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Hometown Family
Mia Ross


THE LAW SAYS…COME HOME! Since when is prodigal son Matt Sawyer a small-town farmer surrounded by kin? Since the terms of his late father’s will demand he stay in Harland, North Carolina. Terms that attorney and hometown gal Caty McKenzie has to ensure are carried out.Matt left Harland years ago and never looked back. But running the farm and spending time with Caty brings out a caring, faithful side of Matt that he didn’t know existed. And Matt’s soon to discover the real challenge: convincing love-shy Caty to stay right there with him.










The law says…come home!

Since when is prodigal son Matt Sawyer a small-town farmer surrounded by kin? Since the terms of his late father’s will demand he stay in Harland, North Carolina. Terms that attorney and hometown gal Caty McKenzie has to ensure are carried out. Matt left Harland years ago and never looked back. But running the farm and spending time with Caty brings out a caring, faithful side of Matt that he didn’t know existed. And Matt’s soon to discover the real challenge: convincing love-shy Caty to stay right there with him.


“After my mom died, it was really hard to be here. I left Harland the day after graduation.”

Matt had never shared that with anyone, and he had no idea why he’d picked now to bare his soul. Caty put an arm partway around his shoulders, and he felt himself leaning into her.

He didn’t know why, but just having her there made him feel slightly less miserable. When he realized he wasn’t fighting it, he knew he’d gotten way too close to this sweet, understanding stranger.

Angry with himself for losing his grip, he pulled away and got to his feet. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”

“Told me what?” she responded lightly. “We’re just out here, getting some fresh air.”

Her smile promised she’d keep his emotional meltdown to herself, and he managed a halfhearted one of his own. “Thanks… You introduced yourself as Caitlin, but everyone calls you Caty. Which do you like better?”

She shrugged. “Whichever.”

After studying her for a few seconds, he decided, “I like Caty. Suits you better.”


MIA ROSS

loves great stories. She enjoys reading about fascinating people, long-ago times, and exotic places. But only for a little while, because her reality is pretty sweet. Married to her college sweetheart, she’s the proud mom of two amazing kids, whose schedules keep her hopping. Busy as she is, she can’t imagine trading her life for anyone else’s—and she has a pretty good imagination. You can visit her online at www.miaross.com.




Hometown Family

Mia Ross







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


If you can believe, all things are possible.

—Mark 9:23


Dedication:

For Elaine

Acknowledgments:

First on this list is my editor, Melissa Endlich,

who generously took me under her wing

and made a place for me at Love Inspired Books.

Waving to all the wonderful folks at Seekerville (www.seekerville.blogspot.com) who offer advice when I need it and always make me smile.

Donna, you taught me how the law should work.

I hope you see some of yourself in Caty. Misty, no matter what, you can always make me smile. Beth and Elijah, you patiently listen to endless writer talk and remind me how cute little boys are.

Most of all, I’m grateful to my family and friends for hanging in there with me through the

tough times and celebrating the bright ones.

I couldn’t have done this without you.


Contents

Chapter One (#u669cd024-d986-541b-b7e4-5d1189b5adc9)

Chapter Two (#u880f32e7-2c6b-5ced-aad7-0656dd367722)

Chapter Three (#ud3e8d73c-c391-50ab-bcbb-cd4015fc0134)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Caty McKenzie hated funerals.

As an attorney, she’d attended dozens of them, for personal and professional reasons, but she would never get used to them. Some were heart wrenching, others were just generally sad, but no matter the circumstances, she couldn’t wait until the solemn ceremonies were over.

It was a two-hour drive from Charlotte, North Carolina, to her hometown. She pushed the speed limit most of the way and by the time she arrived in Harland, there wasn’t a single parking space open near the church. Cars lined both sides of the street, and people were walking in from as far away as Main Street. She wedged her MG convertible into a spot reserved for motorcycles and hurried toward the oldest of the four churches that framed the town square. At the top of the steps, she found a hand-lettered sign tacked to the open door.

“Our little church is not large enough to hold everyone this morning. Please join us on the south lawn to honor our brother Ethan Sawyer.”

She looked through the stained-glass window over the altar to see what must be more than two hundred people seated in chairs, on benches, some sitting on the ground or just standing. The outpouring of respect for Ethan made her throat swell, and her vision blurred with tears she didn’t dare shed. Once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop. To get through this awful day, she had to be strong and composed. Later, when she was alone, she’d give in and cry her eyes out.

Caty went back down the steps and headed across the grass. It was a bright August morning, with sun streaming down through the leaves on the trees while birds circled overhead, chirping to each other. To her mind, the beautiful weather didn’t match up with the congregation’s somber clothing and muted conversation. Today they were burying one of her favorite people in the world. It should have been gloomy and dark, not cheerful and bright.

As she searched for a place to sit, she glanced toward the podium at the head of the makeshift aisle. Wearing his customary gray suit and paisley tie, Pastor Charles was talking to an incredibly tall, broad-shouldered man with dark, curly hair. He looked vaguely familiar, and she actually did a double take.

Matt Sawyer.

Caty hadn’t seen him in, what? Ten years? Fifteen? She was in junior high when he had graduated from high school and left without a backward glance, off to adventures she could only imagine. Not that it mattered. Even back then, he probably couldn’t have picked her out of a three-person lineup. A North Carolina all-state linebacker four years running, in high school he was good-looking, self-assured and cocky. She’d admired him in a general way, but they had never been friends. You couldn’t be friends with someone who didn’t even know you existed.

Judging by his stiff posture, he was uncomfortable being here, and she couldn’t recall ever seeing him in church with his family. Caty didn’t realize she was staring until his gaze swung her way. It wasn’t her memory of her teenage years playing tricks on her—he really did have the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Accented by the determined set of his jaw, today those eyes were filled with misery. Caty knew she’d looked much the same at her grandfather’s funeral three years ago. No matter how long one had been away, it was always heartbreaking to come home to say goodbye to a loved one.

At a loss, she sent him a sympathetic look. All she got in return was a puzzled frown before he joined his family. One of his sisters leaned in and said something to him, but he scowled and shook his head. Undeterred, she said something else. His warning glare got through to her, and she gave up, facing forward with an exasperated sigh.

Calling for their attention, Pastor Charles addressed the crowd with arms outstretched. “If you’ll all take your seats, we’ll begin.”

Caty found an empty seat near the back and perched on the very edge of the bench. Aunts, uncles and cousins of the Sawyers clustered around them, lending support on what must have been a horrible day for them. Pastor Charles, bless his heart, announced that he’d keep things short due to the warm day. For Ethan’s children and grandkids, the brief ceremony was a godsend.

“And now, let us pray.” When everyone had bowed their heads, he continued. “Merciful Father, hear our prayers and comfort the Sawyer family in their time of need. Renew our trust in Your Son, whom You raised from the dead. Strengthen our faith that Ethan Sawyer, who died in the love of Christ, will share in His resurrection and live with You, now and forever. Amen.”

Silently, Caty added her own prayer for Ethan’s family. The aftermath of her grandfather’s death was still clear in her memory, and she knew they’d need all the good wishes they could get.

Matt and his younger brother, John, stepped forward to take the lead positions to carry their father’s casket out to the waiting hearse. John was clearly struggling to keep his composure, and Matt gave him a look of encouragement as they made their solemn way through the assembly. In response, John straightened and nodded back.

Caty had no idea how they endured that emotionally charged walk. Glancing up, she got the distinct feeling that Ethan was watching them with incredible pride. After the hearse door closed, the funeral director began organizing everyone for the trip out to the cemetery. Caty headed for her car, only to find it corralled tightly between a Cadillac and an enormous black SUV.

“Blocked in?”

She turned to find Matt behind her and tried to laugh it off. “The top’s down, so maybe I can just climb in without opening the doors.”

He gave her a quick once-over, from her white blouse and slim black skirt, straight down to her four-inch black heels. Her “funeral uniform,” it got more use than she liked. The skirt fell way below her knees, but for some reason his quick appraisal still made her blush.

“Not very likely.” Now he gave her car the same assessing look. “Nice MG. What year is it?”

“A ’68.” From the way he’d asked the question, she could tell she didn’t look familiar to him. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

* * *

He really shouldn’t admit it, Matt cautioned himself. Ladies liked to think they were unforgettable, and he always obliged. So he took a minute to study her. The longer he looked, the better he liked the view. She wasn’t model material, but the sunlight picked up strands of red in her brown hair, set off by fair skin and the dark green of her eyes. Looking closer, he noticed the freckles sprinkled across her nose. Totally at odds with her classy outfit, they made him think of summertime, but he still couldn’t place her.

Finally, he admitted defeat and shook his head. “Sorry.”

“At least you’re honest.” She held out her hand. “Caitlin McKenzie.”

As he shook her hand, he rolled the name around in his mind a few times but still came up blank. That probably meant he hadn’t met her recently, so he took a shot. “From Harland.”

He’d meant to make it a statement, stalling for time until he could place her. Instead it came out as a question, and he cringed at how lame he sounded. Then again, he’d already botched their little reunion so badly, he figured it didn’t matter much.

“John and I were friends growing up,” she explained patiently. “We graduated together.”

“So you’re a few years younger than me.” Even as he said it, he knew it sounded as though he was dragging his feet in this conversation. Which, of course, he was.

Suddenly, something far back in his memory clicked. “I remember Hank and Martha McKenzie.”

“My grandparents.”

“And a quiet little girl with glasses.” Considering how confident and classy she looked today, he had a hard time connecting her to that mousy kid. “That was you?”

“A long time ago.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his key fob and pressed the button. Across the parking lot, a dark blue pickup chirped in response. “You can ride with me if you want.”

As a limo pulled into line behind the hearse, she asked, “You’re not going with your family?”

He shrugged. “Not enough room for all of us.”

She gave him a doubtful look, but fortunately she didn’t press. “Okay. Thanks.”

When they got to his truck, he opened the passenger door for her. “Thanks for coming today.”

“I’m glad to do it. I just wish it wasn’t necessary,” she said as she climbed into the truck.

Standing inside the open door, he looked in at her. Her response sounded so polished, he knew she’d rehearsed it many times. “You’ve said that about a thousand times, haven’t you?”

“I guess so,” she admitted with a frown. “I’m sorry if I sounded like a robot. I just never know what else to say.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, staring at the hearse as it slowly left the lot. “Me, neither.”

As Matt settled into the driver’s seat, he finally placed her. “Caty Lee McKenzie. Valedictorian, right?”

She didn’t exactly smile, but it was closer to a grin than anything he’d gotten since she had introduced herself. “Right.”

Trying to salvage the conversation, he added, “Guess we didn’t run in the same circles at school.”

“I wasn’t a cheerleader.” Her smile evaporated, and she gave him a chilly look before turning to stare out the window.

She really knew how to hurt a guy. Then again, he thought as he put his truck in gear, he’d never really been into brainy women. They were way too much work.

* * *

After the mercifully brief graveside service, the long parade of cars headed through town to the Sawyer farm. As they drove along Main Street, well-kept houses stretched out on either side. Alongside the pavement were the original cobblestones, flanked by a canopy of oaks that dated back to the Civil War. In Harland, gardens were immaculate, porches were welcoming and the sweet tea was always fresh. Even though she’d left to realize her dream of becoming a lawyer, Caty had always been drawn back to the place that had made her who she was.

“I’m sorry for the reason, but it’s good to be home again,” Caty told him with a smile. “Someday I want to come back for good. How ’bout you?”

“I plan to stay as far from Harland as I can get.”

The certainty in his voice startled her, but she plowed ahead. “So, where are you living these days?”

“Charlotte.”

“Really? Me, too.” As of yesterday, that wasn’t technically true anymore, but she didn’t think he really cared that much. “How long have you been there?”

“A few months now,” he answered without taking his eyes off the road.

He didn’t elaborate, and she tried again. “I haven’t seen you since high school. What have you been up to?”

“I’m a mechanic.”

Oh, he was a real talker, this guy. “Whereabouts?”

“California, Arizona, Texas. Spent about a month in Michigan. Way too cold.”

She realized he’d answered her questions without revealing a single personal detail. He’d done it artfully, as if he’d had a lot of practice. Fortunately, her legal training had made her adept at worming information out of reluctant people.

“Do you like Charlotte?”

“Yeah.” Just when she thought he’d leave it at that, he added, “My boss hired me to work on classics at his body shop, which is great. I love old cars.”

Progress, she congratulated herself with a little smile. “How did you get into that?”

“Got certified for regular work, then started playing around with some clunkers at the shop I worked at in Houston. When I was done, the owner sold ’em for more than he spent on the wrecks. He cut me in on the profits, so I did some more. When I decided to move back to North Carolina, he called a friend of his and gave me a reference.”

She hoped to keep him talking by giving him a harmless compliment. “That takes a lot of skill. You must make good money.”

He slanted her a look she could only define as suspicious. “I do fine.”

Okay, so money was a bad subject. Caty switched back to classic cars.

“I love my MG, but I know next to nothing about it. If I get in and it starts, I’m happy. Come to think of it, it was making a weird clunky noise when I pulled in at the church earlier.”

“I can look at it if you want,” Matt offered as they pulled off the main road onto a lane marked Sawyer Farm.

“I didn’t mean to hint for free help with my car,” she explained. “I’m happy to pay your regular rates.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

Matt drove past the rambling white farmhouse and parked beside several cars in the turnaround in front of one of the barns. He shut off the engine and came around to open her door. The truck sat high enough that she could look him dead in the eye.

Making full use of the higher ground, she gave him her most intimidating lawyer’s glare. “Do not call me that.”

He gave her the most clueless look she’d ever seen. “Why not?”

“Guys like you use cute nicknames to cover up the fact that you can’t remember the names of all the women you date, that’s why. Baby, honey, doll, things like that.” She ticked them off on her fingers, grimacing in disgust. “It’s insulting.”

Shaking his head, he offered his hand to help her down. “Whatever you say, Caitlin.”

Batting his hand away, she climbed out on her own. “That doesn’t count. I told you my name half an hour ago, and we’re not dating.”

“Got that right,” he muttered.

The two of them stalked off in different directions, and Caty wondered if he was as glad to be rid of her as she was of him. She’d tried everything she knew to be pleasant, but he wasn’t having any of it. The man was hopeless.

The black Lab snoozing on the back porch lifted his head as she approached. When he recognized her, he thumped his tail in welcome.

“Hey, Tucker,” she said softly, scratching underneath the stars-and-stripes bandanna tied around his neck. “How’re things here?”

Brows furrowed in that Lab way, he cocked his head and whined. “I know,” she sympathized. “But don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

He answered with a couple more tail thumps, then settled his chin on his paws as she stepped over him to knock on the back door. When a familiar voice yelled for her to come in, Caty smiled and went inside.

All the windows were open, and whirring fans drew fresh air through the house. There were four women in the kitchen, one spooning batter into muffin tins, another emptying the dishwasher. The other two were arguing over how much coffee to put in Marianne’s commercial-grade double-pot coffeemaker.

With her graying hair and slender build, a casual observer would think the smaller one was at a disadvantage. Anyone who knew her knew she hadn’t lost an argument since she was old enough to talk. A longtime widow with eight grown sons and grandkids numbering in the twenties, Ruth Benton had the courage of a lion. And the heart of a pussycat.

“Ruthy, I should’ve known you’d be here.”

The field general of the little army dropped her point midsentence and turned to her with a delighted smile. “Caty Lee McKenzie, is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ruthy rushed over to fold her into a hug, then grasped her arms and pushed her away to look her up and down.

“Too skinny,” she chided, pressing her lips into a disapproving line. “What? They don’t have decent restaurants in Charlotte?”

“None as good as yours.”

“You could learn how to cook.” Ruthy took a pair of ruffled red oven mitts from the counter and pulled them on. “It’s not that hard.”

“Not for you ladies, anyway.” Caty included the others with a smile, then focused back on their leader. “The tables outside are full of food. What’s all this?”

Ruthy moved a wire rack to a clear spot on the counter. “Those kids will have enough to do without worrying about what they’re going to eat the next couple days.”

Caty looked around and laughed. “Couple days? I think they’re set for the week.”

“It’s not much.” Harland’s favorite chef waved off the compliment with her spatula, using it to transfer one of the yummy-looking pastries to the cooling rack. “Just a little of this and that.”

From the side porch, Caty heard voices and the sound of a filling washing machine. “Are they doing laundry?”

“Sure are. There’s a mountain of it back there, some clean, some not. I set two of John’s darlings on it. Told them they could each keep a pair of his boxers for their trouble.”

Caty grinned. “He doesn’t wear boxers.”

“They don’t know that,” Ruthy replied, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling as she winked. She shoved a tin of her famous blueberry muffins into the oven and turned to Caty with a suspicious look. “And how do you know that?”

“Truth or dare, junior year.”

The older woman studied her long and hard, then chuckled and shook her head. “If you ask me, a man’s old enough to live on his own, he’s old enough to do his own laundry.”

“Marianne likes taking care of him. Besides, his house is about a hundred yards away.”

“Still, he could come up here and take care of it himself. She’s got enough to do, what with teaching and taking care of her kids and this big house. I don’t know how Ethan got by without her all those years.”

“He didn’t eat as well, that’s for sure,” Caty agreed, sneaking a piece of flaky crust that had fallen on the counter.

Ruthy saw her do it but just smiled. “I always thought you and John would get together.”

Actually, he’d asked. Many times. Caty adored him, and tempting as it was, she had no intention of joining his endless collection of admirers. “Why ruin a good friendship?”

“All the time you were in college, you never brought a beau home. I know you had them, but did you bring them to meet me? Not once.”

“I didn’t want you to go stealing them away from me,” Caty replied with a grin.

She hmphed at that. “More likely you had that nose of yours buried in your books. You always did.”

“That’s what it takes to be successful.”

Ruthy pinned her with a knowing look, and Caty got the distinct impression that those wise blue eyes could see right through her. These days, she was accustomed to dealing with acquaintances, people who respected her but didn’t really know her. Sometimes she thought Ruthy knew her better than she knew herself.

“You’re way too serious, sweet pea. If you want to help, I’ve got plenty of big pans that need washing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Caty stepped out of her gorgeous but very impractical shoes and set them on the mat by the back door. Then she rolled up her sleeves, tied on an oversize apron and started scrubbing.


Chapter Two

Feeling very out of sorts, Matt took a couple deep breaths to calm his temper. He wasn’t easy to rile, but the very classy Caitlin McKenzie had gotten under his skin in record time. Maybe it was the intelligence driving her sharp tongue. Or the way she had looked at him with more sympathy than he deserved. After his nasty parting shot, he figured he wouldn’t get any more of that from her. It was his own fault, but he regretted starting out so badly with her.

Then again, he thought as he approached his family, that was the least of his problems.

His younger sister Marianne saw him first, and he couldn’t miss the annoyance she quickly tried to mask with the smile she usually reserved for company.

“Kyle,” she said, “why don’t you and Emily go in the kitchen and get a snack?”

“Sure, Mom.” He spun his little sister around and headed her in the right direction. “C’mon, Emmy. Grown-ups wanna talk.”

As they walked away, Matt was struck by how much taller his nephew had gotten. Eight years old, Kyle had a longer stride than Emily’s, but he slowed down to match her smaller steps. Responsible was the word that came to mind. He had to be, since his father had taken off four years ago, just after Emily was born, leaving Marianne to fend for herself.

“The kids were great during the funeral,” Matt said when he realized they were all waiting for him to say something.

“Thanks,” Marianne replied in the clipped, polite voice she probably used on telemarketers. “So were you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I was.”

“You’ve been on my back since I got here,” Matt shot back. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Maybe if we’d had your new phone number, we could have reached you in time to…” Her voice trailed off, and tears started gathering in her eyes. With a frustrated sigh, she said, “I think I’ll go see if Ruthy needs help finding anything.”

As she walked away, John plunked a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Don’t mind her. Losing Dad this way has been real tough on her and the kids.”

“It’s more like she still hasn’t forgiven me for leaving home fifteen years ago,” Matt complained.

“Actually, she understood that. It’s the never coming back she has a problem with.”

“I was back for Christmas.”

“Not last Christmas.”

“I told you.” When he realized how loud his voice was, Matt notched it down. “My boss booked a lodge in Telluride and one of his friends cancelled. I’ve always wanted to go, and all it cost me was a plane ticket.”

John didn’t respond to that. His disgusted look said it all.

“What do you want from me?” Matt demanded. He had nothing to apologize for, and he didn’t like being made to feel otherwise.

“I don’t know,” John shot back, eyes narrowing to icy blue slits. “Maybe for you to visit ’cause you want to, instead of feeling like you have to. Now that you’re in Charlotte, it’s not that far. Caty manages to get here every few weeks.”

“I have a life, y’know.”

Swooping in from the side, his baby sister, Lisa, wedged herself in between them, snaking her arms around them.

“We all have lives,” she reminded them in her peacemaker tone. “But right now, we have to stick together.”

That got their attention, and they let the pointless argument drop. They’d replayed it a hundred times at least, and Matt suspected John was as tired of it as he was.

When the porch door opened, they all glanced over to see Caty coming down the steps. Wearing an apron way too big for her, she set down on a nearby table the tray of finger sandwiches she was carrying. She’d ditched the fancy shoes, Matt noticed. Her bare feet made an interesting contrast with the buttoned-up skirt and blouse she was wearing. He wondered how her hair would look down around her shoulders, curling around those sparkling green eyes.

Get a grip, he warned himself sternly. She was very far removed from the kind of women he usually spent his time with. Then there was the whip in her voice when she basically scolded him for being male. It stung more than it should have, and he knew better than to ignore it.

Now, though, she was all warmth and caring as she hugged John and put a comforting arm around Lisa. “How are you two holding up?”

“Okay, I guess,” Lisa answered. “I didn’t get to talk to you earlier, but I was so happy to see you at the service.”

“Ethan was one of my favorite people. If he hadn’t organized that scholarship fund for me, I’d be drowning in student loans instead of just wading.”

“Ever since you were little, he knew you’d do something important when you grew up,” Lisa reminded her. “Dad just figured he was helping things along. He said, with you as his lawyer, he’d never have to worry about legal stuff again.”

“He convinced a lot of people in Harland to contribute money so I could afford to go to Boston College.” She paused with a fond smile. “It was an investment, he told them. When they needed a lawyer, they’d know one they could trust. Most of them couldn’t afford it, but they gave anyway. I’ll never forget it.”

That sounded like his father, Matt thought with more than a little pride. His dad had a knack for seeing things in people that even they didn’t know were there. If he’d seen it in Caty all those years ago, there must be something to it.

“Did Ruthy put you to work?” John asked as Caty removed her apron.

“Just a little. How’s Gina doing?”

“Fine,” he answered smoothly. “I think she’s seeing that plumber who just moved to town.”

“When I was here last, she was seeing you.”

He shrugged. “Things change.”

“There’ve been at least two since her.” Lisa ratted him out. “And those are only the ones I know about.”

“No promises, no hard feelings,” John said with a grin. “Right, Matt?”

“Don’t drag me into this,” he protested, raising his hands. “I don’t know where you learned that stuff.”

“From you,” Lisa informed him curtly. “Leading by example.”

“Anyway,” Caty said, “I’ll be in town awhile. If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

Her interpretation made Matt wonder if she was trying to protect him from another tongue-lashing. Considering the way she’d reamed him out, it would be pretty sporting of her.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Lisa reminded her. “Don’t you need to get back to work?”

For some reason, Caty hesitated before saying, “I decided it was time for a visit.”

While she chatted with John and Lisa, Matt was only half listening. There was more to her extended stay, but she clearly intended to keep it to herself. Matt knew all the classic signs, and there was no missing them. She was obviously close to his family, and he’d quickly learned she wasn’t shy about speaking her mind.

Whatever she was hiding, it must be serious. He barely knew her, but the thought of the pretty lawyer being in trouble really bothered him.

* * *

Around six o’clock, the last of the relatives left and the house was empty. After all the activity, the quiet rang with a sad finality. Caty was packing the last of the dishes into Ruthy’s catering carts when the Sawyers came into the kitchen.

“I just can’t believe it.” Sinking into a chair, Lisa stared down the table at the head seat where Ethan usually sat. “He’s gone.”

As she dissolved into tears, Marianne sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay, Lise. We’ll be fine.”

“No, we won’t,” Lisa sobbed. “We won’t ever be fine again.”

Patting her back, Marianne glanced at the far counter, which was still stacked with containers of food. “What in the world?”

“Ruthy,” Caty answered, handing over a handwritten note.

“‘The fridge is full, coffee’s ready to go,’” Marianne read out loud. “‘Warming instructions on everything. If you need me, call anytime. All my prayers tonight are for you kids. God bless you all.’”

Lisa sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Matt opened his mouth, but Marianne cut him off with a stern look and a quick shake of her head. Grimacing, he crossed the kitchen to get a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. As he stood with his back to them and stared out the window, Caty noticed the stiffness in his broad shoulders.

At least his brother and sisters had said goodbye to Ethan. Matt would never have that chance. How on earth would he get past that?

Not that it was any of her business, she cautioned herself. He was a grown man, and he made his own decisions. Why he’d chosen to neglect his family was none of her concern. She wasn’t in a position to advise him and, even if she were, he probably wouldn’t listen. Only a fool intruded where she wasn’t wanted. Which reminded her, she really didn’t belong here right now.

“Marianne, could I borrow your van to go into town? They’re holding a room for me at the B and B.”

“Don’t be silly.” Standing, Marianne turned on the flame under a teakettle labeled Full. “You can stay here. We all are.”

“Matt’s staying with John, and the sofa bed in the living room is comfy,” Lisa added as she thumbed through a basket of tea bags on the table. “I’ll be in our old room with Marianne, so you’re welcome to it.”

“It’s been a long day, Caty.” John took the seat across from hers and opened a jar filled with Ruthy’s famous oatmeal cookies. “You’ve been running around helping with everything, on top of that long drive. Just stay here and relax.”

Only one Sawyer hadn’t invited her to stay, and the silence stretched awkwardly as they all stared at Matt’s back. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Matt, is it okay with you if I stay?”

“Sure,” he answered without turning around. “It’s not my house.”

“It is now.” Marianne pinned Caty with a hard look. “Isn’t it?”

“We’ll go through all that later,” she hedged.

“We’ll go through some of it now.” Handing Lisa a steaming mug, Marianne sat down with her own. “I know Dad redid everything about a year ago, and since you were his lawyer, I assume you helped him do it. Next week, I’m supposed to start prepping my room for my new class. Kyle starts school the week after and Emily’s registered for pre-K. If we need to move, I have to know. Now.”

Caty hesitated. There were good reasons for not releasing estate details so soon. Emotions were too raw, and people needed time to deal with their loss before they got practical. Another reason was that if they got caught up in the provisions in the will, they put off grieving, sometimes with very serious consequences.

There were steps in the process, and it was best to go through them in the order dictated by psychologists who were experts in the field. In a psych class, Caty had learned about Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, who put the stages of grief into a nice, neat list: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. The Sawyers were still in denial. Intellectually, Caty knew they should go through the others before she told them anything.

Then she thought of Ethan, how deeply he loved his family. He wouldn’t want Marianne and her kids worrying about where they were going to live.

She began by giving Marianne a reassuring smile. “I can tell you all the buildings and land within three acres of the main house are yours. Provided you let John live in the carriage house as long as he wants.”

Marianne visibly relaxed. “Thanks, Caty. I should’ve known Dad would do it that way.”

“What else can you tell us?” Lisa asked.

They’d finally gotten Matt’s attention. He didn’t join them at the table, but he’d turned and at least appeared to be listening.

“We’re all here,” Marianne added. “And I’m sure you know the important things. Why not handle it now?”

Pushing aside her misgivings, Caty relented because she knew it was what her client would want. “Ethan’s major assets were his life insurance and the farm, which goes to the four of you. Whatever you do with it has to be a unanimous decision.”

Matt moved to the island and leaned in, looking like a drowning man who’d found a rock to cling to. With his bitter comment about staying away from Harland so fresh in her memory, she suspected that was exactly how he felt.

“You mean we can sell the farm?” he asked.

Caty circled the table with a somber look. “Provided you all agree, yes.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” John crossed his arms stubbornly, glaring at nobody in particular.

“There’s two thousand acres here,” Lisa chided.

“Twenty-two hundred and four,” he corrected her.

“With the price of land these days, it must be worth a fortune,” she continued. “You can’t knee jerk such a big decision.”

“I’ll buy you out then,” he insisted, looking to Caty for support. “I can do that, right?”

He looked so hopeful, she didn’t have the heart to remind him he didn’t have nearly the amount of money that would take. “If the others agree, yes.”

Marianne was toying with her spoon with a pensive expression. “If we keep the farm, who’s going to run it?”

“I will,” John volunteered. “I know every inch of this place, and all the guys like me.”

“Which is why they never listen to you,” she responded. “You’re one of the Indians, not a chief.”

“Dad must have had someone in mind,” Lisa said with a puzzled expression. “But who?”

* * *

Caty’s gaze landed squarely on Matt, and he thought his heart thudded to a stop for a few seconds.

When it started up again, he bit back a curse, because in his mind this was still his father’s house. Standing on the other side of the island, he was outside the circle at the table. Suddenly, it felt much too close.

“Not a chance,” he growled. “I’m not moving back here.”

“Matt, be reasonable,” Marianne said in that because-I’m-the-mom voice every kid hated. “Someone has to run this place, and Dad chose you.”

“We’ll hire a foreman.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “In the middle of harvest season?”

“You can do that,” Caty explained. “Ethan paid himself a salary, and proceeds from the life insurance can be combined with that to hire extra help. After twelve months, whatever insurance money is left goes equally to John, Lisa and Matt, and into trusts he set up for Kyle and Emily.”

“I’ll just take it out of my portion,” Matt offered. It would be worth every penny to keep his sanity.

Frowning, Caty shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Any remaining funds will be divided equally among the five of you.”

Matt barely stifled a groan. Without much in the way of living expenses, he could step in and run the farm for almost nothing. Hiring someone on such short notice wasn’t impossible, but the price was bound to be astronomical. If he chose to do it anyway, he’d be stealing money from the others. His father knew him well enough to be confident Matt would never do that.

While he searched for some kind of compromise, he stalled for time. “How much are we talking here?”

For the first time, Caty looked uncomfortable with the conversation. They’d put her in a tough spot, he suddenly realized, asking her to be professional while they sat around their kitchen table nibbling on leftovers. He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head while she shuffled through information only she knew. After a long silence, she finally answered.

“Half a million.”

Marianne gasped something incoherent, and Lisa squeaked, “Dollars?”

“Yes.”

John didn’t say a word. Rocking back in his chair, he stared across the kitchen at Matt, waiting.

The invisible noose was back, crushing Matt’s throat until he could barely breathe. They all expected him to backtrack and embrace the life he’d escaped fifteen years ago. Sure, he could do it, but it would drive him crazy, getting up at dawn every day for fourteen hours of backbreaking work that could all be wiped out by a single hailstorm.

He was not, and never had been, a farmer, rooted to the ground he walked on, worrying about blight and insects. Watching the sky and hoping for rain, watching the rain and hoping for sun. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.

The last eyes he connected with were Caty’s, and he finally found what he was looking for. Sympathy.

“This is a lot to consider,” she said in a firm, gentle voice he was convinced could soothe a rushing bull. “For now, I think it’s best if you just focus on finishing out the harvest. There’s plenty of time for the rest.”

“I guess you’re right,” Marianne agreed, dishing up some potato salad before passing it to Lisa. “The kids and I have a lot to do, getting ready for school.”

As the conversation began spinning around the new topic, Matt mouthed Caty a thank-you. She gave him an encouraging smile, and the invisible band crushing his chest loosened just enough for him to breathe again.

“I’ll go pull your van in, Mare.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her keys from their hook and strode out the side door.

Parking the van took all of a minute, but he wasn’t near ready to go back inside. It had been a long day of fighting against his emotions and biting his tongue to keep from upsetting his family. Deciding he needed some time to himself, he wandered through the backyard and over to the pond. He walked out to the end of the dock and sat down, letting out a long, frustrated sigh.

He was now one-fourth owner of a farm he didn’t want, had never wanted. At least the house was Marianne’s. He couldn’t stand living here for very long, but he knew he could never bring himself to sell the Sawyer homestead. It would have broken his father’s heart, and even though he was gone, Matt couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down. Again.

He heard a door slam, followed by the light footsteps of someone a lot smaller than John. His sisters would know better than to follow him out here, so it must have been Caty. As he scooped up a handful of gravel, he had to admit her sarcastic cheerleader comment had impressed him. In a classy, no-nonsense way, she’d put him firmly in his place.

She wasn’t like the other women he knew, he mused as he tossed a pebble into the water. Then again, none of them had a serious job like hers. None of them would have been at a funeral on a beautiful summer day when they could have been playing hooky from work at a lake somewhere. Lobbing in another stone, he watched the ripples work their way through the water.

“Hey, there.” Caty offered him something wrapped in a napkin. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Another stone plunked into the water. “Not really, but thanks.”

Anybody else would get the hint that he wanted to be left alone. But not this one. She actually came closer.

“It’s kind of warm inside. Do you mind if I hang out here for a few minutes?”

Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Thanks.”

She sat a couple of feet away, not too close but close enough that he couldn’t forget she was there. He also couldn’t miss the subtle scent of roses that had come with her. Light and sweet, it suited her perfectly.

Man, he was tired. Turning into a regular poet. He waited for her to say something so he could tell her he really wasn’t up for company. To his surprise, she remained totally silent. Leaning back on her hands, she looked up at the sky while she wiggled her toes in the water.

For a long time they sat there side by side, not even looking at each other. Matt continued tossing pebbles, and Caty seemed content admiring the surrounding fields. Frogs croaked around them, intent on being louder than the crickets, and a couple of ducks glided past, eyeing him warily. They reminded him that this was their place, and he was only visiting.

That didn’t do much for his mood, and he whipped the last few pieces of gravel into the water. None landed near the ducks, but they didn’t appreciate the noise and quickly changed course.

With his hands empty, Matt eyed the muffin still sitting on the dock. Deciding that he didn’t care if she thought he was an idiot, he picked it up and broke off a piece. He popped it in his mouth and sighed in appreciation. “Blueberry’s my favorite.”

“I’m glad.”

She still wasn’t looking at him. He knew because he kept glancing over, and he didn’t catch her eyes even once. This was a new one for him, since women usually connected with him pretty fast.

“Want some?” he asked, holding out the muffin.

“Sure. Thanks.”

As he handed her half, her eyes finally met his, and he was struck by the directness of her gaze. He dwarfed her and hadn’t exactly been friendly, but she didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by him. The cute suit had some guts. Who’d have figured on that?

They munched in silence for a few minutes, and Matt tore the napkin in half to share with her.

“Thanks.” After wiping her mouth and hands, she stood up. “I’ll leave you be now.”

Her bare feet rustled through the grass as she walked away from the pond. She was a few yards away when he heard himself call out her name.

She turned, and a shaft of late sunlight hit her like a spotlight. If he were superstitious, he’d think someone was trying to tell him something. He shook off the weird feeling and went on. “You mind hanging out awhile longer?”

She took a step toward him and stopped. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

She hadn’t pushed him to talk, hadn’t tried to be entertaining or lift his spirits. She’d just let him sit there and stare at the water. It made him wonder if somehow she understood how he felt.

When she sat back down, he realized it was getting cool and her pretty blouse wasn’t much for warmth. He pulled off his jacket and draped it across her shoulders.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Sighing, he stared at the house he’d avoided like the plague for so many years. “I wish I could’ve said goodbye.”

“You’re not just talking about Ethan, are you?”

Her perceptiveness was unnerving, to say the least. Avoiding her eyes, he stayed fixed on the house and shook his head. Then, for some insane reason, instead of leaving it there he started to explain.

“When I was ten, our mom got real sick. I didn’t know it then, but she had leukemia. She went to the hospital and didn’t come home. We had supper with her one night and the next morning she was gone. I never got to say goodbye.”

Caty put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He hated it when women tried to baby him, but for some reason her gentle touch didn’t bother him.

“That’s so sad. You must have missed her so much.”

“Marianne was seven, but John and Lisa were too young to understand. Lisa doesn’t even remember her.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. Even after all these years, talking about it was almost impossible.

Folding his hands in an effort to control his emotions, he stared down at them. “After she died, everything changed.”

He expected Caty to jump in and finish his thought, maybe fill in the blanks for him, but she didn’t. To his surprise, her patient silence actually made him want to keep talking. Hands clamped into helpless fists, he lifted his head and met those bright green eyes.

“The older I got, the harder it was to be here. I left Harland the day after graduation. Dad said he hated to see me go, but he understood. No matter what I did, he always said he understood, but I’m not sure he meant it.”

Matt had never shared that with anyone, and he had no idea why he’d picked now to bare his soul. Too tired, he figured, to keep his mouth shut.

“He loved you,” Caty said, rubbing his shoulder. “He wanted you to be happy. If that meant leaving home, he was okay with it.”

Matt wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t have the energy to argue with her. From leading his careless lifestyle to ignoring his family, he knew he’d disappointed his father too many times to count. Now it was too late to fix what he’d broken.

Tears stung his eyes, and he held them back with the heels of his hands. Caty put an arm partway around his shoulders, and he felt himself leaning into her. He didn’t know why, but just having her there made him feel slightly less miserable. The warmth of her went beyond the physical, drawing him in. When he realized he wasn’t fighting it, he knew he’d gotten way too close to this sweet, understanding stranger.

Angry with himself for losing his grip, he pulled away and got to his feet. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”

“Told me what?” she responded lightly. “We’re just out here getting some fresh air.”

Her smile promised she’d keep his emotional meltdown to herself, and he managed a halfhearted smile of his own. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He went a few steps, then turned back. “You introduced yourself as Caitlin, but everyone calls you Caty. Which do you like better?”

She shrugged. “Whichever. I’m not picky.”

After studying her for a few seconds, he decided, “I like Caty. Suits you better.”

* * *

Matt turned and headed for the house, leaving Caty there, wondering what on earth had just happened. While she’d also lost her own mother at a young age, hers had simply vanished from her life. Lost in an accident with a coworker who’d had a few too many drinks after work. Caty couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for a child to watch a parent wither away from illness. Matt had been old enough to know what was happening but too young to accept that she was gone.

Always missing her, wishing she could come back. Tears welled in Caty’s eyes as she pictured that little boy growing into a young man, bitter and furious, desperate to leave those painful memories behind. But Ethan had still been there, along with John and the girls. The pull of the farm fought with Matt’s need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Judging by Marianne’s coolness toward him, his solution had only created more problems for his family. Over the years, he’d probably decided it was easier to stay away than come home and face the music. Unfortunately, it had kept him from being there when they needed him, and he could never change that.

Guilt is a terrible burden to carry around, no matter how strong you are.


Chapter Three

After spending the night on the Sawyers’ couch, Caty woke as the sun started peeking through the living room’s sheer curtains. She was usually up before now, but her long day had completely knocked her out.

She folded the light blanket and stowed it with her pillow in a hand-carved chest. After a couple of tries, she managed to fold up the sofa bed and replace the cushions and throw pillows. Stepping back, she decided everything was the way Marianne had left it and glanced into the antique mirror next to the front door.

Dressed in one of John’s battered football jerseys and a pair of Marianne’s capris, she wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but she was more or less presentable. She caught her hair up in the clip she’d worn yesterday and padded into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker. While it gurgled, she saw Tucker sitting on the back porch, gazing in longingly through the screen door. He had free run of the entire farm, but apparently he was feeling lonely.

“Morning, boy,” she greeted him, holding the door open. “Want to come in?”

Panting, he thumped his tail with enthusiasm and looked over his shoulder toward the field road that wound alongside the woods.

“You want some company?”

The thumping increased, and he spun a couple of tight circles before settling back on his haunches with an expectant look.

“Okay.” She laughed. “Give me a second.”

Most of the cups were too small to hold her usual dose of morning coffee, so she ended up with a huge purple mug sporting “Lisa” in fancy silver script. The dot over the i was a star, and the mug played “When You Wish Upon a Star” when she poured in her coffee.

“Totally Lisa,” Caty commented to no one in particular as she spooned in creamer and sugar. After a quick taste, she decided it worked and headed out the back way with Tucker.

He bounded down the lane toward the restored carriage house John called home. When Tucker raced up the steps and did some more spinning, Caty noticed Matt in a chair on the little porch. The Lab ducked his head under Matt’s hand, delighted with the ear scratching he got in return. Ten seconds of that was enough, and he repeated his come-with-me dance for Matt.

“Looks like you’ve snagged a partner already, boy,” he said with a guarded look at Caty.

She’d thought they were starting to become friends, so it was tough not to take his attitude personally. Reminding herself that he needed some understanding, she bit her tongue and forced a smile. “Tucker’s motto is The More, the Merrier.”

There, she thought. She wasn’t exactly asking him to come along, but she’d made it clear she didn’t mind if he took the dog up on his wagging invitation. Matt didn’t move at first, but eventually he got to his feet.

“I’d hate to disappoint you,” he told Tucker, avoiding her completely. The dog bolted from the porch and galloped up the road, glancing back to make sure they were following.

Matt’s long strides quickly took him past her, and when he got to the top of the small hill, he stopped to look over at a gnarled old oak a few yards away. The impassive look on his face changed, and she got a glimpse of the same grief she’d witnessed last night. Out of respect, she stopped, too. He seemed to be wrestling with something, and she didn’t want to intrude. To her surprise, he turned to her with a pensive expression.

“This is—was—Dad’s favorite place on the farm.” He glanced out over the hill toward the wheat fields becoming gold as the sun rose behind them. “He had all that, and he liked this old tree more than the rest of it.”

Caty took that as an invitation to come closer, and she paused a few feet away. Judging by Matt’s anguished memories of his own past, she suspected that, while he respected Ethan’s fondness for the old tree, he didn’t share it.

“Y’know,” he said with a scowl, “you’re really easy to talk to.”

The warm blue of his eyes took some of the sting out of his comment, and she smiled. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It usually is. For me, anyway.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that, so she decided to ignore it. “Want some?” she asked, offering the mug.

When he hesitated, she thought he’d refuse, but he took it from her. “Thanks.” He swallowed some coffee with obvious difficulty and pushed the mug back at her as if it held something poisonous. “What’s in that? Frosting and whipped cream?”

“Creamer and sugar,” she answered, taking a sip to prove it wasn’t nearly as bad as he made it out to be.

“Any coffee at all?”

“Sure. At the bottom,” she added with a smile.

He looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink all night, and she was hoping to lift his spirits with some humor. Not that it should matter, considering the way he’d treated her. The problem was that it just wasn’t in her nature to stand by and let someone suffer. Her supervising partner had knocked her for that very thing on her last performance appraisal. He’d called it “excessive sympathy.” She called it being human.

Shaking his head, Matt gave her a flicker of the lopsided grin she remembered from high school. “Lemme guess. You’re one of those hot-fudge-sundae-in-my-coffee types.”

“Mmm, sounds perfect. Don’t tell me. You’re one of those high-test, straight-up caffeine types.”

“Most men are.”

“I know lots of guys who like gourmet coffee,” the lawyer in her had to argue.

“Your boyfriend likes it that way?”

“I don’t have one.” She had no intention of telling anyone in Harland about David. She’d left him—and those awful memories—behind in Boston. That was exactly how she wanted things to stay.

Matt grinned at her. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you’re a cynic who can’t see beyond Friday night.”

“At least I enjoy Friday night,” he returned evenly. “I’m not chained to a desk somewhere waiting for my life to start.”

Appalled by the very personal attack, Caty didn’t know what to say. She glared up at him, but he deflected it with an I’m-smarter-than-you-think-I-am look.

“Go ahead,” he goaded. “Say it.”

“Not in a million years.”

“Okay,” he conceded with a chuckle. “But I know what you’re thinking. It’s written all over that pretty face of yours.”

She knew he was baiting her, but she wasn’t a trout. Inwardly seething, she cautioned herself against getting too close to this guy. He might not realize it, but he was now her client. That meant she had to be friendly but professional.

Tucker doubled back and ran circles around them, flopping on the ground so Matt could give him a belly rub.

“I’m real sorry I didn’t remember you,” he said while he scratched behind the Lab’s ears.

The quiet apology cooled her temper, and she decided to give him a break. “That’s okay. I was pretty forgettable back then. Invisible, more like.”

Matt glanced over his shoulder. “Not anymore.”

Feeling her cheeks start to burn, she turned away, pretending to watch Tucker bound back into the tall grass. “So this was Ethan’s favorite place. Why?”

“We’d have lunch here sometimes, him and John and me,” he explained. “Y’know, like they used to in the old days. We’d eat and talk, mostly about nothing.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was.”

Matt seemed so distant from his family, Caty was amazed to learn how much he valued that simple memory. She’d have thought he’d do his best to forget everything connected to Harland. It was nice to discover she was wrong.

In his next breath, all semblance of nicety vanished.

“But I have my own life now.” Stepping closer, he glowered down at her. “Did you and Dad consider that when you boxed me into this little trap?”

Caty recognized that he was trying to intimidate her, use his size and considerable muscle to make her give in. She couldn’t miss the shift in his phrasing, dropping the responsibility for his predicament squarely on her shoulders. Fortunately, she had a weapon or two he hadn’t counted on, and she brought them out now.

She stepped closer, shrinking the distance between them to show she wasn’t afraid of him. Well, maybe she was a little, but she could fake it.

“Don’t get testy with me, Sawyer. I’m on your side.”

He opened his mouth, but she narrowed her eyes and cut him off with a warning look. Fortunately, he paid attention and settled for a disgusted sigh. It was insulting, but she let it go.

Pushing down her own frustration, she focused on the pain she knew he was feeling and softened her expression just a bit. “I’m trying to be patient with all of you. You’ve had a terrible shock, and I understand that. I’ll do my best to take some of the burden off you, but I can’t make it go away completely. The law works the way it does to protect everything Ethan worked so hard for. You have to be patient with me, too.”

That wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, and he planted his hands on his hips like a petulant child, looking anywhere but at her. Quit being such a baby, she wanted to say, but she held back. It wouldn’t go over well.

When he did meet her eyes, she saw something she hadn’t expected. Fear. So quietly she almost didn’t hear, he said, “I don’t know what to do.”

Her heart tripped over the raw emotion in those few words, and she swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. Hoping she appeared calm and dependable, she willed her most professional tone into her voice. “I know. I’ll help you all I can.”

The thought of working so closely with Matt didn’t thrill her, but she simply couldn’t leave him with the accordion envelope and letter of instructions that she gave most of her clients. Once the immediate crisis of bringing in the harvest was over, he’d have some big-time decisions to make.

Balancing his own wishes against the obligation he felt to his family simply wasn’t possible. He could put it off awhile, but eventually he’d have to choose between them. Someone was going to be incredibly disappointed.

* * *

After their little powwow, Matt and Caty headed inside for breakfast. As they came through the door, John and Lisa were already at the table and Marianne was dishing up some of the biggest omelets he’d ever seen.

“Where are the kids?” Matt asked, hoping they might give him a reprieve from the discussion he’d been dreading since Caty had outlined his father’s plans.

“The Millers invited them over to play, so I let them go,” Marianne replied as she set their plates on the table and sat down. “I thought we could use the time to talk things over.”

Perfect. Barely stifling a groan, he pulled out a chair for Caty and sat down next to her.

Marianne poured them both some coffee and set the pot on a cork pad.

“So, Matt,” she began. “How long are you planning to stay?”

The careless tone was completely fake, intended to throw him off his stride. Over the years she’d perfected it, and he’d felt himself tense up as soon as she opened her mouth.

Something nudged his boot underneath the kitchen table, and he glanced to his right to find Caty giving him the eye. She lifted her glass of orange juice and while she sipped, she shook her head just enough that he couldn’t miss it. He reminded himself they were all exhausted and more than a little on edge, trying to deal with something that had blindsided them all.

Matt wasn’t used to considering other people when he made his decisions, so this was an uncomfortable stretch for him. Hoping he looked reasonably calm and not scared to death, he looked at each of them in turn. “I haven’t decided yet. First I want y’all to tell me what you need from me.”

At a rare loss for words, his sisters traded confused looks. For the first time he could remember, he knew how they felt.

“Nothing,” John assured him. “You’ve got a life to get back to, and you should go. I’ll figure something out.”

Lisa started to protest, but he silenced her with an uncharacteristically harsh look. She glared back before stabbing a fork into her untouched breakfast. She didn’t say anything else, though. Marianne was completely silent.

Oddly enough, his family’s unwillingness to ask Matt to stay was what made up his mind.

“Okay, here’s the plan.” When he had their attention, Matt continued. “I’ll stay through the fall to get things squared away here. Make sure all the crops get in, do a total maintenance round of the equipment, stuff like that. Beginning of November, we’ll sit down again and see how things look.”

“What about your job?” Lisa asked. “And your apartment?”

“It’s only three months, so I’m not worried about the rent.” That wasn’t entirely true, but right now it was the least of his concerns. “I’ll talk to my boss and see what he can do. If he can’t hold a spot for me, I’ll find another one.”

“Jobs are hard to come by these days,” Marianne reminded him.

“Thanks for the news flash.”

His sarcasm got him a saucy look. “I just meant that if things don’t work out in Charlotte, you’ll have a job here.”

There was no way he was returning to Harland permanently. The compromise he was proposing would take him dangerously close to the edge of his limit. He’d go nuts if there was no end to his stint as a full-time farmer.

Now wasn’t the time to dig in his heels, though. They’d all have to cooperate to finish out the harvest season. “My boss knows what’s going on, but for this I want to talk to him in person. At some point, I’ll go back to Charlotte to see him and pack.”

“When?” Marianne asked.

“When I can,” Matt replied evenly. “I know flexibility isn’t your favorite thing, but if this is gonna work, you have to cut me some slack.”

“And you have to give me something to work with,” she retorted. “I can’t keep this farm and our family on track if you’re going to just do your own thing all the time.”

The rigidity rubbed him the wrong way, but she did have a point. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“We all will,” John added, and Lisa nodded enthusiastically.

Relieved at the fairly easy agreement they’d come to, Matt dug into his omelet. Loaded with diced ham and cheddar cheese, it was the scallions that gave away the chef. “Ruthy was here, I see.”

“She brought a huge basket of food just a little while ago,” Marianne answered. “I told her it really wasn’t necessary, but she insisted her boys couldn’t work all day without a proper breakfast.”

“I love that woman,” Lisa said around a mouthful of cranberry muffin.

“Too bad she can’t teach you to cook,” John teased. “Then maybe somebody’d wanna marry you.”

“Plenty of guys want to marry me,” she informed him haughtily. “I just don’t want to marry them.”

“Y’know, there are no knights in shining armor anymore,” he said, only half joking.

“There’s still one around somewhere,” Lisa shot back. “I’ll find him eventually.”

“Good luck, darlin’.”

“Women don’t like nicknames like that,” Matt informed him, carefully avoiding Caty’s gaze. “Makes ’em think you can’t remember their name.”

Lisa pinned him with a suspicious glare. “You do it all the time.”

“Not anymore. I’ve been reformed.”

“By who?” she demanded.

In between bites, he nodded at Caty. “She straightened me out yesterday. Imagine, all these years I’ve been doin’ it wrong.”

John laughed, and Caty sighed. “Sorry, girls. I tried.”

“Takes a brave lady to tell Matt anything,” John said, still chuckling.

“No lack of guts in this one, that’s for sure,” Matt agreed. For some reason, the conversation came to a grinding halt. They could almost hear the squeal of brakes, and Matt flashed a look around the table. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lisa replied quickly, pouring herself some more juice.

Silence seldom reigned in the Sawyer kitchen, but it settled like a weird haze over the normally lively table. Caty jumped in to fill the awkward silence. “Matt, could I ask you a huge favor?”

“Shoot.”

“Could you drop me in town so I can pick up my car and get my stuff?”

“Sure.”

He pushed back his chair to stand, but when Marianne cleared her throat he reluctantly sank back down. He knew what was coming.

“We have some tough days coming up,” she said, looking at each of them in turn. “We’re going to need every bit of strength from everyone in this family to get through them, but I think we all know that won’t be enough.”

She took Lisa’s hand on one side and Caty’s on the other. John reached out for his brother’s hand, and Matt swallowed a groan. “Marianne—”

“You don’t have to believe, but the rest of us do,” she informed him haughtily, her nose actually tilted in the air a little. “As part of this family, I’m asking you to just sit there and keep your mouth shut for thirty seconds.”

In response, Matt folded his hands and rested them on the table in front of him. The others bowed their heads, and he forced himself to stay in his seat. He hated this kind of thing, but out of respect for them he kept quiet. If they needed this, he wouldn’t ruin it for them by reminding them that God had very selective hearing.

“Lord,” Marianne began, “please bless our family with the patience and courage we’ll need to weather this storm. Guide us with Your wisdom and help us do what’s best for all of us. And please,” she added in a quivering voice, “tell our parents we love them.”

As John and Lisa added their own sentiments, a small hand settled over his and gave a little squeeze. Caty hadn’t lifted her head, but he appreciated the kind gesture. Her hand was a distinct contrast to his own. Dainty and polished, it looked vulnerable next to his much larger one.

Then again, he’d learned there was nothing vulnerable about Caty McKenzie. In her own way, she was just as tough as he was. She didn’t back down when she probably should, and she did everything she could for people who needed her. Even when they didn’t deserve it.

When he’d all but begged for her help, he’d fully expected some kind of runaround about it not being her job. Or she wouldn’t have time, or some other excuse. When she’d agreed, a huge weight had lifted from his shoulders, and he’d felt that he could breathe again. There was something about her. More than sympathy, more than kindness, it was something he couldn’t quite define. Then it hit him.

He trusted her.

Wary by nature, it usually took him a long time to trust people, but Caty had earned his confidence in just a few short hours. By refusing to let him push her away, she’d proven she would stand firm when things got hard. That kind of attitude probably came in handy when you dealt with other people’s problems all day long.

He figured it also made her a real handful, which explained why she was single. No man in his right mind would get tangled up with a woman like her. Still, after so many years of relying only on himself, it was nice to know the spunky lawyer had his back.

“Amen,” Marianne finished, the others echoing her in hushed voices.

Matt unfolded his hands to find them white from clenching so hard. He rubbed them together and stood. “Ready when you are, Caty.”

He was halfway out the door when Marianne called his name. Braced for a scolding, he turned back. “What?”

She gave him a smile so rare, he’d forgotten what it looked like. “Thank you.”

Some of the frost between them melted, and he returned the smile. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

When she heard the rock music coming from Matt’s truck stereo, Caty asked to change the station.

“Go ahead,” he replied. “I don’t really hear it anyway.”

She scanned until she found a popular local morning show, and he groaned. “You like country?”

“I like all kinds of music recorded in this century.”

“Perfect.”

“You said you don’t hear it,” she reminded him sweetly. “Would you like me to switch it back?”

“No, it’s fine.”

He did the male version of an eye roll, and she muted a laugh into a smile. When they got to the town square, she had to laugh. “My car looks kind of ridiculous, parked in the middle of nothing like that.”

“Just a little,” he agreed with a faint smile.

Before she could unlock the door, he came around to open it for her. These days, old-fashioned manners were hard to come by, and she’d gotten used to fending for herself. She had to admit, Matt’s chivalrous streak was pretty appealing. As if being darkly handsome and built like an oak tree wasn’t enough, she groused silently.

After she got out, he appraised her MG with an appreciative whistle. “This is one gorgeous car. How’d you get it?”

“My grandfather found it in a junkyard and towed it home with the parts in boxes. He restored it for me as a gift for finishing law school. He died a month later.” Her voice wavered, and she stopped talking. Her life had gone on, but it was still hard to face losing him.

“So it’s more than a set of wheels to you,” Matt said gently.

“A lot more.”

“Yeah, I get that. Never knew a woman that did, though.” Then he gave her a knowing look. “So…what’s the big secret?”

Her heart thudded to a stop. He lived in Charlotte, so it was possible he’d heard about it. Maybe some obscure article had shown up in the newspaper or online. The thought of it made her stomach turn. Falling back on her legal training, she counted to three and stalled.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I hope you’re better in court than you are at lying.”

“I’m a fabulous lawyer! An honest one,” she added with venom.

He didn’t react one tiny bit, and she blew out an exasperated breath. “You’re mean.”

“I’ve been called worse, believe me.” His eyes had gone a murky bluish-gray that could only mean trouble. “You don’t want to tell me, fine. But I know something’s wrong.”

Caty looked down at her gold MG key ring, rolling it around in her hand while she debated. When she met his eyes, she saw something that surprised her: concern. Matt was worried about her. She couldn’t imagine why he cared, but if she kept quiet, he’d only worry more. With everything else going on, that was the last thing he needed.

“You trusted me, didn’t you?” she asked.

He nodded. “I promise to keep it to myself.”

It hadn’t occurred to her that he wouldn’t, which shocked her. People had to work hard to earn her trust, but he’d already done it, without her even noticing.

“Okay, but not here.” She nervously glanced around to see if anyone was watching them.

His frown deepened into a scowl. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that I don’t want the entire town to know, at least not just yet. Do you remember where my grandparents’ house is?”

“Oak Street. I’ll follow you.”

Traffic had hit its usual midmorning lull, and they made it across town in no time. She parked in the cracked driveway, and Matt pulled in behind her.

As he got out of his truck, he stared at the house with a skeptical look. “How long’s this place been empty?”

“Three years,” she replied as she took a suitcase out of the tiny trunk. “I was living in Boston when Grandpa died. After the funeral, I just locked the door.”

“Boston,” he echoed in disgust. “Only use for all that snow is skiing, if you ask me.”

“I’m with you on that one.”

“Took you long enough to agree with me on something,” he grumbled.

“We Scots are genetically stubborn.”

He chuckled. “Is that we like ‘us,’ or wee like ‘small’?”

“So clever. You should buy a microphone and do stand-up.”

“Nah. John’s the funny one.”

She’d always thought so, but she was discovering that Matt had a wry sense of humor all his own. A little more subtle, but it was there if you were paying attention. A pleasant surprise, it made Matt seem more down-to-earth. When she put her key in the front door, she got a not-so-pleasant surprise.

It didn’t work.

Caty pulled out the old brass key and checked the color of its little plastic frame. Green, for home. It was the right one, so she inserted it again and added some elbow grease. The tumblers squealed but finally rotated with a very rusty click.

“Needs some WD-40,” Matt said. “I’m sure there’s plenty of other stuff around here that could use it, too. Might want to start a list.”

Making a face at him, she pushed the door open. “I’ll remember.”

Dusty was the first word that came to mind when she stepped inside. Musty was a close second, along with dark. The last were easy enough to fix. Two of the cracked shades ripped when she tried to raise them, and the dirty windows muted the sunlight. As she took a good look around, she thought maybe keeping things dim wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Looks like the set for a haunted-house movie, doesn’t it?” she asked, her voice echoing around the living room. Dust-covered sheets were draped over everything and busy spiders had fashioned cobwebs into creepy swags hanging from the ceiling and the corners of every doorway.

Everything was still where Grandpa had left it, right down to the salt and pepper shakers on the rack above the stove. With no one around to wind it, the grandfather clock in the hallway had stopped ticking long ago. Gram’s prized Queen Anne sofa still reigned in front of the picture window, and her heirloom china filled the hutch along the far wall. It was as if time had stopped, trapping the little house in the past.

It should have depressed her, but it actually did the opposite. After so many years away, searching for a place that felt like home, she’d found it right here where it had always been.

“Well, it’s looked better,” Caty joked, turning to find Matt still standing in the doorway. “Come on in.”

He came in a few steps and stomped his foot, unleashing the scurrying of furry feet. “Those are only the ones out in the open. There’s no telling how many more of ’em there are.”

“Afraid of mice?” she asked sweetly.

That got him. He joined her inside and folded his arms with a let’s-get-on-with-this look.

“Okay.” Nobody in Harland knew what had happened, and she wasn’t thrilled about fessing up. Taking a deep breath, she let the words out in a rush.

“I got fired.”

He didn’t parrot the words back at her the way most people would have. Instead, he asked, “Why?”

“You heard me mention that scholarship fund your dad set up for me.” Matt nodded, and she continued. “I keep a list of all the people who contributed, and whenever they needed legal help, I logged it in at the firm as client development. I came to Harland on weekends or vacations, did everything on my own time.”

“No one at your office knew?”

She shook her head. “Pro bono work was allowed only for approved clients and charities. If my supervising partner knew about my work down here, he’d pitch a fit. So I didn’t tell him.”

“But he found out.”

“He summoned me to his throne room this past Sunday morning and confronted me with a stack of papers. He claims he handles personnel issues on Sundays to avoid disrupting business, but I think it’s a power play to ruin people’s weekends.”

She heard the bitterness in her tone and sent up a quick prayer for patience. “Anyway, he didn’t have any actual proof because I did all that work at home with my own equipment and supplies. But he tripped me up like one of those moronic witnesses on TV. I decided to come clean and offered to make amends, but he wouldn’t hear any of it.”

“Nice guy.”

“Tell me about it. He told me I’d gotten too close to my clients, and it clouded my judgment where the firm was concerned.”

“Meaning you were too nice to us poor folk, and the bigwigs lost money.”

“Basically.”

She didn’t mention that he’d threatened to turn her in for more official disciplinary action. Even though she wasn’t sure it was a real possibility, just the thought of it scared her to death. She’d worked too long and too hard to risk destroying her career. While her instincts had told her to fight, she’d backed down and slunk out of his office before things got worse.

“Anyway,” she continued, “he and his wife had brunch plans, so he gave me one hour to clear out my office and leave. Then he had the nerve to check through all my boxes, take my key and lock the front door behind me. By Tuesday, I decided the best thing was to come home, and I started packing. I was renting a furnished town house, so mostly it’s books and clothes.”

Matt looked well-and-truly amazed. “You did that all by yourself?”

“I’m perfectly capable of— What’s so funny?”

He was grinning at her and shaking his head, for what was probably the tenth time since they’d met yesterday. She couldn’t determine whether she was truly that baffling or if the gesture was actually aimed at himself. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she wasn’t the kind of woman he was used to hanging out with.

“Nothing.” After a quick look around, he said, “But you can’t stay here. It’s a mess.”




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