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Deal Of A Lifetime
T. R. McClure
Could this finally be her time?Serafina Callahan has always been the responsible one, sacrificing her dreams to keep her family’s Pennsylvania farm afloat. Now, after ten years of hard work, here comes someone who could change her life in a major way. All Sera has to do is say yes.It would mean selling the place Callahans have lived on and owned for almost a century. But Sera’s starting to have major feelings for the big-city lawyer who flew home to negotiate the deal. While there’s a lot Sera isn’t sure of–Alex Kimmel’s motives, his questionable past in Bear Meadows—she can’t forget their kiss. Is it enough to build a brand-new dream on?


Could this finally be her time?
Serafina Callahan has always been the responsible one, sacrificing her dreams to keep her family’s Pennsylvania farm afloat. Now, after ten years of hard work, here comes someone who could change her life in a major way. All Sera has to do is say yes.
It would mean selling the place Callahans have lived on and owned for almost a century. But Sera’s starting to have major feelings for the big-city lawyer who flew home to negotiate the deal. While there’s a lot Sera isn’t sure of—Alex Kimmel’s motives, his questionable past in Bear Meadows—she can’t forget their kiss. Is it enough to build a brand-new dream on?
“Sera.”
“Alex.”
They both laughed.
Alex grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into an alcove as passengers jostled their way in and out of the city’s bus station. “I had a great time this weekend.”
The heat moved up Sera’s neck and onto her cheeks at the memories. Alex pulled her closer, although the crowds seemed to have thinned. “As far as I’m concerned, this weekend was Cy’s loss and my gain.”
Her body seemed to move toward Alex’s as if she were on a magic carpet. “I think so, too.”
“You asked if I thought you could return to school at your age. Personally, I think anyone can return to school at any age. If the school offers you a scholarship again, I think you’d be crazy not to accept.” His lips were now just inches from hers. And then he kissed her. A proper goodbye kiss. Not a spur-of-the-moment, wish-he-would-stop-talking kiss.
Dear Reader (#uda3775bd-5be3-545c-8b0c-883c323730f7),
I’m happy to share with you Deal of a Lifetime, book number three in the Bear Meadows series. Thank you for sticking with me as together we see where life takes these characters. As always, a special thank-you to the team at Harlequin and your invaluable suggestions for keeping the story on track. Kudos for creating a beautiful book presentation for the Heartwarming line.
I hope you’re enjoying reading about the characters and their journeys as much as I enjoy writing about them. Just like the people we interact with daily, book characters behave a certain way and have unique personalities. We can only begin to understand them once we understand their deepest fears and greatest hopes.
In Deal of a Lifetime, Serafina Callahan feels an obligation to stay on the family farm. If life had played out differently, Sera’s dreams and aspirations would have taken her far away.
Last Chance Farm is only a few years away from receiving Century Farm designation. But today’s family farm looks nothing like the family farm of my grandparents’ generation. Sustaining a family is hardly possible without someone having an outside income or, in the case of Last Chance Farm, reinventing the concept.
The question for Sera is...where does obligation to family end and the fulfillment of one’s dreams begin, especially given her feelings for the hero, Alex?
T.R.
Deal of a Lifetime
T. R. McClure


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
T. R. MCCLURE wrote her first story when she was ten years old. A degree in psychology led to a career in human resources. Only after retirement did she pick up her pen and return to fiction. T.R. lives in central Pennsylvania with her husband of thirty-seven years. They share their country home with one horse, one cat, four beagles and Sunny the yellow Lab. T.R. is always up for travel adventures with her grown twin daughters. For more information and updates on new releases, visit www.trmcclure.com (http://www.trmcclure.com) or follow the author on Twitter, @trmcclureauthor (https://twitter.com/trmcclureauthor).
To my husband and daughters, who surprised me with an awesome book birthday party for my first book. You pulled off the surprise!
Blaine, Kristen and Launa, you’re awesome and I’m blessed to have you in my life.
Contents
Cover (#u32f2a884-c231-5a62-96a3-c9f98caa3897)
Back Cover Text (#u39369ed1-3261-583b-90c3-961c01b34ce4)
Introduction (#uf8fd8b95-f8c7-5038-9da2-616b60f96d26)
Dear Reader (#u889e68d3-b750-569f-a064-33dfa782ea05)
Title Page (#u11719a67-e2b8-50b5-aa8e-04660993fb28)
About the Author (#u16402190-f5fb-5071-8ec1-3086b3ba8e5c)
Dedication (#u00c7e7e6-584a-560c-a9ca-fa7d2277d4cd)
CHAPTER ONE (#u551e8e24-3afc-5e68-8ef1-02ea9824af80)
CHAPTER TWO (#uf24e8fc2-32a0-5159-b6d6-9264353bf1c5)
CHAPTER THREE (#u6fa8a1cc-11fc-51b1-aec5-71a64e73608a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uc17dc9ed-d1cc-5006-b187-3f0cbe6de092)
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)
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)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uda3775bd-5be3-545c-8b0c-883c323730f7)
HER GREAT-GRANDMOTHER MUST have known what she was doing when she named their home Last Chance Farm, because the men in Serafina Callahan’s family were all gamblers of one sort or another, her little brother included.
“What are you thinking?”
Sitting in one of a line of uncomfortable molded plastic chairs in the terminal lobby, Sera linked her hands over her belly and stared out the floor-to-ceiling window at the twin-engine turboprop, its propellers whirling to a stop. “I’m thinking no way would I climb on a soup can with wings in the middle of a hurricane and fly to Nashville.”
Mirroring her stretched-out position, crossed ankles and all, Chance Callahan rested the toe of his boot against the battered guitar case, as if reassuring himself the instrument was still there, even though it was in plain sight of both of them. “We’re going to Detroit first. It’s not raining in Detroit.”
“That makes no sense—” Sera slid her gaze up her brother’s long legs to his mussed black hair “—but neither does April showers in May.”
“Springtime in Pennsylvania. You never know what you’re gonna get. No big deal.” He shrugged.
She wasn’t surprised. Her younger brother had his own theories about life. He did exactly as he pleased. But then the siblings had traveled different paths from the beginning. She would climb into the crook of an apple tree on a summer day to read, and he would swing from the branches, risking skinned knees and broken bones. “You know, I think you’re the milkman’s son. We can’t be related.”
Head leaning against the seat back, he turned in her direction. His eyes had that heavy-lidded look that made the girls scream when he was onstage. “We both have the Callahan hair. Thick, black and totally unmanageable. We’re related.”
Sera smoothed curly bangs back from her forehead and returned her gaze to the activities on the other side of the window. “Tell me about it.”
Clad in a hooded poncho with Ramp written across the back in large black letters, a figure reached up to lower the staircase of the plane. April Madison appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore navy blue suit pants and a crisp white blouse. A red-white-and-blue-striped scarf looped around her neck. With a bright smile, she handed a clipboard to the agent on the ground.
“Did you know April Madison is working for Allegheny Commuter? She might be the last person you see before plummeting to the ground.”
One corner of his mouth edged upward. “I can think of worse things.”
“You hate April Madison.”
“I hated her in high school. She dumped me for one of the Heaster twins. Now that Stan is serving three to ten, she’s probably rethinking that decision.”
Sera chuckled. “Ya think?” As always, she and her brother had reverted to familiar and comfortable conversation, like two neighbors who hadn’t seen each other in a while. April backed away into the dark recesses of the cabin as passengers appeared in the open doorway. The first person off the plane was a young woman with frizzy red hair. Shoulders hunched against the rain, she clutched a portfolio in her left arm and gripped the railing with her hand.
“Dating any Southern belles?” Sera continued to watch the passengers, but her ear was attuned to any sound from the man next to her. He took a long time to answer.
“Not at the moment.”
An alarm sounded at the back of her brain. Chance and women. Not a good combination when his career was supposed to be the focus. “Were you?”
“Let’s just say, at the present time, there is no special someone.” He shrugged and returned her gaze. The half smile was gone. “You?”
She raised her hands to the ceiling and directed an exasperated look in his direction. “There is such a multitude of men at the farm, I’m having trouble choosing.” The smile she was looking for returned when her little brother laughed. She had accomplished her mission.
“I keep telling you, you should get out more.” Chance scooted back in his seat, rested his arms on his thighs and stared at his guitar. “I saw the reassessment notice from the county on your desk.”
“Yep. Things just keep getting better and better.” Sera returned her gaze to the passengers exiting the plane just in time to see a tall man in a navy windbreaker stoop to emerge from the plane’s oval doorway. He stood at the top of the metal staircase, looking around as if surveying his domain. The wind ruffled his light brown hair. How nice to feel such confidence.
“Did the taxes go up?”
She tore her gaze from the confident man with the windblown hair. “Do cats have kittens?” Unlike the woman with the red hair, his wide shoulders were not at all hunched, as if the rain didn’t exist. “Do taxes ever go down?”
The ticket agent announced boarding for Detroit. Chance stood, his lanky frame unraveling from the seat like the Slinky toy he used to play with on the front porch steps. Slapping his cowboy hat on his head, he slid her a look. “When I get my next gig—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Standing and facing her brother, she pressed a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. “Grab a snack in Detroit.”
“Hey, I’m fine.” He tried to give the money back.
“No, keep it. As Aunt Hope would say, you’re skinny as a rail.” Despite the joking, she did worry about her brother getting on the small plane in the middle of a rainstorm. Heck, she worried about small planes on sunny days. “Good luck with the audition.”
They put their arms around each other; Sera patted his back twice before Chance pulled away. He shot her a look and then just as quickly glanced away. “Thanks, Sera. I feel like I should stick around, but this could be the one. It’s the Blue Bird, you know?” His gaze rested on the guitar case at his feet.
Sera recognized the hopeful expression on her brother’s handsome face. So what if he couldn’t help her with expenses? He really did have a shot at the big time. Unlike her, he was willing to take the risk. She punched him in the shoulder. “Remember what Dad said.”
“Love what you do.” His smile lit his face, transforming him from the average twentysomething into a star. “Bye, sis.” If looks were a prerequisite for becoming a country Western sensation, Chance Callahan was well on his way. His deep, gravelly voice lent another level of sensuality to the man with the two-day growth of beard. He slung a carry-on over his shoulder, picked up the battered guitar case and joined the line of people headed for security.
Bypassing a long line, her brother slid his luggage on a conveyor belt and walked through the security gate without a qualm, shoes and all. Of course, he was prescreened. He had done the same thing many times over the last three years.
The passengers who had just left the recently arrived plane filed through a long, transparent walkway that emptied into the lobby. Sera picked up her poncho just as the young woman with the frizzy red hair emerged. With a shrill “Mommy,” a little redheaded boy broke free from his father and ran into her arms. Hugs and kisses all around. Mom, Dad, toddler.
Watching the other passengers follow her brother onto the ramp, she wondered what adventures they were about to enjoy. More than she, for sure. Sera turned away from the lucky passengers and headed for the bar. She dared not leave until the flight was in the air.
* * *
“YOU DON’T HAVE a reservation for Alexander Kimmel?” Alex stared at the young man with the unusual mop of unnaturally white-blond hair sticking up every which way. His name tag read Scooby, which somehow seemed appropriate. The car rental agent looked to be about ten years old.
Scooby flushed bright red. “I’m afraid not.” He glanced at his computer. “However, I expect a car returned anytime now. Do you want to wait in the bar?” He flashed a toothy smile, displaying multicolored braces.
Alex wished for his sunglasses, packed away deep in his carry-on. The combination of the hair and the teeth was just too much. He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands. Surely he hadn’t heard right. “Did you say you only have two cars?”
“Well, I’m just starting out.” Throwing his shoulders back, he pointed to the sign behind him. Scooby’s Rental Cars. “Before me, Shadow Falls Regional Airport didn’t have a car rental.”
Alex hated to point out the obvious to the enthusiastic car rental agent on the other side of the counter, but somebody had to give this guy a dose of reality. “But you don’t have any cars to rent.”
Scooby shrugged. “If I don’t get my car back in time, there might be someone in the bar who can give you a ride.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off the headache that threatened. He never should have come, never given in. Cyrus was supposed to pick him up. Instead, he had called, saying he had an emergency with a sick cow. A new vet was on call, and he had to be there. But the regional airport had a car rental agency. Alex could rent a car. With a deep breath, Alex opened his eyes and looked around the lobby. So much for reality. “Where’s the bar?”
Bar was spelled out in fake, multicolored glass in the top of a dark, wood-paneled door. Five backless stools, a short bar and three tiny red vinyl booths crowded a windowless space. Wheeling his suitcase next to the wall, Alex propped his hip on one stool at the end and glanced at the display of bottles behind the bar. One other customer hunched over a bottle at the far end of the bar. A curtain of curly black hair shielded her face.
“What can I get for you?” A middle-aged man in a faded green T-shirt and jeans wiped the counter in front of him.
Alex studied the labels, didn’t see anything familiar, then tilted his head toward the lone customer. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Reaching into a glass-fronted cooler, the bartender plunked a sweaty brown bottle on the counter. “Headed in or out?” He grabbed his rag and continued down the counter, wiping in a circular motion.
Alex took a long swig before answering, the tangy brew waking up his mouth. He set the bottle on the coaster. “In.”
“Good thing.” He snorted. “They just canceled the last flight in for the day.” He tipped his chin to the ceiling. “Visibility. Where ya from?”
“New York.”
He nodded, then pointed at the bottle in his hand. “I hear hard cider is getting popular in the city. True?”
Alex twisted the bottle around until he could read the label and then realized the hard cider was the same brand he had been drinking just the night before. “As a matter of fact, hard cider is becoming very popular.”
“Do me a favor...” The bartender disappeared through a swinging door, reappearing a minute later with a plain brown bottle. “Try this and tell me what you think.” He pulled three tumblers from under the counter. “Hey, Sera, want to try something?”
Sitting in the shadows, the woman looked up at the sound of her name. “Okay.” She slid off the stool. “Just a little bit.” She grabbed a yellow poncho and a big purse, and put everything on the stool next to Alex, then sat. She gave Alex a wary look before turning her gaze to the bartender.
“By the way, my name’s Mike.” The bartender smiled as he emptied the bottle into three glasses. He set one in front of Alex and one in front of the young woman. “This is a taste test.”
Picking up the glass, she raised it to her lips.
“Hold on.” Mike held up his glass and shared a big smile. “To success.”
“To success.” Alex clinked his glass with Mike’s and then tipped his glass in the direction of the dark-haired woman. She looked at the glass, then at him and lightly touched her glass to his.
“To success.”
Alex sipped the liquid, swirled it around in his mouth and nodded. “Not bad. You removed the label.”
The bartender didn’t answer, instead waiting for Sera to give her response. She held the glass under her nose and sniffed. “You made this, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “I made this last fall. I call it Flying Apple. You like?”
“Very nice.” She smiled.
Alex watched the exchange. The woman was obviously a regular. And she was capable of smiling. Just not in his direction.
“You’re the first customers I’ve tried it on. My family drinks it, but they’ll drink anything.” Mike set a bowl of pretzels on the counter between Alex and the woman.
The door flew open. Scooby settled next to Sera. “I’ll have what they’re having, Mike.”
“Nice try, buddy. You know you’re not supposed to be sitting at the bar.” Mike raised one eyebrow at the shaggy-haired entrepreneur.
Alex upended his glass. He had to give the young man credit. Not even old enough to drink and he was starting his own business.
“I’ll just be a minute. I’m here on business.” He leaned forward and addressed Alex. “I just got a call. The car I was supposed to get in is stuck in a field. Go figure.”
In the act of swallowing, Alex choked. He pounded on his chest and coughed. Finally, eyes streaming, he turned back to the bar and squeaked out a response. “You’re kidding me.”
“It’s not his fault. Little Bear Creek’s at flood stage. Some of the roads are underwater.”
While Alex had been coughing up apple cider and leaning against the wall, they had been joined by a middle-aged man of average height with a dark beard. He sprawled in one of the booths. He wore a shirt emblazoned with the logo of the airlines and his first name. Mike tossed him a bottle. Taking a ring of keys from his pocket, Al took a healthy swig. “Looks like you’re gonna have to find yourself a ride, buddy. Soon as I finish my libation, I’m gonna put the airport to bed.” He took another long swig and smacked his lips.
Alex tipped his head back against the wall. When he got his hands on his cousin...
“Did the plane to Detroit get out?” The woman two stools over swiveled around and addressed Al. Her brow furrowed as she waited for the response. Alex’s dilemma was no concern of hers. And they say New Yorkers are unfriendly.
Al nodded. “Your brother made it out in the nick of time. They canceled the last flight in, so the airport’s closing. What do you expect? There’s a hurricane moving up the East Coast, and central Pennsylvania is on the outer edges. We get flooding. No big deal. Happens every spring.”
“Good.” Her stool scraped against the wooden floor as she stood and shrugged into the yellow poncho.
“What am I supposed to do?” Alex had the distinct feeling, of the four locals in the bar, the woman, Sera, was his best chance at finding a solution to his problem. But the guarded expression on her face as she paused—the bright vinyl puddled around her neck, emphasizing the blackness of the curly hair—had him rethinking his conclusion.
She pulled the poncho down, slipped her hands through the holes and shook her head, sending curls flying in all directions. “Where are you headed?”
Hope sparked in his chest. Maybe he had misjudged the woman. “Clover Hill Farms. Outside Bear Meadows.”
“No kidding. Well, good luck.” She picked up her paisley purse and headed for the door. “Thanks for the drink, Mike.”
“Hey, Sera. Isn’t Clover Hill Farms close to your place?” Scooby eyed Sera’s glass with her unfinished drink. “You live right next—” Scooby’s enthusiasm deflated at the woman’s sharp glance.
One hand on the dark door, she paused. Her shoulders lifted and dropped, as if she had taken a big sigh. When she turned, his gaze met hers and held.
Pretty green eyes blinked once. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. A full minute passed before she replied. “I’m driving the pickup, Scooby. He doesn’t look like a pickup kind of guy.”
Alex knew if he didn’t do something soon, he would be sleeping on the uncomfortable vinyl chairs in the lobby. So he smiled. For a brief second the woman smiled back, before the smile disappeared and her eyes became guarded. Up close, they almost appeared blue. If he didn’t want to spend the night in the airport, the poncho-wearing, blue-or green-eyed woman was his last hope. “I could be a pickup kind of guy.” He smiled in what he hoped was a persuasive manner. “I’ll pay you.”
She pursed her lips as she considered his answer. “Clover Hill Farms, huh?” She caught the eye of the ticket agent. “There’s no one left in the airport. What about the pilots?”
Al stroked his beard. “Gone.”
Her chin dropped to her chest, as if in defeat. When she looked up, her jaw was set. “Show me your driver’s license.”
Alex supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. In this day and age, a person couldn’t be too careful. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, withdrew his New York license and laid it on the counter. She returned to the bar, every step hesitant as if this were the last place she wanted to be. She glanced down at the piece of plastic. “This license is expired.” Despite the rain, or maybe because of it, her dark hair curled around her face.
Alex looked down at the piece of plastic. “What did you say?”
She tapped the plastic with one finger. “Your license is expired.”
Alex looked around the bar at the three men. “Of course not.” Picking up the license, he checked the date. She was right. Somehow he had allowed the license to expire. Considering he didn’t own a car, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He held the license in front of her eyes. “Look at the picture. Doesn’t the picture look like me?”
“Not really. That guy has a beard.”
He held the license out to the three men, and each shrugged. No question whose side they were on.
She eyed him warily. “Suppose you are Alexander Kimmel. So what? Kimmels don’t own Clover Hill Farms.” She tossed the license back onto the counter. “This doesn’t exactly reassure me.” Thrusting her shoulders back, she took a deep breath and stared the man straight in the eyes.
So she wasn’t a trusting sort. He guessed that was a good thing. “I’m Cyrus Carter’s cousin. My mother and his father are brother and sister. Call him. He’s expecting me.”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked Alex up and down. “Why didn’t Cy come pick you up?”
This time it was Alex’s turn to shrug. “You got me. He said the new vet’s coming over to look at a sick cow and he has to be there.”
Finally the smile he had been trying for with the pickup response appeared on the woman’s face. “Typical.” A sharp wrinkle appeared between dark brows as she looked up at Alex. “You’re Cy’s cousin? For real?”
Mike slid a thin phone across the top of the bar. “Call him.”
Sera picked up the cell phone and flipped through the screens. Finding what she needed, she held the phone to her ear. “Hello? Mrs. Carter? Hi. This is Serafina Callahan. Could I speak to Cyrus?” She nodded, her fingers toying with the snaps on her yellow poncho. “Yes, ma’am. We’re fine. Listen—” She rolled her eyes and shot an irritated look in Alex’s direction.
He held his hands out to the side. “Good luck getting a word in edgewise.” He smiled as he pictured his aunt pelting Sera with questions like snowballs.
Scooby picked up Sera’s glass, and just as he lifted it to his lips, Mike snatched it out of his hand. “Sorry, buddy.”
“Aww, come on. Just one sip.” Scooby held up one finger.
“No.” Mike emptied the glass in the sink with a smile.
“Mrs...Mrs. Carter, I’m at the airport, and there’s a guy here who says he’s Cy’s cousin...Uh-huh...Uh-huh...He is? Well, what if...Uh-huh...I see...Thank you...Good night.” She returned the phone to Mike, who dropped it in his shirt pocket.
Alex crossed his arms in satisfaction. “What did Aunt Jean say, Sera?” The satisfaction of being right bloomed in his chest. Now, if he could just convince her to give him a ride.
She stared at the bar. Her lips pursed once, twice, before she took a deep breath and looked at him, hard. “She confirmed you are who you say you are.”
Sera’s gaze flicked from the counter to his luggage. “That’s all you brought?”
“I’m just here for the weekend. I have a flight home Monday morning.” His license still lay on the counter. He retrieved it and returned his wallet to his back pocket.
“The New York connection. Out Monday, return Friday.” Her lips pursed, then straightened, and pursed again, before settling into a slight grimace. She’d apparently arrived at a decision, because she sprang up and strode toward the dark door with the colorful glass. The yellow poncho flared around her jean-clad legs like a superhero’s cape. “Come along, then.”
Alex cast a glance first at Scooby, then the ticket agent and then Mike, who reached under the counter and pulled out a Hershey’s bar, which he handed to Alex. “Try sweetening her up with this. She likes chocolate.”
Scooby and Al followed Sera into the main terminal. Switching off the lights in the bar, Mike disappeared into the back.
Grabbing his suitcase, Alex went to find the lady with the pickup. He wished he had never left the city.
CHAPTER TWO (#uda3775bd-5be3-545c-8b0c-883c323730f7)
AS HE HEADED for the front doors, the big overhead lights dimmed, leaving the terminal lobby in shadows. The young woman in the yellow poncho was his only option. Despite the nagging feeling of uncertainty in his chest, he followed.
That quick, she had disappeared. The sidewalk and road in front of the terminal were empty. His cousin owed him big-time after this. The least he could do when requesting a favor would be to pick him up at the airport. A sign read Taxi Stand, but the space was empty. Not unlike Scooby’s car rental agency.
He was wondering if he should try to call Cy when a truck badly in need of a paint job jerked to a stop in front of him. Smoky exhaust poured out the back, blending with the rain. He looked around for a shiny pickup truck. But the parking area was dead.
The window rolled down. Serafina Callahan propped her elbow in the window. “You aren’t waiting for me to open the door for you, are you? Because that’s not part of the service.”
Alex continued to stare at the monstrosity. Silver duct tape rimmed the front wheel well. The original bed had been replaced with a wooden flatbed. “Is this thing safe?”
“Old Blue works just fine. She gets me where I’m going.” She rolled up her window, her shoulder rising and falling with each rotation of the handle.
Alex took a breath. He walked around the front of the truck and pulled open the passenger door. The floorboards were about three feet off the ground with no running board. He set his carry-on on the seat, grabbed the edge of the dash and jumped in. “I guess that’s all that counts.” The door screeched as he pulled it shut.
The lights over the main terminal door dimmed. Inside the ticket agent leaned against the glass doors and waved. “Interesting characters.”
Sera shrugged. “What’s your point?” She turned the truck out of the parking lot and onto the narrow road. The truck stalled in the middle of the two lanes.
Alarmed, Alex looked over his shoulder for oncoming traffic. “We’re in the middle of the road.”
“No kidding.” Sera tried the key. The engine turned over once, twice, coughed, died.
“Do something.” He was wishing more and more he had opted for the plastic seats in the lobby. At least he wouldn’t be roadkill.
She switched off the headlights.
Alex pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He hadn’t called his mother in three weeks. He would die without saying goodbye.
The engine turned over, coughed and caught. Sera flipped on the headlights and shifted into first gear. “You’re a nervous sort, aren’t you?”
Alex put his hand to his chest. “Only since I arrived here.”
With the rain and the overcast sky, darkness had come early. The headlights lit up trees and shrubs close on both sides of the narrow road.
Looking for his phone, his hand felt the Hershey’s bar in his coat pocket. Maybe she was low on sugar. He offered her the candy bar. “From Mike. He seems to think you like chocolate.”
Her eyes lit on the bar held in his hand. She snatched the bar from his fingers. “And he would be right.”
They both saw the tree branch in the middle of the road at the same time. She slammed on the brakes. His hand shot forward and gripped the dash.
“Sorry. Tree branch. Middle of the road.” She ripped the paper from the candy bar and bit off a huge chunk. And then glanced his way guiltily. “I haven’t eaten all day.” She downshifted.
Except for the roaring of the big engine, the hiss of the tires on the wet road and the ripping of the candy bar wrapper, the next few miles passed in silence. The old truck seemed to find every pothole, which didn’t help his headache one bit. Alex held on to an overhead handgrip as they bounced down the road in the dark. “There’s no interstate highway between the airport and Clover Hill?”
In the glow of the dash lights, he thought he detected a small smile. “There is, but I don’t think my truck will float. This way gives us the best chance of getting home without ending up in the Chesapeake.” She cut him a quick glance. “Is that okay with you, Mr. Kimmel?”
“Call me—” His eyes widened as he saw the obstruction in the road while at the same time realizing she was looking at him. He opened his mouth to warn her but nothing came out. When she jerked her gaze back to the road, she twisted the wheel to one side, steering them toward a tree on the side of the road. Alex’s head slammed sideways and bounced off the window.
He caught a brief glimpse of a white tail and a big tree as his hand again reached for the dash. He wasn’t fast enough. His forehead hit the dash before his hand.
The engine rattled twice and then quit. Rain drummed on the roof of the cab. The headlights shone on a tangled mass of wet green. The tree they had been heading for was just outside the driver’s-side window.
“You just had to devour that candy bar while driving in the middle of a monsoon.” When he heard no response, his gaze slid from the tree to the driver, grimacing and rubbing her right knee. “Are you all right?” He looked her over for bleeding, but in the dim light provided by the headlights, he couldn’t tell which dark spots were water and which were blood.
“Deer.” She leaned her head back against the seat and shut her eyes.
“Deer?”
Opening her eyes, she said to him slowly, “I thought they’d be bedded down in this rain.”
“I see.” He didn’t see. All he cared about was whether they both survived the crash. Then, as he looked around, he cared even more about how they were getting out of this mess.
* * *
STARING AT THE blur of rain on the windshield, she was glad she was driving the sturdy, indestructible old pickup, because the tree would’ve done a lot more damage to a car than to the twenty-year-old truck. As far as her passenger... She glanced sideways. “I’m all right. Are you all right?”
The man rubbed his forehead. When he took his hand away, Sera saw a goose egg already forming above his right eyebrow. Leaning forward, she pressed her hand to his head.
As he jerked away, his head bounced off the window. “Ouch. This thing is a death trap.” He pushed on the door, which gave a loud whine.
Sera leaned back against her door. The man wasn’t very appreciative. “I was just trying to help.”
He held up his hands. “You’ve done enough already, trust me.”
She huffed out a blast of air. “Fine.” She turned the key. The engine sputtered and died. She closed her eyes and muttered a quick prayer. She turned the key again. The engine ground over and over... Please... The engine caught and she breathed a sigh of relief. She would have to rock the truck out of the ditch. Alex could get in or get out. She gave up trying to be nice. He pulled the door shut just as she put the truck in first gear, pressed the throttle and then quickly moved the handle to Reverse. The truck rocked forward, then backward, then stalled. She tried twice more but with no luck. She looked at her companion and tried to adopt what she thought was a hopeful tone. Maybe she had been too harsh. “We’re a little bit stuck.”
“What was your first clue?” Alex rubbed at the growing bump on his head before sending her a look. “So now what?”
Sera stared out at the branch pressed across the entire width of the windshield, blocking her view. Reddish buds were just pushing into leaf. The engine ticked in the silence.
She cleared her throat. “We walk.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn to look at her, but her gaze remained on the windshield. “Can’t you call a tow truck?” he asked.
She debated how to break the news to the newcomer. “I don’t have a cell phone.”
“You don’t have...” His hand slapped his coat pocket. “I have a cell phone.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed a button. The interior of the cab lit up. He swiped the screen and waited. The light went out and the cab returned to darkness. “What the heck?”
Sera drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. If anyone was going to get them out of this dilemma, it was she. He was obviously totally dependent on technology. “Probably no signal.”
Alex looked from the phone to the woman and back again. “What do you mean, no signal?”
“I mean, there are no cell towers on this side of the valley.”
Mumbling under his breath, Alex shoved the phone back into his pocket. “This phone can do everything, he says. When I get my hands on that guy...”
The rain pounded a beat on the metal roof of the cab. Already the windows were steamed up. Sera waited until his mumbling faded before stating what she thought was the obvious. “I’ve got a bush on my side. Can you open your door? The sooner we start walking, the sooner we’re home.”
Alex pushed on the door with such force it slammed into the tree trunk they had just missed.
“Hey, you just dented my door.”
He gave her a steely-eyed glare. “How can you tell?”
“You might have a point.” The man was getting cranky. And could she blame him? Maybe she should’ve shared the candy bar. At least then his sugar level would be up. She slid across the seat, where, although his feet were outside, he still leaned against the truck. “Excuse me, can you move? I can’t get out.”
Rather than move away, he turned, putting him much too close for comfort. Perching on the edge of the passenger seat, Sera waited for him to move away. Rain pattered the leaf-strewn ground around them. When his arms reached forward, she leaned back into the cab. His voice was gruff as he pulled up her hood. “It’s raining out here. Can’t have you getting wet.”
His hands pulled the hood tight around her face. She took a deep breath to slow her heart rate. “I won’t melt.” Suddenly realizing his jacket had a hood as well, she reached over his shoulder to return the favor, which would have been fine if the truck weren’t at a slight angle. When she reached forward, she started to slide off the seat, Alex automatically reached out to stop her fall. Her forward momentum, though, pushed Alex backward and they both landed in a patch of leaves with a soft splash. His arms wrapped around her waist, she lay motionless on top of him. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay? Lady, ever since I met you it’s been one disaster after another. If you hadn’t—”
Not wanting to hear any more about the candy bar, she kissed him. And wonder of wonders, he finally stopped complaining. Which was all she wanted to do. So she kissed him again.
* * *
ALEX LAY IN the wet leaves. Suddenly the icy water trickling into his ears was of less consequence than what had just happened in the last few minutes. This woman, this monster-truck-driving woman who he had known for a grand total of two hours, had just kissed him. In the cold rain. With warm lips. He tightened his arms around her waist just as she pushed herself away. The only sound was rain pattering down. “What was that about?”
She stood and, gripping the edge of the truck bed, worked herself up onto safer ground. “Let’s go, city boy. The sooner we start walking, the better.”
He lay back and stared up into the tree. Raindrops splatted the middle of his forehead. Had he been dreaming? She acted as if nothing had happened. And that kiss was definitely not nothing.
Putting the confusing double negative to the back of his mind, he jumped up, retrieved his carry-on, and then slammed the truck door, the exertion only partially alleviating his annoyance. He was with a completely irrational woman. His Italian leather loafers squished through puddles as he gripped the sides of the truck bed to pull himself up onto the road. At her touch on his sleeve he wheeled around. “Where did you come from?”
Her brow furrowed. She pointed to the right. “Ready?” She took off down the road. Alex looked back at the truck, hopelessly mired in the muddy ditch. He could stay here and pray for a passing vehicle, or he could follow the country girl. Heavy trees and shrubs crowded the road on both sides. He hurried to catch up. “How far to your place?”
“Maybe two miles.” The woman had quite a stride. She could give Manhattan pedestrians a run for their money. “So you live in the country, as well.”
“Yep.”
He wondered if she had taken offense. “I just meant like my cousin. Do you live on a farm?”
She stopped and faced him, poked his chest with her finger. “Look, I’m tired, I’m hungry and I don’t feel like chitchat. Okay?”
“Fine. I was just making conversation.” He continued on, lengthening his stride with determination. “But what was the deal with that kiss back there?”
Again with the finger in the chest. “First, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And second, we will never speak of this again.”
Despite his best city-block-eating pace, she caught up, and they continued along the road until they left the thickest trees behind.
In the distance he saw a brief flicker. “Is that—” He squinted. “It is. Headlights. Maybe we can get a ride.”
“They’re going in the opposite direction.”
“Aren’t you the epitome of positive thinking? Are you telling me the locals won’t stop for a couple of drowned rats in the middle of a monsoon?”
“I wouldn’t. Look what happened to me. If I hadn’t agreed to take you home—”
He stopped, indignant. “Me? You’re blaming this on me? You’re the one who took her eyes off the road to focus on a Hershey’s bar.”
Sera wheeled around. This time she gripped both shoulders with her hands and stood on her tiptoes. “Cool it with the Hershey’s bar. I wouldn’t have taken my eyes off the road...”
Nose to nose in the middle of the road, Alex had forgotten all about the oncoming vehicle until the headlights blinded him. But he could still see Sera’s wet, white face, her dark, curly hair and lips, made red by her constant biting. He heard the whir of an automatic window and then a woman’s voice. “Hey, you guys need a ride?”
Still absorbed in the stark color contrast of his companion’s face, Alex was reluctant to answer. But of course, he had to. “I do. I mean, we do.”
The side door of the van slid open. When he gripped Sera’s arm to help her into the back seat, she shot him a look. Whether of surprise or consternation he couldn’t tell in the dim light of the van. She climbed over a couple boxes and settled into a bucket seat.
The woman peeked over the front seat and reached out to shake hands. “Hi, I’m Wendy Valentine.”
Alex shook her hand. “Thanks for stopping.”
Sera leaned forward and also shook her hand. “Hey, you’re the local weather girl, aren’t you?”
With a sideways glance at the driver, Wendy laughed. “Up until last year I was. I’m on temporary assignment for an Atlanta station now.” She punched the man in the shoulder. “Josh is my driver.”
The look they shared and the ring on her left hand told Alex the young man with the dark beard was a lot more than her driver.
Peering into the rearview mirror, he spoke over his shoulder. “Josh Hunter. Where are you two headed?”
Sera responded before Alex could answer. “Not far. Last Chance Farm.”
Irritated at her attempt to control the situation, Alex spoke up. “Actually, I’m headed to Clover Hill Farms.”
Josh glanced over his shoulder. “You won’t be getting to Clover Hill Farms tonight. We can get you to Last Chance Farm, but the bridge over the creek is flooded. That’s what we were doing, getting camera footage of the bridge for the local station.” He executed a neat three-point turn and headed back in the direction from which he had come.
“Where’s your vehicle? Were you in an accident?” Wendy’s sharp eyes looked them over, presumably for signs of trauma.
“I... My truck ended up in a ditch.” Her voice lowered to a mutter. “So much for doing a good deed.”
“What did you say?” Alex looked at the woman huddled on the bucket seat, her feet propped on a suitcase on the floor. But he couldn’t see her face since she was looking out the window.
“Nothing.” Sera leaned forward. “There’s a big white mailbox at the end of the lane. You can just drop us off there.”
“I know where your farm is. Wendy’s parents’ house is a few miles farther down this road.”
The vehicle slowed as Josh turned in to the lane. Alex saw the white mailbox and then a long line of white board fence. A huge tree marked the end of the fence and then a big bush next to a small building. As Josh swung the vehicle around to the back of the big white house, the headlights lit up the earthen ramp leading to two big white barn doors. Swirling wisps of fog surrounded the cupola at the roof’s peak.
Wendy gasped. “You have a bank barn. How beautiful. You know, you can’t really see your place from the road.” When the lights hit the white brick and blue shutters of the back of the house Wendy exclaimed again. “Gorgeous! When was your house built, Sera?”
“In 1855. We don’t get much traffic out this way. Most people use the interstate.”
Alex detected a note of pride in Sera’s response. He slid open the side door. After dismounting, he turned and reached for Sera’s hand to help her over the boxes. She hesitated.
“Now you’re shy?” He felt a brief triumph as her cheeks pinked.
She took his hand but directed her comments to the couple in the front seat. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome,” Josh called out to them. The sliding door shut on its own, and Alex stood in the foggy mist with Sera, watching the van disappear down the drive.
“So the bridge over the creek is flooded and my cousin’s place is on the other side.” He turned and observed the big white barn building almost evaporating into the mist. “I can stay in the barn.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She led the way to a trellis leading into a fenced-in yard. A cobblestone path extended to the back porch. Sera mounted the steps and pulled open the screen door. She pushed on the door with her shoulder, but it didn’t budge.
Alex, reluctant to follow and still hoping his cousin would somehow miraculously appear, was only halfway down the path. He watched as she bumped the door with her hip. “Is it locked?”
She gave him a look as if she thought he wasn’t very bright, then shook her head. “The door sticks when it rains.” The third time she used her entire body to slam the door, which finally opened. Hand on the doorknob, she stopped, then looked back over her shoulder. “I should warn you. I have a dog. He’s not fond of strangers.”
Alex walked to the foot of the wooden steps and hesitated. He noticed her knit brow and turned-down lips and wondered what in the heck he was getting into. “Really.”
She glanced away, avoiding his eyes. “Don’t make any sudden moves around him, okay?”
He nodded, but the effort was lost. She was definitely avoiding his gaze. “What kind of dog?”
“Saint Bernard.”
He pictured a big, stout animal with a barrel fastened under his chin. “What’s his name?”
Her eyes narrowed. Her lips twitched. “Cujo.”
CHAPTER THREE (#uda3775bd-5be3-545c-8b0c-883c323730f7)
SERA DIDN’T USUALLY run in the rain, but the stranger currently occupying the bed in the spare room had thrown her. After a restless night and knowing a stranger slept under her roof, she needed to think. And the best place to think was outside. She stood on the porch and breathed deep of the chilly, damp air. Gray clouds hung low over the fields. She couldn’t tell if the rain was over or if there was more to come.
“What do you think? Is it clearing up?” She glanced at her companion.
A tall, skinny mongrel with a coat the color of slate gazed up with concern. At the distant rumble of thunder, the dog turned and pressed his nose to the door. Of her two dogs, the animal who had appeared just the summer before was the more skittish one.
“The thunder’s moving away, Lucky.” But she opened the door and let him into the house, where he would disappear into the den and hide under the grand piano. Sera stretched and bounced down the stairs. She needed this run. It would relax her. She jogged through the arch and ran past the shed where she parked the truck. The empty space reminded her she had to figure out how to retrieve the old pickup from the ditch. The brushy branches of the big mock orange bush next to the building showed just a hint of green. Soon the shrub would be covered with thousands of snow-white blossoms and perfume the air with their sweet scent.
She ran past the field where tiny green shoots poked through the dark soil. Sweet corn was one of her most profitable crops. Few people grew their own, but most still loved the traditional sweet corn for summer picnics. She breathed deep of the damp air and continued her steady pace. She wondered if the newcomer was awake yet and how soon Cy Carter would arrive to claim his long-lost relative. Her breaths came shorter as she started up the incline to the top of the hill. Leaving the bare fields behind, she slowed and then stopped in the orchard. Fog shrouded the bare apple trees, but at least the rain had stopped. Usually at this point she could see Little Bear Creek, but fog hung so thick over the valley she couldn’t see the bottom of the hill.
Heat rose up her neck and onto her cheeks as she remembered running off the road the night before. She should have been watching for deer, but the man’s presence had distracted her. When she had slid across the seat to get out of the truck, he had reached up for her hood. But for a minute she thought he was standing there, hands up, waiting for her, as if he had lifted her down from the truck dozens of times. She had almost brushed away his outstretched arms. But the offer of help came so rarely she couldn’t resist. Then when she had accidentally fallen against him and they lay there in the dark and the blessed quiet, she had the strangest urge to put her head on his chest and close her eyes. The surrounding darkness and the rain dropping on the leaves had created a kind of comfortable bubble that seemed made just for the two of them. Serafina Callahan and Alexander Kimmel. When he’d begun complaining, she just wanted him to stop talking. Just wanted one more minute of peace and quiet. So yes, she had kissed him. But if she pretended it hadn’t happened...well, then, it hadn’t happened. She shook her head to dispel the image.
The still-bare branches reached into the fog like bony fingers. Singling out a lone tree, she framed the shot with the thumbs and forefingers of both hands. She really should go back and get her camera. Funny that her brain still went into picture-taking mode after all this time. She took one last look at the foggy tableau and started back down the hill. The rain picked up.
Aunt Hope would have coffee brewing by now. And if she were lucky, their impromptu visitor would be out of the spare bedroom and across the creek where he belonged.
* * *
HE OPENED HIS eyes to Big Ben, the old-fashioned windup alarm clock his grandfather used to keep by the side of the bed. Next to the clock sat a crystal dish full of peppermints. He definitely wasn’t sleeping in his own cramped bedroom on the Lower East Side. Rain drummed a steady rhythm on the roof. The bed was warm, and for a moment all he wanted to do was pull the comforter over his head and sink farther into the soft pillow that smelled like sunny days. The usual tenseness in his neck and shoulders was gone. Maybe he should put in for vacation. He wondered if he could actually relax for a week.
When he lifted his head off the pillow to glance out the window, his forehead throbbed with pain. He probed the bump over his eye as he glanced around the spacious room. The white metal bed frame sat high off the floor, which was covered with a rag rug. Sheer curtains hung in the windows, but since the sun wasn’t shining, the curtains had nothing to hide.
He lay back against the crisp pillowcase and closed his eyes. Thanks to the young couple with the van, he and Sera hadn’t walked far the night before, but rolling around in the sodden leaves had left him wet and muddy. She had marched him through a dimly lit kitchen, down a dark hallway and up the stairs to the guest room and the bathroom, where he had taken a hot shower. He hadn’t seen her since. He hadn’t seen Cujo either, concluding the woman just wanted to mess with his head. She was doing a good job. His carry-on sat on a straight-back chair next to the window.
Throwing on a T-shirt and jeans, he entered the hallway and was greeted with the sight of six closed doors. He must have been more disoriented the night before than he realized, because he tried three doors, opening into empty bedrooms before finding the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. His wet clothes from the night before still lay in the claw-foot tub. Then he descended the stairs into an entry. Gray light streamed through the side glass panels of the big front door, where a coatrack and bench sat to the right. He peeked through the adjacent doorway. A grand piano occupied the space between two windows at the front. A large rolltop desk occupied the other corner. In between, a couch fronted a brick fireplace.
He followed his nose down the hall toward the back of the house. Somebody had made coffee. Pictures covered almost every inch of the flowered wallpaper decorating the length of the hallway. Two baby pictures, a faded wedding photo, graduation pictures of a boy and a girl. He stopped and stared at a younger Sera. The dark hair was poker straight. A photograph of an orchard in bloom.
Leaving the old photos behind, he continued down the hall. The house was silent. His hostess was still asleep.
The coffee smell grew stronger as he entered the warm kitchen. The only light came from the flames glowing through the grates of an old white cookstove. Spying a coffeemaker on the counter, he touched the glass pot. Still warm.
He opened the overhead cupboard door and reached for a mug. Yellow script and a slipper-shaped yellow flower adorned opposite sides of a brown cup. The Wildflower.
“Coffee’s not more than twenty minutes old.”
At the sound of the unexpected voice, the cup flew out of his hands. Alex had always considered himself to have quick reflexes. He snagged the cup just before it hit the floor.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Alex looked around the dim kitchen. He still couldn’t see where the voice had originated. The kitchen table in the middle of the room was unoccupied, a sugar bowl and salt and pepper shakers in the middle. In the corner opposite the cookstove was a rocking chair with an afghan, next to a lumpy dog pillow. At the sight, he stiffened. So there was a dog. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. The dog must be outside. He continued his perusal of the big kitchen. Sink, stove and refrigerator.
But when his investigation revealed a second dog pillow in the other corner occupied by a huge, spotted dog, his heart stopped. Snores came from the large wet nose, the lower lips quivering with each exhalation. The hairs on the back of Alex’s neck prickled as he took in the size of the black, brown and white animal. Cujo?
Returning his gaze to the rocking chair, he squinted. A tiny woman sat there with an afghan over her lap. Her face was in shadows, which was why his gaze had skimmed past her the first time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” Keeping his voice low, he sneaked a glance at the big dog. Still asleep. “Do you mind if I have some coffee?”
“Help yourself.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “So you’re Jean’s nephew from New York City.”
Alex set his cup on the table. The chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it from the table. When the dog lifted his massive head to investigate, Alex froze. Only when the head dropped to the pillow did he breathe a sigh of relief and sit.
He sipped the hot, strong coffee before answering. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry for the imposition. I ran into Sera at the airport, she called my aunt and my aunt talked her into letting me stay here overnight. I guess the bridge was flooded.”
“That’s my Sera. Always taking in strays. In between all her other jobs.”
Sipping the hot coffee, Alex’s brows knit at the reference. “Are you Sera’s grandmother?”
“I’m her great-aunt. You can call me Hope.”
He glanced up at the rooster clock over the sink. He had slept later than usual. “Is Sera still sleeping?”
“Heavens, no. She runs every morning. Says it helps her organize her thoughts. You turning up must’ve given her something to think about.” Chuckling, the woman stood. “Why don’t I fix you some breakfast? Bacon and eggs sound good?” She laid the striped afghan over the back of the chair and smoothed the front of her blouse. Her gray hair was wrapped in a braid and pinned on top of her head.
Alex couldn’t believe how tiny the woman was. Why, she barely reached his chest. “You shouldn’t bother. Coffee’s fine.”
But the woman seemed not to have heard him as she retrieved a heavy black iron skillet and dropped it onto the wood stove with a clang. Minutes later bacon sizzled.
“So you’re her great-aunt. Just the two of you here?”
She set a tub of butter and a jar of jam in the middle of the table and paused to give him her undivided attention. “At the moment. Chance was just home for a visit. That’s Sera’s brother.” Her face lit with a broad smile. “He’s a singer. That’s why she happened to be at the airport when you came in. Chance was on his way back to Nashville.” She carried a carton of eggs to the stove. “Mark my words. One of these days he’ll be singing at the Grand Ole Opry.”
She cracked an egg into a smaller skillet with one hand. The sound seemed to finally stir the big dog, who stood and stretched. He took two steps in Alex’s direction and growled, stared at him with droopy brown eyes.
“Should I leave?” He didn’t take his eyes from the dog.
“Why do you ask?” She was busy at the stove, laying crispy strips of bacon on paper towels.
“Cujo’s awake. Maybe I should go outside before he gets excited.” Alex eased out of the chair and backed toward the door. The dog dropped his nose to the floor and snorted. Alex reached behind him for the door handle when he heard a footfall outside. The door slammed into him and sent him flying in the dog’s direction. Coffee flew out of the cup as he tumbled onto the pillow where the big dog had been lying just seconds before. He curled up in a ball and waited, certain Cujo wouldn’t appreciate a stranger in his bed. Cool air drifted over him from the open door.
“What are you doing?” Sera’s voice was calm.
She probably didn’t want to further excite the dog. Feeling a breeze, Alex peeked through the crook of his elbow. Inches from his face, a fluffy white tail waved back and forth. “Protecting my vital organs.” When the tail continued to wag, he pushed himself upright and leaned against the wall. Pink tongue hanging out, the dog appeared to be smiling as he stared up at the young woman.
Alex was awestruck, his focus rooted to the woman who’d pushed through the screen door. Her yellow hood was pushed back, revealing dark, curly hair caught up in a high ponytail. Black ringlets caressed her cheeks, pink from exertion.
Her face flushed and dripping water, Sera covered her mouth with her hand as she looked down at Alex. “Good idea. Quick thinking, in fact.” She grabbed the dog on either side of the furry neck and spoke in a firm voice. “Cujo, not food. Not food. Outside.” She opened the door and the dog trotted outside. “There, you’re safe.” At the same time a mottled gray dog about half the size of the Saint Bernard appeared from the hallway.
Alex wondered if he had just been made a fool of but decided as long as the monster dog was outside he didn’t care. The gray dog appeared harmless. Rising from the pillow, he eyed the coffee leaving a dark stripe down the flowered wallpaper. “Sorry about your wall.”
Pulling two towels from a drawer, Sera handed him one and then, wiping her face with the other, moved to the stove to exchange a few quiet words with her great-aunt. Alex thought he heard a chuckle from the older woman, but it may have been a cough. He wiped the spilled coffee first from the wall and then the floor.
“Here you go, young man.” A big smile on her face, the older woman set a plate where he had been sitting before the dog woke up.
Three eggs and at least six strips of bacon. “I don’t usually eat this much for breakfast.” He glanced at the older woman, who still wore the wide smile. He could only guess she was happy to have someone to cook for.
With a chuckle she refilled his cup. “You’re a growing boy. Eat up, son.” She glanced behind him. “You deserve it after the morning you’ve had.”
Just as he lifted his cup to his lips, the gray dog stuck his nose between his elbow and his waist, jiggling the full cup. “Ouch.” Hot coffee soaked through his clean jeans. He grabbed the towel and pressed it to his thigh.
Sera rushed over and grabbed the dog by the collar. Meeting his gaze for just a second, she smiled. “Lucky, stop that.” Sera coaxed the dog to the pillow by the rocking chair, where Lucky rested his head on his paws, dark eyes darting between the woman and the man.
Sera pulled the yellow poncho over her head and hung it on a hook behind the door. “Maybe we should get you a travel mug, Mr. Kimmel. You’re having serious coffee issues this morning.”
Alex looked around the big kitchen for more pillows. Just the two. Biting off half a piece of bacon, he threw Sera a long look. “Have I met all your animals?”
Before answering, Sera poured a cup of coffee and then turned and leaned against the counter. “You’ve met both of my dogs, but not all of my animals.” She brought the cup to her lips. “Did you sleep well?”
He swore her eyes—he couldn’t decide if they were blue or green—had twinkled, and he feared she had something else up her sleeve. He refused to give her the satisfaction of showing his concern. “Like the proverbial log. Is the bridge still flooded?”
“Too foggy to see.” She grabbed the last piece of bacon from his plate and sat opposite him.
He scowled at his plate. “I should call Cy. I have a lot of work to do. The sooner he can pick me up, the easier for everyone.”
“Work? I thought you were visiting your relatives.”
He decided to ignore the comment. Pulling his phone from his pants pocket, he pressed a button. Nothing. He stood and walked over to the window above the sink. Then he turned an eye on Sera. “Don’t tell me. No cell towers around here.”
“Oh, we have cell towers.” She crossed her legs and smoothed the fabric of her sweatpants as if she were wearing linen trousers.
Holding the phone closer to the window, he tried again. Still nothing. He fixed her with a stare.
Holding the cup to her lips, she shrugged. “But we’re in a bit of a dip here. If you want a signal for your cell phone, you’ll have to walk up to the orchard on the hill.” She gulped her coffee and sighed, as if her job were done.
Clenching his fingers around the cell, he glanced down at the screen, which displayed a photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Somewhere he wished he were at the moment. Anywhere, as a matter of fact. The Golden Gate Bridge would do, as well. Any bridge. “So no contact with the outside world.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sera walked over to the back door and held out both hands like a model on a game show. A phone hung between the door frame and the cupboard. She picked up the receiver. “You’ve heard of landlines, I presume.” She dialed a number.
Alex walked back down the hall, leaving Sera to make arrangements for someone to pick him up. If he stayed in the kitchen one minute longer with the monster-truck-driving madam, he feared he might rip the phone out of the wall in frustration. And then she would sic the dogs on him and he would be history. He stared out through the glass panels flanking the front door to the lane they had driven down the night before. For the first time, he noticed two horses in the front pasture. They would probably turn on him as well, stomping him into pieces in the dirt.
“Alex. Your cousin wants to talk to you.” Turning away from the grazing animals, he looked down the dark hall. Sera’s head peeked around the corner. She held out the handset, connected to the wall with a curly cord.
He walked back past the photos and took the receiver from her hand. “Hello?”
“Hey, cuz. How was your night?” Cyrus’s deep voice echoed through the phone. If Alex didn’t know better, he could swear his cousin sounded amused.
Turning his back to the kitchen, Alex stretched the cord into the hallway. “Listen, whatever this favor is, it better be quick. You’ve already used up most of your quota. She wrecked the truck last night. Among other things. I’m lucky to be alive.”
Cyrus laughed. “Where’s the truck?”
Alex held out the phone and looked at the receiver, unable to believe his cousin’s question. “Where’s the truck? How about, am I hurt?”
“Obviously you’re not hurt, or we wouldn’t be talking. Where’s the truck?”
“Not far from here. You’ll pass it when you come to pick me up.”
“Well, that’s the thing. See, the bridge is still flooded, and I can’t come get you unless I go way out of my way. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time.”
Alex smacked the wall with his fist and then winced at the pain. “I wanted to stay in a hotel in Shadow Falls in the first place, but you insisted I—”
“Whoa, fella. Settle down. By staying at Sera’s—I already asked Sera if you could stay another night and of course, being the nice person she is, she said yes—you can do me a favor while you’re there.”
Summoning what patience he had left, Alex was reminded that Cyrus was indeed Jean’s son. The two could talk your ear off. Funny how easily his cousin had slipped in the news he wasn’t coming to get him. “You’re the one who suggested I stay with you while I’m working on the theater mall project. You said we could get reacquainted.”
“I did. I do. And we will. But I want you to look over Sera’s farm and give me a fair market value. So this little twist of circumstances works to my advantage.”
Alex turned. Sera stood at the back door, hands behind her in the pockets of her jeans, her hair curling as it dried. He lowered his voice. “She’s selling you her farm?”
“She is. She just doesn’t know it yet. One way or the other, Last Chance Farm is going to be mine by the end of the year. And you, my favorite cousin from the big city, are going to help make that happen.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#uda3775bd-5be3-545c-8b0c-883c323730f7)
SHE STOOD ON the back porch, breathing in the damp air and waiting while Aunt Hope found Alex a pair of Chance’s rubber boots and a poncho. She had absolutely no desire to show their visitor around the farm, but when he had asked, and Aunt Hope said, “Why, that’s a good idea, gives me some quiet time,” she didn’t have much choice.
Underneath the kitchen window, Aunt Hope’s herb garden sported bright green sprouts in the freshly turned earth despite the cool spring. She would package herb bouquets for the farmer’s market along with Sera’s larger produce. The onion sets she had planted two months earlier, just before the onion snow—hopefully the last snow of winter—had sprouted. A clump of chives in the corner grew green, and a double row of string for the sugar snap peas ran along the edge. On the trellis, new leaves jutted from the rose canes woven through the lattice. The door opened behind her.
The heavy air seemed to shift as he came to stand beside her. She moved an inch to the left. “Where would you like to go?”
“I don’t know. I got the feeling your great-aunt wanted us out of the house, so here I am. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
She shrugged. “Actually, with the rain, there’s not much to do today. The soil’s too wet to work.” She finally turned to look at him. Light brown stubble, a shade lighter than his hair, covered his face.
“Where’s Cujo?” He scanned the enclosed yard and then the open space between the backyard and the barn.
Fighting back a smile, she cleared her throat and tried to sound serious. “Don’t worry. He has a morning routine. He won’t bother you.” She noticed Alex shivered, but whether from the damp chill or her words, she couldn’t say. “Let’s go.” She strode off in the direction of the barn.
The fog swirled around them as she led Alex past the shed and the big mock orange bush. Just beyond the garden, the white barn loomed out of the fog. Sera opened a door fitted into the gray stone foundation and entered the dim interior. When Alex didn’t follow, she stuck her head out the door.
Alex stared up at the huge structure.
“Committing the dimensions to memory?”
“No. Just looking.” With a last glance at the barn, he followed her inside.
Sera flicked a switch and a row of light bulbs illuminated a long hallway with stalls on one side and an open stairway on the other. “We’re on the lower floor of a bank barn. Built the year after the house.”
Alex peeked into the nearest stall. “Do you have any animals?”
“Two old horses. Mine and my mom’s. Sometimes I put them in during the winter, if the weather’s bad.”
“That’s right. I saw a bay and a palomino out front.”
“That’s them. And as of yesterday we have a litter of kittens.” She dropped to her knees on a pile of hay under a short flight of simple wooden stairs. She pulled aside the hay to show Alex five tiger-striped kittens and one black, mewing and crawling, their eyes still closed. “People drop animals off down by the mailbox. Sometimes dogs but mostly cats. I usually take them to the animal shelter, but this one had her kittens before I could get around to it. Six kittens. Can you believe it?”
“You have a lot of room. What’s six more cats?” Alex leaned against the stairs and crossed his arms.
He was obviously bored. Sera reached into a container and emptied food into a metal pan. “If the mama cat isn’t fixed, she could have two more litters this year. And these kittens could be having kittens by September. Trust me, it gets expensive.”
“Where’s the mother?”
“She’s out earning her keep.”
Alex threw her a puzzled look. “Excuse me?”
Relaxing on her knees, bent over the kittens, Sera smiled. “Catching mice, I hope. Everybody has a job on the farm.”
“I see.”
Sera pushed the bedding back around the litter and stood, brushing bits of hay from her sweatpants.
“Two dogs, two horses and seven cats.”
She nodded. “Eight cats. Smoky is a gray tomcat and he’s neutered. But I can’t afford to spay or neuter every cat that’s dropped off. Hazards of owning a farm.”
When he didn’t answer, she fastened the lid on the cat-food container. “I’ll show you where we used to store the hay.” She started up the stairs and disappeared. Her head reappeared through the hole cut in the ceiling. “Be careful. These are just boards nailed on risers.”
Gripping the edge of the upper floor, Alex climbed the stairs and poked his head through the hole. He pulled himself out into the upstairs. “This place is huge.”
She brushed some hay off a wide beam running across the width of the barn. “Chance and I used to play hide-and-seek in here with Cy and his older sister all the time.” She looked up at a fluttering of wings high in the loft. “We would play for hours.”
Walking to the big open barn doors, Alex stood at the top of the earthen ramp that led down to the car shed and looked out across the fields, where tiny green shoots poked through the soil. “Corn?”
Nodding, she came to stand beside him. “Sweet corn.”
“So you and Cy are old friends?”
She started at the shift in conversation. The man seemed too inquisitive for someone just passing through, but then again maybe he was just making small talk. “We’ve known each other for a long time.” She hesitated, then continued, “Funny, you and I have never crossed paths.”
He took so long to answer she thought he hadn’t heard her. His response was quiet. “My parents moved to Shadow Falls after I was in college. Cy and I didn’t spend much time together as kids.”
She sighed. “He wants to buy the place.” She thought Alex would look surprised, but he just continued to stare out at the fields.
As a bird swooped by them out the doors, he glanced up at the rafters. “Is the farm for sale?”
She bit her lip. “Good question.”
He finally fixed her with the same studied stare he had been bestowing on the fields. “How about that tour?”
“Follow me. You’ll want to ride.” She led the way to the empty shed.
“Are you driving?”
One raised light brown eyebrow hinted at Sera landing in the ditch the night before. She propped her hands on her hips. “Of course.”
The golf cart was parked in the third stall. The empty middle stall reminded her again she had to figure out a way to retrieve the truck. Settling into the front seat, Sera waited for Alex. But only when she patted the seat beside her did Alex move toward the vehicle.
“A golf cart. On a farm?”
She turned the key. “My dad would take any payment for a gig. He and the band did a show at a golf course fund-raiser one year.”
Alex reached for the back of the seat and then froze. “Wait a minute. I thought you said he wasn’t around.”
Sera looked over her shoulder. The Saint Bernard lay curled up in the wooden bed of the golf cart. She threw Alex a glance. “I said he had things to do. A ride around the property is one of them. He’s too lazy to walk.”
With a last narrow-eyed glance at the dog, Alex settled next to her and gripped the edge of his seat. “I think I’m ready.” He pulled out his phone, checked the time and with a grimace returned the phone to his pocket.
“Got somewhere to be?” Sera frowned as she pulled out of the shed. This guy wasn’t interested in looking around. At that moment she decided to let Cy know in no uncertain terms how much he owed her for babysitting his cousin. “We’ll start out front.”
Sera pointed to the fields on either side of the lane leading to the house. “Horse pasture. Just my mom’s horse and mine now.”
“Very nice.” Alex let go of the dash and leaned back in the seat. “Do you ride?”
A feeling of nostalgia washed over her as they passed the two horses. At one time she had ridden her palomino gelding every day. “Not as much as I used to. You?”
Alex shook his head. “The few times we visited, Cy and I would ride his ponies down to the creek. But it’s been a long time.”
At the mailbox Sera turned left onto the berm of the main road but soon opted for a tight rutted two track that took them into a patch of woods.
The golf cart bounced over a fallen branch. At his grunt she gave him an appraising look. “How’s your head?”
“Not bad. Your great-aunt’s coffee helped quite a bit.” He glanced around. “Lots of trees.”
“We have twenty acres of timber. It might be ready to be logged. That’ll give me some extra cash.”
“Is money tight?” Alex didn’t look at her when he asked the question, just held on to the dash and scrutinized his surroundings as she motored through the woods.
At his question a tingle ran down her spine as she remembered who she was talking to. Cy’s cousin. Cy Carter, the neighbor who had indicated his interest in buying her family’s farm. “Just something we do periodically.”
Leaving the woods behind, she followed the narrow path uphill until they came out among the bare trees of the apple orchard. She shut off the golf cart and leaned back against the seat. “Your cousin has a flag—”
“Finally I have a signal. I have to make a call.” He jumped out of the cart and strode off.
“Okay.” But her reply was wasted. He was already walking away, talking rapidly and gesticulating in the air. Why exactly was this New York cousin visiting his country relative? Soon enough, he would be out of her hair.
His face was pensive as he walked back to the cart. He shoved the phone in his pocket, glanced briefly at the Saint Bernard and resumed his place next to her. He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Does the quiet ever get on your nerves?”
“You get used to it.”
He gestured at the trees around them. “What kind of trees?”
“Apple.”
Alex’s brows raised in surprise. “All of them?”
“Yep.” She nodded. “These apples are eating apples. Crisp, sweet. They ripen early September. I sell them at the farmer’s market in town.” She pointed to the low cloud cover hanging over the creek. “Your cousin’s place is on the other side.”
“What about that place?” He pointed to a small log cabin at the base of the hill next to another grove of trees. Smoke coming out the stone chimney disappeared into the fog.
“That’s the oldest structure on the farm.” She followed his gaze, thinking of the older man inside recovering from pneumonia. With a stab of guilt, she remembered the flue should have been checked last year and she hadn’t had the money to hire someone. This year, for sure.
In the sudden silence a moan sounded from the cart bed. They both looked over their shoulders at the big dog.
Alex’s left eyebrow lifted so high it disappeared under a shock of hair. “Was that a growl or a groan?”
Sera shrugged and frowned, pretending to be concerned. “You just never know with him. Ready to head back?”
“Sure.” He pointed to the trees next to the small cabin. “Are they apple trees, as well?”
“Yes, but they’re not the best. Sometimes Aunt Hope makes apple crisp, but I don’t know what my mom was thinking when she planted them. She always said how great the soil up here was for apples, but I just don’t get it. I can’t give them away.” She turned the cart around and headed back toward the house.
“So you and your great-aunt own the farm.”
Sera peered at Alex, wondering why he was asking so many questions, but he was looking around at the orchard. “My brother and I do. Aunt Hope will live here as long as...as long as we do.”
“But your brother lives in Nashville.”
How did he know that? “True.” He had been alone in the kitchen with Aunt Hope, and Aunt Hope trusted everybody.
“So where do your parents live?”
As always, the question caused her heart to stutter. After ten years, she thought the response would get easier. But it never did. “They passed away.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex glance her way. She pulled up to the arch leading into the backyard, grateful he had waited until the tour was over to bring up the subject of her parents. “Here you are. You should go on in.” She waited until he stepped out, and without a backward glance, she and the Saint Bernard went for another ride. Being outside in the fog and the rain was still better than being inside with the inquisitive stranger.
* * *
ALEX AGAIN WOKE to silence Sunday morning. The thick fog had hovered over the area all day. Except for supper, Sera had kept out of sight. While Aunt Hope napped after lunch, he sat at the rolltop in the front room. The desk surface was covered with stacks of papers as was the floor between the chair and the bookcase. The amount of dust told him the stacks hadn’t been disturbed in years. He spent a few hours working on the theater mall complex planned for the local area, then found an old paperback and spent the rest of the day reading.
Now he lay still in the comfortable bed. No rain drumming on the roof, no water running through the drainpipe at the side of the house. He glanced at the window by the bed. Faint light shone through the gauze curtains.
He lay in the soft bed thinking about his cousin’s comment. After Sera’s tour the day before, he wasn’t surprised Cy wanted the farm. Though the house and barn both were in serious need of maintenance, the structures were solid. And the property was fine. If just Sera and her great-aunt lived here, no wonder they couldn’t keep up. He was surprised she hadn’t sold long ago. Alex wasn’t shocked that Cyrus wanted to expand his operation. One thing he and his cousin had in common was a desire to outdo their fathers. Of course Cy would be interested in Last Chance Farm.
The clothes he had worn on the flight in two days ago were pressed and folded neatly on top of the dresser. Aunt Hope could give his laundry service a run for its money. His loafers, placed near the cookstove the day before, had finally dried but would never be the same.
“But they’ll get me home.” Alex stretched. Despite the fog yesterday, he had enjoyed riding around the farm with Sera in the golf cart. After brushing his teeth and combing his hair, he dressed and grabbed his overnight bag.
He strolled down the stairs and cast a last glance over the pictures in the hallway before entering the kitchen. The room was empty, but the light on the coffee maker was lit. He opened the cupboard and removed the mug with the yellow script. He set his bag by the back door and helped himself to coffee.
The two dog pillows were empty, as was the rocking chair. He strolled over to the sink, where a beam of light lit the purple and pink blossoms of the African violets. Through the window he saw Sera’s truck parked next to the barn and wondered how she had recovered it. He walked outside, keeping an eye out for the dangerous Saint Bernard.
He approached the truck. The bed was filled with firewood. Seeing no signs of life other than a tiger-striped cat, presumably the culprit who had chosen this farm for a home for her and her kittens, skulking through the herb garden, he decided to walk up to the orchard and make a phone call.
From the top of the hill, he could see the stream below, winding its way between the fields of corn and grass. Beyond the bare trees he could make out the silver tops of Cyrus’s grain silos, an American flag at the top of the tallest was the only bit of color in the landscape.
After a quick call to the airport and some schedule changes, he punched a familiar number. “Good morning.”
“Alex?” The phone sounded as if it had been dropped.
He looked at the receiver to see if he had hit the right number and then hit the speaker button. “Carrie? Are you there?”
“Alex? Hold on.” Carrie Oliver must have gone outside because Alex heard the sound of a door closing. Daughter of the founder of Oliver and Associates, Carrie was one of his two closest friends from law school. She had been instrumental in bringing him into her father’s firm. “Hi. You’re up early.”
“So are you.” Alex looked at the surrounding trees, picturing the sidewalk and steps outside Carrie’s apartment. “Where are you?”
“Helping Will.” Through the phone, the sound of a siren whooped nearby, then faded.
“Helping Will do what?” Will was the other close friend from law school, except Will had lasted only a year before dropping out. With the chirping of the birds and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees, Alex felt very far away from Manhattan. “Is he there? With you?”

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