by Olivia Miles
Return to Me
a Blue Harbor novel
OLIVIA MILES
Rosewood Press
ALSO BY OLIVIA MILES
Blue Harbor Series
A Place for Us
Second Chance Summer
Because of You
Small Town Christmas
Stand-Alone Titles
Meet Me at Sunset
(Evening Island)
This Christmas
Oyster Bay Series
Feels Like Home
Along Came You
Maybe This Time
This Thing Called Love
Those Summer Nights
Still the One
One Fine Day
Had to Be You
Misty Point Series
One Week to the Wedding
The Winter Wedding Plan
Sweeter in the City Series
Sweeter in the Summer
Sweeter Than Sunshine
No Sweeter Love
One Sweet Christmas
Briar Creek Series
Mistletoe on Main Street
A Match Made on Main Street
Hope Springs on Main Street
Love Blooms on Main Street
Christmas Comes to Main Street
Harlequin Special
Edition
‘Twas the Week Before Christmas
Recipe for Romance
Copyright © 2021 by Megan Leavell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Return to Me
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
Epilogue
1
Brooke Conway had a secret.
A couple of them, really, not that she was particularly proud. The most pressing one was that she was back in Blue Harbor, her hometown, and even though she’d let her sisters and parents know of her plans, they hadn’t known that plans had changed. That instead of arriving in town today, she’d actually been here for four whole days. Laying low. Fighting that pull in her chest that said coming here was a bad idea.
It hadn’t been easy to pull off, exactly, not when her new apartment was located smack in the middle of Main Street, for all to see. She’d changed her flight, flagged a cab, fought back the apprehension as each mile ticked by, bringing her closer to the northern Michigan coast. She’d waited in the cab for a full ten minutes in case she’d been spotted, shielded behind sunglasses and happy that the inexpensive moving company she’d hired wouldn’t be delivering most of her belongings until the following week, so she didn’t have to worry about carrying too much, or drawing attention with a big unloading day. Not that she had much. In Manhattan, she was rarely in her apartment. Other than a few pieces of furniture and boxes of dishes that served as mere trays for her take-out containers, she didn’t own much other than fabric, and her most prized possession, the thing she had invested in and couldn’t live without, her state of the art, industrial-grade sewing machine, she had managed to take with her, though not without paying dearly for its transport, and even then she had fretted as she’d sipped her diet soda and stared out the small oval window at the clouds, hoping that it hadn’t gotten lost in transit, only exhaling when she saw it coming down the cargo line in baggage claim.
This she’d carried up the stairs, as carefully as others might hold a newborn baby.
The apartment was semi-furnished with a guest bed in the second room, a small sofa in the living room, and a kitchen table and chairs near the front bay window. She’d set her sewing machine on the table, retrieved grocery bags with darting eyes, and then made one final trip for her suitcase and tote, tipping the driver handsomely for allowing her to stop off at the big supermarket near the airport along the way. Once the door was locked behind her, she’d pulled all the blinds. And that was how she had stayed for the past four days. Hiding in her own hometown.
Maybe there was no excuse. Maybe it was shameful. But coming back had been difficult enough—staying wouldn’t be easier, but she’d gotten over the hurdle, dove headfirst, like she used to do in the icy waters of the lake on the first warm day. Eventually, she’d get used to things. Acclimate. Eventually, it would all be okay. So she told herself. When the cab had driven over the town line, she’d immediately questioned her decision, causing her heart to speed up and her mind to spin and a hundred excuses to turn right around, even though U-turns were possibly illegal in Michigan (she hadn’t been back in so long, she couldn’t be sure) and she was fairly certain that the driver was losing patience.
But there was nowhere to go back to, and that was the reason she pressed on, quietly moved into the space that she’d rented on Main Street—a vacant storefront for her wedding dress boutique and a small apartment conveniently above—even though her sister Gabby’s flower shop was only a block down and several of her cousins were within reach, too.
She just needed…a moment. She needed to settle in, catch her breath, and find her footing. Her family would see plenty of her going forward. She was back now.
Back. Just thinking of that made the knot tighten in her stomach, even though she knew it was the right choice. Not that she’d had much of one. Losing her job in New York had seen to that. And the fashion industry was competitive, something that had been a reality check from the start. For nearly six years she had worked hard to get ahead, trying to live her dream. Living a glamorous life, some might say, even if it had become an empty one.
She missed her sisters. And her cousins, who were so much closer than friends. And her parents. And this town. And…No. That was all she missed.
Or so she told herself every time her blood pressure surged and she wondered if she should have held out a little longer, interviewed a bit more in New York, hoped that something would come along.
Except that something had come along. An opportunity of a lifetime, really. A chance to finally have her own line. Right here in Blue Harbor.
But oh, just thinking about her shop sent a flutter through her heart straight down to her stomach and she felt a swell of hope as she imagined all its possibilities. She’d fine-tuned her skills over the years, learned from the best, but now she had the opportunity to make something of her own.
It was a small dream, perhaps. After all, a custom wedding dress shop in Blue Harbor was a far cry from an atelier in Paris or Manhattan. But it was her dream, and she had found a way to make it come true.
No need to mention that she was also running away. For the second time in her life.
But this was different, she reminded herself. This time she was coming home. This time she had a plan that she could stick to…
Well, almost. It was the almost part that nagged her. The part about the loan she’d need to apply for if she wanted to grow things the way that she’d envisioned—to hire an assistant, take out advertising space in magazines, and get her name out there, at least on a regional level. She’d avoided loans for yea
rs, choosing to rent rather than buy in New York, and luckily not needing a car when she was there, but this time she owed it to herself to take a risk, to borrow against her future.
For now, she had a few more hours of work ahead of her before she headed over to her parents’ home, where her family insisted on having a party to welcome her officially. By now, they would know she was back, or at least arriving at any minute. She could picture her mother standing at the window, her hands gripping each other, wondering if she should pop over into town to see if her middle daughter needed help. Brooke’s father would advise her to wait, to let Brooke settle in on her own time. Her mother would probably then mention she needed something at the store. Find an excuse to linger in town a bit. Maybe stroll down Main; it was such a lovely spring day and all…
Brooke turned to the window of her apartment and parted the wooden blinds just wide enough to look down onto Main Street. The blossoming eaves of the trees shielded most of the view, but still, she was relieved to see that the sidewalks were full of strangers only, young families on their way to a late lunch, or perhaps hoping to catch the next ferry out to Evening Island, where they could rent bikes and ride laps around the small island, hoping to catch sight of some early lilacs in bloom.
Still, she knew her mother, and she knew that she wouldn’t patiently wait for the clock to strike five o’clock when Gabby closed her flower shop and promised to personally escort Brooke to their childhood home. Just the two of them, she’d said over the phone. Like the old days.
Meaning the days when Brooke was still single.
She’d tried to block that time from her mind. A big wedding. So much planning, and effort, and fanfare.
And then…Well, no use in thinking about what came after that. It was ancient history. She was a grown woman now. An independent woman. A woman with her own business, a lease, and a family that loved her. A family that couldn’t wait to welcome her tonight. She didn’t know why she was dreading it, but a part of her did. Because this party would make it official. Life in Blue Harbor. And even though she was back in town, she wasn’t quite ready for the feeling of such permanency just yet.
Happy that she’d bought enough groceries to pack her fridge and the second shelf of the small pantry, she made herself a mug of instant coffee and slathered peanut butter on a slice of bread as a late lunch. There would be plenty of time for proper food once she was ready to go out in public, but today she planned to get the finishing touches made on her storefront, maybe even set up her back office, too.
With her sandwich only half-eaten, she took the stairs down to the street level, let herself in the back door with the key that the landlord had left under the mat—a telling sign that she was back in Blue Harbor if ever there was one—and entered the storage room, which was luckily clean and tidy, and painted the same shade of light blue as the other walls of the space. It had been easier that way, giving direction from afar, to have everything painted the same color, though she might change her small office later, to something more distinctive yet feminine, like a soft blush or an elegant lavender. It would be her personal space, where she would do all her alterations and sewing, and right next to the closet that would soon hold bolts of the prettiest fabrics that she’d collected over the years, from lace to chiffon to rich satins that she never tired of working with, however heavy the ballgowns sometimes became. Back in New York, her vision was credited to her boss. Her designs were tweaked to suit someone else’s vision. Someone else’s success. Now, she had the power to create anything and everything she wanted.
And that…well, that alone was a reason to come back here.
And do what it took to secure that loan.
Inside the storefront, the light fixtures were in dire need of replacing, but she had put off making a call to a handyman until today, knowing how quickly the word would spread if she’d scheduled him any sooner. Old Gus would tell her dad down at the docks by noon, she was sure. The men in town sat out on their boats as often as the weather permitted, under the guise of baiting whitefish in Lake Huron, even though most of the wives suspected it was an excuse for them to get out of the house—not that anyone was complaining. Since Brooke’s father’s retirement from the family’s orchard and winery, he spent nearly as much time fishing as he did traveling.
Only her parents weren’t traveling now. Nope. They’d been sure to tell her that they didn’t have another trip planned for months. They were all hers.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
She made a note in her planner that Gus would be arriving the next morning. With any luck, he could get the fixtures replaced while she hung the mirrors and set up the dressing rooms, in case she needed a hand with any of those tasks. The shop had once belonged to Patsy, and it was conveniently a former women’s clothing boutique—one that Brooke had worked at not so long ago, even if it felt like another lifetime. When Gabby had mentioned that Patsy was closing up shop, Brooke saw an opportunity that she knew might not come along again for a while. She’d hung up the phone with her sister, paced her shoebox of an apartment in Manhattan, and then, with a shaking hand, dialed Patsy herself and asked about taking over the lease.
Two weeks later, here she was. Standing in the space she had slowly transformed. Making it all her own.
She stood back and marveled at the sight. Some people might think it was ironic that she was a wedding dress designer.
One person in particular, she thought, flicking off the light.
*
At four forty-five, Brooke decided it was safe to venture outside. Still, this was Blue Harbor; the population was small. The one time she’d visited since leaving, she’d been sure to stay at her parents’ house and never leave. And as eager as she was to see her family now, to know that at the end of the street was her cousin Cora’s holiday shop, and just off Main was the café that her cousin Amelia now owned and the new bakery run by her cousin Maddie, she also knew that she could pace herself. She had all weekend to visit them. And next week, too. Next month. Next year. She wasn’t going anywhere this time. She was putting down roots.
And speaking of, some flowers were needed to flank her glossy black paned door. Something seasonal yet elegant, she thought. She made a mental note to talk to Gabby about it tonight as she stood back to study the storefront from a distance. The front bay window was covered by a gauzy white curtain, and her sign was yet to be installed, covering the ghost of Patsy’s, which had left a discoloration mark on the brick in its removal.
The sign was scheduled for delivery tomorrow—she’d triple checked and was tracking it by phone—and she’d already started to dream about her opening week window display. Something springy, yet elegant. Maybe with a garland of fresh blooms framing the glass?
She turned at a tap on her shoulder, expecting to see her sister.
“There you are!” she exclaimed with a smile until she caught the mischievous gleam of a man—and not just of any man. “I mean…you. I…I didn’t mean you.”
Kyle Harrison stared back at her, his expression somewhere between confusion and amusement. Immediately, Brooke stiffened. She knew she’d have to face him. Prepared for it, even. Rehearsed it over and over until she almost lost her courage to leave New York at all. But she hadn’t expected it to happen the very first day she ventured outside. Darn small-town life.
“Brooke.” He looked her up and down, making her pleased that she’d dressed up for tonight’s family party in her best jeans, wedge heels, blousy top, and gold necklace to match her earrings. She’d had her hair trimmed and highlighted before leaving the big city—really, sometimes she thought the person she would miss the most in her old life was Felix in the East Village salon that didn’t look like much from the front, but worked magic on the inside.
Not that she should care what Kyle thought of her appearance. He was a part of her past; only now, she saw that he had changed in the years since she’d been back. His face had thinned out, and fine lines had appeared around his ey
es. Always lanky and moderately tall, he’d filled out in the shoulders and chest.
Not that she was noticing.
But one thing was the same. That steady blue gaze. She tried to look away, but the pull was too strong.
“Kyle.” She was an adult. Thirty-one years old, meaning no excuses. No sense in making this awkward, especially now that she was going to be living in town. “This is a surprise.”
He cocked an eyebrow. She’d nearly forgotten how he could do that so expertly, with just one brow. “Surprise? You’re the one back in the town I never left. The surprise is on me.”
She couldn’t tell by his expression what he truly meant by that word, but she decided that it didn’t matter. She and Kyle hadn’t meant anything to each other since they were kids.
Another untruth, she thought. One she’d tried to tell herself.
But one thing was very true. This was the town that Kyle had never left. Refused to leave, more like it. And that was something that she didn’t need to be reminded about because she had never forgotten it, or forgiven him.
“I assumed word would have traveled by now,” she said pleasantly. They both knew how the gossip mill ran in this town, and Patsy was a willing participant. “I’m opening a shop.” She didn’t go into further detail. He’d lost the right to know about her life a long time ago.
He glanced at the old clothing shop as if only now placing her connection to it. His gaze slid back to her, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say he was frowning. “So you’ve moved back then? You’re not just visiting?”
“Nope,” she said, slapping her hands at her hips. “I mean, yep. I mean, I’m…I’m here to stay.”
The frown that pulled at his brow was noticeable, and she released a shaky breath. She looked down the street in the direction of Gabby’s flower shop. Seriously, where was her sister?
