The Second Chance

by Ann Maree Craven

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  The Island Sanctuary

  About Ann Maree

  About Michelle

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Michelle MacQueen and Ann Maree Craven

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America

  * * *

  Editing by Caitlin Haines

  Cover by Melissa A Craven at Bookly Style

  Chapter One

  For the second time in my life, I was leaving behind a place I loved. Boston had been my home for eight long years, and I thought I’d live there for many more. The culture, the nightlife, even the smell of the city was imprinted on me.

  And also ruined for me.

  I wiped away tears that refused to quit falling and gripped my steering wheel tighter. Harper Chapman was nothing but a joke in Boston now. The girl who’d gotten in over her head, trusted the wrong man, and had everything swept out from under her feet. That was me. The reporter no one took seriously anymore.

  All because of him.

  And the worst part was I’d loved him. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise.

  Now, everything I owned was stuffed into my little Honda, a car neither my ex-husband nor my parents approved of. Well, none of them had a say now, did they?

  I could still hear my mother’s voice in my head when I told her about Garret’s affair. “Well, men will be men, honey. Learn to look the other way.”

  Divorce was a dirty word in my family’s elite Boston circle. Infidelity was a habit. Men had needs, as my mother put it. So do I, Mom. I needed something different from the life they’d pushed me into.

  I loved my job, adored it, really. I’d spent my entire life wanting to be a reporter. My father’s connections got me my first job after college, and everyone knew it, but I was still good at it.

  Until they hired him.

  The moment one of Boston’s most famous reporters came to manage the Boston Globe, I’d felt incompetent in his presence. Twenty years my senior, he was distinguished, dignified. And I fell head over heels for him.

  The sound of my phone ringing snapped me from my daze. Keeping my eyes on the road, I tapped the screen on my stereo without looking at the name. “Harper Chapman here.”

  “You’ve already changed your name back?” Garret said, his voice sliding over me with warmth, the way it always had. I shook off the feeling.

  “Seemed appropriate.” My hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly.

  His sigh came through the speaker. “I wish you’d rethink your resignation.”

  We already had this discussion before I left. “I’m sorry if I no longer take your wishes into account.”

  “Harper.” His tone when he said my name was condescending, exasperated. “Don’t be like this.”

  “Like what, Garret? Like the scorned wife who found you in your office kissing another woman? Don’t be like that?”

  “I thought we talked about this.”

  “We did. And I decided it was best to remove myself from the situation until I could sit in the same office with my boss without wanting to punch him in the face.”

  The jerk chuckled. “I always liked that fire in you.”

  I knew he did. He said it was what drew him to me in the beginning. But those memories needed to be locked away. “I’m not coming back to work.”

  That was what he really wanted. I doubt he was broken up about the divorce, but I was the paper’s top human-interest reporter, garnering the most online reads for six months running, even with the awful stories he assigned me.

  He needed me.

  Too bad I no longer cared.

  “At least tell me where you are.”

  Superiore Bay came into view, its familiar downtown shops bringing me back to a million years ago. “Goodbye, Garret.” I hung up before he could say anything else.

  Driving into this town was like traveling back in time to when everything was simple, everything was easy. To when I spent summers with the one family member who’d ever understood me, who’d ever cared to try.

  And the two best friends I’d ever had.

  Over the years, I tried to forget those summers. I got busy with college and internships and then my career. My grandmother visited Boston for Christmases, but I didn’t visit her like I used to. Now that I was coming back, I knew it would mean seeing other people who were best left in the past.

  It was early afternoon as I drove along the boulevard, passing restaurants that held my memories. The Rusty Spoon was packed with the late lunch crowd. Hugga Mugga, the coffee shop I loved to people watch in, was as busy as ever.

  Townspeople walked across the square, stopping to chat, waving to each other. It was so very different from the city. I’d almost forgotten how much.

  I pulled up outside a light blue, two-story home with a wrap-around front porch. Tears burned my eyes, but this time, they weren’t for everything I’d left behind.

  No house had ever felt like home except the one before me now. This was where I spent hours with my best friend, Lena, lying on the perfectly manicured front lawn, staring up into blue skies.

  I hesitated before stepping out of my car. My fingertips drifted along the white wooden fence with chipped paint, and I pictured Carter Ashford painting it one summer, sweat dripping down his bare chest. I’d thought he was the most beautiful boy in the world.

  I’d thought I loved him.

  Me, him, and Lena were a unit. For three months every year, they let me into their friendship. And then, I left them behind. I chose a life that didn’t include them.

  The front door opened, and all the breath rushed out of me at the sight of my grandma coming down the steps. She swept me into her arms and squeezed. “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”

  I hugged her back, finally letting myself relax. “Everything was packed, so there was no reason to wait.”

  She leaned back, keeping her hands on my shoulders. “Let me look at you.” A smile curved her lips. “You look liberated.”

  Leave it to Grandma. I knew how I must really look. Tear-stained cheeks, red eyes. I looked sad. And tired. But she wouldn’t see that, not her.

  “Come inside out of this heat. We’ll get your things later.” In Boston, I’d never have left anything in my car, but here in Superiore Bay, I knew it was safe.

  I was safe. It was an odd feeling.

  Walking into the house was like peeking into a time capsule. Nothing had changed. The hallways were lined with the same floral wallpaper. The wooden shoe rack where I left my sandals hadn’t moved an inch.

  And the smell. “D
id you make banana bread?”

  Grandma smiled. “I was preparing for you to get here. There are a few more things I need to make. We’ll also need to get fresh sheets on your bed, and I did a load of towels I bought for your bathroom, so they’ll need folded.”

  I couldn’t help wrapping her in a side hug. “Thank you.”

  It was the first time in so long anyone acted like they wanted me around, and I needed it. I needed the comfort this town, and this home, had always given me.

  Grandma patted my arm. “Did Boston make you soft, girl? The Harper I know is all sass.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not soft, just … being here … it’s bringing back memories, making me sentimental.”

  We walked into the airy kitchen I’d always loved so much. Some of my best memories were of sitting on a stool, helping Grandma make her famous meatballs. Wide windows behind the sink let light fall over the dark wooden floors and black granite countertops.

  Two loaves of banana bread sat cooling on a rack.

  An archway led to the living room, where sadness crept in. That had been my grandpa’s zone. He used to sit in his recliner, reading all day, and Grandma let him. But he’d always had time for me.

  “You got rid of the recliner.” And the couch was new. It was the first change I detected.

  Grandma stepped up beside me. “It was time.”

  Grandpa died over five years ago. At the time, I was overseas on the biggest assignment of my career and hadn’t made it back for the funeral.

  I looped my arm through hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  She smiled sadly. “He would have wanted you to keep pursuing your dreams instead of sitting there mourning him.” Her hand patted mine, and she stepped away.

  “Now, I know you want to get settled in. You didn’t tell me how long you’re staying, but you’re welcome for as long as you’d like.”

  “Thanks, it’ll just be until I figure out where to go next.”

  She pursed her lips. “Okay, well, I’m assuming Carter will be over soon since you’re back. We can make him unpack your car.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. Carter didn’t know I was coming. I’d have to face him at some point, I knew that, but I just didn’t want it to be while my heart was shattered into a million pieces.

  I needed to get myself together first.

  We never forgot our first loves, even if they didn’t last. But Carter was more than that. He represented the best part of my life, the break I’d gotten each summer from my parents’ expectations, the rules of their world.

  Running a hand over my shoulder-length brown hair, I tried to think of a way to explain it to my grandma. Instead, I turned away from her. “It’s okay. I can unpack myself.”

  When I stepped out onto the front porch, the summer heat hit me, but it wasn’t stifling like it was in the city. A cool breeze filtered through the air, lifting the hair off the back of my neck.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in Superiore Bay. This place wasn’t perfect. It was everything one could expect of a small coastal Maine town. There were no secrets here, no where to hide. And yet, there also wasn’t a need to.

  Even if it wasn’t perfect, it was home.

  Chapter Two

  Why can’t you be more like your brother?

  I’d heard those words so many times they were permanently etched in my brain. I had my answers too, but none I could speak out loud.

  Because I didn’t have a permanent stick up my rear.

  Because I didn’t want wine to be my life.

  Because I didn’t know who I was.

  That last one was my greatest secret. I knew what the town thought of me. The rebel Ashford. Carter was trouble, he didn’t care about anything.

  Maybe I was. Maybe I didn’t.

  I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that I wanted the chance to figure out what I was truly meant to do in this life. Both my brothers had figured it out. Conrad was a vet, running the Corolla horse sanctuary. And Conner only ever wanted to make wine.

  Like our father. The man standing in front of me with blazing anger in his eyes.

  I shrugged nonchalantly, like I always did, showing him his ire didn’t bother me. It was my go-to defense mechanism.

  His jaw tightened. “Carter, I’m tired of you being a stain on the family name.”

  “I could change my name if that would make you feel better.”

  “Careful, kid,” my grandfather warned. He wouldn’t stand up to my dad, but he wanted to, and that counted for something.

  I straightened to my full height, which happened to be a few inches taller than the man some of our employees had nicknamed “The Ashford,” as if saying his first name was some kind of curse.

  The man was intimidating to most people, but I saw him for what he was. A man with a deep need to control everyone and everything around him. It was sad, really, how unhappy he was.

  At this point, I hardly remembered what we were arguing about. Probably what a disappointment I was.

  Oh, and I may have lost us a big distribution client.

  Oops.

  But seriously, it was my dad’s fault for sending me to the meeting when I had no sales skills to speak of. One day, he’d learn to stop forcing me into the business.

  “They’ll come back once you smooth things over.” I crossed my arms.

  Dad’s eyes narrowed. “You flirted with the man’s wife.”

  My cheeks reddened. Okay, it hadn’t been my lack of skills that lost the client, more like the fact I had too many skills. “In my defense, I thought she was his daughter. She’s like thirty years younger than him.”

  Dad’s face turned so red I worried he’d explode and make a mess all over the books he never read in his study.

  “This would have never happened if I’d sent Conner.”

  My chest ached with the reminder of how I couldn’t possibly measure up to my father’s expectations. I hated myself for letting his words affect me. “Yes, the Conner that has fallen for the one girl you forbid him to see.”

  I instantly regretted my words. Conner’s girlfriend, Lena Contreras, was my best friend. What bothered me was how I’d had to hide my friendship with her for years, but Conner’s relationship with her was just accepted now as inevitable.

  Figured.

  Dad took a step toward me, his dark eyes peering into mine. “You are an Ashford, Carter. That comes with expectations. I will decide what to do with you, but right now, get out of my house.”

  I stared at him for a moment, trying to see how serious he was. I knew it was a bit pathetic that I still lived in my father’s house in my twenties, but that was what our family did. It wasn’t only his; it had been in our family for generations.

  Plus, there was enough room so we never had to run into each other.

  Except right now, he wanted me out.

  “Fine.”

  I passed my grandfather as he tried to say something, not letting him get it out. Digging in my pocket, I retrieved my keys and rushed down the stairs to the grand foyer. I pushed out the front door, thundering down the drive to my Ferrari, a shining beacon waiting to take me to safety. She was a beauty.

  I barely breathed until I was resting against the leather seats. Dark auburn curls fell in my eyes, and I blew them away as I started the engine, sighing at the familiar roar.

  I spent my life avoiding my father for this very reason. He had the ability to rattle me like no one else. And there was only one person who could calm me down once I was rattled.

  Peeling out of the drive and through the gates, I headed across the Superiore Bay Bridge toward Orchard Hill Farms. The extensive apple orchard stretched into the distance, a beauty so different from our vineyards and also the same. They both held the same kind of peace.

  Only months ago, I couldn’t drive right up to Lena’s place. We had to meet in secret, where neither her parents nor mine could find us. We still had our spot near the boardwalk where we shared s
ome of the best moments I’d had in years.

  Now, our families grudgingly accepted that our generation was not going to continue the ages old family feud between the Contreras’ and the Ashfords’.

  I jumped out of my car when I got there and knocked on the bunkhouse door before yanking it open. “Lena?” I stepped inside and froze.

  Lena and Conner were on the couch together, asleep. I stared at them for a long moment, wondering if things would ever be the same now that she was with my perfect older brother—both in their personal lives and in business.

  The two of them had been working nonstop lately, and I knew they were exhausted, so I didn’t have the heart to wake them. They deserved their calm, even if my turmoil never stopped.

  Heading back out to my car, I waved to Lena’s brother Enzo, who was just coming in from the orchard. I turned back toward the dusty roads that would take me out of town.

  Part of me wanted to keep driving and never look back. To shed the yoke of the Ashford name and make a new life for myself. One where I could succeed on my own merits, find something I was good at.

  But I’d never had the courage to take a step like that.

  Sometimes, when life weighed me down, I drove up the coast, letting the ocean ease my nerves. But a drive wasn’t going to help me today, not when I felt so sorry for myself.

  I turned back and headed toward the main square, where my favorite food truck would sate me with cheese.

  I parked and walked up to the Cheddar Chariot, thankful there wasn’t a line. Mallory’s bright smile greeted me.

  “Carter, what can I get for you?”

  Mallory was a genius with grilled cheese, and I’d learned they could cure anything. “Got a special today?”