by Regina Hart
“Thank you.”
Doreen gave him a knowing smile. “The elementary school was grateful for your generous donation. I take it that was the check from your guest? Are you sure you don’t need that money to reinvest in the repairs?”
“The school needs the money more. I appreciate your stopping by, Doreen.” He turned to leave.
“Jack. You know why I’m here.” Doreen sounded exasperated.
Good. He could handle exasperation. Pity pissed him off.
He faced her again. “You know my answer.”
“The town will be one hundred and fifty years old in August. That’ll be a momentous occasion, and everyone wants you to be a part of it.”
Jackson shook his head. “You don’t need me.”
“Yes, we do.” Doreen’s tone was dogged determination. “This sesquicentennial is a chance for Trinity Falls to raise its profile in the county and across the state. You, of all people, must have a role in the Founders Day celebration.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.” Doreen leaned into the desk. “This event, if done well, will bring in extra revenue.”
“I know about the town’s budget concerns. I have an online subscription to The Trinity Falls Monitor.” Reading the paper online saved Jackson from having to go into town or deal with a newspaper delivery person.
Doreen continued as though Jackson hadn’t spoken. “If we host a large celebration with high-profile guests, we’ll attract more people. These tourists will stay in our hotels, eat in our restaurants and buy our souvenirs.”
“Great. Good luck with that.” He checked his watch for emphasis. It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon. “Anything else?”
She softened her voice. “I know that you’re still grieving Zoe’s death.”
“Don’t.” The air drained from the room.
“I can’t imagine how devastated you must feel at the loss of your daughter.”
“Doreen.” He choked out her name.
“We understand you need time to grieve. But, Jack, it’s not healthy to close yourself off from human contact. People care about you. We can help you.”
“Can you bring her back?” The words were harsh, rough and raw.
Doreen looked stricken. “I can no more bring back your daughter than I can resurrect my late husband.”
Paul Fever had died from cancer more than a year ago. He’d been sixty-seven. In contrast, leukemia had cut Jackson’s daughter’s life tragically short.
Jackson struggled to reel in his emotions. “People grieve in different ways.”
Pity reappeared in Doreen’s warm brown eyes. “I went through the same feelings. But, Jack, at some point, you have to rejoin society.”
“Not today.” Some days, he feared he’d never be ready.
The persistent ringing shattered Audra’s dream. She blinked her eyes open. Had she fallen asleep?
Her gaze dropped to the song stanzas scribbled across the notebook on her lap. Had it been the red-eye flight or her lyrics that lulled her to sleep?
She stretched forward to grab her cell phone. “Hello?”
“Did we wake you?” Her mother asked after a pause.
Audra heard the surprise in the question. “It was a long trip.” She refused to believe her writing had put her to sleep. “Is everything OK?”
Ellen Prince Lane sighed. “That’s what we’re calling to find out. We thought you were going to call us when you arrived at the resort.”
“I sent you a text when I landed.” Audra scrubbed a hand across her eyes, wiping away the last remnants of fatigue.
“A text is not a phone call.” Ellen spoke with exaggerated patience. “How do we know that someone didn’t kidnap you and send that text to delay our reporting you missing?”
Audra rolled her eyes. Her mother read too many true-crime novels. Her father wouldn’t have suspected foul play was behind a text from her.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“This whole idea worries me.” Her mother made fretting noises. “Why couldn’t you have stayed in Brentwood to write your songs? Why did you have to go to some resort in Ohio?”
Audra wanted to laugh. No one would mistake Harmony Cabins for a resort. But this probably wasn’t a good time to tell that to her mother.
“We discussed this, Mom. Benita thought a change of scenery would cure my writer’s block.” And even though she had her doubts, Audra didn’t want to add to her parents’ worries.
Ellen tsked. “How long will you be gone?”
They’d discussed that, too. “About a month.”
“You’ve never been away from home that long.”
“I know, Mom.”
“You don’t even know anything about that resort.”
“Benita’s friend owns the cabins. I’m sure I’ll be comfortable here.”
“How will you eat?”
“There’s a town nearby. I’ll pick up some groceries in the morning.”
“What do they eat there?”
Audra closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “I’m in Ohio, Mom. It’s not a foreign country. I’m sure I’ll find something familiar in the town’s grocery store.”
Ellen sniffed. “There’s no need to take that tone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Your father’s very worried about you, Audra.”
Yet her mother was the one on the phone. “Tell Dad I’ll be fine. The cabin is clean and safe. There are locks on all the doors and windows. I’ll be home before you know it.” She hoped.
Audra looked toward the windows beside the front door. She needed curtains. She didn’t like the idea of the windows being uncovered, especially at night. She’d feel too exposed. She checked her wristwatch. It wasn’t quite three in the afternoon. It wouldn’t be dark until closer to nine P.M. She had a few hours to figure something out for tonight.
Her mother’s lengthy sigh interrupted her planning. “Your father wants to talk with you. Maybe he can get you to see reason.”
Audra rubbed her eyes with her thumb and two fingers. This experiment was hard enough without her mother’s overprotectiveness.
“My Grammy Award–winning daughter!” Randall Lane boomed his greeting into the telephone. He’d been calling her that since February when she’d been presented with the award for Song of the Year. Before that, she’d been his Grammy Award–nominated daughter.
Audra settled back into the overstuffed leather sofa. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Will you be home in time for my birthday?”
She frowned. Her father’s birthday was in October. It was only July. “Of course.”
“That’s all that matters.”
“Randall! Give me back that phone!” Ellen’s screech crossed state lines.
“Your mother wants to speak to you again. Have a nice time in Ohio, baby.”
Her mother was as breathless as though she’d chased her father across the room. “Aren’t there coyotes and bears in Ohio? And mountain lions?”
Audra’s heart stopped with her mother’s questions. She was a West Coast city woman in the wilds of the Midwest. Talk about being a fish out of water.
She swallowed to loosen the wad of fear lodged in her throat. “They don’t come near the cabins.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” she lied. “I’ll be fine.”
“I think you should come home, Audra. What does Benita know about writer’s block? She’s your business manager, not a writer. I’m your mother. I know what you need. You need rest.”
Her mother had a point. Audra hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since she’d taken the Grammy home.
She stood and paced past the front windows. “Benita may be right. Maybe I need to get completely out of my comfort zone to jump-start my songwriting.”
Ellen sniffed again. “Well, I disagree. And so does Wallace.”
Audra stilled at the mention of her treacherous ex-boyfriend. They’d
broken up more than a month ago. Her mother knew that. “Why are you talking with him? What does he have to do with anything?”
“He wants to apologize to you. He wants your forgiveness.”
That made up her mind. She was definitely staying at the Harmony Cabins for at least a month. “Please don’t tell Wallace where I am. Even if I forgive him, we’re never getting back together.”
“You should give him another chance, Audra. He knows he’s made a mistake.”
“Wallace used me. I’m not giving him or anyone else the chance to do that again.”
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2013 by Patricia Sargeant-Matthews
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-8652-9
First Kensington Mass Market Edition: September 2013
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-8653-6
eISBN-10: 0-7582-8653-8
First Kensington Electronic Edition: September 2013
