by Deanna Chase
“That’s not true. What about that night we went to dinner and then the jazz club on Frenchmen Street? Plus, you hung out with me at the Art Market and helped me package a bunch of soap I’d finished.”
“Fine, I saw you, but we certainly didn’t get any time to catch up. Do you recall one conversation that didn’t revolve around work or how to save Logan’s art gallery?”
Abby winced, recalling how crazed she’d been, trying to keep everything together. “I’m sorry, Faith. You’re right. I guess I was pretty selfish, wasn’t I?”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all,” her sister said, shaking her head. “You had stuff to deal with. We all do. I just meant we didn’t really get the quality time I’d hoped for. Please tell me you’re home for more than just a few days.”
A ball of unease formed in the pit of Abigail’s stomach as she nodded, confirming her intention to stay in town. Goddess, why was that so hard? She loved her family. Loved the town. She just couldn’t escape the crushing regret and the reasons she’d left in the first place. “I’ll be here. Just need to find a place to rent so I can fill my soap orders.”
Faith gave her an impatient look. “You know you can make your soaps here in your studio, Abs. Dad won’t let anyone else in there. Says it’s your domain.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Abby said stubbornly. “You know I can’t work in there. I’ll find somewhere else. Surely someone can spare some space. All I need is running water and power. I can work out everything else.”
“Whatever.” Faith shook her head, her expression more sad than annoyed. “Just as long as you don’t skip town while we still need you here.”
“Now you sound like Yvette.”
“Good,” Yvette said from behind them. “Maybe someone else can get through to her. Goddess knows my methods aren’t working.”
Abby and Faith both turned to find the oldest of the Townsend sisters leaning against the doorframe between the living room and the sun porch. Her hair was pulled back into a neat pony tail, her makeup flawless, and except for her soot-smudged jeans, no one would’ve ever guessed she’d just spent the last few hours dealing with a forest fire.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Yvette,” Abby said and moved in to give her sister a quick hug. But Yvette wrapped her arms around her and held on, holding her in place for a long moment. When she finally let go and Abby pulled away, Yvette’s eyes were damp as she blinked away her tears.
Abby’s world suddenly came crashing down around her, and she couldn’t stop her own tears as they fell unchecked down her cheeks.
Yvette grabbed Abby and Faith’s hands and squeezed. “I’m so glad you’re here, Abs.”
“Me, too,” Faith said, grabbing Abby’s free hand. The three of them stood together in a small circle, no one speaking as they fought the well of emotion threatening to undo them all.
Finally Abby pulled free, and in a shaky tone she asked, “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s in the orchard with Isaac, inspecting the trees for fungus,” Yvette said. “They should be in soon.”
“How is Isaac?” Abby asked, referring to her sister’s husband of twelve years. They’d married when Yvette was just twenty-one and to hear Yvette tell it, he was the perfect husband. He helped Dad with the farm, cleaned house, walked the dog, did the accounting for Yvette’s book store, and managed his own online magical gaming business without complaint. They were the all-American couple. All that was missing were the two point three kids.
“Good,” she said, but Abby didn’t miss the way she glanced away or the tightening of her tone as she spoke. “Same.” Then Yvette glanced up and peered at Abby. “What about you? How’s Logan?”
Abby sighed. “Fine, I guess.”
“Fine, you guess?” Yvette said with a sad chuckle. “That’s reassuring.”
“He’s been weird ever since the gallery closed. We’re on a break.” Abby plunked at the hem of her shirt. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“How about we head to the kitchen,” Faith said, tugging their hands. “We can make hot cocoa and talk about Clay instead.”
“Right,” Yvette said with a smirk. “But if we’re gonna talk about Clay, Abby might need something a little stronger.”
“The only thing we need to talk about is why no one told me he’s now the master brewer at the brewery,” Abby said as she climbed up on one of the barstools.
Both of her sisters turned and stared at her.
“What?”
“Dad didn’t tell you?” Yvette asked.
Abby placed both hands on the polished wood counter. “Nope. Wanda did. She was kind enough to give me a ride after I rear-ended some poor girl driving a Mini Cooper.”
“You got into an accident? Today?” Faith gasped out. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Abby waved a dismissive hand. “My car, on the other hand, isn’t. I’m going to need to get it towed to the shop sooner rather than later. It’s parked on Main Street with its front end all smashed in.”
“I bet Clay takes care of it after he unloads your stuff,” Yvette said.
Abby turned to stare at her older sister. “Clay is going to unload my stuff?”
“Sure.” Yvette climbed onto one of the kitchen counter stools. “He said he needed to come by the house to give Dad something tonight, so he offered to haul your stuff over while he was at it. I would’ve done it after I talked to you, but there was no way all that stuff was going to fit into my tiny car.”
Abby groaned. The last thing she wanted was for her ex-boyfriend to be handling all her stuff. What if he…? Oh, goddess. She closed her eyes and shook her head as she remembered the canvas bag she’d stuffed full of her lacy bras and panties. The bag didn’t even have a zipper. Without a doubt, he was once again going to get a peek at her unmentionables.
Yvette snickered. “So… I’m guessing the reunion was interesting. Tell us everything.”
“Yeah. What’d he say?” Faith leaned in, placing her forearms on the counter.
“Uh… nothing.” Heat burned Abigail’s face as she recalled the sparks that had crackled between them.
“Riiiight.” Yvette twisted her long sun-kissed chestnut locks up into a knot on the top of her head and slipped off the stool. She crossed the large kitchen, reached into the stainless steel double-wide refrigerator, then pulled out a bottle of Irish cream, and held it up. “Looks like we’re going to need to prime the pump if we want any dirt, Faith.”
“I’m on it.” Faith grabbed the bottle and started rummaging around in the cabinet. Yvette moved in to help and in no time, there was a mug of Irish cream-spiked hot cocoa topped with whipped cream sitting in front of Abigail.
Faith raised her mug and said, “Drink up.”
Yvette followed suit, and Abigail lifted her mug, clinking it with her sisters’. After taking a long sip, her eyes widened. “Mother earth. Is this made with melted chocolate? It’s delicious.”
Faith nodded. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“I bet,” Abigail said as the room spun slightly. She set the mug down on the counter, wondering if a one bottle of beer and a quarter cup of Irish cocoa could really make her head spin. She got to her feet and had to hold onto the counter to steady herself. “What did you do to that drink?”
Faith frowned. “Nothing special.” She took a small sip of her own drink. “It’s not even that strong.”
“When’s the last time you ate anything?” Yvette studied her sister then slapped her hand over her mouth as she let out a little gasp. “You’re not pregnant are you?”
“What? No,” Abby said, annoyed.
“Are you sure? You look really pale all of a sudden. Are you going to pass out?” Yvette wrapped an arm around Abby’s waist. “Lean on me.”
“I’m fine. Really. I just need something to eat.” Abby stepped away from her sister and grabbed a cookie from the nearby cookie jar. She bit into the buttery shortbread and moaned. “Oh, man al
ive, who made these?”
“Noel,” Faith said. “She keeps Dad stocked.”
Abigail swallowed her mouthful of cookie. “Where is Noel? Is she coming by?”
Yvette and Faith shared a glance, and then both of them shrugged. “Not sure,” Faith said. “She was… noncommittal.”
Of course, Abby thought. Her relationship with Noel had started to deteriorate the day Abby had left town ten years ago. Time had only made it worse. Abby tried—goddess knew, she’d tried. The first couple of years, Abby had texted, called, emailed, sent birthday cards, and had even purchased a ticket to come home to be present for the birth of her only niece, but Noel simply wouldn’t respond. She’d frozen Abigail out of her life and told her in no uncertain terms to back off.
Abby had finally taken the hint. She no longer called or texted Noel, but she did Facetime and send regular cards and birthday gifts to Daisy, Noel’s six-year-old. “I expected as much,” Abby said and sat back down on the stool.
No one said anything for a moment, but then Faith jumped to her feet and moved to the fridge. “You need something more than a cookie.”
“Is there pie?” Abby asked.
“Of course there is,” Faith scoffed.
“It wouldn’t be the Townsend household if there wasn’t pie,” Yvette chimed in.
“Blackberry or Apple?” Faith asked.
“Both,” Yvette and Abby said at the same time and then laughed.
“Both it is.” Faith pulled out the pie tins and homemade whipped cream, while Yvette made a fresh pot of coffee.
The three sisters were just about done eating when they heard the front door open again. Abby put her fork down and slipped off her stool, expecting to finally see her father. But instead, the sound of young feet echoed through the house, and a second later, a small dark-haired girl ran into the kitchen calling, “Aunt Abby!”
Abby grinned and squatted down, her arms held out wide. The little girl flung herself into Abby’s arms and as Abby hugged her tightly, her heart swelled with so much love she thought the organ might burst. “It’s so good to see you, little girl,” Abby whispered.
Daisy squirmed out of her aunt’s arms. “I’m not little anymore, Auntie. Mommy said I grew two inches and I’m a big girl now.”
“Two inches? Wow. I’m impressed.” Abby leaned in and gave her a loud kiss on her cheek. “I guess your mommy’s right.” Abby glanced up and spotted Noel standing in the kitchen threshold, her arms crossed over her chest. She’d dyed her hair bright red and cut it into an asymmetrical bob. Sleek and gorgeous, Abby thought as she smiled at her sister, but Noel just stared at her then turned and walked back into the living room.
Ouch.
It appeared some wounds never healed. At least Noel hadn’t tried to keep Daisy from knowing or loving her aunt. Not that Abby had expected her to. That wasn’t Noel’s style. The woman was stubborn, but not cruel.
“She’ll come around,” Faith said.
“I doubt it.” Yvette shoved the last of her pie in her mouth then washed it down with a gulp of coffee. Holding her hand out to Daisy, she said, “Come on, sweetie. Grandpa has a surprise for you.”
Daisy slipped her small hand into Yvette’s, and the pair of them disappeared outside.
Another set of footsteps caught Abigail’s attention, and she glanced up to find a radiant woman with dark skin and a warm smile.
“Abby!” Hanna beamed and wrapped her arms around Abigail, giving her a hug. She held on tightly and said, “It’s so good to see you.”
“You, too,” Abigail forced out around the lump in her throat. Hanna was Abigail’s best friend’s little sister and a near clone of Charlotte, too. Hanna was a smidge taller than Charlotte had been, and her eyes were slightly more wideset, but when Charlotte had still been alive, most people had mistaken them for twins.
Abigail stepped back and took a good look at Hanna. She wore a long knit sweater over a flowy peasant blouse, skinny jeans, and chic, steel blue, knee-high boots. The young woman looked like she’d just stepped off the pages of magazine. “You look gorgeous.”
“Me?” Hanna waved a dismissive hand. “This is all Noel’s handiwork. We just got done finishing a photoshoot. If you’d caught me on any other day, you’d have found my hair in a bun and me wearing ripped jeans and a sweatshirt.”
“That’s the Hanna I remember.” Abby gave her a wistful smile then studied her spiked cocoa as memories of Charlotte started to flicker through her mind.
“Hey.” Hanna reached out and grabbed Abby’s hand.
Abby stared down at the connection, her heart aching for Charlotte and her own failure to save the life of the girl who’d been the best friend she’d ever had.
Hanna squeezed Abby’s hand and said, “My parents would really love to see you while you’re home.”
Abby’s head snapped up, panic clawing at her chest. She stiffened and forced herself to breathe. After a moment, she gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be home, but I’ll try.”
“They miss you, you know.”
Tears burned the backs of Abigail’s eyes again, and she turned away, blinking rapidly to get herself under control. “I miss them, too, Hanna. I’ll try. I promise.”
Hanna let out a quiet sigh, and Abby winced. She’d promised Hanna she’d go see the Pelshes before, but she’d never followed through. And she knew in her heart she wouldn’t this time either.
Shame washed over her and she turned to apologize, but Hanna had disappeared, somehow managing to silently slip from the kitchen to somewhere else in the rambling house.
Chapter 6
Clay steered his six-year-old Jeep down the mile-long, tree-lined drive that led to the Townsend family home. It was the same as it always was; the trees perfectly manicured, the road well maintained, and twinkle lights wrapped around the periodic gas-lit lamp poles.
Nostalgia washed over him, and a deep ache settled in his bones as his thoughts turned to Abby, the girl he’d loved with everything he had all through high school. The one he’d thought he was going to marry and would be the mother of his children someday. The ache intensified and nearly took his breath away.
“Stupid,” he muttered and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He’d been so naïve back then, believing that love would conquer all and that nothing could tear them apart. Now he knew better, knew that romanticizing what might have been was a complete waste of time. Abby had made her choices and so had he. Now they barely knew one another.
Well, he knew one thing; she still wore those sexy lace bras that had driven him out of his mind at the tender age of eighteen. What he wouldn’t do to see her in one of those now. Picturing her creamy, full breasts popping out over the lace was enough to drive him to madness.
“Hell,” he said as he lowered his window, letting the coastal air cool down his heated skin. “Get a grip, Clay.” Whatever he’d had with Abby was long gone, and reminiscing about their youth wasn’t going to solve any of his problems. Besides, even if there was something there, he was certain she’d never stay in Keating Hollow. And that was a deal breaker. He wouldn’t put himself through that again, not when he had Olive to consider. He couldn’t get involved with anyone who wouldn’t be a stable force in his daughter’s life.
No. No matter how much he wanted Abby, even after all these years, she was strictly off-limits.
Too bad he’d already gone out of his way to make sure he saw her again today.
The house came into view, and he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or relieved to see the line of cars parked in the drive. No doubt the entire family was already there. At least they’d act as a buffer if he let his libido get out of control. Who could blame him after he’d accidentally spotted that rich purple thong in her open bag?
The front door swung open just as he put his Jeep into park, and Faith stepped out onto the front porch. The sun glinted off her golden hair, casting a halo glow around her.
Fitting, Clay thought. Of the
four sisters, Faith was the sweetest. Thoughtful and soft spoken, she was the one who was always there for anyone who needed someone to talk to. Hell, she’d been there for him on more than one occasion after Abby had left and again when he’d returned home after his marriage imploded. He climbed out of his Jeep holding three growlers and made his way up the house.
“I hear you have some new samples for us,” Faith said.
“Right here. Caramel Chocolate Malt, Fall Spice, and Toffee Java.”
Faith rubbed her hands together. “Toffee Java! You took my suggestion.”
Clay gave her a sly smile. “Sure did. And just between us, it’s my new favorite. But don’t tell your pops. I want him to form his own opinions.”
She laughed. “Like Dad has ever let anyone sway his opinion when it comes to beer.”
Clay grinned. She had a point. Lin Townsend was a man of strong opinions when it came to his business, and especially his beer. But Clay had witnessed him form opinions based on what his daughters thought on more than one occasion, even if they didn’t realize it.
“Come on,” she said, taking the growlers. “Everyone’s inside.”
But Clay shook his head. “I can’t really stay. There’s somewhere I need to be in about a half hour,” he lied. “I’ll just unload Abby’s stuff so I can get back to town.”
“That’s too bad.” Faith frowned. “We were having spiked cocoa and pie.”
“Tempting, but I really can’t stay. Maybe next time.”
She eyed him, suspicion written all over her angelic face. She was on to him. She knew he was making up excuses just so he didn’t get sucked into the Townsend family reunion. What had he been thinking?
The door swung open, and Abby stepped out onto the porch, her cheeks slightly rosy and her eyes bright. There was a small smile claiming her lips, and she looked so lovely it was all he could do to stay rooted to his spot and not sweep her up in his arms and carry her off back to his place.
“Clay,” she said, glancing between him and his Jeep. “You really didn’t have to go to all the trouble of bringing me my stuff.