by Jenny Hale
The Memory Keeper
a heartwarming, feel-good romance
Jenny Hale
Books by Jenny Hale
The House on Firefly Beach
Summer at Firefly Beach
The Summer Hideaway
The Summer House
Summer at Oyster Bay
Summer by the Sea
A Barefoot Summer
Christmas at Fireside Cabins
Christmas at Silver Falls
It Started With Christmas
We’ll Always Have Christmas
All I Want for Christmas
Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses
A Christmas to Remember
Coming Home for Christmas
Available in Audio
The House of Firefly Beach (available in the UK and the US)
Summer at Firefly Beach (available in the UK and the US)
The Summer Hideaway (available in the UK and the US)
The Summer House (available in the UK and the US)
Summer at Oyster Bay (available in the UK and the US)
Summer by the Sea (available in the UK and the US)
A Barefoot Summer (available in the UK and the US)
Christmas at Silver Falls (available in the UK and the US)
It Started With Christmas (available in the UK and the US)
We’ll Always Have Christmas (available in the UK and the US)
All I Want for Christmas (available in the UK and the US)
Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses (available in the UK and the US)
A Christmas to Remember (available in the UK and the US)
Coming Home for Christmas (available in the UK and the US)
Praise for Jenny Hale
One of “19 Dreamy Summer Romances to Whisk you Away”—Oprah Magazine on The Summer House
One of “30 Christmas Novels to Start Reading Now”—Southern Living Magazine on We’ll Always Have Christmas
Included in “Beach Reads Perfect for Summer 2020”—Southern Living Magazine on Summer at Firefly Beach
“Touching, fun-filled, and redolent with salt air and the fragrance of summer, this seaside tale is a perfect volume for most romance collections.”—Library Journal on The Summer House
“Hale’s impeccably executed contemporary romance is the perfect gift for readers who love sweetly romantic love stories imbued with all the warmth and joy of the holiday season.”—Booklist on Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses
“Authentic characters and a riveting story make it a keeper worth savoring.”—Publisher’s Weekly on The Summer House
“This sweet small-town romance will leave readers feeling warm all the way through.”—Publisher’s Weekly on It Started with Christmas
“Adorable contemporary romance… a tender treat that can be savored in any season.”—Publisher’s Weekly on Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Books By Jenny Hale
A Letter from Jenny
Acknowledgments
To the greats in this industry who nurtured and inspired me—and put up with me—you know who you are.
One
She’d made it.
“That’ll be thirty-eight bucks,” the taxi driver said, his breath puffing out into the winter air as he lumped the bags that Hannah Townsend had packed for herself and her boyfriend Miles onto a mound of sludge piled next to the sidewalk at LaGuardia airport.
“Thank you,” she said, preparing to make a run for it through the falling snow. She maneuvered around the clumps of winter road debris to hand the driver his fare with shivering fingers. It was icy cold outside, but Hannah barely noticed. Her pulse raced, eagerness zinging around inside her, all the while mentally counting down the seconds she was wasting standing there.
Hannah had to get to the baggage claim by the time Miles’s flight came in. Miles Monahan was owner and CEO of Monahan Enterprises, the leading developer of application programming interface technologies in New York City. ME, as he termed the company, was his spoiled child, he’d said. Miles spent all of his time building the company, nurturing it, and giving it everything it wanted, spending an obscene amount of time away from Hannah to focus on work. But it would all pay off in the end, he’d told her.
He was flying in to New York from Chicago, winding up one final business meeting just before he took some much-needed time off, which worked out perfectly because—he had no idea—Hannah was planning to reveal that they had two hours until their next flight.
As the newly appointed art director for Farmhouse Living magazine, Hannah had been working incredibly long hours as well. She’d taken time off of work, bought herself and Miles tickets to Barbados, and booked a glorious week at a luxury beachfront hotel. With temperatures in Barbados reaching a balmy eighty-four degrees in February, she couldn’t wait. She’d even reserved a couples massage the first day.
Hannah was turning the big thirty-five tomorrow, and she planned to tell Miles on this trip that she was ready to start a family. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise—they’d both mentioned it before, and he’d even stopped into Tiffany’s with her once while they were running errands to see what she’d like as an engagement ring—but he’d always put it off because of his work.
Hannah fiddled with the stargazer lily she’d tucked into her hair just above her ear. Tomorrow they’d be reclined side by side in lounge chairs, her arm stretched across the sand to hold his hand while they sipped on piña coladas and talked about the future. They were but a flight away from feeling the warmth of the sun and the only sounds around them being the quiet lapping of the waves—she couldn’t get there fast enough.
While she hopped up and down in little wiggles to keep warm, waiting for the traffic guard to signal that she could cross, her phone rang. She fumbled to get it out of her coat pocket, unsuccessful in her attempt to wipe the droplets of precipitation off the screen.
Mom.
Hannah would have to call her back. As soon as she reached Miles at baggage claim and told him the plan, she’d return the call.
The traffic guard waved Hannah across, so she dropped her phone back into her pocket and readjusted her bags, jogging as quickly as her wedge heels could take her on the slippery surface.
The airport terminal’s sliding doors hissed open and Hannah ran through, her head swiveling right and then left, looking past the red and pink Valentine’s displays for signs directing her to baggage claim. Once she spotted where to go, she dashed over to the elevator.
“Please wait!” she said to no one in particular, throwing her hand between the closing doors as they slid back open.
Hannah stepped through and pulled her bags into the crowded elevator to exhales and throat clearing, as everyone rearranged themselves to adjust
to less personal space. Her phone rang once more and she slipped her hand into her pocket to silence it. She peeked at the call: her mother again.
Her mom always got excited about Hannah’s birthday, and since this one was a milestone, she was probably antsy to have a long, sweet chat like she loved to do. Hannah couldn’t wait to talk to her, but she wanted to take the call when she had enough time to give her mother the attention she deserved.
The doors opened, and Hannah ran to the baggage claim turnstile that flashed Miles’s flight number from Chicago. Her shoulders relaxed when she arrived with a few minutes to spare. The conveyor belt hummed to life, the anticipation of the surprise making her buzzy.
Hannah had packed Miles’s bag for him, making sure to bring all his favorite summer attire. She’d even remembered the tennis visor he liked to wear on the beach to shield his eyes from the sun. Of course, Hannah had all her sundresses, the new upscale strappy sandals she’d bought for the summer season, and a super cute swimsuit she’d gotten online. All they had to buy once they got to Barbados were bottles of suntan lotion and fruity cocktails, which, according to the website, were both available at the poolside swim-up bar.
The plastic strips at the entrance separating the baggage crew from the turnstile shifted forward, and a couple of suitcases landed on the conveyor belt with a thud just as Hannah’s phone rang yet again. Her mother would be worried sick if she tried to get through to Hannah for a third time and she hadn’t answered.
“Hi, Mama,” she said, the southern accent of her youth bubbling to the surface. She opened her mouth to explain the reason for not answering the calls, but her mother’s sniffle gave her pause.
“What’s wrong?”
“Gran’s in the hospital,” her mother said, her words breathless. “She’s not doing well, Hannah. Your dad and I flew in late last night, and we’re staying at her house until we can get a handle on the situation. You need to come home as soon as you can to see her.”
Hannah leaned on her suitcase and hung her head, her whole body going limp. Guiltily, she considered the fact that she hadn’t been to her hometown for more than a quick pop-in for years, and she hadn’t actually stayed at Gran’s since she’d left for NYU when she was eighteen. The time had completely gotten away from her, and now the years she’d missed with Gran were crashing down with a slam.
“Oh no,” Hannah said.
Gran was never sick, and because of that, Hannah hadn’t prepared herself for the wave of fear that washed over her at the sound of her mother’s broken, panic-stricken words. Gran was the family matriarch, the solitary voice of wisdom, and the one who they all turned to when they needed support. At ninety-five, Gran was the picture of health, unbelievably still doing what she loved, running her flower shop on 110 Ivy Lane during limited hours, and promising never to retire, even though Hannah’s mother had confided in her that the place was a complete shambles, which was distressing to say the least.
“What’s the matter with her?” Hannah asked her mother, plugging her other ear to hear over the commotion, as the baggage claim area began filling with passengers rushing past her and grabbing their bags in a hurry.
“She collapsed on the street in town a couple of days ago. A neighbor called me, and your dad and I flew home right away to take her to the hospital. I wanted to get a final diagnosis before I worried you with it. I’ll tell you everything when you arrive, but you need to come now,” her mother said. “When can you be here?”
Hannah scrambled to force her brain to process this. “I’ll get a flight right away,” she said.
“Ethan’s been stopping by. I’ll see if I can send him to pick you up from the airport,” her mother said urgently.
Hannah had only seen her childhood best friend Ethan for a few fleeting weekends since she’d left for college after high school. Time had moved on, wedging between them, and before long she’d stopped hearing from him altogether. She hadn’t been in touch with him in years.
“Don’t worry him with it,” she said, the guilt of being away so long suddenly swarming her. “I’ll rent a car when I get to Nashville airport. I have to go right now, but I’m on my way.”
“Okay, honey. I love you.”
“Love you, Mama.”
Hannah hung up the phone. Her Barbados birthday trip with Miles would have to wait. While she hated to put their relationship on hold any longer, she had to. Miles would understand, surely.
As she looked for him again, a wave of fear simmered slowly in her gut and then burst through her veins. So many thoughts were racing around her mind. The two very different parts of her life—the southern roots of her childhood and this new version of herself she’d created in adulthood—were suddenly converging, and she was struggling to handle all the emotions she was feeling. Hannah felt as if she were on autopilot, silently scolding herself for going so long without seeing Gran.
The most important people in Gran’s life were her family, and with Hannah in New York, and Hannah’s parents now in Florida, Gran had been all alone. Hannah couldn’t imagine Gran’s bungalow filled with silence, or the quiet that must have saturated the place after everyone had left her. And with the shop literally falling apart around her… Hannah felt the prick of tears. Okay, focus, she told herself. Find Miles and tell him what’s going on. She needed him now more than ever.
Frantically, she scanned the crowd of passengers, but Miles hadn’t reached the baggage claim yet. She would need his support to deal with this, and while the circumstances were less than ideal, it would be good for them to be together without the demands of their jobs. She hadn’t even introduced him to her parents yet. It was time to do that.
A group of people walked towards her, but still no Miles. She took a few steps to get out of their way.
“Excuse me,” a guy about her age said when he accidentally bumped into her, as she started to make her way to the outskirts of the growing crowd.
They locked eyes for a second, familiarity swimming around at the edges of her distraught brain. Cloudy flashes came into her consciousness of a bare-chested boy, showing off and jumping into the river while she and her childhood friend Morgan Pete giggled bashfully. The man in front of her was polished, somber, but there was definitely something about him she couldn’t put her finger on that made it seem as if she knew him. Wait, Liam McGuire?
As if he could read her thoughts, his gaze lingered on her while he worked to unwind the bag that had gotten tangled with hers when she’d rolled her suitcase over it. “Sorry,” he added.
Hannah attempted to pull her things out of his way. Liam tugged quickly, obviously in a rush to get out of there, the seriousness on his face doing nothing to diminish the incredible good looks he’d held on to since they were kids.
“It’s no problem,” she said, trying to help. By the way he was rushing, she wondered if he didn’t want to be recognized. She didn’t really have time to catch up right now, anyway.
Her fingers found his bag and pulled, but she only succeeded in jerking it in the wrong direction, having been distracted by a new group of passengers arriving at the baggage claim. She turned toward the escalator to see if Miles was heading down yet.
“I’ve got it,” Liam told her, but she barely heard him. When she finally responded, he’d walked off, taking a call on his cell phone, and fishing his laptop out of his bag. She turned back toward the escalator full of passengers.
Suddenly time stopped still.
Hannah squinted toward the escalator to make sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. She could clearly see Miles making his way down, but he had his arm around another woman. To Hannah’s horror, he then leaned in and kissed the other woman’s lips, his hand moving up her back and to her neck the way it always had when he’d kissed Hannah. An icy cold shock slithered down her spine, and her throat began closing up with emotion. Hannah stood silently aghast, her heart hammering, as Miles and the woman moved down toward her level.
A shudder ran through Hannah just
as Miles noticed her standing there at the bottom. His eyes widened and he jolted to attention before jogging down the last few steps, leaving the woman behind.
“Hi,” he said with shifty movements, guilt written all over his face. “What are you doing here?”
Hannah wanted to scream at him, but her mouth was locked shut, tears spilling from her angry eyes.
“Hannah…” he said in a weak attempt to try to smooth things over, but both of them knew there wasn’t anything he could say to undo what she’d seen. Clearly knowing he was caught, he relented, shame sliding down his face. “I’d been wanting to tell you,” he said. “But I needed to find the right time…” He didn’t even seem upset, just embarrassed.
Hannah looked away, her stare landing by accident on Liam. He was watching the scene curiously and had swayed as if he were going to move toward her to intervene, but perhaps she’d just imagined it because then he broke eye contact, facing the baggage claim turnstile as if to give her privacy, if that were possible. The last thing she needed was Liam jumping into all this anyway. She could handle it.
The striking woman with whom Miles had descended the escalator came swishing over to them in her fashionable heels and long coat. “Hello,” she said with a smile, before her expression dropped to concern at the sight of Hannah’s obvious anguish. “I’m Becky,” she said cautiously. “And you are?”
