by Alexis Lynne
Newness and Wonder
Pamela Lynne
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Newness and Wonder
Copyright © 2018 by Alexis Lynne
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any format whatsoever.
Cover art and layout by JD Smith Designs
Editing by Jakki Leatherberry
Dedication
For Lance, Lawrence, Annabelle, Remy, Logan & still to be named #5.
Thank you for making every holiday perfect.
Chapter One
Tara Crowley stepped out of her front door and into the morning sunshine that was beginning to trail over her front deck. She smiled as she leaned over the railing and breathed deeply. It was early September, and though the leaves on the trees surrounding the cottage she shared with her sisters were still green, the air smelled of fall. For many, spring was the season of hope and renewal, but for Tara, it was the beautiful golds and reds of autumn that filled her with a sense of newness and wonder.
This smell in the air signaled the advent of the holidays—four months of busyness and joy that would bring Sylvan Hills much needed tourist dollars as well as a sense of community that was at its strongest during this time. Soon, the shops in town would be filled with travelers from neighboring states coming to view the magnificent fall foliage and abundant wildlife of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Not long after, the streets would be reclaimed by locals bringing their kids downtown for trick-or-treating and then again for the holiday art crawl and Christmas tree lighting on the square. During all the activity, the mountains would turn into a glorious fire-colored display before surrendering to the lights of Christmas.
Newness and wonder. Tara breathed it in once again before pushing away from the railing and turning to pick up her backpack, wincing a little from the weight as she adjusted it behind her. Stepping lightly down the steps into the driveway, she headed toward the trees that hid a footpath down the hill. The neighbors each took turns mowing the tiny trail when needed, but since she moved in with her sisters five years ago, the path had become mostly dirt. Within minutes, Tara was down the mountain and heading toward downtown, where she would empty her backpack in the various shops that sold her artwork and handmade jewelry.
Tara would miss the convenience of living within walking distance to town, especially during the crowded tourist season, when parking spaces were hard to find. As she gently swung her backpack to the ground and pulled out the handle to roll it now that she was on a sidewalk, she smiled at the reason why. After years of saving money, as well as all her hopes and wishes, she had made an offer on the aging farmhouse that had once belonged to her grandparents—the place of all her happiest childhood memories.
Along with her older sister, Shelby, Tara moved in with her grandmother after her parents’ ugly and volatile divorce. Once everything was settled, their father moved south to Charleston to take a part-time teaching position, which would finance his true aspiration of being a full-time beach bum. Their mother, Frances, took her divorce settlement with her to Europe, where she spent years redefining herself. When she returned, she was no longer the farmer’s daughter with little education or class. She was sophisticated and worldly and immediately set her sights on the richest lawyer in town, Tom Jackson, recently widowed and set to become the next mayor. Though she had mixed feelings, for the easily manipulated Tom, Tara was glad to have gotten a new sister out of her mother’s machinations.
Charlotte had been her and Shelby’s close friend while growing up, and the three had only grown closer in adulthood. Charlotte’s mother had fought a bitter battle with cancer, succumbing just before Frances swept back into town. The three girls bonded over their resentment of their parents, but their love for each other kept them from wallowing in the pain for too long.
Tara loved living with her sisters, but the pull of her grandparents’ farm was too much to resist. Her roots had kept her in this small town, even when ambition called her to larger cities to sell her art in galleries rather than gift shops or to surround herself with people who understood the need to create. Instead, her desire to live the peaceful life of her grandparents, to feel a connection to the earth beneath her and the land and animals surrounding her, fueled her every creation and her every hope.
The rich scent of coffee hit her as she reached Main Street, causing a rumble to sound beneath her sweater. The small bakery and café down the street was already busy with morning commuters stopping to fill their travel mugs with the best coffee in town. Tara quickly decided that would be one of her stops as she approached a beautifully wreathed, locked shop door and knocked. Many moments later, she was greeted by a weathered smile and kind eyes the same shade of green as her father’s, as well as her own.
“Good morning, my dear! You are out far too early this morning.”
Margaret “Lady” Crowley Winters was the owner of It’s by Nature and Tara’s great aunt. She was in her early seventies and moved slower every year, but she still had all the vibrancy she had possessed when Tara was little. Her family had moved to the area from a small antebellum town in southern Georgia, and Lady had never completely succumbed to mountain life. She was classy and elegant and had somehow maintained her distinctive Southern drawl even when everyone around her had the sharper accents of the mountains. The old men in town loved her.
“It’s not too early for you, Aunt Lady. I’d bet you’ve been here at least an hour.”
Lady ran a hand over her bobbed silver hair and sighed. “You forget that I’m old, dear. I can’t sleep past sunrise. I think it is written in the old-lady code.”
Tara laughed and moved farther into the shop filled with beautiful art pieces from many local craftspeople, including herself. Lady catered to the higher-end shopper, those with second homes in the mountains and tourists who wished to take home souvenirs other than plastic keychains and cheap snow globes.
“You are going to have to change that wreath soon. Blue and green no longer fit the smell in the air.”
“You won’t think that around three o’clock when it’s eighty-five degrees out there.”
“And you wonder why I am up so early? Let me pretend it’s fall for a few more hours.”
Lady smiled and led Tara to the back, where she began unloading carefully wrapped packages of beaded necklaces, ceramic serving pieces, and Christmas ornaments that Lady would begin displaying next month. These were just samples. Her aunt would decide how many to order.
“Tara,” Lady breathed out the word, and she gently picked up a handled platter, painted in varying shades of red and orange, for inspection. “This is some of your best work. You must have spent months on these.”
“I have been working on the collection all year, as well as the necklaces, in between orders for paintings and prints.”
“I recently heard Joe say that he can’t keep your work on the walls.”
Joe Greene owned the art gallery across the street that specialized in local paintings. Tara was one on his best sellers.
“I have more work for him, too, but I will need to bring it in my car later. Canvas is too hard to carry down the mountain.”
Lady laughed and patted her hand. “I can only imagine the number of hours you have been spending in that studio of yours. Has the Muse hit you that hard?”
“Financial need has hit me that hard.” She sighed and then smiled. “I made an offer on the farm. Shelby expects to hear from the owners today, but since mine was the only offer after six months of being on the market, she thinks they
will accept.” Her sister was a real estate agent and property manager at the largest agency in Sylvan Hills and was representing her in the sale.
Her aunt eyed her speculatively. “That place needs a lot of work, Tara.”
“Yes, that’s why I have tried to produce more pieces this year. Do you think they will sell?”
“If we get as much traffic as they are predicting, then you will sell out before then end of the year. But, Tara, even with that—”
“I know. It’s a big project, and I am prepared to take an adjunct position at the college or even a waitressing job if I need to. Brandon has offered to help me, and I will have some savings left after I make the down payment. I can make it all work. I am determined.”
“My grandson is very handy, but a lot of that work will be more than the two of you can handle alone.”
Tara felt an unwanted burst of annoyance rise inside her. Shelby had made those arguments and more as she was writing up the offer. She took a moment to breathe and visualize the farm returned to its glory. That always fought off the doubt when it came.
“Whatever comes my way, I will handle it. I have waited too long for the farm to come back to the family. I will never understand why my mother was so quick to sell it or why the current owners never did anything with it.”
“Your mother hated that farm and everything it stood for. She wanted more from life. That’s why she latched on to your father, who had a few dollars in his pocket at the time.”
Tara pushed down old hurts but allowed resentment to continue to fuel her determination. Her parents had a miserable marriage, and they were generous in spreading that misery around. Her only happy moments from those years came from time with her grandparents. Even after her grandfather died, the farm was her sanctuary. “I just wish, for once, that she had thought of Shelby and me. We were happy there.”
Lady stepped closer and put a hand on her arm. “I know, but it might not be wise to let that be your motivation. We have precious few years on this earth, my dear. Don’t spend so many of them in the past.”
Fighting back the tears that threatened, she bent down and zipped up her backpack. “I’m trying to build a future. Do you know how many you want to order?”
“I’m sorry, Tara. I did not mean to upset you.”
Tara shrugged, refusing to let her excitement be quelled by reality. “You didn’t. I know not everybody understands why this means so much to me. I am determined, however, that we all will spend Christmas there and everything will be as perfect as when Grammy would put on all her displays.”
Her aunt pulled her into a sweet, Halston-scented hug. “She was a wonderful woman, and she would be happy to know you are carrying on her traditions.”
“Thank you, Aunt Lady. Will you let me know soon what you would like to order?”
“Of course. Before you go, let me caution you against one more thing. I know you need money for the house, but if what you create becomes all about what you can sell, then you might as well give it up and go work a nine-to-five. Sometimes your dreams cannot coincide, and you must choose. Your art is genuine and comes from deep inside you. Do not lose that.”
“That’s what makes buying the farm so perfect. My greatest inspiration has always come from there. I look forward to using everything my gram taught me to build the place back up. And hopefully, the old barn can serve as a bigger studio than I have now and maybe even double as a gallery. Possibilities abound, and I intend to explore every one of them.”
She kissed her aunt goodbye and headed out the door, her lightened backpack rolling behind her, heading to her next stop. By the time it was emptied, Tara was in need of caffeine supplementation, opting for a hot pumpkin spice latte even though the temperature was creeping up, replacing the fall-scented air with a trace of humidity that would annoy her if she gave it any thought. Instead, she removed her hoodie and sat on a bench on the corner, where she could sip on her latte and imagine the leaves turning on all the trees surrounding the farm.
Tara had only begun when her phone chimed the familiar ringtone that signaled her sister’s call. Her heart started beating fast as she pulled the phone from her pocket. With shaky hands, she pressed answer and placed the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Shelby.”
“Hey, Sister, where are you?”
“Downtown. I just delivered samples to Aunt Lady and everyone else. What’s going on? Have you heard from the owners?”
“Yeah, I just got off the phone with the listing agent.” Shelby paused. “Tara, they rejected your offer.”
“Oh.” Her heart sank, but she refused to panic. “So we need to write up another offer? There’s some room to negotiate, right?”
“No, sweetie. They didn’t counter. They rejected it outright. Another buyer made an offer a couple of days ago, and they accepted it. I’m so sorry.”
Tara swallowed hard as a large knot formed in her stomach. “It’s been on the market for six months with nothing happening, but in a week, they get two offers! Get them back on the phone, Shelby. I can go higher. I’ll just need to take a teaching job.”
“You can’t beat this offer, Tara.” Shelby named a figure that made her head spin. “They are taking the place as is and paying cash. The deal is going through. There’s nothing we can do.”
This was unbelievable. She put a hand over her mouth to stop the sob in the back of her throat from escaping. “No one around here has that kind of money.”
“No. The buyer is from out of town.”
“Great. More strangers coming in, only to lose interest when they see what work is involved.”
“Maybe. Hopefully not. If they are willing to pay that much, then maybe they have plans for the place.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“I really am sorry, Tara. I wish there was something I could do.”
Tara sniffed. “Me too.”
“I’ll come home early today. We’ll open some wine, and I’ll make lasagna for dinner. We can hate this guy and send bad mojo his way all night.”
“Yeah, okay. I gotta go, Shelby.”
She hung up before her sister could reply. She knew she should move and not sit crying on a bench on the corner like a sad fool, but she couldn’t make her feet work. Once again, the home she always wanted was torn from her reach, and just like a decade earlier when her mother had first sold it out from under her, she was powerless to stop it.
Chapter Two
“Are you sure about this, Justin? It is an awfully long way to go.”
Justin Hunter looked up from his suitcase, giving his cousin a sly smile before moving to his dresser to remove more clothes.
“Sylvan Hills is not another country, Annie. Just a couple hours by plane and then a short drive.”
“Still, neither you nor Marley have ever lived anywhere else.”
“And that’s one of the many reasons we are making this move. I have to get her out of this city, Annie. Maybe in a smaller place she won’t look so lost.”
Marley, the twelve-year-old sister he barely knew, had come to live with him eight months prior after her actress mother died in a car accident. Their father, who had never been present in her life and far too present in Justin’s, died from a heart attack a few years earlier.
“But she is lost, Justin. Are you sure moving her away from everything she has ever known is the right thing to do?”
Justin sighed and looked down at Ann, who had been his best friend as long as he could remember. Except for a short time after a car accident had severed her spine, causing paralysis in her lower body and driving her into a self-imposed isolation, they had always been inseparable. Their shared childhood experience of emotionally distant yet controlling fathers had bonded them, and now he would be moving away from the few family members he could tolerate.
“I remember the only times I felt anything other than grief and guilt after my mother died was when I was out of the city, where I had space to run free or yell into the wind or just think without
sirens sounding all around. You, of all people, should realize that.”
“I was twenty when I had my accident, and you were nineteen when your mother died. Marley is only twelve, and do I need to remind you that she barely knows you?”
Justin ran a hand through his thick, dark blond hair and sighed heavily. “Maybe I need space to sort through my guilt, too.”
Ann titled her head and studied him for a moment. “You’re her brother, not her father. You have not been responsible for her all these years.”
“I should have been. No one knows better than me what a bastard our father was. Marley’s mother barely had means to support them. It was one thing to cut me out of his will, but he did not provide for them at all as far as I could tell. Sharon was his mistress and Marley the biproduct. The most I ever did was send her a Christmas present every year.”
“You were very young, still, and had just buried your mother when you found out about them. If a fifty-something man wasn’t taking responsibility, what was a college kid supposed to do?”
“I haven’t been a kid for some time now, Annie. You will not absolve me of this one. My determination to be nothing like him did not extend far enough. But I will take care of Marley now.”
Ann sighed, seeming to give up the point for now. “Okay, so let’s talk about this extreme behavior of yours.”
He looked at her in amusement. “Extreme?”
“Yes! Marley’s counselor suggested she get a pet or grow a garden, and you bought a farm. I call that extreme!”
Justin just stared at her, and eventually, she sighed, hopefully in resignation. He was determined that this move was best for both him and his sister but hated trying to explain all the reasons why. If he completely understood them himself, it might be easier.
“Just how small is this town you’re moving to?”
“About three thousand people. The area is situated in a valley surrounded by hills and is greener than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. Do you realize you look just like your mother when you sneer like that?”