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.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
PRAISE FOR SECRETLY HERS
“[I]n Beck’s ambitious, uplifting second Sterling Canyon contemporary . . . [c]onflicting 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
“An 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 WHEN YOU KNEW
“[A]n opposites-attract romance with heart.”
—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
“The Memory of You is heartbreaking, emotional, entertaining, and a unique second-chance romance.”
—Harlequin Junkie
PRAISE FOR THE PROMISE OF US
“Beck’s depiction of trauma, loss, friendship, and family resonates deeply. A low-key small-town romance unflinching in its portrayal of the complexities of friendship and family, and the joys and sorrows they bring.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A fully absorbing and unfailingly entertaining read.”
—Midwest Book Review
PRAISE FOR THE WONDER OF NOW
“The Wonder of Now is emotional, it is uplifting, it is heartbreaking, but ultimately shows the reader the best of humanity in a heartfelt story.”
—The Nerd Daily
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
The Promise of Us
The Wonder of Now
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 © 2020 by Write Ideas, LLC
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, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542008716
ISBN-10: 1542008719
Cover design by David Drummond
This one is for Ria and Bobby, whose wild new life gave me the idea for this story. Thankfully, they are merely thrill seekers, not criminals.
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EXCERPT: TRUTH OF THE MATTER
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
AMANDA
There ought to be a warning anytime you wake up on a day that will forever change your life. Some harbinger—like a robin, lightning bolt, or black cat—so you don’t find yourself blindsided. This morning’s brilliant sunshine hadn’t exactly screamed, “Beware, today you’ll discover that the most destructive lies are the ones you tell yourself.”
If anything, the clear blue sky promised a perfect spring day. And so, blissfully ignorant, I stopped at Sugar Momma’s on my way home from my routine three-mile walk along Chesapeake Bay. Normally I’d never order a peanut butter–chocolate chunk cookie the size of a dessert plate and a decaffeinated salted-caramel latte with extra whipped cream before nine o’clock in the morning. I’d promised Lyle I�
��d be good, for the baby’s sake. But my husband had been away on business all week. While I wouldn’t recommend that anyone lie to a spouse, in this case, I figured what Lyle didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
Honestly, I deserved this little—or not so little—cheat. The pressure of putting together his new company’s first real estate development deal was turning my mostly charming husband into a male version of Martha Stewart on steroids. So much so that I almost wished he’d return to his former job: at Chesapeake Properties he’d been a successful commercial broker with less stress.
Lately most of my attempts to alleviate his anxiety had backfired. Thank God I had my mom as a sounding board when his moods blew cold. The day after our last argument three weeks ago, Lyle had come home with a small gift—his standard means of making amends—a silver pinkie ring. Not to complain about his generosity, but I couldn’t recall a single “I’m sorry” since we’d met. I’d prefer an apology to a makeup present, but we ended up in the same place either way.
I broke off a section of the still-warm cookie and took a nibble, and my eyelids drooped from cocoa-infused ecstasy. “Oh my goodness, Hannah. This is delicious.”
Everything about her and her bakeshop intrigued me, making it my favorite discovery since moving into our new house back in December. The turquoise, gold, and red decor mimicked the bold colors she draped across her generous figure. Crimson lips framed her larger-than-life smile, which made her look younger than the fifty or so years I guessed she was. And she gathered all her blonde-and-pink braids into a single ponytail that was as thick as a fire hose.
I didn’t know Hannah as well as I would’ve liked. We spoke only here, where her animated personality filled the shop with upbeat energy. When I’d sensed her keeping me in the “patron” box, I gave up my attempts at friendship. Yet I often wondered about her life. Pictured her in a busy home kitchen, testing recipes. Imagined her knitting her handmade shawls and vests. Most of all, I questioned what kind of partner could handle all her vivacity.
Not someone like Lyle. He preferred white tablecloths and efficient waiters to an eclectic shop like this—with its mismatched tables and chairs, folk art, and hipster music—but I found the vibe here warm and inviting. A friendly sort of place where you could exhale.
Hannah layered whipped cream on my coffee while winking at me. “Amanda, get yourself another cookie. You’re eating for two.”
I shook my head, begging off. “I need to watch myself.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She tsk-tsked, then proceeded to squirt a liberal amount of liquid caramel atop the whipped cream.
“I know, but it’s important to Lyle.” When I rubbed my six-month bump, our daughter kicked my hand. My heart swelled. Two years ago I couldn’t have imagined anything would eclipse the joy of my wedding day, yet our growing family made each day brighter and everything seem possible. “This morning’s little detour has to stay our secret.”
Hannah handed me the coffee, grinning. “That’s exactly what he always says.”
Wait, what?
“He does, does he?” Then why has he acted like he hates this place? I chomped on the cookie, wondering why he’d kept his visits here a secret.
I couldn’t exactly ask him when I was planning to keep my visit a secret. On the other hand, it wouldn’t need to be a secret if I weren’t appeasing my overanxious husband. In fairness his concern for our welfare made me feel cherished. Still . . .
“Haven’t seen Lyle all week. Where’s he been hiding?” Hannah raised her brows while she waited.
I choked on the cookie. Did he really stop in that often? “Away on business.”
Hannah had to be exaggerating. Given Lyle’s current obsession with diet and exercise, Sugar Momma’s heavy aroma of vanilla and butter alone should make him run in the opposite direction.
“Mm, that man works hard. He always looks sharp in his jacket and tie. A man with goals, am I right?” Hannah chuckled, a rich, resonant sound that warmed the soul, like her latte. “He keeps offering to find me a cheaper space in town, but I like this location.”
“Don’t you dare move, Hannah. This shop is perfect for you.” I hoped she couldn’t see how baffled I was to be learning these things about my own husband.
“That’s what I tell him.”
“I’m sorry he’s pestering you. He’s hyperfocused on his new business.” I’d lost count of the skipped dinners and early-morning meetings. Financial freedom might be nice, but I didn’t need a big bank account to be happy. I did need him.
“Well, you know men. They want to provide.”
I’d always suspected his relentless drive to prove himself sprang from his mom’s abandonment. No one would call Lyle easy to live with, but my heart ached whenever I thought of the cruelty he suffered in childhood. If healing that wound required me to tiptoe around his feelings or defer to his whims now and then, I would do so happily. He’d taken the leap of trust that I would not leave him like his mother had, so he deserved my devotion.
“He’s excited about getting an inside line on some condo development in South Florida. Apparently it’s a ‘booming’ market. I hope we don’t have to move there, though. I grew up here in Potomac Point, and my mom’s recently widowed and . . . Oh, I don’t know. I have torn loyalties, I suppose.” I suspected Hannah had lost interest in my rambling, so I stopped.
“Well, good luck to you.” She wiped up the whipped cream spatter on the counter.
“Thank you.” A bell jingled behind me, and I turned to greet two other women who’d entered the shop. “Hello, Barb. How are you?”
Barb lived on my block. Divorced after five years of marriage, she and her ex-husband, Lenny, shared one preschooler, Collin. She’d kept the house, while Lenny had moved closer to Baltimore and saw his son only every other weekend.
“Hey, Amanda.” Barb smiled. “This is my friend Sandy Bello. Sandy, this is Amanda Foster, my neighbor and Collin’s nursery school teacher.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shook Sandy’s hand, but my thoughts ran to little Collin and the extra attention I’d been giving him while he adjusted to his new family dynamic. He was not my first or only student facing that confusing upheaval. Some kids handled it better than others.
While Collin still struggled, Barb’s mood had improved since her divorce. In fact, at the moment, she and Sandy shone with the contentment that comes from true friendship. I recognized that look from the faces of a lot of the young moms who made playdates for their kids and spa dates for themselves.
In my experience, the young moms tended to view us teachers as “other.” Granted, I did know embarrassing truths about many of them. Kids overshare in the cutest ways. But soon I’d be invited into that circle of women, or at least I hoped so. I could use the support as I waded into motherhood, because my two best friends from high school both relocated to other states after college and we’d fallen out of touch. As something of an introvert, I enjoyed cordial relationships with my coworkers, but we never shared intimacies. My sister was still single and childless—unless you counted her cute little dog, Mo—so she couldn’t commiserate with the ups and downs of marriage and pregnancy. Besides, Erin had never had much patience for the things that worried me.
Barb placed a palm to her cheek. “I don’t know how you handle all those toddlers at once. I’d go crazy.”
“Well, it’s only three mornings each week, so I get plenty of time to recharge.” I smiled, accustomed to these types of comments, though they always surprised me. Kids’ brutal honesty beat any comic’s jokes, and who could ever get enough sticky-fingered hugs?
When Barb didn’t invite me to join them, I said, “Don’t let me keep you. Order up. I can vouch for the cookies.” I waved the remains of mine and then took a seat at the smallest café table—my favorite despite its wobbly leg. Shellacked postcards from exotic destinations like Tanzania, Brazil, and Alaska decorated its buttercup-yellow tabletop. I’d yet to ask Hannah if she’d been to these places or if
she’d merely bought the table from someone else—I didn’t believe in prying into people’s personal lives without invitation. In today’s social media–driven society, privacy was a treasured currency.
I scrolled through my phone. Nothing from Lyle since his late-night text. He’d asked me not to interrupt him during business hours, but we’d never gone a whole day without speaking. As soon as I got home, I’d call to make sure everything was okay.
The overhead speakers pumped out the twangy sound of Iron & Wine’s “What Hurts Worse,” a song I recognized only because my dad and Erin were music aficionados. One of many interests they’d shared. For my first four years of life, I’d been my dad’s “little star.” But then Erin was born, and by the time she turned three, she’d become his sun.
I traced the lumpy edge of the postcard from Brazil, one of many countries I hoped to visit. I’d almost spent a semester in London during my junior year of college, but then Erin had wrapped our dad around her finger, like always. After she’d graduated from high school—with no plans to attend college—she convinced him to underwrite her backpacking adventure through Europe to get a “real world” education.
Poof . . . another of my plans upended by her.
She hadn’t meant to screw up my dream. She wasn’t mean-spirited, just high-spirited. And it had been only fair of Dad to give her that money when he’d been helping with my and our brother Kevin’s tuition. But if Erin had shared her intentions sooner, I would’ve worked a second summer job to save enough money to afford the semester abroad.
Then again, expecting Erin to plan anything in advance was pointless. She woke up every day and made random decisions, then strung those days together one by one and called it a life. I spent more time worrying for her future than she did, but the only person from whom she’d ever tolerated any advice is our father. Was . . . was our father.
Laughter caught my attention. Hannah was being folksy with Barb and Sandy, completely comfortable in her own skin. I could envy her for that, but for some reason it didn’t niggle me as much with her as it did with my sister.
On her way out of the store, Barb called to me, “See you at drop-off tomorrow!”
I smiled and waved, while Hannah busied herself with the coffee maker.
