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The Fireman Finds a Wife
Felicia Mason


Her Unexpected HeroWidow Summer Spencer is eager for a quiet life–without the worry of loving a man who lives life in the fast lane. But when fire chief Cameron Jackson starts to woo her, it's tough to resist his charms. Chief Cam can't ignore the sparks between him and the stately beauty. But when he learns she's from the richest family in town, he's not sure he can ever measure up to her expectations. Can he set aside his fears and give true love another chance?







Her Unexpected Hero

Widow Summer Spencer is eager for a quiet life—without the worry of loving a man who lives life in the fast lane. But when fire chief Cameron Jackson starts to woo her, it’s tough to resist his charms. Chief Cam can’t ignore the sparks between him and the stately beauty. But when he learns she’s from the richest family in town, he’s not sure he can ever measure up to her expectations. Can he set aside his fears and give true love another chance?


She wasn’t at all surprised to find Cameron at her side.

They’d worked as a team today at the soup kitchen. It gave her a new insight into the fire chief. Most men would have bolted after a woman’s rejection of a date.

She studied him for a moment. Cameron wasn’t just trying to get to know her. She’d seen him talking, then praying with a couple of people after the meal began. Many of them knew him and called him Chief Cam.

Just who was Cameron Jackson?

“I’m going to let Pastor Hines know that the soup kitchen needs some volunteers,” Cameron said.

“I’m just glad you and your friends came to the rescue. Thank you.”

At some point during the meal service, Summer had decided that a date with a

man who would give the homeless almost seven hours of his day was a date she’d like to go on.

Summer let Cameron escort her out the back door and toward her car in the parking lot.

“If the offer is still open,” she said, “I’d like to have dinner with you.”


FELICIA MASON

is a journalist who writes fiction in her free time. Her Love Inspired Suspense novel Gabriel’s Discovery was a finalist for the 2005 RITA® Award from Romance Writers of America. She has been a college professor, a Sunday school teacher and a member of several choirs. When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, traveling to new places, scrapbooking and quilting. She resides in Virginia.


The Fireman Finds a Wife

Felicia Mason




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


When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. Do not be afraid, for I am with you.

—Isaiah 43:2–5


For Pastor Matt Sabo,

who took a photograph of three ministers and provided the connecting thread that would bring together an idea that had been brewing with me for many years. Thanks, Matt, for prompting the idea for the Common Ground ministry that would connect three diverse fictional congregations.


Acknowledgments

A thank you to Melissa Endlich at

Harlequin Enterprises, who welcomed me back into the Love Inspired family after an extended hiatus.


Contents

Chapter One (#u89306117-e9df-5c93-b3fd-d8b21989cc17)

Chapter Two (#udb8587fa-a32c-5613-9a77-b28e3b9e3759)

Chapter Three (#u5e78f143-3078-5d9a-ad6c-e018087c318e)

Chapter Four (#u272616f5-2804-5c03-933e-9eb8f610bf19)

Chapter Five (#u87a2c6ff-9886-569c-a54e-77488b614911)

Chapter Six (#u874676d1-d4bb-5796-9ace-21a120d01865)

Chapter Seven (#u78799e51-957c-58d0-bb87-b2a35d4ef445)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

“I’m glad you made me do this,” Summer Spencer said.

Her older sister gave her an odd look as she sliced a sliver of cheesecake from the small wedge on her plate.

“Cheesecake, especially your raspberry cheesecake, is always a good idea,” Spring said.

The sisters were taking a break in the sunroom off Summer’s large, light-filled gourmet kitchen. Smiling, Summer put her own fork down, rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.

“Not this,” she said, clarifying with a nod toward the table. “I’m glad you made me come home to Cedar Springs. This was a good move for me. The only downside has been dealing with Ilsa Keller at Manna. I volunteered at the church’s soup kitchen to help people, not to be in a constant turf battle with her.”

“Ilsa can be...” Spring paused, looking for the right word. “Territorial.”

Summer grimaced. “Dictatorial is the word I’d use.”

With a nod, her sister conceded the point. “She means well.”

“We’re already shorthanded,” Summer said. “And three more volunteers have quit. One came to me in tears asking if I could do something, and another stormed out the back door five minutes before the evening meal service after a screaming match with Ilsa right in the dining room.”

“It sounds like the two of you need to have a heart-to-heart talk.”

Summer shuddered. “I think I’d rather have a root canal without any anesthesia. You know I don’t like confrontation, Spring. Besides, it’s not my place to tell the director how to operate the place. I’ve only been volunteering at Manna for a couple of months myself.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Spring said. “Long enough to see that if things continue the way they’re going, there may not be a soup kitchen at Common Ground if Ilsa chases or scares off all of the people who are running the place. No one gets paid to be there. Just like no one gets paid at any of the other church ministries. I probably put more hours in at Common Ground’s free clinic than I do at the hospital. You know how mom is about the homeless shelter. And you do remember that quote about what happens when a good man—in this case, a good woman—does nothing.”

While Summer pondered that, Spring dabbed her fork into the homemade raspberry sauce, then speared a piece of the fruit. “For the record, I didn’t make you move home. If you hadn’t already been thinking about it, you never would have come,” Spring said as Summer gave her an indulgent smile. “Besides, it’s good to have you here. It will take the pressure off me with Mom.”

Summer rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that. You know that once Lovie Darling gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her. And the idea that’s been stuck there lately is that one of us needs to get married and start providing grandchildren for her to spoil.”

The doorbell, a chime that echoed like church bells through the house, halted Spring’s response to that taunt.

Summer dabbed her mouth with a napkin and pushed her chair back. “Wonder who that is. I’ll be right back.”

Without even thinking about it, she pulled a small tube of lip gloss from the pocket of her tailored shorts and refreshed her mouth.

Leaning back in her chair and looking toward the front of the house, Spring observed, “Summer, there’s a fire truck outside.”

“A fire truck? Oh, dear, I hope nothing’s happened to any of the neighbors.”

The bell chimed again as Summer reached the front door. She pulled it open without looking through the peep hole to find firemen in full gear on her threshold. A ladder fire truck sat at the curb and a sport utility vehicle with the Cedar Springs, North Carolina Fire Department logo emblazoned on its side was pulled into her driveway.

“Good afternoon,” the firefighter in front said. “I’m looking for Summer Spencer.”

“I—I’m S-Summer Spencer,” she said, her voice quavering almost as much as her heart suddenly pounded. “W-what’s happened? Tell me, what’s happened?”

“Summer...”

She heard her sister’s voice behind her, but Summer only registered the officials standing before her, bringing her more horrifying news. Two of them were dressed in typical firefighter gear and the third, the one who addressed her, was in a dress uniform, the type worn by the brass to deliver condolences to the family of the deceased. In that moment, Summer’s hard-won confidence shattered and her sense of security evaporated.

She didn’t have the strength to go through it again. Not now. Not when she was finally stable, settled and starting her life over again in a place where the past didn’t haunt her days and where people didn’t give her pitying glances on the street.

“Summer...”

“No,” she said, “no,” as darkness enveloped her.

* * *

“Are you sure she’s okay?” Cameron Jackson asked.

The beautiful but unconscious woman he’d caught and lifted into his arms was just now stirring on the overstuffed sofa where he’d gently placed her.

His firefighters had sprung into action when she’d collapsed, one dashing to the van for oxygen and the other summoning an ambulance.

“I think so,” the efficient blonde said. “She was just a bit overwhelmed.”

Just like his firefighters, she didn’t panic when the woman fainted; she just reacted—in all the right ways.

“I’m Spring,” she told him. “This is my sister. Her name is Summer.”

Even given the situation, his mouth quirked up. She saw it.

“Our parents had a, let’s just say, unique sense of humor.”

Spring was taking her sister’s pulse while one of the firefighters got the oxygen flowing and the mask over her nose and mouth.

“Summer? Honey? Can you hear me?”

The pretty blonde tried to sit up and Cameron was quick to assist. He sat beside her offering comfort and aid, and wondering what type of attack she’d had.

In all his years as a firefighter and as chief in Cedar Springs, he’d seen fire victims and their relatives overcome with emotion. But never had he had someone pass out on him simply because he’d said hello.

Now that he could see she was recovering, he took a moment to assess the two women. They were clearly sisters, one a younger version of the other. Both had the porcelain complexions that were evidence of good genes. While dressed casually, the older in chinos, loafers and a white button-down shirt and the other in navy blue shorts and an identical white shirt, they both exuded the aura of wealth.

“W-what happened?”

“Would you get her a glass of water, please?” Spring asked the firefighter. “The kitchen is right around there,” she indicated.

“Yes, ma’am, Doctor Darling.”

Cameron looked up at her. Doctor? No wonder she hadn’t panicked.

As Billy sprinted toward the kitchen, Cameron helped Summer sit up. He stayed close though, afraid that she might faint on him again. A hand at her back held her steady.

“Spring?” she asked.

“Hold on a sec, sis,” Spring said as she tucked the ear buds of a stethoscope and took her younger sister’s vitals.

“You keep a stethoscope at the ready?” Cameron asked.

Spring smiled. After she finished, she draped the instrument around her neck.

“Some doctors still make house calls,” she said.

Cameron looked from one blonde beauty to the other. “You’re sisters,” he observed.

He could have slapped himself at the obvious remark.

“Give the man a cigar,” Spring said. But any bite that could have been in her voice was offset by a smile and a little wink. “Okay, Summer. I think you’re going to live.”

“I might not,” Cameron said. “You gave me quite a scare.”

The firefighter who had been dispatched to the kitchen handed Summer a glass with ice water. “Here you go, ma’am.”

“My mother is ‘ma’am.’ Please,” she said. “Call me Summer.”

Summer, Cameron thought. The name suited her. While he momentarily glanced up at the older sister, the doctor, his attention quickly returned to the younger beauty.

As a blush of color rose in her cheeks, a Scripture rose to his mind: The man who finds a good wife finds a good thing.

“I don’t need this,” she said tugging at the oxygen mask. “I’m fine, really.”

He watched as she took a sip of water from the glass and handed it back to her sister. She then seemed to notice him and the two firefighters, and her eyes widened in panic.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” Spring said.

Her cheeks got even redder, and this time Cameron suspected that it might be a blush of embarrassment. He wanted, inexplicably, to soothe the tension from her.

“My name is Cameron Jackson,” he said. “I’m the fire chief here in Cedar Springs. We,” he added with a nod toward the two crewmen with him, “came to check your smoke alarms. You requested the service from the department.” He said it almost as a question, something that made the woman smile.

The siren of an ambulance could be heard through the screen of the still open front door.

“Billy, go give them a sitrep.”

“Yes, sir.” The young firefighter gave a half salute to the two women and dashed toward the door.

“Would you like to go to the hospital?”

“No, there’s no need” Summer said, glancing up at Spring. “My sister’s a doctor. And I’m sorry. I guess it’s not every day that someone falls out over smoke alarm batteries.”

Cameron looked up at Spring, the pieces finally falling into place. Spring Darling. She was the doc who worked at the free clinic. They’d never met, but he’d heard of her. What he didn’t know was that she had such an enchanting sister.

“You’re Dr. Spring Darling,” he said.

“Guilty as charged,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake.

He did and was surprised to find that she shook hands like a man. The grip strong, steady and sure. It was a bit off-putting, but he didn’t know why.

“And I’m Summer Spencer,” the younger sister said, standing.

The handshakes were as different as the seasons they were named for. Summer’s was light, airy and barely there.

Fifteen minutes later, after the paramedics also checked her vitals, the firefighters Billy and Chip and the two emergency medical technicians who had arrived in the ambulance said their farewells, each licking his lips from cheesecake samples and clutching a plastic sandwich bag filled with homemade cookies.

Cameron was about to follow them when he stopped in his tracks. Spring, trailing behind to see him to the door, bumped into him.

“Sorry about that,” she said.

He turned.

“What’s wrong?”

“We didn’t check the smoke alarms.”

She grinned.

Summer, her purse slung over one shoulder, shook her head.

“I need to get down to the clinic, sis. First-aid kits and home fire extinguishers are in the kitchen, second shelf, and in the hall linen closet upstairs. My housewarming gifts to her,” she added for Cameron’s benefit.

“She’s the practical one,” Summer said dryly.

Ignoring the teasing Spring continued, looking at Summer but talking to Cameron. “I should see Mom at the clinic so I’ll call you in about half an hour to confirm the time for Sunday.”

Cameron got the subtle but effective warning from the older sister. Spring was leaving him alone with Summer, but would call in thirty minutes. He could appreciate the protectiveness, but also wondered if there might be more to it. She’d fainted at the sight of firefighters on her doorstep. Was that the residual effect of some trauma she’d suffered? Summer had a different last name than her sister. Was she pregnant? Ill? Where was her husband? She wasn’t wearing a wedding band, but that didn’t mean much to some people these days. Clearly the doctor had concerns, but Cameron kept his questions to himself.

“They took the new resident kits with them,” he said. “I’ll go grab one from the truck. Your home safety check won’t take long.”

* * *

While the Cedar Springs fire chief roamed through her house, Summer Spencer did what she always did when nervous or upset. She baked. By the time he returned to the kitchen, she had a batch of cookies in the oven and was placing dirty pans and utensils in the dishwasher.

“All done?”

“Yes,” he said. “You look good.”

When the color rose in her cheeks, he apparently realized the unintended double entendre. “I mean, the house. Everything is fine with the house. Your batteries are all replaced. Wiring looks... The wiring is fine, too.”

Summer took a bit of comfort in the fact that he seemed as uncomfortable as she was.

“So, you’re a baker?”

“Oh, no. I just dabble,” she said, shutting the dishwasher door and drying her hands on a towel.

“Your cheesecake rivals what’s sold over at Sweetings,” he said. “My guys and the paramedics left here looking like they’d found the keys to the cookie store.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Cooking and baking relaxes me.”

Years ago, she would have known what to say to this man, a man who so gallantly carried her when she’d fainted as if she were some delicate Southern belle with the vapors. But all that seemed to come from her mouth was inane chatter. She couldn’t seem to think straight. As a matter of fact, the only thought in her head was that she didn’t want him to go away believing she was a delicate little flower who needed a man’s protection. The fact that she’d lived most of her life just like that only spurred her determination to offer him a logical explanation.

The only problem was, well, she didn’t exactly have one of those handy.

“I wanted to explain,” she said, “about what happened at the door.”

He shook his head, cutting off her words. “There’s no need,” he said. “I’m just glad you got the all-clear from your sister and from the EMTs.”

“My sister is a pediatrician. I’m not a child.”

“No,” he said. “Of course you’re not.”

Something in his tone arrested her, but before Summer could decipher it or determine just why this man seemed to make her so—was it uncomfortable or just aware?—he’d hefted his bag and was headed to the door. He left a packet of materials on the foyer table next to a bouquet of flowers she’d cut from her garden just that morning. The cover design on the new resident’s packet, with a picture of a fire truck said: Welcome Home to Cedar Springs, North Carolina.

As she watched him back the fire department’s sport utility vehicle out of her driveway, Summer didn’t feel welcomed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was letting an opportunity slip away.


Chapter Two

At Manna, the Common Ground soup kitchen, Vanessa Gerard peered at the recipe Summer handed her.

“Summer, I can’t cook. Honestly, I can’t. I burn water when I try to make a cup of tea.”

“Vanessa, it’s easy. See, just five ingredients and they are all right here. The mise en place has already been done. And there are just four steps, easy peasy.”

“The meeson what?”

“It means all the ingredients are already prepped. So you don’t have to chop or measure anything. Just follow the steps on the recipe.”

The brown-skinned woman with the long braids didn’t at all look reassured. “We’re supposed to be helping these people,” Vanessa said, “not giving them food poisoning.”

Summer laughed and gave the soup kitchen volunteer a comforting pat on the back. “You’re not going to give anyone food poisoning. And you’re going to be shocked at how well they turn out.”

Vanessa had been coming in a couple of times a week to get out of the house. But this was her first time actually working in the kitchen. She usually served meals to the people who came to Manna at Common Ground. Many of them were homeless and came in for a meal before checking in at the homeless shelter, which was one of four community outreach programs operated by the Common Ground ministry.

The faith-based ministry known as Common Ground was formed by the pastors of three diverse congregations. Its mission was to strengthen Christian ties, unite the churches and to work together in community outreach and service.

Still looking doubtful, Vanessa eyed the recipe. “If you say so.”

Confident that the casseroles would be just fine, Summer went to check on the progress of her cookies, and then one of the other volunteers. Just a handful of the volunteers at the soup kitchen came in on regular schedules—a fact she quickly ascertained, so she never knew how many people might be available to help cook on any given day.

That was one of the situations that Ilsa Keller, as director of the soup kitchen, should have addressed. When Summer suggested setting up a schedule, she’d been told that things operated just fine and essentially to mind her own business.

For the Wednesday lunches and dinners, Manna needed at least four helpers in the kitchen, because of the extra baking required for the coffee fellowship after the weekly Bible study. At the volunteers’ meeting last month, when Summer noted that Wednesdays were especially strained and could use a dedicated roster of volunteers, Ilsa had shot her down until someone else said the same thing. And then the soup kitchen director had been forced to promise she would consider their suggestions.

But when only two volunteers showed up today, Summer talked Vanessa into assisting in the kitchen.

She grabbed a couple of heavy potholders, and then from one of the two double industrial-sized ovens, pulled out a tray of white chocolate macadamia cookies and an oversized flat pan filled with red velvet bars. She would whip up the creamy vanilla frosting for the bars after they’d cooled and she got the chicken soup on simmer.

“Summer, there’s someone here to see you,” Mrs. Davidson trilled from the doorway.

Startled, Summer glanced up. “Me? Here?”

The plump woman with the face, voice and disposition of everyone’s favorite auntie, smiled. “Yes, dear. Don’t keep him waiting.”

What him would be calling on her, and at the soup kitchen no less?

She placed the baked goods on cooling racks and slipped off the gloved potholders. “I’ll be right there,” she told Mrs. Davidson. But the woman was already gone.

Pulling the ever-present tube of lip gloss out, she touched up her mouth using the bottom of a baking pan as a mirror, making sure she didn’t have flour or some other ingredients on her face, then headed to see who’d come calling.

Summer was stunned to see him.

Cameron Jackson, the city fire chief, was at the soup kitchen and had come to see her?

She blushed at the thought that two days ago he’d carried her when she’d actually fainted on him at her front door.

Summer almost didn’t recognize him as he stood waiting in the dining hall, near the brick fireplace, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt sporting the Cedar Springs Fire Department logo. He looked like a regular guy, a handsome one, but a regular guy. Gone were the starched and pressed dress blues of his fire chief’s uniform. His blond hair looked slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his hands through it.

She looked around to see if someone else might possibly be waiting for her, but they were the only two people in the room. As she approached him, he stepped forward.

“Chief Jackson. This is a surprise.”

“Please, call me Cameron.”

“Cameron.”

She said the name tentatively, as if not quite sure she wanted to commit to the familiarity of it. She had pretty much spent the last two days trying to get him out of her mind—to no apparent avail.

She’d also tried to put out of her mind the conversation she’d had with her older sister the night of “the incident.” Spring had called to check in and see how things had gone. And she’d insisted that Cameron was interested in Summer, interested that way, not just as a new city resident.

It had taken a couple of days but Summer had finally stopped thinking about him. And now here he was.

Spring’s words came back to her: He wants to take you out, silly. On a date.

Summer didn’t see it that way. Spring insisted that Summer also hadn’t seen the way the fire chief looked at her Monday afternoon when he thought no one was watching, the way he’d gently cradled her and seemed to take a slightly more than professional interest in her.

Summer had countered that his interest was in making sure one of the small city’s new residents didn’t die on him. Spring just tsk-tsked, and told her to take a chance.

But Summer didn’t date. And she surely wouldn’t start with someone as...well, as male as Cameron Jackson.

He was muscular, not bulked up like a bodybuilder, but he possessed a strength and a sturdiness that said he was used to being a protector. She’d already noticed his dark blond hair, and now she took in his eyes, an easy blue that was comforting in an odd way—odd, because she didn’t need any comforting, at least not now.

“May I call you Summer?”

She noticed his eyes also seemed to light up when he talked.

“Y-yes. Everyone calls me Summer. My sisters are Spring, Autumn and Winter. Our parents had something of a twisted sense of humor. We were teased about it when we were younger. But now...”

Realizing that she was babbling, she closed her mouth, clasped her hands together and stared at the floor.

“I brought something for you,” he said, walking toward one of the long dining tables. The tables were already dressed for the evening meal with linens and functional centerpieces—clear bowls filled with apples, oranges and bananas for their guests to help themselves.

Her heart tripped a bit. He brought her a present?

“Well, for you to use,” he said, clarifying as if she’d spoken the question aloud.

Oh, dear. Had she?

“We’ve been collecting food over at the station houses,” he said. “I’ve tried to set a standard without preaching at the crews. Every time one of the guys uses profanity, he has to pay up with a canned good or non-perishable item that gets donated to Manna. I figured that would be an easy way to get the message across about the language while doing something helpful for the community.”

Summer glanced down at the half-filled brown paper bag.

“Congratulations. Looks like it’s working since you only have a few items.”

Cameron groaned.

“This is just what I carried in,” he said. “There are three big boxes in the truck.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Oh.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Summer didn’t know what to do with her hands. She’d been so long removed from the dating scene that she had no clue about how to act. Plus, Cameron made her nervous, like a filly not yet acquainted with the new trainer at a stable.

But the manners she and her sisters learned at Lovie Darling’s School of Raising the Seasons kicked in when Summer’s feminine wiles deserted her.

“Would you like...”

“I guess I should get...”

They both started at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You go first.”

He put his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked back on his feet. “I was just going to say, I’ll go get the other donations.”

“I was going to ask if you’d like a cup of coffee. I just took cookies out of the oven.”

His face lit up.

“If you think I’m going to pass up that offer, you need to think again,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

As Cameron hauled the boxed items to the kitchen, Summer put on a fresh pot of coffee and plated up a few of the white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.

He wants to take you out, silly. On a date.

Her older sister’s words echoed in Summer’s mind. Was that why he’d come himself instead of sending someone to deliver the donations?

* * *

By the time he got everything stowed in the receiving area of the big kitchen, she was waiting with steaming mugs of coffee, a plate of cookies...and a crowd. There with Summer was Mrs. Davidson from the Common Ground office, and a petite woman he didn’t immediately recognize.

Trying to get a few moments alone with Summer Spencer was more difficult than herding cats. If he hadn’t seen a spark of interest in her eyes, he would think she was trying to shield herself from his attention.

After she’d fainted in his arms and he’d taken some good-natured teasing at the station house about beautiful blondes falling down at the mere sight of him, he’d discreetly asked around and found out that she had just recently moved home to North Carolina from somewhere farther south, in Georgia. Instead of settling in at what was known as the Darling Compound, she’d purchased her own home.

The part he hadn’t bargained on was that Summer Spencer, the delicate blonde with the sad eyes and the killer baking skills, was a Darling, of the Darlings of Cedar Springs. The very wealthy, very cultured, pillars of town society Darlings.

“Chief Jackson, this is Doris Davidson and Samantha Burns, one of our volunteers.”

“Oh, the chief and I know each other,” Mrs. Davidson said. “How are you today?” she asked before taking a sampling of a cookie.

“Just fine, Mrs. D.”

The woman named Samantha wore an apron that had the Common Ground logo on the front. “Hello, there. Are you the chief of police or something?”

“Fire chief,” Cameron said.

“Oh, my goodness, Summer. These are excellent,” exclaimed Mrs. Davidson. “Would you be willing to make a couple dozen for me for my book group? I host next week and I was just going to get something from Sweetings. These are so much better.”

“You know I will, Mrs. Davidson,” Summer said. “Just tell me when you need them.”

She offered a small paper plate with two cookies to Cameron. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” he said.

Vanessa Gerard joined them a moment later. “I got the pans in the oven,” she said. “It was easy. I may try that at home.”

“Told you,” Summer said. “We’re taking a little break,” she said, serving up another plate with cookies to Vanessa. “Would you like coffee?”

“No, thanks,” Vanessa said. “Trying to cut back. Howzit going, Chief Cam?”

“Well, Vanessa. What about with you?”

She lifted a brow, gave a slight shrug and said, “It’s going.”

“You’ll let me know?” he asked.

Vanessa gave an exasperated sigh. “I always do, chief.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Cameron said.

Summer noted the easy familiarity between them and the nickname Vanessa used. A stab of jealousy or possibly disappointment shot through her. She had no claim on Cameron Jackson so she wasn’t at all sure from whence it sprang.

Mrs. Davidson, not recognizing the bit of tension that seemed to suddenly envelop the room, piped up. “I declare, Summer, the best thing that ever happened to Manna at Common Ground was you showing up when you did.”

Not willing to acknowledge her private reaction to Cameron and Vanessa, Summer gave Mrs. Davidson a sunny smile.

“Yes,” Vanessa said. “Mrs. D is right. Because if you hadn’t walked in here, they were going to dragoon me and that would have truly been a disaster in the making.”

Cameron glanced at his watch, then put down his coffee cup. “Summer, may I have a word with you?”

She glanced at the other three women as if looking for validation. “Uh, sure.”

Vanessa took in the boxes neatly stacked on the receiving bench. “Did you bring those, Chief Cam?”

When he nodded, Vanessa snagged another cookie from the cooling rack then reached for a clipboard dangling under the counter on an unseen hook. “That’s something I can do—log in donations.”

“Come along, dear,” Mrs. Davidson told Samantha Burns. “Break’s over. We have quite a bit to do before our guests arrive.”

With thanks to Summer for the cookies and their goodbyes to the fire chief, the two hustled off. Vanessa went to tend to the donations from the fire department and Cameron steered Summer back toward the dining hall for a few words in private.

His arm brushed hers as he held the door open and Summer’s breath caught at the unexpected contact. If he noticed, he didn’t let on. He was probably just happy she didn’t pass out on him again.

She told herself to stop acting like a ninny. She was twenty-eight years old, not sixteen.

In the dining hall, he pulled out a chair at one of the tables and held it out for her to be seated. Appreciating the small gesture, Summer murmured a “thank you” as he settled in the seat next to her.

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” he said.

Oh, great, she thought. He thinks I’m an invalid. Inexplicably, she wanted to explain.

“Thank you again,” she said, “for what you did the other day. It was a reflex, I think. I thought something was wrong. You all caught me by surprise.”

Cameron smiled. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The abrupt change of topic more than startled her.

“Dinner? Us. Together.”

She shook her head slightly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

She wanted to explain. Dinner meant they would be out together. On a date. But Summer couldn’t date. Didn’t date. And the explanation she’d been all ready to give him fled from her brain, right along with her courage.

“I’m...” she swallowed and got a hold of her tongue if not her suddenly racing heart. “My husband might not approve.”


Chapter Three

The stricken look on his face convicted her.

“You’re married?”

His gaze dipped to her left hand resting on the table. Self-conscious, she put both ringless hands in her lap.

Taking a deep breath, Summer decided that being open and honest about her situation was her best course of action.

“Chief Jackson, I want to explain something to you.”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. But a moment later, he sighed and released the defensive gesture.

Offering a tremulous smile, Summer got her thoughts together. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to open up on this, she needed to. Enough time had passed, and moving home to Cedar Springs was her big step toward reclaiming her life.

“Seeing you and your men on my doorstep,” she began, “was a shock. A bad shock to my system. I’d truly forgotten about the new resident’s home safety check I’d requested.”

She swallowed, took a ragged breath and then offered up a little prayer for strength.

“The last time men in uniform came to my front door, it was to tell me that my husband had been killed.”

His eyes widened and he reached for her hands in a comforting gesture. But before he could offer the obligatory, “I’m sorry” condolences, she rushed on.

“It’s coming on two years,” she said. “I moved home to start a new chapter in my life. I sold our place in Macon and bought the house here, a house where I could make new memories instead of dwelling on the past. Seeing you, the three of you,” she quickly clarified, “standing there looking official, well, it just derailed me a bit.”

She took a deep breath, hoping that he understood, even while she acknowledged to herself that dumping baggage at his feet was not a good way to win friends and influence people.

There was something comforting about this man. Unlike some people who listened long enough to gauge when and where they could break in with their own words and experiences, he seemed to listen to her with his whole body.

That, Summer decided, was both comforting and disconcerting.

* * *

Cameron felt like a heel.

So much made sense now. The protectiveness of her sister at the house. The uncertainty he sensed in Summer. The almost-sadness of her eyes. He had known that she’d moved to North Carolina from Georgia, but had come to the erroneous conclusion that the move home was to be near family, not to escape her grief.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m very sorry for your loss, and for rushing you.”

Summer shook head. “That’s just it, you weren’t rushing me. I should be,” she gave a little shrug, “I guess you’d say, ‘over it’ by now.”

This time he did clasp her hands in his. “You never get over losing someone special,” he said.

She smiled this time. Then extricated her hands from his.

“Thank you for asking me out,” she said. “But the answer is still...”

“Shh,” he said, cutting her off before she could finish. “I know.”

Summer pushed back her chair and rose, the movement graceful.

“I really need to get back to work,” she told him. “We’re shorthanded today. Vanessa and Samantha are the only two volunteers who showed up, and I borrowed Samantha from Mrs. D, who really needs her in the office.”

He rose, as well, and escorted Summer back to the kitchen, where a buzzer was going off and Vanessa was struggling to get a handle on a big pot that seemed to be boiling over.

“Oh, dear. That’s the stock for the chicken soup.”

Cameron rushed forward and gave Vanessa a hand by moving the pot to another burner on the industrial-sized stove. Summer turned off the timer that was set on a continuous buzz, then slipped on a pair of thick pot-holder gloves and went to one of the ovens. As she pulled out a pan, Cameron came forward.

“Is that a turkey?” he asked, amazement in his voice.

He spied some dish towels on the prep counter and used them to safeguard his hands as he took over the lifting for her. “Here, I’ll get that.”

“Thanks,” Summer said, relinquishing the task to him. “And yes, it’s a turkey. There are two more in the bottom ovens. Both are ready to come out, too, if you don’t mind.”

Cameron knew about the soup kitchen: it was one of four ongoing ministries operated by Common Ground, the coalition formed by three congregations in Cedar Springs. As a member of The Fellowship, he regularly contributed to Common Ground. And as fire chief, he knew the buildings where the homeless shelter, the free clinic and the soup kitchen were located, but he’d never actually been to any of them, just the recreation center where he sometimes played baseball with a youth league.

“How many people do you cook for?” Cameron asked.

“We never really know, but on average about ninety to a hundred, sometimes more, especially on Wednesdays, when there’s also the Bible study and snacks afterward.”

“And you’re cooking for a hundred people, just the two of you?”

Summer shrugged. “We do what has to be done. And reinforcements will be in closer to serving time. I came in early to get the turkeys going. They’re actually for sandwiches on Thursday.”

Cameron found himself walloped somewhere between amazed and dismayed. He’d come here on his morning off to see Summer Spencer, taking over the food donation delivery duty because it gave him a legitimate excuse to show up at Manna.

Now he realized that maybe it wasn’t just for his own selfish reasons that he was here at this time and place. He was supposed to be here today.

The Lord worked in mysterious ways.

He got the first large turkey out of the oven and onto a counter where Summer indicated, then he pulled out the others.

As Summer went to work pouring ingredients into a large mixer, Cameron watched her. Every movement was efficient. She worked with a grace that almost seemed like a ballet, reaching for this, adding that. No movement was wasted.

Vanessa was chopping carrots.

Across the room, he spied Common Ground aprons similar to the one Vanessa wore. He claimed one of them and tied it on, then pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

When he finished he pocketed the phone, went to a sink where he washed and dried his hands. Then he came up beside Summer.

“How can I help?”

* * *

“Miss Summer, you make me happy to be homeless,” an elderly black man known only as Sweet Willie said.

“Brother Willie, what a thing to say,” she replied, tucking an extra cookie for him into a small paper bag.

“This the best food I’ve ever eaten. Thank you kindly.”

Summer beamed. “I’m glad you enjoyed the meal, Brother Willie.”

He shuffled out the door, the last of their guests to depart.

For the first time since that morning, she exhaled. Summer had had her doubts about how they were going to pull off the meal. In Summer’s two months with Manna, she’d yet to see the soup kitchen’s director on their busiest day. Ilsa Keller was great at promoting Manna in the community, but that ambassadorship apparently came at the expense of actually managing the day-to-day operation of the place.

If it hadn’t been for Cameron Jackson and the two guys he’d talked into coming over to help, she wasn’t sure if they would have had everything ready by the time people started arriving at four o’clock.

Six Common Ground volunteers had arrived at about three-thirty to act as servers, but they wouldn’t have had anything to serve if Cameron hadn’t pitched in. She still didn’t know who the two guys were—personal friends of his or firefighters he’d ordered to come help. He’d simply introduced them and told them to do whatever Summer said. She’d been too grateful and too busy to inquire.

“That was a nice thing for him to say.”

Summer smiled.

For some reason, she wasn’t at all surprised to find Cameron at her side. They’d worked as a team today, serving and ministering. It gave her a new insight into the fire chief. Most men would have bolted after a woman’s rejection of a dinner date.

She studied him for a moment. Cameron wasn’t just trying to get to know her. She’d seen him talking and then praying with a couple people after the meal began. Many of them knew him and called him Chief Cam, just as Vanessa had done.

Just who was Cameron Jackson?

“He hasn’t been here for a couple of weeks,” she said, telling him about Sweet Willie. “I was starting to worry that something had happened to him. I asked around, but none of our regulars knew where he was.”

“You do good work,” Cameron said. “I’m going to let Pastor Hines—Rick Hines is the lead pastor at my church, The Fellowship,” he said, clarifying for her. “I’m going to let him know that Manna needs some dedicated volunteers in the early part of the day. I’m sure there are folks in the congregation who can help.”

Summer bit her tongue. She would not bad-mouth the program at Manna. Yes, things could be done differently, but it wasn’t her place to harp on all the shortcomings.

“Today was an anomaly,” she said. “I’m glad you and your friends came to the rescue. Thank you.”

They made their way to the kitchen where the cleanup crew was turning the space back into a sparkling setup for the next day’s volunteers and setting out items for the early morning prep.

At some point between serving chicken soup and rolls, Summer had decided that a date with a man who would give the homeless almost seven hours of his day was a date she’d like to go on.

Summer retrieved her handbag, said good-night to those who remained and let Cameron escort her out the back door and toward her car in the parking lot behind Manna at Common Ground.

“If the offer is still open,” she said, “I would like to have dinner with you.”


Chapter Four

“Really?”

The grin transformed his face into one of boyish delight.

She smiled back. “Yes, really.”

“How about Friday night?” Cameron asked.

Summer willed herself to ignore the apprehension that raced through her and to savor the unfamiliar thrill of anticipation. She would have two days to get herself together emotionally. But right now, this felt right.

“Friday night sounds terrific,” she heard herself say, and could only wonder about the breathless tone that seemed to accompany the words.

“I can pick you up at your house,” Cameron said. “I think I know where you live.”

He kept a straight face for half a beat and then chuckled as a blush blossomed on Summer.

“I can explain...”

He halted her words with a finger at his lips. “Summer, I told you. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

Suddenly feeling a bit like the Summer she used to be years ago, she cocked her head a bit and gave him a saucy smile.

“So,” she said, “aren’t you at all curious about why I changed my mind?”

He winked at her. “Woman’s prerogative,” he said. “That is definitely something I have learned to respect.”

That earned him a laugh. He held his hand out to her and she took it. The gesture, old-fashioned and sweet, made her smile.

“Thank you,” she said as they headed toward the vehicle she indicated. “For everything you did today. I really, really appreciated the help.”

He nodded. “I hope to get you some permanent help. I’m going to let Pastor Hines know that more than financial contributions are needed here. You and Mrs. D should not have to scramble the way you did today.”

Summer was pretty sure that what she was hearing was unique. Not every man would see a problem and immediately seek a solution. Maybe that was why he was the fire chief at such a young age. She pegged him as being in his mid-thirties, and that was being generous. She was pretty sure that police and fire chiefs were supposed to be much older, men and women with gray hair at the temples and grandchildren they liked to spoil when they were off duty.

“Thank you,” she simply said.

“May I call you?”

She smiled, liking the chivalrousness that he seemed to exude, sort of like an old Southern gentleman. “Yes, you may.”

She gave him her cell number.

“It has a Georgia area code,” she said. “I haven’t transferred it to a North Carolina one, and my friends there...” she faltered, then shook her head. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all that.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

They stood there, the moment awkward as neither seemed to know quite how to conclude the conversation.

In the end, it was Cameron who found the way. He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek and said, “I’m looking forward to Friday.”

* * *

Hours later, Summer still felt that kiss and wondered just what she had agreed to.

A date!

She sat in her bedroom at the vanity second-guessing herself, fretting and in a state her mother would describe as working herself into a tizzy.

The good thing about being back home in Cedar Springs was that when she wanted or needed to connect with one of her sisters, it could be face-to-face, instead of long distance from Georgia to North Carolina.

She glanced around, looking for the phone. The house on Hummingbird Lane was in pristine condition. It was nothing at all like the Greek Revival McMansion that she and Garrett had called home back in Macon. No professional decorator had come through with a horde of minions designing the house for maximum impact or with an eye toward the critical review of country club wives. She sold the Macon house fully furnished, taking with her just a few sentimental pieces and the antique furniture that had been passed down to her from her grandmother.

This house, her new home, was spacious but not ostentatious. And the only interior decorators who had crossed its threshold were her sisters. That was why she had no idea where the phone was. One of them put it somewhere that Summer did not consider intuitive.

Summer sighed.

She knew it was not the missing telephone that bothered her. That was just symbolic of her life at the moment: not where she thought it would be.

What really bothered her was what she had agreed to do with Cameron Jackson.

A date.

She was going on a date!

Summer didn’t know what was scarier: the idea of a social engagement with a man she had, for all intents and purposes, just met, or the very notion of going out. It almost felt as if she were cheating on Garrett. Intellectually, she knew that made no sense. It had been almost two years since her world imploded around her. Almost two years since she’d buried the one man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, the man she had exchanged holy vows of matrimony with. For better or worse, in sickness and health, until death do we part.

How was she to know—how could she have ever even imagined— that those vows did not guarantee them fifty years of wedded bliss?

Instead of heading out on their highly anticipated tour and cruise of Italy to celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary, at twenty-six years old, Summer was burying her husband. She felt the sharp sting of approaching tears.

Stop it, Summer. Just stop.

Refusing to give in to the temptation to wallow in self-pity, she snatched up a tube of mascara and refreshed her eyes even though she wasn’t going anywhere.

Feeling a little better, she got up and plucked her cell phone from her purse. Spring would still be with patients at the free clinic, but maybe Autumn had a few minutes to spare for a sister who was acting like a total spaz.

As the phone rang, she walked around her bedroom trying to figure out where the receiver for the landline telephone might be. The Darling sisters and their mother had taken over the house, throwing themselves into making Summer’s new home as comfortable and cozy as possible.

They had done a good job.

As Summer headed into her large walk-in closet, Autumn’s mobile phone went straight to voice mail.

Summer sighed.

Instead of continuing the search for the landline, she decided to stare at her clothes and try to figure out what was appropriate to wear out on a date with Fire Chief Cameron Jackson.

He had not said where they would be going, but she had a general idea. Dinner and a movie were typical first-date fare. And unless he planned something for them to do in Raleigh, the options in Cedar Springs were pretty much limited to movies or bowling and eating.

For a town its size, Cedar Springs, North Carolina, boasted an eclectic mix of restaurants. Everything from traditional Southern fare and Americana to national chains and the nouveau cuisine that might be associated with large cities like New York or Washington, D.C., could be found either in town or nearby.

Cameron looked like a Carolina barbeque kind of guy.

That thought made her smile.

Something about his rugged good looks made her think he wouldn’t object to a pig-picking backyard barbeque. She could imagine him enjoying the food, not minding if barbeque sauce dripped on his shirt.

The contrast with Dr. Garrett Spencer or even Dr. John Darling, her father, could not have been greater. If it were true that little girls grew up and married men just like their fathers, the case had certainly proven true with Summer.

When Autumn said as much, Summer denied it. Now, however, with Garrett gone, she did see the similarities between the man who raised her and the man she married. Both were physicians dedicated to their professions and their patients. Both doted on their wives, providing the wealth that made outside employment for their spouses the stuff of hobbies and volunteer work.

Summer knew it was true that her oldest sister, Spring, had taken after their father by going into medicine, while Summer tended to hearth and home, much like their mother, Lovie Darling. Lovie’s example had been one of quiet grace, Southern gentility and charm, and a strong faith enhanced with a healthy sense of humor.

From her mother, Summer inherited the domestic gene. Autumn and Winter called themselves the changelings, because beyond physical attributes, neither of them seemed to carry the traits of either parent.

Summer was pretty sure that Cameron Jackson was interested in her because he had not yet met Autumn. Her little sister was the Darling daughter who wowed everyone she met: men, women, teenagers and even little kids. Autumn knew how to bring people together. Spring was the healer and organizer of the bunch, championing causes and making things happen. Winter was always on a quest, off exploring or doing something slightly dangerous. But Summer, well, she was basically a boring homebody, content in the kitchen, tending to her garden flowers and being known as a gracious hostess.

She sighed.

Compared to her sisters’ lives, hers was vapid.

And without the social connections she had taken for granted in Macon and Atlanta—being a doctor’s wife—she was home in Cedar Springs but felt much like a fish out of water. She had her sisters, of course, but had yet to make many new friends.

Lovie had already tried to set her up with a radiologist who was the son of one of her church members.

That hadn’t gone well, but Summer suspected he would be just the first of many eligible men her mother sent her way. Lovie Darling gathered business cards of single professional men the way some women collected recipes. She then parceled the business cards out to her daughters, none too subtly suggesting that she wanted her four daughters married and producing grandchildren for her to spoil.

And now, less than two weeks since the radiologist debacle, she was going out on a date with a man she had just met—a man who was not a whit like her father or her husband.

What was she thinking?

Her cell phone rang as if to answer the question.

“Hello, this is Summer Spencer.”

“You know, you don’t have to announce who you are. What if it’s someone on the other end that you don’t ever want to talk to?”

Summer smiled. She left her closet and moved back into the bedroom where she settled on a chaise near the large bay window.

“That, little sister, is because, unlike you, I do not live a life that requires me to be in hiding from some people.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Autumn declared. “I do not hide. I just don’t feel like being bothered with some folks sometimes.”

“Is that why you let my call go to voice mail?”

“You wound me, Summer. I did no such thing. I was actually in the shower. Just finished racquetball and tried out a Zumba class a friend was teaching.”

Summer shook her head. “You make me tired just listening to you.”

“There’s a half marathon coming up in six weeks. It’s gonna be down in Fayetteville. Lots of cute soldiers from Fort Bragg will be running in it. I can fast-track train you and get you ready to join me.”

“I think all of that physical activity has cut off the oxygen to your brain. Sweat and I do not go together.”

Autumn laughed.

Summer heard the chirp of Autumn’s car door as the electronic lock disengaged.

“Where are you headed?”

“I was gonna grab a bite to eat, then crash.”

“I have quiche.”

“You have any of that raspberry cheesecake that you made for Spring left?”

“I didn’t make it specifically for her, I just made it.”

“Whatever. She got first cut and that’s just wrong.”

“A big slice will be waiting for you.”

Autumn let out a triumphant whoop. “Hah! Guilt trip works every time.”

Summer laughed at her sister’s antics. “See you in a bit. And, Autumn?”

“Yeah?”

“Drive carefully, please. No texting while driving.”

“Bye, worrywart. Oh, hey! Summer!”

Summer held the phone away from her ear. “What?”

“I want to hear about this fire chief that you’ve been making googly eyes at.”

Googly eyes?

Summer was pretty sure she had not made googly eyes with anyone since Jason Weathersby in third grade.

“Well, uh, that is sort of why I called you, Autumn,” she confessed. “I have a date with that fire chief.”

The cheer that came over the phone line really may have damaged Summer’s ears.


Chapter Five

Cameron could not believe she had changed her mind, but he was sure glad of it. While he’d teased Summer Spencer about not needing to know the reason why, he was a bit curious. He had enjoyed watching her interact with the homeless and indigent who flocked to Manna at Common Ground. On at least a couple of occasions throughout the evening, he’d caught her looking at him.

He wondered what she saw. Although he had his father’s blond hair and blue eyes, he knew he was not considered classically handsome. Cameron was a battle-scarred army veteran who had caught more than his share of bad burns while fighting fires, first during his enlistment and then as a civilian.

The buddies he’d summoned to help out at Manna, on the other hand, had the good looks that seemed to attract women.

In between cooking and serving, he had managed to keep an eye on the pretty blonde who had captivated him from the moment she collapsed in his arms. And the one thing he noticed as Manna at Common Ground’s guests arrived—and as his friends ogled her!—was that Summer seemed completely oblivious to his friends’ efforts to catch her eye.

A stab of jealousy arced through Cam until he realized that Summer gave his buddy Rob the same gracious and polite treatment that she gave everyone.

Was he just imagining a warmth that seemed to come into her eyes when he himself spoke with her?

He didn’t know, but he was grateful and happy that she had agreed to go out with him.

“Chief?”

Cameron started, then focused in on the room. He was in a special meeting of the Cedar Springs City Council and the department heads. While not a regularly scheduled meeting, this one was open to the public because they were discussing town business. A handful of residents sat in the audience.

A few people exchanged amused glances.

“I’m sorry,” Cameron said. “What was your question?”

“We wanted to make sure you can meet with the architect when he comes in,” Mayor Bernadette Howell said. “We haven’t even seen the plans for the development project, let alone voted on anything, and there’s already been an uproar in some parts of the city. I keep getting an earful about destroying historic sites and overburdening emergency services, especially the fire department.”

Cameron nodded, making a note on his smartphone. “What’s that date?”

“Gloria will set you up with an appointment,” the mayor said.

Cameron nodded toward the town clerk who doubled as administrative assistant to both the mayor and deputy mayor.

Mayor Howell then asked the city manager for an update on the title search for the two properties under consideration for a new mixed-use residential and retail development.

“The surveyors will be starting some preliminary work in the next few weeks. There’s some ambiguity with a few of the parcels that are either adjacent to or possibly that overlap with the Darling land.”

The mayor sighed.

As the late meeting went on around him, Cameron’s thoughts had been on Summer Spencer more than the new development proposed for Cedar Springs.

Darling land? Wasn’t Summer Spencer’s sister’s last name Darling?

“John, what do you mean overlap?” Cameron asked.

“That’s my question, as well,” the mayor said.

“Apparently, there were some, er, shall we say gentlemen’s agreements regarding property lines many, many decades ago,” the city manager said.

“Great,” Mayor Howell muttered. “Just great.”

“I foresee trouble,” a voice rumbled from the end of the table.

“Well, let’s not buy trouble before we have to,” the mayor snapped. “Everything is preliminary right now. All we’re doing is assessing potential sites,” she said.

“I, for one, would rather not get into a protracted land dispute with Lovie Darling.”

Everyone turned toward Joe Marchand, who had been on the City Council longer than its youngest members had been alive. Joe kept getting re-elected despite his protestations that there were others who should take over the seat. Since he rarely had anything to say at the council meetings, when he did speak, people tended to pay attention.

Cameron leaned toward the police chief, who always sat next to him in council meetings. “Who is Lovie Darling?”

“Old money,” the police chief whispered back. “Her husband’s family basically founded the town that became Cedar Springs.”

Cameron sat back frowning.

He’d been excited about the prospect of taking out Summer Spencer. Now that he suspected she was one of the wealthy Darlings, he wondered how he could beg off from the date.

The last thing he wanted was the high-maintenance drama that went along with a wealthy woman. He’d been down that road once before and it had led straight to misery—and divorce. He didn’t plan to head down that path ever again.

* * *

When Summer opened her front door, Autumn was not alone. She had somehow managed to round up both Spring and Winter.

Summer groaned. “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Too late,” Autumn said, barging in with a take-out drinks tray.

“Starbucks?”

“What else? She mainlines the stuff,” Winter said, following with a small cloth satchel.

Summer nodded toward it. “And what is your contribution to this little intervention?”

“It is not an intervention,” Spring said. “It’s a little sisterly chat. We haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“And since I am apparently the only person on the planet who doesn’t know about this man you’re seeing,” Winter said, “I expect to be fully filled in and compensated for the misdemeanor of leaving me out of the loop.”

Summer groaned as she shut the front door behind her sisters, who all headed to the room their mother had dubbed The Salon.

Overstuffed chintz chairs, lamps with frilly-edged shades and plenty of pillows in coordinating solids and clashing floral prints made it a room ideally suited for chitchats and tea among girlfriends or for snuggling in with a cozy mystery novel on a rainy day.

Summer noted, not for the first time, that her style and those of her sisters varied widely. If they didn’t actually resemble each other, no one would imagine they were related.

Spring, in crisp khaki slacks, penny loafers and a white button-down shirt, had clearly come straight from the free clinic. All that was missing was her white doctor’s jacket and a stethoscope.

Autumn sported black yoga pants, a T-shirt in bright fuchsia and black flats. And, as always, Autumn’s thick blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, with a baseball cap to top it off.

Winter was the surprise today. She had on a tiny floral print sundress that hugged her curves and suspiciously looked like it had come straight from Summer’s closet.

“I am not seeing him,” Summer declared. “ I just agreed to go on a date with him Friday night. And, excuse me, but is that my dress?”

“Uh-huh,” Autumn said.

At the same time, Winter added, “It’s way too big for you.”

“She borrowed it when we were doing your bedroom,” Autumn the tattletale added. “Where’s my raspberry cheesecake?”

“There’s cheesecake?” Winter said. “Nobody ever tells me anything.”

“Chief Jackson enjoyed it,” Spring said, a slight smile at her mouth. Autumn and Winter whirled around.

Summer gasped and threw a tasseled pillow at Spring. “You’re supposed to be on my side in this!”

Spring winked at her. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

Summer pouted but couldn’t maintain it. She stared at her sisters and her eyes filled with tears.

“I’m so glad I came home. I’ve missed you guys more than you know.”

A moment later, the four Darling sisters shared a group hug full of tears and laughter.

“Just because we’re all cozy here,” Autumn said breaking free of the circle, “don’t for a minute think you’re getting any of my cheesecake, Winter.”

After they were all settled with either quiche or dessert, coffees and tea, Winter got down to business. “Since everybody except me knows about this guy of hers, who is going to fill me in?”

“He’s not my guy,” Summer said, feeling a need to defend herself.

The others turned to Spring. Autumn and Winter knew that as the oldest and most level-headed of the four, she would tell the truth.

“I was here when they met,” Spring said. “Chief Jackson came over to inspect the smoke alarms.”

“Is he cute?” Autumn asked.

Summer blushed.

“Oh, he is! Look at her! What does he look like, Spring?”

“I would guess he’s about your age, Winter. Mid-thirties. Dark blond hair. Blue eyes. He has that boy-next-door look about him, but a boy next door who had responsibility thrust on him at an early age.”

Three sets of arched eyebrows turned in Spring’s direction.

“What an astute observation,” Summer murmured before taking a sip of tea.

“Did you change specialties to psychology?” Autumn asked.

“No,” Summer said aloud. “She’s right. That’s it. He has an air of responsibility, like he’s used to taking care of people.”

“Cameron?” Autumn said coughing, as the coffee she was drinking went down the wrong way.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Spring asked dryly.

“Ha, ha,” Autumn said. “Cameron? Cameron Jackson?”

“You know him?” Winter and Summer asked at the same time.

“Of course,” Autumn said.

Summer’s tummy did a little tumble. If Autumn knew Cameron, her chances with him were suddenly diminished.

“I just didn’t put that whole chief thing in place until now. You’re dating Chief Cam? Way to go, Summer. He’s a really good guy. God, country and firefighting.”

She went back to forking up cheesecake.

Winter huffed. “Well, don’t just leave it hanging there. Spill!”

“Spill what?” Autumn said around bites. She shrugged. “Like I said, he’s a stand-up kind of guy. He plays basketball with the kids at the rec center every couple of weeks. The kids really like him.”

“Is he cute?” Winter said.

Autumn said, “Yeah, he looks like he means business.”

Summer frowned. “What kind of description is that?”

“Focus, please,” Winter demanded. “He came here to check Summer’s smoke alarm batteries and then what?”

Summer and Spring shared a glance.

And in that moment, Summer knew that her older sister would keep her secret. The fewer people who knew about her fainting, the better—and the less likely it would get back to their mother, who would fuss and probably set up temporary residence in the guest room.

“She was baking and gave the crew cheesecake and cookies,” Spring reported.

“You go, sis,” Autumn said. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. With your baking and cooking, you’ll have him literally eating out of your hands in no time.”

Summer had a question burning in her. If she failed to ask it now, she knew she might regret it.

“So, you and he aren’t...you know...?”

Autumn’s eyes widened. “Me and Chief Cam? Goodness, no. He’s like the big brother I didn’t have. Chief Cam, he’s like everybody’s big brother. The kids love it when he plays ball with them. And, like I said, he’s the all-American kind of guy.”

“Apparently, he’s not everybody’s big brother,” Winter observed with a grin. “He clearly doesn’t see our Summer as a little sister.”

The blush that she thought had dissipated bloomed again on Summer’s cheeks.

“So, where are you guys going?”

“I don’t know,” Summer said. “And I don’t know what to wear.”

“No twinsets!” Autumn and Winter yelled at the same time.

Summer glared at them.

“And nothing starched,” Spring added. “Like those shorts you’re wearing.”

“What’s wrong with neat and pressed clothing?” Summer asked.

“It’s a date, not a committee meeting at the library,” Autumn said.

“I would not wear shorts to any meeting,” Summer declared. “And you three are not helping. What to wear is the least of my problems.”

Winter reached over and snatched the last forkful of Autumn’s raspberry cheesecake.

“Hey! Foul. Flag on the play!”

Laughing at her sisters, Summer rose and headed to the kitchen.

“The good thing about stress is that I make good use of it,” she said.

She returned with a tray bearing four dessert plates, forks and a double chocolate cheesecake.

“How is it you can bake all these sweets and not ever gain an ounce?” Winter asked.

As the curviest of the Darling sisters, every bite she put in her mouth landed on her hips. And unlike Autumn, who lived for every sport ever invented, Winter didn’t work off the calories with physical activity.

“That’s because I make sure that other people eat it all. So eat up, ladies.”

Summer and her sisters spent the next hour talking, laughing and teasing each other.

When she finally closed the door and turned off the downstairs lights to head to bed, Summer realized that not one of her sisters had expressed concern about her dating.

She smiled.

Maybe it was because of the man she had decided to see: a blond-haired, blue-eyed, stand-up kind of guy by the name of Cameron Jackson. Both Spring and Autumn had given him the A-OK. Now all Summer had to do was make it through the date without embarrassing herself.


Chapter Six

It had taken Cameron less than ten minutes on Google and the Cedar Springs Gazette’s website to find that Summer Darling Spencer and her sisters were indeed the trust-fund debutantes of Cedar Springs society. The ordeal that had been his two-year marriage to a trust-fund daddy’s girl had left him with no illusions about what it meant to be in an economically lopsided relationship. The melding of working class and upper class was the stuff of oil and water, and Cameron had the emotional scars to prove it.

Summer was pretty and he’d been drawn to her vulnerability. But self-preservation trumped those assets.

Cameron’s first instinct was to text Summer and tell her something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to make it Friday night. But a text message was the coward’s way out. He’d all but chased her to get her to agree to go out with him, practically cornering her while she did her volunteer work at Manna at Common Ground.

His mother had raised him to be a gentleman. And a gentleman didn’t run away from tough situations. So approaching the business entrance to Manna at Common Ground the next day, the irony didn’t escape him that the way his social life was at the moment, he considered breaking a date with a beautiful woman as a tough situation.

Cameron didn’t know if she was at the soup kitchen on Thursday, but it was an easy visit for him to make from the public safety building.

As he pulled open the door to the Common Ground business office, he had one goal: extricate himself from the date with Summer Spencer.

“Chief Cam,” Mrs. Davidson trilled from her desk. “What a surprise. Two days in a row. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Doris Davidson was one of a handful of full-time employees for the Common Ground ministries. She was the central receptionist, point person and general bookkeeper for the soup kitchen, recreation center, homeless shelter and free clinic.

“Hi, Mrs. D. Is Summer Spencer working today?”

She gave him a sly smile. “As a matter of fact, she is. I think you know where to find her,” Mrs. D said with a general wave in the rear direction.

“Thank you,” he said, making his way toward the kitchen.

As he drew closer, Cameron heard raised voices, tinged with anger.

“You just can’t waltz in here and rewrite the rules of Manna to suit your own purpose. You had no right to allow unauthorized people in here.”

“Ilsa, if they hadn’t been here, we wouldn’t have been able to serve the evening meal. There weren’t enough volunteers.”

Cameron recognized Summer’s voice. He pushed open the door and said, “Excuse me.” Neither of the women saw or heard him.

Summer’s hair was pulled up and back with clips. She wore one of the Common Ground aprons over slacks and a short-sleeve top and had a wooden spoon in one hand. The other woman was in her mid-to late-forties with blond hair cut into a short and severe bob. While Summer was dressed to work, the other woman wore a suit he guessed was both linen and designer.

“Are you implying that I’m not doing my job?” the woman demanded of Summer.

“I’m not implying anything,” Summer said. “What I’m saying is that Wednesday is our busiest day. If it hadn’t been for Chief Jackson and his men stepping in when they did, we would have had crackers to serve to our guests.”

Hearing his name in the middle of the fray brought Cameron up short. Was she being reprimanded for having him work in the kitchen?

From the way she gripped the wooden spoon, Cameron knew that she was holding on to her temper. Another woman would have been ready to use the utensil as a weapon.

“Excuse me,” he said, much louder this time.

Both women turned toward the voice.

“Cameron!” Summer said.

“Who are you?” the suited woman demanded.

Cameron came forward. Summer may have been holding on to her patience, but he was quickly losing his. The accusatory tone of the woman’s voice put him on the defensive.

“My name is Cameron Jackson. I’m the Cedar Springs fire chief.”

“Oh,” the woman said turning on both a smile and the charm. “Mrs. Davidson didn’t tell me I had an appointment. What can I do for you, Chief Jackson?”

He glanced at Summer, who looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but there.

“You can tell me why you’re berating this woman whose only fault was looking out for the best interests of the homeless and indigent.”

“Cameron,” Summer began. “You don’t have to...”

He held up a hand even as the woman said, “I beg your pardon?”

“I was the unauthorized volunteer yesterday,” he said. “I dropped off some food donations from the fire houses and discovered that the ladies here were shorthanded.”

“Oh,” the woman said, glancing at Summer and then turning her attention back to Cameron. “I didn’t realize...” she said as her voice faded away.

Then, “I’m sorry,” she told Summer, the apology curt and in Cameron’s estimation, not at all sincere. “I didn’t know that the city’s fire chief was the volunteer. That’s perfectly acceptable,” she said, once again ignoring Summer and giving Cameron a one-hundred-watt smile.

“By the way,” she said offering her hand. “I’m Ilsa Keller, the director of Manna.”

“Hmm,” was Cameron’s only response as he gave her a handshake that was at best perfunctory and at worst as abrupt as she had been with Summer.

“Well,” Ilsa said. “I have a meeting to attend to. The Women’s Club is considering taking Manna on as a service project.”

Summer’s mouth dropped open.

“My shift is ending,” she said. “Who’s going to do prep for tomorrow?”

Ilsa shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. The work will get done. Chief Jackson, it was a delight meeting you. I hope our paths cross again.”

A moment later, Ilsa was out the door Cameron had come in.

“Is it safe to venture out now?” a voice asked from behind a door.

Cameron turned and saw a woman’s head peeking out of what he guessed was a pantry.

Summer sighed and put the wooden spoon in the sink. “Yes, it’s safe. She’s gone.”

“Thank goodness. I was getting some raisins for the spoon bread when I heard her come in. Sorry to have abandoned you, Summer. But frankly, I thought staying in the pantry was a better idea.”

“That’s okay, Olivia. Olivia Green, this is Chief Cameron Jackson,” Summer said, making the introductions.

He nodded toward Olivia. “Ms. Green.”

“What just happened here?” Cameron said, his issue with Summer’s background forgotten as he stewed over the way she had been treated.

“You just saw the Wicked Witch of the West in action,” Olivia said, depositing the large canister of raisins on a counter. “She blows in here like that all the time. Never does a lick of work but is always acting like the place would cease to exist without her at the helm.”

“Olivia,” Summer said. “Be kind.”

“That woman doesn’t deserve any kindness. And frankly, I’m sick of it,” Olivia said. “I’ve already sent a letter to the board about what’s been going on here.”

“What’s been going on?” Cameron asked as he watched Olivia toss ingredients into a large mixing bowl.

“Summer has been keeping us up and running, that’s what’s going on. If anybody here deserved a salary for all the work they put into Manna, it would be Summer, not Ilsa.”

Summer rubbed her temples. “It’s not that bad, Cameron. Really.”

“No,” Olivia snapped. “It’s worse.”

“Thank you for coming to my defense,” she told Cameron. “You didn’t have to. I was already telling her about us being shorthanded here. I just don’t think she realizes that the day-to-day operation of this place needs attention just as much as fund-raising and community awareness.”

Cameron looked around. “Is it just the two of you or is someone else hiding in the pantry?”

“Summer is leaving,” Olivia said. “She’s already been here for six hours of a three-hour shift.”

“I’m not leaving you when there’s...”

“What can I do to help?” Cameron interjected.

The two women glanced at each other. “We could use another set of hands,” Olivia pointed out. “Especially since Madame Director clearly isn’t lending any tangible support.”

A few minutes later, Cameron’s hands were washed, an apron was tied at his waist and he was chopping vegetables. If he was going at it a bit more aggressively than either Summer or Olivia would have, neither woman said anything about it.

“Does she always interact with volunteers like that?” he asked.

“What you saw is what we get,” Olivia said.

Cameron looked to Summer, who reluctantly nodded.

“This is a ministry,” she said. “But there are internal, er, issues, that make it difficult to carry out our mission sometimes.”

“There’s just one issue,” Olivia piped up from where she worked. “And its name is Ilsa Keller.”

The three made fast work of completing the preparations for the next day’s meal service. By the time they finished, Cameron’s assessment of Summer had changed...again.

“Can I buy you two a cup of coffee?” he said.

“None for me,” Olivia answered. “I have work waiting for me at home. You two go on. I’ll wrap up the rest of this. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”

Summer paused, but Olivia made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go.”

Summer surveyed the kitchen. Everything apparently met with her satisfaction because she nodded and headed outside.

“I didn’t mean to go all caveman,” Cameron said.

“You didn’t. At least not that I saw.”

The edges of his mouth quirked up. “That’s because I kept it inside.”

“Those carrots and that celery might disagree.”

That earned a laugh. “I thought I was showing off my Iron Chef skills.”

“If that makes you feel better,” she retorted.

“All right,” he said. “I confess. I was letting off the steam that your director brought to a boiling point.”

“Twice now you’ve bailed me out at Manna. Thank you.”

Remembering his reason for seeking her out in the first place, Cameron felt a twinge of conscience. His ex-wife would not have been as gracious as Summer, either with Ilsa Keller or with him butting in.

“Cameron, I forgot to ask. What did you come to Manna for? I’m sure your original intent wasn’t to referee a fight or to chop vegetables.”

To Cameron, her attempt at self-deprecating humor fell a little flat. He’d seen her mouth tremble as she’d fought back the urge to cry after the undeserved dressing down by that woman.

Before he could answer, a horn tooted and they both turned toward the sound.

“Summer Darling! I thought that was you. I heard you were back in town. We still do doubles at the club Saturday mornings. You know you have an open invitation. We’d love to see you.”

“I’ll call you,” she called out to the man who tooted his horn again and waved.

Doubles at the club. Cameron didn’t know if they were talking about tennis, golf or something else. But whatever it was, he knew he didn’t have an open invitation or even a membership at the exclusive country club.

When she turned back to him, Summer looked troubled.

“Cameron, about tomorrow....”

“That’s what I came to see you about.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ve been very kind. But I’m going to have to back out. I’m sorry.”

Her words couldn’t have been any more shocking. She’d dumped him before he could dump her!

But the snub had the opposite affect on him. Instead of being relieved to have escaped another potential situation like the one with his ex-wife, he suddenly had something to prove—to himself and to Summer.

* * *

“I got cold feet,” Summer told her sister. “One minute, I was anticipating a date with him and in the next, it was like, ‘I can’t do this.’”

Spring was finishing up her own volunteer shift at the free clinic run by the Common Ground ministries. Summer had left Cameron standing in front of Manna and gone straight to the clinic. Spring had always been her sounding board, and tonight was no exception.

“And I hate coming across as the damsel in distress,” Summer said. “He probably thinks I’m some sort of flake.”

“You don’t,” Spring assured her as she slipped off her stethoscope then shrugged out of the white lab jacket she wore at the clinic. She hung it in her locker, scooped up her bag and faced her little sister. “This is an occasion that begs for ice cream. Let’s go.”

Ice cream must have been the solution of the evening. When they reached the Main Street shop, Two Scoops & More was packed with people.

And right in the middle of it all stood Cameron Jackson.


Chapter Seven

“Uh, let’s go somewhere else,” Summer said.

But Spring had spotted the fire chief, as well, and nudged Summer into the crowded ice cream shop.

“Face your fears, little sis.”

Cameron had clearly spotted them and was making his way toward the sisters.

As if sensing his urgency, the throng seemed to open a path for him. Summer turned to retreat, but Spring stopped her.

Summer took a deep breath and braced herself.

Cameron wasted no time getting to the point. “Can you at least tell me why you changed your mind?”

“I just did,” she said, knowing the answer was lame.

Telling her sister the truth was one thing. She couldn’t admit to this man that the reason she didn’t want to go out with him was because he made her nervous. Because even though her husband was dead, going on a date with another man felt like cheating.

It all sounded crazy, even to her own ears.

He’d been kind and considerate at Manna, but her gut was twisted in knots, much like the hot pretzels offered in the ice cream parlor.

“I hope you’ll reconsider,” Cameron said. “Tomorrow is the downtown merchants’ Street Stroll. The Main Street stores are all open late. I thought you might enjoy seeing the new downtown.”

Summer bit her lower lip. She’d seen an ad about the Street Stroll in the newspaper and was planning to come anyway. It sounded like fun. She turned to get Spring’s assessment, but the physician was nowhere in sight. Spring had pulled a disappearing act on her.

“Are you looking for someone?” Cameron asked.

“My sister Spring.”

“She left a moment ago. She waved as I was making my way over to you.”

“Of course she did,” Summer muttered to herself.

It wouldn’t be like a date date, she told herself. They would be outside and around lots of other people. Sort of like right now. She could handle that much better than the prospect of an intimate dinner date.

The other day when she’d told Spring that she didn’t like confrontation, it had been true. She knew the situation with Ilsa Keller was getting out of control. She needed to do something. And then, before she could take the first step in making things better at Manna, Cameron had witnessed her humiliation. There really was no other way to describe that scene in the kitchen. She’d wanted the floor to open up and swallow her when she realized Cameron was standing there seeing the way Ilsa ran the place.

She’d considered leaving, like so many of the other Manna volunteers. But she believed in the soup kitchen’s mission and truly enjoyed the work. The only thing that marred it from being a perfect experience was Ilsa...and Cameron seeing her as someone who needed rescuing.

Summer had spent her entire life being cloistered, first by her parents and then by her husband.

“The stroll only comes around once a month,” Cameron said, “so the timing couldn’t be better. Say you’ll come. Please.”

Summer’s gaze connected with the blue of Cameron’s eyes.

Suddenly all of the East Coast’s butterflies were having a convention in her stomach.

She dipped a toe into the water and gave a small shiver.

“All right.”




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