Someday she’d have an enormous yard where she could garden and plant every type of flower she’d ever wanted. Perhaps she could find work at a nursery or florist here in town?
When she turned onto the street that would take her back to the apartment, Ally stumbled. The man coming out of the diner looked an awful lot like Jason.
She jogged in place on the corner, watching the couple, wondering if Jason’s brother was in town for the week?
The woman laughed at something the man said, leaned in and kissed him, one foot raised, straight out of a rom com movie. When the guy turned to face the street, Ally stopped, frozen in place, her mouth hanging open.
There was no mistake. Jason was kissing his supposed estranged wife. Not only were they kissing, but they were having breakfast early in the morning on a weekday, when she knew they lived an hour away from each other.
As she stared, a ringing noise filled her ears, drowning out the traffic whizzing down the busy street. Oblivious to her presence, Jason opened the car door for his wife, kissing her passionately before he went around to the driver’s side door, climbed in, and roared off into traffic.
Guess the parts had come in for Shelly’s car.
A sound bubbled up, something between a snort and a sob.
Please, no.
She had to hold it together until she was safely inside her apartment. A businessman on the corner shot her a wary glance, then moved several steps away. Guess Jason wasn’t getting divorced after all.
Christina spent her day off at the beach, playing volleyball, soaking up the sun, and swimming in the ocean.
When she arrived home, five enormous bouquets of flowers made a semicircle in front of the door to her apartment.
They were all from Enrique. There was a voice mail on her phone from him apologizing for not showing up the other night. He said the meeting with a potential partner had gone through the night. Exhausted, he’d gone straight home to bed. He ended the message by inviting her to dinner later that week at the hot new restaurant everyone was talking about, promising to make things up to her.
The flowers smelled wonderful. She placed a bouquet in each room, singing to herself as she went from room to room.
Every couple had ups and downs, he would get through this busy time at the club then things would go back to normal.
When she drove over to see her dad, she was in a great mood. Well, until Mandy answered the door. The house Christina had grown up in was in foreclosure with the bank, so her dad had moved in with the woman he planned to marry.
It was her mom’s fault for not paying the mortgage. Her dad said her mom hadn’t kept up with the bills, and by the time he found out it was too late. Her mom said it was her dad that hadn’t paid the bills. It was all so confusing.
Why couldn’t everything go back to normal?
“Your dad’s out by the pool.”
Mandy led the way, needle thin heels clicking across the marble floors. She wore a gold bikini with a hot pink coverup. The coverup was open so Christina could see the baby bump.
For the rest of the afternoon, Christina did her best to get to know Mandy. They had the same taste in clothes, music, and movies, but absolutely not in men, because that would be disgusting.
Her mom left Miami without a backward glance, all for some tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Why couldn’t her mom at least try to be civil to everyone?
No, her mom didn’t care about anyone but herself, and she certainly didn’t care how Christina felt about the whole rotten situation.
Mandy would be a fun stepmom, unlike some stepmothers her friends had to deal with. Since her dad moved in with Mandy, he seemed happier than she’d seen him in a long time. When she walked through the patio doors, her dad was relaxing in the water, a drink on the ledge of the pool.
After dinner, Christina left her dad’s and went home to shower and change clothes before meeting up with Enrique at his club. He’d invited her to spend the evening in the VIP area with his friends. It was a perfect night filled with dancing, laughter, and the man she was crazy about by her side.
By the time she saw the sign for Boone, Tara knew she was getting closer to Blueberry Hill. One more hour and she’d be there, in her new home.
As she wound through the mountains and narrow roads, she gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. What if there weren’t any grocery stores? Or a hospital?
When a half hour passed and she hadn’t seen a single town, Tara was ready to give up and turn back. Call the lawyer, tell him to sell the cottage sight unseen, and she’d go find a nice crowded city.
She’d never been brave. No, Tara had gone straight from graduating college with her Master’s degree, to living with Harry, to getting married and having kids. This move was hands down the scariest thing she’d ever done. What had she been thinking to move to a town where she didn’t know a soul? Oh, right, that she would have a house, free and clear.
It had been so long since she’d spent time at the lake, no one from the past would remember her, or care who she was. Tara was utterly alone, starting over, when she should have been on a safari or wandering through ancient ruins.
By the time she spotted the turnoff for Blueberry Hill, she was at least an hour from any semblance of civilization. If she hadn’t had satellite radio in the SUV, Tara would have been stuck listening to country songs about going home again.
But the songs were wrong. You couldn’t go home again, not when there was nothing to go home to. Whether or not you wanted to was a whole different story.
As she came around a narrow curve, she unclenched her hands one at a time, shaking each one to get the feeling back in her fingers.
By the time she’d driven into town, she’d finally relaxed. Blueberry Hill was quaint, like something out of a magazine or one of those towns featured on one of those travel shows.
Of course, the main road into town was named Main Street. The shops looked like something out of a Christmas movie, all cute names, pretty muted colors, and flowers blooming in pots outside the shops and along the street. The parking spots were all angled. There were wide sidewalks and plenty of benches to encourage dawdling, or serve as a spot for weary husbands to rest while their wives shopped.
There was only one stoplight. While she waited for the light to turn green, she looked to her left and right, spotting a post office, a community center, and a few other shops. On the corner was a florist called Sweet Magnolia. A riot of color in the window made her long to dig in the dirt, plant thousands of bulbs, a garden in bloom for every season.
The light turned green, and she passed Hair Me Out. She could see retro pink chairs through the plate-glass window.
Next to the hair salon was The Lonely Pen bookstore. The eye-catching window was full of the latest bestsellers, along with an assortment of paper and planner supplies. She couldn’t wait to wander up and down the aisles.
The street jogged right around a large square containing a park, the courthouse, fire, and police departments. There was the lawyer’s office, right next to the courthouse. The buildings were made of light-colored stone with ornate columns, reminding her of the buildings in Washington, DC.
The week before she left Miami, Tara called the law office listed on the paperwork for the cottage. The man who answered had taken over the firm from his grandfather. He needed a bit of time to look over the paperwork and familiarize himself with the details, but assured her he’d make sure the power was on by the time she arrived.
Not sure what she’d done with the keys after all this time, the lawyer said not to worry, he’d have another set made. When she got on the road this morning, she’d called to let his office know she’d be arriving around lunch time.
Her stomach growled as she pulled into one of the visitor spots in front of the law office. There were barrels out front overflowing with flowers and what looked like kale, swiss chard, and other dark leafy greens.
The old wood floors creaked underfoot as she walked throu
gh the front door into the office. While she waited for the lawyer, she looked around at the old wood furniture and muted colors. The office looked like it hadn’t changed in fifty years. As she was people watching through the plate-glass window, Tara jumped.
“Was that a goat? Wearing a tutu?”
She peered out the window again in time to see the goat stop at one planter to eat what she now knew was kale.
A low chuckle made her jump.
“I see you’ve met Bertha.”
The man was dressed in casual slacks and a knit shirt. He was tall with kind eyes.
“Bertha?”
“The goat. She belongs to Mary over at Spilled Milk. It’s the local grocery store.”
He held out a hand.
“Jameson Harris. We spoke on the phone.”
“Tara Bedford. How did you know it was me?”
She shook his hand; the tension draining out of her as his calm demeanor put her at ease.
“I know everyone else coming in today.”
She looked out the window one last time to see Bertha ambling over to the park.
“Right. Small towns.”
“Welcome to Blueberry Hill. Can I get you something to drink?”
She followed him down a carpeted hallway to his office.
“The drugstore has an old soda fountain and grill. They make the best orangeade and limeade around.”
“I’d love a limeade.” She vaguely remembered the icy cold drinks from when she visited her aunt.
“Please have a seat.”
He led her to one of the chintz-covered chairs instead of the chair in front of his desk.
“I’ll let Sue know. Be right back.”
He left, giving her time to get settled. She took the manila folder containing her notes out of the bag.
When he returned, Jameson sat in the chair across from her. There was a file folder on the wood coffee table.
“Let’s see.”
He picked up the folder, flipping through it.
“The power is on, and here we go.”
He handed her a set of keys.
“You said you didn’t want the place cleaned before you arrived, but I have to say, it’s probably covered in a foot of dust by now.”
Tara dropped the keys in her bag.
“Cleaning the cottage will give me something to do after driving for what felt like forever, but was actually only four days.”
He told her about his grandfather, how he’d been the lawyer for her aunt for years and years. Talked about how he’d gone to law school, then came straight back to work with his grandfather, couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
In turn, Tara told him she was from Miami, had three kids, and was looking forward to a change of scenery.
“Here you go. Two limeades.”
Sue brought the cups in, handing one to Tara, then to Jameson.
“Do you need anything else?”
“That will be all.” Jameson took a long drink. “You can leave the door open.”
Tara sipped the tart drink. “That hits the spot.”
“Best limeade in town.”
They talked for a while longer, Jameson told her there was a doctor in town who made house calls, and was affiliated with the hospital in Boone. There was a dentist and an eye doctor, both on Rabbit Hill Road, the cross street she’d noticed at the stoplight.
“Most of the old cottages on the lake sold years ago, torn down to make way for huge vacation homes. Some owners like to come and watch the leaves change color in the fall. They usually spend a few weeks during summer on vacation. Other owners built large homes to use as rental properties. Your cottage is in a prime location. You can see the waterfall across the lake.”
Tara looked down at her notes.
“You said it was on eight acres?”
He nodded.
“Your aunt bought the empty lots on either side of her a long time ago. You could sell the lots or keep them as is.”
“If you would have talked about selling yesterday, I think I would have jumped at the chance.”
Tara looked out the window at the mountains in the distance.
“But now?” He finished his limeade, tossing the empty cup into the trash.
She turned back to face him.
“I’m not saying I won’t want to sell later. But for now, I’d like to get a feel for the place.”
Jameson leaned back in the chair.
“The cottage has good bones, and the view will make you forget time, it’s so peaceful on the lake.”
He grinned.
“I have a feeling you’re going to like it here in our little town.”
Tara hoped he was right. Ally would have a great time wandering in and out of the shops. Once she’d cleaned the cottage, and had settled in for a week or two, Tara would invite all the kids for Memorial weekend.
Jameson stood.
“Tell Mary over at Spilled Milk I sent you. She’ll give you a few essentials on the house. Think of it as a welcome to town thing.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll try that cafe, Lettuce Eat, that you recommended, then pick up a few groceries.”
Tara put the papers in her bag.
“Today is Tuesday, so the special is spinach salad with bacon, and strawberry cheesecake for dessert. I recommend both.”
He walked her down the hall to the door.
“Thank you for everything.”
Jameson nodded. “If you need anything, call me or ask anyone in town.”
She walked to the cute cafe with the lettuce theme. There were paper placemats with facts about lettuce printed on them, and framed watercolors of various types of lettuce on the walls. Since it was a pretty day, Tara sat outside in the sun. The goat was nowhere to be seen.
The food was delicious. She took a copy of the menu with the weekly specials listed so she’d know what days to come back. The server told her the specials changed with the seasons.
It was a short drive to Spilled Milk. There was a hardware store next door that seemed to carry a bit of everything.
When she went into the grocery store, Tara was pleasantly surprised at the selection.
A woman called out from somewhere deep in the store.
“I’m in the back, just call out if you need anything.”
There was plenty of natural light coming from the plate-glass window. They painted the name of the store on the glass in blue. There was a carton of milk on its side next to the name, the puddle of spilled milk dripping down the glass.
There were small carts in blue that matched the lettering of the store name all lined up at the front door. Tara leisurely walked up and down the aisles, deciding she’d pick up enough groceries to last a week so she could focus on cleaning the cottage from top to bottom.
“Looks like you’re planning an epic cleaning spree.”
A woman with bright red hair stood in the aisle.
“I’m Mary, I own the place. Your shorts are really cute.”
“Thanks, I made them.”
Tara put an enormous bottle of soap scum cleaner in the cart. The cart had two baskets, so she put groceries in the top of the cart and cleaning supplies in the bottom.
“I saw your goat in the park.”
Mary laughed. “Bertha likes to wander around Main Street, but she doesn’t go too far. Thinks she’s a dog.”
She grinned. “She’ll come when you call her.”
“The tutu made me laugh.”
All Tara had left on her list were vegetables and the purple cleaner she liked.
“It was Bertha’s idea. She pulled the tutu out of a box of stuff I was donating. Now she wears it almost every day.”
Mary walked with her to the produce display.
When Tara had picked out everything she wanted, she turned to Mary.
“I saw you had the blue Fabuloso cleaner. Do you have the purple?”
“I’m out. The lavender is the best scent.” Mary looked up from ringing up Tara’s groceries.
“Milt should have it. He owns the hardware store next door.”
“Thanks. I love that stuff. The house smells so good for several days afterwards.”
“It does. I should order more and skip the blue. The blue one smells synthetic and doesn’t last as long.”
While she finished bagging the groceries, Tara told her she was new to town.
“I heard Frida’s niece was coming back.”
Mary put the last bag in the cart.
“The fruit and vegetables are on me. A welcome to town gift. If you need anything else, let me know.”
Tara loaded up the SUV before going into the hardware store. It was an old-fashioned store with glass bottles of soda on ice near the register. They sold a mix of items, even bait and tackle. Not that she’d planned on going fishing anytime soon. Worms or cute little bait fish on hooks? No way.
To be on the safe side, Tara bought all four bottles of the purple cleaner. From the way Mary and Milt reacted, Tara was a little worried at what she might find at the cottage.
Living in a small town had its advantages. Her electricity was on as promised. The cable and internet too, and she didn’t have to make a single call. Jameson assured her not to worry, she’d get a bill in the mail. They’d simply transferred Frida’s accounts to her as the old accounts were still in the system.
The cottage was on a well, so Tara wouldn’t have to worry about a water bill. That was a pleasant change from Miami.
The cottage was grandfathered in, allowed to use the water from the lake for her property, while the new homes were on a community well, and not allowed to use the lake water to water their plants or grass.
The lawyer explained Frida left behind a small trust along with the cottage. It was enough for someone to cut the grass and shovel the snow. Since they shut the house up, no one had been in to clean.
At least Jameson had sent someone to check out the plumbing and electrical, make sure it was all functioning, and to check the roof and heating system.
Windows rolled down as she drove, Tara smelled the trees and water before she saw the lake. As she drove closer, she caught glimpses of sunlight sparkling on dark water.
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