Lonestar Angel

by Colleen Coble

  Erin Healy has edited all of my Thomas Nelson books except one, and she is such an integral part of the team. Her ideas always make the book better, and she’s a fabulous writer in her own right. If you haven’t read her yet, be sure to pick up Never Let You Go, The Promises She Keeps, and The Baker’s Wife.

  My agent, Karen Solem, has helped shape my career in many ways, and that includes kicking an idea to the curb when necessary. Thanks, Karen, you’re the best!

  Writing can be a lonely business, but God has blessed me with great writing friends and critique partners. Hannah Alexander (Cheryl Hodde), Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter make up the Girls Write Out squad (www.GirlsWriteOut.blogspot.com). I couldn’t make it through a day without my peeps! Thanks to all of you for the work you do on my behalf, and for your friendship. I had great brainstorming help for this book in Robin Caroll. Thank you, friends!

  I’m so grateful for my husband, Dave, who carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and chases down dinner without complaint. As I type this, today is the first day of his retirement. Now he will have more time for those things—and more. Thanks, honey! I couldn’t do anything without you. My kids—Dave, Kara (and now Donna and Mark)—and my grandsons, James and Jorden Packer, love and support me in every way possible. Love you guys! Donna and Dave brought me the delight of my life—our little granddaughter, Alexa! This year at Christmas she was interested in watching her Mimi sign copies for her daddy to give away. When I told her that Mimi wrote the books, I’m sure I saw shock in her face. Okay, maybe I’m reading too much into her little two-year-old mind, but she will soon understand what her Mimi does for a living.

  Most importantly, I give my thanks to God, who has opened such amazing doors for me and makes the journey a golden one.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. It’s said a child’s early experiences shape their personality when they’re grown. What experience do you think was most instrumental in shaping Eden?

  2. Losing a child is one of the hardest things a marriage can suffer. What could Eden and Clay have done to have been able to get through the pain of losing Brianna?

  3. Clay never gave up on finding Brianna. Why do you think he was so steadfast?

  4. What was the base problem in Eden and Clay’s marriage?

  5. At first Eden was determined to preserve her perfect image. Why do you think what other people thought mattered so much to her?

  6. Why do you think Clay never got rid of his childhood home?

  7. Why do you think God allows pain in our lives?

  8. Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?

  An excerpt from The Lightkeeper’s Ball

  THE NEW YORK BROWNSTONE WAS JUST HALF A BLOCK DOWN FROM THE ASTOR MANSION ON Fifth Avenue, the most prestigious address in the country. The carriage, monogrammed with the Stewart emblem, rattled through the iron gates and came to a halt in front of the ornate doors. Assisted by the doorman, Olivia Stewart descended and rushed for the steps of her home. She was late for tea, and her mother would be furious. Mrs. Astor herself had agreed to join them today.

  Olivia handed her hat to the maid, who opened the door. “They’re in the drawing room, Miss Olivia,” Goldia whispered. “Your mama is ready to pace the floor.”

  Olivia patted at her hair, straightened her shoulders, and pinned a smile in place as she forced her stride to a ladylike stroll to join the other women. Two women turned to face her as she entered: her mother and Mrs. Astor. They wore identical expressions of disapproval.

  “Olivia, there you are,” her mother said. “Sit down before your tea gets cold.”

  Olivia pulled off her gloves as she settled into the Queen Anne chair beside Mrs. Astor. “I apologize for my tardiness,” she said. “A lorry filled with tomatoes overturned in the street, and my driver couldn’t get around it.”

  Mrs. Astor’s face cleared. “Of course, my dear.” She sipped her tea from the delicate blue-and-white china. “Your dear mother and I were just discussing your prospects. It’s time you married.”

  Oh dear. She’d hoped to engage in light conversation that had nothing to do with the fact that she was twenty-five and still unmarried. Her unmarried state distressed her if she let it, but every man her father brought to her wanted only her status. She doubted any of them had ever looked into her soul. “I’m honored you would care about my marital status, Mrs. Astor,” Olivia said.

  “Mrs. Astor wants to hold a ball in your honor, Olivia,” her mother gushed. “She has a distant cousin coming to town whom she wants you to meet.”

  Mrs. Astor nodded. “I believe you and Matthew would suit. He owns property just down the street.”

  Olivia didn’t mistake the reference to the man’s money. Wealth would be sure to impact her mother. She opened her mouth to ask if the man was her age, then closed it at the warning glint in her mother’s eyes.

  “He’s been widowed for fifteen years and is long overdue for a suitable wife,” Mrs. Astor said.

  Olivia barely suppressed a sigh. So he was another of the decrepit gentlemen who showed up from time to time. “You’re very kind,” she said.

  “He’s most suitable,” her mother said. “Most suitable.”

  Olivia caught the implication. They spent the next half hour discussing the date and the location. She tried to enter into the conversation with interest, but all she could do was imagine some gray-whiskered blue blood dancing her around the ballroom. She stifled a sigh of relief when Mrs. Astor took her leave and called for her carriage.

  “I’ll be happy when you’re settled, Olivia,” her mother said when they returned to the drawing room. “Mrs. Astor is most kind.”

  “She is indeed.” Olivia pleated her skirt with her fingers. “Do you ever wish you could go somewhere incognito, Mother? Where no one has expectations of you because you are a Stewart?”

  Her mother put down her saucer with a clatter. “Whatever are you babbling about, my dear?”

  “Haven’t you noticed that people look at us differently because we’re Stewarts? How is a man ever to love me for myself when all he sees is what my name can gain him? Men never see inside to the real me. They notice only that I’m a Stewart.”

  “Have you been reading those novels again?” Her mother sniffed and narrowed her gaze on Olivia. “Marriage is about making suitable connections. You owe it to your future children to consider the life you give them. Love comes from respect. I would find it quite difficult to respect someone who didn’t have the gumption to make his way in the world. Besides, we need you to marry well. You’re twenty-five years old and I’ve indulged your romantic notions long enough. Heaven knows your sister’s marriage isn’t what I had in mind, essential though it may be. Someone has to keep the family name in good standing.”

  Olivia knew what her duty demanded, but she didn’t have to like it. “Do all the suitable men have to be in their dotage?”

  Her mother’s eyes sparked fire, but before she spoke, Goldia appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Bennett is here, Mrs. Stewart.”

  Olivia straightened in her chair. “Show him in. He’ll have news of Eleanor.”

  Bennett appeared in the doorway moments later. He shouldn’t have been imposing. He stood only five foot three in his shoes, which were always freshly polished. He was slim, nearly gaunt, with a patrician nose and obsidian eyes. He’d always reminded Olivia of a snake about to strike. His expression never betrayed any emotion, and today was no exception. She’d never understood why her father entertained an acquaintance with the man, let alone desired their families to be joined.

  “Mr. Bennett.” She rose and extended her hand and tried not to flinch as he brushed his lips across it.

  “Miss Olivia,” he said, releasing her hand. He moved to her mother’s chair and bowed over her extended hand.

  Olivia sank back into her chair. “What do you hear of my sister? I have received no answer to any of my letters.”

  He took a seat, steepled his
fingers, and leaned forward. “That’s the reason for our meeting today. I fear I have bad news to impart.”

  Her pulse thumped erratically against her rib cage. She wet her lips and drew in a deep breath. “What news of Eleanor?” How bad could it be? Eleanor had gone to marry Harrison, a man she hardly knew. But she was in love with the idea of the Wild West, and therefore more than happy to marry the son of her father’s business partner.

  He never blinked. “I shall just have to blurt it out then. I’m sorry to inform you that Eleanor is dead.”

  Her mother moaned. Olivia stared at him. “I don’t believe it,” she said.

  “I know, it’s a shock.”

  There must have been some mistake. She searched his face for some clue that this was a jest. “What happened?”

  He didn’t hold her gaze. “She drowned.”

  “How?”

  “No one knows. I’m sorry.”

  Her mother stood and swayed. “What are you saying?” Her voice rose in a shriek. “Eleanor can’t be dead! Are you quite mad?”

  He stood and took her arm. “I suggest you lie down, Mrs. Stewart. You’re quite pale.”

  Her mother put her hands to her cheeks. “Tell me it isn’t true,” she begged. Then she keeled over in a dead faint.

  An excerpt from Smitten

  NATALIE MANSFIELD’S HEART SWELLED AS SHE STOOD ON THE PERIMETER OF THE TOWN square and watched her niece and the other children decorate the town for Easter. A gigantic smile stretched across five-year-old Mia’s face as her Sunday school teacher lifted her to place the lavender wreath at the top of the clock.

  Mia saw her and waved. “Aunt Nat, look at me!”

  Natalie waved back, her smile broadening. “She’s growing so fast,” she told her aunt, Rose Garner. “I love her so much.”

  Black threaded Rose’s silver hair, and her smooth skin made her look twenty years younger than her sixty-two years. “I still remember the first day I laid eyes on you.”

  “How could you forget? I was a morose ten-year-old who snapped your head off every time you spoke to me.”

  Her aunt pressed her hand. “You changed our lives, honey. We were three lonely spinsters until you showed up. Now here you are providing a home for your niece. A full circle, just like that wreath. I’m so proud of you.”

  Her aunt’s words made Natalie’s heart fill to bursting. “You gave me the only stability I’d ever known. I want to do the same for Mia.”

  Aunt Rose wasn’t listening. A small frown creased her brow. “Something’s wrong.”

  Natalie looked at the men standing a few feet away in front of the hardware store. Their heads were down and their shoulders slumped. The dejection in their stances sent her pulse racing.

  She recognized one of her coffee shop patrons, Murphy Clinton, and grabbed his arm as he walked past. “What’s happened, Murphy?” she asked.

  He stopped and stared down at her with a grave expression. “The mill’s closing.”

  “That’s not possible,” she mumbled. Her thoughts raced. The mill was an institution and the main employer in Smitten. If it closed . . .

  He finished her thought. “This town is finished.”

  The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee overpowered the less appetizing smell from the drum roaster in the back room. Natalie let her employee Zoe handle the customers at the bar, as Natalie took the hot beverages to the seating area by the window where she and her friends could see white-topped Sugarcreek Mountain. Spring had come to their part of Vermont, and the sight of the wildflowers on the lower slopes would give her strength.

  “So what are we going to do?” she asked, sinking onto the overstuffed leather sofa beside Reese Mackenzie.

  “Do? What can we do?” Reese asked. Her blond ponytail gleamed in the shaft of sunlight through the window. She was the practical one in the group. Reese was never afraid of hard work, but while Natalie saw only the end goal, Reese saw the pitfalls right on the path. “We can’t make them keep the mill open.”

  While rumors about the mill had been floating for months, no one had really believed it would fold. The ramifications would be enormous. Natalie’s business had been struggling enough without this added blow.

  She took a sip of her mocha java. A little bitter. She’d have to tweak the roast a bit next time. “If the mill closes, the town will dry up and blow away. We can’t let that happen.” If Mountain Perks closed, she didn’t know how she would provide for Mia.

  And she wasn’t leaving Smitten. Not ever. After being yanked from pillar to post with an alcoholic mother until she was ten, Natalie craved the stability she had found here with her aunts and her friends.

  Julia Bourne tossed her long hair away from her face, revealing flawless skin that never needed makeup. “This is one of those things outside your control, Nat. I guess we’d all better be looking for jobs in Stowe.”

  Shelby Evans took a sip of her tea and shivered. Her Shih-poo, Penelope, dressed in a fashionable blue-and-white polka-dotted shirt, turned around in Shelby’s lap and lay down on her navy slacks. “I don’t know about you all,” Shelby said, “but I wanted my kids to grow up here.”

  The women had no children of their own—and none of them was even close to thinking about settling down—but that was a moot point for Shelby. She had a storybook ending in mind that included a loving husband and two-point-five children for each of them. Natalie was sure her friend would find that life too.

  Natalie moved restlessly. “There has to be something we can do. Some new export. Maple syrup, maybe? We have lots of trees.” She glanced at Julia. “What about your New York friends? Maybe you could ask some of your business friends for advice?”

  Julia shrugged her slim shoulders. “They know spas. I hardly think a spa is going to save us.”

  Reese had those thoughtful lines on her forehead. A tiny smile hovered on her full lips, and her hazel eyes showed a plan was forming. “We don’t have time for exports, but what about imports? Tourists would love us if they’d come visit. We have heart.” She took out her ever-present notebook and pen and began to jot down ideas.

  “They come to ski in Stowe anyway,” Shelby said. “All we have to do is get them here.”

  Natalie rubbed her forehead where it had begun to ache. “But what do we have to offer that’s different from any other town?”

  Julia crossed her shapely ankles. “Smitten is cute with its church and all, but cute doesn’t bring tourists. I can’t even get a decent manicure in this dinky town. People aren’t going to pay for ambience. We need some kind of gimmick.”

  Reese tapped her pen against her chin. “I have an idea,” she said. “Everyone jokes about the town name. Why not capitalize on it?”

  “How do you capitalize on a name like Smitten?”

  “What does Smitten make you think of?” Reese asked. “Love, right? What if we turn the town into a place for honeymooners?”

  Shelby adjusted the bow on Penelope’s head. “I went to Santa Claus, Indiana, once. Tons of people, even in July.”

  Natalie swallowed a groan. They’d all heard about Santa Claus too many times to count. She needed to derail Shelby before she broke into a rendition of “Jingle Bells.” “We could have love songs playing as people strolled the streets.”

  Julia snickered and nodded toward the man striding past outside the window. “I have a feeling Carson would have something to say about that. He hated all the jokes about his name in high school.”

  Natalie followed the angle of Julia’s nod. Her gut clenched the way it always did when she saw Carson Smitten. He was a man who attracted female attention wherever he went. He looked like his lumberjack great-grandfather, with his broad shoulders and closely-cropped dark hair.

  He had all the single women in town drooling over him. Except for Natalie, of course. If the other girls knew what she knew about him, they wouldn’t think he was so great.

  “I’m still thinking about my idea,” Reese said. “This will mean new businesses,
new jobs, lots of revenue pouring in. We’d have to get the entire town on board.”

  Natalie’s excitement level went up a notch as she imagined the town transformed with its new mission. “The town meeting is coming up. I can present the idea there.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re a selectperson,” Shelby said. “People listen to you.”

  Natalie dug paper and a pen from her purse, a Brighton that Julia had given her for her last birthday. “There needs to be a cohesive plan. What would this love town look like? Besides romantic songs playing over speakers around town.” She peered at Reese’s list and copied down the items.

  Shelby retied Penelope’s bow. “We need a lingerie shop that sells perfume,” she said. “Chocolates. Some plush hotels and bed-and-breakfasts with tubs for two.” Her smile grew larger. “Maybe old-fashioned lampposts along the path around the lake. You could put outside tables on the street and white lights in the trees. Flower boxes all around town.”

  “And we’ll need more restaurants,” Julia added.

  Natalie eyed her. “You said a good manicure was impossible to find. What if you started a spa?”

  Julia’s perfectly plucked brows lifted. She grabbed the tablet and pen from Natalie. “I don’t know. I’d like to move back to New York eventually.”

  “The honeymooners won’t spend all their time in their rooms,” Reese said, her eyes gleaming. “We offer great outdoor activities. The skiing here is as good as anywhere in the country. People just don’t know about us.” She gestured toward the mountain. “And look at that view.”

  Natalie groaned. “The last thing I’d want to do on my honeymoon is go skiing. I’d rather sit holding hands across a linen tablecloth with a lobster in front of me.”

  “But I’d go skiing in a heartbeat,” Reese said. “Our big draw is our outdoor beauty. We don’t have an outfitters shop. We’d need that.” She jotted it down on her paper. “You know how I’ve been saving for a shop like that for years. Maybe now is the time.”