by Olivia Miles
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For my beautiful daughter.
And for Dad, who loves Vermont.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my editor, Michele Bidelspach, for her spot-on feedback, her support and guidance, and the careful attention she gives to understanding the heart of each of my stories.
Thank you to my copy editor, Lori Paximadis; my publicist, Julie Paulauski; my production editor, Carolyn Kurek; the brilliant art department for creating such a gorgeous cover; and everyone else at Grand Central who has had a hand in bringing this story from a manuscript to the shelves.
I’m so grateful to my family and friends who, after five books, haven’t tired of cheering me on. Special thanks to Natalie Charles, for the brainstorming sessions, support, and a sprinkle of humor.
And last but certainly not least, thank you to all the readers who have taken a visit to Briar Creek and brought this fictional town to life.
CHAPTER
1
I have something to tell you, Mommy.” The words were whispered, almost shyly. “I’m in love.”
The light ahead turned yellow, and Jane Madison hit the brakes a little harder than she’d intended. Looking up, she caught her five-year-old daughter’s reflection in the rearview mirror and tried not to show her amusement. “Oh really? What’s his name?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie replied simply. “But we’re in love.”
“I see.” Was it already starting? Trading in dolls for boys? Jane glanced into the mirror once more, noticing the multiple strands of pink princess jewelry roped around her daughter’s neck and the clip-on plastic earrings that had been part of a set from her birthday last month. Sophie was still her sweet little girl, albeit a slightly boy-crazy one. Perhaps they watched too many cartoon movies where the prince swept the peasant girl off her feet, whisking her away to the castle where they would live happily ever after…
As much as she hated to rob her child of such a beautiful fantasy, it might be time to introduce a new message, one where the girl goes to college, finds a career, and doesn’t pin her entire life on one man. A man who could just leave her in the end.
Well, at least she had some good things to count on, like ice cream for dinner when Sophie wasn’t home, trash TV when the evenings became too quiet, and the twisted comfort of knowing she didn’t have to bother taking the time to shave her legs anymore, unless the urge struck—and more and more often, it didn’t. And she had Sophie, of course. That was all that really mattered.
Jane waited for the light to switch and then eased down the winding roads, slick from three days of rain. The leaves had started to turn, and the strong winds from the past week had blown them in her path, dotting the pavement with bursts of orange and gold. It was a gray day, a dreary day, some might say, but not for Jane. It was the perfect night to curl up with a bowl of homemade soup and catch up with her daughter. Though Sophie had been at her father’s house for only one night in the last week, Jane had spent all of the hours last night when she wasn’t watching reality television or scraping the bottom of the ice cream container counting the hours until the house was again filled with endless chatter and peals of laughter.
“So tell me, Sophie. How do you know you’re in love?”
“He pushed me on the swings at recess today,” Sophie explained. “That’s called true love.”
If only it were that simple. She pulled onto their street, waved at the neighbors she’d come to know in the six years she’d lived on the block, and felt the same sense of calm she always did when her house came into view. The orange-and-white berry wreath she and Sophie had picked out last weekend hung from the hunter-green front door, secured by a twine ribbon, and the colorful red, purple, and orange mums they’d sprinkled throughout the landscaping were downright cheerful; there was no denying that. But just as she began to perk up at how nice the fall decorations looked, she felt the familiar dull heaviness settle over her chest—it was still happening, nine months after her husband had moved out.
“Well, he sounds like a very special young man,” Jane said with a grin, and then stopped with a start as she considered something. The new music teacher at Briar Creek Elementary was pretty cute, and Sophie had developed a fierce crush on her seventeen-year-old camp counselor over the summer—Jane had barely been able to keep from gasping the time Sophie had tried to tickle poor Andrew, giggling the entire time. Yes, her daughter was a natural flirt. Where’d she get that from? Her father, Jane thought ruefully. “Is he… as tall as you?” she ventured.
Sophie nodded eagerly as Jane released her from the booster seat and grabbed her sparkly unicorn backpack. “Although, actually.” Sophie froze and put a finger to her mouth. “He might be just a little bit shorter.”
Jane laughed. “Come on,” she said, pulling the overnight bag from the trunk. “I made you some chocolate chip cookies last night. Your favorite!”
“Oh, yummy! Kristy made me some, too.”
Jane flinched, but said nothing. She took her time opening the door, trying not to think of the woman her husband had left her for as she turned the lock and flicked on the light. The soup she’d left simmering in the slow cooker all afternoon filled the house with warmth and spices, but it did little to touch the emptiness that lingered in her heart.
Sophie made a mad dash for the kitchen, ignoring Jane’s cries to take off her rain boots first. Jane sighed as she hung her coat on the hook in the mudroom. She could already hear Sophie peeling the foil off the plate of cookies. Next she’d be telling her how much better Kristy’s cookies were. It wasn’t enough for the woman to steal her husband. Now she was trying to win over her daughter’s affections, too.
Sophie looked up as Jane entered the kitchen. “These are a lot better than Kristy’s cookies. Hers are all burned around the edges, and they stick to the inside of your mouth. She uses applesauce instead of butter. Aunt Anna made a face when I told her that.”
Jane turned to her daughter with interest, a slow smile creeping over her face. “You don’t say,” she murmured as she pulled a gallon of milk from the fridge, her spirits lifted all at once.
“I told her I liked them, but when she wasn’t looking, I fed my cookie to the cat. You’re not mad, are you, Mommy?”
Joyful might be a better word. Jane pressed her lips firmly shut as she handed the glass of milk to her daughter. “You did the polite thing, Sophie, but as for feeding the cat, it’s probably better to stuff the cookie in your pocket next time.” Or flush it down the toilet. “Chocolate isn’t good for animals. Now, why don’t you go upstairs and unpack your bag while I finish getting dinner ready?”
“Can we have a pajama party tonight?” Sophie asked excitedly as she hopped off the counter stool.
Jane glanced at the clock to see it was only ten past five. On the days she didn’t work, the party sometimes started as early as four. “That sounds like a great idea.” She sighed at the mere thought of removing the ballet tights that clung to her waist under the yoga pants, leaving an unflattering imprint on her skin. Fall session had started today after a three-week break since summer boot camp—in less th
an a month she had forgotten how confining and itchy a leotard could be.
She thought of the two empty ice cream containers buried deep in the trash can. Maybe she should start baking her cookies with applesauce, too.
Taking her daughter’s hand, they raced up the stairs, quickly changing into their comfy cozies, as Sophie called them. While Sophie busied herself with a coloring book at the art table in her bedroom, Jane started a load of laundry, humming under her breath, until the doorbell rang and everything stopped.
Her heart began to pound. Who the heck would drop by at this hour? But right, it wasn’t even five thirty. And she was robed in pink and purple plaid pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and—God help her—no bra. Hot faced with embarrassment, Jane ran through her mental list of possible visitors. A Girl Scout selling cookies, perhaps? Or a door-to-door salesman? She could claim she was under the weather; that would explain her choice of late afternoon attire, though not Sophie’s nightgown… She bit on her nail. The worst scenario would be her ex-husband—actually, no, the worst would be his girlfriend—dropping off something that Sophie had forgotten. The bell rang again, and Jane began frantically rifling through the laundry basket, looking for something that wasn’t stained or wrinkled or didn’t smell, anything that was more appropriate than what she was wearing. The bell rang a third time. Jane stepped away from the laundry pile. She was a mess either way, but at least this way she was clean.
Anxiety tightened its grip as she rounded the corner, and she chastised herself for not holding out for at least another hour—six was a far more acceptable time for pajamas, sort of… She edged to the door, holding her breath, and then sighed in relief when she saw her older sister through the glass panel.
“Grace! Come on in!” She smiled, ignoring the way Grace’s expression folded in confusion as she swept her eyes down to Jane’s feet, cozily covered in oversized bunny slippers. Jane felt the heat in her cheeks rise. She’d forgotten about those.
“Off to bed already?” Grace laughed, but the insinuation stung, and Jane told herself that this particular part of her weekday routine really needed to stop. And it would. Soon. Sure, it was more comfortable to live in pajamas, but the day was still young enough for people to stop by—people who were fully clothed and, unlike her, willing to go out in public.
“It’s a dreary day,” she explained good-naturedly, taking Grace’s umbrella from her hand. “I have homemade minestrone soup if you’d like to stay for dinner.”
Grace nodded and followed her into the kitchen. “Luke has a board of education meeting tonight,” she explained as she set her bag on the floor and slid onto a counter stool. From above them there was a thump and a scamper of feet. Grace laughed and pointed to the ceiling. “Is she dancing?”
“I love my daughter, but I don’t think the Moscow Ballet is in her future,” Jane said with a rueful grin.
“How was class today?”
“Good,” Jane said pensively. It had actually been very quiet compared to previous sessions. She should probably view that as a good thing, considering how rambunctious the girls in one of her summer classes had been. Between the squealing and jumping, she’d had to start carrying a bottle of ibuprofen in her dance bag.
Grace raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem very sure about that. Has Rosemary been trying to set you up on more dates?”
“Jeez, no.” Jane laughed. She’d allowed her boss to set her up on a series of eye-opening dates last spring, all of which confirmed her belief that she was better off alone. One of her dates hadn’t liked children and had consumed so much booze she’d had to tell the hostess to take his keys. Then there had been Brian. She had pinned so much hope on the man pitched as a bespectacled doctor. He was sweet, even if he had turned out to be a male nurse instead of a surgeon, but he didn’t make her heart flutter, and besides, he had now been in a long-term relationship since about a week after their dinner date. She’d tried to tell herself that was for the best, that she hadn’t felt that spark, but she couldn’t deny the part of her that felt the sting of rejection. The lack of attraction had clearly been mutual.
So, yes, she was alone. Not by choice, but she would embrace it. What other choice did she have?
“Rosemary thankfully hung up her matchmaking hat after she finally got Anna and Mark back together,” Jane said, smiling at the thought of her sister and Rosemary’s nephew living so happily together after years of stubborn silence. “If my little string of dates taught me anything, it’s that dating is no fun at all.”
“You just haven’t found the right guy yet,” Grace encouraged.
“Show me someone who is uncomplicated, committed, emotionally available, and crazy in love with me and my daughter, and then I’ll reconsider. Until then, I’m happy right here.”
“At home in your pajamas.” Grace held her gaze.
“That’s right.” Jane nodded. “I’ve had enough dating for one lifetime, thank you very much.”
Grace gave her a stern look. “You know how I feel about that.”
Yes, Jane did, and she wasn’t about to continue this conversation. Now that Grace was getting married and Anna was equally in love, it seemed both sisters were more focused than ever on seeing their younger sister settled down and happy.
“Yes, well, my classes were fine today,” Jane said briskly. She paused, wondering why she felt so bothered by the day. Enrollment capped at ten students per class, but her three forty-five Intro to Pointe class had just four students, and Rosemary had been unusually quiet when she’d left for the day.
Oh, well, the session was just beginning, and seasonal colds were already going around. Perhaps a few of the girls had been sick or would be late joiners. Surely they’d want to audition for The Nutcracker.
“It was very calm. Very… stress-free.”
“With Rosemary?” Grace didn’t look convinced, and Jane had to laugh at that. Her boss could be demanding, but Jane was too grateful for the work to complain. If Rosemary hadn’t stepped in and offered her a teaching position at the studio last winter, she wasn’t sure she would have had the nerve to confront Adam about the affair. It was just the ray of hope she needed to prove to herself that she could stand on her own two feet. She’d given up any hope of a ballet career—not to mention a college education—to get married and settle down. Her husband had been her life, and now she had to live one without him in it.
Jane took a loaf of sourdough bread from a bag and set the oven to preheat. “So, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
Grace’s eyes twinkled as she gave a slow smile. “I found Sophie’s flower girl dress.”
“For real this time?” Grace had already changed her mind on her own wedding gown six times, and she was yet to commit to the flower arrangements, even with the big event only a few weeks away.
“I just want it to be perfect.”
“I know.” Jane felt bad for giving her sister a hard time. She’d been a bride herself once, caught up in all the little details that seemed so trivial now. She should have spent less time worrying about flowers and more time worrying about her future husband and the little voice that kept warning her to walk away… “Let me see what you picked out.”
Jane hurried to the island and leaned in as Grace rummaged through a glossy bridal magazine, stopping at a picture of a little girl wearing a deep crimson ball gown in raw silk, with a thick ivory bow at the waist. After the chocolate brown option Grace had proposed last week, Jane knew that Sophie would be thrilled with the idea of wearing this dress.
“Should we get Sophie?” she asked, grinning.
“She had better like it,” Grace said. “These dresses take at least three weeks to arrive. I’m really cutting it close.”
Jane grinned. “Sophie! Sophie, come on downstairs. Aunt Grace has something to show you!”
Soon there was a thump, heavy enough to make the sisters wince and then giggle, followed by a pounding of small feet down the wooden stairs.
“What is it, what i
s it?” Sophie announced breathlessly as she scampered into the kitchen.
“You’re in your pajamas, too, I see,” Grace remarked, taking in the pink nightgown with the ruffle trim. She gave Jane a pointed look, and Jane pulled in a deep breath, telling herself not to let it get to her. So, yes, she had become a bit of a hermit in the months since Adam had moved in with his girlfriend, but could anyone blame her? Her husband had cheated on her, lied to her, and then proceeded to move in with his mistress just three miles across town. Briar Creek was small and word traveled fast. Even if she was the wronged party, and even if she did have the support of many, she didn’t need the sympathy. Or the reminder. She just wanted… She popped the bread into the oven and set the timer. She just wanted to feel safe, she supposed. And what better way to feel that way than to stay home, surrounded only by those you let in?
“Sophie, look at this dress,” Jane said. “Do you want to wear that when you’re a flower girl?”
Sophie jutted her chin at the picture Grace held up and shook her head. “I’m going to wear a blue flower girl dress.”
Jane and Grace exchanged a look of alarm. This was at least the eleventh dress Grace had fallen in love with, usually before finding one she loved even more the next day or, in the case of the chocolate brown gown, having it boycotted by the flower girl herself. Time was running out for further indecision. This dress was going to have to work.
“But honey, Grace and Luke are having fall colors for their wedding. Remember how we looked at those pretty red and orange flowers?” And the green ones, and the purple ones…
“But my flower girl dress is blue! Blue velvet! Kristy said so.”
Jane slid her eyes to Grace, who stared at her, not blinking.
“What do you mean, Kristy said so?” Grace pressed gently when it became clear Jane was unable to ask.
“Kristy showed me my dress. It’s blue velvet with flowers around the neck.”
Jane was having trouble breathing. Her chest felt tight, and her heart was pounding. She stared at Grace, willing her oldest sister to make this right, to clear this up. Grace bit down on her lip, studying her niece, confusion knitting her brow.
