomorrow. He and Nora usually attended both but were exhausted from their trip. George swore his wife never missed an opportunity to tour a castle, and climbing steep stone steps had been hell on his feet.

After opening the door to his brother’s shop, George called, “Hey, Henry,” looking around the immaculately clean auto shop and wondering why he couldn’t keep his shop as orderly.

“George!” Henry came from the back of the shop, greeting him with a bear hug and a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Downplaying his fraternal concern, George said, “Oh, Nora wanted to check in with Liam at the dealership.” Henry pulled a clean-looking cloth out of the back pocket of his coveralls to wipe his brow. “Business finally winding down for you for the day?” Leave it to his fastidious brother to be the last man standing at work on a Friday.

“The other guys went home a while ago, but I had some things to finish,” Henry claimed, rubbing his temple with newly cleaned fingers.

Walking into the office, he helped himself to a steaming cup of his brother’s delicious brew. Henry routinely downplayed his talents, but he was a masterful mechanic and an even better coffee technician; George imagined he would’ve made one hell of a doctor. “Are you feeling okay?”

Henry grimaced before slumping into his chair. “Yeah, I’m not sure if my eyesight is changing again or too many late nights,” Henry responded. “My head’s been pounding all day.”

“So what has you up so late?” As if he didn’t already know, thanks to his wife, who’d told him that Henry was helping DD again. George put up with the woman because she had been Nora’s best friend since grade school, but some antics of DD’s were hard to forgive and forget, number one being the callous way she had treated his brother repeatedly in the past. George groaned inwardly as Henry remained silent. “I know it’s DD.”

Henry’s face took on the determined look he used to get as a child, when he would try to convince the rest of the family that, despite being the youngest, he knew better than all of them. “I know you’re not fond of her, but she’s suffered since Burnside’s surgery. With the wedding coming up, I didn’t want to add any stress to Effie, so I just stepped up to help her.”

“I get you want to help Effie, but you know DD would never put you before anyone else.”

“I’m simply helping a friend. That’s all!” Henry’s tone was defensive, and George raised an eyebrow. “Dammit, my head is pounding and I have no idea where my glasses are!”

“Here they are.” George plucked them from the desk, inches from Henry’s elbow, and handed them to his brother.

Henry shook his head, sighing. “I forgot where I took them off earlier.” He popped two tablets from a bottle of Tylenol, washing them down with the coffee George poured for him, then unsnapped the top of his coveralls.

“I can’t believe you still wear those.” At his shop, he preferred wearing an ancient shirt and ratty jeans instead of the old-fashioned coveralls. “Didn’t Grandpa used to wear them, too?”

His brother chuckled half-heartedly. “These might actually be his. I just hate getting street clothes dirty, even if they’re old. Josh even started wearing them when he worked here.” No surprise, since Josh was an apple that didn’t fall far from his father’s tree. Henry tossed his Minnesota Twins ball cap on the desk. “Listen, I’m sorry I snapped about helping DD. I feel like I’m on pins and needles all the time.”

George waited for him to continue, but the office phone rang and his brother answered it. “Hello, thank for calling Check Care Auto, Henry speaking?” A brief pause, then, “Hello? How may I help you?” Another pause. “Hello…hello?” Henry hung up, frowning at the phone. “Well, that was weird.”

“Who was it?”

Henry shrugged. “No idea. I could hear breathing on the other end, but no one said anything.”

“Okay, so probably a wrong number.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Been getting them for a few weeks now. A couple times one of the guys picked up. Whoever it was asked for me by name.”

“Okay—you thinking stalker?” George laughed.

Henry hesitated briefly. “Worse.”

George grunted, “You’re thinking Melanie.”

Henry raked a hand through his hair. “It’s been over a year since I blocked her. Probably got tired of not being able to torture me on my cell.”

“You think she knows Josh is getting married?”

“I don’t know how she would. Even Dad swears he hasn’t told her.”

“And you believe him? I’ll never understand why he’s always had a soft spot for her.”

Henry nodded, refilling their cups. “You know, when Josh and Effie first got engaged, the three of us had a conversation about Melanie. I told him it was their decision to invite her or not. Josh was the one who pointed out every milestone she missed of his…choir and band competitions, drama performances, being inducted into the National Honor Society…” Henry sipped his coffee.

George continued for him, “… his graduations from high school, college, med school.” Every single accomplishment of his nephew was because of Henry’s support. After Melanie left, George marveled at his brother’s strength and how much fucking courage it took starting all over with his son in Beverley. “But you think Josh might regret not having his mother at his wedding…despite Melanie doing nothing for over twenty years?”

“I know, I know. In the end, he decided he didn’t want her there, so…” Henry held up his hands.

“So no invitation for mama,” George finished, studying his brother’s defeated stance. “Since we’ve talked about the other two women in your life, can I ask what happened with Charlotte?” His brother raised his head, shock written on his face. “You can’t be surprised I knew about the date. Everyone knew…the family, the guys at your shop…this entire town. Everyone was happy for you. You’re a good-looking guy, which is no wonder since it runs in the family, and Charlotte is amazing. Our sister adores her; your son is fond of her. It’s been, what, a couple of months, but here you are, alone in this garage on a Friday night.”

Henry moaned, “I don’t know what happened, honestly. Either I pushed things too far or rushed her. I don’t know,” he repeated, planting his face in his hands.

“What do you mean? Did you declare your undying love? Did you propose? What?” George prodded, joking but also serious. “Henry, I know you, and you don’t rush anything. You overthink and over-analyze. It can’t be as bad as you imagine.” George swatted him with the discarded baseball cap. “Tell me what happened.”

“She was gorgeous…perfect. She wore this dress that…” Henry broke off with another groan. “It was…magical. I sound like an idiot, don’t I?” No, George thought, shaking his head, he sounded like a man who cared, probably also why he sounded like he was in agony. “The food was incredible, and our table at the restaurant had all these candles, and we were in a corner by ourselves. She said she loved it. We talked about books, TV shows, movies, her students…how much she loves her job. Even talked about our marriages. You won’t believe this, but she got married right after high school, too.”

“So many did back then. All three of us did. Can you imagine if our kids got married that young? Neither of mine is even in a stable relationship.” Instead of laughing along, Henry remained silent. “If it went so well, why haven’t you gone out again with her?”

“She asked me to leave that night. I figured if she did that, she didn’t want to see me again,” Henry answered, his expression solemn.

What? “Wait, wait…something is missing.” George stared at his brother. “What aren’t you telling me?” Henry squirmed under his unwavering eyes. “Spill—there has to be more than what you’re saying.”

“Things got…intense…between us…after we went back to her house. We didn’t have sex, but it was…”

“Hot?” George supplied.

Henry rubbed the back of his neck, flushing. “Very.”

His brother offered nothing else, so George prodded, “And that’s when she threw you out?”

“Well, she didn’t exactly throw me out. She just…asked me to stop, said she was sorry, and I left. I felt like an ass pushing her too far.”

“What exactly did you do? I know you haven’t been a monk since Melanie left, but you aren’t randomly hooking up with women that frequently, so I can understand if you were a little…excited…to be with Charlotte⁠—”

Henry, horrified, interrupted, “What? No! I tried to stop anything from progressing beyond kissing, but she…encouraged me to continue. Until she told me to stop. Which I did immediately.”

George read the regret and insecurity on his younger brother’s face. “It sounds to me like you both just wanted to take things slowly, and there’s nothing wrong with that, especially if she’s the right one. But I’m sure when she asked you to stop, she didn’t mean you should stop seeing her.”

“I’m just worried I did the wrong thing and I don’t know how to undo it. It didn’t help that Phil interrogated me about the date.”

Phil, Henry’s longest employee, was a superb mechanic; unfortunately, he could also be extremely sexist. “I’m guessing he said something rude or crude, or both?”

Henry nodded. “First, he inferred I slept with Charlotte. I corrected him, because he doesn’t need to talk about Charlotte in that way, and he told me that a woman her age, especially one recently divorced, isn’t looking for a gentleman and I should’ve been more aggressive. He also advised me not to call her the next day and to wait a week.”

“Why the hell would you listen to Phil? That last serious relationship he had was with his hand.” To George’s relief, Henry laughed. “I’m assuming Juan knows what happened?” Henry nodded. “So, what did he say?”

“That Charlotte was still interested enough in me to ask me out, after waiting for two years for me to do it, and was probably as freaked out as I was. Told me to call her, but anything I practiced saying just felt inadequate.”

Frustrated, George knew no one deserved a bigger break than his younger brother. “I know you’re cautious, and deservedly so after Melanie, but Charlotte is worlds apart from her…or DD, for that matter. From what I know about Charlotte, she doesn’t have the issues your ex-wife had…still has. And she won’t fuck with your head like good old DD. Try reaching out to her.”

“I don’t know, George. Two months have gone by. I didn’t know what to say after our date, and I still don’t. I’m so inept at this.” Henry dragged his hand through his hair. “When I see her around town, and those big brown eyes of hers are filled with questions, questions I don’t know how to answer. But I feel the same magnetic pull to her as I have from day one. But how can I drag her into my mess? Especially now that I’m hearing from Melanie again. And then Burnside had his heart attack.”

“DD hasn’t tried any more tricks, like when she came by with a bottle of wine, right?”

“No, she got the hint that time.”

“Yet, she still asked for your help again. You don’t owe her anything, Henry. She can either figure it out or ask her kids for help.” Sounds of the band playing “Sweet Home Alabama” came through the open window in Henry’s office. “You already sacrificed your happiness for one woman who didn’t appreciate it. Stop doing it now for another one.”

“Knock, knock.” A disgruntled-looking Cait stood in the doorway. “Uncle Henry…Dad.”

George rose to kiss Cait’s forehead. “Hey, baby girl, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you…I suppose you’re in town to see Liam?” George flushed, amazed at how easily his daughter made him feel guilty. One of Cait’s biggest complaints was that George and Nora favored Liam over her, which wasn’t true. She just didn’t seem to need them as much as her brother did. Cait had been self-sufficient from the time she was about four.

“No, I came to see my brother.” George hoped she wouldn’t ask where her mom was.

“Cait,” Henry rose to greet her with a hug. “I assume you’re here to pick up your key? Carla told me the small bungalow you’re looking at, right off the park? The location couldn’t be more perfect for you, halfway between your office downtown and Kinsale Motors.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Cait blew up at her bangs, and they danced on her forehead. “Um, Henry, I was wondering if you were planning on going to the street dance tonight?” George shot his daughter a surprised look. Was Cait planning on going to the dance, after showing no interest in a social life in the two years she’d been back home?

“Nah, I’m heading home after this. I’m exhausted,” Henry handed Cait the key. “Carla says you can drop this off with me again, but if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you’d take it back to her yourself.”

Cait laughed, and it brightened the harsh expression she too often wore. “No problem. I don’t know why she insisted on leaving it with you in the first place.”

“Who’s Carla?”

“My realtor, and she’s great, if a little too interested in my uncle’s personal life.” Cait’s phone beeped, and after she replied, she threw it back into her purse. “Anyway, I was thinking about going to the dance tonight, but haven’t really met that many people in town. Would you perhaps want to meet me there? Help ease me into society?”

Henry chuckled, “Beverley isn’t exactly Bridgerton, Cait⁠—”

George raised his eyebrows at his brother. “And how do you know about Bridgerton?” Nora, obsessed with the show, had made George sit through at least ten viewings. Of every season.

Henry blushed. “I know things.” To Cait, he said, “I’m not sure what good I’ll be at the dance, though.”

“Please, Uncle Henry. You know practically everyone within a fifty-mile radius. Plus, Josh and Effie will be there. We can show them how to two-step, like we used to do when I was younger.” Cait and Henry had always had a special bond, and George watched it play out in front of him now.

“Well, if you’re sure?” After Cait nodded decisively, Henry shrugged. “What time were you thinking? I need to go home and clean up first.”

“Wonderful! I have some errands to run, so I’ll meet up with you in a couple of hours? Say…in front of Flower Power? Eight o’clock?”

Henry agreed, and the three of them walked to the front of the shop. “Thanks for the talk,” Henry told George as he gave him a quick hug.

“Always. Love you. And have fun tonight.” George wrapped an arm around his daughter as they walked away. “So what was that?”

Cait’s eyes widened as she gave George her best innocent expression. “What? Just taking my uncle out for a night on the town.”

“Uh huh. And meeting at the flower shop was a random choice?”

“Makes as much sense as anywhere else, right?” George supposed so, and the two of them strolled down Main Street, parting ways at the library. After waving to Effie, who was waiting for his daughter on the steps. George had the idea that whatever the young women were up to involving Henry, he didn’t know whether to be excited for him or scared.

“Have you recovered from our trip yet?” Amy asked over FaceTime, accompanying Charlotte as she ambled to the library. The two friends had just returned from a ten-day trip to Vermont, a state that had always fascinated her since the movie Baby Boom, a few days ago. After weeks of tormenting herself about her date with Henry, the getaway had come at a much-needed time.

“Almost. Or, at least, I was…until I saw Henry yesterday at the grocery store. He didn’t see me.”

“How long has it been?”

“Fifty-five days,” Charlotte responded. After checking her watch, she confirmed, “Fifty-five days, five hours and…twenty-two minutes.” Since her date with Henry. A date where she had connected with him, learned about him, and become more attracted to him. A date that had been the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced. A date when she’d been more aroused than any other time in her life. But a date that she then ended by propositioning him. And a date that she ruined by rejecting him. Really, it shouldn’t surprise her that she hadn’t heard from him, because how had she expected him to react? Even as the logical part of her brain explained it, the emotional part was disappointed when another day passed without a word from him. A million times she’d considered reaching out to him, to apologize, but nothing came close to conveying her regret at her behavior that night.

“But who’s counting, right?” Amy asked, staring pointedly into her phone. “You know, one of you has to take a step if you want to get beyond this, Lottie. What happened isn’t the end of the world, but the fact that you didn’t move past it could be.”

“I doubt Henry wants anything to do with me.” Charlotte waved to Ellen Lefferts, Ruth’s mom, who was walking out of her apartment building. When Ruth found out that her parents only lived a couple of blocks from Charlotte, she introduced them. The Lefferts, both retired, were about a decade older than Charlotte, and she frequently ran into them on her walks through town.

Amy continued, “Not from my perspective. When I came for opening night of the musical last month, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you at the end when you came out with the cast. The tension was palpable, my friend.”

Charlotte exhaled, crossing the street from the diner to the hospital, where she waved to Josh, who was coming from the parking lot. “So why hasn’t he called? Oh, because he probably thinks I’m flaky. Sounds like his ex-wife, from what I’ve heard,” Charlotte said sullenly.

“That’s such BS. I’m sure he has the same concerns as you. Your date sounded H-O-T. I mean, he kissed you with snow falling all around you, standing outside his car before dinner. It’s so romantic that it sounds like something out of a movie. I would’ve dragged him into the car and straddled his fine ass then and there. And then when you fed each other? Good lord, even now it has my blood boiling. Like, ‘is it hot in here, or is it me?’ kind of thing.” Amy’s voice dropped an octave. “And then in the bedroom after the date? Damn, girl, ripping his shirt open? I’m getting turned on just imagining it, and I’ve had sex recently. How long has it been for you?”

“I don’t know…”

“So years then,” Amy finished. “I can’t imagine what you were going through. All the emotions, the out-of-this-world level of attraction. Keep in mind that you don’t owe him an apology. A man is not guaranteed a happy ending at the end of every date, so you have nothing to feel guilty about. I’m sure that Henry will understand that you got nervous. I could almost guarantee he was, too.”

“It’s just…how can I compete with someone like DD? The woman is stunning, Ames. So is his ex-wife, by the way.”

“And how would you know?”

“I may have looked up their wedding photo in the newspaper archives at the library,” she confessed sheepishly. The last time she was at the library, after asking for a copy of The Thorn Birds, she’d been unable to stop herself from searching through historical copies of the newspaper from Henry’s hometown, the Clover Lake Gazette. A woman named Audrey Johnson had referred to Henry and his new bride as “the golden couple” underneath a photo of them on the steps of the courthouse. Melanie, at eighteen, had been a blonde bombshell, undeniably ravishing. And Henry, hopeful in a way that stole her breath, in a suit too large on him, had gazed adoringly at his new wife.

“Oh, Lottie,” Amy sighed.

“No, stop, don’t be all ‘Oh, you’re beautiful in your own way’,” Charlotte said. “I know my strengths, and measuring up to either woman is impossible.”

“Okay, it doesn’t really matter what his ex looked like then, or what she could look like now, even, since her personality sounds atrocious. And as far as DD goes? You’re the one Henry was devouring with his eyes last month. You two need to uncross your lines of communication. Do you want another chance?”

Charlotte drew a deep breath. “You know I do. I have no interest in playing the field, or whatever kids say these days. Henry is the only man who has caught my interest.”

“Well, then I think you have your answer. Reach out to him, Lottie. And yes, it has to be you. You are the one who told him to leave, and I’m sure once you explain everything, he’ll fall into your arms. Just try not to rip his clothes off immediately.”

Charlotte blushed, laughing. “You’re right. I will, as soon as I get home from the library.”

“Let me guess: you’re checking out The Thorn Birds?” Amy chuckled. Effie had called her this morning, informing her that her copy of The Torn Birds was in, which she had requested before going away. Despite the town buzzing about the street dance tonight, Charlotte’s plans for the evening were to sit outside in her deck chair, read her book, and maybe get takeout from Betsy’s Diner. The music from the street dance could serenade her from a mile away.

Passing Bits and Bobs Hardware store, she waved to Bob, who was sweeping the sidewalk. “Nice day for a walk, eh, Charlotte?”

“Absolutely. Say hi to Beth for me, okay?” His wife, Beth, the “Bits” of Bits and Bobs, was an active sponsor of the drama department at the high school. To Amy, she said, “How’d you guess about my book?”

“Well, you’ve only read it, what, twenty times? Do you remember that I had to stay over at your house every night to watch the miniseries?”

“Of course. We were eleven, and-”

“And my mom wouldn’t let me watch it at home. She thought it was blasphemous. I still have a thing for Richard Chamberlain in a priest collar.”

“For better or worse, my parents didn’t censor anything for me. We had Mom on one side of us, a bowl of popcorn between us, and Dad in his recliner,” Charlotte laughed.

“Don’t forget all the Squirt we could drink!” Amy added, chuckling. “I still don’t get why you don’t just buy the book?”

“Nostalgia, I suppose. Takes me back to us going to the library to read it, hunched over in a cubicle.”

“Because we were too embarrassed to borrow it!”

“But then my mom checked it out and let me read it when she was done!” Charlotte paused, tears forming in her eyes. “God, I still miss her, Amy, so much. My dad, too, even after thirty years.”

“I know…me, too. I love you, Lottie. I see you’re at the library, so I’ll let you go. Let me know if anything happens. Say hi to Effie for me.”

“Love you, too, and I will.” Charlotte ended the video call as she climbed the stairs to the library.

“Charlotte!” Effie exclaimed from her perch at the front desk. “How are you? How was your trip?” The younger woman came around to the front to hug her.

“Wonderful! We toured Revolutionary War sites, we hiked, we swam in Lake Champlain, and we ate every chance we got. How are the wedding plans going?”

“Good, good, we were just talking about the wedding, actually.” Charlotte looked over Effie’s shoulder, where Cait stood grinning.

“Hi, Cait, how are you? It’s so nice that you’re officiating the wedding; having that personal touch will make it so special.”

“It’s the least I could do for my cousin, after all he and Uncle Henry have been through.” Was she mistaken, or did Cait flash a look at Effie? “Where’d you go on your trip?”

“Vermont. I’d never been, but my friend Amy went once, years ago, with a former boyfriend.”

Cait said, “Oh, I love New England. So romantic, too. You know, a really great place to travel is Lake Tahoe. Have you ever been?” Charlotte shook her head. “You should go sometime. Our family has a cabin there, and every couple of years we all go: aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. Uncle Henry, in particular, loves Lake Tahoe.” This time, there was no mistaking the raised eyebrow that Cait tossed Effie. “Doesn’t he, Effie?”

Effie answered, “Well, we all do. I mean, I’ve only been there once, but it was beautiful. The lake, the trees, and talk about good food.”

Picturing Henry there, with his silvery blond hair shining under the rays of the sun, probably wearing one of those button-down short-sleeved shirts, but the buttons were all open, exposing his chest, like something out of a Robert Redford movie, Charlotte shivered, fanning herself as discreetly as she could with her hand. Was she the only one feeling the heat so intensely? Charlotte turned to Effie for a diversion. “You said that my book is in?”

“Yep. I have it here for you, all ready to go.” Effie held up the book for her. “Hey, do you have any plans tonight?”

“Me? Just with Father Ralph,” she answered, sliding her book into her bag.

“Oh, I was thinking maybe it would be fun to go to the street dance tonight. Have you ever been?”

“Not in Beverley; I missed it last year. I went to a few in high school, with Amy, who says ‘hi’, by the way.” Brady had attended the dances with them, and after they dropped Amy at home, he would sneak into Charlotte’s bedroom. Charlotte had free rein and parents who doted on her, allowing her complete freedom.

“Oh, you should definitely come out tonight, Charlotte, even for a little bit,” Effie insisted.

“I don’t know. I was planning on reading, getting some takeout, maybe having some wine on my front porch. I’m sure I’ll hear the music at my house.”

Cait broke in, “But the band tonight is great. They play a lot of seventies stuff, like Fleetwood Mac, the Eagles, you know, maybe some Neil Young?”

“Plus country, too, from the eighties, which you love, right?” Effie asked. Charlotte had to admit that the band had been very good when she heard them practicing. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to come out for a little while?

“I guess Paul did text me earlier saying that he and Adam would be there.” Charlotte told Effie and Cait.

“Well, I know they’d be thrilled if you showed up. And Adam is an excellent dancer. He’s always trying to get Paul out there, but he has two left feet,” Effie said.

“Okay, you talked me into it. What time are you going?” Charlotte inquired.

Effie looked at Cait. “Oh, um, Josh is off at eight, so we’ll be there around nine?”

“But I’ll be there before that. First, I need to go and look at a house. Want to meet up in front of Flower Power, say eight o’clock?” Cait asked. Charlotte loved the flower shop on Main Street, with its bright window displays of fresh, seasonal flowers. The last time she’d passed by, blue and purple hydrangeas had been in buckets under the windows.

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll meet you later?” Both women nodded, and Charlotte left the library, looking forward to the evening ahead.

Once she was back at home, Charlotte hung her purse up by the door and quickly made a fried egg sandwich on sourdough for her supper, in too much of a hurry to place an order for the takeout she had previously planned. Cooking elaborate meals was a passion for her, even if she was the only one eating, but sometimes the most satisfying thing she made was this sandwich, which involved copious amounts of butter both in the pan to fry the eggs and on the fresh bread.

After eating, she needed to find something to wear and carried her iced tea into her bedroom. The weather had been hot and humid all day, so she went directly for her sleeveless dresses. Flicking through her closet, she came upon the wraparound dress she had worn on her date with Henry, and of course it made her think of him. Was there any chance he would be there tonight? Probably not—street dances didn’t seem like his thing. Recalling the way his eyes had subtly drifted over her body on their date made her dizzy with wanting. Her desire for him, then and now, was overwhelming, and probably why, despite wanting him so much, she had ended their date so abruptly.

Deciding that her white sundress with blue and purple polka dots would be breezy and fun for the evening, Charlotte pulled it on. With fluttery cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, it would pair perfectly with a necklace and bracelet combo she had gotten last year in England: small, round pieces of Whitby jet, set in platinum. After slipping her feet into a pair of heeled sandals, Charlotte tugged on her cross-body purse, locking her front door behind her. Twisting a pair of jeweled hair sticks into her loose curls, she anchored them at the top of her head. With the humidity weighing down the air, she didn’t need her hair sticking to her neck.

Fireflies accompanied her as she walked twenty minutes to downtown. By the time she got to Main Street, where the band was just beginning to play, her forehead was damp with sweat. After paying the entrance fee, she strolled down Main Street, stopping to buy a wine spritzer. At Flower Power, she pressed the icy bottle to her neck as she stood next to an overflowing tub of pink and purple petunias, startling when a deep voice to her left said, “Charlotte?”

While the band played “Honky Tonk Women”, Henry tapped along, waving to friends, neighbors, and random customers on the street. Before leaving his house, he texted Cait, but she had “one more thing to take care of”. Since he knew the prospective house she was looking at, he couldn’t imagine what was taking her so long. Beautifully built, with wooden fixtures on the interior, it was just the right size for his niece. He’d been in it a few times and had used the house’s crown moulding as inspiration for his own house when he had remodeled several years ago. He pushed all thoughts of his niece aside, however, when Charlotte came into view. His mind blank, he exhaled. “Charlotte.” With her shining dark hair pulled up, the moonlight danced on her bare shoulders, and Henry’s fingers itched to test her softness. His eyes tracked down to the curves he had stroked their last time together. Streetlights twinkled across her neck and upper chest, and he longed to press his lips in the space between her shoulder blades, where he imagined her pulse fluttered rapidly. Whoever had made her dress needed a monument built to them, because it showcased this woman as a work of art…a supple goddess, too good to be real.

Charlotte’s temperature soared as Henry approached, more handsome than a man had a right to be, wearing another shirt with snaps down the front. What was with this man and his snaps? Didn’t he get how unbelievably sexy he was? He’d been sent to test her, she was sure, evidenced by the naughty, devilish dreams that had her pressing a pillow between her thighs in the middle of the night after waking up fevered. Forcing herself into coherence, she asked, “Henry, how are you?” Wow, Charlotte, you haven’t spoken to him in two months, she scolded, but this is the best you come up with? With her icy drink pressed to the other side of her neck, she quivered when he spoke.

“I’ve been good, I guess.” He added, “Better now that you’re here.” Her dark eyes widened at his words. Aiming for lightness as well as sincerity, he worried now that his words sounded trite. Trying not to concentrate on the damp trail left by the bottle she held to her throat, he focused instead on keeping his hands in the pockets of his jeans to prevent himself from reaching for her.

Charlotte laughed uneasily, taking a healthy gulp of her wine spritzer. “I’ve been…afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me again.” Her nerves were raw with the need for his understanding. “I’m so sorry about what I did, the night of our date. I ruined everything.”

“What?” Henry’s voice was rough when he said, “Charlotte, no, I’m the one…I should’ve reached out, I should’ve said something sooner, but it’s me. I’m sorry for what happened at your house.” When they had tasted each other, had each other’s skin under their fingertips. When their breaths had been one. All he’d done in the months since was think of that night, hating the idea that she could regret it while he relished it.

His sparkling blue eyes made her pulse skip. “No, Henry, I’m the one who needs to apologize. Everything was perfect…you were perfect. It’s just…” How much could she admit to him before she turned him off? Because that was the last thing she wanted.

“I crossed a line with you…pushed you before you were ready.” His voice low, he stared down into her upturned face. Without either realizing, they had drawn together, and Henry braced his arm over her head, leaning on the front door of the flower shop. The small alcove lent a heightened sense of intimacy, and his body began reacting to it.

“No, I—you did nothing wrong. It was me. Not like, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’,” she babbled. Having Henry this close to her was playing tricks on her mind, making her dizzy with need for him. What would he do if she reached for his chest? Slipped a finger between the snaps?

Henry took a deep breath. “I didn’t know what to do, after the date, or when to do it. I didn’t know if I should call you, but then too much time passed.” His hands moved to push his ball cap back before remembering that he hadn’t worn one. “I was afraid you might not want to hear from me.” His height over her provided an unfair advantage, but he wouldn’t allow himself to look into the deep valley of her dress. He’d made that mistake already. “And then…”

“I heard about Burnside Van Holland’s open-heart surgery.” Aiming for casual and not catty, she inquired, “How’s Diadema?” What he did with his free time was his choice, but if she was going to be vulnerable with Henry, she needed to know where things stood with him and DD. For once, she wanted to be first on his list of priorities. His aftershave, earthy and erotic, surrounded her, and she wanted him madly, but she wouldn’t spend tonight yearning for a man distracted by another woman.

“She’s managing. Working things out.” He needed her to understand. “I called her this afternoon and explained that I couldn’t help her anymore. I’m putting up boundaries from now on.” Tentatively, his hand reached for hers, admitting, “I wanted to reach out to you so many times, but I didn’t know where to start, and I regret that.”

Leaning closer, Charlotte nodded her beautiful head. “I’m sorry, too. I’m the one who essentially kicked you out, which isn’t what I wanted or intended.” She peered up at him from under the fringe of her eyelashes. “I should have told you that.” All this time wasted. She shook her head. “No one tells you how hard it is to date in your fifties.”

Henry chuckled, “They don’t, do they?” With her hand still held by his, his thumb brushed her palm. “I should have taken a chance, especially since you were the one brave enough to initiate our first date.” Bringing her hand to his mouth, he gently kissed it. “You are so beautiful, Charlotte.” Breathless as his eyes held hers, the band played “Feels So Right”, and he was desperate to have her in his arms again. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

“I’d love to.” Henry brought her into the circle of his arms, and Charlotte did her best to stifle a shudder, but it wasn’t easy. Not with his heartbeat visible in his neck. Or the tension in the shoulder her hand smoothed. Or the body heat emanating from his chest.

Searching for an innocent topic, anything to distract from her soft breasts pushing into his ribs, he asked, “How’s your daughter doing?” Dancing with her may have been a bad idea: too intimate, and he was on the verge of making an idiot of himself. He should’ve led them to a picnic table on the side and waited for Cait to arrive, whom he’d forgotten about completely. “I saw her with you at opening night of Bye, Bye, Birdie.”

“She’s great. She applied to the traveling nurse program.”

“Really? How do you feel about that? When Josh went to New York City for college, I never imagined he’d stay there for sixteen years. But college became med school, then his surgical internship. I missed him every day.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his son and Effie and flashed a smile at them. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I made my question all about me.”

“It’s okay. I like hearing you talk about Josh,” Charlotte smiled up at him, captivated by his love for his son. “Since I’ve lived here, I’ve become used to being separated from her. At first I thought would be difficult being apart from her, and from Amy, but luckily I’ve made some pretty wonderful friends,” she told him. “Anyway, I’ve been encouraging her to do it for years. I suppose she gets her wanderlust from me.”

“Really? Did you do a lot of traveling growing up? Or when you were married?” Henry whirled them into the center of the dancers.

“Some, with my parents. I was fortunate: they had the means and the motivation to expose me to different places, here in the States and in Europe. Money was tight with Brady and me, though. And then, when it wasn’t, the timing never worked. I would have loved the opportunity to spread my wings and see the world when I was Isobel’s age.”

“I heard you did some traveling recently,” he commented. At her surprised look, he explained, “My sister told me, after I’d asked if she’d seen you.” His hand rubbed circles on the small of her back. “I missed you.” He ached to kiss her and lowered his head to hers. Then the band broke into “Good-Hearted Woman” and, jostled by other dancers, Henry twirled her into a two-step rather than let her out of his arms.

Two songs later, breathless and thirsty, Charlotte put a hand to her chest. “Where did you learn to dance? You’re so good.” He had dipped her, spun her, and swayed with her, all while keeping in rhythm with the music. He seemed oblivious to the admiring glances from women in the crowd, but she noticed the looks of envy and knew they would gladly step in and replace her; for the moment, Henry was hers.

“My parents taught us all to dance. Watching them at so many dances like this.” He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as discreetly as possible. “Would you like to get a drink?” At the nod of her lovely head, they walked over to the bar. “They only have beer and those wine cooler things you were drinking before. And pop, of course.”

Charlotte laughed. “I think I’ll take a beer. That seems more appropriate for a street dance, anyway. Whatever you’re having is good with me.” As Henry grabbed two bottles of beer so icy they steamed in the warm air, Charlotte’s stomach growled, and she cast an embarrassed glance at Henry, who chuckled in response.

“I was just on the verge of suggesting food. I didn’t eat much for dinner, but full disclosure: I can always eat.” In his rush to meet his niece, he had eaten a hastily made sandwich and was starving.

“A man with an appetite. I can appreciate that,” Charlotte said. “I have one, too.”

Yes, he had an appetite, but not for food. His appetite was purely for Charlotte. He tucked a stray curl of glossy brown hair behind her ear, trailing a finger down her cheek. An announcement from the band broke the spell. “Would you like to grab a burger over there?” Henry pointed to the booth down the block.

“I’d love that. I had a sandwich earlier, but I’ll need to keep my energy up for tonight.” What had she just said? Lightheaded from Henry, she corrected herself with a giggle, “I mean dancing…with the way you dance, I’ll need my energy.”

With a smile, Henry offered her his arm, and she linked hers through, carrying her beer in her other hand as he said, “I’m glad I came tonight. I almost didn’t.”

“Me neither. But I’m glad we’re both here. What changed your mind?”

He took a sip of his beer. “My niece came into the shop this afternoon and asked me to go.” They arrived at the burger tent, where both of them ordered cheeseburgers and fries.

Charlotte held Henry’s drink while he paid and put her lips to his beer, savoring what she imagined was the taste of him on her tongue, his male essence; the most fascinating thing about Henry was that it never seemed like he was trying to prove his masculinity.

“So, are you saying that you were supposed to meet Cait tonight?” They sat across from each other at a picnic table, and as he tipped his head back to drink from his beer, Charlotte was enthralled by his neck muscles. Who knew swallowing could be so incredibly sexy?

Henry swallowed before answering, urgently needing the chill to calm his nerves. Dancing with Charlotte, her soft and supple form in his arms, curling her hand in his, was more than he had expected from this evening. “Yeah, she told me to meet her in front of the flower shop.” Charlotte burst out laughing. “What? What’s funny?”

“I think we’ve been set up,” she whispered across the table to Henry before sampling her burger.

“What? By whom?” As if she wasn’t turned on already, Henry used “whom” properly instead of “who”. Someone come and save her, she thought, lost to this man who knew his grammar.

“Well, I was in the library picking up a book from Effie, and Cait was there, too. The two of them had their heads together, and I had the feeling they were plotting something. Obviously, they were arranging for us to meet at Flower Power.”

Henry finished his fries and took out his phone. There was a message from his niece telling him to have a good time. He smiled. “It seems you’re right,” he told Charlotte, while another shiny curl found its way out of the hair she had pinned up. What if he tugged on the sticks holding her glorious hair up? Would it flow around her bare shoulders or cling to the back of her neck, sticky from the heat?

Heaven help her, she silently begged, mesmerized by the finger tracing his lower lip. As she licked her own lips, his finger stilled and eyes grew large—brilliant, cerulean eyes that reflected not just his innate goodness but also potent sex appeal.

“Under these lights, you are radiant, Charlotte.” Blush colored her cheeks, and she cast her eyes down. “Absolutely breathtaking.” Her scent clung to his clothes, his skin, and he longed to take her in his arms again for another dance, so he could concentrate on nothing but her. Even with a thousand people milling around tonight, he’d never experienced intimacy like this.

Heart racing, she snapped her eyes back to Henry’s. No one had ever made her feel such erotic power. Pressing her beer to her forehead helped to cool the heat he stoked in her, and she said impulsively, “I like watching you eat. Makes me feel less conscious about inhaling my burger.” Her ex-husband was notorious for picking things off his plate or finding an issue with something.

“I love food, runs in the family, I guess. I appreciate a woman with an appetite.” His thumb rubbed her bottom lip. “You had a little crumb,” he told her.

“I should make dinner for you one night.” The idea of Henry in her home, while she cooked, made her dizzy with anticipation.

“I would love that,” Henry told her. “Or I could cook for you sometime. Impress you with my culinary excellence. I don’t get to do that very often, with Josh living with Effie. When he first came back, I enjoyed making meals for the two of us.”

“You must have been thrilled when he decided to stay. Effie has commented how close you are.”

Henry nodded. “We are. We never went through any rebellion or anything, like you do with teenagers.”

“Oh, yes, Isobel pushed our boundaries to no end, but we were strict with her. Brady and I were determined not to be as lenient as our parents…well, mine, really.”

“I’m sure that Josh’s mother leaving gave him some perspective.” He peeled the label off his bottle.

“Perspective he shouldn’t have had, though, right?” Her tone gentle, she reached across for Henry’s hand, which he lifted to his mouth for a soft kiss. He grabbed her empty bottle then and took their trash from the table. When he came back, he wore a smile, the lines on his face creasing attractively. “This is such a great song.”

With the band playing “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground”, Charlotte stood and held out her hand. “Let’s dance, Henry.” She heard the hitch in his breath at her request, and the wonder on his face made her want him beyond anything she thought she could experience.

Brown eyes huge in her beautiful face, he cupped her cheeks. “I’d love to,” and folded her hand in his. Leading her to a corner off to the side, one of his arms encircled her back, pulling her tight, with no air left to circulate between their bodies. He brought her other hand up to his mouth, kissing her fingertips as they swayed, their bodies locked together, her chest against his belly. His hand drifted from her back to her hip, relishing the ample flare of her curves.

Through the thin cotton of his shirt, Charlotte caressed his bicep before skimming her fingers up to the nape of his neck, where his silver-blond hair glinted. Desiring to be closer, she nuzzled against him and rested her head on his chest, next to his heart. Henry’s groan rumbled against her forehead. She’d never considered the power she could wield over a man. Until tonight. With every breath in her lungs and every fantasy in her head, she wanted him. His gentleness called to her, challenging her to unleash the fevered man underneath. Gently pulling her other hand from his, she brushed it up his arm until she found his shoulder, bunched with muscles. “Henry,” she murmured.

No longer able to keep his lips from tasting hers, he bent his head, lightly brushing his lips across hers: once, twice, and a third time, before she deepened their kiss. “Henry,” she moaned this time. With the crowd milling around them, he steered them to the other side of the street, to where they had begun their night: Flower Power. Dazed, they slipped between a gap in the barriers and rounded the side of the building, where Henry considered stopping, wanting nothing more than to have Charlotte up against the building, feasting on her lips, relishing her softness under his hands, but he kept going, taking them to the back of the building, where the darkness assured them privacy.

With the building against her back, Charlotte couldn’t have said where on the street they were, but it didn’t matter, because Henry’s mouth sucked a line from her ear down her neck, where he took the smallest bite of salty flesh. One of his hands stroked her from her back to her hip, then up her waist, her ribs, until halting at the bounty of the pillowy breasts he’d yearned for all night. Carefully, his fingers brushed under them as his mouth did the same above her neckline.

Panting heavily, Henry lifted his head and looked over to his shop. Before a second thought intruded, before his conscience told him otherwise, and before he could change his mind, he grabbed her hand, and they crossed, leaving the clamor behind as he unlocked the door and drew her in behind him.

Cold blasted from the air-conditioner as Henry locked the door behind them, quieting the strains of the Coldwater Creek Band serenading them from Main Street. Butterflies awakened in Charlotte’s stomach when he turned to her, his face bathed by the moonlight filtering in from the windows. Drawing a deep breath, Charlotte gazed around her in awe. “Where are we?”

From Flower Power, with her hand clasped tightly in his, Henry had led them to the auto shop, but they didn’t go in; instead, they followed the stone path surrounding it to the back. Passing by the lilac bushes he’d planted the year after purchasing the shop, he paused just briefly before they crossed the yard. Rarely had anyone but him been inside, and his hand shook unlocking the door to the sanctuary he sought away from the shop. After turning the lights on low, he explained, “My coffee shed, or, as the guys in the shop call it, my java hut. I roast the beans over there.” He pointed to the south corner. He held his breath, watching her expression, needing her to understand the significance of this place, where he drew a line between his life as a mechanic and his passion for coffee, spending time in the shed either before or after shop hours. On the off chance someone dropped by, he welcomed them, but they respected the quiet solace he sought when he was roasting his beans.

Astonished, Charlotte gave a slight laugh. “I think you’re downplaying the word ‘shed’, Henry. This is the size of the garage at my house.” Tucked into the back of the property, she had wondered where he was taking them when they left the dance, left Main Street with their blood thickened with need for each other. Now here they were, alone, no one else around for the entire city block, since the shop building was the only business on the block. Surrounded by trees at the property line, she’d never noticed this structure from the street. The interior resembled a wood cabin, with cast-iron pans hanging along the walls, suspended from hooks in the ceiling. “What are those?”

“Antique coffee roasters that people, mostly my siblings, have picked up at flea markets or auctions.” Keeping his eyes on her, he tried to gauge her reaction. Did she think he was obsessed, as so many had when he had begun shutting himself away to roast coffee beans? Everyone had already thought that he’d spent too much time alone after Josh went to New York and that he didn’t need an activity that isolated him even more. “I only use those for small batches when I’m experimenting with flavors. The one I mainly use is over there.”

In the faint light, a copper roaster gleamed to her left. As with everything she was coming to understand about Henry, his coffee shed was meticulous, and she spied a loveseat along the far wall under a large window which framed trees swaying in the light breeze. Canisters of coffee beans lined a counter to her right, and above that hung a rack with small jars. At the end of the counter stood a farmhouse sink situated below another large window lending a view of the yard and shop. From this vantage point, she discerned that the shop actually comprised two separate buildings that had been joined at some point. The actual auto garage was one building, and Henry’s office was the other, with, to her amazement, another floor above it, set back from the front. “I didn’t realize you had a floor above your office, Henry.”

“Oh, yeah, few people do. I’ve thought about renting it out, but it’s not that big. I just use it as storage for some paperwork from the shop and other stuff that got put up there after Josh and I moved here.” Henry hadn’t been up on the second floor in years. When Cait was looking for an office in town, he had considered cleaning the space out so she could use it, but hadn’t been ready to face some items he might find, particularly any that maybe still belonged to his ex-wife. Ugh, he thought. Melanie. She’d texted him again, before he’d gone to the dance, this time claiming whatever she had to tell him was “urgent”. Just as his thumbs had hovered over the keyboard on his phone, an incoming call showed Melanie’s number flashing on the screen. At that point, he silenced his phone and headed to the dance. Pushing his ex out of his mind, he offered, “Would you like something to drink? Water? Or I might have some pop,” he offered, pointing to a small fridge under the counter next to the sink. Why was he offering beverages when all he wanted was to swoop her back into his arms? Frustrated with himself, he rolled up his shirt sleeves, hoping to cool down.

Tongue-tied, with nerves preventing her from answering, she willed him to take her in his arms again. Part of her hotly anticipated his body against hers, but part of her was terrified that he would touch her in the ways she craved. How would she compare to the other women he’d been with, positive that even if he hadn’t “dated”, that didn’t mean he’d lived a life of celibacy? He was a man with whom women could connect and trust. She couldn’t have been the only one lit aflame under the stare of a fierce desire he had to have released over the years. Was that what this could be, just a release for both of them? Or could it be something more? Was either of them ready for that? Was she? Did she need whatever was between them to have a label? Would they be lovers? Friends? Could Henry, with his quiet intensity and tender heart, be a friends-with-benefits kind of man? Could she be that kind of woman? Shivering under the weight of her thoughts, she folded her arms in front of her.

His own throat dried as her creamy skin caught the rays of the moon cascading in from the windows. “Are you cold? I can turn the air conditioner down.” Because the beans needed to keep cool, he kept the temperature in the shed between sixty-five and seventy during the warmer months. One of her hair sticks shifted, causing her knot of shining brown locks to tilt slightly, and his body responded immediately.

“No, sorry, it feels nice in here. It’s so hot out.” Charlotte hesitated. “Maybe…what about…your coffee?” As he widened his eyes in surprise, her heart skipped a beat. “To drink, I mean.” Or two.

“You want me to brew some coffee?” Breathing in deeply, the rich aroma of coffee beans permeating the air calmed his fidgeting nerves, as he hoped.

“Why not? It seems appropriate here in your java hut. I can experience your magic firsthand.” Unintentionally, her voice deepened, and Henry’s ocean eyes promised to swallow her whole. And heaven help her, she was ready. “I’ve never known anyone who roasts their own beans. I’ve been so intrigued by that since you told me. Remember?”

He did, perfectly; it was the second time she had been in his shop. She’d been wearing a pair of jeans and one of those cardigans, a rich, forest green color that complemented her earthy eyes. “You thought it smelled better in my office than it did at Mr. Beans.” Her smile made his knees weak, while her dimples could convince him to do anything for her. Filling a pot with water, he poured it into the coffee machine next to the sink.

“So tell me about this place. Is it one of those pre-built sheds I see at the hardware store?”

“I built it,” he told her, with more pride than the declaration probably deserved.

“Excuse me…what?” Her eyes glinted behind her glasses.

“After Josh went off to college, I was looking for a way to fill my spare time. I’d always loved coffee, but if it’s too roasted, I get heartburn.” He shook his head. “I know—ridiculous, right?”

“Not at all. I feel the same. It’s why I love Mr. Beans so much.”

“So at the state fair that year, there was a coffee booth from Belle Fourche roasting their own beans, and the coffee was smooth, milder than I’d ever had. No side effects for me at all. Went back the next day and asked them about it. She told me that by roasting your own beans, you control the quality. A passion was born.” He reached down into a small fridge under the counter for a carton of half and half, setting it next to the coffeemaker. “Can I let you in on a secret?” Henry leaned his hip against the table in the center of the room, where he sorted through shipments or took inventory of his coffee supplies on his laptop. “I supply the flavored coffee for Mr. Beans.”

“No way! You mean now I can come straight to the source if I need anything?”

Blue eyes stared into brown ones, and without a doubt, hoped she would come to him for anything. “You already inspired one of my flavors. I’m brewing it now.” It had been almost two full years since her suggestion. Would she remember? Recognize the flavor?

Sniffing the air, she squealed with delight. “S’mores?” At his nod, she asked, “You made S’mores coffee? For me?” Stunned, Charlotte wasn’t sure how to respond. Of course she hadn’t forgotten suggesting the flavor to him on her second visit to his shop, but she’d never expected him to remember.

Mesmerized by the joy that made her eyes two enormous orbs and curved her plump lips into a smile, his fingers fell on her shoulder, where a coil of dark hair had enticed him since they’d entered the shed. Curling it around his forefinger, he lowered his voice. “For you.” Intent on not rushing anything, Henry reluctantly took a step back to the counter, plucking two cups from a cabinet. Pouring the half and half in first, he then added a spoonful of sugar to each cup, his gaze never wavering from Charlotte as she explored the shed. With faint chords from the band at the street dance filling the silent air, Charlotte went from one small barrel to the next. “If you rub the beans between your fingers, you release the oils.”

“Can I?” she turned to find Henry watching her. He nodded, so she touched the coffee beans on top, marveling at their slick texture and the subtle differences in each batch. Who was this magic man, she mused, building a structure to roast his own coffee? Surely, he must be the most modest man in existence. So diligent, so exacting, with the care he gave to his customers at the auto shop, to the time it must have taken to craft this shed, and the passion he had for creating his coffee blends. Essential oils, herbs, and spices lined the shelf above, labeled “peppermint”, “vanilla”, “cinnamon sticks”, and “orange peel”. Her eyes travelled from left to right, coming to an abrupt stop at Henry, his forearm braced on the shelf, his body leaning over hers.

Entranced by her presence here, in this space only ever occupied by him, he willed himself to take things slowly with her. “Like anything you see?” Her pink tongue darted out, and she licked the lips he had savored earlier. What would she taste like now? Henry pondered, and emboldened by the intimate space, he put his other hand on the shelf, so his arms bracketed her beautiful head. Without touching her, he lowered his head. Slowly, lightly, his lips met hers, brushing across them. Needing more of her mouth, he deepened the kiss cautiously. When Charlotte gave a breathy moan, he kissed her more firmly, but only just, until her hands gripped his shirt lapels.

Opening her mouth fully under his, she eagerly allowed him entry. Confined with Henry in the small space of his coffee shed, where his scent lingered throughout, where his size dominated hers, where his deep voice echoed, her body sang in response, and she had to have him. She felt a tug on her hair sticks, and then her hair fell onto her shoulders, tickling her collarbone. Shivering, she pulled him close. Her body flush with his, she felt him through her dress at the apex of her thighs. Henry’s large hands cupped and squeezed her bottom, lifting her to the table. Now her eyes were level with his, her hands framing his handsome face. Smoothing her palms over cheeks sprinkled with blond fuzz, she plunged her hands into his hair, bringing his face to hers. Lips, tongues, teeth met until Charlotte put a hand on his chest, whispering, “Wait.” Panting, she closed her eyes. “Henry, before…the last time we were together…I need you to know that I’m sorry for not explaining where my head was.” After a deep breath, she opened her eyes. His hands held her hips, restraint shining in the eyes studying her. “It’s just…I’ve never been with anyone but my ex, ever.” Henry smoothed a strand of hair from her glistening forehead. “I’m not…I’m not twenty anymore-”

His laughter rumbled beneath her hands. “Thank god.”

“Or any of the women you might be…used to…I just…I don’t want you to be disappointed. I’ve got stretch marks and cellulite and a belly-” His finger on her lips shushed her.

“Charlotte, you are gorgeous. Fucking phenomenal, excuse my language, and I have been under your spell from the first time I saw you, when I was sitting outside my shop. Even though you were across the street, I could tell there was something about you unlike any woman I’ve ever known. There’ve been some through the years, but nothing meaningful. I’m scared, too. Of how I feel when I’m with you, of how I feel when I’m not. Of my past getting in the way. More than anything, though, I feel something I haven’t for so long, and that’s hope.” With her hair falling all around her, Henry believed in angels, in goddesses, in magic, because she was all of the above. “If you want us to stop, say the word. I won’t do anything—” her finger on his mouth shushed him now.

“I want you, Henry.” Her hands on the back of his steamy neck, she lowered his head to hers, latching her mouth onto his. Methodically, she made her way from one snap to the next on his shirt until it gaped open. “These snaps have lived in my fantasies for months,” she confessed. Fingertips flickered across his chest, through downy hairs, following the trail until it disappeared into his waistband. “I’ve wanted you since that first day, too.” She scraped her fingernails across his stomach as she unbuckled his belt.

After nudging in between her thighs, he scooted her closer to him, while making sure she remained firmly on the table. Under the skirt of her dress, her legs pressed into either side of his hips. Needing a moment to catch his breath, to bask in the unbelievable luck of having this luscious, sensuous woman in his arms tonight, Henry lifted his lips from Charlotte’s very intoxicating mouth, touching his forehead to hers. With her chest rising and falling rapidly, Henry noticed a spot at the base of her throat where a bead of moisture stood and, intrigued, he slicked a thumb over her shoulder before dipping his head to taste her. At the same time, his other hand slowly descended on Charlotte’s knee, just where the hem of her dress stopped, and, compelled to discover if her thighs were as soft as her shoulders, he inched his fingers under her dress. Groaning into her neck as they found silky skin, the discovery made it impossible to keep his hand still, so it drifted higher until it could go no further. “Charlotte.” His breath hot in her ear, he cradled the back of her head with one hand, and he had no choice but to stroke her once, twice, three times until she chanted his name into his ear.

“Henry…Henry…Henry, I’m not…” Charlotte rambled incoherently. Having thrown her head back once his hand caressed her leg, the motion gave Henry increased access to her body, and she welcomed his conquering fingers. She was gone, drifting, her soul escaping, until his lips lowered above her breasts, and the fingers of his other hand unzipped her dress. Charlotte leaned back, curling her fingers into his shoulders—shoulders not bulky from lifting weights, but strong from tightening bolts and moving heavy bags of coffee. “I need you,” she implored, “Henry, please.” Then he was there with her, and what she experienced exceeded everything she thought was possible.

Almost Thirty-Seven Years Ago

As much as Melanie had done her damnedest to fit in for the past three years, she couldn’t find a place for herself with Henry’s family. Could she help it if everyone was jealous of her? That her tastes were more sophisticated than theirs? Take, for instance, dinner tonight, when Henry’s mom served something called coke awe van? What kind of name was that? And why was the chicken…purple?

“Chicken shouldn’t look like that,” she complained to Henry while surrounded by a tableful of Livingstons. What was with this family, always having dinner together? Growing up in Florida, she ate with her mama and sister, like, maybe once a week.

“It’s good, Melanie. Just try it. It’s one of my favorites!” Everything was her husband’s favorite, and that was part of her problem living back in his hometown. Even though his plans had busted apart, he seemed content to be here. Maybe he just hadn’t cared as much about his dreams as she had about hers? If she couldn’t convince him that Clover Lake was too small for them, he’d never leave.

“You know why Mom made this, don’t you?” Over the glow of the tapered candles, Henry’s brother glared at her. Both brothers were tall, but where Henry was slender, George was burly, like their dad, William. George’s perfect wife, Nora, had recently graduated from some piddly college with a degree in business, which sounded completely boring to Melanie, but the family made a huge potluck picnic in the park last month to celebrate. Catherine, Henry’s mom, even asked her to make something for it. Like Melanie had the time or inclination to cook? In her opinion, George and Nora always got treated like royalty, she thought sullenly, like when they got married last year. Huge wedding, with the extended family invited, plus it seemed like everyone in town was there, too. Big whoop. Nobody had bothered to hang up streamers for her and Henry when they got married three years ago. All they’d gotten as a congratulation was a microscopic picture in the town’s newspaper. Henry put his brother on a pedestal far too often, like when George graduated from a mechanics program in Beverley. What a joke that place was. Everyone around here treated it like it was a bustling metropolis, but there were barely even ten thousand people there. Melanie thought it was stupid that George took classes to be a mechanic, yet Henry did it, no problem. Nobody threw him a party. “It’s Henry’s birthday.” George’s voice mocked her, “But I bet you knew that, right?”

Like, no duh. Of course she knew it was his birthday…it had just slipped her mind. Uncomfortable with his family’s eyes on her, she tried to defend herself. “I just…I just thought Henry and I would celebrate by ourselves later.” Judging by their nasty looks, no one believed her. Except for Henry, who squeezed her knee under the table. When the family members individually handed Henry birthday presents, the knot of dread in Melanie’s stomach grew until it was her turn. Everyone looked expectantly at her. How could she have forgotten to get him a present? Why couldn’t she remember what she’d gotten him last year? Oh, right, she’d bought him a bag of fancy coffee because he was always complaining the stuff from the grocery store didn’t sit right with him. “What? Obviously, I…just…like I said, we’re celebratin’ alone later,” she sputtered, unable to control the Panhandle accent she worked so hard to hide. “It’s back at the apartment.” Their apartment, the microscopic space above his parents’ garage. When they had moved in, Henry promised it would only be until the baby came, then they would get their own house. Only, there had been no baby. Only Melanie had been relieved when her period came a week after they were married, unlike Henry, who’d actually seemed disappointed. He reasoned that, without a baby, it made sense to continue living rent-free above the garage so they could save money. Even if he never said it, she knew he had to remember her dream of moving to California. That’s pretty much all she thought about, which was why every week she took a little money out of the bank and squirreled it away.

Stares from Henry’s family caused a wave of shame. Everyone sat there, acting as if not having a gift for him meant she didn’t love him. She did, desperately, which was why she wanted them to get the hell out of this place. He deserved better than coming home every night with oil staining his fingers. His beautiful hands should belong to a doctor, not a grease monkey. He’d make the most perfect physician, with his grace and his polite ways. Even now, blond hair smoothed to the side of his head and blue eyes sparkling with laughter, she couldn’t imagine him crawling underneath some hunk of junk like he did six days a week.

The doorbell rang then, and Nora, of all people, jumped up. Why was she rushing to get it? Her sister-in-law didn’t even live there. No, she and George were lucky to have their own house one town over, where she was sure they got plenty of privacy, away from the prying eyes of the family. On her way out of the dining room, Nora called behind her, “I forgot to mention that DD might stop by tonight.” Surely she didn’t mean the famous DD? Melanie had heard nothing but rave reviews for Nora’s best friend, whose parents were loaded, she had surmised, but not as much as Nora’s family, who owned a bunch of car dealerships. Must be nice for Nora to have those connections, because she got a job there pretty much right after graduating. Fine for her, but you wouldn’t catch Melanie working all day long in some stuffy office. Or anywhere else, really. She’d tried working at the grocery store in town, but the boss, Dirk, was a little too touchy-feely, so she’d quit after two weeks. Just as well, because with all her free time, she spent her days reading entertainment magazines to stay current with Hollywood.

Nora reentered the dining room with two of the most gorgeous people Melanie had ever seen outside of a movie screen. “Hi everyone, sorry if we’re interrupting tonight.” Melanie gulped. This couldn’t be DD. With brown eyes tilting up at the corners and glistening brown hair streaked with gold, she was stunning, and something shriveled inside Melanie as Henry tensed next to her.

No one, aside from Nora, seemed pleased by their surprise guest, and silence hung for a second or two until Catherine rose. “Of course. Nora is family, so you’re welcome here.” Her mother-in-law pulled out two chairs. “Won’t you stay for some cake and ice cream?”

DD gave a small smile. “Thanks, but we can’t stay. Mother is expecting us for a late supper.”

Her father-in-law asked, “In town for the holiday weekend, then, DD?” This family loved a holiday, and the Fourth of July was no exception.

“Yes. We’ve been so busy, with our wedding, and school, and then the baby. We haven’t been back at all. In fact, this is Nathaniel’s first time here,” she announced, drawing the handsome man forward. With deeply tanned skin and shoulder-length black hair, his eyes were the most unique shade of golden brown. In his muscled arms was an adorable infant, a replica of Nathaniel, down to her jet-black hair and golden eyes. “And my parents haven’t even met Euphemie yet.” For a moment, a pang of sympathy rose in her for DD. Yes, Melanie’s relationship with her own mother hadn’t been perfect, but the wariness she read in the other woman’s face worried her. How had DD’s parents not met their grandchild until now? Her generosity ended when DD put her hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, Henry,” the other woman practically sang before following Nora into the living room.

Afterwards, Henry’s deafening silence haunted her on the climb up to their apartment. During their three years together, she had, of course, heard about his infatuation with DD in high school, and how his heart had been broken by her at their senior prom. Yet Henry’s intense affection for Melanie, along with his many declarations of love, led her to believe he was over her. Tired of his silence, she snapped, “You never mentioned how beautiful DD is.” She watched him for a reaction, but he barely blinked. “Did you know she was comin’ tonight?”

“What?” He shook his blond head. “Of course not!”

“You’re sure defensive about it. You barely said anything after she got there. And now you’re actin’ all mopey and sad.” Melanie narrowed her eyes. “Do you still have feelings for her?”

“Of course not,” he sputtered. “I wasn’t thrilled she showed up tonight, either. As far as I knew, Nora hadn’t seen her since their wedding.” Henry meant DD’s wedding, of course, because even though they were best friends, DD had claimed she was too plagued with morning sickness to make it to George and Nora’s wedding last year. Melanie had been relieved to be spared meeting her then. Henry raked a hand through his hair, annoyance coming off in waves. “And what was I supposed to say? The girl I had a crush on in high school is pretty? So what?” Henry pulled her close. “You’re the one I want. The one I married. You’re the one I love.” He kissed her tenderly, but all too briefly, before going down the hall to their bedroom. After she took a shower, she joined him in the bedroom, the one place they never argued. Sliding into bed, she curled up next to him, ready for the makeup sex that always made everything better, but he was asleep.

At the Independence Day Parade the following day, she and Henry sought shade under the awning of the Clover Lake Cafe from the sweltering sun. “Henry, you know what would be nice? A twist cone from the cafe.” No response came. Usually he jumped at the chance to make her happy, but he acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “Henry,” she repeated, but still couldn’t get his attention. She followed his line of sight across the sea of bodies lining Main Street, awaiting the start of the parade, but saw nothing of interest. “Henry!” Melanie spoke sharply, frowning when he finally turned to her. “Can you run in and get me one of them twist cones I love?” She batted her eyes extra hard, hoping he would smile like he usually did when she flirted. Eventually, he did, but it didn’t broaden the cleft in his chin, so she could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Be right back,” he promised, slowly moving through the crowd.

When the parade started, she still had no ice cream, so she walked up the ramp to look into the cafe’s picture window to see what was taking him so long. They couldn’t go anywhere in this town without him getting sidetracked by someone wanting to talk cars, which always annoyed her to no end. She put her hands next to her eyes and peered in the window, but no Henry, so she turned around. From the top of the ramp, her view changed. At the intersection of Main and Wallace, there was her husband, standing next to none other than DD, holding her baby on his hip. As Melanie gaped at them, DD rubbed Henry’s upper arm, infuriating her even more. DD had her own sexy husband, so what was she doing touching hers so intimately? And why was Henry allowing it? Fuming, she stomped down the ramp. So much for being the one Henry wanted; he’d forgotten about her entirely. No wonder he didn’t stay awake for sex last night. He was probably dreaming about another woman.

Battling tears as the first parade float drove by, Henry appeared at her elbow, holding only a vanilla cone and not the twist she’d requested. “Sorry, they were out of chocolate.” Was that all he had to say to her? He should be telling her he was sorry for taking so long…sorry for letting DD paw at him…sorry for holding another woman’s child. She didn’t care one whit, really, about the chocolate.

Taking the cone, she turned her back on him. “Sure took you long enough,” she grumbled. “I was beginnin’ to think you ran away.”

Without meeting her eyes, he said, “I saw some old friends.”

She snorted. “Old friends? You mean your ex-girlfriend?” That got his attention, and his eyes held truths she didn’t want to see.

“What are you talking about? She’s not my ex-girlfriend!”

“Sure didn’t look that way to me, not with the way she was touchin’ you. I’d like to know what her husband thinks! Where was he, anyway?”

“Mellie, please, it wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make you upset. She was waiting for Nathaniel to bring their car around and needed me to hold Euphemie for a minute. They’re going back to Spearfish today. Sounds like her parents were not only nasty to Nathaniel but also to Euphemie.” Maybe if Henry’s eyes had been on her while he was explaining this, she would have been more understanding, but his head was facing the opposite direction, where DD was getting into a busted-up station wagon. The hurt on Henry’s face told her everything she needed to know about the state of his feelings for the other woman.

After that, Henry was a different person, withdrawn in a way he’d never been. She flirted, played dumb, cajoled him, used every trick she knew to bring him to heel, but nothing earned her even the smallest smile. When she asked him outright what was wrong, he remained stubbornly silent, not even complaining when she served TV dinners two nights in a row or frozen pizza the third night. In bed, he didn’t touch her or pull her close, like he usually did, and she swore she heard him say DD’s name in his sleep once, but he denied it the next morning.

She felt poorly the following week, but knew it was because she was sick of this place, of being a nobody, of Henry’s family everywhere, of Henry not paying her the least amount of attention, and told herself that maybe it was time for a change. Time to put herself first for once. Henry clearly didn’t love her enough to leave so they could build a new life together somewhere that allowed them both to make their dreams come true. Convincing herself in the early morning dawn that she had saved enough money to make it on her own, she hauled a suitcase out from under the bed. A wave of nausea hit, and she swallowed hard against it. More nausea fought its way up her throat, and she made it to the bathroom just in time. Three more attempts at packing ended the same way, with her vomiting as if her life depended on it. Muttering into the porcelain, “Lord, please help me,” she thought about the last time she’d been this sick. A worse feeling came then, as she considered the time three years ago at the Grand Canyon. No…she couldn’t be pregnant…not now. Surely she just had a stomach bug?

Melanie slumped on the bathroom floor, tears of rage filling her eyes. She didn’t want to be stuck any longer in this one-horse town, married to a man in love with another woman, in a family where everyone hated her. Gathering up her courage, Melanie rode a bicycle down to the Clover Lake Clinic, past the drugstore, where people stood waiting to get on the bus taking them out of this hellhole. After she peed in a cup, the county health nurse took some blood while Melanie wondered about the people riding that bus—where were they going? What were their plans? If she were on it, she’d never look back, not for anyone. Before long, Melanie got the news she dreaded: pregnant, and in her second trimester. This time there was no Fleetwood Mac playing.

Unable to find the strength to ride the bike home, she was walking beside it when her father-in-law pulled up in an old pickup. William Livingston, the only member of Henry’s family who treated her with any kindness. “Mellie. What are you doing? It’s hot as blazes out here.” Hopping out of the truck, he took the bike from her limp hands. “Go on up; I’ll give you a ride back to the house.” Melanie climbed into the truck as William threw the bike in the back. “On second thought, how about some ice cream?” Instead of heading home, they drove out of town. Listening to The Beach Boys in companionable silence, she laid her head back, almost asleep when William stopped the truck.

“Where are we?”

“We’re at The Dairy Barn; this place makes the best ice cream in South Dakota. Have you never been here?” At the shake of her head, William responded with disbelief, “I can’t believe Henry hasn’t brought you here. Catie and I used to round up the kids when they were little and bring them over here on Sunday nights. The little hellions loved it—well, George and Beatrice were hellions. Henry was always quiet.” He opened his door, then came to her side. “Come on, this is guaranteed to put a smile on your face and a pep in your step.”

After ordering a banana split with strawberry and chocolate ice cream, Melanie sat down at a picnic table outside the barn. On the bench across from her, William sat down. “When Catie and I first got married, we almost moved here, you know.”

“Really? Where are we?” With the exception of a river flowing behind the barn, Melanie was unable to identify anything but farmland around them.

“Oh, just outside Beverley.” William shook his head. “About as far as I go these days, which is not how I envisioned my life. You know I was in the army?” Melanie shook her head. “One reason I joined after high school was to travel, to see the places I had heard or read about, like the pyramids in Egypt, the Great Wall of China, or castles in Europe. Joke was on me, though, because unlike my dad, I never made it out of America.”

A head wearing a paper hat stuck out from the ordering window. “William?” He hopped up and retrieved it. Handing Melanie her ice cream boat, he sipped his chocolate malt. “Mmm, still as good as I remember.”

Melanie took a small bite of her ice cream. “How come? If you really wanted to see those places, why didn’t you ever go?”

Squinting at the sun in his eyes, William drank more malt. “Love. Once I was out of the army, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I came back to Clover Lake. Wasn’t home one day when I ran into Catie. We were both on bicycles, ended up riding together along the river. Didn’t even notice we’d gone ten miles out of town. This was before the paved bike lanes connecting all these spots. We sat by a stretch of the river, talked for hours. I was in love by the time we rode home. With Catie, I didn’t need to travel…she was my world. And then, of course, we had the kids, and they came boom, boom, boom, one after the other, three in three,” William chuckled. “We actually wanted a bigger family, but three was it.”

Melanie shuddered, unsure how she was going to cope with the one she was carrying. Just because she was going to have a kid didn’t mean she still couldn’t go to Hollywood. She could leave after the baby was born, right? It could grow up with Henry, maybe she could visit every few months? She knew how much he wanted to be a father, had brought up the subject more than once, but she kept telling him they weren’t ready. Melanie quickly dismissed that idea. She could never leave her own child. She may be selfish, but she wasn’t cold-blooded. Could she raise the baby on her own? Continue packing her bag back at the house, catch the next bus out of town and head to Hollywood. Did she have what it took to be a single mother? If that was her plan, she had to do it immediately because if Henry found out she was pregnant, he would never let her leave, not with his baby. Her only alternative seemed to be to stay where she was, have the baby, and try to be satisfied with a drab and boring life, but that would be the end of her dreams, once and for all. Was she strong enough to sacrifice herself?

“Each of my kids has followed their own paths, Mellie. I know you and Henry got married fast, but my son loves you something fierce. All that business with him having feelings for DD is ancient history. She never gave him anything but heartache. You are the one who makes him happy.” William looked directly at her for the first time since they had sat down. “I get the feeling you’ve got a lot of things to think about…some decisions to make…but just know that Henry will do whatever he can to make a good life for the two of you.”

“Thank you, William.” Hugging him, she wondered how different her life would have been if her mom had found a man like this: loving and generous. Without a doubt, she knew this was how Henry would be as a father. As she and William departed the Dairy Barn, she made up her mind, eager to see Henry. Maybe Hollywood was still possible for her if she could make him see that she and the baby were his family. For the first time in a long while, Melanie smiled, sure that her life was about to take a turn in the direction she wanted, for once in her life.

Waking up from a deep slumber, Henry’s arm curved around the softest flesh imaginable. Charlotte, he groaned, his face nuzzling her neck while his hand drifted across her belly. The belly she’d been self-conscious about last night and the belly he delightfully explored after they made their way from the coffee shed to his house in the deep of the night. He’d stroked, licked, and worshipped every inch of her until they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, finally exhausting themselves. Charlotte was the first woman he’d brought to his bedroom, undressed in front of the full-length mirror in the corner, made love to as night turned into morning, the first rays of the sun filtering in, drenching her bare shoulders in dewy light. Sensual in every way imaginable, they connected on a deeper level than the mere physical, and she stoked in him fires he had no desire to extinguish.

Rolling over in her sleep, her chest strained against the Rolling Stones t-shirt she’d put on at some point in the early morning, the famous lip and tongue logo disappearing between her lush mounds. “Good morning,” she whispered, a second before lifting her drowsy eyelids. “Are you always this sexy in the morning or am I special?” Charlotte’s shiny purple nails scraped his cheeks, his stubble making her giggle.

“You’re definitely special,” he assured her, voice thick with desire, hands sliding under his shirt to cup her breasts. Squeezing them, he growled as her hand ducked under the waistband of his shorts. His head fell back, arms slumped next to his prone body as her mouth trailed a path over his stomach, and his thighs clenched with need. “Charlotte,” he pleaded, choked with lust.

Nymph-like, she rose to her knees, straddling his hips. Henry gripped the hem of the t-shirt, wrenching it off before tossing it across the room. He’d keep her naked in his bed all day if she agreed, he thought, as she descended excruciatingly slowly. When she leaned forward, his palms cupped her bottom, because she was going to kill him if she maintained this languorous speed. “God, Charlotte!” he yelled, just as she slumped onto him.

“Mmm, Henry, I wish we could do this all day,” she said huskily, curling into his side, fingertips drawing mysterious patterns on his chest.

Chuckling, his hand caressed her petal-smooth shoulder. “I’ve never done that,” he admitted.

“What? Spent the day in bed with someone? Me neither.”

“No?” Even now, he loathed the idea of the two of them ever leaving his bed.

“Brady and I never made time for each other like that. First, we were so young, married with a baby, trying to figure out how to be parents. Then, once Isobel started school, I began my college courses, and being a mom and student left no time for us. And then I started teaching.” She shrugged. “You know how life goes.”

He did, all too well. “Did you always want to be an English teacher?” Henry shifted slightly to see her face better.

Charlotte gave a short laugh. “No, actually. In my senior year, I didn’t know what I was going to major in, but I had big dreams.”

Able to imagine her accomplishing anything, he inquired, “Like what?”

“Oh, I wrote some short stories that got some some attention my junior year at a workshop for young writers sponsored by the University of Iowa.”

“Oh, Effie’s been looking into the writing program there, I think for after she and Josh are settled from the wedding.”

“My stories have nothing on that novel she wrote. She calls it young adult lit, but it transcends that.” Loosely based on Effie’s own life, the novel was about a teenage Lakota girl discovering herself through her love of running.

“I agree, it’s brilliant.” Henry brushed a dark curl from Charlotte’s forehead. “Tell me your other options.”

“Well, Iowa State University offered me a scholarship for their theatre department.”

Henry’s stomach clenched. “For acting?” Please say no, he silently begged.

“Yeah. I loved it. Imagined myself the next Patti LuPone on Broadway.”

“You never mentioned acting the day in Mr. Beans when we were talking about you directing.”

“No, I guess I didn’t. I was so flustered by seeing you,” she confessed, scraping her nails on his chest. Henry gently extricated himself from her, rolled over, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Henry? Is something wrong?”

Henry was unable to breathe for a moment because Charlotte’s “dream” disturbingly mirrored his ex-wife’s. “No,” he finally answered, grabbing his shorts from the floor before sliding them on. “I just remembered that there’s some paperwork I need to do today at the shop. It needs to be ready by tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Charlotte clutched the sheet to her chest as she searched under the covers for her clothes. Picking up the crumpled t-shirt she’d worn, he handed it across the bed to her.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, slinking out into the bathroom. “Idiot,” he admonished himself in the mirror. Why the hell had he reacted like that, just because Charlotte had mentioned wanting to be an actress? It’s not like she and Melanie were at all alike, other than this. He splashed icy water in his face, then softly padded back into the bedroom.

“Hey, I think I’m going to go,” Charlotte announced, fully dressed, to his dismay. “If you’re going to the shop, I have some stuff to do at home, anyway.”

He’d royally messed things up, and he cursed himself. “Charlotte, no, I’m sorry. Stay, and we can have breakfast.”

“Amy is coming up for the rodeo today, anyway, and will be here around noon.”

“Charlotte, I’m sorry…this is all new for me. I’m trying…” He took a deep breath, “I’m trying to figure it all out.”

“I know.” She grabbed his hand. “It’s new for me, too. I’m not upset, I promise.” Her hand on his cheek, she assured him, “Hey, it’s okay.”

Her brown eyes shone sincerely, and he kissed her gently on her forehead. “Let me get dressed and I’ll take you home,” he said, pulling on his jeans from the night before. From the bed, he once again plucked the t-shirt Charlotte had worn and yanked it over his head, relishing her scent permeating the cotton.

As they walked in silence, Henry debated whether to explain why he had freaked out—would she want to hear how damaged he was from his marriage? She’d been open with him about hers, but he worried it wasn’t the same. Glancing down at Charlotte, he decided to take a chance. “I’d like to explain what happened earlier at my house.”

“It’s okay, Henry. I promise I’m not upset. And this isn’t me being passive-aggressive.” Her smile was radiant with forgiveness.

“Believe me, I’ve experienced that before, which is why I’d like to explain.” Picking up her hand, he gently kissed her knuckles. “Please?”

“Okay,” she agreed, tucking his arm behind her, an action that brought their bodies together, and she lifted onto her toes, her mouth meeting his for a tender kiss.

“My ex…Melanie…I told you how we met when we were both working at the Grand Canyon, and it was a time when I was pretty vulnerable. My two best friends from high school were supposed to come with me to work there, too. I had planned the whole thing for us, but they cancelled on me the day before we were going to leave.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Yeah. We never stayed friends after, because of it, but also…other things. Anyway, as luck would have it, I met Juan on my first day, and we became friends immediately. Working there was great. I had fun, hiking with Juan on our days off, hanging out with his girlfriend, going camping with other kids we became friends with. It was the summer of my life. And then I met Melanie. Her car had broken down somewhere…she was never quite exact about the location. I didn’t have any experience with girls, but I’m sure you’ve heard about my past with DD, which is humiliating to think about now, let alone talk about it.” Charlotte grabbed his hand, stopping them in their tracks.

“Please don’t be embarrassed to tell me anything, Henry, especially about your emotions.” He squeezed her hand gratefully.

“At the end of the summer, we found out she was pregnant. We moved back to Clover Lake, got married. Turned out she actually wasn’t pregnant. I don’t know if it was a faulty test or maybe she was, but then had a miscarriage. Josh didn’t come along until a couple of years later. My sister always thought she lied about being pregnant to trap me.” Henry shook his head. “I never thought that. The last thing Melanie wanted was to be married. You see, when her car broke down, she was on her way to California to be an actress…it was all she ever talked about. Everything was ‘When I get to Hollywood’. Even after we got married, that’s all I heard.”

“So when I said I wanted to be an actress when I was a teenager…”

“Yep, full-on psycho reaction by me.” He gave a quiet laugh, doing his best to make light of his situation. “I wish I could say I was one hundred percent surprised when she finally left, but I wasn’t. Her plan had never been to stay in South Dakota. “

“Any idea where she went?”

“None. She wasn’t the type to leave a forwarding address.” Was now the time to admit about the calls and texts from Melanie?

He considered doing just that when Charlotte shocked him. “So what did you give up?”

“Excuse me?”

“She gave up Hollywood. What did you give up? I’m sure you had dreams, too.”

Awkward silence ensued. He hated talking about what might have been. “College,” he finally admitted. “I gave up college.”

“So back on our first date, when I asked if you enjoyed working at the auto shop…no wonder.” He stopped them this time, flashing her a quizzical look. “You never really answered, just said it was the only thing you knew.” Stunned she remembered, he nodded. “Tell me what was going to be your major.”

He paused briefly. “Pre med.”

As he watched, understanding dawned in her brown eyes. “You were going to be a doctor…like Josh.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he demurred. “Josh is special.”

“So are you.” Charlotte placed her palm on his face. “You are so incredible, Henry. I’ve blathered on, more than once, about my job, my marriage. I wish I’d asked you some of these questions before, but everyone made it seem like it was taboo to say anything.”

Henry cleared his throat. “It’s hard to talk about my failures with my family.”

They’d arrived at Charlotte’s house, but neither one made a move to walk up the path to her door. “That’s not how you see yourself, though, is it? As a failure?” Solemn brown eyes glazed with tears, she shook her head. “Because you’re not. From what I’ve experienced, you are an amazing dad. Josh does nothing but rave about you, how you’ve been the constant in his life, how you supported him in every way. Your sister thinks you’re a genius. Everything is ‘Henry knows this’ and ‘Henry can do that’. And around town, everyone has a story about how you’ve helped them.”

“Not that anyone is biased or anything,” he responded, unused to this attention.

At her door, she faced him. “And what you’ve made me feel.” She tipped her head back. “When I came to Beverley, I wasn’t looking for romance, with anyone. All I wanted was a fresh start. And then I saw you, sitting on that bench. Reading. Do you know how turned on I was from the first second?” Her hands grasped his arms. “And then there’s the way you lean into me when I’m speaking, especially after you’ve asked a question. Like you really care about my answer.” Her voice dropped to a low murmur. “And the way I saw myself, through your eyes, last night, in the mirror. Sensual, passionate, desirable, despite my flaws.”

“No flaws,” he said fiercely. “Only beauty.”

“Henry.” Charlotte gazed up at him, under the longest lashes he’d ever seen, transfixing him by the way they brushed her cheeks. “If you keep staring at me like that, not to mention this sexy leaning thing you’re doing…”

Henry rubbed a finger from her cheekbone to her ear, tempted to follow her into her house. “I had the most amazing night with you, Charlotte,” he said, and his phone rang in his pocket, followed by a ping. Then another ping. Then another. “I’m sorry,” he said to Charlotte before checking his phone.

Are you busy?

Need to talk to you!

Emergency! Coming to your house!

“It’s Liam,” he explained. “He’s on his way to my house, says it’s urgent. I’d better go see what he needs.”

Charlotte nodded, rubbing his arm. “Of course. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“I don’t want to get in your way with Amy here.”

“Maybe we can get together, the three of us, tonight?” Relieved at the prospect of seeing her again today, he pulled her close for a deep, lingering kiss.

As briskly as he could, with Charlotte on his mind the entire way, Henry texted Liam and strode home, finding his nephew inside, slumped in a chair on his porch.

“Liam, what’s wrong?”

“Uncle Henry! I need your help, your wisdom, your maturity. Do you have any coffee?” As soon as they were inside, Liam went to the kitchen and opened a cupboard. “I need some joe desperately.”

“Do you want flavored or not?” Henry reached into his coffee cabinet, which held a dozen different labeled jars of coffee.

“Um…you pick.” Just as Henry chose a Brazilian roast that was strong enough to bring back the dead, Liam changed his mind. “No, actually, maybe something with, like, caramel tones in it? You once made a chocolate brownie flavor with sea salt caramel. That was so good.” Henry plucked that blend from the top shelf and ground the beans. His nephew continued, “Anyway, I really needed you last night, but I didn’t bother you because I saw you dancing with Charlotte at the street dance. Good on you for that, by the way. Oh,” Liam darted his eyes around the room, “I’m not interrupting anything here, am I? I mean, I know no one is here, but are you expecting company? If you are, I’ll be okay. We can talk another time. Besides, Cait will give me hell if she knows I’m here this morning. I was under strict orders to leave you alone, because, well…Charlotte…” Liam finally took a breath while Henry poured him a cup of coffee, which he drank after doctoring it with an alarming amount of sugar.

“No, it’s fine that you’re here.” Wanting to keep Charlotte to himself for the time being, he kept the conversation back on Liam. “What was so urgent that you needed to talk to me?” Armed with his own cup of coffee, he took eggs and sausage out of the fridge for breakfast.

Liam rubbed his hands through the chestnut-colored hair he had inherited from his mom, then looked at Henry with blue eyes so light they were grey. His nephew’s charming swagger hid an emotional depth that most people never saw, because they never looked beyond his attractive facade. Like Henry, his nephew had the tendency to question whether he was good enough to deserve love. “It’s Lana.”

“Have you been in touch with her?”

“Kind of? She’s been texting me these messages, pouring her heart out…showing her vulnerability. But…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you’re ready to forgive her?”

“It’s not about me forgiving her, because she didn’t do anything that requires forgiveness. I just don’t know if I can open myself up again.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, Liam.” Or it hadn’t, but Liam had changed in the past year, growing quieter, duller, and more withdrawn. “Tell me what happened.”

“No one really knows this, but last summer, when I saw her in New York…Uncle Henry…I was going to propose…”

“What do you mean? Let it out, son.” He put an arm around Liam’s wide shoulders as his emotion took over.

“She…she wouldn’t even let me get it out, turned me down before I could even ask her, then walked away from me. That’s when I gave up and quit messaging her.” Henry offered Liam a box of tissues from the counter, and he blew his nose, “Now she’s sending me mind-blowing messages, but I’ve moved on…or I tried to, anyway, when I dated Sabrina, but I couldn’t. She’s the only one I’ve ever…the only woman I’ve ever loved. Still love.”

“I know Josh and Effie invited her to the wedding. Is she coming?”

“Josh says he hasn’t heard yet, but if she does, I don’t know how I can see her without wanting her again. But how can I trust that she won’t hurt me?”

Henry was familiar with Liam’s anguish; it’s why, after being crushed by Melanie, he’d spent years hesitant about opening himself up to anyone. Until Charlotte. “If she’s messaging you and maintaining that line of communication, it sounds like she regrets what happened between you.”

“I keep replaying how she pushed me away after I told her I loved her…after I proposed. But I miss her so damn much, it’s tearing me apart.”

Henry knew the pain of having love rejected. He’d tried over and over with Melanie to prove his love. Aware she wasn’t thrilled with living in his hometown above his parents’ garage, he’d been determined to make the best of it for them. Together, they’d decorated their small apartment to get ready for the baby. Then Melanie got her period, and the reason for giving up college had disappeared. Newlyweds who had not expected to be married became teenagers who had impetuously erased their futures. Despite this, Henry had loved Melanie and tried his best to make her happy, through blood, sweat, and tears. Nothing worked, though; she’d been resentful and resigned until she’d gotten pregnant with Josh a few years later. Through the birth of their son, Melanie transformed into a doting mother. She’d taught Josh to count when he was only a year old, and because she’d read to him constantly, he could read by the time he was three. If not for her vigilance, Josh might not have become the brilliant surgeon he was today. After Josh was born, their married life became what Henry had wished for. They were happy. Until DD came back to town as a widow with a five-year-old daughter. In tiny Clover Lake, tongues wagged, with people remembering how love-struck Henry had been for the captivating Diadema. He denied any accusations Melanie tossed at him, but nothing he said made any impact. Melanie spiraled, pushing him away and shutting everyone out, until one day she was gone. No note, no goodbye, no word of any kind. He blamed himself solely for his marriage crumbling, but would never forgive Melanie for abandoning their only child.

His issues weren’t the same as his nephew’s, so he advised Liam, “Think about what your life would be without Lana in it. If you can’t live with that, you do whatever it takes to change it.”

Dear Charlotte,

All I can think about is last night.

How you looked waking in my bed.

How you felt next to me.

All I want is you.

Reading the text from Henry, Charlotte blushed. She ran her thumb over his words, wishing he were here so she could touch him. Fresh out of the shower when her phone pinged, Charlotte assumed it was Amy letting her know she was almost to Beverley. To her delight, the message was from Henry, whose scent still remained on her skin. Her fingers fluttered over her shoulder, recalling his touch. With a sigh, she dropped onto her bed.

Her phone rang then, and she answered immediately without looking at the screen. “Hello?”

“I’m getting married, Char.”

Thoughts of Henry made it difficult to place the voice on the other end of the line. “Excuse me?”

“I’m getting married, Char,” the voice repeated. “We had dinner with Isobel last night, so she knows.”

A few seconds elapsed before she said, “Brady?”

He chuckled. “Who else calls you Char?”

“I’m sorry, did you say you’re getting married?” Even as she said it, she didn’t think she’d heard him correctly.

“Yeah, we haven’t set a date, but as Harmony pointed out, we’re too old to wait around.”

“But,” she finally managed, “you said when we divorced that you didn’t think you would ever marry again.”

“Everything was still so raw then. Even though I had already met Harmony, our divorce still hurt,” Brady told her. “Char, I will never regret us and the life we made, but I was in denial for so many years. I knew you didn’t love me anymore. You always loved me, I know, but you weren’t in love with me. And I’ve never said it, but when we found out you were pregnant, it wasn’t fair of me to assume that I would be the one to go to college. You were looking forward to it as much as I was. Part of me, I think, was scared that you would figure out a way to have your life with the baby without me.”

“Oh, Brady, I never wanted that.” Who was this Brady, finally voicing what she had held in her head for thirty years? “I just wanted the same choices you had.” After she found out she was pregnant, she raised the possibility of continuing on to college. The baby wasn’t due until February, which meant Charlotte could have a semester under her belt before Isobel was born. She explained she’d take the second semester off and then go back the following fall, with their infant in daycare. Brady had adamantly opposed it, as had his parents. Hers had agreed, but Brady’s parents were younger and more forceful than hers. “How did Isobel take the news?”

“She’s happy for us. I asked her not to say anything because I wanted you to hear it from me.” Ahh, that explained why Isobel hadn’t called to tell her about it; she disliked going against either of her parents, and as close as she and Charlotte were, she’d been a daddy’s girl since her tiny fist wrapped around his teenaged finger. “She and Harmony have grown close.” Close? Except for telling Charlotte that her dad was doing well, Isobel rarely ever mentioned Brady’s girlfriend…now fiancée, she supposed. “And I should probably add that Amy knows, also.”

“What? How did Amy find out?” Furthermore, why hadn’t Amy told her? Charlotte could excuse Isobel for remaining silent, but her best friend?

“We ran into her after our engagement dinner.”

“Engagement dinner?” When Charlotte and Brady had gotten engaged, she had been four months pregnant, and dinner was a box of store-brand macaroni and cheese she’d made after her lifeguarding shift at the town pool. Her parents had been in Des Moines for the weekend for a family reunion, something that her mom had pleaded with her to attend as well, but Charlotte, irritable and hormonal, refused to find someone to cover her shift at the pool. For years, she had regretted not going with her parents, believing that if she had, maybe Brady would not have proposed; that was how emotionally immature she had been. “Where was your dinner?”

Brady paused before admitting, “Il Giardino.”

“Il Giardino?” Charlotte repeated. “That’s our place.” Inexplicably frustrated by his announcement, she reminded Brady, “We had our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary there…the staff knows my order by heart.” Always the sixteen-layer lasagna, made with their legendary red sauce and topped with melty mozzarella. Why couldn’t he have found somewhere else to celebrate? Was the life she had lived in Sioux City being erased, simply because she was out of town?

“Char, I’m sorry. I…I thought you were moving on…that you had moved on. Isobel raves about your life in Beverley.” Which, yes, Charlotte adored, but did that mean she was never going back to her old one in Sioux City?

“I love living here…but I don’t know if it’s forever.” And yet, Beverley was where she was flourishing: in her career and now, finally, in the arms of Henry, exploring elements of herself she’d not known existed.

“What about that mechanic you went out with?” Mechanic? Henry was so much more: business owner, crafter, purveyor, father, friend. Brady continued, “Isobel said you had a date.” No one knew about her evening with Henry yet, and the last person Charlotte wanted to confide in was her ex-husband. “I take it from your silence that it’s none of my business, but if he’s as great as our daughter and your best friend have let on, you could have a second chance at happiness…at love.”

Charlotte sighed, missing Henry and eager to be off the phone with Brady. “I’m sorry. I want you to be happy, too. You deserve that. What I should’ve said right away is congratulations to both you and Harmony. It’s too early to talk about things with Henry, but right now, I am very…happy.” Her doorbell rang. “I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.” Ending the call with her ex-husband, she sprinted from her bedroom to the front door.

“Avon calling. Did someone order a Hardee’s breakfast biscuit?” Amy held out a paper bag in one hand and a styrofoam cup in the other, looking her up and down. “Hey, sexy mama. I could’ve been anyone, or do you always open the door in just your robe?”

Ignoring the question, she asked her own instead, “Why didn’t you tell me about Brady?” After grabbing the bag, Charlotte opened it and inhaled deeply.

“I know, I’m sorry. He insisted on telling you himself. How’re you doing?” Amy pulled her in for a hug.

“I’m okay.” She walked into the kitchen with her breakfast treat. “Surprised, but now that the news has sunk in, not as shocked as I was. He asked me about Henry, so at least it looks like I’m not pining for my ex.”

“Yes, let’s move on to Henry,” Amy wriggled her eyebrows, grinning and sitting next to her at the table. “I hope you didn’t let Brady announce he was getting remarried without giving him some spice of your own. Even if you haven’t talked to Henry for two months.” With Amy’s gaze on her, Charlotte couldn’t stop the flush spreading across her skin. Amy gasped. “What are you not telling me? Have you talked to him? Seen him? What? Spill!”

Laughing, Charlotte said, “Well, if you’d give me a minute⁠—”

“If you’ve been sitting on details about you and Henry, I’ll never forgive you!”

“I’m glad you’re here so I can tell you in person. Something happened last night. And this morning. And many times in between.” With a scream echoing in her ears, Amy pulled her from her seat by her arms and spun her around the kitchen.

“I’m so proud—you’ve been properly laid, I can tell.”

Blushing furiously, Charlotte responded, “I wasn’t going to put it like that.”

“Give me every single detail. I bet he’s good with his hands, right? He seems like a man who knows right where to⁠—”

“Stop! I can never have you in the same room as him if you’re going to be imagining the power of his hands.” She tightened her robe and dropped into her chair. “Amy, it was incredible. Henry is incredible. We met up at the street dance last night…” And with Amy hanging on every word, she recounted her evening with Henry, leaving out the more…creative details.

“I know you’ve probably only told me twenty-five percent of what happened between you and the sexy mechanic, but damn, Lottie, if I ever find myself lucky enough to be given a tour of the coffee shed, the image of you two on top of that table?”

“The sex was…shattering…unlike anything I’ve ever experienced-”

“Well, you only have Brady to compare it to, bless him.”

“But more than that, he’s unbelievable. The craftsmanship of that shed, the coffee in it…he is so considerate, so thoughtful.”

“Do you know how many women would kill to be in your shoes? You’re divorced from a man who isn’t a piece of garbage and you’ve met a man who sounds fucking perfect.” Amy laughed. “I mean, I know he’s probably not perfect, but he is one in a million. So what’s the deal? Why are you spending the day here with me and not in bed with him?”

One of Amy’s best attributes was saying something completely outrageous yet also undeniably true. “Well, he had to go to the shop, and you’re here.”

“And? You just had a night of what sounds like life-altering sex. Please, feel free to blow me off! I’m sure if you gave him the slightest nudge, he would’ve forgotten anything he had to do in the shop. I mean, he is the owner.”

“I just don’t know…he’s been single for so long. Is he looking for something serious? Am I? I mean, I spent thirty years yearning for freedom, then when I get it, I start up an intense relationship with the first man I meet? Granted, it took me two years to finally get a date with him, but shouldn’t I be sowing my wild oats?”

“Bitch, get out there and sow them, then! You are so damn beautiful that any man should fall to his knees if you looked twice at him! You’ve had your ‘freedom’ for two years, and he’s the only man you’ve been interested in. So much so that you’ve essentially been pining for him the entire time. You’ve had two lackluster dates with other men, but other than that, you haven’t done anything to meet anyone else. I’ve asked you a million times about any single dads at the high school. Nothing. Why not just relax and see where things lead with Henry? A guy like that—there’s no way other women haven’t tried to get him in the exact position you had him last night…excuse the phrasing.” Amy swiped Charlotte’s coffee and took a drink. “But you’re the only one who succeeded. Without an agenda. Without trying. He wants you, Lottie. He’s probably as cautious as you…more so, in fact. Ride him for eight seconds, and if you lose your grip and fall off, you get back in the chute and wait for another bull.”

“Rodeo analogies? I didn’t know you were so versed in the sport.”

“Seems appropriate. Speaking of which, if you’re not going to rope him right now, let’s go to the rodeo for a while. Maybe I can find my own cowboy to take on a trip around the arena, if you get my drift. Could be husband number three, if he lets me hogtie him.”

Chuckling, Charlotte said, “Let me get dressed.” In her room, she changed into a sleeveless navy-and-white striped top with a row of decorative buttons adorning it and a pair of loose-fitting olive shorts that ended right above her knees.

Amy whistled. “Those shorts look hot on you, Lottie. Now let’s get to the rodeo before all the good cowboys are gone.” She pulled on a glittery white cowboy hat, and then they were out the door.

At the rodeo grounds, they found seats just beyond the reach of the canopy. “Damn, what is with the lack of trees at every rodeo? Is it a must that we have to fry our asses off?” Amy grumbled. “I’m going to go to the concession stand for a water. Do you want anything?” When Charlotte didn’t answer, Amy said, “I’m guessing by the smile on your face and the way you’re stroking your phone that Henry just texted?”

She showed Amy:

Dear Charlotte,

I hope you’re having a pleasant time with Amy.

I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on any work,

and for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to.

Sorry if I text as if I’m composing a letter.

Josh always says I’m too formal.

Amy sighed. “Nope, not perfect at all, is he?”

Charlotte grinned and held her phone to her chest. “Did you say you were getting a water? I’ll take one, too.” As soon as Amy gave her a thumbs-up and a knowing grin, she quickly answered Henry.

As an English teacher, I appreciate that your texts aren’t a collection of abbreviations, haha.

Amy and I just got to the rodeo.

It’s so hot out here.

But not as hot as last night.

I can’t stop thinking about you, either.

Charlotte fanned her flushed face with the rodeo program, craning her neck looking for Amy, desperate for the water she urgently needed to cool herself down. Spotting the white cowboy hat and Amy’s contrasting black hair, she saw her talking to a man about a head taller than her friend, also wearing a cowboy hat. Amy was half a foot taller than Charlotte, so the man had to be well over six feet. And as he glanced her way, she could see he was at least ten years younger. Okay, Amy had found her cowboy for the night.

When Amy got back to her seat, she said, “Hey, Lottie, if you want to take off and go see Henry, I’m fine with that. Rhett said he’d be glad to keep me company.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at her friend. “Rhett, huh? You don’t think he’s a little young?”

“Lottie, you know since my second divorce, I’m not fooling around with men my age. Besides, he’s not that young.”

She longed to go to Henry, but loathed to leave Amy. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ditch you…”

“Totally. We can meet up for dinner later, unless you’re too preoccupied,” Amy winked.

“Well, okay, then. Call me if you need a ride,” to which Amy raised her eyebrows.

Deciding to surprise Henry with lunch, she stopped at the concession stand and ordered two bratwursts with sauerkraut, Dakota Style chips, and a homemade pretzel with beer cheese. “Is this all for you, Charlotte?” Ellen Lefferts asked.

“I’m actually taking it to someone. Can I get a bag?”

“Ah…Henry?” How could Ellen know? “Ruth mentioned seeing the two of you at the dance last night.” And Ruth, being Ruth, had mentioned it to her mom, along with probably half of Beverley by now. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she hasn’t told anyone else. She just said that you both seemed very happy. I’ve known Henry for a long time. He’s spectacular. Tell him I said hi.” Handing her the bag, Ellen said, “Here’s your food. By the way, I was serious when I told you yesterday that we need to go to breakfast again.” Was that only yesterday? So much had happened that it seemed like a week ago.

“Definitely. Give my best to John, okay?”

“Oh, he’s here somewhere. Somebody came and got him. Apparently there’s some trouble with a horse.” Ellen’s husband had been a renowned veterinarian before retiring a few years ago.

Parking in front of Check Care Auto, she waved at Liza, Effie’s boss, and Ashley, owner of the Beverley Bake Shoppe, who were sitting at a table outside Mr. Beans. Paul and Adam were also outside and yelled a greeting across the street.

The garage doors to the shop were down, and she called, “Henry,” after peeking her head in. Faint strains of music came from the direction of his office, along with the tantalizing aroma of…was that chocolate she smelled? And marshmallow? Closing the door behind her, her thumb slipped over the lock in the center of the handle. “Henry,” Charlotte called again, noting the collection of tools next to and under the vintage truck in the garage. Black with what looked like a racing stripe across the door and front panel, the vehicle gleamed under the bright lights of the shop. A rag rested on top of the hood, but there were no other signs of Henry.

In her flip-flops, she padded to his office, expecting to find his broad shoulders bent over end-of-day paperwork, but his office, too, was empty. Where in the world was he? She traced a finger along the desk, which seemed to pulse, echoing the heartbeat of its owner.

“Charlotte?” Whirling at the sound of his deep voice, her mouth dried at the sight of him: clad in denim coveralls that were unbuttoned to his waist, wearing a white undershirt. Her eyes snapped up to his face. “Charlotte,” he repeated silkily, blue eyes shining while he leaned against the door frame.

Swallowing furiously, attempting not to pass out in his office, her eyes drifted helplessly from his handsome, smiling face to his broad shoulders. Struck with the overwhelming urge to go to him and inhale what she knew would be his utterly male scent, she lifted the bag of food. “I brought you lunch.”

His eyes locked with hers. “I’m starving.”

After thinking of Charlotte all day, here she was at his desk, as if he’d summoned her, wearing a pair of shorts that grazed thighs so delectable that he clenched his hands. When he first heard her calling his name, he’d been in the restroom washing his hands of the grime of the day. Not taking the time to bother with a paper towel, he hurriedly wiped them on the front of his coveralls. Completely unlike him, but what was a man to do when the enchanting voice of the woman who had been occupying his thoughts…his dreams…his desires…called out? Her round hip rested against his desk, reminding him of when he’d lifted her onto the table in his coffee shed last night and, under her skirt, the softness of her thighs awaited him. The hitch of her breath in his ear as his fingers sampled her damp silkiness until she had quivered around him haunted him all morning. No woman had ever responded to him the way she had, and he yearned for the delicious weight of her in his hands again. Overcome with wanting, he braced himself against his office doorway, where the sounds of the Eagles and the smell of his S’mores coffee swirled around to create an erotic experience, made more so once he glimpsed her bare toes painted an electric-blue. “I’m starving.” Just not for food.

“It’s just some food from the snack bar at the rodeo.” Heaven help her with the way his eyes singed her. Sexual energy hung heavy between them, rooting her in place in fear of doing something audacious. Like ripping his clothes off in this office. The trilling phone behind her rang, breaking the spell, and Henry took two steps closer to grab the receiver.

Not now, he thought as he answered, “Hello?” with nothing but faint breathing on the other end. Sure that it was his ex-wife, he simply hung up instead of demanding she speak, not wanting to make an issue while Charlotte was here.

“Wrong number?” she asked, troubled by the annoyed expression Henry wore.

“Yeah, I guess. We get them every once in a while.” Brushing any thought of Melanie away, he smiled at the sensual woman before him. “You brought me lunch.”

“I just…I was wishing you were at the rodeo with us, and then texting you made me want to see you.”

Certain his voice would crack with desire if he spoke, he first drank from a bottle of water in his back pocket. “I’ve been thinking of you all day.” For the first time, work had been impossible for him to concentrate on. “I was just going to wash up and head out there.”

Pink stained her cheeks when she said, “You were?”

He nodded. “We were busy earlier, but it died down about an hour ago, so I sent everyone home. Or to the rodeo, probably. Thank you for the lunch. I didn’t have time to eat anything earlier.” That, and the anticipation of seeing her later had filled him, along with worry that he might not, since she might be too preoccupied with her friend in town.

“Ellen Lefferts said to tell you ‘hi’. It seems Ruth saw us at the dance.” Would he worry now that their relationship was exposed to the town? Or even worse, upset with her for doing so?

“So what you’re saying is the entire town knows about us?” He didn’t care—let them all know. He wanted nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops.

“Well, I’m sure they don’t know we spent the night together, if you’re worried-”

“I’m not,” Henry assured her, leaning forward to cup her face. “Charlotte, I need you to know that you and me? I’m all in, whatever this is between us. At whatever pace you want. For everyone to know.”

“I want that, too,” she said quietly. “For so long, I didn’t know what I wanted. When my marriage ended, the only thing on my mind was figuring out who I was…who I had become as an adult, without thinking of myself as a wife and mother. The last thing I imagined was starting a relationship. But then I saw you. And you have interested me, intrigued me, called to me, incessantly. Even when months passed without seeing you, I felt the same way I did that first day.” Her hand scraped against his rough cheek. “Butterflies in my stomach.”

The intensity in her eyes conveyed her longing, and as her fragrance, a mix of vanilla and sunshine, invaded his nose, he entwined his fingers with hers. His other hand skimmed the womanly curve of her hip, dipping into her waist. When she shivered, he stepped closer, so her chest crushed against his ribs. Charlotte’s long, dark lashes fluttered, and she tipped her head back, moaning, “Henry…”

As “Best of My Love” played, Charlotte swayed in Henry’s arms, experiencing a mix of emotions ranging from desire to safety to something she wasn’t quite ready to put a name to. His body heat scorched her hand as she caressed Henry’s chest, the fabric of his shirt thin enough for her to feel his skin underneath. “Henry,” she stroked his cheek, relishing the blond scruff on his face.

Henry touched his forehead to hers, hating that he could be soiling her with his work garment, yet unwilling to release her. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he confessed, looking over at their hands, still locked together by their tightly threaded fingers. How small her hand looked in his…how perfect and unspoiled. He’d done his best to wash the oil and other residue from his hands, but had he known she’d be here, he’d have spent an hour ensuring he was pristine for her, even though no matter how hard he tried, sometimes he couldn’t remove the evidence of his workday.

“Where else would I be?” Looking into his eyes was dangerous for her heart. Standing here with him, dancing in this garage, wanting him in his office, all of it was reckless. However, nothing mattered but Henry. She’d meant it when she agreed that she, too, was all in, even if she was unsure of what the future held. “I’ve thought of nothing but last night. I’ve never…no one has ever…” Breathing deeply, she tried to calm her pounding heart. “I’ve only ever been with my ex-husband…I need you to understand that. I never dated anyone but him, never—” Henry’s mouth on hers silenced her.

“I understand,” he said, “probably more that anyone else. My dating life has been…unconventional and mostly non-existent.” Was it irony or fate that made their pasts so similar? “I was ashamed. I didn’t want to let anyone in, didn’t want anyone to know the mistakes I made after Melanie left.” Henry debated how to confess to Charlotte about one of his missteps.

She leaned back slightly to look up at him, anguish evident on his face. “Whatever you did, I understand. I can’t imagine being in your position.” Charlotte pressed closer to him, resting her head on his chest.

“I didn’t want Josh to be broken.” Henry, now ready to confide something he’d never told anyone, said, “I wrote a note to him, but made it look like it was from his mom. It was all I could think of to soften the blow. He was only twelve. Josh knows now, of course; he’d guessed it at some point.”

“Oh, Henry.” She stilled them and looked up, her eyes locking with his, her heart breaking for father and son. Every sacrifice he had made along the way, attempting to give Josh the best life possible, was here, in this auto shop. “Not many people would go to the lengths you did to ensure your son’s life remained as positive and unaffected as possible.” Yearning to make him smile again, to lighten the mood, her finger dipped into the cleft in his chin. “I have a confession to make now.”

Moving together to “Peaceful, Easy Feeling,” Henry gathered her closer. “Do you?”

“I do.” Her hand slid to the back of his neck, where his silvery blond hair curled just slightly, right below the baseball cap she had gotten used to seeing him in. “You see, Henry Livingston, your compassion, your generosity, your tender heart, turn me on, in case you hadn’t figured that out yet.” Rising on her tiptoes, she murmured, “And the more I learn about you, the more I want you, and that’s saying something, because I have thought of you every night, when I’m waiting to go to sleep. Fantasized about how you’d feel on top of me, how your hips would fit between my thighs.”

Henry groaned as her mouth captured his, and he tasted her with his tongue, savoring her sweet and salty flavor. “That’s good to know, Charlotte Berg, because you are all I have thought about since that first day. Now that I know how you feel, under me, around me, so soft, so silky-” and with his words, her mouth opened fully for him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Charlotte tugged him closer, allowing no air to flow between their bodies, but he withdrew slightly. “We can’t, not here. It’s too dirty, and I’m filthy.”

Clutching the coveralls hanging around his waist, she said, “Well, you’d better take these off, then.” Moaning in response, he gently touched the tiny buttons on her shirt before his mouth fell, raining tender kisses at her neckline, where a sunburn was developing. She reached down, grabbed the hem of her top and wrenched it off, dropping it behind her. His hands easily plunged into the loose waist of her shorts, filling his palms with the curves of her bottom. Dizzy with need, Henry traced the scalloped edge of Charlotte’s blue bra with his tongue, in awe that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. One taste, thought Henry, he just needed one taste of her, and then he would put an end to things here and take her to his house. Dipping his head to the lush mounds of her breasts, Henry groaned as her hands tugged on his hair, knocking his hat off.

“Henry,” Charlotte cried, unable to put into words how she desired him…how she couldn’t wait to have him. Her shorts pooled around her ankles.

Henry brought his hands to her face. “You are so beautiful. Too beautiful for this. We shouldn’t…this isn’t…you deserve more than this auto shop.”

As quickly as she had divested herself of her shirt, his was gone with one tug from her. Flinging her arms around his waist, she used her mouth on his chest, biting and licking while she crushed herself into him. Dazed, Charlotte whimpered, “I need you, Henry.”

Her plaintive cry in his ear, he sought to show her how much he needed her, how much he worshipped her, and dropped to his knees, raising her supple legs so she met his mouth. With her knees on his shoulders and her hands clutching his desk, she gasped, giving herself over to him. Never in his wildest imaginings had Henry ever believed a woman like Charlotte would respond so ferociously to his attentions, and he counted his lucky stars as she exploded for him.

Still holding her prone body to his, he carefully slid up to stand. Her agile fingers worked at his belt buckle until his clothes fell to his feet. Henry kicked them aside and, unable to stop himself, swept one arm across his desk, clearing paperweights, pens, an extra pair of glasses, and an empty coffee cup to the other side, not caring what, if anything, fell to the floor. Lifting her to his desk, in a haze of hunger, he watched as she drifted back, resting her head on his cap, brown waves cascading across his desk. Her bare stomach quivered under his hand, and he traced the stretch marks there that made her more compelling, more fascinating, than any of the women he had been with in the past.

Burning for her, he denied himself as he held her trembling body close, until she demanded, “Come to me,” scraping her nails down his chest. Bending, his mouth possessed hers as his body did the same.

Charlotte dug her heels into the small of Henry’s back as wave after wave of pleasure shook her. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the intensity of this moment, and she savored it, in awe as Henry collapsed on top of her.

Leaning up on his elbows, Henry framed her face in his hands, adjusting her glasses, which had gotten knocked askew from their lovemaking. “Have I mentioned how radiant you are? You take my breath away,” he told her before groaning, “that being said, the next time you seduce me, could it please be in a bedroom? Yours or mine, I’m not particular. I might be too old for this,” he chuckled.

“Henry Livingston,” Charlotte gasped, smoothing the hair from his sweaty forehead. “I believe you are the one who started dancing with me.”

“But you brought me food, wearing those shorts. All I could think about was wrapping your legs around—” Henry stopped, suddenly realizing how she’d come into the shop. “The door!”

“What? Henry, what’s wrong?”

“The shop door! I need to lock it before anyone comes in.” When she laughed, Henry asked, “What?”

“The only intruder you’ll get in here is me.” She sat up to kiss him. “I locked it after I came in.”

“Really?” Recovering as quickly as he could from their earth-shattering lovemaking, Henry picked up her clothes from the floor. “Are you still going with the story that you didn’t come here to seduce me?”

“I was just bringing you some food—I never thought I’d get this instead,” she giggled.

Henry brushed strands of her gleaming brown hair from her face. “What happened to the food? I could definitely go for some right now.”

“Pretty sure it’s somewhere in that pile over there.” Charlotte pointed to the side of his desk.

As they redressed, Henry considered Charlotte, gorgeous, standing in front of him, and imagined she would appreciate a chance to have a few minutes to herself. “There’s a nice bathroom, for an auto shop, down the hallway, if you want.”

Smiling gratefully, she stroked his lips with her thumb. All she wanted was him, but the thought of freshening up was appealing. “And then what? Amy is occupied with a cowboy she met at the rodeo, so we have a few hours to ourselves.”

“We can go to my place,” he suggested with a kiss.

Teeth tugged on his bottom lip before she asked, “Are you going to bring your coveralls?”

“These are dirty, but I have a clean pair in my locker,” he joked. A long, bright blue fingernail slowly drew a line down his chest.

“You’re so sexy in them. I’ve never been one for a man in uniform, but you are no ordinary man.” His mouth dropped open as she sauntered away from him. At the doorway, she turned around. “I’m serious about the coveralls.”

Almost Thirty Years Ago

A ball of insecurity was slowly forming in Charlotte’s stomach, like one of the rubber band balls Brady kept on his desk that he insisted on adding to after reading the weekend edition of the Sioux City Journal. She fought back tears, missing her mom and dad desperately on this momentous day. Would she ever recover from the loss of her beloved parents? Growing up, she’d known her parents were much older compared to those of her classmates and friends, but nothing had prepared her to lose them within months of each other. Imagining a life where they wouldn’t be there for her or their precious granddaughter was impossible, and she held on tightly to her daughter’s hand as the two of them walked to Longfellow Elementary. It was Isobel’s first day of kindergarten, and Charlotte’s first day of classes at La Salle University. How would she manage everything? Amy had teased that today would be her first taste of freedom, but the idea carried far too much weight. Now more than ever, she would have welcomed the endless encouragement and unfailing optimism her parents had consistently provided as she turned this corner in her life.

“Mommy, when will I see you again?” Isobel’s teary brown eyes worriedly stared up at her as her bottom lip started quivering.

Charlotte knelt down, gently reminding her, “Sweetheart, Daddy will pick you up from school today, okay? That’s why he went to work extra early this morning. When I’m done at my school, I’ll rush right home.”

“Then we can make ice cream sundaes?” One thumb-sized tear trailed down Isobel’s plump cheek.

“Then we can make ice cream sundaes,” Charlotte assured her, hugging her daughter tightly, thankful she’d come up with an after-school plan both of them could look forward to.

“Excuse me, can I get in on this?”

Isobel squealed, “Auntie Amy,” and launched her tiny form at the woman who had saved so many moments teetering on the brink of collapse. Amy’s glistening black hair streamed over her shoulders as she bent to hug the girl she’d held two hours after her birth.

Straightening, Charlotte flashed a grateful smile at her best friend as she said, “Are you sure you’re not in high school, Issy? You look so much older than these other kids.”

“Aunt Amy, don’t be silly! I’m only five! Ooh, Mommy, there’s Jackson! Can we go inside now? I’m ready for school!” Isobel gleefully announced.

Fifteen minutes later, Charlotte joined Amy outside the school entrance. “Well? How’s my goddaughter?”

“Fine,” Charlotte wiped her eyes, “but I’m not so sure about her mother.”

“What time is your first class?” Amy’s query added another rubber band to the ball in her stomach.

Charlotte paused and then replied, “Eleven.” Was this a terrible idea, starting college now, at twenty-three? She’d vowed that as soon as Isobel started school, she would, too, but maybe it was too soon? Since the day she’d registered for her classes, she’d felt selfish, and Brady hadn’t helped, often insinuating that she should hold off another year, that Isobel needed her waiting at home during her first year of school. Too easy to believe one year postponed would turn into five years, she had gone ahead with her original plan.

“Perfect. Come with me.” After ushering her into the passenger seat of her brand-new Mazda Miata, Amy handed Charlotte a Hardee’s bag, pointed to the styrofoam cups in the console, then put her car in drive.

“Is this a loaded omelette biscuit?” Taking a bite of her breakfast, Charlotte gasped, savoring the flaky, buttery biscuit piled high with sausage, bacon, and cheese, all enfolded in fluffy eggs. “You shouldn’t have, since I’m still trying to lose at least thirty pounds, but thank you.” During her pregnancy, Charlotte had gained over fifty pounds, but everyone had assured her the weight would come off once Isobel was born, then once Isobel started nursing, then once Isobel walked, but the fat had refused to listen. Although Brady never complained, Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder if her weight was keeping her from being more intimate with her husband. Their sex life now had neither the steam nor the intensity compared to when they were teenagers having sex illicitly in her childhood bedroom.

“Stop, you’re absolute perfection.” Amy pulled the car into a parking spot at the Sergeant Floyd Monument, an obelisk overlooking the Missouri River. Dedicated to Charles Floyd, a member of the Lewis and Clark Expedition who died in 1804, it had always represented freedom to Amy and Charlotte, who used to go up there to plot their escape from Sioux City once they were old enough. “Don’t tell me Brady’s been commenting on your weight.” Amy held up one of the cups, reading the lid before passing it to Charlotte. “Here you go—got you extra cream in your coffee, just the way you like it.”

“Thanks.” She tugged at her top, wishing for more room between it and her stomach. “No, he hasn’t said anything, but he can’t be happy.”

“Screw him, then. The only thing that matters is how you feel! From my vantage point, you are gorgeous.” Amy grabbed her own breasts, laughing, “I wish my boobs were as big as yours. ‘Not all of us were meant to be tall and thin’. Isn’t that what your mom always said?”

“I miss her so much, Ames. Sometimes, when Isobel is in the right light, I can see my mom in her. The way she used to tilt her head when she asked a question-”

“Or the way she frowned if no one else wanted ice cream.” Amy grinned at Charlotte. No one loved ice cream more than Saloma Sherk, and she’d passed her love for it on to her granddaughter.

“I guess I should just be thankful that Isobel got five years with my parents, huh?”

“They adored that kid so much. You were lucky to have them,” Amy said, and Charlotte grew solemn. Amy had never known her own father, and her mother had struggled as a single mom for years. In fact, Amy had spent so much time at Charlotte’s house when they were in grade school that Jacob and Saloma had called her their second daughter.

Memories rushed over her, making her wistful. “Remember the last time we were up here, Ames?” savoring the coffee her friend had brought. Amy so often knew what she needed.

“How could I forget? We came straight from Casey’s after you peed on the stick.”

“You had to buy the pregnancy test because I was too terrified to do it.”

“You would’ve had me take it for you, too, if it had made sense.”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for bringing me up here so we could wait for the results.” She shuddered. “The last place I wanted to find out was in a gas station.” Looking at Amy, she marveled, for the millionth time, how their friendship could have fallen apart after that summer, with the changes in their lives. Their bond had only gotten stronger. “You were the first person to know.”

“I was probably as terrified as you, but you kept yelling, ‘Just tell me! Just tell me!’ Bitch wouldn’t even read her own pregnancy test.” Both doubled over in giggles.

“We were so young. Brady was so pissed that you found out before he did.”

“Poor dude. Still hasn’t gotten over playing second fiddle, has he? First to me, then to Issy.”

“Have you been listening in on our fights, then?” Charlotte finished her biscuit before adding, “You know, he tried to talk me out of today.”

Amy shook her head and smirked. “What? You mean taking Issy to school?”

“No…college.”

“What the actual fuck? Are you kidding?” Amy shook her head again. Charlotte had a difficult time believing it herself. “I can’t believe him! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What could I say? He thinks it’s too much for me, that I haven’t properly grieved for my parents. And maybe I haven’t, but today has given me something to look forward to, especially with Isobel starting kindergarten. Honestly, I feel like I’d been losing Mom and Dad for years, each of them so sick, on and off, for so long.” Charlotte’s throat tightened talking about her parents, the kindest souls who had ever lived. They’d been lenient with her growing up, with fewer rules and more independence than she should have had, but all from a place of love. Grief overtook her, and she doubled over, crying. She would never talk to her mom on the phone again, her voice always laced with quiet support, and her dad was never going to surprise her with caramel rolls when she was having a bad day.

“Oh, Lottie, I know it hasn’t been easy, first losing your mom and then your dad. But they wanted this for you—they always thought you should get your degree.” Charlotte’s mom had been the one to help her decide to major in English, with her dad nudging her toward teaching. Before becoming a mother, Charlotte hadn’t known what her future would hold; too often with her head in the clouds. Once Isobel was born, she had no choice but to be realistic, with neither the time nor the headspace to dream.

Wiping tears away, Charlotte admitted, “It’s not just about my parents, though. Brady is worried that college is going to change me.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course you’re going to change—it’s part of growing up…I mean, look at me: Miss Responsibility now that I’m a nurse. I’m letting men chase me for once.” Amy’s tone lightened in the way it had so frequently this past year as she coaxed Charlotte from her misery. “I haven’t even told you yet about the hot radiologist who asked me out for dinner this weekend. God, Lottie, he is so fine. He could be the one.” Charlotte snickered. Amy had met “The One” at least a dozen times since working at the hospital. Amy turned the radio down as a Smashing Pumpkins song blasted. “Back to Brady, though—he had his time when he was in college to change. He matured. Mostly.”

“What if we grow apart?” Charlotte’s voice quivered. “What if I meet new people?”

“You and I grow apart? Never!” Amy quipped, then squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “Just kidding. I, for the record, hope you do meet new people. I’m assuming poor Brady might not be feeling the same? Is he getting paranoid?”

“Things haven’t been easy for us. He worked such long hours this summer, since it was so hot. Everyone’s air conditioning was on the fritz, and he couldn’t keep up. We haven’t gotten a lot of time together.” Sometimes it slipped her mind that she was only twenty-three. Too often she felt twice her age.

“But…you guys are good, right?”

Were they? Sometimes Charlotte stayed awake after her husband and daughter went to bed, resigned with her life: the routine, the mind-numbing repetition of every day. No passion, unlike her novels, which were too often her only comfort long into the night.

“I couldn’t handle it if you and Brady didn’t make it, you know. I was the biggest doubter when you two got married, but you guys proved me wrong.” Amy’s disapproval had almost driven a wedge in their friendship, so much so that the two of them didn’t speak after Amy went away to college, only making up when Amy came home for winter break several months later.

Charlotte waved away her best friend’s concern. “We’re fine, just adjusting to all these changes.” Should she admit she feared she wasn’t as in love with Brady as she had been before they had gotten married? When they had spent breathless moments in her bedroom, surrounded by posters of New Kids on the Block, the Goonies, and Debbie Gibson? If only she’d been more rigorous about her birth control. If only her parents hadn’t been so permissive. If only Brady had kept condoms in his wallet. If only, if only, if only…things had turned out differently. But they hadn’t, so here she was, on the first day of the rest of her life, when she could finally be in charge of her future.

“Well, you are going to be a star. And listen, I know the title of English teacher wasn’t one you’d planned since you were young, but you are going to be amazing. You love books and correcting my grammar—what more is there? Plus, I know your mom and dad are proud as hell of you, wherever they are.”

“You think so?” Charlotte’s voice wobbled.

Drawing her into a hug, Amy rubbed Charlotte’s back. “Without a doubt. You know how many times your dad told me that you were their greatest blessing? And your mom on your wedding day, when everyone was all sour pickles and gloom and doom, showed me that blanket she was knitting for the baby⁠—”

Charlotte interrupted, “Isobel still has it, sleeps with it every night.”

“See? And even though she’s young, Issy will have those memories of her grandparents. Now, my friend, wipe those eyes and finish that coffee, because it’s time to get you back to your car so you can get your happy ass to college—finally!”

A week had passed since the rodeo dance, and tonight, Henry and Charlotte were going out to dinner with Josh and Effie. He desperately needed a second opinion, so he urgently dialed his future daughter-in-law. “Help! I’m having, believe it or not, a wardrobe crisis. Can you come over?” Though he had woken up every morning with Charlotte in his arms, he explained to Effie, “I want to look my best. It’s only our second date, really, and you know Charlotte will be magnificent.” Undoubtedly, his life’s value had increased exponentially with her in it: the sun shone brighter, the breeze felt more refreshing, his food tasted better, and he had to match her in the sunshine and positivity she exuded. Or try to, anyway.

The benefit of his son and Effie living just around the block meant she arrived two minutes later, with a knock on his bedroom door. “Henry! Has a tornado been through Beverley?” Strewn across his bed were a dozen shirts, all tossed aside for various reasons. “Well, I see why you rejected these,” Effie remarked, pointing to the bed. “They’re fine under normal circumstances, but not if you want to drive Charlotte mad.”

“I don’t know if that’s my intention.” Henry flushed. What Effie didn’t know was that he had already figured out at least a hundred different ways to drive Charlotte mad, and they all had the same effect on him, too.

Effie laughed. “Trust me. She wants to be driven mad.” Effie ducked into his closet. “No. No. No. Ah, we have a winner!” She presented a long-sleeved royal blue western shirt he hadn’t worn in years.

“Are you sure? I may have gone up a size or two since I bought that.”

Effie eyed him. “Trust me. Even if it’s a little tight, Charlotte will go crazy. Maybe even more if it’s tight,” Effie winked. “I’m kidding, Henry. Try it on over your t-shirt.” Henry complied, and Effie clapped her hands. “See! I knew it! And that color? Makes your blue eyes pop! You know brown-eyed women love blue-eyed men!” She batted her own golden-brown eyes at him. “I have to get home now and make sure Josh and I look as good as you and Charlotte!” She kissed his cheek. “See you in a bit!”

Ready to surprise Henry when he arrived, Charlotte was waiting in her driveway, giddy with anticipation, despite the fact that she’d seen him less than four hours ago. Her heart thumped when he pulled up to the curb. “Hey.” She leaned into the open window of his car, greeting him with a kiss. “I thought we’d take the Tempest.” She dangled the keys in front of him, and he beamed at her, which was the reaction she was looking for. She scooted back so he could open the door, and when he stepped out, the rays of the setting sun highlighted his silvery blond hair. “You look so handsome.” She greeted him with a kiss. “I love this color on you! I especially love the way your shoulders look.” Her fingers trailed down the front. “And snaps again? Are you trying to seduce me before dinner?” Henry’s hands slid from her waist down to the curve of her bottom, pressing her into his solid strength.

With her hair flowing around her, she was stunning, and he wrapped a palmful of her dark hair around his hand, letting strands sift through his fingers. “I’m sure we can spare fifteen minutes, right?”

By the time they arrived at the Cattlemen’s Club Steakhouse, they were breathless and flushed, and Effie flashed Charlotte a knowing look with her eyebrow raised. Charlotte fought back a grin and lost, mindful that her neck showed the evidence of their late arrival.

Drinks were ordered and appetizers chosen before Henry’s heart rate settled into a normal pattern. “Dad, mind if I drop by the shop tomorrow? I think I need some new brake pads. I’ll do them myself, but I thought it’d be nice to bring some breakfast over, and we can eat first.”

“You can come, but I won’t be there.”

Josh reacted with an open-mouthed stare. “What? But it’s Saturday.”

“I’m taking the day off,” Henry grinned to Charlotte, who rubbed her hand up his thigh underneath the table.

“You’re taking tomorrow off. Saturday. The day you’ve always said is the busiest day of your week?” Josh moved aside to let the waiter place their appetizers on the table.

Effie passed around platters of sausage-stuffed mushrooms and grilled shrimp with garlic butter. “Babe, if your dad wants to take tomorrow off, why don’t we let him do that?” Effie took her fiancé’s hand in her own, bringing it to her lips for a kiss. “It’s good, right, Josh?” She nudged him under the table, which Charlotte felt, since Effie’s foot grazed her knee on the way to Josh’s.

“Obviously,” Josh acknowledged. “I’ve just never known him to take a day off.” Then, he leaned over to kiss Effie’s forehead.

Charlotte ducked her head to hide her smile, touched by Henry’s thoughtfulness. He had told her this morning that he was thinking of taking the day off, but had not confirmed it, and her mind filled with possibilities for them. “So, tell me how the wedding planning is going.”

“Everything is really coming along. Only one thing, actually, since there are a few extra invitations.” Effie turned to Josh. “Are you sure about⁠—”

Josh cut her off, “Yes. And the answer is still no,” his tone stern. “Effie is concerned I’ll have second thoughts about not reaching out to Mom.”

Henry’s stomach dropped. He’d support his son’s decision no matter what, but would not look forward to seeing his ex-wife at the wedding. The risk that she could ruin it in some way, or at least dampen the happy day, was too high. Plus, he had no interest in knowing where she was, and the last thing he wanted was an address. “And you’ve decided…?”

“I want our wedding day to be all about love. And when I think about Mom, that’s not what I feel. So no.”

Effie held up her hands. “Okay, I just wanted to check one last time. And with your dad here, in case he had an opinion.”

“I will support whatever Josh wants.” Henry suspected that his son’s stubborn streak would make it impossible for Melanie to be invited, and he hoped that held true.

Their food arrived, and once everyone had their entrée, Charlotte cut into her filet Oscar. “And how are the alterations on your dress coming along?” Effie had mentioned that her gown had been a size too small when it arrived, but with the date of the wedding so close, she had chosen a seamstress in town to do the work.

Between bites of her trout almandine, Effie brought out her phone to show Charlotte pictures of her wedding dress, warning Josh, “No peeking!”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “As if I would ever. I fully respect your wish to knock me off my feet on our wedding day.” He brought Effie’s hand to his mouth to kiss the top. “Like you do every day.”

“Oh, babe.” With her other hand on the back of Josh’s neck, Effie pulled his head to hers. Henry’s heart warmed with the easy affection his son shared with Effie.

Charlotte scrolled through several photos of Effie wearing her altered gown, and tears caught in her throat. “Oh, Effie, it is stunning. I can’t wait to see you in it in person.” Nor could she wait to be on the arm of the man sitting next to her, and she tingled as his hand stroked up her knee to the inside of her thigh.

Their server, Nevaeh, came around to ask about dessert, and Effie yawned. “Yes, but can we get ours to go? I’ve had a long day. The girls had cross-country practice at five this morning, so this early bird needs her nest.”

“No problem,” Neveah responded. “My sister woke me up this morning when she left for it, so I get it. Everyone for takeout dessert then?” Charlotte nodded after confirming with Henry.

With their desserts between them in the front seat, Charlotte studied Henry behind the wheel of her Tempest, excruciatingly attractive. Moving the food to the back, she leaned over the expanse of the front seat and ran her hand down his arm. “Do you know how sexy you are, Henry?”

He shook his head, chuckling as he slipped the key into the ignition. “Is it the shirt? Effie said you’d like it.”

Sliding closer to him, Charlotte pressed her lips to his ear, “Oh, it’s the shirt, but mostly it’s the man in the shirt.” Powerless to keep her hands off him, she hooked one leg over his lap, thankful that both the design of her classic car and the cut of her skirt allowed her enough room to sit astride his lap. Henry had mindfully parked the car at the far end of the lot, telling her that it was well away from anyone who might ding one of the doors, and at this moment, Charlotte appreciated his carefulness even more. Cupping his aroused face in her hands, she kissed him, softly at first, until one of them deepened it. Charlotte tore her lips from his. “I’ve wanted you all night.” Her hand slid down the front of his chest, popping the snaps, until she reached his waistband.

“Charlotte,” Henry growled, “all I could think of during dinner was how the candlelight twinkling in your hair made me want to see your curls around your bare shoulders, like this.” He gently tugged the shoulders of her dress down. “Because then I could tip your head back, and do this.” His tongue tasted her neck, sucking at the base, before his lips moved down, pulling on the neck of her dress even more until he exposed the lacy cups of her bra. “And then I’d remember how your thighs are so warm…so soft…and all I wanted was to be between them.” She gripped his shoulders as she cried into his mouth.

Forgetting about his car at Charlotte’s, they ended up at Henry’s house because it was closer to the restaurant. In his bed, he drew a circle on Charlotte’s stomach with his thumb, unable to remember a time of greater contentment.

Brushing her own fingers through his silky chest hair, Charlotte waited breathlessly for his hand to make its way lower. “Henry.” She hungered for more as his fingers fluttered across her hip. He had a way of holding her hips and using his thumbs to apply just the right amount of pressure. “There,” she told him, and he swallowed the sounds of her pleasure. Wearing his shirt, Charlotte urged Henry onto his back. With her dark hair falling around her shoulders and her brown eyes hooded with desire, her voice was husky when she commanded him, “I’m going to need you to be really still while I do this.”

Mindless, he could only nod, having lost his ability to speak, but he couldn’t have made a sound even if he wanted to. All he cared about was the sight of her, the weight of her, and the smell of her, and how insanely erotic she was, with his shirt hanging open, allowing him free access to stroke every inch of her ripe, velvety skin.

Leaning back on her heels while Henry gripped her hips, Charlotte kept her eyes on him, his expression nearly undoing her, with passion and need that mirrored her own. Bending slightly toward him, every thought fled as he bucked beneath her.

Waking later in his arms, Charlotte surveyed his chiseled face, awed at how serene he looked while sleeping. Carefully, she smoothed his hair back from his forehead, wondering how the man who performed such devilish acts on her body managed to look so angelic. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized it was after eleven in the morning. Their desserts had been forgotten in the car last night, their only focus on getting to his bedroom. Gently extricating herself from his arms, she snapped up his shirt and slipped on a pair of comfy shorts she had brought with her a couple of nights ago. Sliding her feet into her flip-flops, Charlotte padded out of the room after a last wistful glance at his sleeping form. Bouncing down the stairs, she went straight for his refrigerator to see what he had inside, inspired to make Henry a hearty breakfast. Although this was the first time Charlotte could put Henry’s kitchen to use, wanting to cook for Henry had been at the top of her mind all week, but they’d each been busy. The night before last, she had a staff meeting that ran until late in the evening, so they had met up at Betsy’s diner for malts, then walked around the pond in the town square before making their way back to his house on foot. The night before that, they’d gone to Steiner Cinema to see a campy musical version of The Big Lebowski called When the Dude Abides, and both of them had laughed until they each had tears streaming from their eyes. Humming, she extricated eggs, sausage, and milk from the fridge.

Upstairs, Henry rolled over to find the other side of the bed disappointingly empty and unappealingly cold. Wondering where Charlotte had gone, he was ready to swing his legs from under the covers when a voice rose from the ground level. Smiling, he listened as she sang along to Reba. Was that bacon he smelled? And sausage? If not for his open eyes, he would believe he must be dreaming until a buzz from the bedside table made him reach for his phone, turning everything into a nightmare. Not now, he thought with a grimace, regretting his decision to unblock his ex. He’d only done so to stop the strange phone calls to the shop from continuing, most of which came in well before the shop was open, as if the caller somehow knew Henry would be the only one there to answer the phone. Except for a sharp intake of breath when he picked up the call, followed by a few seconds of light breathing, the person on the other end remained silent until they hung up. At first, he’d demanded Melanie to say something, but after a few calls, he stopped, uninterested in playing her games. Hoping she would stop pestering him on his work phone, he had unblocked her on his cell yesterday. Now she texted:

Well, well, well. Look who misses me.

I won’t pretend I wasn’t hurt when you blocked me. Now that you’ve changed it, I assume you’re ready to communicate with me?

Henry, please, I’ll explain everything. Call me?

The three texts she’d sent minutes apart. And then:

Please, Henry, I know I pushed too much

I promise I’m not playing games.

We need to talk, ASAP.

Running his hands over his face, he knew the last thing he wanted was Melanie ruining his time with Charlotte, so he deleted the messages. Reaching back to the table to disconnect his phone from the charger, Henry looked down at his chest at the red marks Charlotte had scored with her nails. Tracing his fingers over them, he shivered as he replayed the image of her on his lap in the Tempest. She’d been insatiable, they both had, and if he tilted his head just so, he could still hear her gasping cries in his ear. Unfolding his tall frame from the bed, Henry grabbed a pair of shorts from his dresser and from the chair next to the mirror, the ancient Rolling Stones T-shirt Charlotte had worn a week ago, the first time they’d spent the night together. His body responded to the memory of her in the shirt, and her light sent still clung to the material.

Once he had brushed his teeth and combed his hair into some semblance of order, Henry made his way down the stairs, relishing the cool wood floor under his bare feet. A few years after moving into the house, he and Josh had torn up the carpet, exposing the beautiful hardwood underneath. That same winter, he, Josh, George, and all three nephews (Liam, Daniel, and Felix) spent weekends sanding and staining the old floorboards until they gleamed. His niece, Cait, had supervised with her keen eyes, pointing out when someone missed a spot.

Entering the kitchen to Charlotte belting out “Fancy” at the top of her lungs, he paused, drinking in the sight of her keeping beat with her luscious hips wiggling. She stood at the stove, wielding a pair of tongs in shorts that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, and Henry was ready to lift her over his shoulder and carry her back upstairs. On second thought, the living room was closer, and the sofa was comfortable enough. Plenty of spring in it. Heaven help him, she still wore his shirt from last night. Closing the distance between them, he put his hands on her ribs, delighting as she breathed in deeply.

“Mmm, I like this.” She tilted her head back against his chest. She dropped the tongs she’d been using and raised her arms behind her to cup his head close to her neck.

“Mmm,” he responded, “not as much as I do.” The top snaps were open, exposing her cleavage, and his view was incredible. Braless under his shirt meant breakfast would have to wait. Bending, he touched his lips to the side of her neck when his watch rang with an incoming call. Glancing at it, he dismissed it, then raised the hem of her shirt. His watch annoyingly rang again. “Charlotte, I’m sorry. I need to return this.” Turning her around, he cradled her face to kiss her gently.

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s nothing,” he assured her, eager to be rid of Melanie. “I left my phone upstairs, so I’m just going to run up there. Don’t worry.” His finger stroked her cheek. “It’s just some issue I’ve been having with a difficult customer.” A little white lie seemed innocuous, because the last thing he wanted was Charlotte believing that his ex-wife had some kind of hold over him. After everything that had gone on last year with DD, he didn’t want their budding relationship dragged into whatever mess Melanie was looking to create. Kissing her again, Henry stared into her luminous eyes. “I can’t wait to have breakfast with you.” He softly kissed her knuckles. “I need you to know how honored I am, how lucky I feel, that you’re here with me.”

Keeping her tears at bay, Charlotte said, “I feel the same, Henry. No one has made me feel the way you do.” She could smell that the bacon was almost done in the oven, so she made her voice light. “Now go and take care of business so we can eat!”

After one last, deep kiss, Henry trotted up the stairs, feeling somewhat deceitful. Normally, he wasn’t a man who engaged in lies and half-truths, unless it came to his ex. As soon as he was off the phone with her, he planned on explaining everything to Charlotte.

Downstairs, Charlotte removed both the bacon and the breakfast casserole from the oven. Henry’s fridge and pantry had all the ingredients, and the recipe was abundant, ensuring that he would have enough to eat over the next few days. Pouring herself another cup of toffee crunch coffee, with a heavy splash of cream, she startled when she heard his voice upstairs, almost as if he was shouting. He grew quieter, and she opened the newspaper, intending to start the crossword puzzle, his doorbell rang. “Henry,” she called, torn between ignoring or answering the door. The bell rang again, so instead of bothering Henry, she walked over to it.

Upon opening the door, a wave of heat blasted her from outside, and she was surprised to see who stood on the porch. “Hi.”

“Why are you answering Henry’s door?”

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Josh announced to Effie. “And I have to admit that you were right.” His future wife was in their backyard, picking tomatoes from her garden. Last spring, Effie had spent hours planting tomatoes, green beans, cabbage, potatoes, peppers, carrots, radishes, cucumbers, zucchini, squash, onions, garlic, basil, parsley, and strawberries. Now that her small crops were ready for harvest, Effie was pondering enlarging the garden next year so she could preserve her produce by either canning or freezing it.

“Well, you know I’m always thrilled when someone admits I’m right about something.” Effie grinned, wiping her wrist across one of her arched, black eyebrows. “But I’m almost scared to ask what the bad news is.” She straightened and sauntered his way.

Even covered in dirt, his body reacted to her, breathtakingly gorgeous, with shining raven-black hair pulled into two braids and a pair of ridiculously large sunglasses protecting her exotic amber eyes. The halter top she wore exposed much of her silky back, tempting Josh to untie the strings and stroke her smooth skin. “You put some sunscreen on, right? Even with your darker pigment, the risk of skin cancer is⁠—”

Effie interrupted, “Do you know how sexy you are,” wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “when you lecture me about the importance of SPF?” Quaking as her teeth captured his earlobe, he held his breath when her hands slid under his polo shirt.

“It’s my duty as a doctor and your husband—” he managed, just before one of her slim hands travelled down to the front of his khaki shorts.

“Uh uh,” she whispered into his ear, “not my husband yet. Still just my hot fiancé.” Slanting her mouth against his, her tongue licked the seam of his lips, and Josh forgot both the good and the bad news he had been about to tell her. Tall trees and a wooden fence surrounding the perimeter of the backyard secluded the couple for every single outdoor activity Effie loved, and she drew Josh into a shaded area of their patio, replete with a padded lounger big enough for the both of them. Extending her endlessly long legs, Effie reclined, and a small patch of sunlight fell on the strip of her stomach exposed between her top and her shorts. His thumb traced a line of sweat between her breasts.

“I think we can do better than this.” Grinning, he reached behind her back, untied her top, and stretched out beside the most tantalizing woman known to man. Hooking both thumbs into the elastic waistband of her shorts, he gave a small tug, dropping them next to their lounger.

“You know, I’ve always thought you had the very best bedside manner.” With her knees parting to accommodate his hips, Josh tasted her flesh, sweet and salty, the true essence of Effie. “Josh,” she panted, and her fingers were in his hair, tugging at his blond head.

Josh had been engaged before; had, in fact, almost gotten married three years ago, and every day he sent a mental thank you to Tess for falling in love with his best friend, Sam. If they hadn’t met on that train, Josh would never have discovered everlasting love. What he had with Effie outshone anything he could imagine experiencing with anyone else. And as this unbelievable woman writhed under his every touch, he knew she would be the only woman for him for the rest of his life.

“I love you.” Her golden-brown eyes mirrored the emotion in his own blue eyes. Caressing her face with the back of his hand, he inquired, “Tell me again why we aren’t already married?” His surgeon’s fingers deftly retied her top, and he easily slipped her shorts back up over her long brown legs before pulling his own on.

Effie laughed in the carefree manner she had, brushing back hair from his forehead. “Babe, if we were already married, I wouldn’t get to call you my hot fiancé.” She tracked her lips across his chest. “But I seriously can’t wait until you are my very desirable and seriously studly husband.”

“Studly? Is that even a word?”

She answered as she draped her body over him. “When I’m describing you, it is most definitely. You are so handsome.” She kissed his jaw. “I can’t believe you’ll be mine forever.” Her hands stroked his chest. “Hey, where did you disappear to this morning? And what was I right about?”

“Oh, yeah, what I was about to tell you before you seduced me.” He laughed when she nipped his neck, then moaned when she licked it. “Do you want me to finish my story, or should we just take this inside?”

“No,” she curled up in his arms, “please tell me the news!”

“Well, I ran over to Dad’s house to see if he wanted to get breakfast before I took the car to the shop, since he never really answered about it last night.” Early Saturday morning breakfasts had been their thing after Josh moved into Effie’s house, which was, conveniently for him, located right around the block from his dad’s. When Effie bought the house, she and Josh weren’t a couple; in fact, they hadn’t even been dating. Josh still had one foot firmly in New York City then, with plans to return once his surgical leave was complete. When his fiancée had moved in here, she had no way of knowing that she would one day be living so close to her future father-in-law, but that was just another link in their chain of fate. “And you were right about Dad and Charlotte. She was just getting ready to leave when I got there.”

Effie interjected with an ear-deafening squeal, screaming, “God, I knew it! I’ve said all week that I thought they were spending their nights together! Those two practically devoured each other at dinner last night. I’m shocked they made it out of the restaurant without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“I wouldn’t know, because I only had eyes for you. But can we please remember this is my dad you’re talking about?”

“I knew they were perfect for each other,” Effie sighed. “But please tell me you didn’t interrupt them.”

“No, no, they were fully clothed. Thank god.”

“Okay, then tell me more,” Effie demanded.

His hand caressed her smooth back. “She made my dad breakfast.”

“Oh, how romantic! Henry loves breakfast.” Josh nodded. “What’d she make?”

“Breakfast casserole.”

“Ooh, I love that stuff!”

“I know you do. I almost called you over, but thought that might be weird. It was really sweet because she had made up containers of leftovers for my dad⁠—”

“And you ate some.” Josh nodded again. “I know my fiancé. You’re so sexy when you’re hungry,” Effie moved her hand to his waistband. “So, what were he and Charlotte like this morning?”

“Happy. Giddy, practically. After Charlotte left, though, he got tense…god, this sucks.”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, he told me my mom called him this morning-”

“When Charlotte was there?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t know. He told her it was a customer from the shop.”

“I thought he blocked her ages ago?”

“He did, but apparently, she started calling the shop and then hanging up, so he unblocked her on his cell so she’d stop annoying him at work, and boom, she immediately restarted her cycle of emotional abuse: texting him, saying she wants to meet up with him, but won’t tell him why.” Josh spoke rapidly, irritated with his mom.

“Oh, no. Do you think it’s about the wedding? Do you think she knows?”

Josh had agonized over inviting his mom to their wedding. Would he regret not having her there? For years, he’s assumed she’d walked away without a backward glance, but after he’d first come home to South Dakota, he’d learned that she had been keeping tabs on him through his grandpa, so obviously, she cared about him or at least hadn’t forgotten about him. “I don’t see how, since Grandpa swears he hasn’t said anything.” Josh inhaled deeply, knowing this next part would be troubling. “But Dad told me that Charlotte doesn’t know about Mom contacting him. In fact, she assumes that he hasn’t spoken to Mom, I think, since she left.”

“Oh, no—that’s so not good, Josh! They can’t start a relationship with him hiding this from her! Remember how upset I was when I found out about your secrets? This is the same thing,” Effie declared. Josh flinched, but she was right. Two years ago, after first encountering Effie, he’d been working as a mechanic in his dad’s shop. Keeping two truths from her: that he was a surgeon and that he lived in New York City, had almost come between them. “I can’t believe Henry isn’t being honest! That’s so unlike him.”

“Except for when we moved to Beverley, and he let everyone believe he was a widower.”

Effie nudged his arm. “Joshua Livingston, you know why he did that! He was trying to help you!”

Laughing, Josh shook his head. The way Effie loved his dad was one of his favorite things about her. “Settle down, mama bear. Before we solve part one of the bad news, I need to give you part two. So while Dad was upstairs talking to my mom on the phone, with Charlotte cooking breakfast in the kitchen, your mom showed up at his house. And Charlotte answered the door.”

Effie sat up. “Oh, hell no!”

“Yep, he’s right.” In unison, Josh and Effie turned to Hamilton, who was peeking out from the sliding glass doors.

“What the hell, Ham? Ever hear of ringing a doorbell?” Effie chastised her younger brother.

“For your information, I did, but no one answered, so I figured you two were…indisposed. But I’m glad to see you’re both wearing clothes, unlike last time. You guys really need to learn how to lock your front door.”

“And you need to learn how to call first, not just pop in.” Effie shouldered past her brother on her way into the house. Josh followed, closing the door behind him and nodded in greeting to his future brother-in-law.

Hamilton opened a bottle of orange juice, drinking it straight from the container, then flinched when Effie hit him on the shoulder. Hamilton flinched. “Ow, what was that for?”

“You’re gross. Use a glass!” Effie slammed one down in front of him. “Did you know Mom was in Beverley this morning? I haven’t heard from her in a week.”

“You mean she didn’t tell you?” Hamilton rubbed his flat stomach. “Hey, Sis, where are those waffles you made last week? I’m starving.” Josh could never imagine what it was like to have the good looks of someone like Effie’s brother and figured himself to be a six on a scale of ten, but whenever he said as much to Effie, she assured him he was a twenty. The discussion usually ended with the two of them having sex.

“They’re in the freezer…here, let me look,” she insisted, elbowing her brother aside, finding the frozen waffles in a matter of seconds. “I’ll heat these up for you, but please tell me what’s going on.”

Sighing, Hamilton slumped into a chair. “Dad saw the cardiologist the other day in Sioux Falls. He needs a pacemaker.”

Considering the silent heart attacks Burnside Van Holland had experienced, Josh was afraid this would happen and had counseled Diadema about it earlier in the summer. To Effie and her brother, he said, “This is normal, and a positive for your dad.”

“Bro, I get it!” Hamilton shrugged. “Try telling that to Mom, though, when she’s having one of her freak-outs. Like, put the booze down first, Diadema, and then everything can register.”

“Ham, you didn’t tell me she was drinking again,” Effie said. “I thought she was doing better.”

Hamilton raised his perfectly manicured eyebrows. “Maybe when you’re around, because she knows you’re going to give her shit about it. You know I can’t talk to her about any of that.” When Josh and Effie had first begun dating two years ago, Hamilton had been living at home with his parents with no direction for his future. Though he had matured after getting his own apartment and enrolling in Beverley Community College, he was still eager to take a back seat and let his older sister drive when it came to confronting their mother.

“This is not good, not with our wedding coming up.” Effie shook her head at Josh. “And not with your dad dating Charlotte.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about Charlotte,” Hamilton stated. “I was at Mom and Dad’s the other day when Nora stopped by, and they were talking about Cait setting Henry and Charlotte up at the street dance. Mom made a big production saying she wasn’t sure Charlotte was right for Henry, and that he was going to get his heart broken. I mean, tell me why Mom cares?”

“She doesn’t! This is just Mom focusing on something else so she doesn’t have to think about your dad. Or herself. She’s scared, and I blame myself. I’ve been so wrapped up in the wedding and writing my book and working at the library, and probably a million other things, that I don’t make it over to Clover Lake as often as I should.”

“Hey.” Josh crossed over to where Effie stood at the counter, putting the waffles she’d warmed up on a plate for her brother. “Whatever is going on with your mom isn’t your fault.”

“Josh is right, Sis. Our mom needs to get a grip and deal with everything. If you’re worried about her interfering between Charlotte and Henry, don’t. I also heard Nora telling Mom how Henry is, like, half in love already,” Hamilton poured what remained of their precious supply of Vermont maple syrup on his waffles. “Hey, bro, I meant to ask if you got any more of those phone calls at the hospital?”

Effie’s dark brows pulled together in a frown. “Phone calls? What’s he talking about, Josh?”

Tossing a glare at his future brother-in-law, Josh answered, “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, and I asked your brother not to say anything.”

Effie looked between Hamilton and Josh, suspicion clouding her golden eyes. “Okay, but say anything about what?”

“Sorry, man.” Hamilton flashed Josh a smile. “I’ve just been watching all these classic episodes of Unsolved Mysteries online. Those calls were kind of freaky⁠—”

“Will someone please tell me what you two are talking about!” Effie demanded, hands on her hips.

“Last week, Ham came to the hospital for lunch, and when we were in the cafeteria, I got paged. Someone called me, but when I picked up the call, no one was there.”

“The creepy thing is, Josh told me it’s happened before!”

“Would you please shut up!” Why couldn’t his future brother-in-law read the room? The last thing he needed was to upset Effie, who had enough on her plate with her mother’s issues.

Effie was far more rational than her brother, however, and asked, “Do you think it’s your mom? Could she be calling the hospital like she calls your dad’s shop?”

“Bro, you didn’t tell me Henry’s been getting calls, too,” Hamilton said. “This is way suspicious.”

Effie rounded the table to sit in Josh’s lap. “Should we be worried, babe?” Her fingers tugged his earlobe.

“No, but…”

“But what?” Effie’s black eyebrows drew together in a frown.

“I doubt it’s my mom calling me. The receptionist at the hospital said whoever called sounded like a young woman. Probably family of a patient I’ve had. As for my dad’s calls, I don’t know that he’s actually heard the voice, and the guys there wouldn’t be helpful in a police lineup of voices. It’s probably all a coincidence.”

“Okay. As long as you’re sure?” Josh nodded reassuringly at Effie, kissing the fingertips of her free hand.

“I don’t know, I say it sounds freaky as hell.” Hamilton finished the rest of the orange juice and opened a fresh bottle.

“Time for you to go, Ham,” Josh directed.

“What? I thought we were gonna shoot some hoops?”

“Nope, not anymore.” Josh stood, swooping Effie up in his arms as she squealed in delight. Heading to the stairs, he said, “We have official wedding stuff to take care of. You really might want to leave now.” Not really caring what Effie’s brother did, Josh swiftly climbed the stairs with Effie in his arms. As her teeth sank into his neck, he kicked their bedroom door shut behind him.

Over a month had passed since Charlotte had first woken up in Henry’s arms, and she was clearly in her sexual fulfillment era, trembling as Henry’s beard-stubbled face made its way up her legs. Starting with her ankles, his mouth feathered the backs of her calves with kisses, until his beard scraped between her thighs, where he swirled his tongue, making her hips rock. She wailed, “Henry,” and tugged at his head. He rose to his knees, lifting her to meet him. Delirious, Charlotte scraped his back as his lean arms braced his body above hers.

After he collapsed next to her, he laid his head on her stomach; she smoothed damp strands of hair from his forehead. “What time are the guys getting here?” Today was the wedding, and Josh was coming to Henry’s house to get ready, since Effie and her entourage were gathering over at the house Effie and Josh shared. The ceremony was later in the afternoon at the city park, but Charlotte was going over there this morning to help some of the family set up for the wedding.

With a groan, Henry squinted up at Charlotte, making him look more like his son’s age than a man pushing sixty. “What time is it now?” Even his scratchy morning voice was unbelievably arousing.

Charlotte giggled. “It’s almost eight.” Henry had woken her early this morning, slipping his hands under her pajama top, while sucking gently on her neck. She luxuriated in his attention and the multitude of ways he showed her how important she was to him, like last night at the wedding rehearsal, when he treated her like a member of his family and not just his date. With her parents gone and her daughter a state away, she was grateful to be part of the boundless love of the Livingston family. Dinner followed the rehearsal, with food trucks lining the shores of Lake Shelley in the city park. By the time Henry and Charlotte had made it home, it was almost midnight. The one drawback to the evening was Diadema, whose frown and piercing gaze made her annoyance that Charlotte and Henry were a couple perfectly clear, and Charlotte couldn’t help but return a few of her own disapproving glances.

In her defense, every time Charlotte looked at the woman, she couldn’t help but recall the morning when Diadema had arrived, uninvited, at Henry’s house, shocked to find another woman answering his door, visibly bristling at the sight of Charlotte wearing Henry’s shirt. Attempting modesty, Charlotte had pulled the collar tightly together, too aware that she had not yet put on her bra. Diadema’s judgmental eyes had traveled from her chest down to Charlotte’s bare legs, reddened by Henry’s facial scruff. The length of his shirt covered the shorts she wore, making it appear, Charlotte knew, as if she had no pants on. With a last, contemptuous glance at toes painted a bright blue, Diadema looked past Charlotte into Henry’s living room. “I would like to speak with Henry,” she demanded, her wide mouth pulled into a frown.

Charlotte, refusing to be dismissed, responded, “Well Diadema, it’s nice to see you again.” She waited for her to return the greeting, and when none came, she asked, “What brings you by so early?”

“I checked for Henry at the shop and since he wasn’t there, I came over here. It’s almost ten.”

Charlotte explained, “He’s not working today.”

“So I was told, which is why I’m here now. I really need to speak with him.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but he’s upstairs.” The petty side of Charlotte hoped the other woman would think that meant he was still in bed, obviously completely exhausted after spending the night with her in it. “Can I take a message?” She would be damned if she would step aside and let Diadema manipulate her way into Henry’s house.

“I would rather speak to him in person, if you don’t mind. There are things going on he needs to know about.” Diadema kept her eyes trained to the inside of the house, refusing to look at Charlotte.

Beneath her icy exterior, for the briefest moment, Charlotte glimpsed a crack in the other woman’s facade and softened her tone. “Diadema…DD…you should probably just go home. Or go to your daughter’s.”

At that moment, Henry bounced down the stairs. “God, it smells so good in here. What do you say we take breakfast upstairs?” He stopped in his tracks.

Stepping back so Henry could stand in the doorway, she dipped her head in relief when his mouth grazed her forehead with a tender kiss. “What are you doing here, DD?” Charlotte noted the exasperation in his voice.

Diadema’s bottom lip quivered as she said, “It’s Burnside; Henry, we’ve just received some terrible news.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, and I hope he’ll be okay, but you need to go and see your daughter. I can’t help you.”

“I don’t want to worry Euphemie, not when it’s so close to the wedding. I need a friend…I need you.” Diadema sniffed into a tissue.

“I’m sorry, but we talked about this.” Henry’s tone was gentle but firm. “Call Nora. Go see Hamilton. Talk to Effie.”

Charlotte stepped out of sight from the doorway, believing Diadema would leave more easily if she didn’t see her. “Henry,” Charlotte heard her begin, “I just wanted⁠—”

“I understand, DD, but you’ll be alright,” he assured her. “Go see your daughter.” Henry softly closed the door.

Diadema’s appearance that day had not affected the budding relationship between Henry and Charlotte, who hadn’t spent a night apart since their first date. But she couldn’t deny the queasy sensation when she thought about the other woman.

Caressing the bunched muscles in his back, she hesitated before she said, “Henry, do you think Diadema is going to be okay today? I didn’t say anything last night, but every time I tried to talk to her, she walked away.” Henry lifted himself up on his elbow and tucked a curl behind her ear, concern making him frown. Trying to downplay it, she assured him, “It was nothing, really, but I just want everything to be perfect for Effie and Josh, and if I⁠—”

“I hope you’re not about to bail on being my date for the wedding.” Her heart swelled as his calloused hands cupped her cheeks. “Aside from the bride, you’ll be the most beautiful woman there, and I intend to dance every dance I can with you tonight. Don’t worry about today. I’m sure DD will be on her best behavior, or face the wrath of Effie. Or Nora. Or Trixie.”

“I can understand if Diadema is struggling. Effie mentioned last night that it might be difficult today, thinking about her dad and wishing he could be there. I can only imagine her mother feels the same.”

“You’re so compassionate.” Henry’s mouth brushed across hers. “Especially considering she hasn’t done much to deserve it, where you’re concerned.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. I haven’t lost a great love, like Diadema did, but the death of my parents was crushing. It still is.” Fingernails drifting up and down his bicep, she reflected, “I was lucky, though, to have my parents there when I married Brady. I can’t imagine how Josh is feeling today, without his mom there. I mean, she has this amazing son here with no idea of the kind of man he’s become.” Tears filled her eyes at the losses both Effie and Josh had faced in their young lives.

Henry’s blue gaze stared down at her, solemn, as his hand rested on her belly. “I have to tell you something.”

Charlotte braced herself for whatever was to come. “What?”

He paused briefly, then said, “She does know. A little bit. Melanie. She used to call me, after Josh came back two years ago.”

“Okay.” When he didn’t continue, she wondered why he was bringing it up now.

Then he rushed on: “The thing is, she used to call my dad occasionally throughout the years, which I wasn’t aware of. When she found out that Josh had left New York City and was living here, that’s when I discovered she had been in touch with my dad, because she called me, hysterical, lecturing me, paranoid Josh was going to give up being a surgeon.”

“Instead, he found something more fulfilling—someone to share the life he was building. While still being a surgeon in South Dakota.”

“It’s obvious to you and me, but Melanie believed he was settling, that he’s less here.”

“So when did she finally stop calling you?”

“I blocked her.” His body tensed beside her before he rolled over and sat up.

“Henry? Is something wrong?” With his back to her, she couldn’t see his face, so she got to her knees, pressing her chest against him, sliding her hands down his chest. One of her biggest turn-ons about him was his chest, so strong but not beefy, and the silky hairs sprinkled liberally over it.

“No, sorry. I should probably shower,” Henry kissed her gently on her cheek. “I need to run to the bakery for those muffins Josh likes. Mom is sending some breakfast burritos with Dad, and my nephew Daniel is making some kind of fancy biscuits and gravy.” Henry shrugged with a smile. “Something he serves at his restaurant in Chicago. It’s been a while since he’s been home, so I’m excited to see him.”

“Yes, Trixie was beaming last night, having both of her sons in one place.” She feathered kisses over his shoulders, teasing him, “I’d better get going, then. I know how much you love biscuits and gravy.”

“Not as much as I love…” Her heart pounded, waiting to hear what he said next. Was she ready for a declaration of love? “…seeing you in the morning,” Henry continued. Charlotte let out the breath she’d been holding, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed, “with your hair spread across the sheets.” His upper body twisted to face hers. “I love your laugh when I say something no one else would find funny.” His thumbs brushed her cheeks. “I love the way your eyes light up when you see me.” His mouth grazed hers. “I love the way you smile when we’re reading in bed and you finish a book.” She lay back on the bed, naked, with his eyes on her. “I love the way you smell, first thing in the morning.” He settled between her thighs. “And I love how soft you are, everywhere, especially here.” She shuddered when he filled his hands with her. “Damn, Charlotte, you are the sexiest woman alive, in every single way.”

She flipped them so she was on top, and she gripped the headboard, her mouth tightly closed as she held in a scream, before crumpling down on top of Henry. Would it be in poor taste for the two of them to simply show up to the wedding right before the ceremony started? Unable to help herself, she mouthed into his chest, “I love you.”

Stroking her shoulders, he told her, “Okay, for real this time, I’m going to shower.” Naked, he ambled across the room to the bathroom. Just as she picked up the newest Tana French novel on his bedside table, Henry’s phone rang. Thinking it could be Josh, she turned it over, ready to get out of bed to take it to him, when she read “Melanie” on the screen.

“What in the world?” Why was Henry’s ex-wife calling him? Had she somehow heard about Josh’s wedding, despite Henry’s assumption she hadn’t? But how was her call coming through if he’d blocked her? Maybe she was tech-savvy and had found a way around it, unbeknownst to Henry. Deciding it wasn’t her business, she placed the phone back on the table facedown, but couldn’t stop thinking about Melanie, who, to her chagrin, Charlotte had more in common with than she would’ve preferred. Both married at eighteen, Melanie to a boy she had only known a couple of months, and Charlotte to the only boy she’d ever dated. Both of them pregnant, or at least Melanie had thought she was. Both of them forced to put aside their dreams in deference to their husbands. Charlotte knew how overwhelming the feeling was of having choices taken from you, no matter how happy you eventually ended up being in your life. Part of her felt for Melanie, having to start her life over in a new place, with no one to confide in, really. Charlotte had done it, yes, but willingly, and as a mature adult, and there had been days after she had moved to Beverley when she’d experienced incredible loneliness. How had Melanie felt, at just eighteen, in a place so foreign to her? Trixie and Nora insinuated Melanie grew more content with her life in South Dakota after the birth of Josh, and it sounded like she’d been a doting stay-at-home mother, that it wasn’t until Diadema had come home to Clover Lake as a grieving widow that there was a noticeable shift downward in Melanie’s demeanor. Based on Charlotte’s own interactions with Diadema, she could imagine the havoc that played in Melanie’s mind, making her suspicious and insecure and unable to get reassurance from anyone. None of it excused her from abandoning her child, though.

In the shower, Henry sang an Eagles song, and she smiled, tempted to join him in the shower when her own phone buzzed. Ruth, asking if she could pick up doughnuts on her way to the park.

Wearing only a towel, a glistening Henry exited the bathroom. “I thought you’d join me in there,” he said, bending down to kiss her.

“I would have, but Ruth texted, reminding me that I said I’d bring breakfast.” She stood up to pull on a pair of shorts and couldn’t resist slicking her hand across his chest, the hair there damp and ultra-soft. “Why do you make me want you so much, Henry?” His reaction to her touch made her chuckle, and she ducked out of his embrace before his towel came off. “None of that until after the wedding festivities.”

“Temptress,” he laughed, grabbing her from behind and kissing her neck. “Have you seen my phone? I thought I took it into the bathroom, but it wasn’t there. I need to call Josh to see if he’s at my house yet.”

“It’s on the nightstand.” While she was putting her earrings in, she said as casually as she could, “You got a call when you were in the shower.” Wincing at her own false suggestion, she studied him in the mirror as he frowned, looking at his phone. No, not a frown, she amended as he raised his head. Anger. She hastily averted her gaze. “Was that Josh?”

He cleared his throat. “No. Wrong number, I guess.” A heavy silence sat in the bedroom; their buoyant mood gone. Charlotte gathered her hair into a high bun, worrying about how to break the tension, when Henry’s arms embraced her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She spun in his arms, wishing he’d tell her about Melanie calling him.

“I guess I’m a little nervous about today. I just want everything to be perfect for Josh, after everything he’s been through the last two years.”

“Are you…are you worried his mom might try to reach out in some way?”

“The thing about Melanie is that she has a way of twisting things…making herself out to be the victim. That’s why I blocked her—I couldn’t take anymore. And now, I definitely don’t want to hear from her at all. Not when…” he drifted off.

Heart pounding again, she asked, “Not when what?”

“Not when I have trouble remembering the last time I was this happy. No one, except my son, has ever made me happier. You light up every one of my days,” he said, touching her lips with his thumbs, “and at night, you dance in my dreams, even when we’re together. You make me feel things I never thought possible.” His mouth descended onto hers, minty from toothpaste. “When do you have to be at the park?” His hands slid under her shirt.

“Not for at least fifteen minutes,” she moaned.

“I can make that happen,” he promised, his towel drifting to the floor.

After wiping tears from her eyes, Cait hugged Josh and Effie, whose wedding had been picture-perfect. Certainly, her cousin and his new bride could convince even the most jaded soul that true love existed. Not her, of course. Love wasn’t in her future. She waved to her aunt Beatrice, who stood next to Charlotte at the end of the row of chairs. Her aunt must have said something funny, because the other woman tipped her head back and laughed, all while never taking her eyes from her uncle Henry. Henry faced Cait, and instead of the grin he’d worn all day, his mouth curved down into a frown. She wondered what was wrong, and then saw he was on his phone. Worried, she started toward him, but as she drew near, his harsh tone halted her. “I told you not to call me anymore. It’s not my problem you were not invited.” Who the hell was he talking to? Who wasn’t invited? His voice heavy, Henry said, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have left him.” Cait’s jaw dropped. Was Josh’s mom on the phone? Her uncle shook his head, swiped at his phone screen, and turned to speak to a woman around Cait’s age. A stranger, Cait had noticed her arrival at the wedding, on the arm of a dark-haired man who’d been impossible to miss. Not only was he dressed like a lumberjack, but his physique suggested he was someone with the capability of actually throwing logs around all day.

“Hey,” Ruth said, rounding the corner of the gazebo. “What’s up?”

“Do you know who Uncle Henry is talking to?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s Lana. I haven’t met her yet officially, but Tess pointed her out to me.” That was Lana? Cait thought scornfully. Figured. No wonder her brother had been a babbling mess for the past two years. Blessed with not only wavy, honey-blonde hair, “Lana” wore a vintage-style sapphire-blue dress that hugged every ridiculous curve. Curves that Cait had never had the fortune of developing. Average described Cait’s body. Well, average pretty much described everything about Cait. The hair of her brother’s dream woman cascaded down her back, in a way she was sure drove him mad, and Cait could see her eyes were a rare shade of dark blue. “Stunning, isn’t she? No wonder your brother tied himself up in knots over her. She’s also a genius, according to Tess.” Of course, she was. Why stop at being beautiful when she could also be brainy? “Do you know she graduated college when she was something like nineteen? And she was done with med school by the time she was⁠—”

“No offense, but I’m not interested in her right now.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ruth sniffed. “You were the one who asked me who she was.”

“What I need to know now, Ruth,” Cait said with exaggerated calm, “is if you know where my brother is? I haven’t seen him since he brought the marriage certificate back from my car.” Which he wouldn’t have needed to do had Cait not forgotten it there, but she’d been too focused on making sure the wedding went off without a hitch. When she’d agreed to perform the ceremony, she hadn’t realized the job included being the ringmaster as well.

“Didn’t you see his pants when he came back? Had a big old grass stain on them because he slipped by your car, so he went home to change.”

“Well, it’s almost time for us to take pictures with Effie and Josh! How long does it take to change a pair of freaking pants?”

Ruth shrugged. “Pretty boy like that? Probably’ll take him at least half an hour, because you know it won’t just be the pants. Even though he’s gorgeous, I’m sure he’s making himself even prettier, which means he’ll spritz on more cologne, dab some product in his hair to make it do that thing where just part of it hangs down his forehead. Plus, with Lana here, you know he’ll want to look extra hot.” Lana, who’d brought a date to the wedding. No wonder her brother hadn’t returned yet. Probably nursing his broken heart.

“Who are you guys talking about?” Glancing to her left, she smiled at Ruth’s sister, Tess, who had announced to everyone last night that she and Sam were expecting twins later in the year. To say the woman was glowing would be an understatement.

“Tessie! We’re talking about Liam.”

“He’s not back yet from changing? Probably making himself extra hot for Lana.”

Ruth snapped her fingers. “That’s what I said!”

“Poor thing. She’s been a bundle of nerves since she got here. You know, when I first knew her, back when Josh and I were together, I never would’ve imagined her being Liam’s type. You know how obsessed Josh used to be about his career? Well, Lana was even worse. I don’t think she had much of a life outside of being a surgeon. But now that we’ve gotten close, I can say that they’re perfect for each other.”

Surprised, Cait asked, “What do you mean? How have you gotten close with her?”

Ruth answered for her sister, “She lives with Tess and Sam. Well, not with them. They are her landlords.”

Tess laughed, “Our house in Brooklyn has a separate apartment on the top floor. Lana has been renting it since last year.” Her expression became serious. “She’s devastated about what happened with Liam and came to work things out with him. Judging from the way I saw him staring at her during the wedding, no doubt that they’ll be back together by the end of the night,” Tess predicted.

“But what about her date?” Why were Tess and Ruth ignoring the fact that Lana had brought a date, knowing she would see Liam?

Tess shook her head. “Date? No, that’s her brother, Montgomery,” Tess corrected. “Not bad on the eyes, is he, Cait?” Whatever, Cait thought. She’d always preferred white-collar men, the kind who wore suits to work and stayed buttoned up all day.

“Oh, the photographer is hailing me. I wonder if they’re ready for more pictures.” Ruth strolled over to the gazebo.

“Cait, sweetie,” her mother called to her from the aisle of chairs. “Where is your brother?”

“I haven’t heard from him.” Why was it Liam could take his sweet time, but Cait ended up being responsible for him?

“Can you please call him? I want him here when it’s time for family photos.” Begrudgingly, she did as her mother asked. As usual.

Text to Liam

Are you on your way back yet?

Grumbling, she stomped across the park, nearly colliding with another strange woman she’d noticed at the wedding, only this one was younger than Cait. She seemed familiar in some way; maybe it was her hair, the color of sunshine, or her eyes, sky-blue, but when Cait asked her brother, he hadn’t known her either. “Can I help you?”

“No, I…I’m looking for Henry?”

“Uncle Henry?” Bewildered why the younger woman would be asking after Henry, a protective streak for her uncle flared. “Does he know you?”

“No, but I…I need to talk to him.”

Cait spotted him by the gazebo now, with his arms around Charlotte. “He’s over there, but can I—” she looked back to find the woman gone. Glancing back to the gazebo, she saw Lana talking to Tess and Sam. As she watched, Sam and Lana walked to the street, got into a vehicle, and drove off together. Well, that was strange. Where would Tess’s husband be driving with Liam’s mystery woman?

Cait got a text from the restaurant then, letting her know everything was on track for the reception to start as soon as the wedding party got there, so she forwarded it to her uncle. Still no word from her brother. Maybe Uncle Henry had seen him? No harm in asking.

Text to Henry

Everything looks good at the restaurant! Our family photos scheduled to start in 5 minutes.

Have you seen my brother?

Sighing in frustration, she texted Liam again as she made her way to her car.

Text to Liam

Where the hell are you?

She flung her car door open and tossed her phone into her bag, not expecting a response. Her phone hit a pack of cigarettes at the bottom. She hadn’t smoked one in two weeks, her longest streak yet, and she should throw them away, but keeping them nearby brought her comfort. Her phone pinged. Oh, god this wasn’t what she wanted, she thought.

Text from Boyd

Hey, angel face.

You never told me if I should meet you for the wedding dance?

Absolutely not. Puffing out her cheeks, she exhaled heartily. Boyd, another link in her chain of poor decisions. When she’d first returned to South Dakota, she had stayed with her grandma and grandpa in Clover Lake, where Boyd had relentlessly pursued her; he was hard to avoid, since he managed the town’s only grocery store. One night last year, while she was house-sitting, he asked her out. Flattered by his attention, they ended up dirty dancing in some seedy biker bar on the outskirts of Clover Lake. She’d been so lonely that his touch had been welcome. Very welcome. However, the next morning, when she’d woken up next to him, she’d felt only remorse. She had confided in Effie, who then relayed a story about her terrible date with Boyd, lecturing her on the necessity of keeping away from him. Effie had apparently been wiser and less desperate than Cait, because every now and then, when Cait couldn’t face another long night of emptiness, she turned to Boyd. Though he was attractive enough, he was no Prince Charming, too often an asshole, and had an ex-wife with a jealous streak.

Fuck it, she thought, pulling out the pack of smokes and tearing off the band at the top. Tapping one into her hand, she put it in her mouth as she searched her purse for a lighter, remembering with despair that she had thrown all of her lighters out right after buying the cigarettes. Idiot! But, wait! “Please be there, please be there, please be there,” she chanted, pulling open the back door of her car. Reaching under the seat, she slid her fingers around, only to be found wanting, except…what was this? An envelope under her seat?

With tears pricking her eyelids, she clutched it to her chest, unable to bring herself to open it, already knowing what it held. She couldn’t read it. Not again. Another shove put it back under the seat. The unwanted letter had gone missing the day of the street dance, and she’d been relieved, taking it as a sign that what was in the past should remain there, so she never looked for it. Now it was just trash in her car. Trash, which was how she felt after reading it.

Slumping down on the grass next to her car, probably in the same spot her brother had gotten his pants stained, she closed her eyes, afraid of the memories that surfaced whenever she allowed herself any peace. Holding her cigarette between two fingers, she whispered, “I’m so stupid.”

“Need a light?” The deepest voice she’d ever heard spoke behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn around. When she didn’t respond, a large hand with hairy knuckles held out an old-fashioned lighter, gold, with some kind of monogram embellished on it. The flame met the end of her cigarette after he flicked it, and she inhaled deeply, giving herself over to the nicotine, cursing her inability to stay clean. “Those things’ll kill you, ya know,” he lectured as she exhaled.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” she caustically replied, her head dropping back to rest on her car, not caring that she would undoubtedly look a mess, with her own stains on the back of her dress from sitting on the ground, and hair either flattened by her car or hiding chunks of mud from the side panel. After another puff, she said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I am trying to quit.”

“Yeah? Good for you. Me, I’ve never smoked,” he chuckled, the resonant sound shocking her.

“No? Then why are you carrying around such a fancy lighter?”

“Well, I think that’s a story for another day.” She kept her eyes shut, hoping her new friend would take the hint to leave, desperate for her solitude. Instead, he continued, “Not that it’s any of my business, but why are you sitting on the ground, over here by yourself?”

“You’re right—it’s none of your business, so why don’t you get the hell away from me? You’ve done your good deed for the day.” Dragging again on her cigarette, annoyed that she could hear him breathing above her, she finally opened her eyes, shocked to see the man in the flannel from the wedding. Lana’s brother. Montgomery. With his rugged, stocky build, he was the complete opposite of the men in her family. Up close, his blue eyes were so dark his pupils almost disappeared in the sunlight, and hair she’d thought dark brown was actually black, like a raven’s wing. His face lacked the lean grace her brother possessed, but the man was undeniably attractive. Flannel, though? Who the hell wore flannel to a wedding? For that matter, who the hell wore flannel in August, when temperatures routinely soared above eighty degrees. With what she suspected were powerful arms bulging beneath his shirt, Montgomery gave off serious blue-collar labor vibes, even if he wasn’t a true lumberjack. What the hell did she know, though? Black stubble lined his cheeks, making her wonder when he’d last shaved. Not that she cared, of course, for he was definitely not her type—too raw, too unrefined.

“Caitriona!” Oh hell, not her mom, she thought, throwing her partially smoked cigarette under her sandal to hide the evidence. One of her greatest fears was her mother discovering that she smoked…that she used to smoke, she amended. Not anymore, despite the smoke tendrils drifting up from her foot testifying otherwise. After starting in college, she’d kept her smoking a secret for years. Rarely coming home had made it easy to hide her nasty habit from her mom. Take the stereotypical Southern belle, but make her Midwestern; that was Nora Kinsale Livingston. Old money (for South Dakota), genteel manners (no swearing, ever), and immaculately put together at all times (no frizzy hair for her), Cait often felt like a watered-down version of her perfect mother.

Hastily rising, Cait stumbled over a slick spot in the grass, and a pair of hands clutched her elbows, murmuring, “Easy, princess.” An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, and the warm breath on her neck made her skin prickle.

Jerking away, she huffed, “I’m fine. Thanks for nothing for the light. If my mom finds out I’ve been smoking, it’s on you,” she snarled. After all, she’d told him she was trying to quit. Why had he enabled her?

“Caitriona, please,” her mother called from just inside the park. “We need you and your brother for pictures!”

Scurrying back into the park, to her annoyance, Montgomery was at her elbow. She stopped dead in her tracks. “Were you following me?”

To her consternation, he laughed. “Following you? What are you talking about?”

Frustrated, she grumbled. “When you showed up at my car—did you follow me there?”

Lumberjack’s wide mouth twitched, as if holding back a smile. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but this is a public park. I saw you at the wedding, and-” he began.

She glared at him. “Wow, your observational skills are commendable, aren’t they? I mean, you’d have to be blind not to have seen me, since I was in front of everyone, leading the entire thing.”

“Little surly, aren’t you, on a day that should be filled with goodwill and cheer?”

Cait gaped. Who the hell was this guy? “I didn’t ask for your company, so if I’m not perky enough for you, why don’t you leave me the hell alone?”

He held his hands out in surrender. “Listen, you’re right about one thing. I did see you leave the park. Someone said that you’re Liam’s sister, and since I’m looking for my sister, Lana, I thought you might know where he is. Or where they are. I presume they’re together, and I didn’t know who else to ask. Sorry, I should have introduced myself. Montgomery Miller.”

Ignoring him as pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Cait cursed, “Shit.” Glancing around, she saw Sam had returned, but still no sign of Liam. Or Lana. “DAMNIT!” Could Sam have taken Lana over to her brother’s house?

Montgomery asked, “What? What is it?”

“I think I know where they are,” she told him, running to her car.

He yelled, “I’m coming with you!”

“What? No, absolutely not.” If she found what she was pretty sure she was going to find at Liam’s, she was afraid her brother would be in big trouble. Even though Liam was taller than this burly mountain man, Montgomery looked like he wasn’t afraid of manual labor, something her brother avoided at all costs.

With his hand on the door of her hybrid, he said, “Your brother has some explaining to do about why he broke my sister’s heart. I didn’t come with her all the way from New York to see her get hurt again. My rental car is over there,” he pointed across the street, “so either I ride with you, or I follow you. Town this size, it shouldn’t be that hard to keep up.”

With a grunt, she said, “Fine,” and watched with satisfaction as he folded his brawny frame into her compact car.

“I’m surprised to find someone driving a hybrid in this part of the country,” he remarked, his comment making her bristle.

“Like New Yorkers are the only ones who care about the earth?”

“Do you automatically take offense at everything everyone says, or is it just me?”

“Look, my brother’s house is only a few blocks away. We don’t need to bond just because our siblings are star-crossed lovers.”

“Star-crossed lovers?” He snorted. “If your brother does anything to hurt my baby sister-”

“Like Liam was the one playing games in their relationship? Please—she’s done nothing but lead him on for the past two years-”

“You don’t know anything about my sister-”

“And you don’t know anything about my brother, but I’ve watched him turn into a zombie over her.” She slammed on her brakes, grinning as he flew forward, despite the seat belt, hitting his head on the window. “We’re here.”

She flew out of the car, up the front steps, and threw open Liam’s front door. Montgomery followed, too close for comfort. “I’ll give him credit for his taste in music,” he said, as Garth Brooks wailed out of the speakers Liam had installed throughout the house.

She flew up the stairs. “Liam! I swear to god, you had better be lying unconscious or I am going to kill you!” In the doorway to his bedroom, Cait’s eyes grew wide. Looking like the cat that ate the canary, there he was, in the center of his bed, with the sheet curling at his waist. Next to him, the bedspread completely covered a human-sized bundle. “What in the hell, Liam? This is so you, I swear. You are the best man, for the love of god, but no, here you are, on some afternoon delight, with, I’m assuming…Lana?” A honey-blonde head poked out. “I hope it is, or the real Lana is going to be pretty pissed when she finds out about this later from her bro-”

At Cait’s shoulder, Montgomery interrupted, “Christ, do you know how worried I’ve been? No word on where you went, you just disappeared from the wedding, leaving me⁠—”

“If everyone is done swearing and invoking the name of your lord and savior, can we please get some privacy?” Liam demanded, without the sense of urgency Cait felt was called for. “I had to come home and change my pants after getting the certificate out of your car, Cait,” he announced pointedly, as if she was responsible for him ending up in bed with Lana.

Montgomery responded drolly, “Sure, I can see how that made you end up in bed with my sister. Lana, this isn’t why you came here⁠—”

“Speak for yourself,” Lana answered, sheltered behind Liam’s back. “Monty, please leave this room immediately. I am fine, but I am certainly not going to get out of this bed with you standing there!”

Cait pointed out to her brother, “The least you could have done was stick around for the family photos, Liam. Mom is simply beside herself now, and she is threatening to Photoshop you into the family Christmas card this year.”

“Oh, my god—Mom will be fine! I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for another photo as soon as we get there, but you both NEED TO LEAVE!!!”

“Well, that was awkward,” Montgomery said. Just after Cait backed out of her brother’s room, the heel of her shoe caught on the top step, and Montgomery caught her again, for the second time that day. “Careful, princess.”

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp, hitting her elbow on the banister in the process. Limping slightly, she felt the heel of her shoe wobble. “Please stop calling me princess!” All she got was a soft chuckle in response, so she remained silent. How she was ever going to recover from the sight of her brother in bed with Lana, both clearly naked under the covers? The discovery would have been uncomfortable enough if she had been alone, but with this hulking man with her? At least he hadn’t threatened her brother with violence. Would he keep his mouth shut about everything? “Look, when we get back to the wedding, please don’t say anything about what just happened? My mom will not take it well.”

“If you think I want to spend another second thinking about your brother’s meat hooks on my sister, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Her phone dinged in the console between them, but she refused to look at it, not with him in the car. Her anxiety tempted her to smoke another cigarette once they got back to the park, but her mom was there waiting to accost her as soon as she got out. “Caitriona, did you find your brother?”

“Nope,” she answered, “sure didn’t.” Her mom shook her head, which Cait knew meant she was disappointed in her daughter, once again. Without another word, her mom walked toward the restaurant.

At her ear, Montgomery whispered, “Liar.”

“Get away from me, please.” The man had no sense of personal space.

“And who’s this Boyd who keeps texting you?”

Not now, she thought. “None of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to the reception.”

Because the man couldn’t take a hint, he followed her, but thankfully her cousin, Felix, rescued her once they reached the restaurant. “Hey, Montgomery, did you find your sister?”

“You two know each other?” Surprised, Cait looked from her cousin to the mountain man.

“We met briefly, right after Lana left,” Montgomery explained.

“I’m trying to convince him to come work on my team.” Felix, an architect, built low-income housing around South Dakota, concentrating mainly on reservations. “We’re just starting up a project on Rosebud, and I think Monty here would fit right in.”

“But…he doesn’t live here.” Although she truly didn’t care what this lumberjack did, the idea of him being anywhere in the state disconcerted her. And it shouldn’t.

Felix shrugged. “So? I floated the idea to him.”

“Ever heard of moving, princess?” Montgomery grabbed two glasses of champagne from a waiter passing by and handed one to Cait, raising one of his black eyebrows.

Felix plucked his own glass from the waiter’s tray. “I need a foreman I can trust, especially since we’ll be living on-site during the project.”

“And that’s…him?”

Felix grinned, “Isn’t this fortuitous?”

“That’s one word for it,” Cait dryly replied.

Text from Melanie

How could you hang up on me, Henry?

After the life we shared, and the love I thought we shared, I would think that my existence as the mother of your son would rate an invitation to the wedding.

I have apologized so many times that I have run out of ways to say I’m sorry. But I am, and I will be forever.

Haven’t you ever made a mistake? All I’m trying to do is be in his life.

Please.

Henry shook his head. On what should have been one of the happiest days of his life, the day of his only child’s wedding, his ex was bombarding him with angry, hurt texts. Although this mode of communication was preferable to the phone call he had mistakenly answered from her immediately following Josh and Effie’s ceremony.

“Henry? They’re looking for you to take pictures.” Charlotte placed her warm hand on his arm, and he drew her close, pressing his mouth to hers in a deep kiss. Hand in hand, they walked to the gazebo, where Josh and Effie stood across from the photographer, along with Diadema, Burnside, and Hamilton. Before he ascended the stairs, his mouth grazed Charlotte’s hand. He caught DD’s gaze on him before she quickly averted it.

The photographer said, “Okay, now how about one with just Dad and the happy couple?”

Posing with his son and his new daughter-in-law, Henry’s heart expanded seeing Josh not only so in love but also at ease, making him prouder today of his son than he ever recalled. After moving on from so many things that could have brought him down, Josh was truly happy with his life.

Josh suggested, “How about one with Charlotte in it?”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Charlotte’s cheeks flushed the color of a ripe peach.

“No, Josh is right. You belong up here,” Effie insisted.

“I don’t know.” She hesitated, looking up at Henry, who rushed down the stairs of the gazebo to wrap his arm around her.

“I think it’s a perfect idea,” he assured her, and his arm encircled her waist, keeping it there are the photographer took the photos.

“Now, both sets of parents.” Henry regretfully let go of Charlotte as the photographer took a drink from a stainless steel thermos, while DD and Burnside began walking up the steps.

“Sorry, but maybe I can sit this one out?” Burnside panted, his hand on his chest.

Effie asked, “Burnie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just a little winded. I guess the stairs are too much for me.” Burnside sat down in the front row of chairs. Hamilton jogged over to a cooler behind the gazebo, pulling out an icy bottle of water for his dad.

As the photographer called for more members of the bride’s extended family to be added to the photos, Effie’s Lakota family came forward, most of whom had dressed in brightly colored garments with intricate beading and traditional patterns. Henry hugged Aurora, Effie’s paternal grandmother, and shook the hand of her grandfather, Chaske, as he passed them on the stairs.

Charlotte smiled at Henry as he walked over to her, and her beauty awed him. “You look like you need a refreshment.” With a kiss on his cheek, she laced her fingers in his, leading him around the back of the gazebo to the cooler. Bending, she pulled out two bottles of Amstel Light, icy from being at the bottom of the cooler. “I hid these for us.”

“You know what I need more than this?” He took her beer from her and placed both bottles on top of the cooler.

“I have an idea, but I can’t wait for you to show me,” she responded with a throaty chuckle, fanning herself with a wedding program.

Henry pulled her to him, groaning as her lush form melted into his solid frame. “I don’t think I’ve told you enough today that, with the exception of my new daughter-in-law, you are the most exquisite woman here.” He mouth explored the underside of her jaw and then her neck, exposed to him thanks to the intricate braid she had wound her hair into that morning. Slowly stroking a path following her curves, his hands settled on her hips as her mouth opened under his. Charlotte’s fingers slid into his jacket, her nails scoring his back through his shirt.

“I would hope I don’t outshine the bride on her big day. You, on the other hand, are by far the sexiest man here.” Charlotte’s tone made sweat break out on his forehead that had nothing to do with the heat of the day. “Why don’t we run back to your house? I’m sure no one would miss us for half an hour.”

On the verge of agreeing with her, even if she wasn’t serious, his phone pinged in the pocket of his trousers, and he crashed back to reality. He didn’t want to look at it, let alone respond, but he worried that if it was Melanie again, left unanswered, she would escalate things, as she had earlier. “Sorry,” he said with a kiss to her forehead, “let me just see who this is in case it’s about the reception,” despising himself for misleading the most magnificent woman on the planet, but what else could he do? He’d tell her everything tonight, when they were lying in the afterglow of the mind-blowing sex.

Charlotte reached up and straightened his tie, smoothing down his jacket when she was done. “Why don’t I take these back to the seats with me?” She picked up their beer bottles. “I’m sure they will be ready for the Livingston family photos soon.” After one last deep kiss, Charlotte pulled back, rubbing her thumb over Henry’s mouth. “I want you to remember, later tonight, when you’re making your speech to the bride and groom, how I almost lured you away so I could have my hands all over you…how desperate I was for you.” Henry gaped at her as she rounded the gazebo, full hips swaying as she walked to the front. Taking a minute to himself, he leaned against the back of the gazebo and closed his eyes, willing his pulse to stop throbbing. As his breathing leveled, Henry looked at his phone, relieved to see it was Cait, texting that everything was good for the reception.

“Excuse me?” A young blonde woman, probably in her twenties, stood in front of him. He wondered who she was, then recalled having noticed her earlier that afternoon. “Yes? How can I help you?” Tall, with bright blue eyes a few inches below his, she was a stranger to him; and yet, for some inexplicable reason, a pit in Henry’s stomach expanded. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“You’re Henry Livingston, right?” He nodded, and the young woman held out a hand to him. “I’m Sophie.”

Perplexed, Henry looked down at her hand. Before he could respond, Ruth called to him from the gazebo, “Henry, please tell me you’ve seen Liam?”

“No, I’m sorry—not since the ceremony. Cait texted me, though, looking for him as well. Is something wrong?”

“It’s time for pictures with the wedding party, and no one has seen him since he went to change his pants,” Ruth explained. At his quizzical look, she added, “Don’t ask. Just know that he’s been gone way too long.” When he turned back to Sophie, he found she had disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

Cait arrived, mumbling about her brother’s lack of respect, timing, and family obligations, making George laugh; Nora, however, was not as amused as her husband. “Where do you think Liam is?” Charlotte whispered. “I heard Cait found him with Lana.”

Henry grinned, rubbing Charlotte’s back. “If that’s true, I am ecstatic he missed the photos. I know Josh and Effie don’t care. Look at them.” With their arms wrapped around one another, they only had eyes for each other, unbothered by any chaos around them. He folded Charlotte’s soft hand into his. “Let’s head over to the reception.”

With her arm in his, he escorted Charlotte over to the restaurant, conveniently located across the street from the park. He had just handed his beautiful date a flute of champagne when Liam finally arrived with Lana on his arm, mere minutes to spare before he was expected to make his best man toast to the bride and groom. In typical Liam fashion, he charmed the audience before giving a sentimental speech that had the bride and groom each wiping away tears. After he finished, Josh joked his cousin had been late because he’d probably been getting engaged himself. Surprising no one and delighting everyone, Liam raised a glass of champagne, confirming that he had proposed to Lana, and she had accepted. The announcement almost brought the house down, and warmth spread through Henry that his nephew had gotten another chance at happiness with the woman he had loved desperately for two years. Normally, a bride and groom might be upset by another couple getting engaged on their wedding day, but since Josh and Effie had been instrumental in bringing Lana and Liam back together, they were elated, even making a toast in their honor before they cut the cake.

After dinner was over, Josh and Effie swayed to their first dance as a married couple, and when the band segued into the second song, they invited everyone onto the dance floor with them. “Dance with me?” Henry raised Charlotte’s hand to his mouth, tenderly kissing her knuckles, and her smile made him want to weep in gratitude. All of his emotions were in overdrive, and he stroked a finger down the cheek of her stunning face while circling her to the outskirts of the dance floor. “Do you want to leave soon? Head back to my place? Or yours…I’m not picky.” Henry yearned to be alone with her and slid his thumb over her parted lips, still moist from their kiss minutes ago. Everything about her made him absolutely primal, and his chest swelled knowing that she tasted of him.

Charlotte chuckled, the action pushing her breasts into his ribs. More than ever, he needed her with fierce intensity. “You can’t be serious,” she replied instead of the yes he wanted. “They still need to do the dollar dance.”

“I think they’ll be okay without me paying a dollar to dance with my daughter-in-law.” Henry tugged her so her pelvis was flush with his.

“Maybe,” Charlotte wound her finger around the hair at his nape, “but I want a chance to compare your son’s dancing skills to yours.” Her other hand stroked his bicep. “Plus, we haven’t congratulated Liam on his engagement yet!”

Henry’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he worried it was Melanie. Again. He should have blocked her, but had decided he’d rather be aware of her trying to contact him than not know what she was doing, at least for tonight. Tomorrow he’d be done with her for good.

“There’s that girl again, Henry,” Charlotte pointed out, right before he twirled her. “Did you ever find out who she was?”

Looking over to the edge of the dance floor, Henry saw the young woman he had spoken with twice today. “Just that her name is Sophie.” No one seemed to know her, but she was watching him expectantly. The dance was open to the public, but he couldn’t recall seeing her before today; yet, there was something familiar about her, whether it was her blonde hair or the bright blue eyes that had sparkled up at him when he had talked to her, he wasn’t sure.

“Maybe it’s someone from Effie’s side. Do you think Diadema knows her?” Henry followed Charlotte’s line of sight to DD scowling next to Burnside. Damn DD, he cursed silently, for either deliberately ignoring that he and Charlotte were in a relationship, or being too wrapped up in herself to simply not care. “Did she ever tell you why she came by your house that morning?” He shook his head, still thrilled that Charlotte, clad in his shirt, had answered his door that day; the sight caused DD to flee hastily, and she hadn’t sought him out since. Until tonight, when he’d ducked out to the parking lot before the dance had begun, on the verge of blocking Melanie. DD had interrupted him, desperate to talk. Frustrated with each of the women from his past, he brushed her aside, uninterested in anything she had to say. Instead, he rushed in to collect Charlotte for a dance.

“I’m sure it was something about Burnside.” The tempo slowed, and the band began playing a Vince Gill song. With one arm already cradling her back, his other slid around to do the same, pulling her even closer. “Have I mentioned how happy I’ve been this past month?” He kissed her forehead.

Charlotte sighed. “Maybe once or twice. Me, too, Henry.” Her brown eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “And just so you know, Amy approves.” The weekend of the rodeo, her best friend had grilled him about his intentions toward Charlotte. He must have passed her test, because when he tried to give them their space, she insisted on Henry joining them. Charlotte made lasagna, Henry’s favorite, and the three of them played board games until Amy left to meet up with a cowboy shed met at the rodeo. Seeing another side of Charlotte emerge in the presence of her best friend, he’d fallen even more for her. Before Amy departed for Sioux City, she hugged him, telling him softly, “She’s happy, Henry.”

As the ballad ended, Charlotte stroked his arm. “I’m going to get a glass of champagne and another slice of cake. Do you want anything?”

Bringing her hand to his mouth, he tenderly kissed her palm. “I’ll just take a Diet Pepsi. Maybe bring two forks for the cake, though?”

Charlotte grinned. “Considering the places our mouths have been on each other’s bodies, I think I’m okay sharing my fork.” Henry chuckled, stopping when she whispered, “And I plan on having my mouth on some very interesting places later,” leaving him with his own mouth watering and stomach clenching.

Was this love? Henry wondered. He hoped so, but he feared trusting himself, having gotten it so wrong before. In high school, he thought he loved DD, but he’d been naïve. As a young man, heartbreak had accompanied his love for Melanie. Now in his mid-life, with Charlotte, he was cautious, not just to respect her but to protect himself. But his passion, deep and full, made him want to trust his feelings.

Henry’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it. Glancing at the bar, he saw Charlotte in conversation with Tess, her head tipped back in laughter. Her lightness emanated across the room, enveloping him. His phone buzzed again.

Text from Melanie

I need a chance to explain—you owe me that much. I am begging you to please call me.

There is something you need to know—tonight!!!

Please. Just call me and I won’t bother you again. I promise.

Henry, if I ever meant anything to you, you will call me back. Please.

Sighing, he supposed he couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. Skirting past George and Nora on the dance floor, looking like newlyweds themselves, Henry was almost out one of the side doors when his sister stopped him.

“Henry,” Trixie cried, throwing her smaller frame into him and hugging him tightly. “Some news about Liam, huh?”

He laughed in agreement. “Yeah, I’m shocked, but not really. I suppose we’ll be having another wedding soon.”

“Now how do I get my boys as happy as Josh and Liam? Daniel won’t tell me anything about his personal life, and as far as I know, Felix doesn’t have one.”

“Trix, you know it takes time to be ready for love.”

“Not for me and Brian. I knew he was the one when we met in college.”

“You guys were lucky. So were George and Nora.”

“Speaking of love, you and Charlotte look extremely happy.” His sister kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you are the best of the best…not that I’m biased or anything.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty happy for me, too. I don’t want to mess anything up with her.”

“You won’t, little brother.” Another kiss from his sister. “Oh, I meant to ask, did you talk to a young woman tonight? Goes by the name of Sophie?” He nodded. “She was asking me about you.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Yeah, it was kind of weird. Like she wanted to know if I knew you, and when I said you were my brother, she made a comment like she had heard you were really nice…something about helping her with her car. I don’t know. Something about it was just…odd, I guess.”

“I spoke with her twice, very briefly. And it was a little odd, you’re right, like she had something to say. But then she disappeared before I could ask who she was.” Henry shrugged. “I probably did some work for her parents or something, and maybe she needs help.”

Trixie’s husband swung her out onto the dance floor. “Sorry, Henry, your sister owes me a dance.” Henry admired the easy way the couple had with each other; that’s what he could have with Charlotte. He tipped his head and used the nearest exit.

Trotting down the metal stairs, he scanned the area to ensure he was alone. His thumb hovered over Melanie’s name when the door opened. “Henry, I’m so glad to catch you alone. Can we talk?” His stomach dropped. DD was the last person he wished to speak to now, but she was down the stairs quicker than he could tell her to leave. “DD, now is not a good time.”

“I’m sure. Based on your attitude toward me lately, I’m beginning to think it will never be a good time.”

“And what is it that we need to talk about?” All he wanted was to make this phone call and get back inside, to his son, to Charlotte…to his life.

“To apologize. I’ve been trying to find a time to do it all day. I know I’ve been erratic…drinking too much…making questionable choices. But I made a promise to my children today to be better…to do better. It’s just…you’ve been there for me so many times when I’ve needed someone, and…” DD’s lips turned up in a smile that wasn’t quite convincing. “I guess I’ve taken your friendship…your kindness…for granted.”

“Let’s face it: we haven’t been friends, not truly. I helped you for Effie’s sake because I care very much for her.” He was done with DD calling the shots, setting the parameters of their relationship. “But let me make something crystal clear: I am not interested in rewriting our past or imagining any what-if scenarios with you, ever.” DD’s eyes widened. “I’m willing to be your friend, but there have to be boundaries. From now on, if you need further help with anything, you’ll have to look elsewhere. And I won’t have you casting any doubts or inserting yourself in my relationship with Charlotte.”

Her eyes glittered with tears. “I’ve been terrible, haven’t I? After I met Nathaniel, I worked so hard to be nothing like my parents. But after he died, in order to survive, I became like them. Marrying Burnside started as an extension of that, but I have always loved him—he’s a good man, who probably deserves better than me,” she said tearfully. “The thing about you, Henry, is I always knew that was the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were too good for me, even as a teenager. Charlotte, though…the two of you are right for each other. I didn’t mean to try to come between the two of you. I didn’t let myself get to know her because I was scared. When she moved here, and I saw your sister becoming friends with her, I was afraid that Nora would, too, and then I’d lose my best friend.”

“You could never lose her,” he assured her.

“I know, but I was irrational. So while you never considered us friends, I did. You’re the only other person who has ever given me any grace. And when Burnie’s health got bad, I couldn’t lose you, too.”

Henry nodded, granting DD the forgiveness she sought. “I understand.”

She flashed a grateful smile. “I’m sorry I’ve been selfish, but I do wish you and Charlotte every happiness.” After wiping her eyes, her gaze was sincere. “I’d better go finish up with the caterers. You’re lucky you don’t have a daughter, Henry. They’re very demanding on their wedding days.”

She left, and Henry finally rang Melanie. “Well, here I am, ready to talk. What’s so urgent?”

“Oh, Henry,” Melanie sighed. “I wish you’d called me earlier…I’m afraid it’s too late now.” Too late? Too late for what?

“All the phone calls, all the texts, but now that I’m ready to talk, it’s just games. Tell me what you want now, because after tonight, it’s over. I won’t do this anymore.”

“Henry?” a soft voice called from a darkened corner.

Melanie gasped. “Henry, I’m sorry, please, please listen to me. I never meant-”

The panic in Melanie’s voice was alarming, but so was the expression on the face of the young woman stepping out of the shadows. Henry asked her, “Can I help you?”

It was the young woman, Sophie, emerging from the side of the building. “I’m sorry…I’ve been trying to talk to you all day.”

“Henry,” Melanie wailed, “please listen to me⁠—”

He hissed into the phone, “I need to go.”

“But-”

“No, Melanie, stop. We’re done.” Without a goodbye, he hung up on his ex. To the young woman, he softened his tone. “Sophie, right?” Seconds passed; Henry was sure she was going to turn and leave.

With her arms crossed in front of her, she inhaled. “Yes, and you’re⁠—”

“Hey, Charlotte, looks like you and Henry are having a good time,” Tess greeted her with green eyes twinkling as she stood at the bar with one hand on her belly.

Charlotte grinned, warmth spreading through her. “You could say that. Wasn’t the wedding beautiful?”

Tess twisted her fiery red curls up and fanned her neck with a bar napkin. “Beyond. Those vows they wrote? I needed three tissues! You know, when Josh and I were together, he wasn’t quite that romantic. I guess he needed Effie to draw that out of him.”

“Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we get the right partners at the right time. Like you and your husband.” Prior to meeting Sam, Charlotte had already been a fan of his books, particularly the second one, when he introduced a romantic storyline new to his series. According to Ruth, that development closely mirrored Tess and Sam’s own love story.

“Sam is a little too romantic sometimes,” Tess joked, rubbing her belly. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, Sam couldn’t seem to keep his hands off his wife whenever they were near each other, not that Charlotte could blame him, because Tess, with her red hair and body ripe with pregnancy, exuded an earthy sexiness. “I suppose once the babies come, we won’t have as much time for romance.”

“Well, I’m the wrong person to ask about that. Romance was never high on the list of priorities for my ex-husband and me. We were high school sweethearts who, as we got older, turned into more friends than lovers.”

Tess nodded. “I get that. That’s how Josh and I were. That’s why, when I met Sam, everything was electric. It’s different, falling in love when you’re older. You have more of a sense of self.”

“It took me years to figure that out,” Charlotte admitted. “Sometimes I can’t believe that Brady and I just coasted along like we did for so many years. Especially now…”

“Especially now that you’re with Henry, right?” Charlotte blushed at Tess’s question. “Although some people got lucky in love in high school, like them.” Tess pointed to the dance floor, where George and Nora were staring into each other’s eyes. “I’m sure Henry counts his lucky stars that things never worked out for him and Diadema.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, since Henry was in love with her, back in the day.”

Recalling the lunch she’d had last spring with Nora and Trixie, where Henry’s feelings for DD had been a topic of concern, she responded, “It was my understanding that he just had a crush on her, not that he was in love with her.” At least that’s what his sister had insisted.

Visibly distraught, Tess assured her, “I’m sure you’re right, and I never should have said anything. But, like we said, who knows what love is when you’re a teenager? I didn’t. It sounds like you didn’t.” Tess turned to flag down the bartender, but Charlotte put a hand on her arm.

“Can I ask why you thought he was in love with her?”

“Um, Effie said something to Ruth.” Tess turned to the bartender and ordered a Diet Dr. Pepper. “Do you want anything, Charlotte?”

She shook her head. “Okay, so it’s probably just talk from Diadema. I think she has a thing for drama,” Charlotte explained.

Tess took a sip of her pop. “Oh, I agree, especially when you consider how she used Henry to take her to prom after her boyfriend took someone else. Totally played on his feelings for her. Even back then, he had to be the sweetest man ever.”

“Don’t forget romantic.” Ruth came up to them, holding a plate with a slice of cake. “I told you about the Eiffel Tower he made, Tessie.”

With dread, Charlotte asked, “What Eiffel Tower?”

Ruth said, “You know how proms have a theme?” Charlotte nodded; last year’s theme at Beverley High had been A Night to Remember. She had chaperoned it, along with Paul, and the two of them had danced, giggling the entire night, probably more than the teenagers. “Well, their prom theme was ‘Paris’, and according to Effie, Henry carved a model of the Eiffel Tower for Diadema.”

“Which I’m sure doesn’t mean anything to him now,” Tess assured her.

“Didn’t mean anything to Diadema that night, either.” Ruth forked cake into her mouth. “When Henry went to pick her up for prom, she was gone. Now, this next part I got from Cait, and her information is courtesy of her mom. Diadema told Nora that Henry was going to meet them at the prom, so she had Nora and George pick her up at her house instead. Anyway, Henry left the Eiffel Tower he made for her at her house, and she didn’t see it until the next day; by then, she was back together with her idiot boyfriend, and she threw it away.”

Charlotte felt humiliated on Henry’s behalf, being discarded so callously by Diadema. To have the grace now to help her whenever she asked illustrated his pure heart. “Poor Henry.”

“Hey.” Tess hugged her. “He survived. And now he’s happy with you. It’s like you two were meant to be, both single at the same time, meeting at the right time?”

“Tessie’s right. Don’t worry about his ancient history with Diadema. Imagine how bad she must be feeling, knowing this time she can’t drive you out of town.”

Charlotte pulled back. “What are you talking about?”

Tess said quickly, “Nothing—she’s not talking about anything. Ruth, didn’t you say Mom and Dad were taking your girls back to their place soon?” With her eyebrows raised, Tess shot her sister a look.

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I came over here.” Ruth backed away from the bar.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Charlotte had to know everything. “Who did Diadema drive out of town?”

Tess paused and replied, “It’s so stupid, and there were other reasons why she left⁠—”

Ruth interrupted her sister, “A million, actually.”

Tess nodded. “Yes, a million. A million wrong reasons, of course. Why else would she leave her own kid and a husband like Henry?”

“You’re talking about Melanie?” Charlotte clarified.

Sighing, Ruth took a drink of her sister’s pop. “Now, keep in mind that no one even knew this until two years ago, but Effie says that one of the reasons Melanie left was because she thought Henry still had feelings for Diadema. That before Diadema moved back to Clover Lake with Effie after Effie’s dad died, everything was fine with her and Henry.”

“But how does Effie know? Melanie’s only been in contact with Henry’s dad, right? Is this what she told William?” Charlotte wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer to her question.

“No, Melanie herself told Henry,” Ruth frowned.

“What? When?” Suddenly nauseous, Charlotte was thankful she hadn’t had that second slice of cake.

Ruth shrugged. “I’m not sure, in one of her phone calls to him.”

Phone calls? Maybe Melanie’s call this morning hadn’t been the one-off she presumed. Charlotte had assumed, stupidly, that Henry wasn’t in direct contact with her because in the time she and Henry had been seeing each other, spending every night together, he had never said anything about having recent phone calls with his ex-wife.

“Charlotte, please, this all sounds worse that it truly is.” Tess’s green eyes shimmered.

Dazed, Charlotte nodded, not wanting to think the worst of Henry. Was it possible that, while she’d been falling in love, he’d either been lying to her or, at the very least, withholding the truth? “It’s okay.” With tears forming at the back of her throat, she managed a wobbly smile. “I just need some air.”

In unison, they nodded. “You’ll feel better once you talk to Henry. I saw him go out that door before I came over.” Ruth pointed across the room. With a grateful smile, Charlotte made her way to the door.

At the edge of the dance floor, Trixie grabbed her for a hug. “Lottie, I’ve been meaning to tell you all day how gorgeous you look. That dress is stunning on you.”

Charlotte looked down at her dress, which was inspired by the Van Gogh painting Sunflowers. A couple of weeks ago, Henry had taken a Wednesday off for a day trip to Pierre after Charlotte commented the night before that she had not yet been to the state capitol. Only two hours from Beverley, Pierre was not accessible by the interstate that ran across South Dakota, but the view from the state highways made up for the slower speed limit. Rolling green hills, with crops of corn, soybeans, alfalfa, and sunflowers, made up the majestic landscape, as did pastures dotted with cows, sheep, and bison. While reminiscent of Iowa in some places, the view was also spectacularly different. The journey took them through two reservations, prompting Charlotte to ask where Grass Valley, the reservation Effie’s dad grew up on, was located. Henry informed her that was north yet, another fifty miles. When they encountered the Missouri River, whose surface glittered brightly in the summer sun, Charlotte gasped, marveling at how the land surrounding could be so desolate in some areas, yet vibrant and teeming with energy in others, and the juxtaposition was glorious. With Fort Pierre on one side of the river crossing and Pierre on the other, the entire area was a testament to both Lakota life and the French fur traders who settled there three hundred years ago. Hand in hand, Henry and Charlotte had walked around La Framboise Island, located in the center of the river, before visiting several small shops in Pierre. Henry had been the one to point the dress out to her, telling her how beautiful she would look in it. He hadn’t been wrong, and when she had put it on this afternoon, running her hands over the silky material, she knew she was dressing for his gaze. When he finally saw her before the wedding, he swept her away from the growing crowd, ushering her behind the gazebo. “You take my breath away,” his deep voice told her, hooking two fingers under the delicate straps on her shoulders before brushing his knuckles across her chest, sending lightning through her body.

“Henry.” She couldn’t contain her moan and used her own hands to elicit sounds of pleasure from him as she slid them inside his jacket, unsnapping the top few closures on his shirt to feel the heat of his skin. In his ear, she tempted him, “I wouldn’t say no if you had me right here…up against this gazebo…” thrilled when his body clenched. One of his powerful hands moved to her hip, the other down her bottom, where he cupped her. Panting, she bit her lip in a mindless effort to keep quiet as he stepped between her legs, drawing one knee up across his hip.

From the gazebo above them, Josh interrupted their reverie. “Dad? Dad?” He called out, “Has anyone seen my dad?” Laughing softly, Charlotte and Henry ended their make-out session, which was for the best, because she had no doubt that in the next minute, she would have shown Henry just how badly she wanted him and removed any clothing hindering all access to her pleasure.

She answered Trixie, “Thank you. You look beautiful, too.” Henry’s sister had her dark blonde hair pulled up, glittery earrings dangling from her lobes. Her dress, a multicolored mix of fabrics, was an eclectic style Charlotte identified as Trixie’s own. Though she was an accountant, the woman was far from boring.

“Lottie, my brother…you need to know that I have never seen him like this. So energetic. Happy. At peace. I even heard through the grapevine that he’s been taking off random days during the week, and that’s absolutely unheard of for him. You’ve brought a sparkle and lightness to him. He’s never had that before.” Trixie dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry, I’m just emotional. With Josh getting married, and then Liam getting engaged, there’s so much love. And my brother is part of that, you know. And it’s been so long for him. Too long, but I’m glad he waited. No one deserves to be happy more than Henry, and the two of you together are gorgeous.”

Charlotte flushed because she felt the same, despite her concern over everything she had learned. Although she yearned to talk to Henry’s sister about what she had just heard from Tess and Ruth, something in her wanted…needed…to speak with Henry first. A movement behind Trixie caught her attention, as Diadema stepped through the door Charlotte had been heading to. What had she been doing outside? Heart lurching now, she returned Trixie’s hug, promising, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Steeling herself, Charlotte walked on trembling legs and opened the door. Immediately, Henry’s voice drifted up to her, “All the phone calls, all the texts, but now that I want to talk, it’s just games. Tell me what you want now, because after tonight, it’s over. I won’t do this anymore.” Charlotte’s heart sank. So it was true. He had been calling, or at the very least, receiving calls from his ex-wife. Why hadn’t he just told her? She would have understood. Did he not trust her?

“Henry?” Charlotte didn’t recognize the female voice.

She heard him respond, “Can I help you?”

The female voice spoke again, only louder, “I’m sorry…I’ve been trying to talk to you all day.”

In an angry tone Charlotte had never heard Henry use, he said, “I need to go. No, Melanie, stop. We’re done.” He must have hung up then, because he was calmer when he said, “Sophie, right?”

Sophie? The young woman who had tried twice today to talk to Henry? Who had been at the wedding, yet no one seemed to know who she was? What could she want with Henry? Sophie said, “Yes, and you’re⁠—”

Almost Twenty-Five Years Ago

Tonight was Joshua’s Christmas concert at school, and with his cousin at his elbow, he ran up to her. “Mom, can I stay at Liam’s house tonight?” She shook her head.

At twelve, his blue eyes were only an inch or so below hers. He’d gotten taller, practically overnight, which was good, because he’d started getting a little chubby last year. “Absolutely not.” The two boys had been spending so much time together, you’d think they were brothers instead of cousins. “That medical journal you wanted arrived today. I thought we could look through that together tonight.” Since before he started kindergarten, she’d worked hard with Joshua to ensure his interest in medicine, and now was the time to start really leaning into it. Henry thought she was a little too invested, but as she always explained, they couldn’t have their son failing where he had—Joshua would go to college, and he would become a doctor someday. With his cousin at his side, her beloved son stomped away in a fit to collect his tuba from the band room.

Her sister-in-law intervened, “What’s the big deal about him staying over? It’s a Friday night.” Of course Nora would say that—Liam didn’t come close to his cousin’s intelligence. His sister, Cait, was smart, but if Melanie were being honest, the poor girl was quite homely. A shame, since all the boys in the Livingston family had been blessed when it came to their looks.

Melanie gritted her teeth. “Well, we also want to spend some family time together. Henry’s been working six nights a week at the shop, coming home late, exhausted and dirty, every night.”

“Oh, really?” Nora responded, her perfectly arched eyebrows raised slightly, nodding over to where Henry was speaking with his brother. “George has been home just after five every night. He told me that the shop has been kind of slow.” Nora shrugged into her fur-lined leather jacket, and even if it wasn’t real, it was convincing enough to make Melanie envious. No way could Nora afford something so extravagant on her husband’s salary as a mechanic alone, which meant the income Nora earned working at the auto dealership her parents owned was supplementing her lifestyle. Must be nice to be that rich, Melanie thought sourly. If Henry had lived up to his ambition of becoming a doctor, Melanie would be the one wrapped up in such finery now, instead of pushing her arms into her years-old wool coat, which had seen a lifetime of long South Dakota winters. Before moving to this hellhole fourteen years ago, Melanie had no need for heavy coats.

“I’m sure you’re right. Henry’s probably just planning a surprise for Christmas.” Melanie mustered as much bravado as she could. “He’s always doing sweet things like that.” That used to be true, but it had been years since he’d done anything for her out of the blue.

Down the hall, Diadema, or DD, the annoying name Henry insisted on calling her, waved at Nora, with the Texas-sized diamond on her ring finger flashing underneath the fluorescent lights of the grade school. Immaculate, golden-brown hair fell in waves around the woman’s shoulders, driving Melanie to smooth her own blonde hair, which she had hastily pulled back into a ponytail. With her toddler on her hip, DD stopped to speak with Henry and George. Henry’s fingers reached out, tickling the boy under his chin, and the two of them laughed, reminding Melanie of the many times her husband had brought up the topic of the two of them having another baby. In the first few years, Melanie just changed the subject, until Henry got so insistent that she had to flat-out refuse him. It had been hard enough losing all that weight the first time, and now that she was in her thirties, he wanted her to get fat again? No way. Fanning herself with the concert program, a wave of nausea coursed through her, and she wondered why Henry would want an infant when Joshua was practically a teenager now?

Students poured out of the music room, then, with Liam in the lead, his gorgeous chestnut hair gleaming. At Joshua’s elbow was Euphemie, DD’s daughter, and she groaned. Melanie would never get that woman out of their lives if her son continued to be friends with the girl, although she certainly understood why Joshua wanted to be near her. At thirteen, she was a year ahead of Joshua, and already possessed a beauty more exotic than all the other girls. The middle schoolers had music and band together in the small school, and too many of Joshua’s tales lately began with “Euphemie this” and “Euphemie that”. Her son was growing up and maturing, and Melanie dreaded that soon he would no longer come to her for advice, or anything else, for that matter. He’d already begun resisting her influence in small ways, like when she had tried to dissuade him from playing the tuba, nudging him toward the more elegant saxophone, but that hadn’t worked.

Tasting bile at the back of her throat, she abruptly excused herself to Nora, making it to the restroom just in time to relieve her stomach of its contents. She’d been feeling off for the past few days, but it came in short waves, passing before she could make too much fuss about it. After rinsing her mouth out, she slapped color back into her cheeks. Where she used to see beauty, she only saw a haggard has-been every time she looked in the mirror. “I guess Mama was right,” she murmured to her reflection. Nothing more she could do with herself, she exited the bathroom, immediately spotting Nora and DD huddled together, thick as thieves like always, cooing over Hamilton. Try as she might, she could not keep back the jealousy as she surveyed the friends. Fifteen years in this town, and she still didn’t have anyone like that. Her husband should be her best friend, but they’d never had that, not even those nights under the stars at the Grand Canyon.

Holding a hand on her stomach, sweeping her eyes left and right, she found everyone else at the exit doors. Thanks, Henry, she thought sourly. Were her husband and son going to leave without her? Aiming for nonchalant, she sauntered over to them. “I’m ready to go.” Without waiting for a response, she breezed out the door.

In the car, she tried to cheer up Joshua by suggesting they decorate the Christmas tree when they got home. He snapped, “I thought you made me come home so we could look at those journals?”

“Medical journals again, Mellie?” Henry sighed. “A little obsessive, don’t you think?”

“Someone has to care about his future,” she hotly responded. After a moment, she relented. “I suppose the journals can wait until tomorrow. Do you want to do the tree, Joshua?”

“Yes!” Joshua shouted. At least one of them was happier now.

Henry glanced at Melanie. “It’s getting late, isn’t it? Maybe the tree should wait until tomorrow.”

“And then what?” She hissed at her husband, “You’re never home anymore, Henry, and the tree has been sitting in our house since the day after Thanksgiving! Every weekend, you say we’re going to decorate it, but then you work on Saturday, come home too tired, and Sundays we’re with your family.” Reapplying her lip gloss as “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” played on the radio, Melanie sharply noted, “You all seemed pretty chummy tonight.”

Henry frowned, “What do you mean?” As if he didn’t know.

“Honestly, Henry, cooing over that baby? Where was his own father?” Since DD’s return to Clover Lake, Melanie had suffered as she swanned around town. It wasn’t enough that DD’s parents were some of the most prestigious people in town, but then she married an even wealthier man? Melanie had never stumbled into that kind of luck, not that she had any desire to be married to anyone but Henry, who was still the most handsome man she’d ever known. He was thoughtful and loving with their son, patient when she was on the verge of snapping. But she no longer saw the promise of love for her in his eyes anymore.

Another sigh, and Henry pulled into their driveway. “Mellie, what’s this all about?” The car shook as Joshua got out, carrying his tuba to the house. “I was only talking to my brother while we waited for the kids.”

“You know damn well what I’m talkin’ about! Standing there, with her and that baby, actin’ like it’s your family!”

“You can’t be serious, Mellie.” Henry barely raised his voice, not even giving her the satisfaction of a proper fight.

“Where was her husband, Henry? I’m sure he wouldn’t have appreciated you following her with your eyes-”

“I don’t control who walks the hallways!”

Melanie noted that he didn’t deny her accusation and narrowed her own eyes at him. “Where have you been every night?”

“What do you mean? I’m at home with you.”

“No, I mean right after work. You told me you’ve been working overtime because the shop is so busy, but Nora told me that George has been coming home early.”

“You never seem particularly interested in when I come home, Mellie, so I don’t know why-”

She cut him off. “So you’re not even gonna give me an excuse? Just evade the question altogether? Henry, what are you doing after work?” Melanie’s lip quivered, and she forced herself to ask, “Are you seeing someone else?”

“What? I would never!”

Too overwrought to hold her emotions in check, Melanie cried, feeling foolish. What else would he say? Of course, he would deny her accusations.

“Are we decorating or what?” Joshua stood on the front steps. “I’m making some popcorn to string.” Well, at least he was in a better mood.

“Mellie—”

“Let’s just go inside before he eats all the popcorn.” Desperate to believe him, she gave him a small smile. What she wanted more than anything was for him to swoop her up into his arms, like he used to do after they were first married, to acknowledge her sacrifice, recognizing that she had stayed here, in the middle of nowhere, for him.

The next morning, as Johnny Mathis crooned on the stereo in their living room, Melanie sat on the floor surrounded by presents and wrapping paper, putting the finishing touches on Henry’s gift, a coffee grinder. He’d gotten it into his head that he could somehow taste the difference in coffee when he ground the beans himself, and he had ruined their blender a few weeks ago doing just that. Before she wrapped Joshua’s gift, a microscope, she debated showing it to Henry first. A few months ago, Melanie had been getting dirty clothes from her son’s room when she came across a science equipment catalogue with this exact model circled, and she’d called the company to order it for him. Once it arrived, she marveled at the size of the box before carefully extracting it. Gently turning it over in her hands, she imagined her son using it one day. For the life of her, she had no clue how to even turn on the dang thing, or if it even needed to be turned on. Maybe it was ready to go? Ever since he discovered his dad had wanted to be a doctor “once upon a time”, Joshua had made it his plan to become one. Over the years, Melanie had built the myth up to their son to ensure he would carry out what should have been his father’s legacy, but to her chagrin, he refused to discuss his own long-buried dream. Of course, she gave herself equal time to shine in the spotlight, regaling Joshua with her own tales of the Hollywood star she could have been, and to her delight, she had piqued his interest in the performing arts.

Melanie’s stomach cramped just as she tied a ribbon around Joshua’s gift, and she shot to her feet, making it to the toilet just in time. Ugh. Three days in a row now she’d been nauseous. Some stomach bug or another was always going around in Joshua’s school, but usually it passed in a day or two. She must’ve gotten one of those really strong ones, she decided.

Pouring herself a glass of apple juice, she dialed her sister. Though Melanie spoke infrequently with her mother, she talked to Casey every other day, and being sick made her miss her even more.

“Hello?” Though it was two in the afternoon, her sister’s voice was ragged. Melanie wondered if she had worked a late shift last night or just stayed up all night arguing with her boyfriend, who was a scalawag of the first order.

“Casey, what in the world has you soundin’ like somethin’ Mama dug up from her flower bed?” No matter how she tried to prevent it, her accent went straight to what she called “white trailer trash” the moment she spoke to her sister or her mama. Or if she was frustrated with her husband, like last night.

“Mellie! How’s my handsome little nephew?”

“He’s…good. Not so little, though.” The day Melanie dreaded would come, when her baby boy no longer needed her, and she fought back her mounting desolation.

“What’s with the pause? Last time you called, you said he was acing all of his classes, which is more than either of us ever did!”

Melanie didn’t react to Casey’s joke because her nausea rose again, and she worried she would need to cut her phone call short. She paused briefly to let it pass, then replied, “No, he’s still doin’ good. He’s so smart…just like Henry.” Melanie whimpered softly, and her sister caught it.

“Oh, Mellie, how’s that bad? Henry’s so sweet every time I call. The same as when you guys were here all those years ago.”

Right around when Joshua was four, the three of them visited Florida, after years of Henry nagging her about it. He suggested her family could meet them at Walt Disney World, but Melanie said the eight-hour drive was too far for her mama. What she hadn’t told him was that her mama would never have enough money for the gas, theme park, or hotel, and she couldn’t bear her mama being a charity case. To her amazement, Henry had pivoted, and they stayed in Pensacola right by the beach on the Gulf Shores. Her mama’s eyes lit up at the sight of Henry, so polished when he wasn’t working in the auto shop (if you didn’t look too closely under his nails). Mama had commented quietly to Melanie that Henry looked like a man who could afford to be generous, and he was, treating Mama and Casey to meals out, buying almost a year’s worth of groceries when they went to the store for “picnic supplies”, even paying the two months of back rent Mama owed on the trailer.

At the beach, Mama whistled, “My, my, my, Mellie, you sure got a good one,” when Henry took off his shirt to play with Joshua in the surf. After sipping the cocktail she bought from a man trailing a cooler behind him, she continued, “I guess all those hours spent twistin’ tools and crawling’ under cars is worth it after all.” Mama slipped her sunglasses down her nose to peer over them at her daughter. “How long do you expect it to last?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that man is of a higher class than you. Yes, he may work with his hands, but you can see his good breeding. Men like that don’t stay with women like us, Mellie. Guaranteed, he will want somethin’ more one day.”

Melanie, still clinging to her Hollywood fantasy, informed her, “We’re both gonna have somethin’ more! I’m workin’ on gettin’ us outta South Dakota, Mama. We’re goin’ to California one day-”

Snorting with laughter, her mama responded, “Not that old pipe dream! Girl, when will you wise up? Ain’t nothin’ special ‘bout you. The only place you will land is back here, with me and your sister. And maybe that kid o’ yours, but maybe not. Your husband seems awfully attached to the little guy. And what you told me about his family, he ain’t never gonna leave them.”

Annoyed and stung by her mama’s words, Melanie had thrown off her swimsuit cover-up to cool off in the water when her mama’s words stopped her in her tracks. “The only thing you can do, oh daughter of mine, is keep poppin’ out them babies. That’s what’ll keep a man like Henry interested.” After that trip, Melanie ensured she was careful with her birth control, intent on proving her mother wrong.

She assured Casey, “No, everything’s fine with Henry.” What wasn’t fine was Melanie, who worried she was going to be sick again.

Drawing in deep breaths, she listened as her sister said, “Well, hopefully I’ll be able to see for myself soon enough.” Every month, Melanie sent her sister money to save for a visit sometime, on the promise she wouldn’t tell their mama.

“Yep,” Melanie quickly agreed, “I gotta go, Casey. I’m not feeling too good.”

“Oh, no…for how long?”

“The past few days.”

Casey teased, “Ooh—could I be getting a new niece or nephew? Maybe that’ll be a good time to visit.”

Melanie’s blood ran cold at her sister’s words, and the vomit she’d been holding back surged up her throat. Leaving the receiver dangling, she raced to the bathroom, making it in the nick of time. Crying into the porcelain, she trembled. How could she do this again? How could she stay, with another baby, in a place she hated, where no one loved her? Joshua did, she corrected herself, for now. How long, though? When would he realize his mother wasn’t good enough for him? She wasn’t smart or talented, no special skills of any kind. Even her blonde hair, once her shining glory, wasn’t real anymore.

On Christmas Eve, before picking Henry up from work, she went to the pharmacy for the test she hadn’t had the courage to buy, let alone take, before that day. When she opened the door, tacked to the board in the entryway, the Greyhound Bus schedule caught her eye, reminding her of the time twelve years ago when she’d first noticed the pharmacy also served as the bus depot. At the Christmas Eve celebration with her in-laws that night, unable to wait another moment without knowing her fate, she ducked into the bathroom. Sitting in silence, the holiday revelry from the living room mocked the panic she felt as the second line appeared on her pregnancy test, and she was too stunned…too broken to move.

Christmas morning, after they opened their gifts, while Henry and Joshua pored over the instructions to the microscope they had both loved, Melanie called her sister from the bedroom.

The next day, another bout of nausea hit Melanie, and she pressed her forehead to the icy glass on the bus, letting her tears fall freely—the tears she had kept a tight rein on since leaving Clover Lake that morning. Knowing no one would understand, she’d done it anyway—left it all behind her. Left them behind: the only man who had ever loved her, and the son she was bound to disappoint.

Henry was dazed, either dreaming or in some altered state. “I’m sorry…what did you say?”

“I’m your daughter,” Sophie repeated, eyes the blue of summer skies…just like Josh’s…just like his, but she must be mistaken. He had only one child, and he had gotten married today, finally embracing the happiness that had been Henry’s primary goal in life. “You’re my father.”

“But…” his phone rang again, the call quickly rejected without checking. “I don’t…” He silenced his phone. “How…” Henry stopped, cleared his throat, then posed the only question he could wrap his addled mind around, “how old are you?” Henry had not lived a completely celibate life after Melanie, but that hadn’t happened until Josh was in college, less than twenty years ago. Sophie didn’t look like a teenager, but what did he know? Was it possible he’d carelessly gotten one of the women he’d been with pregnant, regardless of how careful he’d been?

“Twenty-four.” Twenty-four? Sophie’s answer had him doing the math in his head. Josh was thirty-six now, twelve when his mother left. A difference of twenty-four years. Melanie…Had Melanie been pregnant when she left him? No, she couldn’t have been. He would have known, right? Things had been difficult before she’d left, and she hadn’t been happy, but she wouldn’t have left him while carrying their baby…would she?

And yet, it all made spectacular sense: the frantic phone calls, the incessant texts, her inexplicable need to speak with him while saying nothing. None of it had to do with their son, after all, but…their daughter…? “Melanie,” he choked.

“Yes,” Sophie nodded. “Henry, I’m sorry.” Tears clouded her eyes. “I’m sorry I told you like this. I tried to talk to you at your auto shop on Thursday, but you left early, I guess.” Thursday…yes, Henry had only worked that morning. Charlotte had packed a picnic lunch for them, and on bicycles borrowed from Josh and Effie, they’d ridden along the river path. After finding a soft patch of grass, Henry unfolded the quilt he had strapped to his basket, smoothing it out carefully on the ground. After they ate, Charlotte convinced Henry to take his shoes and socks off and wade into the icy water with her. Her dark hair had shone almost burgundy in the blazing sun, its heat warming the hand he tucked into her nape.

Glancing around, he drew that same hand through his hair now, wondering where everyone was, wishing Charlotte was beside him to ground him, help him navigate, because she’d become his compass. Or one of his siblings, who’d always done their best to protect and support him in those dark days after Melanie disappeared. Or his parents, who loved him unconditionally, no matter what he faced. But he was alone, dealing with this—the news of his daughter? He still couldn’t believe it, was struggling to understand. “So…Melanie is…your…mom?” Somewhere behind him a door shut, but the surrounding air remained still.

“Yes.” Sophie hesitated. “She didn’t want me to find you…I’m not sure she even knows where I am. I didn’t know about you until last year, when I found this box of stuff, like newspaper clippings about…about your son…Josh…my brother.” Henry’s breath caught when she referred to Josh. What newspaper clippings? He’d assumed Melanie’s only knowledge of Josh came from his father and their phone calls, when he’d update her about Josh. Because she’d walked away.

Studying Sophie, the shape of her heavy-lidded eyes, her ears with their attached lobes, the cleft in her chin…all his. His other child. With a pang in his heart and a punch to his gut, he considered everything he had missed with her. After Josh’s birth, he loved every minute of being a father. He would rush home after work, intending to get there early enough to be the one to give Josh a bath, read to him, put him to bed, but Melanie, without fail, refused to let him near her or their son until he scrubbed off every bit of the day’s grime. By the time he was done, Josh was usually fast asleep, but he’d slip into his son’s room, brush the feathery blond hair back from his delicate forehead to give him a goodnight kiss. Josh filled the void left by Henry’s unrealized dreams.

Sounds of the wedding band drifted out every time the back door opened, and he imagined his son on the dance floor with his new wife, blissfully unaware of the truth unfolding outside. “You’re my daughter?” Henry’s voice was filled with awe, disbelief, and…hope.

Sophie nodded, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry. This probably wasn’t the time or place, but I didn’t know what else to do. I mean, I tried other ways. I called your shop, but whenever I heard your voice, I’d get nervous and hang up. Who wants to hear they have a long-lost kid over the phone, right? And Mom…Mom always said…”

“What? What did your mom say?” He braced himself for whatever lies Melanie may have come up with.

“Just that she had to raise me on her own. That my dad couldn’t be there for us. She never talked badly about you, just refused to say anything.” Sophie paused, reached into the bag slung across her body, and extracted a bottle of water.

“I never knew,” Henry shook his head. “I never knew about you. I don’t understand.” Henry’s head hurt, but the pain paled compared to the agony in his heart. If Melanie had known she was pregnant, how could she leave with their baby? How she could leave her son at all, he would never comprehend, but to have their daughter grow up without knowing her father or brother? Even if she’d discovered she was pregnant afterwards…she’d kept him from his child. The depths of her selfishness clearly had no end, and he despaired at the idea of his daughter growing up without him.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie, that I wasn’t there for you.” His throat clogged with a plethora of emotions, his mind churning; at last he managed, “I would have been there for both of you if I’d known.” Blue eyes mirroring his, he gazed into their depths. “I swear to you, I didn’t know your mom was pregnant when she left.”

“She left? Is that what happened?” Sophie’s hand lifted, only to fall to her side in the next breath. “She would never tell me anything.”

Henry was unsure of how frank to be with Sophie, who, raised solely by her mother, would undoubtedly be loyal to the only parent she had known. Annoyed with himself for wanting to protect Melanie, especially after finding out she had hidden his child from him for twenty-four years, he decided to be blunt. “Yes. She left. Without a word to me, without telling our son goodbye, she was gone.” He thought of his son, the day after Christmas, waking up to find his mother gone. He’d never forget the anguish on Josh’s face, or the hell he’d experienced trying to explain to their child why his mother wasn’t there.

Sophie shook her head, her knuckles white as she gripped the strap of her bag. “I knew Mom could be selfish and petty, but I don’t understand why she would do that.”

“Me neither. I still don’t. And Josh…he was only twelve.”

“I’m sorry, Henry. You seem so…nice. I’m sure you didn’t deserve it. That speech you gave at the reception…” Sophie’s eyes shone with tears.

“You heard it? You were there?” His sole focus had been keeping his tears at bay while talking, and he hadn’t been successful. He had been sobbing by the time he finished his speech.

She nodded. “You said you always wanted a daughter.”

His speech to the newlyweds came back to him: “Josh became everything I imagined he could be…happy, content, and at peace with his life. Effie, you bring out the best in him, it’s true. But from the day he was born, Josh has always brought out the best in me. There were some years when it was tough, just the two of us, and the only way I made it through was because of my son and his belief that I was doing an okay job as his dad. To my son, Josh, and to Effie, the daughter I always wanted, I love you both.” When he finished, he glanced down at Charlotte, with tears sparkling in her sincere brown eyes, smiling promises of her own up at him.

Sophie’s cheeks were damp with her misery. “I thought for a long time that maybe Mom never knew who my father was, but to keep me from a man who loves his son so much…who could have loved me that much, who deserved to know about me? How could she?”

Henry held his arms open to his daughter, and without missing a beat, she stepped into them. “You found me now, and that’s what matters. I’m your dad.” When long-held emotion took over, he released the pain from his heart. He’d never allowed himself to really come to terms with his wife’s desertion, choosing stoicism when Josh was younger and then resignation once his son went off to college. “I’m here, Sophie,” he assured her, whose slim shoulders shook in his embrace. More than anything, he was grateful, focused only on the child in his arms. With Sophie’s head on his shoulder, he soothed a hand on her back, neither of them speaking for an indeterminate length of time, until she sniffled.

As she withdrew slightly to pluck a tissue from her purse, he thought about what he had missed out on and whether another man had taken his place as her father. “Was it just the two of you, then, when you were growing up?”

Sophie tucked a golden curl behind her ear. “And my aunt, Casey.”

“Casey?”

Sophie confirmed, “Yeah, Mom’s sister. She was there when I was born.” Heart twisting again at not being there for the birth of his second child, Henry thought about when Josh was born. He’d been the first to hold him and had sworn that Josh’s cloudy eyes stared straight into his. “The three of us moved around a lot. Mom was always searching for the next big thing.”

“Dad?” Josh’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Henry moved to shield Sophie from Josh, wanting a chance to wrap his own head around what he had just learned before breaking it gently to him. “What are you doing out here?” The air, thick with emotion, must have set off alarm bells for his son. “Dad, who is this?”

“I can’t…I should go,” Sophie backed away from him, and Henry automatically reached for her, petrified he would never see her again, this new daughter, whose eyes were the exact shade of his son’s—that summery, sky blue, even in the nighttime lighting.

“No, please.” Henry drew her closer to him, his hand on her wrist, tentative but firm. “Please don’t go.” Facing his son, he said, “Josh, I don’t know how to tell you this. I…this is⁠—”

“Let me guess,” Josh broke in, grinning, “she’s my sister.” Neither Henry nor Sophie responded, shocked that Josh had guessed correctly. A burst of laughter from Josh followed. “Dad, seriously, you should see your face. Sorry for the lame joke. Liam and I just did shots, and they must’ve immediately gone to my head. You know how loves his tequila shots. I just hope he understands that I’m not going home with him tonight⁠—”

“Josh!” Henry interjected, regretting having to hit him with the harsh reality of another betrayal by his mother, especially on his wedding day. “Josh, you were right.”

“I was right…right about what?” His eyes darted from Henry to Sophie. “Who are you?” Josh questioned Sophie. “I’ve seen you around town; in fact, weren’t you at the hospital the other day? In the cafeteria?” At Sophie’s nod, he went on, “I thought there was something vaguely familiar about you when I saw you earlier.”

Henry kept his tone even. “This may come as a shock, but you were right, even if you were joking.” He paused, letting Josh’s gaze focus on him. “She’s your sister.”

Josh shook his head, putting a finger in his ear as if to clean it out. “I’m sorry—did you just say she,” he pointed at Sophie, “is my sister?”

“Babe? Hey, the band has about half an hour left if you wanted to-” Effie stopped in her tracks. “What’s…going on here?”

“Well,” Josh responded, “my dad was just telling me how this woman,” again, he pointed to Sophie, “is my sister.”

“I’m sorry. I know I haven’t had that much to drink—did you say she’s your sister?” Effie’s mouth hung open. “I…I…don’t understand.”

Henry rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “Look, Josh, since it’s late, and it’s your wedding, maybe we don’t need to get into everything tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” When Sophie apologized again for something for which she was blameless, Henry’s heart twisted at the guilt on her face.

Henry shook his head, his tone gentle, “No, you never need to be sorry.”

A complete change from the carefree Josh took place; now, instead, the ever-serious Josh was in command, the version of his son that had resulted from his childhood trauma. “Could someone please help me understand what is going on? Dad?”

“My name is Sophie,” she said, looking up at Josh. Effie wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist, her head on his shoulder, offering silent support, which he was going to need. Henry, thankful for her deep, abiding love for his son, wished Charlotte was beside him, lending him her inner strength as well. “I just found out last year that Henry is my dad.” She drew a shaky breath. “My mom refused to talk about him and would get upset if I ever asked any questions about who my dad was. She would only ever say that he was someone she had loved once, and that the relationship hadn’t worked out. Which, you know, lots of my friends had fathers who were not in their lives, for whatever reason, so I never questioned it. Then last year, some friends and I were taking a trip.” Sophie paused and took a drink from her water bottle. “Anyway, I didn’t have the right suitcase, so I was in my mom’s closet, and I noticed this box tucked away up there, just behind one of those bags that fit under an airplane seat. It drew my attention because I remember one night when I was a teenager, I heard my mom, like, crying in her bedroom. I’d never heard her do that before, so I went to her door, and I saw her with the box on her bed. It was so unlike her that I didn’t want to interrupt her, so I just went back to bed.” Sophie’s blue eyes were huge. “Mom is not emotional—well, she can be high-strung, I guess—but she is definitely not sentimental.” Sophie gave a short laugh. “Sorry, this is really rambling.”

“I don’t believe this,” Josh faced Henry. “Dad, this girl shows up, out of the blue, says you’re her father? You can’t tell me you’re just taking her word for it? She could be anybody!”

“She’s my daughter, Josh. I have no doubt about that.”

“Dad, seriously! This is ridiculous!” The pain on his son’s face was what he had worked so hard to avoid for the past twenty-four years. “There’s no way you have a mystery daughter show up on my wedding day! It’s too unbelievable!” Josh descended the stairs and pointed at Sophie. “How’d you even know how to be here?”

Ashen, she responded, “I…after…after I found the box, there were clippings of you in it, and I looked you up on the internet. I found a link to an article for the newspaper, the Beverley Bugle, where you gave an interview about moving back from New York.” Sophie shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I subscribed to the online edition, then. I saw your engagement announcement last fall.” She crumpled, and Henry gathered her close.

“It’s okay,” he assured her.

Josh clutched the railing, his knuckles white. “So who’s your mom then?” He had to have already known the answer but was refusing to admit it to himself; his eyes glittered under the beam from the safety lamp. “Dad? Tell me. Who’s her mom?”

Henry looked from his son to his daughter. “Melanie.” He regretted causing the shock forming on his son’s face.

“Dad, I can’t…is this true?” Effie took her husband’s arm and stroked his bicep. He gave a shuddery sigh, a sign that he was struggling to remain calm.

“Your mom must have been pregnant when she left us—the timing works out. And seeing you two now, together, there’s no doubt. Your eyes, your ears. Sophie even got my chin. All I can tell both of you is that I didn’t know. If I had…if I had known, you would have known me,” he told Sophie, his voice breaking. “I would never have let you grow up without your father.” Emotion overtaking him, his heart in his throat, he vowed, “I would have moved heaven and earth for you, Sophie, and for you, Josh. You would have known each other.”

Holding Sophie tightly, he reached for his son, who clasped his hand, until he finally threw his arms around them. The three of them formed a circle. “I’m sorry I never knew about you. All this time, I had a daughter.”

Effie wrapped her arms around Josh’s waist from behind, and a voice spoke from the shadows, “Well, isn’t this a sweet family reunion? Why wasn’t I invited?”

With the band packing up and the house lights on bright, the scattered remnants of the wedding dance mimicked Charlotte’s emotional state. Stumbling into the restroom, she locked herself in the last stall. Discovering that Henry had been in recent contact with his ex-wife was shocking, but not nearly as much as learning he had a daughter? Once she heard that, she shut the door leading outside as quietly as she could and left him to his privacy, too aware that she was an outsider. Having seen the young woman enough times today, Charlotte guessed her age to be in her mid-twenties, which could only mean Melanie was her mother. It was staggering to think she must have been pregnant when she left Henry and Josh. Oh, Henry, she moaned silently, imagining he must be struggling with the news, considering how they’d spoken of his desire for more children after Josh. And poor Josh, learning about earth-shattering news like this on his wedding day. At least he had Effie for comfort, and his dad. Who would be there for Henry?

Should she have gone to him and offered her support? She couldn’t, though, not after what she’d overheard him say while still in the park after the wedding to his then-unknown daughter. “Never get married,” he’d advised the young woman, unaware that Charlotte had been within earshot. During the reception, she tamped down the words in her mind, unwilling to believe that he meant them, because if he did, what did that mean for their future? Yes, she had embraced her “freedom” following her divorce, but her relationship with Henry wasn’t casual, nor did she want it to be. She wanted them to be significant to each other; that didn’t automatically have to include marriage, but he’d brushed it away so callously, in a manner so unlike the Henry she’d fallen in love with.

And yet…if Melanie had been contacting him, pressuring him in some way, it was no wonder he felt what he did. Couple that with the odd way Diadema had acted all day long, even someone as calm and even as Henry was bound to snap, eventually. Exhausted and heartbroken, the only option for her now was to go home, so Charlotte gathered up as much courage as she could and left the restroom. Many of the guests were already gone, so she made her way forlornly to the entrance of the Cattleman’s Club, picking up plastic cups smudged with lipstick and paper plates soiled with cake crumbs and sugary frosting from the long tables along the way, depositing them into the trash can nearby.

“You don’t have to do that.” Nora’s grinning face almost broke her. “DD made sure that the restaurant was going to take care of everything. I don’t know about you, but things were so different when George and I got married. Our families stayed after the dance and cleaned up. Same with Trixie and Brian. Ugh—all that sweeping and hauling out trash, when everyone is completely wiped out after the big day? No, thank you!”

Charlotte gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, when I got married, it was nothing like this. Although we only had a few guests, and it was more of a ‘do-it-yourself’ kind of event. I was only eighteen, though, so there’s that.” She gave a half-hearted laugh. “Oh, I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on the big engagement! Liam looks so happy, and I spoke with Lana a couple of times tonight. She’s lovely.”

Nora cut a slice of cake from the remnants on a nearby table. “I can’t even wrap my head around it yet! Although part of me wishes he would have waited to announce it sometime other than Josh’s wedding reception, I’m not surprised it happened this way,” Nora chuckled. “That’s my son, though. Flashy, outrageous. A true peacock.” After a sip of champagne, she added, “He waited a long time for Lana, and after finally meeting her today and getting to know her a bit, I can see why. She’s really wonderful, and a perfect match for him.” Nora grabbed a napkin from the table to wipe her eyes. “I can’t believe my son will be getting married!”

“We should all be so lucky to find the right one.” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep the wistful tone from her voice.

Around a mouthful of cake, Nora said, “Well, you and Henry seem to have done that.”

“I don’t know,” Charlotte shrugged. “I mean, I thought so, but⁠—”

“But what?” Nora refilled the glass she had been holding with the last few drops from a bottle of champagne on the table. “Henry is happier than I’ve ever seen him, Charlotte.” Nora took Charlotte’s hand in hers. “I’ve known him since…I don’t know, kindergarten? Maybe before? We shared almost every homeroom in school, so we were friends before I started dating his older brother. He’s always been the careful one…the cautious one. I hope whatever doubts you’re having don’t concern DD. Even if he thought he was in love with her in high school, that was puppy love at best, and his feelings weren’t reciprocated. Besides, he would never have been happy with her. She needed a different kind of man, and that is not my brother-in-law, bless him. I know she’s been acting erratically for the past year, but the truth is, and I’m not defending her, that she’s terrified of losing Burnside. DD talks a big game, but inside she’s a mess of insecurities. Her parents were not the warm, fuzzy kind, and they opposed her marriage to her first husband basically because he was Lakota. Losing Nathaniel,” Nora shook her head, “was traumatic for her, for Effie. She’s been through a lot.”

“Mom.” Liam swooped up behind Nora, hugging her and lifting her off her feet. Nora laughed. “Just wanted to say we are out.” After placing Nora back on firm ground, he kissed her cheek, drawing Lana in to hold her firmly at his side. “Hey, Charlotte, you and Uncle Henry looked good together on the dance floor.”

“Hi, Liam. And Lana, it was nice meeting you,” Charlotte said. “Congratulations to both of you. You both look ecstatic.” To Nora, she said, “I should be going, too. I’ll see you later.”

Nora asked, “Tomorrow, right?” and Charlotte smiled without confirming, unsure of what her future held.

Deflated, Charlotte looked around for Trixie to tell her goodbye, but didn’t see her. The giddy expectation she had this morning of leaving the wedding festivities with Henry hand in hand was gone. Instead, she was alone, and more than likely, would be for the foreseeable future. Intent on providing Henry with as much space and time as he needed to process the revelation that he had a daughter, she would have to put aside any concerns she had about the status of their relationship or about him communicating with his ex, and why he hadn’t told her.

Waving to Tess and Ruth, each in the arms of their husbands, Charlotte opened the door to the main entrance, hoping for a hasty exit. No sooner had she stepped outside when someone asked, “Can we talk?”

Spinning, Charlotte assessed Diadema, looking less glamorous than she had ever seen the woman. Even more shocking was the woman speaking directly to her, something she seemed to have gone out of her way to avoid doing, except for the day Charlotte had surprised her by answering Henry’s door, in his shirt, after they’d made love all night. “I don’t know if now is a good time,” she responded, wanting only to get home so she could finally succumb to the tears she was barely restraining.

Moving closer, Diadema said, “Please.”

The haunted look in her eyes convinced Charlotte to give her some grace. Crossing her arms in front of her, Charlotte waited for Diadema to speak. “I’m listening,” she prodded, when she just stood there.

“It wasn’t intentional, but I heard part of your conversation with Nora, and I want to clear the air. I’m sorry, I really am. There’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting, other than to agree with what Nora said. I’ve lived a privileged life, mostly, but there have been challenges and regrets. Nothing was the same for me after I lost my first husband,” Diadema’s voice broke, “and even though I’ve built a great life with Burnside, there’s this little voice in my head constantly reminding me that maybe I don’t deserve it, that it’s somehow my fault he’s having health issues. It’s the same voice I heard when Nathaniel died. His parents blamed me for his accident, and even though we’ve reconciled, I still hear it, now more than ever.”

Witnessing the other woman’s vulnerability made Charlotte ashamed. She’d always prided herself on understanding people, yet she had chosen to react to Diadema with hostility, almost from day one of meeting her. She should have guessed her bravado was hiding pain, and she wondered if jealousy had colored her perception, causing her to view Diadema in a more unflattering way than she deserved. “I’m sorry, too, for what you went through. Are still going through. It’s hard to lose someone you love.” Diadema nodded, and Charlotte felt a surge of sympathy. “I guess in some ways, I was intimidated by you.”

“Me?” Diadema snickered. “I’m all style and no substance, just ask anyone.” Charlotte remained silent at the self-deprecating remark. “I guess that’s why I went to Henry. Sometimes it seems like he and Nora are the only ones who see me for me. And I’ve probably ruined our friendship with my selfishness.”

“I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I need some assurances, too.” She gave Diadema a serious look, wanting to make sure she was clear. “I respect your past with him will do the same with your friendship, if he wants one. But Henry and I are together, and you need to respect that. I don’t want to feel like we’re competing with each other.”

“Absolutely,” Diadema agreed. “Nora was right. Henry and I would never have been good together. I hope you understand, Charlotte, that I was not trying to ‘get’ Henry. I just needed a friend, but the way I went about it wasn’t right. You know how they say, ‘hurt people hurt people’?” Charlotte nodded. “Well, that was me. And my drinking hasn’t helped.”

“No more pop ins?” Charlotte couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“I can assure you, no more pop ins. I’m incredibly ashamed I did it in the first place. Again, I was insecure and jealous, for lack of a better way to put it. You and Henry are so good together. You suit each other in a way few couples do. Except for my daughter and his son, of course.” Diadema looked back at the restaurant. “I should get Burnside so we can go to the hotel.” She cocked her head at Charlotte. “Maybe we could have lunch together sometime?”

She smiled at Diadema, “I’d like that,” and watched her go back into the building, then started toward her house. This afternoon, when she’d made her way on foot to the park, she had expected to ride home with Henry tonight. Of course, she could have asked someone for a ride, but the last thing she wanted was to explain where Henry was, or why he wasn’t with her. She leaned against an oak tree and removed her sandals, walking the rest of the way home barefoot. Had she made a mistake slipping away without telling him she was leaving? What else could she have done, short of interrupting him? She had to trust that he would come to her when he was ready.

At her house, creamy yellow light bathed her porch, thanks to Henry. The light had flickered on and off since she’d moved in, but after the first night Henry spent at her house, she’d come home from an afternoon at the city swimming pool to find him standing on a footstool, screwdriver in hand, removing the fixture. “Henry,” she had told him, “I’m sure I could get the rental company to take care of that.”

He had merely shrugged. “Why bother with that when I can do it?”

She had laughed, enjoying the sight of him stretching and twisting. When he was done, she drew him off the stool and into her arms, sinking her fingers into the silver curls she loved so much at the back of his head, and he had tossed his screwdriver down onto the small table under the light, both hands sliding over her hips, pulling her body against his, and then lifted her so her mouth could meet his.

Charlotte leaned her forehead against the door before unlocking it, reliving that day. Entering her house, she hung her keys on the hook just inside before heading to her bedroom. Part of her wanted a cup of hot tea, but another longed for nothing more than crawling into bed, consumed with thinking about Henry, worrying for him, for Josh, and for his new daughter.

Letting the dress she had worn to the wedding fall to the floor, she ignored the silky, sexy lingerie at the foot of the bed she had planned to wear for Henry tonight. A pile of his clothing from a couple of days ago was in an easy chair by the window; well, not a pile, really, since, in usual Henry-fashion, he had folded everything up neatly. She padded over to it and brought his white tank to her nose, inhaling his scent: sweet from the honeysuckle shower gel of hers he used, smoky from the coffee beans he roasted with what had to have been vanilla…and was that Irish cream?, and the masculine musk that was uniquely him. Tossing her bra on top of his clothes, she pulled the tank on, comforted by being surrounded by him in this way. Choosing numbness over concern, after brushing her teeth and washing her face, she crept into bed, where she fell into a troubled slumber.

“Mom?” Sophie’s voice quavered, and she fell into Josh as Henry swiveled to meet the gaze of the woman he hadn’t seen in twenty-five years. Sick at the sight of her, nauseous with her betrayal, Melanie was still beautiful, he supposed, but time had worn her down, making her cheeks sunken, which lent to a haggard appearance. Not only was weight missing, but so was the hope that had once sparkled brightly in her blue eyes, a testament to her belief that she would be somebody important one day. Too bad she had never realized that she had been. She’d been the center of the world for two people. Three, if she had stayed.

Melanie glared at Henry. “I tried to prevent all of this, if you had only met up with me. Every call I made to you, begging you to speak to me, to meet with me in person. I tried to warn you she was coming. I wanted to explain-”

“Are you serious right now?” Henry demanded. “You tried to ‘prevent all of this’?” His arm swept out to encompass the scene of their children comforting each other. “You caused this, Melanie! The day you left town, pregnant with my child—my daughter! You had to know, right? That you were pregnant?” She avoided his eyes now, looking somewhere over his shoulder. He snarled as grief and anger collided, “I’m assuming that’s why you left. Couldn’t bear to raise another child with me or be married to me, so you had to run away?”

“Dad!” Josh’s voice was panicked. Even in the days following Melanie’s abandonment, Henry had kept his temper from his son.

“I’m okay,” he assured Josh. To Melanie, he said, “Am I right?”

“No,” Melanie denied, shaking her head. “That’s not what happened.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t walk away from our son? Didn’t leave, pregnant with our daughter, stealing her away from me, from us, from her family?”

“‘Her family’?” Melanie raged, “You mean your family? The one where no one cared about me for the fifteen years I lived there? Only your dad ever gave me the time of day⁠—”

Henry interrupted, “Not this again,” unwilling to listen to her tear his family down. Melanie had been the one to shut them out, time and time again, not the other way around. It had been Melanie who had never been interested in bonding with his sister, or chatting with his mom at family gatherings. Melanie, always reluctant to allow any of Josh’s cousins to stay the night at their place, rarely let him sleep over at their houses. Despite the fact that Henry had tried to convince her to become part of the small-town community in Clover Lake, she had barely left their home.

Josh said softly, “And what about me, Mom? Where did I fit into all of this? Am I your family? Dad’s family? My sister’s family?” Josh, still with his arm around Sophie, gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Because I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that I cared about you. I missed you.” Josh wrenched off the tie he had worn all day, the tie that Charlotte had straightened for him when she had arrived at Henry’s house as they were getting ready for the wedding. Thinking they would all be ready for some light snacks, she brought crackers, triangles of yellow and white Colby-Jack cheese, and rounds of cured summer sausage, fresh from the meat locker on the south end of town. Charlotte had helped Josh to finish getting ready, calming him when his nerves threatened to get the better of him, when it should’ve been his mother there. “I needed my mom!” His voice hoarse, he let loose the anguish he’d contained for the past twenty-five years. “You are the one who didn’t care.”

“Joshua, that’s not true,” Melanie denied. “I left for you, believe it or not. I felt like I was wasting away in Clover Lake, with nothing more to give⁠—”

Sophie interjected, “Well, that certainly explains all I needed to know about my childhood.”

“Sophie, no, you know I didn’t mean that! I gave you the best I could⁠—”

“The best you could?” Sophie’s lovely face twisted. “Without my dad…without my brother. They didn’t even know I existed, Mom. You robbed me of that…robbed us of all of this,” Sophie sobbed.

“I never meant for that to happen. I wanted to tell you for years, Sophie, baby. You don’t understand. I…I didn’t mean to leave! I just needed to get away. My mind was spinning when I found out that I was pregnant again. I couldn’t think in that god-forsaken town, so I took the bus to Omaha. I called Casey, and she met me there. I never meant to stay away, or go anywhere else, but then too much time passed.” Melanie ducked her head, running a hand through her still-blonde hair.

“Casey? Casey met you in Omaha? From Florida? That doesn’t sound like a spur-of-the-moment decision. That sounds like planning, my dear.” Henry quaked with fury. “And don’t forget about the divorce papers you took the time to file in Sioux Falls.”

“No, you don’t understand! Henry, you told me repeatedly that one day I would get to live out my dreams⁠—”

He snorted, “What? Of going to California? You were never serious about that.” Surely, she must have realized by now what a ridiculous pipe dream that had been. She’d never even taken an acting class. He had encouraged her to at least volunteer with the drama program at Clover Lake High School, or to take part in the community theatre, but she’d told him that was beneath her; instead, she sulked around the house, not even getting about a job. Not once had she ever acknowledged his own ambitions, dreams that he had forgone so he could provide for her and their son.

“That was the problem, Henry; you never took me seriously! How could I live in that environment?” Her eyes left him to focus on their son. “Joshua, leaving you was not a choice I made. I never meant to be gone forever. Please—” she started toward Josh, then, but he shook his head and backed up to escape her.

“No. You don’t get to hug me. Not today. My long-lost mother, showing up out of the blue on my wedding day. But wait—you didn’t actually come to see me get married, did you? Oh no! You came to, what? Try and stop my dad and me from learning about my sister?” Henry’s heart wrenched as Josh, tears coursing down his cheeks, sought the comfort of his new wife, also crying as she held Josh to her. “Let’s go,” he said to Effie. “I don’t want to start our life together like this.”

“Joshua, please—” Melanie started.

Henry cut her off. “Let him go.” To Josh, he said, “Why don’t you and Effie say your goodbyes to anyone who is still inside?” Inside. Where he had last seen Charlotte. His heart twisted. What must she be thinking? How was he going to explain any of this to her? “I’ll finish up out here.” With no idea how long he’d been outside, he cast Melanie a scathing glance. “I think we’re all too damned tired for this.”

Effie nodded. “That’s a good idea. We can go to our honeymoon suite, Josh.” The newlyweds had reserved a room for the next few nights at the Beverley Arms B&B, the nicest place in town, with a view of the river that ran perpendicular to the town. Henry doubted they’d enjoy any of it now. Effie hugged him, whispering, “I love you.” She then took Sophie’s hand in hers, drawing her new sister-in-law in for a hug. “Welcome to the family.” Uncertainty on her face, Effie studied Melanie before turning and going up the stairs.

Josh embraced Henry tightly and then turned to Sophie. “Do you want to come with us?”

“No, thank you. I’ll stay here.” They clasped hands and then, without glancing at his mother, Josh followed his wife.

Once Josh and Effie had left, Henry addressed Sophie. “I don’t know where you’re staying, but you are more than welcome to come to my house. You can have the place to yourself, if you wish, or I can stay there, too.” Desperate to provide something for his daughter in the way of support, Henry was determined not to dwell on the past, and would move heaven and earth to forge a relationship with her from this moment on. He planned to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart that could have held his daughter for the past quarter of a century.

“I’ve been staying at the Holiday Suites,” Sophie informed him, “for the past week. But I plan to look for an apartment here, if that’s okay with you and Josh.” At Henry’s shocked expression, she explained, “I figure I’ll stick around for a while. Get to know my dad, my brother.”

Melanie gasped, “Sophie, no! You can’t stay here.”

“I think the last thing you will do is keep my daughter from me for any longer.” He scowled at Melanie before gathering Sophie close, unable to stop the flow of tears. “I can’t wait to get to know you, my beautiful daughter. There’s so much I—” he stopped himself, afraid of overwhelming her. “It’s been a long day. You’re sure about the hotel?” At her nod, he said, “I’ll stop in tomorrow and take care of the bill. Do you want a ride over there?”

“No, I’m okay.” Sophie kissed his cheek, and he yearned for the unknown number of affectionate gestures his ex-wife had robbed him of over the years. She sighed. “Mom, if you think you can behave yourself, you can stay with me tonight.” Henry’s pride swelled, knowing that Sophie had his forgiving heart.

Melanie’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Soph. I always wanted to tell you⁠—”

Sophie shook her head. “I’m really not interested in hearing excuses, though, and we will have an intense conversation about this tomorrow. But,” Sophie sighed again, “you are still my mother, and I love you. I’m sure you have some messed-up reason for doing what you did that makes sense to only you.”

“Thank you, baby,” Melanie bowed her head, then looked over to Henry. “Can we talk a bit more?”

“I have little to say to you right now.” With Sophie taken care of, all he wanted, all he needed, was to find Charlotte, surround himself in her loving embrace, and sleep for the rest of the night. To Sophie, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and with one last hug and a kiss to her forehead, he left, without sparing Melanie a backward glance, much the same way she had left him so many years ago.

At long last, using the key Charlotte had given him, Henry let himself into her house, craving the comfort and peace that he could only find with her. Disappointed to find her gone from the dance, he was hoping to find her still awake, but his shoulders fell when he entered her bedroom to find her curled on her side in bed, aglow from moonlight streaming in through the French doors, with the sheets tangled around her waist. Heartbeat accelerating at the sight of her wearing his undershirt, her chest straining the cotton, he fumbled to remove his own clothing. In just his boxers, he slipped into bed behind her, spooning her as closely as he could.

“Henry.” Half asleep, the heat from his chest burned into her back, “I was having the most delicious dream about you, and now you’re here.” Without him next to her, she had tossed and turned.

“I’m here,” he assured her, every emotion from today charging through him: joy, shock, sadness, guilt, and betrayal; the anger he had pushed away once he crossed into the bedroom. With Charlotte, could he find the clarity he desperately needed? Fingers on the soft swell of her stomach, he groaned as her bottom dug into his groin when she scooted even closer to him. “Charlotte,” he breathed into her ear, her small hoop earring tickling his mouth.

With his solid strength behind her, still drowsy from her dream of him, she awoke aroused and ground herself into the evidence that he felt the same. His hand drifted from her stomach, over her hips, across her thighs, and she opened her knees to grant him better access, desiring him to the point of madness.

Lush thighs enveloped his hand, he shivered, discovering she was ready for him. Rolling onto her back, her hands reached for the hem of the tank she wore, ready to pull it off, when he stilled her. “Don’t,” he commanded, his voice husky with need. Ripe and sensual, the sight of her in his shirt drove him to insanity. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.” His lips descended to the swells of her breasts as his thumbs dragged down her underwear, his fingers seeking her heat.

Charlotte tugged insistently at his hair, but she couldn’t deter Henry, and his mouth followed his hands, her hips lifting from the bed. “Henry,” she implored, until he rose above her quivering form, with her thighs in his hands. They matched each other, thrust for thrust, her cloudy brown gaze capturing his stormy blue one. “I love you,” she thought, and he collapsed into her arms.

“Charlotte, if that was too rough or if you weren’t expecting⁠—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, his head on her chest, her hand stroking his back. “I knew you’d come to me. When I woke up with you here—” Tears clogged her voice, and she was afraid to continue in case her emotions overwhelmed him. He’d already dealt with so much and didn’t need the burden of her expressing the depth of her feelings.

“Hey.” He raised his head, thumbing a tear from the corner of her eye. “What’s the matter?”

Unable to keep what she had gleaned tonight to herself, she admitted, “I know, Henry.”

Henry stilled, his hand cupping Charlotte’s cheek. Dread filled him. “Know what?” Could she have found out about Sophie? Had she seen Melanie with him? What would her reaction be to it all?

“I know about your daughter, Henry…Sophie.” Charlotte ached with empathy. “I was coming to find you, and I heard you outside.”

Bringing himself up on his elbow, he met her eyes; the chocolate orbs swam with understanding. “You did?”

“I’m so sorry. Just finding out now, after all these years, I can’t imagine how you must feel. I’m assuming her mother is…Melanie?” A shadow crossed Henry’s handsome face. Was any of this her business? Should she have waited for him to tell her? “Never mind,” she rushed on, “we don’t have to talk about it.” She regretted they hadn’t discussed their relationship before now, ironed out what they were to each other, because she had no claim on his information.

Sitting up against Charlotte’s headboard, with the sheet at his waist, he confirmed, “Sophie. She’s my daughter.” His hand held Charlotte’s. “And yes, Melanie is Sophie’s mom. It seems that when my ex-wife left us, she was pregnant. Claims she had no choice. At least, that’s what she said tonight.” Disgust bloomed in Henry once again for his ex and her excuses, after spending too long outside listening to her, with mascara staining her face, when the only truth he needed to know was that she had kept his daughter from him. Had it not been for Sophie figuring it out, he would still be in the dark about her.

“Tonight? What do you mean?” Apprehensive, her stomach twisted. “Did you talk to her?”

Dragging a hand over his face, knowing there was no way to avoid it, he confirmed, “Yes. She showed up tonight.”

“What? Here?” It was one thing for him to hear from her on the phone, but for Melanie to have the audacity to show up in person? Henry had been right all along to be worried, Charlotte thought.

“When I was outside with Sophie and Josh, somehow she found us and started in on me right away. Accused me of making her feel trapped and confused, which is why she left me…why she kept my daughter from me. Said she never fit in with my family, that no one cared about her. She also said she was wasting away in Clover Lake and that I stole her dreams from her.”

Thinking back on her own shock at discovering that she was pregnant at eighteen, Charlotte couldn’t help but identify with some of what Melanie must have felt back then: all hopes for her future gone, all her self-worth determined instead by her value as a parent and wife. And then having to face another unplanned pregnancy? It would overwhelm anyone. Trying to ease some of Henry’s pain, she gently told him, “I’m obviously not agreeing that she had a right to blame you, but I guess I can understand, a little, what must have been going through her mind.”

Henry recoiled. “What was going through her mind was the idea that she should abandon our son and leave with my unborn child. All because she had some childish dream of moving to Hollywood.” He choked out a laugh. “I mean, how ridiculous does that sound? How juvenile? If she had been open with me, we could have talked it through. I could have helped her, made her remember that I once had dreams, too. Dreams that I gave up for her…for our family…but she never cared about those, or what I went through.” Covering his face with his hands, he gave himself over to his grief. “She kept my child from me, Charlotte, and instead of apologizing, at the very least, she insinuated it was my fault.”

With Charlotte’s own tears streaming, she questioned, “Is that why she’s been calling you?”

Henry held his breath, hoping he’d misheard Charlotte. He’d been so careful, hadn’t he? “What do you mean?” Why had he said that? Why hadn’t he just admitted the truth now, when he had the chance?

“It’s okay, Henry, I know Melanie has been calling you…texting you. Ruth and Tess let it slip at the dance.” Her eyes on him, she saw the guilt flash across his face. “I wish you had said something. I could have been there for you. If I’m being honest, it hurt when they told me. I guess I thought…”

Her brown eyes gleamed with hurt, and shame filled him. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. You’re right, I should have been honest with you. It’s just…her phone calls were so vague, she never said anything concrete, the same as her texts. I just thought she was trying to annoy me…get under my skin.” Even now, when he and Charlotte should be relishing the afterglow of their lovemaking, Melanie was a dark cloud. “All she does is bring up old hurts. It’s like she gets off telling me how everyone slighted her when we were married, accusing me of not paying attention to her, of ignoring her feelings. If I’d had any indication that the reason she was contacting me was to let me in on the fact I had a daughter, I might have been a bit more receptive.” Growing more agitated, Henry sprang to his feet, grabbing his clothes from the floor. Discussing his ex while in bed naked with the woman he loved didn’t sit right with him.

Was Henry upset with her? Charlotte’s parents had rarely argued, maybe because she was an only child, or they were older, or they had enough money; whatever the reason. In her own marriage, nothing, really, ever seemed important enough for them to fight over. It unsettled her that Henry was so angry with Melanie, probably because she could sympathize with her in some ways. Melanie was just a child, really, when she moved to Henry’s hometown. The two teenagers had only known each other for a couple of months before getting married. She and Brady had known each other most of their lives, and they had still been unprepared for building a family or becoming adults together.

“And what about Diadema?” Charlotte was still troubled learning about his feelings for her, no matter how long ago it was. How had that affected Melanie’s fragile sense of self? Even now, decades later, when he was no longer “in love with” the other woman, she still affected him.

Henry shot Charlotte a befuddled look. “DD?” Why would Charlotte be asking about her?

“Yes, what role did she play in Melanie leaving?” Unable to watch his reaction, she smoothed the sheets around her.

Henry let out an exasperated laugh and declared, “Absolutely none! She was barely around. Mellie hardly knew her.”

Mellie? Another nickname, another woman, and the parallels between the two women from his past disturbed her. “According to what I heard from Ruth and Tess, Melanie was convinced you still had feelings for Diadema.” A slight pause, and then she forced her eyes to his face. “Did you?”

Henry shook his head. “No! I swear to you, no. Whatever I felt for her was gone when I met Melanie.” Henry sat down on the edge of the bed, aware that he was probably overly sensitive after the events of tonight. All he wanted was to be with Charlotte: kind, sensitive, brilliant, and for some reason, fighting a fight that wasn’t hers. “Why are you bringing this up? You know I don’t care for DD.”

“That’s why—I don’t know that! You have dropped everything for her, more than once, and even after I practically engraved an invitation for you, I still didn’t hear from you for months.” At his confused look, she reminded him, “That day in the diner, when you were with Diadema. I told you to call me. But you didn’t.” Not stopping until she’d let it all out, she continued, “I had to throw myself at you in the coffee shop instead, a year later. Because I wanted you—wanted to get to know you, to get close to you…to be with you.”

Henry crawled over her comforter to take her hand. “That’s what I wanted, too. You were the only woman-”

“But I wasn’t, was I? Not if you all but ignored me so you could rescue Diadema.” Distressed, she threw her hands up in the air. “Frankly, Henry, if this is even a portion of what Melanie felt, I can see why she left.”

As if physically attacked, Henry’s head snapped back. “Wow. Okay. Siding with my ex-wife was not what I thought you would do. I can’t—” Stumbling to his feet, Henry couldn’t keep the pain from his voice when he spoke. “I put my life on hold for Melanie. Do you think I wanted to be a mechanic my entire life? I was supposed to go to college…medical school. I wanted to be a doctor. Melanie didn’t care, not once, about what I gave up. Then I had to start my life over—made Josh start his over, too—when she left us.” Choking on his own tears, he forced himself to keep talking, “I made him lie about his mother, tell everyone here that she had died instead of admitting she walked out on us! And now I find out the reason she did that was because she couldn’t bear the idea of raising another child with me. As if life with me was so terrible. And now to have you sympathize with her…side with her? I thought you cared about me, Charlotte!” Bereft, he slid his feet into his shoes.

“Henry, no!” Too tangled in the sheets to race after him, he was out of her house by the time she finally freed herself enough to put her shorts on. “Henry!” Begging the fates to have him still in her driveway, she called out again, “Henry,” as she twisted the handle on her door, only to witness him turning the corner on the next block, disappearing from her sight in the early dawn. What had she done? Weeping as her legs collapsed under her, she regretted ever saying anything about Melanie or Diadema. “I do care about you, Henry,” she sobbed to the closed door. “I love you.” Her confession fruitless now, she doubted he would ever look past this, not after what had been said, or how she had made him feel.

Reeling as he left Charlotte’s house, Henry blindly drove the streets of the town he had loved for a quarter of a century while his tears ran unchecked. Her words had stung, but what made them so cutting was that it wasn’t the first time he’d heard them; he’d been repeating them to himself since the day Melanie had left. Over time, it became easier to blame her for leaving than to examine how he’d driven her away. What he loathed to admit was that he’d been just as unhappy as she in their marriage.

Once and for all, he wanted— no, needed—closure with his ex-wife. The only way to get that was through answers, and he made a U-turn. After pulling up to the Holiday Suites, Henry texted:

We need to talk.

I’m in front of the hotel.

Dots flickered in response, yet no message came. Instead, several minutes later, the revolving door leading from the hotel lobby spun. “Let’s walk to the diner.” Henry was curt when Melanie came out, and after she shot him a surprised look, the two made their way three blocks over to Betsy’s Diner without speaking.

A lifetime of gentlemanly behavior had him holding the door open for Melanie, earning him a shocked glance in return. “Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Henry bristled with annoyance.

“Hi, Henry,” Sissy, one of Beverley’s best information spreaders, greeted them as they entered. By noon, at least fifty people would know about him being here with an unknown woman, and he cringed thinking about it. “Table for two?”

He had to get this over with, so he confirmed, “Yes, please.”

“Drove past the park yesterday. That was some wedding Josh had. Of course, I’m not upset I didn’t get an invitation, ‘cause I had to work and all.” Sissy snapped her gum. “Here ya go.”

As if things couldn’t be more depressing, they were at the booth he had last occupied with DD, and there was no way he could face adding another memory to it, so he pointed to the next one over. “Actually, do you mind if we sit there?”

“Whatever you want, Henry. Coffees?”

He nodded, but Melanie requested, “Tea, please, English breakfast, if you have it.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Never knew you to be a tea drinker.”

“Just put that on the list of things you never paid attention to. All the time you were obsessed with coffee, I could never stand the stuff.”

He slid onto the banquette. “I stand corrected.” He sipped from the ice water Sissy had placed before him. “Before we go any further, I want it known that I am only here for our children. I would have been happy never speaking to you again.”

“Well, clearly I misspoke earlier.” Melanie frowned. “You have changed. When did you get so harsh, Henry?”

“Probably around the time that you left me and our son, without a word,” Henry sneered, “and then I find out I have a secret daughter that you kept from me? Stole from me⁠—”

Melanie held up a hand. “Okay, please, you’re right. I don’t need my list of transgressions read to me again.” Sissy placed their drinks on the table and, when neither of them was interested in ordering anything else, left them alone. “Sophie fell asleep just before you texted me, exhausted from reading me the riot act.”

Henry studied her. In the diner lighting, her once brilliantly blonde hair had a brassy sheen to it; her face still wore traces of her makeup from the day before. Melanie purred, “Like what you see, Henry?” At his beleaguered sigh, she followed quickly with: “Relax, I’m only kidding. I know you’re taken.”

Stopping his hand from raising his coffee cup any further, Henry glared at her. “Excuse me?”

She smiled slyly. “This afternoon at the wedding. I saw you with someone.”

“What do you mean? Were you there?”

Melanie gave a small laugh. “Of course I was—I tucked myself far enough away from everyone so I could see the ceremony. Couldn’t hear a damn thing, but at least I got to see our son get married.” Leaning back, shook her head as she drank her tea. “God, Henry, did you really think I wouldn’t be there for it? After Joshua moved back here, when your dad told me all about Effie and how perfect they were together, I knew it would only be a matter of time. Sophie isn’t the only one who knows how to do an internet search.”

“Did Sophie know you were there?”

“Are you kidding me? She is so straight-laced and stubborn. Would’ve locked me in the house if she’d known I was comin’.”

“And all those calls and texts from you?”

“I really was trying to tell you about her.” She averted her eyes and poured more milk into her tea. “You looked happy today.” She looked back up, eyes glittering. “Do you know how long it had been, when we were together, since I had seen you that way?” Melanie sipped her tea and remarked, “Obviously, you were happy where Joshua was concerned, but as for me?” Tears flowed down her face, stunning Henry. “I would have killed to have you look at me the way you looked at her.”

Flabbergasted and frustrated, Henry pointed out, “I did—you just chose not to see it. All you focused on was what you were missing.” Sipping his coffee, Henry admitted softly, “You almost broke me when you left. I didn’t understand why you would just abandon us. All I ever wanted to do was make us work. As a family.”

“You’re right, Henry,” she concurred, to his amazement. Where was the woman from every contentious phone call, every terse, demanding text? “Believe it or not, I’ve regretted that every day of my life since. I’m so sorry, more than you can imagine. I was selfish…hell, I still am, just ask Sophie.” Melanie blew her nose on a napkin. “I’ve made so many mistakes, but the worst one was leaving you.” He felt an unwelcome pang of empathy as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. “But I struggled every day. I was so lonely, in so much pain, I wished, just once, that you’d see it. “

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Part of him always believed she reveled in her discontent, like a suffering heroine.

“I did! You refused to acknowledge it!” At his shaking head, she went on, “Henry, all I did was complain!” Melanie dragged her hands over her face. “What did you think I was doing? Just bitchin’ so I could hear myself talk?”

Yes, he thought, and to prove her point about how much she hated living with him. Inhaling deeply, his eyes caught hers, and the hurt he had refused to acknowledge years ago pained him now. “I apologize, Melanie. I guess I internalized it all as proof that you didn’t think I was good enough for you—that our life was good enough. I knew I let you down when I stayed working at my dad’s shop, and that you were disappointed I didn’t go to college like I had planned; that you thought I took the easy way. But do you know how hard it was for me when we moved to Clover Lake? I had sworn, when I left that summer, that I would never work there again. Never get grease under my nails or wear coveralls for the next thirty years⁠—”

“You never said! You always just acted like you were fine with it!”

“Well, I wasn’t!” Henry exploded, slamming his hand on the table and rattling the silverware. “You weren’t the only one disappointed in me! I was, too. My brother was. My parents were. I should have been a doctor!” Henry allowed his pain and anger to surface briefly before gaining control again. “But I did what I had to do. For you,” he told her pointedly. “For Josh.” His eyes filled with tears. “I would have done the same for Sophie.”

“I know, and that’s why I had to leave. I was terrified of being left behind—by you, by Joshua. The older he got, the more he would become yours; that much was evident. He wouldn’t be mine anymore. He’d see everything that I wasn’t.” She sobbed; the vulnerability she’d hidden beneath her swagger and dreams staggered him. “I needed to get away, and I swear to you that it was only supposed to be for a break—not forever. I called my sister because I needed someone in my corner.” Melanie picked up another napkin. “I’d been sendin’ her money so she could come visit sometime, not aid in my escape.” Her voice broke. “I felt so alone, and I missed her so much.”

In retrospect, Henry could see that what he had mistaken for petulance or indifference to him—her withdrawn silence, irritability, disinterest in almost anything except their son—had more than likely been depression. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Make me understand?”

Melanie shrugged. “The more miles I put between me and Clover Lake, the freer I felt. I never even told Casey I was pregnant. When I was six months along, she asked me outright. Nagged me for years to tell you about Sophie, but I wouldn’t listen. She and I had a huge blowup when Sophie was eleven about it.” Melanie spun her spoon in her hand. “Casey wrote you a letter that I found in her bedroom. She’d been actin’ suspicious for a while, askin’ little things about your family. I figured she was up to somethin’, but I never imagined she’d betray me. So, I ripped it up and confronted her. She stormed out, called me a liar, told me she was plannin’ on movin’ out anyway—said she’d met a man, fallen in love.”

Slumping against the banquette, his ex-wife’s admission altered his reality. If she had been honest. If he had listened. If Casey had sent him that letter. What would he have done? Stormed down to wherever they lived, demanding to see his daughter? Shown Melanie more grace before she had left? Yet, Melanie’s words had stirred something else, and he confronted her, “But you did want to leave. You were always talking about California⁠—”

“That was all of us! Yes, I wanted out of South Dakota, but I wanted us to go together, as a family. For once, I wanted to be first on your list of priorities.”

“Can’t you see how impossible that would have been? Moving to California? That wasn’t realistic, Melanie.”

“What dreams are? I just wanted the chance…I just wanted to be taken seriously. For once. And you couldn’t give me that.”

“We were kids, we had no money, we thought you were pregnant⁠—”

“And what about when I wasn’t? We had only been married a few weeks by then. You had made some money in your dad’s shop, and we still had the money from the Grand Canyon. We weren’t tied down there. We didn’t have to stay!”

“I made money, but that wasn’t enough! My parents let us live in that apartment rent-free. Do you have any idea what rent in LA would have cost?”

“Okay, then what about years later? After we got our own place? You were making good money then, working overtime⁠—”

“And Josh was in school! You actually think we should have ripped him away from his life? His family?”

“Well, I was his family, too.” She tossed the spoon down, and it clattered on the table. “Henry, I was your family. All your talk about family, but it should have been the three of us as your main concern, not the entire Livingston family.”

As much as Henry hated to admit it, his ex-wife had a point, something he would have refused to acknowledge twenty-five years ago. Shamefully, he admitted to himself that he had expected Melanie to just fit right in with his family. With a heavy heart, he said, “I’m sorry. I never considered how difficult it must have been for you, having to fit into my world. My family can be…a lot.” Sometimes, even for Henry, another reason he’d been able to breathe after moving to Beverley. As much as he loved them, he needed the space of forty miles.

“Yeah, but they love you so much, which also hurt. I wasn’t familiar with that unconditional love, except from my sister. Your dad, though, was good to me. Still is. Probably too good, considering all the pain I caused; I’ll forever be grateful to him.” Her hand crept across the table until it rested on his. “When you said they were disappointed by you, that wasn’t true. All I ever saw…ever heard…was pride when anyone talked about you.”

Tears pricking his eyes, Henry had one more topic to clear up with his ex, as Charlotte’s words about DD came back to him. Now that he was in a better headspace, her perspective held even more weight for him. He could see how it may have seemed in the beginning of his relationship with Charlotte that every time he helped DD, he was choosing DD, but he hadn’t been. For the woman he’d known most of his life, he’d only felt empathy, nothing more. A harder truth was that he had probably made himself available to help her because he had feared what he felt for Charlotte. What if he fell in love with her, finally ready for something significant, but she had merely wanted a flirty fling? What if he just wasn’t the kind of man women love? “You need to know that when we were together, there was never anyone else for me. I was never interested in DD⁠—”

Melanie held up a hand and shook her head. “I know that now, but I didn’t when we were together. The truth is, we weren’t right together. For many reasons.” She drew a shaky breath. “I have a lifetime of regrets, but leaving Joshua and not telling you about Sophie are by far the worst. I realized, far too late, that I could have—should have—made different decisions, and that’s why I stayed away. I didn’t know where to start or if you’d even let me.”

And every call and text from her, he’d met with aggression and hostility. “I should have at least listened when you first called.”

“I was a bitch. I wanted, deep down, a reason to be pissed at you, so I came at you first. Oldest trick in the book, learned at my mama’s knee.” Melanie held his gaze. “Sophie is so much like you, Henry. Gentle, forgiving. Kind. Didn’t get any of that from me.”

In her blue eyes, he read sincerity. Their past was painful, but not all of it, because they had shared enough love to create two children, and for that, he would be grateful to her. “I hope you won’t fight with her about staying here? Letting Josh and me get to know her?”

Melanie chuckled, “Good lord, I could not stop that girl from doing whatever she wanted. Your daughter is a very determined young woman who clearly stops at nothin’ to get what she wants.”

His daughter…Henry’s heart fluttered, still not used to the idea. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “she gets that from her mother.” Having spent so many years angry and resentful whenever he thought about his ex-wife, he chose grace.

“Maybe, but she gets her loyalty and vast amounts of love from her father.”

Henry squeezed her hand then. Sissy stopped at their table, asking if they needed anything else. “Just the check, please.” Henry looked at his watch.

“I guess tomorrow will be an early day. Are Joshua and Euphemie leaving for a honeymoon?” Melanie inquired, tapping her fingernails on the side of her empty cup.

“She goes by Effie now,” he corrected, “and no, not until the day after. They’re flying to Chicago and going to drive Route Sixty-Six, spend a couple of weeks on the open road. Tomorrow everyone is planning on going to the state fair in Huron.”

“That sounds like fun.” Melanie’s voice was wistful. “Henry, Joshua is so magnificent. Such an incredible man.” She bowed her head, wiping at her eyes. “You should be so proud.”

“I am,” he said, “and a lot of it goes to you, too. I may not have appreciated it well enough back then, but you were a wonderful mother to him…until…”

“Yeah, that part.” Melanie finished her tea and stared into the empty cup. “Henry, those last few weeks before I left, when you said you were workin’ overtime at your dad’s shop, where were you? What were you really doing?”

Henry flushed. With Josh at his cousin’s so often, Henry had dreaded going home to face the discontent Melanie had not bothered to hide. “I was building.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was using the woodshed at Mom and Dad’s. I needed something more, too.” His parents’ house was one block from the auto shop, and one early evening, instead of going home, he’d detoured there. “In high school, I used to spend hours there, so I just began making things. First a magazine rack, then a bookcase for Mom’s cookbooks. I was starting a small desk for Josh when…”

“When I left,” Melanie whispered. “I didn’t know. I just knew that you were spending less and less time at home, and then when I found out you had lied about working late…it was too much.”

“You’re right.” Henry exhaled deeply. “I pushed my unhappiness down, tried to bury it because I didn’t want to face it. I accept my part in what happened between us,” he rubbed some of the stiffness out of his neck, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook keeping my daughter from me. Or for abandoning our son.”

She nodded. “You’re right, there’s no excuse for anything I’ve done that has hurt my children, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

They sat together quietly, each lost in their thoughts, until Henry stood. “I need to get back.” He left it at that, unwilling to discuss his private life with Melanie.

“To whoever that was I saw you with at the wedding?” Melanie slid out of the booth. “I hope, whoever she is, that she deserves you, Henry. Because I know I didn’t.” Henry worried he didn’t deserve Charlotte, after the way he’d stormed out of her house.

Walking out of the diner, he said, “Look, Josh and Effie are opening their presents at the Cattleman’s Club around noon. I’m sure if you wanted to stop by, that would be okay.”

Melanie’s breath whistled. “Somehow, I think it will take more than a brief family gathering for Joshua to forgive me, if he ever does. And I doubt anyone, except for your father, will welcome me with open arms.”

Henry turned. “It’ll take Josh time to work through his feelings. He can be a bit stubborn. Not sure where he gets that…?”

In the early morning, with the soft orange and yellow rays of sunlight flickering in the east, Melanie chuckled softly, making her resemble the girl he had loved so long ago. “Me, neither.”

In companionable silence, they walked back to the hotel. “You’re probably right that it’s too soon to face everyone. I know eventually Josh will let you back in. But it may take some time.”

She nodded. “I won’t stop trying.” At the entrance to the hotel, she opened her purse and pulled out an envelope. “I wrote Joshua a letter, tried to explain things so he’d understand. Or at least not hate me. Gave him my phone number, address. Sophie knows where he’s staying, and I’m going to drop it off there in the morning. I’ll give him time to process everything, but if I don’t hear from him, I’ll try again.” Melanie held his gaze, and for the briefest moment, Henry was back in Arizona, that boy on the bench outside the ice cream shop. “I’ll see you around, Henry.” Then she was gone, but at least she’d said goodbye this time.

Although Amy had been invited to the wedding of the year, she couldn’t attend Josh and Effie’s ceremony because of a scheduling conflict at the hospital. She was, however, on her way to Beverley for the rest of the wedding festivities. Or she would be once she got breakfast. Desperately needing sustenance to make the two-hour drive, Amy was waiting in the Hardee’s drive-thru when the first text from Lottie came in:

Heartbroken.

Heartbroken? Not once during her divorce had her best friend referred to herself as heartbroken. What could be wrong?

I messed up with Henry.

Amy was clueless what Lottie could mean by “messed up with Henry”. Every report from her friend about her blossoming relationship with Henry was so promising, romantic, and, more importantly, sexy. Amy had suspected for years that Lottie was hiding a temptress underneath her upbeat demeanor—she had just needed the right man to inspire her, and that man was clearly Henry.

I need my friend!

“Call Lottie,” Amy ordered, panicked and hands-free in her car. As the call rang, the teenager in the window extended a skinny arm holding her bag that contained her life-saving Frisco sausage melt and tater rounds. Why wasn’t Lottie answering? Pulling away from Hardee’s, Amy yelled, “Dammit! Cancel call!” She wished she was actually holding her phone so she could throw it onto the passenger seat. She voice-texted:

I’m on my way!

Lottie’s move to Beverley had been the most impulsive thing her friend had done in the history of their friendship, and Amy was still proud as hell of her for making such a monumental change in her life. As teenagers, while holding Lottie’s hand in a gas station bathroom, she watched in terror as the line on the pregnancy test confirmed their worst fears. It had been Amy, not Lottie’s mom, who had warned her repeatedly about using birth control, only to be dismissed that she and Brady were being careful, which Amy had known it for the bullshit it was. Hormonal teenagers, especially ones with overly permissive parents, weren’t known for taking preventative measures. Since Amy had to read the pregnancy test results before Lottie, she’d been the one to vomit first at the pregnancy news, knowing that every plan the two of them had made went down the toilet with her morning bowl of cereal.

When Lottie and Brady finally pulled their heads out of their asses and got divorced, Amy gleefully lifted a glass of champagne, if only privately. Just as Lottie was her sister, she loved Brady as a brother, but those two had been white-knuckling that marriage since exchanging their vows, going from horny teenagers to old married couple in the blink of an eye. Both had been seemingly uninterested in their own love lives…until Brady met Harmony. Courtesy of Amy.

A year before their divorce, Amy had shown up at Brady and Lottie’s house to return a book she had borrowed. Only Brady was home, slapping a joystick around in the living room. “Brady, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon—what are you doing?”

“I’m on vacation,” he responded, surprising her, because Lottie hadn’t mentioned it.

“Does your wife know about this?”

Brady shrugged, his eyes not leaving the television screen. “I suggested taking a trip, but she said she couldn’t get away. Typical, I guess…”

His scathing tone burned, but Amy understood. The idea that Lottie “couldn’t get away” was preposterous—the school was on summer break, making Amy wonder if Lottie was avoiding her husband while they both had time off from work. Had Lottie finally realized that the marriage had outlasted itself by at least two decades? Would she ever admit it?

Brady threw his gaming tool onto the sofa next to him. “I’m just so bored all the time, Ames. So…unfulfilled. Char never wants to go out or do anything, and I can’t…I can’t seem to make her happy anymore. I hear Isobel talking about her dating life, and part of me is thankful to have missed the drama as a teenager, but now…sorry, you don’t want to hear the ramblings of your best friend’s husband, I’m sure.”

“Hey, my best friend’s husband has been my friend for longer than either of us wants to admit. I mean, I was the one who had to stand on the sidelines at our eighth-grade graduation dance, watching the two of you make moon-eyes at each other, remember?”

Leaning back, Brady rubbed his hand across his face. “I remember. I thought I would love her until the end of time.”

“And?” Amy already knew the answer, which had been glaringly obvious once Isobel had gone to college. Even Amy had been biding her time, as her advice over the years to Lottie had fallen on deaf ears: wait to marry Brady; go to college the semester after Isobel was born; live your own life. And something she’d said only once to her friend: find true love with a true partner, something Amy had struggled with in both of her own marriages.

“She never wants to talk about how unhappy we both are, which is ironic because for so many years that’s all she wanted to talk about. Wait—is that ironic? Or is it just frustrating?”

“Both, I imagine, but we need our English teacher here. Where is she, anyway?”

Brady shrugged. “No idea. She was gone when I got up.”

“Brady, you need some daylight on that handsome face of yours,” she nudged. “There’s a Lakota exhibit at the Art Center that I haven’t had a chance to see yet. Why don’t you come with me?”

Begrudgingly, he accompanied her, and after viewing the exhibit, featuring both breathtaking and heartbreaking paintings, stunning sculptures, and colorful, intricate beadwork by modern Native artists, Amy drifted to another area, leaving Brady on his own. Later, hoping to suggest a bite to eat at the nearby Culver’s, she found him, to her amazement, in deep conversation with Harmony, the museum director. Amy had met Harmony a few years before after her father suffered a stroke and became a patient of Amy’s at the hospital. Thanks to the many hours Harmony spent with her widowed father, the two became friendly. Observing Brady and Harmony at the museum that day, their interest in each other was clearly evident. On the ride back to his house, Brady was more withdrawn than previously, unlike the upbeat man she had witnessed at the museum with Harmony. Unsure of what to do, whether she should talk to Brady or give Lottie a heads-up about what she had seen, she decided to stay silent, letting nature run its course. A few weeks after that museum visit, Brady admitted to Amy that he couldn’t get Harmony out of his head, and Amy advised him to be honest with Lottie and himself about the state of their marriage. A week later, Brady asked for a separation.

Passing the state line into South Dakota, Amy attempted to call her friend again, but still got no answer. Wondering what could have gone wrong with Henry and Lottie during a weekend filled with a wedding and romance, she thought back to the first time her friend had seen Henry outside the auto shop, and how palpable her hunger for him had been. Undeniably handsome, Henry also exuded an element of…sadness, maybe, or melancholy, that spoke to Lottie’s own unhappiness. From that first moment, Amy considered that what her lifelong friend needed after her divorce wasn’t the “freedom” Lottie claimed she had always yearned for, but someone who matched her in spirit, fire, and depth of soul.

One Fleetwood Mac album later, along with a radio station playing R&B hits from the 90s, she arrived in Beverley. Waving at Juan and Ashley outside the bakery, two people she’d gotten to know since Henry and Lottie began dating, someone tapped on her passenger window at a stoplight. She smiled at Adam and rolled the window down. “Hey, stranger, what’s up?”

Adam replied, “Just taking some pastries home to Paul. Where were you yesterday? We missed you at the wedding!”

“I know! Work stuff, but I’m here for a couple of days! Will I see you later?”

“Definitely! Oh, there’s your light.”

“Tell Paul hi from me!”

At Lottie’s, Amy parked in the driveway and marveled at the homey touches at the front of her house, like the petunias in the window boxes hanging from the porch railing and the little sign that read “Welcome” at the base of the stairs she bounded up to reach the front door. She rang the bell but got no answer. When there was still no Lottie after knocking twice, she grew more concerned. “Where are you?”

Using the spare key her friend had given her, she let herself in. Maybe Lottie and Henry had made up or cleared the air about whatever caused her angst earlier? She hoped that was the case, as only her footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor broke the silence in the house. Softly calling, “Lottie…Lottie,” until she reached the bedroom door, she peeked in and saw only a small form in the middle of the bed. Gently pushing the door open, she padded over to her friend, alone and burrowed under her comforter. Deeply concerned, she perched on the edge of the bed. “Charlotte,” a name she rarely used for her friend.

Brown eyes popped open in surprise. “Amy, I’ve screwed everything up,” her dearest friend in the entire world said and dissolved into wracking sobs.

“Shh,” Amy hugged her. “I’m sure you’ve done nothing of the kind. What happened?” Listening, she shook her head as Lottie detailed the events from the wedding: a mystery woman who ended up being Henry’s long-lost daughter, Henry’s ex-wife appearing out of nowhere, an apology from Diadema, and a postcoital argument between Lottie and Henry. “Wow. Sounds like I missed a lot. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, but I am now.”

“I just don’t know how Henry will ever forgive me for what I did. What was I thinking by defending Melanie? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?”

“Oh, Lottie,” Amy responded, “what happened between the two of you doesn’t sound like an argument.” She kicked her sandals off and curled up next to her best friend, just like they used to do as teenagers.

“No? It sure felt like one.” Lottie sniffed. “I’m still sick about it.”

“He cares so much about you. I doubt he’s truly angry. I think, more than anything, he’s maybe just shocked that you didn’t automatically take his side.”

Lottie gasped, “That’s not true! The only side I care about is his!”

“And deep down, I’m sure he knows that, but I can understand why Henry got upset. He just found out he has a daughter, and then his ex-wife, who kept that daughter from him for her entire life, has the audacity to show up? What a little bitch.” Reaching between them, she held the hand next to hers. “Then when he’s pouring his heart out to you, poor guy, after what sounds like some mind-blowing sex, by the way, you essentially take her side—” Amy squeezed Lottie’s hand when her friend tried to interrupt. “You totally did. You could have just heard Henry out, but you throw that DD woman at him? Lottie, why? That’s not like you. Are you still intimidated by her?”

After a beat, she said, “Not really, not anymore. I’m just annoyed that she’s always there-”

“Of course she’s always there! She’s the mother of his new daughter-in-law—it’s unavoidable, really.”

“I know, and I realize I was ridiculous about it, especially since I have no hold on Henry, not really. I guess what I was most upset about goes all the way back to before we were dating, and how much of his time she consumed…how much he let her consume. We could have started seeing each other two years ago. But he went to her before choosing me. I’ve already endured a relationship…a marriage…where I was never the most important person.”

“Oh, Lottie, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” Amy stroked her best friend’s back. “You weren’t ready then for what you have with Henry now. Yeah, you were attracted to him, but you were newly divorced, living in a new town, a new state, finally figuring out who you were! It sounds like that’s what Henry’s been doing, too. Figuring out what he wants. And that’s you.” Amy gave her a reassuring hug. “He’s not interested in DD.”

“I know…I’m just scared, I guess.”

“Of what?” Her tears began again, and Amy said, “Oh, Lottie, tell me.”

“That he doesn’t feel the same. I know he cares, but how can I possibly compete with the mother of his children, or the woman who was his first love? “

“First love? That’s a bit dramatic. First crush, maybe, but not love…not if it wasn’t reciprocated. And as for the mother of his children, she’s done nothing but lie to him for the past, what? Twenty-something years? Please.” Amy surveyed her friend, so beautiful in the morning light, an aura of serenity despite her anguish. A man like Henry would never prefer the other two chaotic options over Lottie. “Besides, that man is prime time in love with you,” Amy declared.

Lottie shook her head. “No quoting Top Gun right now. He isn’t in love with me.”

“He is,” Amy insisted, “look at everything he has done to show you so far. Number one—he made you that special blend of coffee, way back, before you two were even a thing-”

“Right, but he had the two blends already-”

“Number two—he built you that bookshelf for your classroom-”

“Well, he was working on a project for Josh and Effie-”

“And he bought out an entire bookstore to fill the shelves-”

“Well, that’s a slight exaggeration-”

“Number three—he has integrated you into his family: you’re friends with his sister, his sister-in-law, his daughter-in-law…and didn’t you have lunch with his mom a while back?”

“Right, but-”

“No buts! And you were his date to the wedding of the year, knee-deep in helping with everything, am I right? The question, my dear, sweet Lottie, is when will you tell him that you love him?” Her friend’s eyes snapped open, her mouth gaped. “Please, girl, I’ve known you since we were ankle-biters. I have never seen you so twisted internally over someone-”

“Hey! I was married for thirty years!”

“Yeah, and at best you were lukewarm. Brady was, and still is, a hottie, and I’ve seen women throw themselves at him, but you never let any of it bother you.”

“I knew he would never cheat, despite us being ‘lukewarm’ as you say!”

“Hey, I got that phrase from you! So, what, you think Henry would cheat on you?” Amy let her words sit there, for Lottie to mull over.

Her answer was immediate. “No—it’s just…how could I possibly compete with either Melanie or DD? I can’t.”

“Has Henry said anything that makes you believe you have to compete?” Lottie shook her head emphatically. “Okay, and has he actually used the phrase ‘my first love’ for DD?” Again, Lottie shook her head. Amy highly doubted Henry even thought of DD in those terms. “I know you’re scared and vulnerable, because you’ve never had to put your heart on the line before. But you’re worth it. Henry is worth it.” Another brief pause. “If you love him, that is.”

Eyes sparkling with tears, Lottie quickly affirmed, “I do. I love him, Ames. So much. In every way. His warmth. His weight when he surrounds me. His smile that shakes me to my core every single time.” She drew a deep breath. “His hands on my skin, slightly rough. The way he smells like oil after work, and then sweet, like soap, after he showers.” Amy blushed at the intimacy of her friend’s words, but Lottie, too enthralled thinking of Henry, didn’t notice. “More than anything, my heart misses his, with the thoughtful ways he shows me every day that he cares. He’s loyal and honorable, completely devoted to the people he cares about.” Lottie wiped at her eyes with the edge of the blanket. “Amy, I am so in love with him that it’s made me stupid, I guess. I’m an idiot, imbecile, ignoramus-”

“Okay, how about we lay off the nasty words beginning with the letter I, okay?” Amy wiped tears from her own eyes. “You are fucking brilliant and babe-a-licious, and the best person anyone could ask for, in any capacity. You deserve an all-consuming love, Lottie. That man worships you. He’s your second chance at forever. Don’t give up on it.”

Henry instinctively reached an arm out for Charlotte, seeking her warmth, but found the space cold and empty. Rolling over onto his other side, he discovered that side of the bed was more frigid than the other. Where was she? In a panic, he sat up as the truth crashed down. Too humiliated to face her, he’d slept alone last night in his bed, not Charlotte’s, falling into a dreamless sleep after meeting up with Melanie.

Heart racing, he checked his phone, hoping Charlotte had, in her usual graceful and empathetic way, contacted him. Despair filled him instead, and the only messages on his phone were a warning about his low battery and a calendar reminder about the wedding brunch in a few hours. Opening the drawer on his nightstand, he searched for a charger, then remembered he’d taken it to Charlotte’s two days ago. Trudging into the kitchen for the charger he kept by the coffeemaker, he groaned. Josh had borrowed it yesterday when they were getting ready for the wedding, taking it with him to the park in case he needed it. As if summoned, his son texted:

Morning, Dad.

Just FYI, Effie and I will bring Sophie with us to the brunch, so you and Charlotte don’t have to worry about picking her up.

I thought it’d be easier for me to introduce her, too.

BTW, got a letter from Mom. It was…interesting.

Text to Josh

Thanks for looking out for Sophie.

I’m so proud of you.

We can talk about your mom whenever you’re ready.

I love you, son.

Fully awake now, Henry added ice to a glass, then poured some cold brew from the fridge into it. Charlotte’s favorite blend, S’mores, with a heavy splash of cream, just the way she liked it. Drinking it made him feel closer to her. His behavior toward her last night had been deplorable, and he prayed she would forgive him for it. How should he begin fixing things with her? Should he just go over to her house so he could apologize in person, or should he give her space? Would she even welcome him today?

Dear Charlotte,

I am so sorry for what I said last night.

Or this morning, depending on perspective.

A simple apology isn’t good enough, but I am deeply sorry for everything.

I regret the things I said, but most of all, I regret leaving you.

I can only say I was ashamed to be so easily triggered, after so many years.

I know I probably don’t deserve a chance to explain, but I would be incredibly grateful if I could.

I’d like to tell you I’m sorry in person.

Can we please talk?

Love, Henry

He sent the text and slumped into a dining chair. If Charlotte never forgave him, he didn’t know what he’d do. He certainly didn’t deserve it after the way he’d treated her, but if she gave him a second chance, he would make it his life’s mission to bring her only joy for the rest of their lives. His phone rang, and a sob caught in his throat; to his dismay, it wasn’t Charlotte, but his sister. Why was she calling him just shy of eight in the morning? “Trixie? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just figured you’d be awake since you’re such an early bird.”

That used to be true before he discovered the joys of late-night lovemaking with Charlotte. Leisurely sensations slowly building until she exploded in his arms, her gorgeous face shining with wonder. He did his best to stifle a cry. “So, what’s up?”

“I was just checking what time you two were going to be at the restaurant this morning? We never discussed it last night.” Because instead, his attention had been on his ex and the secret daughter she’d kept from him.

With difficulty, he said, “It’ll probably be just me. Charlotte isn’t…” He couldn’t finish.

“Isn’t what, Henry?”

“Isn’t…isn’t feeling well,” Henry managed.

“Okay,” Trixie responded. “Henry? What’s wrong? You just sound a little…distant.”

What could he say? That his ex-wife had hidden his daughter from him, but that both of them had shown up at Josh’s wedding reception last night? That he and Charlotte had disagreed, and he had accused her of taking Melanie’s side? Having the woman he loved…the woman who had healed his heart…side with the woman who had done so much damage to that same heart had stung. Especially painful had been Charlotte questioning his feelings for DD, making it seem like his loyalty and devotion to Melanie had been suspect, when nothing had been further from the truth. He wasn’t a man with a wandering eye or a cheating heart. When he had been married to Melanie, no other woman had existed, despite his wife’s accusations, and he had believed that Charlotte understood that. Still, he had been an idiot to lash out at her, the woman he adored.

“I know about Melanie, Henry,…and Sophie. I’m sorry.” Of course she knew; everyone probably did. “You deserved to know your daughter, and I hate that you didn’t.” Trixie sniffed, and Henry guessed she was probably in tears on the other end of the phone. He certainly was, not caring about putting on a brave face with his sister. “You’re an amazing father, and the fact that Melanie stole that from you is shitty. I’m sure you’re already figuring out how to make up for lost time.”

“I’ll move heaven and earth for that chance,” he responded vehemently. “Sophie’s coming to the brunch today.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. Neither can the rest of the family. And don’t worry, I’ve warned everyone not to overwhelm her.”

“She reminds me so much of Josh, but lighter.” Henry felt himself choking up again.

“Like you are, now that you’re with Charlotte. I haven’t seen you like that in years.”

Charlotte… would she give him another chance? Did he deserve one? Before he succumbed to tears again, he said, “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Maybe Charlotte will feel better by then, too. Love you, baby bro.”

He needed to think, and he couldn’t do it inside his house, void of Charlotte’s soothing voice and lilting laughter. What he wanted was to see her, but he would make himself wait until she responded to his text. Coffee in hand, after stuffing his feet into a pair of tennis shoes, he shuffled across his backyard. Henry had tossed a baseball to Josh here their first summer, when neither one had any friends, both too immersed in their misery to make any. That winter, Henry built a wood shop, and years later, he would use the same design for his coffee shed.

Unlocking the door, he flipped on a light, then put a John Mellencamp CD on the stereo. Not finding a charger, he put his phone in his pocket and started on the project he’d thought of just before drifting asleep this morning. The repetitive action of sanding gave him the mental space to come to terms with what had occurred in the past twenty-four hours. Grudgingly, he supposed he understood why Melanie had thought leaving was inevitable. Looking back, his family could have done more…hell, he should have ensured he had done more. Now, he reasoned Melanie had probably amplified her self-involved behavior to protect herself from getting lost in his life. Just as Charlotte had felt lost during her marriage. Staring at his phone, he willed her to contact him, but gave up after a minute, going back to his project.

When he went back into his house to shower for the brunch, snoring greeted him from the living room. “What the hell?” His brother was asleep on his sofa. “George!”

“Shit, Henry, damn near gave me a heart attack!”

“I could say the same thing! What are you doing here?”

“Trying to get away from Nora,” his brother complained. “This is going to be a long year. She’s already going crazy about Liam’s engagement. Wants to start reserving venues, planning the rehearsal supper.” On his feet now, George rummaged through Henry’s refrigerator. “You have any breakfast casserole in here? I know we’ll be eating in an hour, but I’m starving!”

“Um…there might be some in the freezer.”

“Found it!” George popped the glass container into the microwave. “Anyway, I just don’t get why she’s obsessing about a wedding that A—she has no date for, and B—has no location for. I mean, Lana’s from New York, so I’ve been warning Nora to slow down. ‘Honey, it’s the bride’s show,’ I tell her, ‘not yours’.” George shrugged, clearly exhausted already by his son’s future wedding. Watching the casserole spin in the microwave, Henry thought of the day Charlotte made it for him, one of the little things she did to show she cared. What if she decided his life…his past…was too much? Who could blame her? “So, where is she?” George frowned and crossed his arms in front of him. “And I’m not buying your wide-eyed innocent look, either, or your story that Charlotte wasn’t ‘feeling well’,” George’s fingers emphasized air quotes. “Yeah, our sister called me. You two have been inseparable for the past two months, but now you’re here alone?” Uncomfortable with his brother’s inquisition, Henry merely shrugged. “I’m assuming it has something to do with Melanie making an appearance last night? I always thought she was a little shit-stirrer, you know. To keep your own child a secret from you, and then breeze back here, expecting to be forgiven? She clearly hasn’t changed⁠—”

“Hey, give it a rest, okay? Obviously, I’m upset with her about everything, but we’re working on things-”

“‘Working on things’ how?”

At George’s aghast expression, Henry assured him, “God, no, not like that. Just…existing together. I’ll probably never trust her, but that’s fine. I don’t need to—our children are adults.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I still can’t believe I have two kids. A daughter.” Making himself another coffee, he shook his glass at his brother. “Want one?”

“Is it the same as yesterday?” Henry confirmed with a nod. “Then hell, yes!” He sat down at the kitchen table. “It’s a lot to take in, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

“Overwhelmed, mostly. But I just want to move forward and get to know my daughter. I’ve spent too many years in pain already.” Sighing, he handed his brother his drink. “Anyway, Charlotte and I…I guess you could say we had an argument? Disagreement? And, yes, it kind of had to do with Melanie, but also DD.”

“What happened?”

“Charlotte defended Melanie, said she could see things from her perspective, especially how she must have felt when DD moved back after Nathaniel died.”

“DD is another one who’s always causing drama. Even Nora’s had it with her. Told her to get her shit together. Seems like she’s still drinking too much, all worked up over Burnside. Then, the wedding stuff gave her anxiety or whatever. Whatever Nora said must have worked, because DD apologized to Charlotte last night…sounds like she took responsibility for the crap she’s been pulling.” Using a towel to retrieve the casserole from the microwave, George blew on the food twice before shoveling steaming bites into his mouth.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Charlotte. She hasn’t answered my text. I don’t know whether to give her space or time, or what.” Henry slumped into a chair. “I’m not good at this, I guess. Not like you.”

“Comparing our love lives is a moot point, Henry. It’s apples and oranges. Hell, I was still wet behind the ears when Nora and I started dating. All of seventeen, she was fifteen. Young idiots who convinced themselves that they had found true love as teenagers.”

“And you did, clearly! Meanwhile, I barely even dated.”

George whistled. “Nora and I didn’t have it easy, you know.” Henry shot his brother a shocked look. “You don’t know how many times Nora threatened to leave me before we were married. I was partying, hanging out with people I had no business being around. We were a mess. Then, when I proposed, she turned me down at first. Told me to get my shit together, or we were done.”

How had Henry been so blind? The two of them had worked side by side in the shop in Clover Lake for years. “I’m sorry, George. I didn’t know.”

“Right, because you were dealing with your stuff with Melanie. I hope you never think that you didn’t try with her, or that you failed in your marriage. You worked your ass off to give her the world, but she was never going to be satisfied. Charlotte is not Melanie, if that’s what you’re afraid of. What you two have is electric, but real. Not like the fantasy you had when you were a teenager with DD, either. Sorry to bring that up if it stings, but you need to decide if you want to build something with Charlotte.”

“I do.” More than anything, Henry thought.

“Then go to her, don’t wait. She’ll tell you if she needs you to wait for her. Then, you do whatever you have to do.” His brother’s phone rang. “Well, that’s the love of my life. I’d better go before she figures out I’ve been hiding from her.” George gave him a one-armed hug. “Love you, brother.”

After a quick shower, Henry dressed in fresh clothes, which included the jeans from their first date and a navy blue shirt Charlotte said made his eyes look like the sea. He shoved on a ball cap, then let the front door slam behind him. He sprinted out to his car and drove to Charlotte’s house; once he got there, he deflated when he recognized Amy’s car in her driveway. Damn, he’d forgotten she was coming for a few days. He couldn’t go there now, not when Charlotte’s best friend was probably reaffirming what an idiot he’d been this morning. That’s okay, he told himself. He’d go to the wedding brunch and then come back to her place. Aside from his sister, Amy was their biggest cheerleader; hopefully, by the afternoon, she would be again.

At the brunch, the first person he encountered was his mother, who embraced him with a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, my sweet son.” His mother’s gray eyes shimmered. “I met my new granddaughter. She’s beautiful, Henry, but I’m not surprised since she is yours.” His mom frowned. “Also not surprised that her mother did what she did. That woman was always troubled⁠—”

“Now, Catherine, give our son a break. Let Henry and Josh decide how to move forward. We don’t need any ill will here today.” William softened his words with a tender kiss on his wife’s cheek.

She huffed, “You’re right, William. I’ll just focus on having another granddaughter. I’m sure Cait is thrilled not being the only girl anymore.”

“Who, me?” Cait hugged her grandparents. “Yes, Sophie can take some of the pressure off. Help keep the remaining single cousins in line.”

Felix popped up behind his grandma. “Sorry, I forgot to get engaged last night. Not all of us can take over someone else’s wedding like your brother, Caity. Oh, did you guys meet Monty?” Felix flagged a burly man from across the room. “He’s Lana’s brother, from New York.”

A few inches shorter than Felix and stockier, Monty had closely cut black hair, dark blue eyes, and a wide smile. He stuck out a large hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Montgomery,” he introduced himself first to Catherine and made his way around until he got to Cait, whose smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“We’ve had the pleasure.” Cait turned and walked away.

“Don’t mind her; she’s naturally happy.” Felix’s quip made everyone chuckle. “I’ve been talking to Montgomery about my new project on Rosebud.”

“Oh? Are you an architect, too, Montgomery?” William asked.

“No, but I’ve worked in construction most of my adult life.”

Catherine drew Henry aside. “I’m sorry to hear Charlotte isn’t coming.”

“Me too, Mom.” Even though this was his family, nothing felt right without her by his side, and he glanced at his phone, checking to see if she’d responded. Nothing but a further drained battery.

“Well, I’m sure whatever it is, she’ll be feeling better soon. She cares too much about you to let anything linger. Oh, there’s your sister. I need to talk to her.” With a kiss and a hug, his mom left, and he hoped what she said was true. The thought of last night coming between them made him feel like he had whatever illness he’d insinuated for Charlotte.

“Hey, Dad, you okay?” Josh looked at him with worry while also radiating a newfound joy and contentment.

“I could ask you the same.” He hugged his son. “Thanks for bringing Sophie.”

“Of course. She called our B & B last night and left her number. We’ve been texting all morning.” Josh lowered his voice. “I heard you met with Mom. Seeing her was hell for me, so I can’t imagine what you felt, especially after finding out about Sophie. How am I supposed to forgive her or move on after what she did?”

“Josh, don’t fight any battles on my behalf. Your mom and I both made mistakes; some were worse than others, but I’m ready to move past it. Especially for Sophie. I can’t be bitter about her mother—your mother—and have a healthy relationship with my daughter.” Effie approached them, handing them each an iced tea. “You need to do what’s best for you. Now, I’m no doctor, but letting go of your hurt and anger for your mom,” Henry placed his hand on Josh’s heart, “may be what’s best for this.”

“Wow—I haven’t heard one of your ‘I’m no doctor’ jokes since I quit working with you at the shop.”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve had to make a dad joke to get you to smile.” Something that had been a rarity back in those dark days.

“Henry, I hope Charlotte is okay? Everything that happened last night must have been a shock for her, too. I messaged her, but never heard back.” Was that a good sign that Effie hadn’t gotten a reply either?

“Actually, Charlotte helped me see things more clearly with Melanie. Made me consider how things were from her point of view.”

Josh pulled him in for another hug. “You always amaze me, Dad. If you can make peace with Mom, I guess I can give her a chance…eventually. All I’ve ever wanted is to be like you, you know.” His son shrugged. “It’ll be hard to stay angry, anyway, with Sophie in the picture. She’s the one we may need to keep an eye on, because I don’t think she’s really registered what Mom kept her from all her life.” Josh took his wife’s hand, and the newlyweds greeted Tess and Sam, who had just arrived.

Sophie was in conversation with Liam and Lana when Henry walked up to them. “How are you today, Sophie?” He opened his arms to her, and, without missing a beat, she stepped into them as if she’d been doing so her entire life. “I hear you’re making quite the impression.”

In his ear, she said, “I’m so lucky that you’re my dad, and this is my family.”

Holding her tightly, Henry corrected her. “I’m the lucky one. I’ve always wanted a daughter. Now I have two of them.” He turned to his nephew and embraced him. “Congratulations again on your engagement. And you, too, Lana.”

“Thanks, Mr. Livingston,” Lana replied with a smile.

Henry shook his head. “No, Lana, please—it’s Henry.” Her dark blue eyes shimmered with what Henry believed could only be joy.

“Excuse me,” boomed a voice. “Lana, we need to have a conversation.” Lana’s eyes widened, cheeks flushed.

“Montgomery, please. We’ve already talked about this-” Lana began.

He interrupted. “About what? You suddenly uprooting your life to move to a place where you don’t know anyone? Where you don’t have a job?”

“Why are you sticking your nose in, anyway?” Cait appeared behind Liam. “I told you last night—stay out of people’s business.”

Monty reared his head back. “I only tried to help⁠—”

“And I told you that your help is not needed!” Cait’s cheeks were red.

“Outside, both of you!” Liam pointed toward the back entrance. “Now!” With his fiancée’s hand in his, Liam led her, along with their siblings, to the door.

“Well, that was interesting,” Henry observed.

Sophie commented, “Cait’s intense,” making Henry laugh. “So I have some news of my own,” she announced. “Liam’s offered me a job at his dealership.”

“Really?” he held his breath hopefully. “So, does that mean you’re sticking around Beverley for a while?”

“If that’s okay with you? I don’t want to—” Sophie started.

He hugged her again. “I want nothing more than to get to know my daughter and make up for lost time. I’m thrilled.” Releasing her, he said, “You’re welcome to stay with me, of course.”

“Thank you. Cait said she’s moving into a new house, and I can stay with her as soon as she does. Said she’s finally glad there’s another female in the family. Until then, I think I’ll stay in the hotel. It’ll be nice to be on my own for a while. My mom can be, like, really high maintenance…but I’m sure you already know that, right, Dad?” Henry’s heart swelled at her words. Dad. The one word he had never tired of hearing from Josh now sounded even better from Sophie. “Besides, I saw you with your girlfriend last night. I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.” Sophie waved at Hamilton, then squeezed Henry’s hand before grabbing a drink at the bar.

Unable to cope with his mixed feelings—joy from seeing Sophie with Josh, and sorrow without Charlotte’s reassuring, loving presence beside him, Henry ducked out the same door he’d used last night, unable to wait another second without speaking with Charlotte. Unfortunately, his phone had finally died, all the life drained from it.

Charlotte rubbed her thumb over Henry’s text again, as if her phone was a magic lamp that would produce the man she loved. If only.

Dear Charlotte,

I am so sorry for what I said last night.

Or this morning, depending on perspective.

A simple apology isn’t good enough, but I am deeply sorry for everything.

I regret the things I said, but most of all, I regret leaving you.

I can only say I was ashamed to be so easily triggered, after so many years.

I know I probably don’t deserve a chance to explain, but I would be incredibly grateful if I could.

I’d like to tell you I’m sorry in person.

Can we please talk?

Love, Henry

Every time she read it, her eyes welled with tears. “Love, Henry.” The timestamp showed that she’d received it about the time Amy had gotten to her house. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen it until about half an hour ago. Multiple texts responding to Henry went not only unanswered but also unseen. Had he switched his phone off for the brunch? While she was in the shower, Amy told her she thought Henry’s car had driven past. If so, why hadn’t he stopped? He’d known Amy was coming to Beverley today, a sick realization dawned, and maybe if he was planning on ending their relationship, he didn’t want to do it with her friend present? Could that be? Panicked, she tried calling him, but went straight to voicemail.

“What should I do, Amy? I can’t let this go on…I need to see him. Should I go over to the Cattlemen’s Club?”

“Do you want to?” Charlotte stared at her friend, and she slowly nodded. “Let’s go! Put on your cutest outfit, wear your hair up so all he can think of is how he wants to take it down—he’s into that, right?—and just go to him!”

“What if he breaks up with me in front of his family?”

“The man is in love, Lottie. One argument, disagreement, misunderstanding, whatever it was, isn’t going to end that,” Amy assured her.

“No? Not even one where I took his ex-wife’s side and accused him of having feelings for Diadema?”

“Stop—you’re blowing things out of proportion. Granted, I’m only going by what you told me, but I think anxiety is magnifying everything.” Amy, next to her on the sofa, took her hand in hers. “Henry didn’t wait all those years to be with someone only to flake out on them at the slightest blip.” Amy grabbed a box of Kleenex from the coffee table and held it in front of her.

Taking a tissue, Charlotte blew her nose, hopeful this was the last of her tears. “I still don’t know why he didn’t tell me about being in touch with Melanie…shouldn’t I be concerned about that?”

“Honestly, I’d let that go. It’s not like there’s anything going on between them. He probably wanted to keep it away from you. Imagine if things were reversed, and your relationship with Brady was hell, but he kept calling and texting you? Would you tell Henry? The answer is no, because it would make things too complicated too fast, and not in a good way. You guys are in the first bloom of love right now. Having sex whenever possible, wherever possible.” Amy nudged her gently, and Charlotte emitted a chuckle. “All the serious stuff can come later, like when to move in together, where you’ll live, when you’ll take your first major vacation, how you plan on avoiding the mistakes you each made in your first marriages-”

Charlotte tilted sideways, gaping at Amy. “‘First marriages’? That implies I might have a second-”

“Come on, Lottie,” Amy cut her off, a touch of frustration in her voice. “Where else do you see this going? Don’t be coy and don’t think about it with the heart that is aching now. Think about it with the heart you had twenty-four hours ago.”

Yesterday, when dreams of a forever with Henry and a possibility of a lifetime of knowing him, touching him, kissing him, loving him had filled her with endless dreams. It was what she still wanted. “What if he rejects me?”

“He’s not going to, Lottie. He loves you,” her friend consoled her. “Trust him. Hell, trust yourself, for setting eyes on him from day one and knowing, without even speaking to him, that he was right for you…that he was the one.”

“Okay. I’ll do it. I’m ready to go over and try to talk to him.” Despite her shaky voice, she was resolute.

“How about some music while you get ready?” Amy got up and strode over to the stereo. “I’m assuming you still have that Eric Clapton in here?”

“Yes! I can’t listen to ‘Lay Down Sally’ without thinking about junior high.” “We must have listened to this a thousand times. I was more partial to ‘Tulsa Time’ myself.”

Charlotte left Amy humming to herself, arriving to her bedroom just as the record started. Tingling with determination, she intended to prove, no matter the cost to her own dignity, that what she and Henry shared was worth fighting for. From her closet, she chose the dress she’d worn to the street dance because nothing was as alive with memories, and as the silky fabric slid between her fingers, she shivered, recalling the press of it against her with Henry surrounding her, as he still did, and her nose found his musky scent still on her dress. Her eyes fell on her bed, covered by a patchwork quilt, a recent gift from Henry. Sewn by hand by Hutterite women who lived on a colony northeast of Beverley, he had purchased it at the farmer’s market. Charlotte had balked at the price and drifted to the next tent, where the same women were selling jellies and jams. While she was debating between blueberry/rhubarb or plum/peach, Henry bought her the quilt. He gave it to her that night, and the two of them spent hours wrapped up in it together, with Charlotte thanking him in deliciously creative ways.

Sitting at her dressing table, she twisted her hair up in the way that was sure to drive him wild. Just the other morning, she’d worn her hair the same way as they’d discussed taking a trip to Lake Tahoe over a holiday weekend in October. He’d painted a picture of the two of them canoeing and hiking during the day and dining at the finest restaurants in the evening. Just as she’d pinned up all errant strands of hair, Henry had come up behind her. In the mirror’s reflection, his hand had traced the line of her neck down the curve of her shoulder. Entranced, she watched as he bent his head, his lips following the same path. Unable to look away, she gasped as he pulled the clip from her hair, and her dark waves tumbled down over his silvery head. “You’re so beautiful, Charlotte,” his breath hot in her ear. “You absolutely mesmerize me.” Large hands caressed her, making her moan.

Flushing, she swiped some lip gloss on, body aroused with the thought of Henry. She was changing into her dress when her phone rang. It was Trixie calling. “Hey, Lottie. How are you?”

“Um, okay.” Did Henry’s sister know about their disagreement last night?

“Oh, good. Everyone is missing you at the brunch, so I thought I’d reach out. Henry is walking around like a sad puppy.”

Eyes welling with tears, she fought them back. “He is?”

“Of course he is; he’s so lovesick that he’s hardly eaten a thing. And you know how we love our food!”

Though Trixie’s tone was upbeat, Charlotte recognized an undercurrent of concern, and it broke her. Her determination quietly crumbled, and she allowed herself to succumb to tears. “Trixie, I messed things up.” That was as far as she made it, her sobs so loud that Amy came into the bedroom.

“What do you mean that you messed up? With Henry? I can’t believe that, not when you guys were so happy yesterday.”

“We had a…disagreement… last night, after the wedding.” Amy’s hand ran soothing circles over her back, and she took a deep breath.

“Oh, Charlotte,” Trixie sniffed. “This explains Henry’s demeanor. Let me guess—it was about Melanie, right? I swear, as long as I live and breathe, I will never understand how my decent, sweet brother got involved with such a selfish woman. From the day he came home with her, she’s left a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Yes, it was about Melanie, but also Diadema.” Charlotte summarized her argument with Henry, wincing because she regretted it more with each passing minute. “He left my house, so upset. I don’t think he will ever forgive me…and I can’t really blame him.”

“Oh, Lottie, no. My brother looks like death warmed over, he’s so despondent.”

“Of course he is, because I should’ve kept my thoughts to myself,” she wailed. “I should never have said anything⁠—”

“Bull,” Trixie interrupted. “It shows so much about your own character, that you defended the mother of his children, when you could have just piled on, and he knows that. Henry cares about you so much, Lottie…we all do.”

“I don’t want him to have to choose between me and his past.” And that was what scared her the most, Charlotte admitted to herself. That she could not win when stacked up against memories or emotions that had built a legacy in his mind.

“What past? Two women who rejected him? He’s already chosen you. You’re the one he wants. And that’s what he’s told both of those women.”

“He has?”

“Yes! And as far as DD goes, Nora told me she spoke with you before you left the dance last night and that she apologized?”

“She did,” Charlotte confirmed. “And I believe her. I can understand the trauma she must be reliving.”

“See? I had my suspicions you’re a better person than me, and here you are proving it. Of course, I still have my doubts about her, but that’s from a lifetime of knowing her. And I’m still bitter about how she treated my little brother, but I am willing to give her grace if you are. She’s been better today, or at the very least, she refused both a Bloody Mary and a mimosa. Pretty sure all the alcohol only made everything worse for her.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said.” Charlotte sniffled, spirits lifted once again, thanks to the love and support from the friend on the phone and the friend sitting beside her.

“You know, the party is still in full swing over here. Josh and Effie haven’t opened their gifts yet, and Daniel just came out of the kitchen with some delicious-looking snacks. If you’re feeling better.”

“I am, actually.” She was feeling better. She was also feeling anxious and terrified. “I just got dressed, so Amy and I will be over soon.”

“Sounds perfect. I know a certain someone will be thrilled to see you.”

Ending her call, she looked at Amy. “Ready to go to a wedding brunch?”

“With you on my arm, smokin’ hot? Let’s go! Oh, wait, let me get the stereo.”

Charlotte grabbed her keys from the hook beside her front door and, with a giddy laugh, she opened it, surprise making her fall back inside.

Vanilla and jasmine hit Henry the moment Charlotte opened her door, every fantasy he’d ever had, but more than that, her wit, tender heart, and creative mind made her a beautiful reality. She wore the dress from their first date, the one that made her eyes shine like melted chocolate, exposing smooth shoulders blushing pink, and he wanted to crawl across the threshold and beg her forgiveness—forgiveness he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Henry…” With what could only be his heart in his eyes, Charlotte’s knees threatened to buckle beneath her. Uneasiness overtook her resolve to make things better with him, because what if he had decided against a future for them, despite his appearance at her house?

Not sure where or how to begin, he relaxed slightly as she smiled, but not completely, because there was no sign of the dimples he loved so much. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, but he crushed her to him before she could finish. Trembling fingers twisted into her hair, and bobby pins fell at her feet. His mouth ravaged hers, and they drank from each other, swallowing their mutual heartache.

Breaking away, she held him at arm’s length to ensure he understood her sorrow, her regret for causing him pain. “I never meant to hurt you. I shouldn’t⁠—”

“You never hurt me, Charlotte…I’m the only one who should be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry. I should never have left you. I have no excuses—” his voice broke from need, from relief, from love.

Tears slanting down her cheeks, relief flooded her core. “No, please, I shouldn’t have said anything. I was jealous and petty.”

“Never.” His thumbs whisked her tears away, and he hated to have been the one to cause them. “You were right, about everything. I just didn’t want to face my part in why Melanie left.”

“You didn’t deserve any of the pain I caused you⁠—”

“You? Cause me pain?” Shaking his head, he was at a loss as to how she believed she had been the one to cause him any pain. “Never. All you have done, from the moment I met you, is support me. You bring beauty and joy into my world, and last night, when it felt like my world was falling apart, only thinking of you helped me hold it together.” They were standing just inside the doorway to the house, and the front door closed softly behind him.

“I was on my way to you. I was on my way to the brunch to tell you…” Taking a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage she had in the world, she paused for a moment, and then watched uncertainty cloud his summer-sky eyes, something she never wanted to see again, so she rushed on, “I love you, Henry.” Smiling into his stunned face, she repeated, “I love you. I was coming to tell you that from the very first time I saw you, some part of you has been calling to me.” Kissing his fingertips, she wanted to assure him. “It’s okay if you’re not there yet, if you need time. I’ll give you time, space, whatever. I’ll wait for you, Henry Livingston.” Finally, she could be the first woman, the only woman, to prove to this man that he was worth taking a chance on. That he was worth the first declaration of love.

Trembling as his wits finally caught up with him, he lifted her off her feet, swirling her in a wide circle in her living room, while “Bell Bottom Blues” played in her living room, and it spoke to Henry’s yearning for one more chance. Years since he had experienced such abundant bliss, he longed to carry her around town, informing everyone they came into contact with that he was in love. He supposed, however, that he should tell Charlotte first. He slid her down his body, and as he clasped her hands in his, he looked deep into her eyes. “I love you, Charlotte Berg. I was an idiot to make us wait so long, and I will strive, every single day, to make up for lost time until forever.” Their kiss this time was unhurried, gentle, shared by two people aware of the life they would build together. When their eager mouths eventually broke apart, he said, “I want you to understand that we are on the same page about everything. First: Diadema.” Pausing as Charlotte’s eyes widened, he nodded, “It may take me a while to adjust, but I am going to do my best to only call her Diadema from now on—no more DD. I don’t want any misunderstandings, mostly from her, concerning any familiarity. I heard from multiple people today, including her, that she is going to get herself together, and I hope she does, but she is not my worry.” Henry pressed his forehead to Charlotte’s, her scent making him dizzy, so he closed his eyes to collect himself. “Second: Melanie. I wasn’t completely open with you about her. She’s been texting and calling me sporadically for the past two years. I never said anything because I didn’t want to deal with her. Then, after I met you, I didn’t want to make her an issue for us. I just…I thought if I pretended with you that I hadn’t heard from her, it would make it a reality. Stupid, I know, and maybe if I had acted more…maturely, been more understanding, she’d have told me about Sophie sooner. Maybe not, but I want to believe that she wanted to…even tried to. All that matters is that I know now.” Henry cupped the precious face of the woman he loved. “I never expected her to show up last night, but she’s gone now. Maybe she’ll be back at some point, if Josh wants a relationship with her. But that will have nothing to do with me, and the same goes for the one I’m going to have with my daughter, here, in Beverley, because she’s staying.” Henry had to stop to breathe, having spoken more words at one time than ever before in his life, but Charlotte was worth all of them.

“Thank you for being open with me, but I’ve realized that I’m not bothered or threatened by anyone. If you want a relationship, a friendship, with Melanie, or DD, or anyone else, I’m secure in us.” She leaned up to kiss his delectable mouth. “And by the way, you don’t have to call her Diadema; she can always be DD.” She kissed him again. “Most importantly, I’m thrilled about Sophie staying. Henry, that’s wonderful.” Charlotte warmed at the thought of watching him create a bond with his new daughter.

“She’s so incredible. I can’t wait to get to really know her, try to make up for lost time.” He drew her over to the sofa, and after he sat, he pulled her down onto his lap and laced the fingers of one hand with hers. “When I left you this morning,” Henry softly kissed her, “which was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, I went to the hotel to talk to Melanie. We went to the diner, and I listened to her…talked some, too, but mostly listened. And that is thanks to you, because if you hadn’t said what you did, that might never have happened. And it needed to.” His thumb traced her lips, which opened, and he slipped it inside, seeking her moist heat. Damn, he thought, it was impossible for him to keep his hands to himself. “I needed to close that chapter—both chapters, finally and fully, before moving on. With you.”

Charlotte grasped his hand and kissed his palm, all while her eyes never left his. Her body aching, her tongue flicked out, lightly licking the center of his hand as his pupils dilated, making his sky-blue eyes almost black. She said tenderly, “So let me get this straight—you love me.”

God, did he—more than his brain could wrap itself around. His brain, however, was not the body part responding so…exuberantly…right now. “I love you.”

Charlotte dragged her nails through his hair, fusing her mouth to his; the temperature of their kiss hot enough to burn their shadows into the fabric. “I love you so much, and I missed you terribly last night.” Her fingers worked on the snaps of his shirt.

“Did you?” His mouth tasted the delicate skin of her neck. “We’ll have to make sure that never happens again.”

“Mmm, I’m really thinking we need to make up for lost time,” she dropped back to the sofa, stretching and tugging on the waistband of his jeans. With his mouth pulling down the bodice of her dress, she burned with her need. “I want you, Henry.”

His hands gripped her hips, clasping them firmly against him. “Far be it from me not to give you exactly what you want.”

In the circle of his arms, when their shared heartbeat had calmed, Charlotte stroked Henry’s chest. “When I was coming to you, I wanted to be the one to fight for you…fight for us.”

“Well, I got to you first,” he grinned at her before growing serious. “I couldn’t just wait anymore, not like I did so many times before. I needed to be a man of action, to make my own future happen…our future.” He curled a lock of her hair around his finger.

She raised herself on her elbow. “Oh, I have no complaints about your action,” she laughed. “And I suppose now that we’ve resolved everything, we should make our way to the brunch.”

Henry kissed her forehead. “I’m surprised they haven’t sent out a search party yet.” Reluctantly, he redressed, then held up Charlotte’s dress to her. She stood, raised her arms, and he slid it gently over her head, and with the greatest care, zipped it up in the back. With one last caress of her velvety shoulders, he informed her, “You realize we’ll be the talk of the brunch, right?”

“I’m counting on it.” Her dimples flashed at him.

When they arrived at the restaurant, raucous applause greeted them. “I take it you’re feeling better, Charlotte?” Effie winked, with Josh wrapped around her from behind.

“Much.” More from her need to be close to him than embarrassment, Charlotte pressed her face into Henry’s chest.

“Hey, Dad, next time let me know when you’re off making a romantic gesture,” Josh boomed.

Effie chuckled, “Many thanks to Amy, who let us know where you two were.” Charlotte raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“Hey,” said Amy, hugging Henry and then Charlotte, “enquiring minds want to know.” In Charlotte’s ear, “I snuck out the front door as soon as I could. No need to thank me for giving you privacy.”

“Now that you’re back and Charlotte has finally arrived,” Josh announced, “we’ve got important wedding business to take care of in here.”

Effie clapped her hands in agreement. “Yes, let’s get these presents unwrapped so we can get to the fair,”

After the bride and groom opened gifts, envelopes with money, and greeting cards, the party broke up, with guests beginning to make their way over to Huron for an afternoon at the fair, which is when Trixie swept Henry and Charlotte up in a group hug. “I’ve never been prouder of two people in my life. And to think, none of this would have been possible without me.” Henry and Charlotte laughed. “It’s true! After all, I am the one who encouraged you to take your car into my brother’s shop, am I right?”

“We may as well agree, Charlotte. My older sister isn’t often wrong, but when she is, she’s insufferable.”

“Listen, we all know that you two would still be making moon eyes at each other if it weren’t for me!”

Charlotte nodded. “You really were there for us so many times.” Henry stood behind her with his arms around her waist, resting his head on top of hers. The press of his lips to the top of her head let her know he agreed. “Are you and Brian heading over to the fair now?”

“Well, I wanted to, but he’s got a few chores he needs to take care of, so we’ll come up later.”

“Why don’t you ride with us?” Henry offered.

Trixie shook her head. “As much as you both love me, I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

“What’s this about a third wheel?” They all turned to look at Amy. “I invented the concept, didn’t I, Lottie?”

“I’m not agreeing, but she is riding with us to Huron,” Charlotte pointed out to Trixie.

Once the four of them got to the fair, Amy and Trixie wandered off to look at some exhibits, leaving Henry and Charlotte to amble hand-in-hand through the streets until they got to the midway. “Let’s ride the Ferris wheel first, Henry,” Charlotte suggested.

“Sounds perfect.” After a kiss to her forehead, he bought a strip of tickets from the nearest booth.

As soon as they were in their bucket, he draped an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled into his side as they began their ascent. “I remember the moment, two years ago, when I saw you from up here,” she told him. “I had lived in Beverley for a month and hadn’t seen you around town, not since that first day outside the shop. I was so disappointed, but then here I was, with Amy, and I looked down and you were right there.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it either. You had haunted me since then, too. It’s funny that neither one of us knew we saw each other that first time, but then ended up finding each other not in Beverley but at the fair.”

“It’s fate…all of it,” she said quietly. “We’re so lucky to have found each other, to be together now at our age.”

“I agree.” Henry cupped her face in his hands. “That’s why I don’t want to spend another night alone, without you. Move in with me, Charlotte.”

“What?” He stunned her with his request, but it was what she wished for, more than anything.

“Unless you think it’s too soon?” Was he rushing things? He didn’t think so, not at their age, as she’d pointed out. But, he reminded himself, she had only been divorced a couple of years. He’d had years of living alone, enough to know he didn’t want that anymore, but maybe she liked it?

“Too soon? No, I just…I thought you’d need time to adjust after living alone for so long.”

“That’s why I don’t need time. I don’t want to spend another minute alone, without you. But if it’s too soon, that’s-”

“Yes! Yes, of course I’ll move in with you. I don’t want to be without you, either.” Taking care not to rock their cart, she turned her face up to his to meet his mouth. “I’m so happy,” she cried, smiling against his mouth.

After they broke apart, he said, “And just so you know, if you’d rather not live at my house, we could find our own place, or live in yours—I’m open. Whatever you want. I just want to be with you. This morning, waking up without you next to me, not seeing your face smiling at me, hearing your voice say my name, feeling your heart beating?” Henry’s palm encompassed Charlotte’s pounding heart. “It was torture, and I never want to endure that again.”

Charlotte captured his mouth with hers again, assuring him, “Never. I want to spend every night with you, too. Your house is perfect.”

Holding her chin in his hand, he said, “Our house. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. All the love you’ve put into that house? All the memories it has, for you and Josh, rebuilding your life? It speaks to who you are, Henry.” Behind her glasses, her endless brown eyes held tears, causing his own eyes to well up. “Your strength, your hope, your goodness. But also your mistakes. I want the perfect, the imperfect, all of you.”

“It took you blowing into Beverley, into my life, for me to have the courage to take the chance to love again. But it was your patience, your optimism, and your heart that got us here.”

“When I moved, I never expected this. I didn’t know what would happen, just that I needed a new start.”

“We both got one, you and I…together,” Henry promised her. “Charlotte, I am in this, with everything in me. I didn’t get it right before, but the two of us⁠—”

“—are right.” Charlotte finished for him. “We are right.” Linking her hands with his, she continued, “When my marriage ended, all I wanted was to find out who I was and what I needed out of life. I thought that was freedom. What I discovered was that I really wanted the freedom to choose. And I choose you, Henry Livingston.”

“You know, they say love is sweeter the second time around,” Henry informed her. “What do you say we take another spin on this?”

“I’d say it sounds perfect.” Too wrapped up in each other, they didn’t notice various friends and family members watching them from below, none of whom knew any of the details but recognized the commitment being made and a second chance at love fulfilled.

Two Months Later

In the dress she’d worn to Josh’s wedding, Charlotte was in their bedroom packing when she glanced up to find Henry leaning against the door frame watching her, so desirable, still in his clothes from work. With his hands behind his back, his shoulders straining against his shirt, he stole her breath. Tomorrow they were leaving for a long weekend at Lake Tahoe, and she tingled at the idea of just the two of them there, with no friends or family popping in, as they liked to do at their house in Beverley. His deep voice asked, “Do you know how beautiful you are?” After crossing the room, one powerful arm enfolded Charlotte.

“Well, when you text me that we’re having a fancy evening out, I respond appropriately.” She dropped the sweater she held as his tongue swirled in a sensitive spot between her neck and her collarbone.

“And you know I love how you respond,” he whispered, with a kiss to her neck. “I have a surprise for you.” He produced a package wrapped in purple paper, tied up with a silver ribbon whose bow adorned the top. He soaked up the wonder in her chocolate eyes as she blinked behind her glasses.

“Henry, what’s that?” Charlotte squealed in delight—she loved a surprise, especially from him, and he excelled at giving them.

“Open it and find out,” he teased, placing it on her dressing table.

With extreme care, she untied the purple ribbons holding the handles closed. “The wrapping is so lovely.” Pulling out a handful of tissue paper, she withdrew the item from the bag. “What in the world? Is this a Ferris wheel?” With brightly painted wooden cars and tiny lights, the structure was slightly over six inches tall. Struck by the craftsmanship, Charlotte touched one of the cars with her manicured finger. “Oh, Henry, it’s gorgeous! Did you make this?”

He nodded. “I started it the morning after Josh’s wedding. I needed something to do while I thought about everything, worried that I had messed it all up.” He kissed the top of her head. “Watch this,” flicking a button on the back. Pride swelled as her mouth dropped when the wheel began slowly spinning.

In awe that his beautiful hands could create something so magnificent, his gift mesmerized her so much that it took her several minutes to notice something glinting from the center. “Wait, what’s that?”

Switching it off, Henry plucked the centerpiece from the wheel. “Charlotte, my love for you has been filled with firsts: the first time I saw you, across the street from the shop, the first time the breeze caught your hair when you were going up in the Ferris wheel, the first moment you stepped into my garage. And then our first date, when you were the most spellbinding woman I had ever seen. You take my breath away every single time I look at you, and I’ve spent every moment falling more in love with you.” Her brown eyes held the promise of an eternity together, something that he never thought he’d have with anyone, let alone someone like Charlotte. Her grace, her loving spirit, and her passion humbled him. “It seems impossible that I could love you more than I do at this moment, but if you’d give me the chance, I want to try.” He dropped his eyes to her trembling hand, held in his, the ring poised at the tip, the ruby in the center signifying his burning love for her. “Will you do me the honor of making me the luckiest man alive? Charlotte, will you marry me?”

Bursting into tears, she said, “This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never had a proposal⁠—”

“Is that a yes?” Henry clarified through the mist in his eyes.

“It’s a yes,” she confirmed, and he slid the perfectly sized ring onto her finger. “Yes, you amazing, brilliant, talented man! I love you.” Her breathing became shallower as his hand caressed a path from her waist over to her hip. “And I want you,” she unsnapped his shirt, “as I have every day since the first time I saw you.”

“Goddamn, you better,” he groaned into her open mouth, luxuriating in the fullness of her hips. He clasped them until she was flush with him. Backing up to the bed, watching their reflection in the mirror, he lowered himself down, bringing her with him, where she straddled him. Running his hands from her hips up to her breasts, he counted his lucky stars that she was his, he was hers. He deserved sainthood for ignoring the deep V of her neckline as long as he had, and he lifted his head to taste her.

“Henry…” Charlotte whimpered, mindless as his fingers stroked the insides of her thighs. Misty foreheads pressed together, Henry gazed into eyes reflecting his own affection and devotion. Brushing glossy brown waves from her shoulders, he marveled that she was the one, all along: the one he’d been waiting for. Capturing her cries with his mouth, he shuddered under her just as she collapsed on top of him.

“Forever, Henry. Me and you.”

“Forever,” Henry responded, “me and you.” His hand was caressing her back but stilled when a voice called up the stairs.

“Dad? Are you still home?” Josh. What was his son doing here, Henry wondered, interrupting the private celebration he was enjoying with his fiancée? “I thought we were all meeting over at La Hacienda? We saw your car in the driveway. Sophie’s here, too, by the way.”

“Babe, I told you we shouldn’t just let ourselves into his house anymore, now that Charlotte lives here, too. You know, you have to stop playing your only child card, ‘cause you’re not anymore,” Effie could be heard chastising her husband.

“I don’t think anyone is here,” Sophie countered. “It’s really quiet.”

“What are they doing downstairs?” Henry grumbled. “I told them to meet us at the restaurant…”

“Henry, what are you talking about? You didn’t tell me the kids were meeting us for dinner.”

“Hey, what are you guys doing here? I thought we were all meeting at the restaurant?” Her daughter’s voice floated up to them.

“Isobel?” Charlotte turned to Henry. “What’s she doing here? She knows we’re going away tomorrow.”

“Well, if they had waited and actually followed my instructions, I planned an engagement party for us tonight⁠—”

“Oh, Henry.” With his precious face in her hands, Charlotte feathered kisses across his cheeks, forehead, and nose.

“But we have too many damn kids. How long are we away? Do you think we can extend our trip?” Henry mumbled into Charlotte’s throat as she giggled, reminding Henry that he had everything he’d ever wanted.

Second Chances is Book Four in the series “Love, South Dakota Style”. If you loved this book, be sure to read the other titles: Excess Baggage (Book One), Cutting Losses (Book Two), and Mixed Messages (Book Three). You will get to read in full how Tess and Sam fell in love, how Josh and Effie found their way back to each other, and how Liam and Lana fell in love after their one-night stand.

The love never ends, so scan the QR code below to go to my website JodiCulliney.com to enter my world of books. Stay tuned for announcements concerning my book currently in progress.

For someone who never imagined writing one book, I sometimes have to pinch myself that I have authored four books (so far). Just like the title of my book, I, too, got a second chance at realizing a dream. My books would be written in a vacuum if no one read them, so thank you to anyone who has read my books, especially early readers. Thank you to all of those who have come to any of my events, especially my sisters: Kris, Candi, Laci, and Chelsea, and my mom, JoAnn, who have heard me talk about my books more than anyone else. Thanks to my niece Blakely, who helps me film social media promos for events and assists me in setting up and running events. She’s probably learned more about romance novels than her mom would prefer, but we always keep it clean! Thank you to my cousin Jill, for her unfailing enthusiasm, and Jodie, who seems to know everyone, and the rest of their book club, for sponsoring some of my events—I appreciate your love of reading!

Thanks to the friends I’ve made in social media, who like, comment, and share my content. Creating a post almost every day can be exhausting, but if it gets noticed, it makes it worthwhile.

My books wouldn’t be beautiful without the gorgeous cover artwork of Katarina @nskvsky or the beautiful book layout, interior art, and design from  Brady Moller @bradymoller,  both of whom I found on Fiverr.com.

Most of all, thanks to my husband, Pete, for encouraging me, reading chapters as I write, providing me with feedback, and being able to answer all car questions, especially which classic model would provide a front seat with maximum make out accessibility.

I always welcome hearing from readers, and can be reached at jodi@jodiculliney.com

Follow my Substack, Reader Becomes Writer, for my newsletter, which contains book updates, musings, and an occasional recipe.

I am currently at work on my next book and look forward to adding to my Love, South Dakota Style world for many books to come.

Jodi Culliney, former bookstore clerk and lifelong lover of books, grew up in South Dakota, where she lived a peaceful existence until she met the love of her life and made the move to Brooklyn, NY. She has a Bachelor’s degree in English from Black Hills State University and is working on her next novel.

Scan this QR code for a link to my Substack, https://jodiculliney.substack.com/ - It’s called Reader Becomes Writer and it is where I write about how I started my journey and talk about my books!

Thanks for reading!