Chapter Nineteen

CORA

In the dim candlelight, Cora waited on the back porch, absently running Rufus’s gold heart pendant along the chain around her neck as music from the radio propped against the windowsill filled the porch. Sophie Tucker sang, “To me it’s clear, he’ll appear . . . the man I love.”

But just where was the man she loved? Rufus was an hour late. Cora jumped up, reached inside, and snapped off the radio. She scurried up two flights of stairs to check on dinner, the heat from the stove making the third floor unbearable—even though she’d turned the oven off an hour ago. Overhead the fans whirled, trying to draw in some cooler air through the open windows.

Tonight she might just drag her mattress downstairs and sleep on the porch.

Opening the oven door, Cora assessed the roast to be surviving, praise be. She sat in the chair by the dining table, still set with a place for her and Mama.

Oh, law, if Mama were here, she’d have a few words to say.

Cora was glad she was alone, away from Mama’s judging eyes. But she sure could use Mama’s famous gravy recipe to save her drying-out meat. Daddy used to say she could slather it on leather and have the folks banging the table for more.

But Mama was on a bus bound for New York.

Cora peeked out the third-floor window to Blossom Street. Five after eight. What could be keeping him? Every ticking minute sat like stone in her belly.

Back down to the shop, she adjusted the gown she’d put in the window this afternoon, moving the shoes forward more so they caught the edge of the streetlight.

This gown was one of her favorites. Odelia pieced it together from three different patterns. The long sleeves of lace would be perfect for any season save for the dead of summer.

She’d have it sold by the end of the week.

At the front door, she leaned to see if Rufus might be coming from across the way, through Gardenia Park. But his large shadow did not darken any street corner.

Back on the porch, the breeze pushed through the screen, setting the tapered candle flames dancing. Cora bent to blow them out but changed her mind. What if Rufus showed and her romantic evening was nothing more than darkness serenaded by cicadas?

She sat at the table, adjusting the silverware, making sure everything was just right. But impatient adrenaline lifted her from her seat. She walked to the curb on Blossom.

“Rufus?” She raised her voice ever so slightly. “Are you here?”

But her only answer was the ka-boom of a car engine backfiring.

On the corner of First Avenue, gazing west toward the port, an eerie chill crept over her skin. Downtown was dark. Quiet. Several of the streetlamps had burned out.

Wrapping her arms about her waist, Cora hurried back to the porch. Inside the shop, she sat in the small salon where she had the luxury of a second phone.

“Operator? The port house, please.”

Cora pressed her thumb to her lips as she waited, listening to the phone ring with no answer. She hung up. Something was wrong. She knew it. Trouble brewed in her gut.

Running up to the third floor, the skirt of her dress ruffling, swinging about her legs, the thick heels of her Sunday Mary Janes resounding with a determination, Cora gathered her hat and gloves, purse, and keys.

In her car, her trembling hands gripped the wheel, her mind blank, her heart thudding. She had no idea what she’d find at the port, but she had to try.

She knew the Wayfarer docked earlier this afternoon. She saw Rufus’s roustabouts down the street at the diner.

Lord, please let me lay eyes on him.

She would kiss him first, then give him a piece of her mind for being tardy, scaring her half to death. A packet sank at the head of the Greasy Creek shoals not too long ago.

At the port, she parked along the street, then traveled the walkway and the length of the quay to the boathouse, where a man in a blue cap and graying beard greeted her.

“I’m looking for Rufus St. Claire.”

“He ain’t here. Pulled away around six o’clock.”

“What? No, he couldn’t have. I saw his roustabouts in town this afternoon. He’s the captain of the Wayfarer.”

“I know who he is, and I tell you Captain St. Claire pulled away around six. Saw it with my own eyes. He came in, used my phone, collected some mail, muttered something not polite to repeat to a lady, then gathered his boys and headed downriver. He was a bit agitated.”

“Did he leave any messages? Perhaps for Miss Cora Scott?”

“Nope, but I stepped away for a moment.” The man disappeared into a back room and Cora heard the thumping of boxes. He reappeared with a white envelope in hand. She breathed relief, reaching for her letter. Thank goodness.

The man held his hand close to his chest. “Hold on now, this ain’t for you. It’s for the captain. Guess it got left behind. I’ll put it in his box for the next time.”

“Please, may I see?” Cora sighed, softening her posture. “I was supposed to meet him this evening and I’m worried.”

The old man hesitated, then handed it over. “Guess it don’t hurt to look. But don’t open it or it’ll be my job.”

Dread fired up Cora’s worry. The handwriting was familiar, reminding her of the handwriting on the postcard two springs ago. And the name was the same. The top left corner read “Miriam.” This time with a return address. Which Cora memorized before she handed back the letter. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a message for the captain should he return?”

“No, no, I don’t.” Cora pressed through the door into the night, the breeze off the river thick and dewy, scented with summer.

Rufus, you’re breaking my heart.

“You Cora?”

She jerked around with a start to find a man leaning against the boathouse, the scent of a pipe tinging the fragrance of the river.

“I don’t have any money, if you’re wondering.” She held up her pocketbook. It was empty save for her car keys. Which she’d hate to lose, but rather her car than her money.

“You looking for the captain? St. Claire?”

She stepped toward the man with eager intent. “I am. Do you know where I might find him? Or when he’ll be back?”

“You’re the one, ain’tcha?”

“Whatever do you mean, ‘You’re the one’?”

“The one who’s in love with him? Living in town? It’s a fabled story on the river that some gal on the Cumberland has been waiting for him for five years. She ain’t figured him out yet.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But she did, didn’t she? “Figured out what, exactly?”

The man puffed on his pipe and stared toward the river. “I ain’t aiming to be the one that breaks your heart.”

A hunger for truth trumped her fears as she moved closer to the stranger. “Tell me what you know. Please.”

He tapped his pipe against the wall of the boathouse. “Sure you want to know? Like I said, I ain’t aiming to be the one that breaks your heart.”

“How can you if you don’t even know me?”

He laughed. “I suppose you got a point there.” He gave her the squinty-eye, then sighed. “I hate to see what appears to be a good woman being used by a man like Rufus. Word is the captain’s got him several women along the river. Except you’re actually in love with him. The others figured him out and use him as much as he uses them.”

“That’s not true.” But on her words, the inner tremors started, shaking her from the inside out. “He’s asked me to marry him.”

The man’s laugh floated over her, a dark, decadent sound. “You own the wedding shop? Is that right? I work on the Rowena over yonder.” He tipped his head to the packet docked and sleeping. “Been to Heart’s Bend dozens of times. A man hears things. Trouble is, I can’t figure out how’s come you ain’t wised up yet.”

Because she believed. Because she hoped. Because she loved him. Because . . .

Cora rose up in defense. “He’s building his business, saving his money. Then we’ll marry.” Though she didn’t know why she defended their plans to this man. Maybe she just needed to hear them spoken out loud for her own sake.

“Building his business? Miss, he’s one of the richest men on the river. His father owns two different river boat companies.”

He flicked a lighter and touched the flame to the barrel of the pipe. In the small yellow boathouse light, Cora saw a jagged scar creeping across his cheek.

“As a captain his reputation is legend. I’ve seen him maneuver waters that give me nightmares, and I been on the river since I was a boy. As a Romeo, his reputation is equally legend. Miss, he’s not in love with you. Nor is he going to marry you. Word along the dock is he left tonight because his wife is having his baby tonight up in St. Louis.”

His wife? “You’re lying.” But the man’s words pressed her until Cora thought she’d collapse.

“I’m just telling you the word on the river. But the captain is crafty. Can’t get hide nor hair of truth out of him. Even when he’s stone drunk.”

“He doesn’t drink. He swore to me.”

“He swore, did he?” The man puffed on his pipe, his voice low and conciliatory. “I sure hate to see a pretty broad like you get hornswoggled by a man like St. Claire, but he’s got the charm, all right. The magic touch.”

She wanted to walk away, stop listening to his lies, but her feet refused to move. Because she knew, didn’t she? Truth laced his throaty, raspy tale.

“Th-thank you, Mr.—”

“Daughtry. Everyone calls me Daughtry.”

Cora headed up to the street to her parked car, barely registering the shrill call of sirens splitting the night air.

Several men scuffled from the boathouse. “Fire!” One jumped behind an old truck’s wheel while several others hopped into the bed. They clung to the sides as the driver peeled out, smoke bursting from the tailpipe.

In sympathetic harmony, the wind moaned over the still river, stirring up the current. The siren sounded again, its eerie song sending gooseflesh over Cora’s arms.

A coursing pain shot through her, the wail echoing in her heart’s deepest chamber. Rufus! Rufus!

The siren wound up again, revving the air with its warning. More men ran out of the darkness through the streetlights, then disappeared again.

Gazing in the direction they ran, Cora saw the dark smoke curling against the twilight sky.

She arrived at her car just as Joe McPherson pulled up in his pickup, leaning out the window. “Thank goodness you’re safe.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because, Cora, your shop is on fire.”

BIRCH

He jolted awake, the alarm of the rooster driving through him, setting his heart to beating. He must have dozed off. Last thing he remembered was cooling Cora’s face with a damp cloth, then sitting down in the corner chair to rest. Just for a moment . . .

Now the reddish-gold hue of an August morning inched around the drawn blinds. The lamp next to Cora’s bed flickered, the wick thirsty for more oil.

Birch pushed out of the chair and gathered the washbowl and pitcher as he headed down to his kitchen. He needed coffee. And to see about breakfast. He’d let Cora sleep until he came back up with a tray for her. Hopefully she’d be hungry.

Then they could settle where she might live while the shop got repaired. If the shop got repaired. From what he saw last night, it would take a hay bale of money to make it right again.

He paused at the sink, resting his hands on the porcelain edge, and gazed out the window toward the horizon, pink and gold with the dawn.

His neighbor Wade came by to feed the stock, but Birch needed to weed the garden and mend the leather harnesses. Birch appreciated Wade; his kindness gave him room to tend to the woman he loved.

Last night liked to scare him to death. Hearing the fire siren was one thing. But racing toward town to fulfill his volunteer duties only to discover it was the wedding shop under the weight of the smoke nearly tripped him to the ground.

He arrived just as Cora ran into the burning building to get her “things.” Birch took off after her even though Chief Hayes stopped him.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“So you’re going to leave her in there by herself?” He broke free and charged after her, finding her on the mezzanine floor, fainted on the other side of a fallen, burning beam.

Birch leaned against the sink, staring out of the window, his heart pulsing at the memory of seeing her collapsed amid the flames. He’d nearly lost her. The only woman he’d ever loved. And by gum, he wasn’t going to waste another minute standing back and watching, wishing she were part of his life.

She’d been a-muttering in her sleep. Something about Rufus, calling out to him. But that scalawag wasn’t even in town.

Birch yanked the loaf of bread from the wooden box and slapped the skillet on the stove, greasing the cast iron with a scoop of lard. He whipped up some eggs and milk and dipped in the bread.

He got the coffee to percolating, and a kettle of hot water for Cora’s tea. She never cared much for coffee.

From the china cabinet in the dining room, he gently reached in for two cups and saucers of Mama’s good Lennox set. It was a wedding present from her aunt when she married Daddy. Boy, did she treasure it with all her heart.

Setting the china on a tray along with butter and syrup and Mama’s polished silverware, Birch tended to the frying toast, letting it get good and crispy.

He poured a cup of coffee for himself, then fixed Cora a cup of tea with sugar and cream and carried the tray up to the guest room, the stairs creaking with each step.

“How bad is it?” Cora said, sitting up as he came in. She looked tired but pretty, so very pretty with her thick tresses wild around her face.

Birch left the door open, swallowing the lump in his throat, setting the tray on the bed next to Cora. “The porch is gone, and the whole back of the shop is pretty charred. The pantry is pretty burned up. Place smells like smoke and, of course, there’s water damage.”

“My money, my deposits . . . tins of money . . . under the mudroom floor . . .”

Birch nodded to the table under the window. “I found the money tins. Brought them back with me.”

“Thank you.” She exhaled, sitting back, covering her face with her hands. “Do I want to ask about the inventory? I’m such a fool. Such a fool.”

“Don’t say that, Cora.”

“But I am, and the whole town knows it.”

“I reckon no one is saying you’re a fool. Especially since you nearly bought it when you collapsed in the smoke.” He offered her the cup of tea. “Why in tarnation did you run into a burning building?”

“My ledgers, two days’ worth of deposits. I’ve just started banking at the new bank on High Avenue. Downtown Mutual. Oh, Birch, tell me, how is my inventory?”

“Well, if you mean what you stored in that locked room, probably fine. The stuff in the window might have smoke damage, but the fire embers didn’t get that far. The flames got put out before it spread across the mezzanine. Your ledgers and all should be fine. I’ll run in today, look for your deposit.”

“Thank the Lord.” She sipped her tea, her golden-brown eyes brimming. “Was it the candles? That caused the fire?”

“If they did, they melted in the blaze. Were they on the back porch?”

“Yes.” The word caught in her throat. “I left them burning when I went to find Rufus.”

“The wind was mighty strong last night.”

She tilted her gaze toward the ceiling, tears slipping down her cheeks. “The only thing I have in this world is the shop and I nearly destroyed it. For what? A man who was supposed to love me? Supposed to marry me? But couldn’t even keep his date for dinner.”

“What happened?” Birch set a slice of fried bread on a plate, spread it with butter and syrup, and passed it to Cora. She took it, but she didn’t seem to recognize what she was doing.

“He was late, so I went down to the dock only to find out he’d gone. Some sort of emergency. But, Birch . . .” Cora fixed her gaze on him. “I saw him, through the smoke, coming to rescue me.” She shifted around, plumping pillows behind her back. “Yes, now I remember. I saw his blue coat. Rufus came in and rescued me. Didn’t he? Tell me, was he there? Where is he?”

“Rufus didn’t rescue you, Cora.” Birch shook his head. “That was me. I rescued you.”

“You?” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “You were the man with the buttons, like the captain jacket?”

“The chief made me throw on bunker gear. Said he wasn’t going to lose two of us in the fire.”

“So it was you?”

Birch motioned to her plate. “Breakfast ought to make you feel right again. Eat.” He sipped his coffee, the delicate china felt foreign in his big rough hands.

She took a small bite. “When I was little, the dark always frightened me,” she began, not so much to Birch but to the room. Perhaps to herself. “I’d crawl into bed with Daddy and Mama, and Daddy would tell me I was only afraid of the dark because I couldn’t see. Then he’d light a match and with that one little flame I could see the whole room.” She dabbed her cheek with her fingers, a soft laugh on her lips. “He’d let the match burn down to his fingers before blowing it out, but he’d usually burn himself. He’d toss the match away, swearing, and Mama would scold him. ‘Ernie, please, your language.’ Then he left when I was seven. I was really scared. But Mama was strong. Ernest Junior tried to be the man even though he was only ten. They’d remind me that the only thing we can’t see in the dark is the light. But if we light a lamp or a match, or look at the moon, then we can see. I wanted to see Daddy so badly. Then after a few months, he came home. And the whole house was filled with his light.”

Birch eased back down into the corner chair, listening, barely breathing, wanting her to go on.

“He left again in the panic of ’14. Returned again on a bright fall day. Everything was right again. Then EJ went off to war. Only to die. Those were dark days.”

“Yes, they were.”

She glanced over at him as if realizing he was there. “Of course . . . you were there. In the war, in the darkness.” She glanced at the plate in her lap. “This looks good, Birch.”

He was happy to see her cut up a bite and chew, nodding her approval.

“Can I ask you something?”

She peered at him, waiting.

“What is it about Rufus that holds you, Cora? Why do you wait for him?”

She set down her fork and knife. “Because I . . . I guess . . . I guess I want to believe him. If I hold on to hope, then he can’t abandon me. Not like Daddy. Not like EJ.”

“EJ didn’t abandon you. He was killed.”

“But he’s not here, is he? Nor is Daddy. I just can’t believe one more man would abandon me, Birch.” She fingered the pendant about her throat. The one that Rufus gave her that glorious Fourth of July. Why? To prove his affection. What did that Daughtry fellow know? “Not one more man. I’ll shrivel up and die if it’s true.”

He scooted to the side of the bed. “But I’m here, Cora. Right here with you. I won’t abandon you. I’d never abandon you.”

“Sweet Birch,” she said, smoothing her hand along his cheek. “You are always there for me, Birch.”

“Then marry me.” The words flowed with the force of his heart. He’d meant to propose in a sweet, kind way, holding hands, giving her his mother’s ring, but he could not let this moment escape.

“Marry you?” She pulled her hand back.

“Yes, marry me.” He jumped up, ran down the hall to his bedroom, and fished Mama’s ring from the velvet box in his sock drawer. When he returned to Cora, he knelt beside her, holding up the box. “I love you. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Oh, Birch.” Her fingers trembled as she pressed them to her mouth.

“No, not ‘Oh, Birch.’ Say, ‘Yes, Birch, I’ll marry you.’ I’ve waited for you, Cora. Waited through the war, waited while you mourned EJ, waited while you mourned your aunt Jane, waited while you took over the shop. I ignored my dad when he said to go on and court you. I thought you needed time. Well, it backfired. Rufus came along, and I’ve watched you pine for that bumpkin ever since. If he loves you, why ain’t he married you?”

Cora sighed, setting her plate back on the tray, tears glistening in her eyes. “To be honest, I don’t know. He was supposed to come for dinner last night. He didn’t show so I went down to the dock. I was told he’d left. Something about St. Louis and a baby. Some man named Daughtry told me he was married.”

Birch sat back with a sigh, cradling the ring box in his palm. “I’d heard things but never knew for sure. Rumors.”

“The man went on to say I was the only woman who’d not figured him out. And he’s not building his business like he keeps telling me. He’s one of the richest men on the river.”

“So he’s been lying to you?”

“Birch . . .” Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and for a moment, she shook off the burden of the fire. “Will you go with me to St. Louis, Birch?”

“Why on earth do you want to go to St. Louis? To see him? Cora, you have a shop to rebuild. Don’t waste time and money chasing that cad.”

“I have money, Birch. Believe it or not. I can rebuild the shop. Daddy made me get insurance when I first took over. But what I want is the truth. Please, drive with me to St. Louis. I have an address. I think it might be where he lives.”

“Cora, you sat here reminiscing about the darkness, and now you’re asking me to go with you straight into it?”

“Because I need to find the light. I’m tired of being in this . . . darkness. Yes, that’s what it is. A darkness and I can’t see. What is the truth? Otherwise, I think I’ll keep foolishly hoping.” She’d cupped her hand against his arm, her voice firm, her gaze bold. “I waited my whole life for a man like Rufus. One who would sweep me off my feet. Just when I thought I was too old for such romantic ideas, he walked into the shop and straight into my heart. He had this twinkle in his eye, the kind one is born with, as if one of heaven’s stars thought he was so lovely it swooped down to live in his gaze. I could barely breathe. He smiled at me and I thought I’d swoon right then and there.”

Birch pulled away, tucked the ring box in his pocket, and hovered by the door. “Now you know how I feel about you.”

“I’m sorry, Birch, but I must be honest.”

“If you value honesty so much, then why do you put up with lies from him?”

“Love, I guess. Birch, will you go with me? Do I even have a right to ask you? I’d ask one of my friends, but most of them are married with families to tend. Daddy’s gone . . . Mama.”

“Cora, rest.” He moved back to the bed, gently pressing her against the pillows, removing her plate. “You’re still wrung out from last night. The doc said you took in a good bit of smoke. You need to take it easy.”

“But will you? Please.”

“You’re a grown woman, ain’t you? Go by yourself when you’re all recovered.” He didn’t want to witness that brute with his hands, and lips, on Cora.

“Birch, I can’t do it alone. One look at him, one sweet word of explanation, and I’m afraid I’ll get all confused and confounded. Believe whatever lies he tells me. I don’t trust my heart to discover the truth. I’m asking you. Be my light.”

He yanked up the tray and started for the door. “Only time I can go is on a Sunday. I can’t leave on a weekday to go gallivanting. But I’m not going with you until you’re recovered.”

“Thank you, Birch, thank you.”

“What if he’s not there, Cora? Or worse, what if there is a wife and baby?”

“Then I’ll know it, won’t I? I can close the door on Rufus St. Claire and go on with my life.”

Then perhaps she’d say yes to him. Become Mrs. Good. “All right, but you think long and hard about this, Cora. You’ll be busting into another woman’s life, telling her the man she loves ain’t true.”

“Doesn’t she deserve to know?”

“What for? You seemed to enjoy being in the dark all this time.”

“That’s rather unfair. All I wanted was to believe.” Her lip quivered. “I loved him. I suppose I still do.”

He sighed. Darn if she didn’t just wiggle into his heart even further. “I’ll go with you. In the meantime, you be thinking about where you want to live while the shop is being rebuilt.”

Her smile was just about all the reward he needed.

“I’ll go by Tony Nance’s place later,” he said. “See about getting a crew to clean up the shop and start putting it back together.”

“You really are too good to me.”

“What would be the point in telling you I love you if I didn’t show you?” He collected his cup and saucer and put them on the tray. “You eat your breakfast now.” He motioned to Cora’s plate on the nightstand. “I got some chores to attend. There’s clean towels in the bathroom down the hall. If you need me, just ring that bell.” Cora reached for the cowbell on the nightstand, gave it a clang. Birch grinned. “I’ll come running.”

Jogging down the stairs, he set the tray by the sink and snatched up the rest of the fried toast, dunking it into his coffee. She was in his house. He was taking care of her. If that didn’t win her heart for marriage, what would?

Grabbing his hat off the hook by the back door, he walked out of the house whistling a tune, into the dew of the dawn, into the day’s welcoming light.

HALEY

February 4

There couldn’t have been a better day to ride the Harley down I-65 to Birmingham. The first Thursday in February, yielding a perfect, beautiful, clear, cold day. Mom suggested she take Dad’s truck since he drove his new BMW to work, but Haley wanted the freedom of the Harley.

A month after applying for the wedding shop renovation permits, she needed a day on the road to think, clear her head, connect with God.

But before hitting the road, Haley pulled up to the shop. She’d left her notebook with all her plans on the mezzanine.

Up the stairs two at a time, energy surged through her. It happened every time she entered the shop. Since Cole and Gomez had knocked down the walls, a light filled the salons. Haley gazed down from the mezzanine. A glow emanated from the shop beyond the light falling through the windows. As if the old place was relieved someone loved it again.

She patted the banister. “Don’t worry. I’m doing all I can.” She’d returned to her knees again and again, asking God to help her find the money and resources she needed.

She had an appointment with a bank in Nashville next week.

Back down the stairs, she hit the foyer when the front door swung open. Dax’s tall broadform filled the doorway.

Haley stumbled backward, her heels tripping over the bottom step. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” Dax inched inside, a faux humble expression on the high cut of his cheeks.

“Out. Right now.” She fired toward him, shoving his six-foot-three frame out the door. His presence tainted her shop, its beauty and innocence. “Get out.”

Dax stepped back, her force against him like a fly hitting a tree. “Calm down, Haley. Geez.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She pressed the old lock push button and pulled the door closed behind her, locking it, then clutched her notebook to her chest. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. But I remembered you said something about an old wedding shop downtown. I saw your bike out front when I drove past.” He grinned like he’d discovered gold at the end of a rainbow.

“Good-bye then.” Haley started down the walk, toward her bike and the dark car parked behind it, a shiver in her bones deeper than the cold.

This was so Dax. Just showing up. Trying to inch back into her life. Win her over with his big fat lying eyes and corny grin that used to make her knees weak. That still carved a pit in her stomach, if she were honest.

“I’ve missed you.” Dax leaned his muscled frame against his car, his feet buried in the black snow lining the curb. “I wanted to see if we could—”

“We? There’s no we. No us.” She’d punch him in the arm if he’d feel any of it beneath his coat and wad of California beach muscles. “What about ‘I never want to see you again’ left room for doubt?”

“You were mad.”

“Of course I was mad. Dax, you are married.” She balled her fist, ready to swing. Oh, she wanted to swing, hit his perfect nose with her fist. “And you drew me into your web of lies and deceit. I can’t blame you because I willingly, stupidly went along!”

“Then you’ll be glad to know that the situation has been rectified.”

“Rectified? Your marriage and children have been rectified. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I’m getting divorced.”

Haley laughed. “Sure, like the ten thousand other times you said that? All the times I begged you to leave her?” She’d lost a piece of her soul when she hooked up with the ox watching her with a smirk and steel-blue eyes. “Do what you want, Dax, but count me out. There is not now nor ever will be a we, as in you and me.”

Once she heard “home” was the next direction in her life, she hoped, prayed, believed that returning to Heart’s Bend—and now opening this shop—would restore some of what she’d surrendered to this man.

Her innocence. Her dignity. Self-respect. Her hope and zest for life.

Now he stood before her threatening it all.

“So this is it? The wedding shop?” He moved up the front walk again, inspecting the storefront, the pillars by the display window, the ratty landscaping.

“Dax,” Haley said, checking the time on her phone. “I have to go. I have an appointment.”

He peered back at her. “I can help you with this place. I told you I would. Whatever you want, darling.”

Darling? The word on his lips filled her being with a sour taste. “No thanks.”

“Really? Come on, I know you don’t have any money.”

“Thanks to you.”

Dax ran a chain of gyms and hawked a series of workout videos that was getting him some acclaim. Haley’s credit card and savings helped bankroll his first exercise video.

“You know I owe you. You helped me. Now it’s my turn to help you.” He cocked a sporty grin, wiggling his eyebrows. “Last year was a very good year for DM Enterprises.”

And have his nasty tentacles touching her life, her precious shop? No way. If not for herself, then for the love of Miss Cora.

“Dax, you came a long way for nothing. And I really do have to go.”

“Actually, I have a meeting in Nashville.” He walked toward her. “A couple of country music artists got in shape with my videos. We’re talking partnership, music to go with a new series of videos.” He waited for her to respond, to be impressed. “Will you meet me for dinner tonight?”

“No.” She turned for her bike, sliding her notebook into the saddlebag. “Have a good meeting and a good life.”

“Come on, babe, why’re you doing me this way?” He came around her bike, reaching for her.

“Dax—” As she twisted free, Cole pulled alongside, powering down the passenger window.

“Haley, are you ready? For the thing.”

Right, the thing. “Yes, I’m on my way. Am I late? So sorry.” At her bike, she pounded on her helmet and revved the engine. All the while Cole waited, his expression like the idling rumble of the truck’s engine.

But wait. She had to make one thing clear. Hopping off her bike, Haley walked back to Dax, who stood beside his car.

“When I get back, don’t be here. Don’t even be in this town.”