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Shadow of Turning
Valerie Hansen


The little town in the Ozarks had always been a safe haven for Chancy Boyd.But now a disturbing series of crimes was moving ever closer to her, threatening everything she held dear. And a man unlike any she'd ever known was unsettling her in other ways…. Now a deadly tornado–her worst nightmare, ever since a twister had killed her parents–was racing toward the town.With the help of storm chaser Nate Collins, she'd have to face her deepest fears, both the storm gathering outside, and the storm this man unleashed in her heart.









“You think someone was in here?”


“I think chances are very good that the shadow you saw in the store was human, not imaginary, and our arrival interrupted whoever was going through your stuff, Chancy.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. I do think you should notify the sheriff, though.”

“And tell him what, Nate? He sounded pretty miffed when I told him we’d found the stolen van ourselves.”

“It’s his job to check out possible crimes. At least you can ask him to keep an eye on your store for you during the night.”

That suggestion made Chancy laugh nervously. “I don’t think that would help. Nobody is actually on duty from midnight to six in the morning.”

“I don’t believe this place. What about crime?”

“There isn’t any to speak of,” she answered.

“Wrong,” Nate said sternly. “Now there is.”


VALERIE HANSEN

was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life. In the years that followed her turn to Jesus she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.

Married to her high school sweetheart since age seventeen, she now lives in an old farmhouse she and her husband renovated with their own hands. She loves to hike the wooded hills behind the house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line.

Life doesn’t get much better than that!




Shadow of Turning

Valerie Hansen








Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of Lights, with whom is no variableness or shadow of turning.

—James 1:17


I actually am a certified

“Severe Weather Storm Spotter”

thanks primarily to my husband’s urging

and equal participation in the class.

This book is dedicated to him.




CONTENTS


PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION




PROLOGUE


“You did what with them?”

The thin young woman gripping the telephone receiver cowered even though the man on the other end of the line was behind bars and miles away. “I didn’t know they were so important, Sam. They were just a bunch of old keys in a drawer. How was I supposed to know any of them mattered?”

“If they were mine, they mattered,” he shouted. “Get them back, all of them, you hear.”

“I’ll—I’ll try.”

“You’d better do more than try,” he said with evident menace. “You’d better have every one of those keys in your hand and be waiting for me when I get out of here in sixteen more days or you’ll never do another one of those idiotic craft pictures of yours—or any other kind.”

“They’re three-dimensional collages,” she replied, sniffling. “I’ve sold quite a few of them and it’s a good thing, too, or I’d’ve starved waiting for you to serve your time. I don’t know why you couldn’t have just told them what they wanted to know and cut a deal.”

“Plea bargain?” He cursed colorfully. “Not on your life. I kept my mouth shut for a reason and you had the keys to my future—to our future—until you lost them.”

“But which ones do you want? How will I tell?” She began to sob. “Oh, Sam, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up. Pull yourself together and think.”

“I will. I promise. I only used the keys in three or four pictures and I’m pretty sure I remember who bought them. If they won’t sell them back to me I’ll do whatever I have to do to get my hands on them. I promise.”

“You’d better,” he rasped. “I’m not the only one who’s counting on you. My partners aren’t nearly as softhearted as I am. Understand?”

Nodding, she bid him a tearful goodbye, ran to the shoe box where she kept her receipts and dumped its contents onto her bed where she could spread everything out.

Her fingers flew through the papers, scattering them like dry leaves in a gale. Three pink receipts stood out as possibilities and she plucked them from the jumble. Two of those sales had been to furniture stores in Baxter County and now that she thought about it, a third collage was still sitting in the back of her closet, unsold, so that left only one unaccounted for. It had gone to a woman from right there in Serenity. That address was the closest so she’d go there before driving to Mountain Home and buying back her own pictures.

She had to reclaim all the keys. It was the only way to be sure she had the right ones. She shuddered. Her stomach clenched. Failing to please a man like her husband was unthinkable.

The trembling fingers of one hand clasped the receipts while she gently touched her cheek with the other, remembering previous encounters. She dared not fail.




ONE


Charlene Nancy Boyd, Chancy for short, loved antiques so much that she was willing to work 24/7 to find and preserve them. On balmy spring days like this one, however, she was happy to find a good excuse to leave her shop and venture into the beautiful Ozark hills. Dogwood trees had started to lose their white blossoms and the oaks were producing tiny chartreuse leaves that would grow, darken and soon fill the skyline.

The auction at the old farm place off Hawkins Mill Road was the kind that always made her sad. A couple’s lifetime worth of belongings was being liquidated. Both Jewel and Pete Hawkins had passed away and their heirs were selling their entire estate, one piece at a time.

Those items that didn’t interest surviving relatives were often the most valuable, Chancy knew, and she wanted to be there to bid. If she bought something that eventually brought a profit, fine. If she let nostalgia or enthusiasm influence her and paid too much, that was simply part of the business. She much preferred auctions to private sales because she was far too softhearted when it came to the old people who were selling their last treasures.

The crowd massing around the long tables of household goods set up in the farmyard was filled with familiar faces. Chancy greeted several acquaintances before she noticed Miss Mercy Cosgrove, a former schoolteacher she saw often, particularly in church.

Chancy waved and joined the elderly woman. “Morning. Great to see you. How’ve you been?”

The thin octogenarian gave her a welcoming hug, then shrugged. “Passable, considering. If I’d known how many aches and pains I’d have at this age I’d have taken better care of myself years ago.”

“I know what you mean.” The back of her hand rested against her lower back. She made a fist and rubbed a sore spot through her blue sweatshirt. “I get a catch every once in a while, too.”

“Young thing like you?”

“I’m nearly thirty, Miss Mercy.”

“That’s impossible.” She held out her hand waist-high. “I remember when you were only this tall. Cute little thing you were, too, not that you’re not still pretty.” Eyes misty with fond memories, she studied Chancy’s face. “Still got those adorable little dimples, I see. I imagine you have to beat the boys off with a stick.”

Chancy couldn’t help chuckling. In her teens she’d adjusted to the fact she wasn’t popular the way many of the other girls were. “I think I may have hit a few of those guys too hard,” she said with a smile. “Word must have gotten around because I haven’t had to beat any of them off since high school.” And not really then, either.

“Well, more’s the pity,” her former teacher said. She tittered behind her hand. “’Course, I shouldn’t talk since I never remarried after my husband passed away.”

“We’re probably both smart to stay single,” Chancy offered. “Marriage is highly overrated.”

Mercy laid a hand on Chancy’s arm. “Now, dear, you can’t judge every couple by you know who.”

She certainly did. The turbulence of her parents’ union was well known to practically everybody, thanks to the longevity of juicy gossip in a small town. The atmosphere in the modest house where Chancy had grown up had been so volatile she’d moved out as soon as she’d been able to amass enough capital to start her business, and although that move had undoubtedly saved her life, she’d often wondered if her presence could have prevented her parents’ untimely demise.

“I should have been there to talk some sense into them,” Chancy said, remembering.

“Nonsense. Nobody can predict what a tornado’s going to do. If they’d gone to the storm cellar like reasonable folks would have, they’d probably have survived. They were grown-ups, Chancy, honey. They made their choice and it was the wrong one. That’s not your fault.”

“I know, but…”

Mercy held up a hand. “Hush. No more of that silliness. You and I can no more be responsible for life and death than we can fly. When the good Lord decides my time is up and takes me home, I don’t want anybody down here to blame themselves. I’m sure your mama and daddy don’t, either.” She smiled sweetly.

Chancy gave her a cautious hug, mindful of her frailty. “Thanks for reminding me who’s really in charge, Miss Mercy. You always were a wise lady.”

“Just repeating what the Good Book says.”

In the background, the auctioneer began making his opening announcements. Chancy tensed, half listening while she asked, “Are you going to stay for the fun?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Got my eye on that green Depression-glass butter dish of Jewel’s over there. Hope it doesn’t go too high.”

“I promise not to bid against you,” Chancy said.

Her glance passed over the crowd, assessing the competition. She knew most of the antique dealers present and would try to pass the word to them to back off and let Miss Mercy have the winning bid for the butter dish. Most would listen. These were country people. They basically looked out for each other in a manner few outsiders could comprehend.

Interceding in this small way would be Chancy’s opportunity to repay the former teacher who had befriended her as a child and provided a temporary refuge from the daily emotional storms she’d faced at home.

The remembrance of her unhappy childhood settled like a rock in her stomach. She consciously pushed aside the negative feelings and began to wend her way into the throng, intent on trying to influence the bidding in favor of her old friend and mentor. As far as she could tell, there were only three dealers present who consistently bought Depression glass. She’d start with them.



The twin-engine Cessna 310 flew low over Serenity and set up for a landing at the rural airstrip. There was no control tower but that didn’t bother pilot, Nate Collins. Considering some of the storms he’d encountered in the course of his job, nothing much rattled him. The excitement of being a storm-chasing meteorologist had influenced him so deeply that he often felt a letdown when nothing dangerous was in the offing.

He banked, flared and set the wheels of the plane on the numbers painted at the end of the short runway. The challenge of perfect wheel placement gave him gratification even though he could have safely landed much farther down the asphalt. Cutting the power, he taxied to transient parking where a beat-up old green pickup truck waited.

An elderly man wearing denim overalls and a frayed jacket over a blue shirt got out of the truck, shaded his eyes beneath the bill of a sweat-stained baseball cap and waved.

Nate set his jaw as he returned the greeting. Grandpa Ted looked more unsteady every time Nate visited. Good thing he’d done his homework and lined up a retirement home for him and Grandma Hester before he’d left Oklahoma. It was high time they gave up this hard, dreary lifestyle and moved into a place where they’d be properly taken care of. And where he could look in on them every day if need be, Nate added, feeling pleased with himself for having taken the initiative and solving everyone’s problems ahead of time.

He turned off the plane’s engines, secured the controls and climbed down to chock the wheels and tie the wings down. As soon as he’d finished, Ted greeted him with a bear hug and a slap on the shoulder while the old, shaggy, black-and-white farm dog riding in the back of the truck barked a greeting.

“Good to see ya, son,” Ted said. “Good flight?”

“No problems,” Nate answered, grabbing his overnight bag and laptop computer. “I see you’ve still got that noisy old dog.”

“Yup. Domino and I are a pair. We’re both still hangin’ in there. He’s good company, especially when I want to sit on the porch and watch the world go by.”

“How’ve you been? And how’s Grandma?”

“Oh, you know us,” Ted said with a wide grin splitting his leathered face. “Even old age can’t keep us down. Your Grandma’s been bakin’ ever since we heard you was comin’. She’s made all your favorites.”

Nate rubbed his flat stomach with his free hand. “Good thing I don’t get to visit that often or I’d be fat as one of those pigs you used to raise when I was a kid.”

“Speaking of being busy, how’s the storm chasin’ business? After all those hurricanes a few years back, are tornadoes startin’ to look tame?”

Nate laughed and clapped the old man lightly on the back. “Not from where I stand. I’m glad I could sneak away for a few days. Tornado season is almost here and I never know what may pop up.”

“How’s this week look? Can you stick around a little while, do you think?”

“Probably. There’s a high-pressure ridge in place that should keep most of the bad weather out of the plains, at least for a few days. I’ll keep my eye on it.”

Nate walked toward the truck with his grandfather and paused to ruffle the old dog’s silky ears before he asked Ted, “Mind if I drive? I still have a soft spot in my heart for this old pickup.”

“Not at all. Keys are in it. It’ll be my pleasure to just ride for a change.” He chuckled as he hoisted the legs of his overalls and climbed stiffly into the passenger’s seat. The door slammed with a rattle and a dull bang. “Reminds me of the time I was teachin’ you to drive and you ran us into that ditch over by the Mullins place.”

“In this very same truck, back when it was almost new. I’m amazed you didn’t yell at me,” Nate added. “We did have some good times, didn’t we?”

“That, we did.” Ted’s shoulders shook with silent humor. “I wasn’t too sure it was gonna work out when you first came to stay with us but you turned out all right, son. Yes, sir, you surely did.”

“Thanks to you and Grandma Hester,” Nate said, sobering. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “I owe you both a lot.”

“Nonsense,” Ted said. “You don’t owe us a bloomin’ thing, boy.”

“Still, I’m thankful I’m in a position to take care of you the way you took care of me.”

Watching his grandfather out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction, Nate saw him stiffen and push himself up straighter in the seat.

“You ain’t gonna start that nonsense again, are you?”

Nate ignored his scowl. “It’s not nonsense. You and Grandma deserve a chance to kick back and relax.”

The old man sighed and shook his head as if he thought Nate was addled. “If I don’t have my chores and my shop and Hester don’t have her kitchen and garden to tend, we might as well curl up and die right now. I appreciate your concern, truly I do, but we’re not ready to retire from life.”

“Okay,” Nate said. He didn’t want to start off on a sour note. There’d be plenty of time to discuss making sensible changes during the remainder of his visit.

He drove out of the airport and headed down Byron Road. To his surprise, cars were parked on the grassy shoulder on both sides of the two-lane road as he neared its junction with Hawkins Mill Road.

“What’s going on here?” Nate asked.

“Farm auction.” Ted grimaced as if it pained him to say the words. “The Hawkins place. Jewel went first. Ol’ Pete was lost without her. He didn’t last three months after she died. Didn’t think he would.”

Nate arched an eyebrow but held his peace. Jewel and Pete Hawkins had been friends and neighbors of his grandparents for literally decades. Losing them both so close together had to have been difficult. He saw no need to point out the obvious correlation between their lives.

He slowed the truck, barely finding room to squeeze it through the single lane remaining between the parked vehicles, while Domino panted and paced from side to side in the truck bed, trying to sniff every vehicle they passed.

“Half the population of Fulton County must be here,” Nate remarked with disdain. “Who taught these people how to park, anyhow?”

“Old geezers like me,” Ted answered. “Your grandma wanted to come to the auction today but I talked her out of it. We’ll never live long enough to wear out all the junk we’ve already got, let alone find good use for any of this stuff.” When Nate’s head snapped around, the elderly man guffawed. “That don’t mean we’re ready to pack it up and move to some fancy old folks’ home, so don’t go gettin’ any funny ideas, y’hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nate slowed even more, edging forward inches at a time rather than scrape one or more of the unevenly parked vehicles. “I don’t believe these people. Don’t they care about their cars?”

“Sure they do. They’re just not in an all-fired hurry the way you are. Slow down. We’re almost home. Those chocolate-chip cookies you’re cravin’ will wait.”

Before Nate could comment, a slightly built woman staggered onto the roadway directly in front of him. She was carrying such a big box, her face was obscured and she obviously couldn’t see where she was going. He slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting her, jammed the truck into neutral and jumped out, fully intending the deliver a lecture on safety that would turn her ears red.

The woman must have heard him screech to a halt and get out because she peeked around the side of the cardboard box and gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that. I should have looked before I crossed. That’s my van right over there. The tan one that says Chancy’s Second Chances on the side. It’s not locked. Do you mind?” She passed the bulky box to Nate with a smile. “Thanks. That was getting heavy.”

Flabbergasted, he stood there in the middle of the road holding the box and staring after her as she turned and hurried back the way she’d come.

Traffic was beginning to pile up in both directions. Someone honked. Nate’s head swiveled from side to side as if he were watching a professional tennis match. True to her word, the woman had vanished back into the rapidly dispersing auction crowd. Southern manners dictated that he deliver the box to her van whether he liked it or not, and given the worsening traffic jam, the sooner the better.

As he stepped out of the way, he noted that Ted had slid behind the wheel of the farm truck. The old man leaned out the open window to call, “Can’t park here. I’ll go turn around and come back for you.”

Nate shook his head. “There’s no need for that. Just get out of this mess and go on home. I’ll walk over.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. It’s not far.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the house. Take your time.”

“Yeah, right.” Nate was miffed. Free time was the one thing he had far too little of. He’d come to Serenity for the sole purpose of convincing his grandparents to sell their small farm and move to Oklahoma where he could better look after them. He had not flown all those miles to waste one minute carrying useless junk to some peddler’s wagon. He was a man on a mission, a man with an important goal.

Reaching the back door to the van, he rested the leading edge of the box against its bumper while he tried the handle. It didn’t turn. It didn’t even jiggle.

Nate was considering abandoning the enormous box when its owner returned.

“Sorry,” she said pleasantly, “I forgot to mention that that door sticks. You have to give it a nudge to get it to open. Here. I’ll do it.”

There wasn’t enough room between the parked vehicles for Nate to step back, let alone turn and put down the box. Consequently, he found himself leaning awkwardly with the backs of his legs pressed against the bumper and grille of the truck next in line, while the woman wedged herself in front of him and the box to fiddle with the van door.

She was a little older than she’d seemed at first glance, he decided, probably nearly his age, although with her sun-streaked, golden hair pulled back in a ponytail and no makeup, it was difficult to tell. One thing was certain, she wasn’t afraid of hard work. It looked as though there was already enough heavy furniture crammed into her van to give anyone a good workout, let alone a woman her size.

She turned and tried to relieve him of the box. “Okay. I’ll take that now.”

Nate’s ingrained chivalry had kicked in. “No problem. I’ve got it. Where shall I put it?”

Her laugh was light and full of cheerful self-deprecation. “Beats me. I think I may have overbought.”

“I have to agree with you there. I take it you have a business?”

“Yes.” She pushed up the arms of her sweatshirt and extended her right hand. “I’m Chancy Boyd. Chancy’s Second Chances is my antique store. Maybe you’ve seen it. I’m one block off the square, behind the grocery market.”

“Sorry, no,” Nate said. “I’m just visiting.” He managed to shake her hand by shifting the box and temporarily supporting it with his forearm. “Nate Collins. My grandparents live right down the road.”

“Hester and Ted? You’re a Collins? Nice to meet you! Your grandparents are dears. No wonder you’re being so helpful. It must run in the family.”

Nate’s guilty conscience kicked him in the gut. Had he lived in a bustling city so long that he’d forgotten his upbringing? Apparently so.

He hoisted the cardboard box aloft and managed to wedge it into the cargo space above a carved dresser. “Actually,” he said as he brushed off his hands and the front of his lightweight jacket, “I got out of Ted’s truck to yell at you for walking in front of me. You might have been run over.”

Her bluish hazel eyes twinkled above a mischievous grin. “In that case, thanks for not smashing me flat.”

“You’re welcome.” Nate was rapidly losing his annoyance in the face of this young woman’s upbeat attitude. “So, how much more do you have to load?”

“You don’t want to know.” She made a face. “I’m sure I’ll have to make two trips to the shop to carry it all. They started bunching little items in piles to get rid of everything at the end and I wound up with a lot more than I intended to buy.”

She scanned the roadside. “You know, if we used your pickup truck to carry the excess we’d be done in no time. Where did you park it?”

“I didn’t. I told Ted to take it and go on home.”

“Bummer.” Her forehead wrinkled with obvious thought. “Say, since I’ve already settled my bill with the auctioneer, why don’t we drive over to their house to see if Ted minds if we borrow it? What do you think?”

Nate raised an eyebrow. He had no intention of telling her what he was actually thinking because it was anything but complimentary. He knew that helping a neighbor was customary in these parts but that didn’t mean he was ready to drop everything and come to her aid, even if her smile and dimples were pretty persuasive.

“Aren’t you afraid to go off and leave your stuff unattended?” he asked.

Chancy pulled a face. “I suppose you do have a good point, even in a place like Serenity. But borrowing the truck would be faster than my going back to the shop and unloading enough stuff to make room for the rest in the van.”

“Okay.” Nate saw no graceful way to turn her down without sounding snobbish. He cleared off the van’s passenger seat by gathering up a stack of framed photos and climbed in. “Then let’s go. I’ll just hold these while you drive. We can be back in a jiffy.”

“Right. Thanks!” She got behind the wheel, fired up the motor and cautiously pulled into traffic.

Habit made Nate glance in the rearview mirror on his side. The crowd was breaking up and other vehicles were also trying to join the outflow. Several car lengths back a thin, weary-looking woman wearing a bandanna around her long, dark hair darted into the middle of the street and stopped to stare after them.

Nate saw a car bearing down behind her. His breath caught. As he watched, she apparently came to her senses, whirled and stepped out of the way at the last instant.

“I don’t believe it,” he muttered.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, now. I almost saw an accident. Don’t you people ever look when you cross the street?”

Chancy laughed. “You’re definitely not from around here, are you?”

“How’d you guess?”

“It was easy. Didn’t you visit your grandparents when you were a boy?”

Nate sobered. “As a matter of fact, I lived with them for close to a year when I was finishing high school.”

He saw her brow knit. Then, her eyes widened and she stared over at him. “Nate? You’re Nasty Nathaniel? I don’t believe it!”

He huffed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that. How nice of you to remember.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just that all the girls my age used to have terrible crushes on you. I think our parents gave you that nickname to scare us, which had the opposite effect, of course. You disappeared when I was in the eighth grade. What happened?”

“I joined the Marines and then went on to college and got my degree in meteorology. That’s—”

“I know. You’re a weatherman.” She laughed softly. “I suppose you thought I’d say you studied meteors. Does that happen often?”

“All the time.”

“Then it’s my pleasure to prove we’re not all country-bumpkins around here, even if we don’t always look both ways before crossing the street.”




TWO


Chancy pulled up the winding, dusty drive and stopped her van in front of the two-story Collins farmhouse. It was a relic of a bygone era with the same kind of charm as the quaint antiques that filled her shop.

Hester had planted tall, colorful hollyhocks along a southwest-facing wall. The pale pink peonies were almost ready to flower and clematis vines had begun to creep up the archway framing the access to the front door. Soon after the peonies were done, an enormous hydrangea bush next to the raised porch would begin to droop under the weight of mop-head flowers in varying shades of pink and lavender. The overall effect was charmingly reminiscent of picture postcards prevalent in the forties and fifties.

Before Nate was fully out of the van his grandmother came dashing off the porch with a screech of delight and gathered him up in an ample welcoming hug. “I’m so proud you’re here!”

Blushing, he nevertheless returned her affectionate embrace. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Well, come in, come in.” She smiled at Chancy. “You, too, girl. Get out and come on in. You’re always welcome.”

“Thanks, Miss Hester. But right now I’ve got more stuff to pick up from the auction. Nate said we might be able to borrow your farm truck to haul it, if you don’t mind.”

The old woman’s gray eyebrows arched above the frames of her glasses and her smile widened as she looked from Chancy to Nate and back again. “’Course not. You two just go right ahead and take the truck. I’m glad to hear that some of poor Jewel’s precious things found a good home. Ted didn’t want me to go to the sale and I suppose he was right, I just wish…”

Breaking off, she glanced at the porch where her husband lounged in a white-painted rocking chair with the shaggy, black-and-white dog lying at his feet.

“If there’s anything in the van you fancy I’ll be glad to save it for you,” Chancy offered.

“I know it’s foolishness to value earthly possessions. Still…” Hester stood on tiptoe to peer in at the collection Chancy had amassed. “If I had just one special thing to remember Jewel by, it would do this old heart good.”

Nate spoke up. “We really should be getting back to the auction. Chancy left a big pile of stuff and we don’t want it to walk off while she’s gone.”

“’Course you don’t.” Hester backed away from the van. “You go on, now. I don’t need nothin’.”

Nate had replaced the short stack of framed pictures and photos on the passenger seat when he’d gotten out. Chancy leaned over, gathered them up and passed them to Hester through the open window. “Here. Look through these and keep all you want. I know there are several nice pictures of Pete and Jewel in the pile. I just bought them for the old frames.”

“Bless your sweet little heart,” Hester said with tears in her eyes. “What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” Chancy replied. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Then you have to come back for supper tonight. I fixed Nate’s favorite. Pot roast. We’ll eat as soon as y’all are done haulin’ and unloadin’.”

The look she shot her flabbergasted grandson allowed no argument so he immediately swallowed his objections and formally backed her up. “Yes. Please join us. I know you must be too tired to go home and cook.”

“That’s the truth,” Chancy said. “All right. I’ll be happy to come for supper. Thanks for asking.”

As Nate turned and headed for the pickup truck, he was shaking his head. Somehow, his well-thought-out plans for a serious talk with his grandparents had been sidetracked big-time. Well, it couldn’t be helped now. All he could hope for at this point was a peaceful meal and not too much inane conversation.

He snorted in self-deprecation. Anybody who recalled his detested nickname from a good fifteen years ago was probably full of colorful remembrances about his escapades as a wild teen; events he hoped his grandparents had either forgiven or forgotten. Or both.

The first thing he was going to have to do was win over Chancy Boyd and ask her not to make any embarrassing references to his past. The best way to ensure that, he reasoned, was to help her haul her auction purchases in Ted’s truck and then also offer to unload them.

It wasn’t a task Nate particularly relished volunteering for but in his view, some serious PR work was called for.



The auction was over and traffic had thinned by the time Chancy and Nate arrived back at the Hawkins place so they were easily able to find parking places. She drove past the closest one and left it for him so they could more efficiently load the truck.

Gesturing and pointing as she walked back toward him she called, “Over there. By that lilac bush. That whole pile is mine.”

“Wow. When you shop you don’t kid around, do you?”

Chancy had to chuckle at his astounded expression in spite of the fact she felt the same way when she looked at the enormous stack of bags and boxes. “Nope. When they group items like they did, it’s almost more trouble than it’s worth. Still, every once in a while I discover I’ve bought something really rare or valuable that I didn’t even know was there.”

“I hardly know where to start picking this up.”

“I know what you mean.” Pausing, hands fisted on her hips, Chancy scowled as she perused the haphazard pile of merchandise.

“What’s the matter?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know. It looks kind of messy, like somebody stirred it.”

“How in the world would you know?”

“I suppose you’re right. It just seems worse than it was when I put it here.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Just grab any old box and let’s start stacking them in your truck. I don’t think there’s anything breakable. All the glass and china is already in my van.”

“Gotcha.” He grinned at her. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”

“You can drop the fake Southern charm,” Chancy said, mirroring his amiable expression. “Just keep up the Southern gentleman act for a while longer and I’ll be satisfied.”

Nate passed her carrying a precarious-looking stack of tattered cardboard boxes. “What makes you think it’s an act? Maybe I’m a true Southern gentleman. After all, Ted’s my granddad and you already said you liked him.”

Laughing lightly, she gathered up an armload of old blankets and quilts and followed Nate. “That’s true. And kinship is very important around here.”

After she’d unceremoniously crammed the blankets into the pickup bed, they started back to the main pile together. “Lots of young people leave the Ozarks, thinking things must be better in faraway places, then find out otherwise and come home again,” Chancy observed. “Is that what your parents did?”

“No. Dad never wanted to come back here to live. My mother was city born and bred. She viewed life on the farm as one step out of the Stone Age. Never would even agree to visit after the first time.”

“That’s too bad. No wonder you didn’t fit in very well when you came to stay with Ted and Hester.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Nate said seriously as they continued to work. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of the trouble I had when I was here before.”

“Why not? I remember thinking that the local boys were treating you terribly. If it had been me, I’d have gotten mad and socked a few of them in the nose long before you did.”

“Just the same. Please?”

“Sure.” Chancy shrugged as she scooped up several paper grocery sacks containing odd bits of fabric and yarn. “No problem. I won’t breathe a word.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Just stick the rest of that stuff in the truck. I’ll go put these bags in the front of the van so the little pieces don’t blow all over town and then you can follow me to the shop. Okay?”

“Sure. One more trip and I’ll have it all.”

“Good. I…” Her jaw dropped. Thunderstruck, she blinked and scanned the street as if positive she’d simply made a mistake. Unfortunately, there was no mistake. “I don’t believe it!”

Nate paused beside her with the last of the boxes. “What? What’s wrong?”

“My van,” Chancy said breathlessly. “It’s gone.”

“What are you talking about? It can’t be gone. We were right here the whole time.”

“I wasn’t watching it, were you?”

“Well, no, but…” He scowled at her. “You didn’t leave the keys in it, did you?”

“Of course I did. I always do. My logo is all over the side. Who in his right mind would take a vehicle so easy to identify?”

“Obviously somebody who didn’t think that far ahead.” Nate reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a cell phone and tried to hand it to her. “Here. Call the police.”

Chancy snorted derisively. “Right now, I think there are two sheriff’s cars in the whole county and only one deputy besides the sheriff, himself. What makes you think reporting the theft would do any good?”

“Okay. Then, what do you suggest?”

“We chase them.”

“Chase them? How? We don’t have any idea which way they went.”

“Well, it’s better than just standing here staring at each other while my van gets farther and farther away, isn’t it?”

Nate sighed heavily. “Get in the truck.” He grabbed the bags from her arms and tossed them into the bed with the other auction purchases. “Like you said, it’ll be easy to ID your van, assuming we can catch up to it.”

Chancy didn’t see any better options. If whoever had taken her van intended to sell its contents, there would be no way to prove ownership once all that furniture was dispersed. And if the van itself was the target of the theft it could be repainted and sold or parted out. She needed her van for work. Desperately. Without it, she might as well quit the antique business.

Piling into the front seat of the pickup beside Nate, she slammed the door. “Okay, I’m in. Floor it.”



Chancy didn’t know how much stuff was blowing or bouncing out of the bed of the truck as they careened around corners and bumped through potholes but she didn’t care. They could always backtrack and clean up any mess later. Right now, she had other goals.

Nate skidded to a halt at the stop sign by the post office, where Byron Road intersected with Highway 62. Chancy had to brace herself against the dusty dashboard to stay on the seat.

“Which way?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Just drive.”

“That’s stupid. We won’t accomplish a thing if we wrap this truck around a tree. You live here. Think. Where would you go if you wanted to hide a van with a big logo on it?”

“Are you kidding? There are dozens of dirt roads all over this county. Any one of them would do.” She held out her hand. “Give me your phone?”

He handed it over without argument. “Are you finally going to be sensible and call the sheriff?”

“Yes, and no,” she said. “The first thing I’m going to do is start the prayer chain from my Sunday-school class.”

“What good will that do?”

Chancy huffed. “Plenty. Besides the value of prayer itself, it’ll give us lots more eyes all over town. Nothing gets past those women. They all know me. If my van is near any of their houses, we’ll hear about it.”

“Ah, the small-town spy network. Why didn’t I think of that?”

She couldn’t resist making a joke in spite of the trying situation. “Because you’re not from around here.” The way Nate’s dark eyebrows arched over his narrowed brown eyes almost made her laugh.

Only one phone number came to mind immediately so Chancy dialed it, hoping desperately that her friend was at home. It rang twice before she heard a cheery “Hello.”

“Louella!” Thank You, God. “This is Chancy. My van’s been stolen and I want you to pass the word to everybody as fast as you can.”

“Where are you? What happened?” the other woman asked.

“It’s a long story. I was at the Hawkins auction and somebody drove off with all my stuff. Tell everybody I can be reached at…” She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Nate. “What’s the number of this phone?” He told her and she repeated it to Louella.

“That’s not your regular number is it?”

“No.” Chancy made a face and glanced sideways at Nate, knowing what he’d think and wishing she didn’t have to explain when he could overhear. “My purse was in the van with my keys. I’ve lost my phone, my wallet, my checkbook, everything.”

“Oh, you poor thing. I’ll telephone the girls right away. Want me to call the sheriff, too?”

“Yes, please,” Chancy said. “I’ll be at the number I gave you. Please hurry.”

Nate waited till she’d hung up before he commented. “You really are amazing.”

“Why? Because I’m dumb enough to let some lowlife drive off with my whole life?”

“No, because you’re trusting enough to leave things sitting around in the first place. My grandparents refuse to listen to me and lock their doors at night, but that’s not nearly as bad as leaving keys in an ignition.”

“The keys were in this truck when we borrowed it,” she reminded him. “You have to understand how safe it normally is in a place like Serenity. We don’t have a lot of crime here. It’s like living in a bygone era.”

“Even the Old West had crime,” Nate countered.

“True. I guess I just figured the good Lord would look after my stuff.” She could tell by his expression that he thought she was seriously deluded.

“I should have known,” he said. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that your God-given brain was meant to be used for something besides a place to grow hair?”

“I’ve never heard it put quite like that but, yes, I guess I do bear some of the responsibility.”

“Some of it? You bear all of it.”

She flinched. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

It didn’t surprise her much when he replied, “Well, I sure would.”



Nate felt as helpless as a feather caught in one of the tornadoes he was so fond of chasing. They had covered most of the town and were working in widening circles to survey the outlying countryside. It had occurred to him earlier that they were on a wild goose chase but he kept hoping they’d spot Chancy’s missing van just the same.

Finally, he pulled over and stopped on the unpaved shoulder of the road. “Look. I’m sorry. This isn’t doing any good and we both know it.” It bothered him to see her shoulders slump with such dejection.

She sighed noisily. “I suppose you’re right. What time is it, anyway?”

“Nearly seven.” Looking at his watch he remembered their promise to his grandparents. “Uh-oh. I think we’d better call Grandma and tell her what’s going on. She’s probably still waiting on us for supper.”

“Oh, no. Poor Hester. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about anything but myself.”

“She’ll understand.” Nate pulled out the phone and pushed the button to speed dial.

“It’s me,” he said when Ted answered. “Chancy and I got hung up. We’re sorry if we put you out. Her van was stolen and we’ve been driving around looking for it.”

“Stolen?” The older man was incredulous.

“Yes, stolen. Right out from under our noses. One minute it was there and the next minute it was gone. We have no idea who took it or why but we thought maybe we could spot it if we drove around for a while.”

“Where did you see it last?” Ted asked.

“At the auction. Why?”

“Hold on. I thought I saw some activity over at the Hawkins place a few minutes ago. I’m gonna walk out on the porch for a second and take a closer look.”

Nate scowled while he waited. Patience had never been one of his virtues and he hated being put on hold, even for the short time it would take his grandfather to accomplish whatever was on his mind.

Ted returned with a question. “Where are you?”

“Over on the highway near Hickory Station. Why?”

“Well, I suggest you hightail it back here. Everybody else is gone but it appears to me that light brown van of hers is sittin’ smack-dab in front of the Hawkins place.”

“It can’t be.”

Ted guffawed. “Oh, yeah? Sure looks like it. ’Course, I could be mistaken. It’s a ways over there and it’s gettin’ dark so I can’t see real clear. Still, it might pay you to come on back and have a look-see.”

“Thanks. Keep your eye on it till we get there. We’re on our way.”

He glanced at the worried young woman sitting next to him and answered her unspoken question. “My granddad thinks he sees your van back at the Hawkins place. I don’t know how that can possibly be but he sounds pretty certain.”

“Praise the Lord!” Chancy was clapping her hands and grinning from ear to ear. “The prayer chain worked again.”

Nate huffed as he whipped the truck around and floored the accelerator. As far as he was concerned there had to be a sensible explanation for whatever had happened. Just because he couldn’t see the details of it didn’t mean he was ready to resort to giving credit to prayer or anything else unseen. It was far more likely that kids had taken the van joyriding, had had an attack of conscience and had decided to bring it back before they got in trouble with the law. It was just the kind of adolescent folly that had gotten him into trouble as a teen.

He considered expressing his opinion on the matter then decided against it. Although he did concede the probability of a Creator, he wasn’t willing to believe that God cared about the minute details of everyday life on earth.

He caught her peering at him. “What?”

“You don’t believe in prayer, do you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Wow.” She settled back against the seat and stared out the window at the passing scenery for a while before she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No problem. You’re entitled to your beliefs.”

“And you’re entitled to yours. I guess I’ve just lived in the Bible Belt for so long I forgot there were folks who didn’t think the same way I do.” She paused. “What brought you back to Serenity, anyway? Are you just visiting?”

“Not exactly,” Nate said. It seemed the perfect opportunity to draw her into his confidence and enlist her aid so he said, “I came to talk some sense into my grandparents. I want them to move to Oklahoma.”

Her eyes widened. “Whatever for?”

“For their own good,” Nate said flatly. “I have the perfect place already picked out between Oklahoma City and Norman, where I work. They’ll have everything money can buy and they won’t have to lift a finger. They’ll love it. And I’ll be close enough to look in on them more often.”

He noted that Chancy was staring at him as if he’d suddenly grown two heads or sprouted horns, so he said, “I take it you disagree?”

“Oh, yeah,” she drawled. “That’s a real understatement.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Because it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, that’s why.”

Nate couldn’t help giving her a lopsided smile. “Hey, don’t hold back,” he taunted. “Tell me what you really think.”




THREE


The dark-haired young woman hiding behind the tangle of wild honeysuckle vines along Hawkins Mill Road watched Chancy reclaim her van and drive away.

She’d missed bidding on the collage with the keys because the stupid auctioneer hadn’t recognized its value. When he’d bunched it with all those other pictures from the Hawkins estate, the crowd had pressed so close she hadn’t seen that it was included in that lot until it was too late.

She sighed and blinked back tears. Well, at least she knew where her picture had gone and who had it. That was something. She would have approached the buyer and offered to purchase the small collage right away if she hadn’t been afraid of calling undue attention to it. Now, she wished she had marshaled her courage and done so.

What she couldn’t understand was why she hadn’t been able to locate it in the pile of goods the buyer had left behind or later, in the van. It had to be there somewhere. She’d seen the woman carry it off amid all her other purchases, but then she’d lost track of it.

“I was just too frantic,” she reasoned. “I didn’t take long enough to look through all those things properly. I shouldn’t have gotten scared and returned the van till I was positive.” Well, it was too late now. Her hands were trembling and she felt sick to her stomach even though she hadn’t remembered to eat that day.

“What now? What would Sam do?” she wondered aloud.

A shiver of remembrance skittered up her spine and made the fine hairs at the back of her neck prickle. A better question was what would Sam do to her in a couple of weeks when he got out of prison? If she didn’t get her hands on all the keys she’d so recklessly lost, she knew she’d be in terrible trouble.

Her dusty blue sedan was parked in the driveway of an abandoned house just down the road. Since there was nothing more she could do with regard to searching Chancy’s van or antique shop today, she was going to get in her car and head for Mountain Home to buy back the other two collages.

“Please, God, let them be there,” she prayed under her breath. If those pictures, too, had been passed to new owners she didn’t know what she was going to do.

Tears of frustration threatened again. She fought them back. Who did she think she was, calling on God for anything? Her whole life had been one sin after another so why would He care what happened to her? She should be thankful no one had caught her driving that van and had her arrested. Instead, she was asking for more favors. What a fool she was.

Alone now, she climbed out of the overgrown ditch and onto the roadbed where she could dust off the legs of her jeans. It was a little early in the season for chiggers but chances were she’d picked up dozens of ticks or other insect bites by hiding in the brush. Well, that couldn’t be helped. A few itchy places were a small price to pay for having gotten away with car theft.

She smiled slightly. Maybe, when Sam came home and she told him about her escapade, he’d actually be proud of her.

“Not unless I get all his keys back,” she countered. That was enough to spur her into a trot. The sooner she drove to Mountain Home and picked up those other pictures, the sooner she could be back in Serenity and resume her search there.



Ted and his old dog came off the porch together to greet Nate and Chancy when they drove in and parked their respective vehicles.

“I see it was her van,” Ted said. “I watched you pick it up.”

Nate pulled the keys from the ignition and handed the ring to his grandfather. “Yes. And I suggest you not leave your keys in the truck anymore. It’s too chancy.”

She joined them with a slightly embarrassed grin. “Was that a pun?”

“What?” His brow knit. “Oh. No. Sorry. I didn’t think about that being your name. It was just good advice.”

“In this case I’m afraid I have to agree,” she said, sobering. “I don’t know what this world is coming to. We never used to have to worry about anything like that in Serenity.”

“Wrong,” Nate replied. “You always needed to, you just refused to see things clearly until today when you were forced to. Overlooking crime won’t make it go away, it just makes you a more likely victim.”

“Cynic.”

“Realist is more like it.”

Ted chuckled. “You two sound like Hester and me when we’re arguing about something. Come on. She’s nearly got supper on the table. We’d best go in.”

“I’m sorry to have made everything so late,” Chancy said. “I can’t imagine who had my van.”

The old man’s bushy gray eyebrows arched over twinkling eyes. “You know, if y’all were teenagers, I’d think you’d made up a tall tale so you could go joyridin’ instead of come on home to eat.”

“We didn’t!” Chancy insisted.

Ted laughed again. “I know. I keep a pretty close watch on the neighborhood and I didn’t see that van over there till a few minutes before you called and I told you about it.”

“Did you see who brought it back?” Nate asked.

“Nope. Sorry. But I do know for sure it wasn’t sittin’ there the whole afternoon.” He looked to Chancy. “If you told the sheriff it was stolen you’d best tell him he can quit lookin’ for it.”

“That’s right. I totally forgot!” She pulled a face and grimaced at Nate. “And that’s not all I forgot. You’re right about us being too complacent around here. I was so glad to get all my things back, including my purse and cell phone, I never thought about not touching the steering wheel or door handle to preserve fingerprints. I imagine the sheriff is going to be really upset with me.”

“If the thief is a kid, as I suspect, it’s probably just as well,” Nate said. “I can remember a few times when I was glad the law in Serenity wasn’t as thorough as a city department might be.”

She eyed him incredulously and saw a light of recognition in his eyes. After asking her to keep quiet about his youthful escapades, he’d just intimated he’d been in trouble and had therefore done exactly what he’d warned her against! It was funny to see a guy who was now so straight-laced struggle to think of a way to cover up his careless comment.

“Well,” she drawled in his defense, “boys will be boys. Since there was no harm done I guess it’s just as well I messed up the fingerprints. I’m sure we’ve all done a few things we aren’t proud of when we were growing up.”

Ted laughed as he led the way into the farmhouse. “I have tipped a few outhouses in my time,” he confessed. “But don’t you dare tell Hester. Her pa was sittin’ in one of ’em when I shoved it over. I thought it was her big brother in there. He’d threatened to beat me up if I kissed his sister and I was meanin’ to get him back for it.”

Chancy covered her mouth to muffle her giggles. “You didn’t!”

“Yup. I surely did. Boy, was that old man mad. He came boilin’ out of there ready for a fight. I hightailed it for the barn and hid till he went back in the house. Talk about scared. I was sure he’d find out and keep me from marryin’ Hester, but if he knew the truth he never let on.”

She started to follow Nate and his grandfather into the kitchen when she remembered she’d left her purse in her van. Again. If Nate realized what she’d done she’d be in for another of his lectures and that was not number one on the list of things she’d like to hear.

“You two go ahead,” she said. “I’ll be right with you. I just need to run back to the van for a second.”

“Make yourself at home and come on in whenever you’re ready,” Ted said magnanimously.

Nate followed his grandfather into the kitchen and they both hung their jackets on pegs on the wall. Hester was at the stove, warming the food, and Nate gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he peeked over her shoulder. “Mmm. Something smells good.”

“I hope it’s still fit to eat,” she said. “What in the world’s been goin’ on, anyway?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Where’s Chancy?”

“She went to get something out of her van. She’ll be along in a sec.”

“You be careful you don’t say anything unkind to her or upset her, you hear? She’s had it pretty rough these last few years.”

“She has? Why?”

Lowering her voice, the older woman took him aside to explain, “Her folks were killed by that tornado that blew through here a couple of years ago. Remember it?”

“Sure. It mostly took the tops out of the trees. If I remember right, it was only an F-1 on the Fujita scale. I didn’t realize Chancy’s parents were involved.”

“Well, they were. She took it pretty hard when she lost ’em both at once. She’d been on her own for a while before that but I think she blamed herself just the same.”

“For an accident of nature? Why would she feel responsible?”

“Because she wasn’t there to talk them into taking cover, I reckon. Her ma and pa used to fight all the time and she’d do her best to calm ’em down. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two hardheaded parents of hers were squabbling with their last breaths.”

Nate nodded. “I see. Thanks for telling me. It’ll keep me from putting my foot in my mouth.”

In the background his grandfather cackled. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You did a fair job of eatin’ your shoe when you were talkin’ out in the yard a few minutes ago.”



Chancy grabbed her shoulder bag, used her cell phone to quickly explain to her friend Louella what had happened, then called the sheriff to end the stolen-vehicle search.

Slamming the van door, she glanced at her reflection in the dusty side mirror. Any lipstick she’d had on in the morning was long gone and the ever-present freckles on the bridge of her nose stood out like spots on a hound dog. She looked about sixteen and felt at least fifty, maybe older. What a day this had been!

Pausing to remove her dusty sweatshirt and smooth her hair, she tried to convince herself it didn’t matter what she looked like. She was among friends, people who would accept her as she was. That was one of the things she liked best about living in a place like Serenity. Folks took each other at face value.

Then again, Nate Collins wasn’t exactly a run-of-the-mill resident, was he? He was as handsome as any man pictured in magazine ads and twice as interesting; him with that dark, wavy hair and those coffee-brown eyes that seemed to see right into her. Too bad she didn’t look at least as presentable as usual, wasn’t it?

Disgusted that she’d even think about wanting to impress Nate, she stuck out her tongue at the image looking back at her from the small mirror. Who cared? Certainly not her. As a matter of fact, she was glad she was so plain and natural-looking. Hopefully, that would convince him she wasn’t interested in him the way so many of her contemporaries had been when he’d lived here as a high-school senior.

In a way, Chancy felt as if she’d suddenly reverted to the awkward girl she’d been back then, particularly in the pit of her stomach. For some reason her long-banished teenage butterflies had reappeared and were creating a storm of flutters the likes of which she hadn’t felt for years. That was silly, of course. She was far from being a child and had plenty of hard-earned maturity to call upon in a situation such as this.

She straightened, squared her shoulders, tugged the hem of her T-shirt over her jeans-clad hips and headed for the house. If she hadn’t been worried about hurting Hester’s and Ted’s feelings she’d have climbed into her van and driven away. The notion was appealing. Then again, it wouldn’t accomplish a thing in the long run. She still had to deal with Nate long enough to get her auction purchases unloaded from Ted’s truck. Besides, everyone was waiting for her in the kitchen. The only gracious thing to do was swallow her pride and join them.

She patted the dog in passing, then entered the house and started across the small living room, following her nose toward the delicious smells coming from the country kitchen. In the few strides it took her to get there she laid aside her purse and reclaimed her confidence.

“Sorry if I kept y’all,” she said brightly, concentrating on Hester. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not a thing,” the older woman said with a smile. “Table’s set and everything’s hotted up. Just grab a chair and let’s eat.”

Ted was already seated at the rectangular dining table at one end of the kitchen. Nate held a chair for Chancy then tried to do the same for his grandmother.

She shooed him away. “Nonsense. I got work to do. Y’all just sit down and let me take care of this.”

Ted laughed. “Might as well mind her. When Hester gets a bee in her bonnet she’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Apparently amused by the mixed metaphor, Nate waited while she made two more trips to the table carrying a bowl of mashed potatoes and a dish of dark gravy with a ladle. Then, she settled into a chair next to her husband and Nate took the only remaining place, next to Chancy.

Chancy felt as if someone had plugged her finger into a fence charger. She knew if her hair hadn’t been pulled back into a ponytail, it would be standing straight up. The fine curls at the nape of her neck certainly tickled enough!

She kept her eyes on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth as she carefully placed a paper napkin across her lap. Off to one side she saw a flash of movement. Nate had started to reach for his fork, then had stopped abruptly.

She blinked nervously and bowed her head as Ted began to say grace over the food. Obviously Nate wasn’t used to praying before a meal and had nearly forgotten that his grandparents always said grace. How strange it must seem for him here. And how sad it was that he didn’t really fit in, that he probably never had. No wonder he was so determined to get his family to leave Serenity.

Her personal unease forgotten, Chancy began to pray silently for him. Lord, Nate has missed so much. Please show him how happy we are here and help him to understand, to share in what we’ve found.

Those simple thoughts calmed her fears and replaced them with an amazing tenderness toward the man beside her. It wasn’t she who needed to remember that she was acceptable just the way she was, it was Nate. For all his worldly polish and education, he was still needy, still on the outside looking in. Perhaps he always had been.

She would befriend him while he was here, she vowed. And maybe, just maybe, she could help him see why his grandparents were so content; why it was so very wrong to insist that they leave their perfect little home and move to unknown, unfamiliar territory.

Surely, given the facts, Nate would change his mind. After all, he was a thinking human being with the same God-given instincts they all shared. Just because he was a well-educated man didn’t mean he wasn’t approachable. Or did it?




FOUR


Supper progressed rapidly, due in part to the delay. Appetites were primed and even Chancy ate more than usual.

When Hester tried to press second helpings on her, however, she raised her hands, palms out, and politely demurred. “No, thanks. It was delicious but I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Little thing like you?” Hester said. “You need to add a few more pounds or you’re liable to blow away in a stiff breeze.”

Chancy tried to hide her instinctive reaction to the innocent comment but she couldn’t avoid comparing it to what had actually happened to her parents. Judging by the look of distress on Hester’s face she, too, had realized exactly what she had said and the sudden silence at the table was noticeable.

Nate cleared his throat and provided a welcome distraction. “So, Chancy, do you want me to follow you to your shop so we can get your stuff unloaded tonight? I hate to leave it exposed in the bed of Grandpa’s pickup all night. Never can tell when it might rain.”

She couldn’t help being amused. “You’re the weatherman. Is that your professional opinion?”

“I haven’t been studying recent reports but you know what they say about Arkansas weather. If you don’t like it, wait a few minutes and it’ll change.”

“That’s the truth.” She rose from the table and reached for her plate. “Just let me help Hester clean up and we can head for my shop. It shouldn’t take too long to move everything indoors.”

The older woman immediately sprang to her feet and wrested the plate from Chancy’s hands. “Nonsense. I always wash and Ted dries. We’ve been doing it that way for nearly fifty years and it’s worked fine. Now, scat. We’ll take care of straightening everything up.”

Chancy hesitated. “Are you sure? I hate to leave you with a mess.”

“Comes the day I can’t do my own dishes, I’ll give up cookin’,” Hester replied. “Go on. Time’s a wastin’.”

Looking to Nate for guidance, Chancy asked, “Is she always this stubborn?”

His gaze rested tenderly on his grandmother. “No. Sometimes she’s much worse. And when she makes up her mind there’s no arguing with her, at least not right then.” He leaned down to give Hester a parting peck on the cheek. “Don’t work too hard. I’ll be back with the truck as soon as I can.”

“Take your time, children,” the older woman replied.

Nate had ushered Chancy out onto the porch before she started to giggle. “Children?”

He chuckled, too. “I know. It is funny, isn’t it? I suppose, no matter how old I get, I’ll still be a kid in their eyes.”

“How old are you, anyway?” Chancy asked.

“Mid-thirties. How about you?”

“Twenty-eight, going on eighty-two,” she quipped, rubbing her back at the waist. “I shouldn’t sit so still after a day of heavy lifting like today. I’m really starting to feel the muscle strain.”

He walked her to her van, opened the door and held it for her. “We’ll get you unloaded in no time. Then you can put your feet up and relax.”

That made Chancy laugh again. “Relax? You obviously work for somebody else. People who run small businesses like mine don’t have the luxury of taking time off.”

“You can’t work 24/7.”

“Of course not.” She tossed her purse in ahead of her and climbed into the van. “I go to church on Sundays.”

Nate shut the door and backed away. “Right. Well, give me a minute to start the truck and I’ll follow you.”

As he turned and walked to the waiting pickup, Chancy watched him, pondering his reaction to her simple statement. Apparently, saying grace at the table was not the only practice of faith Nate Collins wasn’t used to. Unless she missed her guess, he wasn’t much for church attendance, either, which might help explain his off-putting reaction when she had given credit to God for answered prayer. She sighed. His closed-minded attitude probably bothered Hester and Ted a lot more than either of them let on.

Well, the night was young, she thought, starting the van and letting it idle while she watched Nate don his jacket before climbing into the cab of the truck. It wouldn’t hurt him to humor his grandparents and attend church while he was in Serenity. And in case he hadn’t thought of doing so for their sakes, she was going to look for an opportunity to suggest it.

Given the horrible losses she had experienced in the past few years, Chancy didn’t know how she would have coped without her faith, weak as it was. How anyone got through life without knowing and trusting God was an unfathomable mystery to her, one she had long ago given up trying to solve. Maybe someday she’d understand why things had happened the way they had. Maybe she never would. That wasn’t the real issue.

As far as her parents were concerned, she was the one who had failed, not God. When she’d had a strong, unmistakable urge to go by their house and see them, she’d resisted because she hadn’t wanted to listen to their squabbling. And they had died. It was as simple as that.

Logic and Bible teaching told her that God forgave her. What she couldn’t seem to do was forgive herself.



Darkness had crept into the empty antique shop behind the grocery store as the sun had set. The prowler had not come prepared to stay so long.

She squinted, trying to see, as she sorted through stacks of merchandise that had yet to be priced and placed on the shelves in the front. Once the precious collage went on sale there was no telling who might buy it or how soon it would be sold. If it left Serenity, say in the hands of a tourist, it could end up anywhere.

The young woman brushed away tears of frustration. How could she have been so careless, so thoughtless? Why, oh why, hadn’t she mustered enough gumption to offer to buy the collage when she’d realized she’d missed the bid at the auction? Maybe the dealer would have sold it to her. And maybe the antique buyer would have sensed the desperation in her offer and raised the price far beyond her ability to pay.

Well, there was no use speculating. It was too late to do this the easy way. Now, she had to either locate the valuable artwork and steal it, or take the chance it might come up for sale soon without her knowledge.

She was not willing to wait and see. Time was running out.



Nate followed Chancy down Main to Church Street and through the pothole-riddled alleyway next to the small grocery market. The area appeared to be even more run-down than he’d remembered.

He brought the pickup to a stop behind the van, careful to leave plenty of room for unloading. By the time he climbed out and joined Chancy at the rear door of her shop, she was already fiddling with a ring of keys.

“That’s odd,” she muttered.

“What is?”

“This door. I could have sworn I left it locked.”

“You didn’t?”

“I guess not. When I went to turn the key, it was already open.”

“Are you sure?”

“Relatively.”

Even in the dimly lit alleyway he could see her sheepish smile so he said, “In other words, maybe not.”

“Okay. Maybe not.” Giving the knob a twist she swung the door open. “Wait here. I have to go into the front to turn on the lights.”

“You don’t have a switch back here?”

“No. I’m only renting and I never saw a need to rewire the place. It’s a little inconvenient but I usually open the front first and take care of everything from there.”

Nate peered into the crowded storeroom. “This place is a maze. How can you navigate in the dark without getting hurt?”

“Easy. I know where everything is.”

“Still, I don’t think you should try it. I’m sure there’s a flashlight in the truck. Hold on. I’ll go get it.”



Chancy rolled her eyes as he jogged away. How silly he was being. She’d managed just fine all these years without anyone telling her what to do or how to do it, and she wasn’t about to listen to the advice of some bossy city slicker, no matter how well intentioned he might be.

She swung open the heavy wooden door, stepped inside the barnlike storage area and gave her eyes a few moments to adjust to the lack of light.

Armless side chairs hung from the rafters by pegs and below them, armoires, dressers, desks and other heavy pieces of oak and mahogany furniture stood in rows like sentinels, guiding her path. Admittedly the way was narrow but as long as she stuck to the main aisle she knew she couldn’t go astray. Besides, the longer she stood there the better she could see. Sort of.

Sliding one hand along the top of the nearest chest of drawers, she extended her other arm in front of her and started into the labyrinth that was her stockroom. She always kept the floor clear, so she knew there would be no unseen obstacles. She’d have the lights on and everything squared away long before Nate got back with his unnecessary flashlight.

Suddenly, there was a skittering, scraping sound to her right. Chancy froze. “Nate? Is that you?”

No one answered. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She held her breath. Listened. The only thing she could hear was the rapid beating of her own heart as it echoed in her ears.

Logic told her she was alone. Instinct told her otherwise. Logic suggested the presence of mice. Instinct insisted on a prowler, instead.

Well, there was no sense just standing there, she reasoned. If she backed out the door, she could reenter with Nate. If she pressed forward, she could turn on the light and banish her groundless fears. Relying on him did not appeal to her one bit. Proving her mettle, especially to him, sounded a lot more appealing.




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