The rented SUV glided up the cobblestone driveway toward the quaint cottage. It stood like a scene right out of a Thomas Kinkade painting, complete with window boxes and lanterns, exactly as Hadley Parker remembered it from her childhood summers when the house belonged to her grandmother. Flowers burst from every corner of the yard and dripped from every inch of the wraparound porch. The lawn was plush and expertly preened—not a weed or errant dandelion in sight. The porch beckoned with its two swings and four rocking chairs. This was a house accustomed to visitors, just as it was when Grandma was alive.
As though anticipating a friend, a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and two water goblets sat waiting on a side table. Hadley could get used to staying here again—two months hardly seemed long enough after thirteen years.
She climbed the white wooden steps toward the front door—open to let the summer breeze into the parlor. Parlor? Hadley hadn’t thought that word, let alone used it, over the past decade. But it seemed so natural there. She stepped around the wind chimes tinkling their airy song and reached for the buzzer. Before she could press it, a plump—oh, how Hadley hated that word—woman appeared at the door, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Hadley Parker?” The screen door burst open, and a pair of kind eyes searched Hadley’s soul. “Oh, you poor dear. Come in, come in. You’re home now.”
What on earth? Poor dear? “You’re Norma?”
“Why of course, dear.” She pulled Hadley into a tight, yet fluffy, embrace. Norma held on longer than one would expect, but not quite long enough for Hadley.
Norma seemed to know Hadley already, but what could she know from nothing more than a phone call? Maybe the rental lady had blabbed. “Should I get my things from my car?”
“Oh, pish.” Norma waved her hand. “There will be plenty of time for that, dear. Let’s sit for a glass of tea. I’m parched.” She settled into a creaky chair and began to rock. If the dents on the wooden planks were any indication, that was her favorite pastime. “Pour me a glass, will you, dear?”
“Of course.” Hadley let her shoulder bag slide to the floor and reached for a goblet. The clinking ice gave away her shaky hands.
“Now you tell me what’s wrong, dear.” Norma took a swig of her tea, slurping around the cubes.
What made her think something was wrong? “Oh, nothing really. I’m just nervous. New place, new adventure. You know how it goes.” Did she know? Had Norma ever lived outside of Osage Beach? Hadley didn’t remember ever seeing her, but visiting over the summers during her childhood hadn’t made Hadley a local expert.
“I’m sure that’s part of it. But honey, there’s no mistaking the pain in those sad green eyes of yours.” Norma waved her hands. “Now don’t you worry. I’m sure no one else can see it—except maybe my grandbaby boy—young’un has an innocent way about him that can peer into people, too. But most people wouldn’t be able to look beyond your beauty to the soul inside there. That’s one hurting soul.” Norma squinted at Hadley as though sizing her up.
Was there a rock nearby Hadley could crawl under?
“Where’s your mama and daddy, dear?”
Hadley gasped. How had she known? “They … um … died several years ago in a car accident.”
“Mm hmm.” Norma nodded. “How about a husband?”
“Not married.”
Norma clucked her tongue. “Brothers and sisters?” “None.”
“Oh my sweet baby. You’re all alone. That’s why Jesus brought you here to Norma. You need a family.”
Hadley’s eyes stung as she forced the tears down. How could a stranger affect her so deeply? Was Norma an angel or a psycho? She seemed crazy, but Hadley didn’t feel like Norma was crazy.
“Well, now that we have that figured out, I’ll show you to your room.” Norma jumped from her chair and motioned for Hadley to retrieve her bags from the car, the rocker banging back and forth in protest of her rapid desertion.
Hadley scurried down the steps and gathered as much as she could carry then followed Norma into the house, straight up the stairs, and down the hall toward Hadley’s old room, not that Norma could have known.
Norma stopped at the second room on the right and gripped the antique glass doorknob. “Now I didn’t mean to rush you past the rest of the house. Don’t take my rudeness to mean you’re not welcome to enjoy it. This is your home for as long as you’re here, darlin’. All of it. I want you to feel at ease here.” She opened the door and stepped back, allowing Hadley to move past her into the room.
A tiny gasp escaped Hadley’s lips. No more yellowed wallpaper. No more antique quilts. If Hadley designed a summery, country-cottage bedroom, this would have been it. It looked like an award-winner right off a Southern Living centerfold. Flowers everywhere—on the wall, the curtains, the upholstery, the bedspread, the area rugs. The hardwood floor gleamed. Even the throw pillows were plush and inviting. She was home. It would be hard to leave this room every day—but oh, so nice to return.
Time to shop. Armed with directions from Norma, Hadley peered up and down the row of shops until she spotted the shoe store and pulled into a spot in front of it. Hah. She’d found it easily without the GPS.
The door chimed as she strained to pull it open against the Ozark breeze.
“Welcome to Road Runner. What can I help you with today?” A boy of about nineteen grinned as he looked up from the cash register.
Yeah, I’ll bet he’s happy. Hadley eyed the back of the customer in front of him—a rather scruffy-looking man about her own age. He had to be a marathoner, with those sinewy legs. Though only a few inches of them actually showed beneath his cut-off shorts and above his black socks. Was he serious? He ran a hand through his sandy waves and nodded at Hadley then handed over a credit card to pay for three of the same pair of shoes. Maybe he should throw some white socks in there while he was at it.
She forced her gaze back to the clerk. “I–I’m not sure. I think I’m just looking?” Great. Way to sound confident.
“Okay. Take your time. My name is Stewart; let me know if I can be of service in any way.” He let his dark eyes rove Hadley’s body from head to toe. Right. Bet he just couldn’t wait to finish with his professional athlete and move on to Hadley, who couldn’t possibly be a runner.
Hadley knew she didn’t look like someone in need of anything athletic, in her baggy jeans and gray flannel shirt. What could she do? Nothing fit anymore. Her wallet hadn’t quite caught up to her weight loss until recently, and all she’d been able to buy had been dress clothes for work since moving into her expensive lakefront apartment. But now … thank heaven for bonus checks and big commission checks. The tide had changed just in time for her thirtieth birthday. Three days away.
Would the world feel different when she poured herself into a new decade? If her birthday song were a geocache clue: Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. I once was a fat girl, But now I’m skin–nee.
Hah. People had called her skinny lately. Were they crazy? Couldn’t they see she was the same “Chub Monster” Jimmy Moskel had teased all through middle school? She was still that same fat girl posed as a slimmed-down version. If people could see her without clothes on, they’d agree.
Argh. Constantly with the negative thoughts. Why did she do that to herself? No. It was just as her roommate, Ava, had said before Hadley left: it was time to let go of the outdated image Hadley had of herself. That’s what this trip was all about, after all. Could she do it? Could Hadley let herself transition to thirty and, at the same time, to a slim, fit woman? She had two months to give it an honest effort. If that didn’t work, she’d try therapy.
She turned away from the clerk and his customer and scanned the aisles and aisles of athletic shoes. How would she ever figure out what she needed without making a complete idiot of herself? Cross-training. Running. Walking. Aerobics. Were they kidding? How could she pick from all these shoes? Now, if the rows had been filled with wedges, stilettos, sandals, and the like, Hadley would have been in her element. She rubbed the beginnings of a headache from her temples.
“You look confused—trust me, everyone does when they come here the first time.”
Hadley whirled around to find the salesclerk staring at her again. Was it that obvious she’d never been in there before? “Yeah. Um. I think I’m going to just go.”
The boy shook his dark curls. “No way. You’re not leaving until you try on some shoes. You came in here for a reason. People don’t just browse in a store that smells like feet and Ben-Gay.” His eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure her out. “What are you looking for, really?”
What was she looking for? Acceptance. Peace. Ease in her own skin. Not that he could help with that. “Shoes, I guess.”
“Well then you are in the right store.” He chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Let’s see if we can narrow that down a bit. What do you plan to be doing while wearing said shoes?”
“I’m going on a vacation. Hiking, walking a lot, maybe some climbing—but not too much of that, I hope.” Hadley bit her lip until she tasted blood.
“Sounds like my kind of trip. Let’s start in the hiking section, and we’ll figure out which shoes are best for you.” Stewart pointed across the store then hung back as Hadley plodded over to the appointed aisle.
She felt his eyes burning holes in her back—she’d had enough practice in her life to know when she was being watched—and whipped around to catch him in the act. What was he staring at? Why didn’t he say something? He probably couldn’t believe she planned to do something physical. That had to be it. Fine. She’d leave before he said anything. Now, how to make her escape without being too obvious.
“Okay. I watched you walk—that’s how we can tell what your feet need. Your arches are a little flat, which is totally normal.”
Yeah, for fat people.
“Most people need some kind of adjustment, so we’ll find a shoe that compensates for that—you’ll be much more comfortable. Now. Hiking boot or shoe?”
Hadley shrugged. How would she know?
“How many miles a day do you plan to hike, and on what kind of terrain?”
Ugh. This got more personal with each question. Just spit it out so the questions stop. “I’m doing the Rainbow’s End geocaching hunt. It’ll be a lot of walking. I don’t know how much, but it’s a two-month event.”
Stewart’s eyes widened. “Oh man! I wanted to do it but couldn’t get enough vacation time to make it worthwhile. You’re going to have a blast.” He turned toward the wall of shoes. “Okay, well you’ll log lots of miles, probably on varied terrain. I recommend a hiking boot with a lot of breathability, because it’s really hot here this time of year. With that in mind, and considering your pronation, how about this pair?” He held up the boot under the sign ASOLO DRIFTER GV.
“They’re pink.” Cute shoe, but there was no way she could pull off something like that.
Stewart laughed. “The color is actually called grape-ade. This particular shoe is the best for comfort, durability, and breathability. There’s also a removable insert that will help with your overpronation. Try ‘em on. I think you’ll love them.”
Hadley wrestled to pull on the boots. Once in place, they felt amazing. She walked around a bit. Her feet really did feel different when they weren’t turning inward. “These are the ones. You’re really good at your job, Stewart.”
He talked her into a few pairs of socks that would keep her feet dry and some sealant for her boots then rang her up. “That’ll be two hundred ninety-three, eighty-six.”
Hadley handed over her credit card then signed for the purchase.
“Here you go.” Stewart cinched the bag. “I hope you enjoy them—and your hunt. Just be careful—skinny girls like you can overheat pretty easily.”
There was that word again. Skinny. Hadley glanced down at her body. Just because people said it, it didn’t mean it was true—obviously.
She stepped up to the door as it chimed, and waited for someone to step through. No one appeared, so she made a move toward the threshold, running right into the scruffy customer digging in his wallet.
She wobbled and dropped her bag.
His hand reached out to steady her as she bent to pick it up. “You okay?” the salesclerk called from behind the counter. “I’m fine—no harm done.” Hadley shot him a smile.
She pulled her sleeve from the stranger’s grip and looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Noah Spencer? Oh great. The last thing she needed.