Silver River Secrets

by Linda Hope Lee

  LATER THAT EVENING, Lacey and Rory stopped by Gram’s apartment. Gram gave them each a hug. “I’m so happy for you both,” she said. “Lacey, you know I never thought your father was good enough for our Norella, but I need to tell you I’m glad he’s not a murderer. I’m glad you found out the truth.”

  “Thanks, Gram. Although I always believed in his innocence, I’m still getting used to it being a fact.”

  “Adjustment will take time, honey.” Gram turned to Rory. “And your father, bless his soul. I hope he rests in peace now that the truth is known.”

  “Thank you, Remy.”

  They all were silent a moment, and then Gram said, “But now you two can move on with your lives.”

  Rory grinned. “Yes, we can. But speaking of moving on, have you made a decision about the house?”

  Gram’s expression turned sober. “Yes, I think I have.”

  “Good. I have some plans to show you, as well. How about taking a ride out to the farm tomorrow and discussing everything then?”

  “I’ll be ready,” Gram said.

  *

  “HERE THEY ARE.” Rory nodded to the car coming down the road.

  Standing beside Rory in front of the Whitfield farmhouse, Lacey shaded her eyes against the sun. “Yes, that looks like Hal’s car.”

  “Hmm, a new Buick,” Rory commented. “Nice set of wheels.”

  Lacey laughed. “I think you’ll find he’s a nice guy, too.”

  The car pulled to a stop. While Lacey and Rory went to meet them, Hal popped from the driver’s side and hurried around to open the passenger door. He extended his hand, and Gram stepped out. Then he pulled out a cane and handed it to her. With one hand on Hal’s arm and the other on her cane, Gram came toward them.

  Lacey stared. “You’re walking!”

  A big grin lit Gram’s face. “Uh-huh. Told you I would. I’ve been practicing for a couple weeks now with my therapist, and today he gave me the okay to be on my own.”

  Lacey and Rory gave her a hug, and then Rory and Hal shook hands. “Good you could come,” Rory said.

  Hal nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about this place, but not being from around here, I hadn’t seen it.” He looked up at the house. “It’s due for a makeover, all right.”

  “You said you had some other ideas, Rory,” Gram said.

  “I do. I had an architect friend draw them up. Come take a look.” He waved them over to the ’57 Chevy where a large sheet of paper was spread across the trunk.

  When they were gathered around, Rory said, “First of all, Lacey and I want to buy the property. Then it will stay in the family.”

  “I was thinking to make it a wedding present,” Gram said.

  “Oh, no, Gram…” Lacey put her arm around Gram’s shoulders.

  Gram waved a hand. “We’ll argue that out later. I want to see what Rory’s got.”

  “Okay,” Rory said. “This building here—” he pointed to a spot on the drawing “—will be the Dalton Classic Car Museum.” He paused and looked at Gram.

  “What a great idea,” she said. “I remember you talked about having a museum for collectible cars when you were back in high school.”

  Rory nodded. “It’s long been a dream of mine.” He turned back to the drawing. “And all this area would be a park.”

  “A park?” Hal said. “Open to the public?”

  “Yes, the Whitfield-Morgan Memorial Park. It’ll include a picnic area and a playground for kids and gardens and whatever else a park should have.”

  “What do you think of that, Gram?” Lacey asked. Rory had of course shared the plans with her earlier, and she loved the idea of a park named after both her grandfather and her father.

  Gram pressed a hand to her cheek. “Why, I—I’m speechless.”

  “Oh, oh, I’ve never seen you speechless before,” Hal teased.

  “I don’t think I ever have been,” Gram said. “But the museum and the park would be a wonderful tribute to all our families.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Rory said, looking pleased.

  Hal surveyed the drawing. “That still leaves quite a bit of land.”

  Rory nodded. “Right. Not sure what we’ll do with the remaining acreage. I may want to move my shop here. Depends on what happens to the house.”

  They all turned to look at Gram.

  “Tell us what you’ve decided,” Lacey said.

  Gram gazed up at the house, took a deep breath, and said, “I want you to tear it down.”

  “Tear it down?” Lacey echoed. “Oh, Gram, are you sure?”

  Gram nodded. “It’s time. You and Rory are moving on. I need to move on, too.” She and Hal exchanged a meaningful look.

  Lacey struggled with a mixture of emotions. She gazed up at the house she’d lived in until the tragedy that had changed her life forever. Run-down and dilapidated and no longer fit for habitation, and yet, at the thought of the house being destroyed, her chest tightened and tears filled her eyes.

  Rory put his arm around her. “Will you be okay with your grandmother’s decision?”

  “Yes, eventually. In my heart, I know you made the right choice, Gram, but saying goodbye after all these years is hard.”

  “I know, I know…” Gram bit her lip and looked away.

  “Do you want to go inside one last time?” Lacey asked.

  “Oh, no. I’d rather remember it the way it was when we all lived there than be reminded of how it looks inside now.”

  No one said anything. The wind rustled the leaves of the willow trees and stirred the grass in the meadow. In the distance, two blackbirds swooped low over the river.

  The sound of an approaching car captured Lacey’s attention. She looked around to see a silver BMW rounding the bend in the road. “Who’s that?”

  “It’s A.J.” Rory propped his hands on his hips. “What’s he want? I don’t have anything to say to him.”

  “Now, Rory,” Gram warned. “He is your grandfather, after all.”

  The BMW pulled to a stop, and A.J. climbed out. “I was driving by and saw your car, Rory,” he said as he approached them. “Decided to stop. Hello, Lacey, Remy.” He nodded to the women and then studied Hal. “Don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Gram introduced the two men, and A.J. stepped forward to shake hands. Then he gestured toward the house. “What’s going on here?”

  “Remy’s selling the property to Lacey and me,” Rory said.

  A.J. raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? And what do you plan to do with it?”

  “My classic car museum will be built here. And a park.”

  “A park?”

  “Yes, with a playfield and gardens.”

  “What about the house?” A.J. gestured to the house.

  Gram spoke up. “It’ll be torn down.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” He shook his head. “Are those the plans?” He pointed to the architect’s drawing.

  “They are,” Rory said.

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  “Okay…sure, if you’re interested.”

  “I am.”

  Rory stepped aside to make room for his grandfather, and they bent their heads over the plans. When they finished, A.J. said, “Looks like you’re making good use of the land.”

  “We think so,” Rory said.

  A.J. turned to Lacey. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you at the city hall meeting the other day that I’m glad justice was served.”

  “Thank you,” Lacey said. “We are, too.”

  “We are,” Gram echoed.

  An awkward silence followed. Then A.J. looked at Rory. “When you get set up here, how about restoring the Dodge?”

  Rory grinned. “Are you serious?”<
br />
  “I am. It’s been sitting in my garage long enough. I wouldn’t mind taking a drive in it now and then.”

  “Well, sure, I’ll fix it up for you. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on that car for years.”

  “I know,” A.J. said in a dry tone. “Give me a call when you’re ready to take it on. And the door’s always open if you want to come back to work, too.”

  Rory sobered and shook his head. “Oh, no. Not a possibility.”

  A.J. spread his hands. “No pressure. I’m just saying.”

  Another awkward silence, and then A.J. said, “I’ll be on my way, then. Nice to see you walking, Remy. Nice meeting you, Hal. Good to see you, Lacey. And you, too…son.” His gaze lingered on Rory before he turned away and walked toward his car.

  Rory took a step after him and then stopped. He looked at the others.

  “Go.” Gram flapped a hand.

  Rory grinned and then took off after A.J. When he caught up, he slung his arm around the older man’s shoulders. “Thanks for stopping by…Granddad.”

  “You know me and property around this town,” A.J. said. “I gotta know what’s going on.”

  Soon after A.J. left, Gram and Hal said they must leave, too. “We have a Scrabble game this afternoon,” Gram said.

  “Can’t miss that,” Hal said. “We’re on the way to winning the tournament. And when we do, we’ll all go out on the town and celebrate.”

  “That’s something to look forward to.” Lacey kissed her grandmother’s cheek and gave Hal a hug.

  Rory and Hal shook hands. “Thanks for coming today,” Rory said.

  After they were gone, Rory rolled up the architectural plans and put them in the car’s trunk. “How about a walk down by the river?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Rory took her hand, and they walked along the driveway, past the barn and across the field to the river. A warm breeze swept down from the mountains, and the sun beamed over the valley. At the river, they stood on the bank watching the silver water flow peacefully, rippling here and there over rocks and fallen branches.

  “I love the river,” Lacey said. “Living here again will be wonderful.”

  “It will be for me, too, now that we’re together again. And to celebrate, I have something for you.” He pulled a small box from his jacket pocket and held it out.

  “What’s this?”

  “You’ll see. Go ahead, open it.”

  Lacey took the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a gold bracelet with amethyst stones. “Oh, Rory, it’s beautiful.” She ran her fingers over the shiny stones and the delicate filigree. “This matches Mother’s necklace. Where did you—”

  “I had a jeweler in Milton make it. Here, put it on.” He lifted the bracelet from the box.

  Lacey held out her arm. Rory wound the bracelet around her wrist and fastened the clasp. The gold felt cool against her skin.

  “We’re starting a new tradition,” he said, “Or, rather, adding to an already existing one. Now, you’ll have both the necklace and the bracelet to pass down to our daughter—or daughter-in-law, as the case may be.”

  The thought of having children together, to love and cherish, gave Lacey a warm feeling.

  “Thank you, dear Rory. I love your precious gift. And, I love you.”

  “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know, and for all time.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her.

  Lacey wrapped her arms around Rory and returned his kiss. Happiness and contentment filled her. The journey back home had been long and sometimes painful, but she was here at last, and here she would stay.

  *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CATCH A FALLEN STAR by Amy Vastine

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  Catch a Fallen Star

  by Amy Vastine

  CHAPTER ONE

  “WHAT IN THE name of all that is holy is this?” Boone Williams stood in front of the shiny silver Airstream trailer with his hands on his hips. He’d slept in a lot of strange places while touring the country, but this had to be a joke.

  “This is your new home away from home,” Dean said, flashing the used-car-salesman grin he thought worked on everyone.

  Dean Presley was the head of Boone’s record label, Grace Note Records, and the one who had convinced Boone to come down here to small-town Grass Lake. He had promised the perfect Tennessee retreat. A place with all the comforts of home and none of the stress. It was supposed to be top-notch, somewhere the rich and famous like Boone could reconnect with the music.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Boone grumbled. This was a trailer in the middle of a horse farm. The pungent smell of manure did battle with the overwhelming scent of hay that made his nose itch. This was no vacation home. This was a nightmare.

  “Don’t judge until you see the inside. It’s not the Four Seasons, but you’d be amazed at what we fit into this little space.”

  “I knew there wasn’t a Four Seasons in this Podunk town, but I’m sure there have to be accommodations a little more fitting for someone like me.”

  “Boone—”

  “I have twenty-five number-one singles, I’ve won three Grammys and ten Country Artist Awards, and I was named America’s favorite male country music artist at the People’s Choice Awards…four times. I’m pretty sure I deserve better than this.”

  Dean sighed, mimicking Boone’s stance. He closed his eyes for a moment and his smile faded. “I hate to remind you that you also haven’t had a record out in five years. Instead, you’ve had two DUIs and a few other run-ins with the law that you were fortunate to get out of because of who you are. The last time you attended the CAAs, you were asked not to return because you shoved an assistant producer backstage. And right now, the only thing you’d win if people voted would be favorite tabloid star. I’m pretty sure this place is exactly what you need.”

  Every dose of reality was like a hot poker in the gut. Dean was right, but that didn’t mean Boone wanted to hear it. Dean opened the door to the Airstream, and Boone stomped up the stairs and inside.

  It wasn’t the worst place he’d ever had to stay, but not at all what he had expected. He had grown accustomed to his life of luxury. The pillow with the words Welcome Home stitched across it mocked him from the beige couch in the front. A basket of cookies and a bottle of sparkling water sat on the little dinette in the kitchen area. In the back was
the bedroom, complete with a full-size bed and one tiny nightstand. Boone threw his suitcase on the bed.

  “Faith stocked the kitchen with some basics, but I can take you into town to pick up groceries or any incidentals you might have forgotten,” Dean offered. “I can also show you around the barn and introduce you to the horses whenever you’re ready. We can save the studio tour for tomorrow.”

  Studio tour? The studio was apparently also on this godforsaken farm. The likelihood that Boone would be impressed was low. Not that he had anything to record. The words still weren’t coming. The music had dried up when he’d dried out.

  “How many horses are there?”

  “We’ve got three right now.”

  “That’s not very many.”

  “We lost one back in May,” Dean explained. “Faith’s been taking her time looking for a new one. Therapy horses aren’t easy to come by. They’re special. Not every horse can work as one. Faith drove up to Nashville this morning to check out a filly a friend of hers has for sale. Maybe we’ll have four in a few short days.”

  Faith was Dean’s fiancée and the one who ran the farm where Boone was now trapped. It was supposedly a therapeutic horse farm called Helping Hooves. Boone wasn’t sure how horses could help someone like him. Of course, the humans who had tried hadn’t had much success, either.

  Maybe he was a hopeless case. The failure his father had always believed he would be.

  Suddenly the already tight quarters began to feel even more claustrophobic. The walls closed in, and Boone began to panic. Soon there wouldn’t be enough air for both of them.

  “Let’s go meet the horses,” he said, pushing past Dean to get to the door. At least he knew the animals wouldn’t ask him about his divorce or when his next album was coming out. They wouldn’t remind him of how far he had fallen.

  *

  THE AFTERNOON SUN shone bright in a cloudless sky as Dean led Boone to the stables. Boone rubbed the back of his neck, cursing himself for not grabbing a hat.

  A red sedan that hadn’t been there when Boone arrived was parked near the barn. An uneasy feeling came over him. He did not want to deal with the public just yet.

  “Just to be clear, I’m not signing any autographs or doing any meet and greets while I’m here.”

  Dean glanced over his shoulder with what strongly resembled a smirk. “We’re definitely on the same page about that. You aren’t exactly what I’d call fan-friendly at the moment.”