by Jen Gilroy
Seth crossed his arms, and his eyebrows drew together. “You said Jake updated his will a week before he died. Do you know why?”
“No. That was his business.” And like Jake had always respected her privacy, she’d respected his and hadn’t asked questions when the lawyer turned up at his hospital bed.
Seth uncrossed his arms and leaned against a filing cabinet beside the desk. The casual pose was at odds with his grim expression and dark intensity of his eyes.
Dolly lay down by the desk and looked from Seth to Annie.
“I only found out the details of how Jake had changed his will after he passed. That’s when I found out about you.” Annie fumbled for the tiny key she’d worn on a chain around her neck since Jake’s funeral. “He gave me an envelope the night he passed.” She unclasped the chain, and the key slid off and into her palm. “He told me not to open it until after, but when I did, there was a note for me, along with this key.” Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and she curled her hand around the small piece of metal.
“After?”
“He knew he was dying. He knew it would be soon. I promised him I’d do as he asked and then we—my mom, my sisters, and I—although we wanted to stay with him, he made us go and get something to eat. The nurse called my cell half an hour later. He’d slipped away.”
Seth leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “You told me he was a private guy. Maybe he wanted to leave on his own terms and spare you.”
“Maybe.”
His warm hand lingered on top of hers. The skin on his fingertips was callused, like a guy who played a lot of guitar.
Annie stiffened, jerked her hand away, and took a deep, steadying breath. She wasn’t eighteen anymore, and she was immune to masculine charisma, no matter how potent. “This key is for the chest of drawers in the living room of Jake’s apartment. Except for a safety deposit box at the bank, he kept any private stuff he had in those drawers. In the note he left me, he said you were his nephew and asked me to give you the key after I showed you around the station.”
As he took the key from her, Seth’s expression gave nothing away.
“Apart from his guitar, he always said he didn’t have anything valuable to steal, but maybe there are family papers or stuff about his life.” Hyperaware of Seth beside her, and the heat radiating off him, she took a step back.
“Maybe.” Seth’s mouth was pinched.
“As my mom said, Jake was like family to us.” Annie blinked away the tears that threatened to spill out and roll down her cheeks. “We all cared about him. Any one of us would have done anything he asked to help him pass easier.”
Seth’s cell rang with the melody for Dolly Parton’s “Nine to Five,” and Annie started. “Sorry, I have to take this.” His voice roughened.
“Sure.” She gestured to Jake’s office next to the reception area. As the door closed behind Seth, she sat in Sherri’s chair and turned to a stack of unopened mail. She’d given him the key as Jake had asked. And like why Jake had suddenly updated his will, whatever was in that chest of drawers was none of her business.
“I guess Seth’s a Dolly Parton fan, too.” She reached down and patted the top of Dolly’s head.
“You can’t be serious. None of this was my fault so why—” On the other side of the closed door, Seth’s voice rang out.
Then there was silence again, and Annie dipped her head and tried to concentrate on separating junk mail from invoices and payments.
Five minutes later, the door swung open and caught the wall behind it with a bang. Annie jumped and looked up as Seth jammed his phone into the front pocket of his jeans. Anything she might have said died on her lips at the expression on his face. It was Jake at his most pissed off.
“Sorry, that call . . . I had to take care of some . . . stuff.” Seth came to a stop in front of the desk and grabbed the key he’d dropped when his phone rang.
“Of course.” She kept her tone neutral and tossed the junk mail into the recycling box.
“About the station,” he said, then paused for a heartbeat and gave her a strained look. “I still haven’t made any decisions about what I want to do long-term, but if you can handle an amateur, I’ll run it for a while. It sounds like it’s important to you.”
“It’s important to all of us.” Annie’s chest hurt.
“I’ll start tomorrow.” Seth’s expression was shuttered.
“Really?” Annie’s mouth fell open.
“Yes.” His voice was curt, and his brows drew together, but instead of looking pissed off, his expression was bleak. “If Steve has a notice period, he can show me how to work the equipment. Broadcasting technology has gotten a lot more computerized since I worked in a radio booth.
“Steve’s a freelancer. I hired him for two months at first and then from week to week until I found out what you planned. If I call him now, he can show you the ropes tomorrow before he leaves.”
“Great.” Seth’s tone was decisive. “Since Sherri’s off sick, can you help me and get the staff together for a start-of-day meeting here? I wouldn’t ask except I’m guessing you know most of them.” A stiff smile creased one corner of his mouth.
“I know all of them.” Annie linked her hands together to stop them from shaking. “And I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks.” His voice rasped. “How hard can it be to do better than a guy with a voice like a cat with its tail caught in a door?” Something that might have been amusement flickered in Seth’s eyes before it was snuffed out.
“Not hard at all.” Annie cringed.
Seth had remembered what her mom had said.
“Steve was the only one I could find on short notice.”
“Then maybe you did me a favor. Things can only get better, right?” Seth’s smile was tight. He fingered Jake’s key, and Dolly got up and nuzzled his hand.
Despite her relief, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of Annie’s stomach. Why would a guy like Seth want to bury himself in a place like Irish Falls, even for a little while? That phone call had changed something, and, while it might be good for the station, she wasn’t so sure it would be good for her.
She stared at the mail without seeing it. She’d have to work with Seth on the estate paperwork. And while he got up to speed with the running of the station. But after that, she wouldn’t have to be around him very much. Besides, she was taking charge and figuring out what she wanted in this new stage of her life. She’d dealt with all her old fears long ago, learned from her mistakes, and moved on. It didn’t matter that Seth was in the music business. Except as a hobby, that part of her life was over.
“Annie?” Seth’s voice curbed her thoughts. “Jake was lucky to have you and your family. Nowadays . . . that kind of loyalty, it’s not . . . it’s rare.”
Her throat clogged. “We were also lucky to have him. He was a good friend to us.” And Jake had been a friend to her especially. After she’d lost Nana Gerry—the woman who’d healed her heart—Jake and the bond she’d shared with him through music had helped heal her soul.
Seth turned and looked out the window. “What I don’t get, though, is why Jake ended up here. From what I remember, he liked the bright lights, cities, clubs, and checking out a new group every night when he wasn’t on stage with one of his bands.”
“I guess he found something here he needed.” Like her. When her dream had turned into a nightmare, she’d come back to the place where she had roots and felt safe. Annie stood and walked around the desk to join Seth at the window. Outside, lacy snowflakes drifted from a soft gray sky.
Seth pointed toward the waterfall. “Why are things tied to that tree over there?”
“It’s the Irish Falls wishing tree.” And she’d been telling newcomers about it her whole life. “It’s supposed to be magical. If you write your wish on a p
iece of paper and tie it to one of the tree’s branches, your wish will come true.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” He tilted his head and pursed his lips.
“Nope.” If anything, she’d kidded herself back when she was one of the ones who’d wished on that stupid tree. As if a tree had the power to make wishes come true, even wishes with plans and talent behind them. “The wishing tree helps put Irish Falls on the tourist map. Every July, the town holds a wishing tree festival that draws visitors from all across the northeast and Canada too. The radio station and bakery are both big festival supporters.”
Seth made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “But what happens when it’s raining and snowing, like now? All those wishes must be a big, soggy mess.”
Annie stiffened. Although she didn’t believe in the tree, an outsider had no right to mock it or what it meant to people. “Volunteers harvest the wishes every week or so. When the weather is bad, they do it more often. See that guy?” She pointed to an older man in a black rain jacket who stood at the far side of the tree with a basket under one arm. “He’s taking the wishes off the tree. There aren’t a lot there now, but in summer, it gets so busy the wishes sometimes have to be collected two or three times a week so the branches don’t get too heavy and break. If the wishes are wet, they’re dried in the conservation room at the county museum before they’re archived.”
“Is it a religious thing?” Seth’s expression softened and became curious, not disrespectful.
“Spiritual, but not associated with any organized religion.” Annie rubbed a hand across her temple, where the start of a headache throbbed. “Each wish is a story, part of a beginning, a middle, or an end. People wish for their hopes and dreams. Some wishes are happy and others are sad.” And once upon a time, she’d made both those kinds.
“You said the wishes are archived?” His smile was boyish and crinkled his eyes.
“Yes, now they’re stored in an online database, but the museum has a collection of written wishes going back to the eighteen eighties. They did an exhibition about it a few years ago.” And although the world had changed, people’s wishes had remained remarkably similar over the years—desires for world peace, to reconcile with family or friends, to cure an illness, or to find a lasting love. Annie’s chest constricted.
“Do you believe the tree is magical?” Seth asked, his tone careful.
Annie shook her head. “No, but don’t try to convince my mom that tree isn’t special. She won’t hear anything against it. I go along with her because it’s good for business. Quinn’s sells wishing tree boxed picnic lunches from the Memorial Day weekend through to Labor Day. They’re very popular.”
“I don’t believe in wishes.” Seth’s voice was low and threaded with pain.
“Me neither, but a lot of folks are real attached to that tree.” She cleared her throat, and the pain in her chest got worse. “Maybe you don’t know much about small-town life, but around here it’s supposed to bring bad luck if you say anything against our wishing tree.”
The bitterness in his laugh made her flinch. “Did Jake believe in it?”
“He never came right out and said so, but I know he wished on it.” Although he hadn’t told Annie what most of those wishes were for. “Jake said the tree brought him Dolly.”
The dog gave the guttural whine she made whenever she heard Jake’s name, and a familiar lump rose in Annie’s throat.
“I don’t know anything about dogs, but Dolly seems like a good one.” Seth glanced at the mutt, who gave him an expectant look. “Your mom doesn’t want to adopt her?”
Annie shook her head. “Now she’s mostly retired, she and my stepdad, Duncan, want to spend a few months in Florida each winter. They bought a motorhome last year so they can travel around in the summer, too. Mom says it’s time for her to spread her wings. She doesn’t want to be tied down by a pet, work, or anything else.”
Her heart squeezed. Along with finding some new dreams, getting Hannah launched successfully into adulthood was her focus. There would be time enough to spread her wings once Hannah left home. Annie pressed a hand to her throat. She’d made her choices and, until a few days ago, she’d never questioned them but now she was questioning almost everything about her life and who and what she thought she was.
Seth stepped away from her and turned his back on the window, the falls, and the wishing tree. A shaft of spring sunshine poked through the clouds and burnished his brown hair with gold. “I don’t want to be tied down, either.”
Annie swallowed as his words echoed and came to rest beneath her breastbone near her heart. Long ago, she’d heard those same words from another guy with an easy smile and slow Southern drawl. A guy who wouldn’t ever have stuck around a small town like Irish Falls, no matter how picturesque and friendly. And a guy who’d never have blended into the fabric of the town, either, with its slower pace, interconnected relationships, and a wishing tree as its claim to fame.
Suddenly, her body was too hot and her breathing sped up. She closed her eyes and then opened them again as the room seemed to sway around her.
“Annie? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Seth’s voice reverberated near her ear, and his warm breath brushed her cheek. “Here, let me.” He took one of her arms to steady her, and she fought the urge to lean into him and stay there.
She blinked, and his strong jaw and chiseled cheekbones swam into focus again. “Nothing. I’m fine.” She gave him her best fake smile. “With the stress of Jake’s illness and death, it’s been a tough time. I don’t know what came over me.”
But she did and her mind was playing tricks on her. Seth might remind her of her past, but he wasn’t that past. And apart from the accent, his voice was nothing like Todd’s. Except in the most superficial way, he didn’t look like him, either.
She had nothing to worry about. And if she said it often enough, she’d make herself believe it.
Chapter 4
That evening, Seth slumped in a chair at a table in a corner of the Black Duck, the roadhouse on the outskirts of town. He stared into his glass of diet soda, but there were no answers there, either.
Usually a savvy guy, he’d been so focused on what had gone wrong with his son he’d missed the signs with work. Or maybe he’d ignored them because he’d trusted the guy. On the phone earlier, his attorney’s message had been unmistakable. Seth’s business partner had cheated him, lied, and stolen from him. And, along with the big contract they’d been about to sign, the collaboration they’d built together was officially in ruins.
A group of older men in checked shirts and jeans played darts in one corner of the low-ceilinged room. Above the bar, the TV showed an NHL hockey game with the sound turned off. On the small stage along the back wall, a young guy strummed a guitar and a platinum blonde in knee-high boots, tight jeans, and an even tighter top sang an old Vince Gill hit. Seth winced as her voice warbled up and down the scale and the guy plucked chords seemingly at random.
“Seth?”
He raised his head. “Hey.”
Annie stood beside his chair. His gaze slid to the teenage girl at her side. An inch or so taller than Annie, she had curly red-gold hair and dark eyes that stared back at him with undisguised curiosity.
“This is my daughter, Hannah.” Annie’s voice held a warmth he hadn’t heard before.
“Pleased to meet you.” He held out a hand, and the teen took it and grinned.
“Go tell Grandpa Duncan to get a move on,” Annie said to her.
“Sure.” She gave another quick glance at Seth before moving toward the darts players, where she spoke to a man with thick white hair.
“Duncan, my stepdad, plays darts here every Thursday night. Until he has cataract surgery, he’s not supposed to drive after dark.” Annie fidgeted with her purse strap. “M
om is babysitting my sister’s kids, so I’m picking him up.”
“Hannah looks like you.” He got to his feet to stand beside her. He’d chosen a table with only one chair because he hadn’t wanted company. He still didn’t. And Annie had a daughter, so she likely had a husband. For both those reasons, he needed to keep this conversation as short as politeness allowed then make his excuses and leave.
Annie gave him a brief smile. “She’s taller, but Hannah also looks like my mom did at the same age.”
And like her daughters and granddaughter, Maureen was a fine-looking woman. “I bumped into your mom at the grocery store earlier. She told me almost your whole family comes to Sunday dinner. How many people should I be expecting?”
“Hannah and I, my mom and stepdad, Tara, my other sister, Rowan, and her two kids, and my brother, his wife, and two of their boys. Twelve, if everyone can make it.” She paused. “I’m a single parent.”
“Me too.” Seth’s heartbeat sped up. She didn’t have a husband. Despite his better judgment, maybe he didn’t want to head out right away. “My son’s finishing his freshman year of college. He’s studying animation in New York City.” And apart from a few stilted text messages, Seth hadn’t heard from Dylan in four long weeks. “My wife and I split up when Dylan was a baby, so since then it’s only been the two of us.”
“It’s hard raising a child on your own.” Annie’s eyes softened in compassion, as well as understanding.