by Beck, Jamie
PRAISE FOR IN THE CARDS
“Infused with . . . fresh detail. Between the sweetness of the relationship and the summery beach setting, romance fans will find this a warming winter read.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Fans will love the frank honesty of her characters. [Beck’s] scenery is richly detailed and the story engaging.”
—RT Book Reviews
“[A] realistic and heartwarming story of redemption and love . . . Beck’s understanding of interpersonal relationships and her flawless prose make for a believable romance and an entertaining read.”
—Booklist
PRAISE FOR WORTH THE WAIT
“[A] poignant and heartwarming story of young love and redemption and will literally make your heart ache . . . Jamie Beck has a real talent for making the reader feel the sorrow, regret, and yearning of this young character.”
—Fresh Fiction
PRAISE FOR WORTH THE TROUBLE
“Beck takes readers on a journey of self-reinvention and risky investments, in love and in life . . . With strong family ties, loyalty, playful banter, and sexual tension, Beck has crafted a beautiful second-chances story.”
—Starred review, Publishers Weekly
PRAISE FOR SECRETLY HERS
“[I]n Beck’s ambitious, uplifting second Sterling Canyon contemporary . . . Conflicting views and family drama lay the foundation for emotional development in this strong Colorado-set contemporary.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Witty banter and the deepening of the characters and their relationship, along with some unexpected plot twists and a lovable supporting cast . . . will keep the reader hooked . . . A smart, fun, sexy, and very contemporary romance.”
—Kirkus Reviews
PRAISE FOR WORTH THE RISK
“An emotional read that will leave you reeling at times and hopeful at others.”
—Books and Boys Book Blog
PRAISE FOR UNEXPECTEDLY HERS
“Character-driven, sweet, and chock-full of interesting secondary characters.”
—Kirkus Reviews
PRAISE FOR BEFORE I KNEW
“A tender romance rises from the tragedy of two families—a must read!”
—Robyn Carr, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Jamie Beck’s deeply felt novel hits all the right notes, celebrating the power of forgiveness, the sweetness of second chances, and the heady joy of reaching for a dream. Don’t miss this one!”
—Susan Wiggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Before I Knew kept me totally enthralled as two compassionate, relatable characters, each in search of forgiveness and fulfillment, turn a recipe for heartache into a story of love, hope, and some really good menus!”
—Shelley Noble, New York Times bestselling author of Whisper Beach
PRAISE FOR ALL WE KNEW
“[A] moving story about the flux of life and the steadfastness of family.”
—Publishers Weekly
“[A]n impressively crafted and deftly entertaining read from first page to last.”
—Midwest Book Review
“All We Knew is compelling, heartbreaking, and emotional.”
—Harlequin Junkie
PRAISE FOR JOYFULLY HIS
“A quick and sweet read that is perfect for the holidays.”
—Harlequin Junkie
PRAISE FOR THE MEMORY OF YOU
“[Beck] deepens a typical story about first loves reuniting by exploring the aftermath of a violent act. Readers will root for an ending that repairs this couple’s past hurt.”
—Booklist
“Beck’s portrayals of divorce and trauma are keen . . . Readers will be caught up in their journey toward healing and romance.”
—Publishers Weekly
ALSO BY JAMIE BECK
In the Cards
The St. James Novels
Worth the Wait
Worth the Trouble
Worth the Risk
The Sterling Canyon Novels
Accidentally Hers
Secretly Hers
Unexpectedly Hers
Joyfully His
The Cabot Novels
Before I Knew
All We Knew
When You Knew
The Sanctuary Sound Novels
The Memory of You
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2019 by Jamie Beck
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503905245
ISBN-10: 1503905241
Cover design by Emily Mahon
Photography by Regina Wamba of Mae|Design.com
For my agent, Jill, who saw something she liked in my writing and has worked tirelessly to help me navigate the highs and lows of publishing. Thank you for everything you do to keep me on track. I know it isn’t an easy job!
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
EXCERPT: THE WONDER OF NOW
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chapter One
Claire would rather stand naked in the middle of Sanctuary Sound’s town green to expose her scars than start this conversation with Steffi. She’d dismissed her father’s warnings about going into business with a friend, certain that she and Steffi could weather any dispute. After all, they’d managed a workable solution to the Peyton problem when Claire couldn’t have imagined anything more difficult. Apparently, her imagination hadn’t worked hard enough. This current mess, Steffi’s beloved 1940s bungalow that had exacerbated their remodeling company’s financial troubles, proved that a personal bond was exactly what made partnership conflicts so sticky.
Before taking her seat, she leaned Rosie—her worn rosewood-and-ivory cane—against a chair at the dining table. Overhead she heard Steffi’s boyfriend, Ryan—his heavy footfall on the bathroom tile, followed by the sound of the waterfall showerhead at full blast.
While Steffi poured them each a mug of hot chocolate, Claire inventoried the recently renovated interior for the millionth time. They’d tested six blends of “Espresso” and “Jacobean” stain before settling on the darkest one for all the floors. A gray glass-tile backsplash and white quartzite counters had been splurges. The assortment of modern lines and rustic, antique finishes might inspire a Town & Country feature, but that didn’t make the project any less fiscally irresponsible.
“Did you highlight your hair this morning?” Steffi grabbed a can of whipped cream from the refrigerator. “Strawberry blonde’s tres chic.”
“Thanks.” Claire threaded her fingers through the front of her hair self-consciously. T
he impulsive decision had more to do with Peyton’s impending return than with a desire to be stylish.
Peyton Prescott, the other part of the childhood triumvirate Steffi had named the Lilac Lane League. Peyton. For the past eighteen months, any mention of her name had nicked another piece of Claire’s heart. Bad enough that she’d swept through town and bewitched Claire’s then-boyfriend, Todd. Worse that Todd then ran off with Peyton on her travel-writing adventures. Betrayal by a man sucked. Betrayal by a man and a former bestie—although Peyton obviously hadn’t been a true friend—was excruciating.
In truth, Claire could admit Peyton wasn’t the only woman more venturesome than she. The lame hip and chronic pain from the bullet wound had put Claire’s high-adventure days in the rearview mirror since before she learned to drive. No more tennis. No hiking. No heels. Even dancing could be iffy, especially on dank nights. Her cane had become her most reliable companion, which was why she’d given it a name. And travel? Claire had put the worst of her PTSD behind her, but hypervigilance remained a family credo. No city or vacation destination was worth the risk of another life-altering event.
So be it. She was alive, which beat the alternative despite her limitations. But moving on didn’t mean rolling over, so Claire had declared good riddance to both Peyton and Todd, thankful she wouldn’t have to face them again.
She’d never dreamed Peyton would come home to live, even if only temporarily. Claire wasn’t dating anyone now, which meant the only thing left for Peyton to steal was her pride. Given Claire’s state of mind, it could happen. At the very least, Peyton’s return would stir up dust and make Claire the subject of more gossip. Unlike when she used to compete in the USTA New England’s district tournaments, Claire now hated being the center of attention almost as much as she hated brussels sprouts.
Peyton’s return would also bring her brother, Logan—the star of Claire’s teenage fantasies (and only real rival to her girlhood crush on then up-and-coming junior tennis champ Andy Roddick)—to town. He’d been different from other teen boys—more clever and creative. The last time she’d seen him, this past fall, she’d stammered and scampered away. That recollection made her hot—in a bad way.
She’d sworn to herself that the next time she saw either Prescott, she’d be prepared.
Determined to be on equal footing with her golden-haired rival, Claire had lightened her hair. Silly? Sure. But in the heat of the moment, it had made perfect sense. Then she’d remembered Peyton’s ongoing battle with breast cancer—and her probable lack of any hair—and prayed for forgiveness for such petty thoughts.
Claire smoothed one hand across the waxed surface of Steffi’s farmhouse table, her fingers tracing the ridge between two planks of wood. This bargain find—a benefit of having lived her entire adult life within a ten-mile radius of home and knowing every local craftsman—had been a coup. Claire smiled to herself, picturing Steffi, Ryan, and his daughter, Emmy, carving the holiday roast and blowing out birthday candles at this table.
Steffi carried a round metal tray with the oversize mugs and whipped cream into the dining room and set it on the table, then handed a mug to Claire. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She inhaled a whiff of milk chocolate, then gently blew into the cup to cool the beverage. “Looks like you’re almost finished unpacking.”
“Can’t believe how long it’s taking, but I won’t complain.” Steffi sat, slung her dark hair into a low ponytail, and rolled back the sleeves of one of Ryan’s faded “BC Law” sweatshirts. “Sometimes I wake up and need to pinch myself. I never dreamed I could be in love again and living out my teenage dreams.”
Claire reached across the table and squeezed Steffi’s hand. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”
She couldn’t. Mostly.
Steffi and Ryan had worked through a lot of mistakes and Steffi’s violent assault to get to this place. They’d earned their happiness, which was why Claire had agreed to take on this project and let them buy the house at practically no profit. Maybe her dad hadn’t been wrong about the complications of mixing friendship with business, but she could hardly regret this choice.
“Thanks.” Steffi’s gaze strayed from Claire’s open laptop to Rosie and back to Claire’s face. She patted Claire’s hand. “I want you to be happy, too. Ryan has a cute colleague . . .”
“I am happy.” Claire withdrew her hand. Totally true, although that didn’t mean a little pang didn’t squeeze her heart now and then from the way her own love life had fizzled. Fizzled? No. Exploded—imploded?—or, more accurately, absconded.
But she’d moved on—really, she had. She no longer pictured Todd with horns and green eyes. She stifled a smile at the thought of that favorite pastime. She’d done it so often that she’d sort of forgotten what he actually looked like.
Now, most nights she collapsed into bed, eager to read a good book after a long, productive day. Only the occasional unexpected moment unlocked that bleak, frosty spot in her chest that ached as much as her hip, like when she watched diaper commercials or decorated a nursery or watched The Notebook.
Steffi offered a smile, then cracked her knuckles.
Enough about Peyton and Todd and my nonexistent love life.
“I’ll be happier once we sort out our financial problems.” Claire snatched the whipped cream and shook it hard before layering three full rotations of foamy, chilled sweetness atop her cocoa. Simple pleasures nourished the soul, and enough of them strung together made up for the inevitable disappointments and devastations everyone faced. “All the time spent on this project kept us from finding new ones. At the moment, my small decorating jobs can’t keep us both employed and pay our bills.”
“Bigger reno work will start up soon. People generally try to avoid construction projects during the winter.” Steffi cast a glance through the French doors to the snowy backyard, where young Emmy was building an igloo.
Claire rarely recalled the time before her injury, when she’d been carefree, dragging her toboggan up Nob Hill, battling in neighborhood snowball fights, and snuggling up in the window seat near the hearth of her parents’ home to watch giant flakes swirl to the ground. Now the pleasant memories spread bittersweet warmth through her chest.
Steffi sighed. “I know the business took one on the chin so Ryan and I could afford this house. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
“I did it with love, so you don’t need to ‘make it up’ to me. But we veered from our original business plan in order to do this project, and to take on a small crew. We need to be more strategic. Let’s go back to our plan to rent retail space to help drive business.” Her former job at Ethan Allen had taught her the value of having a space where potential customers could easily walk in, ask questions, and see samples. She’d already planned out their retail space on paper—gigantic plateglass window, white-and-cottage-blue interior, round worktables, and assorted fanciful light fixtures—and couldn’t wait to see it come to fruition. “To do that, we need more money ASAP. I’m not complaining, but we need new leads and more traction with our website and social media presence.” Claire closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Neither of these things eased her stress the way a good junk-food binge could, but Steffi hadn’t put cookies out, so this was her best option.
When she heard Steffi add more whipped cream to her mug, she opened her eyes and peered across the table. Steffi had fallen silent while sipping her cocoa, but her constipated expression snagged Claire’s attention.
“What are you thinking?” Claire dropped her hands to the table.
Steffi shook her head, waving one hand. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie. Is there another problem I’m not aware of?”
“No.” Steffi inhaled, held her breath, then exhaled slowly. “I know of one project that would make a sweet profit and let you really stretch your talent. ‘Sky’s the limit’ kind of budget.”
Excitement lifted Claire’s spirit, straightening her spine. Anything that accelerated plans to op
en a retail outlet merited her attention. “Sounds amazing. What’s the catch?”
Steffi hesitated.
“Never mind. You won’t take it, so let’s move on.” Steffi spooned whipped cream into her mouth. “Oh! Molly says that Mrs. Brewster is thinking of remodeling her master bath.”
Mrs. Brewster’s late husband had left her comfortably well off, but you’d never know it. She clipped every coupon available to humanity—Claire had been behind her at the grocery store more than once. She put only two dollars in the collection basket at church each week, despite having enough money to leave more. And she gave out bite-size candy at Halloween. Bite-size!
“We can’t rely on Ryan’s mom as our major source of leads, and Mrs. Brewster spending big bucks on a remodel sounds improbable. Betcha she pretended to be interested so she could get the inside scoop about our business from Molly.” Claire leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Don’t make me beg. If you have a solution, I won’t dismiss it out of hand, I promise. I’m not an idiot. We need income. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the doors open.”
Steffi went still, her chin just above the mug held midair. “Whatever it takes?”
Claire’s hair stood on end, but she motioned “Let’s have it” with both hands.
Steffi hesitated. “How would you like to redecorate a high-end condo in Chelsea?”
“In the city?” Her entire body prickled painfully at the thought of putting herself in the midst of that chaos and danger. She’d already been one madman’s random victim. Manhattan teemed with crazy people, not the least of whom were the ones who drove their cars like heat-seeking missiles. “Who’d hire us instead of any of the premier designers there?”
Steffi met Claire’s gaze. “Logan.”
Claire’s tongue seemed to swell and turn sticky. Work with Logan . . . Her blood thickened like warm syrup. Tingles and terror all at once—a sensation she both loved and loathed. Her own brand of crazy. Maybe she did belong in New York, after all. “No.”
“You just said you’d do whatever it takes.”
“Not that. Never that.” Claire didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that her fair, lightly freckled cheeks now looked like someone had smeared them with ripe strawberries.
