“I’m sorry,” Phoebe whispered.
“I wanted to find Mama. And I did.”
“You...did?” He was so confused. So tired. So...exhilarated, nothing was making sense.
“I think we’ve all found some closure out there. Now.” Kendall bent down and, turning Phoebe to face her, zipped up the child’s coat. “It’s time to get this party started. An awful lot of people came to look for you, young lady. What do you say we go thank them?”
“Okay.” Phoebe took a hold of both Hunter’s hand and Kendall’s.
Before the three of them headed to the place that had saved them all: Liberty Lighthouse.
EPILOGUE
Three months later
KENDALL BROKE DOWN the second last of the packing boxes and tossed it onto the pile with the others by the front door. Hands on her hips, she took a long, approving look around the onetime welding shop.
Lori’s and Calliope’s suggestion months before about the Stedman house and property being for sale had been the perfect solution. Phoebe had fallen in love with the place the moment she saw her proposed bedroom that included a bay window surrounded by large built-in bookcases. Hunter’s new office, as promised, overlooked the ocean, which was close enough for them all to take walks along their own cliff’s edge most nights after dinner.
As for Kendall’s workshop, now home base for Kendall Construction and Refurbishment, she had everything she’d always been afraid of wanting.
Kendall walked across the cement floor to the office she’d created for herself. It wasn’t anything fancy—a laptop computer, business cards, a schedule of jobs she had lined up well into the next year. She sat at the desk that had been her father’s, one of the many pieces of furniture she and Hunter had brought back from their trip to North Dakota.
Some might have considered it an odd kind of honeymoon, but it was time to tie up all those loose threads of her life before Hunter and Phoebe. Before she’d arrived in Butterfly Harbor.
Thankfully, she’d kept her mother’s antique writing desk, which was now in the front hall, her grandmother’s china cabinet and a few other pieces that brought back fond memories of her childhood.
There was only one box left. The box sitting on the corner of her desk beside the framed picture of her and Hunter on their wedding day, with Phoebe, a rather spur-of-the-moment event that had taken place at the Liberty Lighthouse shortly after the job was completed.
With surprisingly steady hands, Kendall lifted the lid of the box. Sam’s dog tags and military ID sat atop the collection of letters she’d mailed him—the letters they’d exchanged beyond the emails and the video chats. She sifted through them, pulling out the photographs and silly notes, setting them aside until she stopped.
Sam’s officer’s photo. Kendall’s eyes misted as she looked at his smiling, handsome, glasses-clad face beaming through the lenses at her. “You’d like him,” she whispered, tracing her finger across Sam’s face. “You’d like him a lot.” She would always miss him. Miss the boy she’d grown up with, the man she’d loved. But he of all people would have understood her need to move on. And that she could have a bright future with Hunter without ever forgetting Sam.
She slipped the letters and pictures back into the box and stored it in the bottom of the filing cabinet behind her. Kendall did one more pass through the workshop, made sure everything was in its place, before heading out and, with one more glance at the cabinet, managed a small smile as she closed the door.
“Phoebe! Charlie!” She headed up the path to the house, ducking around to the customized swing set she, Frankie and Kyle had built for the little girl as a wedding gift. She and Hunter had gotten presents. It only made sense that Phoebe should get something, too. “You two girls ready for dinner?”
“Almost!” Phoebe called as she soared through the air, leaning outrageously far back in the swing. Charlie, flying just as high, let out a laugh and Phoebe joined in. It lightened Kendall’s heart.
A gentle tinkling of butterfly wind chimes from the patio behind her had Kendall looking over her shoulder. Kendall swore she heard the sound of laughter; another child’s laughter, before it floated away on the breeze. “Samira,” Kendall whispered as a trio of butterflies flitted into view. Her heart thumped, but the sadness and longing that had ensnared her for so long didn’t descend as they once did.
“Did you see the butterflies?” Phoebe’s excited words were like a balm to Kendall’s soul. Kendall watched as Phoebe and Charlie raced past her to chase after the butterflies. “There were three of them. Did you see?” Phoebe yelled out, huffing and puffing, but with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
“I always see them, now,” Kendall whispered and nodded, as she headed into the house through the patio doors. “Hunter?” She had to navigate the rooms since the unpacking and rearranging hadn’t been finished yet. She found him in his office, sitting at his desk with his back to her. “Hey. Did you get anything out for dinner because I forgot to?” She knocked on the door frame. “Did you hear me? What’s wrong?” She walked up behind him, leaned over his shoulder and peered at his computer screen.
“Nothing.” Hunter’s fingers went white around the computer mouse. “Yet.”
“What do you mean, yet? Oh.” She saw the email from Max, Hunter’s literary agent, and felt her own nerves flutter. “I forget.” Kendall slipped her arm around his chest and leaned closer. “Is it good news or bad that comes in threes?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Come on, you have to face your fear.” She reached over and covered his hand with hers. Together, they clicked to open the email from his agent. She could feel the tension in his shoulders.
The same sort of tension that had disappeared when Stephen and Eleanor Cartwright had dropped their custody suit in exchange for Kendall not pressing charges. Kendall had asked that they not get into trouble for having hired a private investigator to steal her medical records, even though she hadn’t seen much remorse over the fact, or that Eleanor had tried to blackmail her. As a result, Hunter and Kendall felt it was better for Stephen and Eleanor to keep their distance until Phoebe turned eighteen and could decide for herself whether or not she wanted to have any contact with her grandparents.
The entire situation struck Kendall as just sad. But it was the only thing that was.
“Huh.” Kendall scanned Hunter’s email, unable to hide her smile. A smile she’d become more and more accustomed to since the night she’d found Phoebe on the cliffs. “I guess you’re getting a book deal.”
“Three books.” Hunter sagged back in his chair. “They want a series. Off a single book proposal. Kendall, that just doesn’t happen.”
“All evidence to the contrary.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Congratulations, author. We can add that to our celebration today.”
“Are we really doing this?” He spun in his chair and tugged her onto his lap. Pointing to the unorganized room, he said, “It’s been a lot for us to take on. Newlywed homeowners. Phoebe back in school. You getting your business license—”
“Kendall Construction and Restoration Inc., at your service.”
“And now a book deal, too?” This time, he kissed her. “You are definitely my good-luck charm.”
“Mom! Dad!” Phoebe burst into the room and practically slid into a heap at their feet. “Charlie says we’re invited to Calliope’s tonight for dinner cause Holly and Luke are coming with the babies. Everyone’s gonna be there. Can we go? Please! Sebastian is going to be there with a new litter of kittens from the shelter. Can I finally get a kitten, Daddy? Or maybe two? Sebastian says two is better than one. That way they’ll always have someone to play with like when I’m in school and we don’t want them to get bored. Please?”
Hunter looked to Kendall and she gave a small nod of approval. She sighed, leaned back in his arms.
“Honestly
?” Hunter said, with good humor in his voice. “I think the only thing missing from our lives is a cat. But just one!” Phoebe didn’t seem to take any notice, though, since she’d already run off and started yelling for Charlie. “Shoot.”
Kendall laughed. “It’s like you can read my mind.”
“We’re going to end up with two kittens, aren’t we?” He caught her chin in his fingers and brought her mouth to his.
“Yes,” she murmured happily. “Yes, we are.”
* * *
Other great titles in the
Butterfly Harbor Stories
miniseries include:
The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor
Recipe for Redemption
A Dad for Charlie
Always a Hero
Holiday Kisses
Available at
www.Harlequin.com today!
And don’t miss Frankie’s romance,
Under the Mistletoe,
coming in November 2019!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Their Forever Home by Syndi Powell.
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Their Forever Home
by Syndi Powell
CHAPTER ONE
THE BALLROOM AT the Whittier Hotel in downtown Detroit glittered under the dozen chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling. Cassie Lowman felt a crick in her neck start to form as she stared at the opulent murals decorating the ceiling above her head. While it wasn’t her favorite aesthetic, she could appreciate the artistry. Too ornate and fussy for her—she would rather have something be beautiful in its simplicity.
A tuxedoed waiter passed by with a tray of half-filled champagne flutes. She snagged one before returning her gaze to the ceiling. She lifted her glass for a brief salute and then started to scan the room for familiar faces.
In truth, most of the faces were known to her as well as their names. These were her father’s former competitors—building contractors who had rejoiced when he’d failed and patted themselves on their backs while they swooped in and stole his clientele. She tasted the bitterness and anger at the back of her throat, so she tipped the champagne flute and drank the bubbly liquid before leaving the empty glass on a nearby table. Maybe it was better for her to look for new friends.
Speaking of friends, the Buttucci brothers, Tiny and Biggie, waved at her from the other side of the ballroom. She started to wobble in her shoes as she walked toward them. Blast her mother for insisting she wear high heels to this kickoff event. She wasn’t a heels kind of woman. Nor a fancy dress type, either, she thought, as she tugged at the neckline. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had something to flaunt, but she knew her limitations.
Biggie held a beer in his hands, and Cassie eyed it with envy. She approached the brothers, who were like family to her, especially now that she hoped to be helming the business, rather than her dad. “I’m glad you two could come. I don’t know if I could face this alone, chosen or not.”
Tiny looked behind her. “Your mother’s not here?”
“Mother decided that if she came with me that it would mean she approved of this venture.” Cassie shook her head. “And we all know where she stands on that.”
Tiny put his hand on her shoulder. “She’ll get over it in time.”
“Yesterday, her last words on the phone to me were, and I quote, ‘Forget the company already. It’s an anchor dragging you down.’ End quote.” Not that the company had many assets left after her father had taken most of them when he disappeared, and the rest had been sold to pay off debts. She’d had to tell employees who had been with her father for decades that they should seek employment elsewhere. Even her sister who had been the construction office’s receptionist had found a new job within weeks of his disappearance. The only two who had refused to leave her stood with her now. Cassie tugged again at the dress she’d borrowed from her older sister. “She doesn’t get it. I want to win the quarter of a million prize money so that I can start the business over and hire everyone back.”
Biggie grunted and sipped his beer while Tiny patted her shoulder again. “It will all work out. It always does.”
She wished she had his confidence. Her father’s building company seemed to be just another thing that stood between her and her mother. Growing up, Cassie had heard about how ladies didn’t come home covered in sawdust or with calloused hands. Ladies wore dresses, not plaid shirts and jeans. Her older sister, Andromeda, had filled the bill according to her mother’s requirements. Couldn’t her mother be happy that she had one perfect daughter?
But Lowman Construction meant something to Cassie, even if her mother had turned her back on it. Not only had it been her means of income, it was her lifeblood. She’d put years of her life into it at her father’s side, and she hoped to continue without him. She wanted to bring it back to what it had once been. She had to.
Cassie glanced again at Biggie’s beer. “Where can I get one of those?”
He pointed to a long wood-and-brass bar where several people milled, and she walked toward it. People murmured as she passed them, but she chose to hold her head high and ignore the comments. She paused a moment when she tottered again and the heel on one shoe threatened to bend and snap, but she slowed her gait and joined the line of those waiting for a drink.
She heard a scratchy voice talking ahead of her and recognized the gravelly tones of Bill Swenson, one of her father’s chief rivals. “I don’t understand why some people can’t let go of failure and get on with their lives. Did you see her name on the list? Does she have to waste her time and ours by entering this contest?”
A man next to him sneered. “Bill, you know why she entered. To redeem her father’s name.”
Cassie swallowed again at the bitter taste in her mouth. They could only be talking about her. She thought about leaving the line without getting her beer, but the temptation to eavesdrop was too great.
Bill laughed. “Redeem? She’d have to do a lot more than win some contest to do that. How about paying back the people he stole from? You ask me, she’s cut from the same cloth as her old man.” He spotted her. Giving her a sardonic grin, he winked. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”
Tears threatened to choke her, but she wasn’t going to let anyone, especially Bill, see how the words affected her. They didn’t know anything about her. Didn’t know that she had been just as shocked by the allegations of embezzlement against her father. As heads turned to look at her, she stood straighter, refusing to ignore their stares. “You can
watch me all you want as I win this thing, Bill. The Belvedere Foundation won’t accept substandard materials and shoddy work. Isn’t that why you lost the Stamper contract?”
Bill bristled and took a step toward her, but someone pulled him back and ordered him a drink. Most of the others who had listened to the conversation turned away from her and joined him. Cassie put a hand on her chest and felt her heart beating with speed. She wouldn’t run now. She had to prove to them all that she was as good as them, if not better. She could rebuild beautiful houses as well as her own life.
* * *
WITH A GLASS of whiskey in his hand, John Robison leaned on the bar and looked at the woman whose cheeks had colored at the blustering contractor’s words. He could admire someone who wouldn’t back down from a confrontation with a bully. Took a lot of guts to keep your head high when others were trying to tear you down. The woman made her way up to the front of the bar and ordered a beer. Her dark brown eyes reminded him of the color of bourbon. “You have something to say, too?”
He shook his head and looked her over. She was petite, but he sensed that there was a lot of power in that compact frame. “No, ma’am.”
“Ma’am.” She rolled her eyes. “So polite.”
“The way my mama raised me.”
She eyed him with a gleam of speculation. “I know most of the people here, but I don’t think we’ve met before.” She held out her hand. “Cassie Lowman.”
“John Robison.” He took her hand into his and felt the calluses on them. “You’re a contractor?”
She gave a short nod and accepted the tall glass of beer the bartender handed her. “Rough hands tend to give away my profession. Your smooth hands tell me you’re a designer.”
“Guilty. I usually hold pencils instead of hammers and saws. This will be my first time designing a house, though.”
“First time? And you entered a contest like this without any experience?”
“I have plenty of design experience, and I’ve won contests like this in the past. They just happened to be designs for cars.” Five awards to be exact, but who was counting? He didn’t need to have experience with houses to win this thing. His art training could be translated into many different avenues, but seeing the contest announced in the newspaper had seemed to be a sign of which one to follow.
Safe in His Arms--A Clean Romance Page 22