Last One Home
Page 29
“So I heard.”
They rounded the corner to their new home and Cassie sat up straighter. “What are all those cars doing parked outside the house?” she asked.
“Someone must be having a party,” Steve said, completely deadpan.
“Steve?” Something was up, and Cassie didn’t doubt for a moment that he was behind it. “What’s going on?”
“Just a few friends.”
Amiee’s arm shot out. “Is that Aunt Karen’s car?”
Cassie looked closer and her heart started to race. She recognized several cars. Teresa’s and Rosie’s, Shelly and George Young’s, and several others.
Cassie pressed her fingertips over her lips. “Look at all these people,” she whispered. A bright red ribbon was stretched across the front door, with a huge bow centered there. The garage door was open and long tables had been set up with folding chairs. There appeared to be a mountain of food and serving dishes.
“Who brought all the food?” Cassie asked, turning to look at Steve.
He grinned and looked proud of himself. “Everyone contributed. This is a celebration, and we couldn’t very well let the day pass without—”
“Celebrating,” Amiee supplied.
“Exactly.”
Cassie had trouble believing this many people would take time from their busy schedules to share this moment with her.
“This was your doing, wasn’t it, Steve?”
“I helped. We all pitched in. We love you, Cassie. Each one of us in our own way. You’ve touched our hearts, given of yourself, and become an important part of our lives. A very important part of mine.” He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “I love you, Cassie. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
“If no one thought of it, you could buy me a bucket of KFC,” Amiee told him, completely serious.
“I believe, my dear Amiee, that you’ll find several buckets waiting for you this very day. I’m not much of a cook, and when Shelly suggested a potluck, I knew exactly what you’d enjoy most.”
Steve parked the car and Cassie wiped the tears out of her eyes. Amiee opened the passenger door and climbed down, racing toward her friends and the food. Cassie followed, and as soon as her friends saw her, they applauded.
The prayer and ribbon-cutting ceremony took only a few minutes, and then Cassie was handed the keys to the home she had spent so many hours building. And there on the south side of the house was space for a garden. Cassie looked again.
“Steve, is that a gazebo at the side of the house?”
He grinned. “Could be!”
“But it wasn’t there two days ago. How did … When … Who?” Silly question. Cassie knew it had to have been Steve.
He grinned again. “I had help. Are you surprised? I remembered you telling me your parents had one.”
Later, as the keys were placed in her hand, Cassie closed her fist around the cold metal and smiled. Her family and friends gathered around her as she lifted her eyes toward heaven and thanked God for this moment. It was then that she realized that she was truly and finally home.
To Roberta Stalberg,
dear friend, fellow author and knitter,
traveling companion,
and
plotting partner
BALLANTINE BOOKS FROM DEBBIE MACOMBER
ROSE HARBOR INN
Love Letters
Rose Harbor in Bloom
The Inn at Rose Harbor
BLOSSOM STREET
Blossom Street Brides
Starting Now
CHRISTMAS BOOKS
Mr. Miracle
Starry Night
Angels at the Table
STAND-ALONE NOVEL
Last One Home
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEBBIE MACOMBER, the author of Last One Home, Mr. Miracle, Love Letters, Blossom Street Brides, Starry Night, Rose Harbor in Bloom, Starting Now, Angels at the Table, and The Inn at Rose Harbor, is a leading voice in women’s fiction. Nine of her novels have hit #1 on the New York Times bestseller list, with three debuting at #1 on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly lists. In 2009 and 2010, Mrs. Miracle and Call Me Mrs. Miracle were the Hallmark Channel’s top-watched movies for the year. In 2013, the Hallmark Channel produced the original series Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove, as well as the original movie Mr. Miracle, based on Debbie’s holiday novel by the same name. Debbie Macomber has more than 170 million copies of her books in print worldwide.
www.debbiemacomber.com