Gabby woke up after her first night in the carriage house nestled in her thick down comforter atop the mattress on the floor. She was toasty and warm, and sunlight was flooding in from the big window next to her. When she cracked open an eyelid, she saw the branches of a large oak tree right outside her window and a peek of bright green fields and woods beyond. But as consciousness dawned, the reality of a room full of unpacked boxes sent a jolt of reality through her.
A knock on the door jarred her fully awake. She heard her grandmother’s voice. “That child always could sleep through an earthquake. Knock louder, Walter.”
It suddenly dawned on her: it was Saturday morning, and her family was here to help her move in. She bolted out of bed and ran across the thick, knotty pine floors to the door and opened it. In front of her stood her father, Rachel, Nonna, and Rafe.
“Good morning, family,” she said, opening her arms wide and hugging her dad. “I’m sorry I overslept. I swear I set my alarm. Come in.”
Rafe entered first, carrying a rectangular donut box. Rachel carried a drink holder filled with cups of coffee from the Bean. They all piled in and headed for a tiny, whitewashed table next to a window.
“Nice digs,” Nonna said, looking around. “But why are there barn doors in here?”
“Because that’s the style now,” Gabby said, kissing her on the cheek. “Want a donut?” She reached into the box. “Jelly or cream stick?” she asked.
“Raspberry jelly, please,” Nonna said definitively, taking a seat. Gabby busied herself placing a donut on a napkin and dumping a creamer into Nonna’s coffee.
“Thank you, sweetie. Now you sit and eat,” Nonna said.
Gabby went to check her phone, which she swore she’d set an alarm on, and found it to be dead. “I forgot where I packed my charger.”
“No need to apologize,” Rachel said. “It’s Saturday, and you’ve just finished a long work week.”
“When I was young like her, I was on call every third night,” her dad said. “No sleeping in.”
“Walter, you’re a recovering workaholic,” Rachel said. “Do you really want to make your daughter feel guilty for sleeping in a little on a Saturday?”
Her dad took a sip of his coffee. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Just that I was never allowed to sleep in.”
“You poor thing,” Rachel said, smiling at Gabby. Gabby loved that Rachel always knew how to handle her dad’s rough edges.
Rafe ruffled her already disastrous hair. “Hey, Gabs. You look beautiful this morning.”
“Shut up,” she said, biting into a cream stick.
In response, he flexed his biceps. “Hey, I brought the brawn power to move your shit—I mean stuff. And we brought you Mom’s desk.”
Her anger dissolved. She was grateful Rafe and her father would help assemble her bed, arrange her furniture, and do the heavy lifting on anything she needed. “You brought me Mom’s desk? From the attic?”
A scratching sound at the screen door made everyone turn. A little black cat had stretched its lithe body the length of the screen and reached up as if it were reaching for the doorknob. Gabby jumped up and let it in. It ran right in and wound itself around Gabby’s legs. She grabbed a paper bowl off the counter and filled it with water. And poured some cat food into another bowl.
“You can’t find your phone charger or get dressed, but you have cat food?” Rafe asked.
She shot Rafe another look. Of all her siblings, she and Rafe had always fought the most passionately, yet they seemed to understand each other just as fiercely too.
Or at least it used to be like that. These past few years, Rafe didn’t seem to really open up to anybody, despite their best efforts.
“I bought some on the way home from work yesterday, okay?” Gabby said. “She’s been hanging around every evening this week when I was here cleaning and hauling over a few boxes. Meet Midnight. My new cat.”
“Maybe you should call her Twilight. Or Eleven O’Clock,” Rafe said, examining one white paw as the cat rubbed affectionately against his calf. “She’s a little odd looking.”
“So are you, and we kept you,” Gabby shot back.
“Honestly, you two,” Rachel said. “I sometimes feel like you’re back to being teenagers again.”
“You hurt her feelings, Rafe,” Gabby said, bending down to stroke the cat. “She’s a beauty.”
“She is a beauty,” Nonna said, stooping over to stroke the cat’s back. “I used to have a black cat when you kids were small.”
“What was its name again?” Rafe asked. “Hershey?”
“No,” Gabby said, “that was the little mini pinshcer we found that one time.”
“Coco,” Nonna said quickly—and accurately. Amazing how she could remember things so precisely from many years ago yet forget the simplest things from five minutes ago.
“This place is beautiful,” Rachel said, looking around with her usual discriminating taste at the exposed brick walls, the big windows, and the cute little kitchen.
“I’ve got the perfect place for Mom’s desk.” Gabby pointed to a little alcove with a window that overlooked rolling hills of pastureland surrounded by a white fence and forest and a little lake in the distance.
“What a beautiful view to inspire you,” Rachel said.
“Yeah,” Rafe said, peeking out the window. “And here comes something else inspiring for Gabby. Looks like he’s about six two, thick, wavy hair, tall, dark, and handsome…”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
Then a knock sounded at the door.
Gabby looked at Rafe. “Not joking,” he said smugly.
Panic set in. Gabby told herself, No, it couldn’t be—and yet somehow, she knew in her heart it was. She ran to the window and pushed aside the curtain. Cade was standing on the tiny front porch. She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair, which would take a good shower and a heavy hand to tame. “I can’t open the door looking like this!”
“Why not?” Nonna asked. “Is it somebody special?”
“It must be,” Rafe said. “Because Gabby wouldn’t comb her hair for just anyone.”
Gabby shot him a glare.
“Go change,” Rafe said. “We’ll get it.”
Rafe, although annoying, usually came through when she needed him. Gabby ran to the bedroom area and started digging through a suitcase of clothes. She’d finally found a pair of undies and was rummaging for her jeans when she heard the door open and Nonna say, “Oh my, you are a hottie.”
“Hi. I’m Cade,” a familiar deep voice said. “I’m looking for Gabby Langdon.”
After uttering a curse under her breath that only Rafe heard, based on his chuckle and the fact that he was standing nearest to her, Gabby turned to see Cade’s tall form gracing her doorway. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and had one hand on her bike as he bent to pet the cat with his other hand. The rolling fields and the lake framed him in the distance.
The sight of him made her breath catch. He caught her gaze and smiled. She dropped the undies like they were on fire. A flash of heat surged clear through her and bloomed on her cheeks, her throat went cotton-dry, and her palms got so sweaty she had to wipe them off on her pj pants. How long had it been since she’d had such a visceral reaction to a man? She couldn’t remember.
Her reaction completely rattled her, which made it all the worse. She became aware that Rachel was staring at her, although Rafe and her dad seemed oblivious, thank God, and Nonna, her priorities clear, had gone back to finishing her donut.
Professor, Gabby reminded herself, as she tried to reconcile the gorgeous man who was sending her into heart attack mode with all the male teachers she’d had in the past. Distinguished professors had beards like Walt Whitman’s, which they thoughtfully stroked. And little wire-rimmed glasses. And far less brawn. And maybe even little paunches. And they definitely didn’t look at their students like Cade was currently looking at her.
Cade’s mouth quirked up as his gaze swept over her calmly and slowly—her old T-shirt from law school that said “Make Love Not Law Review,” plaid flannel pants, and bare feet. Yet even in her embarrassment, Gabby felt his gaze boring through her in a way that made her suddenly aware of every muscle and bone. He was looking at her like a guy. An interested guy. Not like Walt Whitman. Or any other teacher she’d ever had.
Whatever she’d seen on his face, it was gone in an instant, making her wonder if it was a figment of her imagination. Rachel stood to shake Cade’s hand. “Come in,” she said, guiding him through the doorway before he had a chance to protest. At least someone had remembered how to speak and be polite.
Her dad, always friendly, shook his hand too.
Gabby walked over. “Cade, you know my dad. Meet my stepmom, Rachel, my brother, Rafe, and my nonna. Cade is a writing professor over at the college.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Cade said. “I’m just dropping off Gabby’s bike.”
“Help yourself,” Rafe said, opening the donut box in front of Cade.
“Thanks, I think I will.” He chose a cream stick, Gabby noted, her favorite.
Rafe pulled up a wooden chair that had been leaning against the wall, and Cade took a seat.
“So you’re Gabby’s teacher?” Rachel prompted.
“Is he her boyfriend?” Nonna fake-whispered to Rachel, loud enough for everyone to hear. Nonna pulled her eyeglasses down her nose and took a long look at Cade.
“I am her teacher,” he said, smiling at Nonna.
“And tell us, Cade, why do you have Gabby’s bike?” her dad asked with an interrogative tone reserved for suspected criminals, bill collectors, and potential boyfriends of his daughters.
“My daughter was having a little meltdown yesterday, and Gabby happened to drive by with chicken nuggets,” Cade said. “She left her bike at my house so I’m just returning it.”
“You had chicken nuggets and didn’t bring me any?” Rafe said.
Gabby frowned, sending him the message Just behave already, will you?
“Oh, you have a daughter?” Rachel asked, raising a brow. Gabby could practically hear her thoughts. Divorced, has a kid. Time to meet the minister.
“She’s three,” he said. “We just moved here.”
Nonna came to sit beside Gabby and whispered—in a very loud voice, “Who is he, Gabby?”
“Just a friend, Nonna,” Gabby said, but the next thing she knew, Nonna was leaning forward and tapping Cade on the knee.
“Hello,” Nonna said.
“Hi,” Cade said good-naturedly, extending a very masculine-looking hand.
Nonna took it and smiled. “Nice, strong handshake,” she said. “Just like Jacob’s.”
Gabby wondered if she should warn Cade that Nonna sometimes said inappropriate things. Well, make that a lot of times. “Who’s Jacob, Nonna?”
Nonna wasn’t letting go of Cade’s hand, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Jacob was my first love,” she said.
“You never told us about him before, Nonna,” Gabby said.
“He had eyes that same color,” she said, peering into Cade’s eyes. “Sometimes they were green, and sometimes they were blue-gray. Pretty eyes. Just like yours.”
“Well, I’m glad you like them,” Cade said, smiling sweetly at Nonna, and that made Gabby like him even more.
“You’re adorable,” Nonna said. “Are you married?” She tipped her head toward Gabby. “She’s thirty, and she needs a husband.”
“Okay, Nonna, he’s just here to return my bike,” Gabby said, hoping that would stop conversation. “Thank you,” she said to Cade, giving him a hint to exit.
“No problem,” Cade said.
“She was engaged to someone we didn’t like too much,” Nonna said, now on a roll. “Thought he was all that.”
“Oh, I’m…sorry to hear that,” Cade said. Okay, so it wasn’t enough Gabby’s hair looked like Helena Bonham Carter’s in Sweeney Todd, but now she was also getting embarrassed by her own family.
“How did Gabby meet you?” Nonna asked.
“Gabby’s my student,” Cade said, not seeming to mind the information was a repeat.
“What class are you taking now?” Nonna asked Gabby. “She’s always taking classes.”
“I’m taking creative writing, remember?” Gabby said, feeling heat burn her cheeks.
Rafe intervened. “Gabby loves learning things. First it was bartending, then photography, then EMT classes—”
Gabby couldn’t meet Cade’s gaze. Rafe was trying to be kind, but could she possibly be more embarrassed? “That’s enough, Rafe,” she said.
“We have a lot of different professionals in the class,” Cade said. “A lot of people with diverse backgrounds have an interest in writing.”
“I hope Ava’s better today,” Gabby said, steering the subject into safer territory.
“Much, thanks,” he said, flashing a smile. “Amazing what sleep and food will do for a three-year-old.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin and said, “Well, I’d better be going. Great to meet you all. And thanks for the donut.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Gabby said, which also sounded crazed because the carriage house was, like, one room.
Once they were outside the door, Cade walked over to where he’d parked Gabby’s bike. “I hope you don’t mind but I went over it a little. Put some air in your tires, tightened your seat, greased the chain.”
Gabby felt another rush of heat blaze into her cheeks. He was being perfectly nice but why did it all sound so…dirty?
As if to confirm her thoughts, Nonna, from inside, suddenly said, “Did you hear that? He greased her chain.”
“Thank you,” she said, ignoring the fact that her family was listening to every word. “That was very kind.” She was coming to think he was very kind—to melting down toddlers, to her, not only bringing back her bike but returning it in better condition than she’d left it.
“See you in class,” he said. “Have a nice weekend.”
She stopped him from walking away by saying, “I—just moved in. I was up late packing. I don’t usually sleep until noon.” She needed to stop blathering, but for some reason, she didn’t want him to leave just yet.
He smiled, and she couldn’t help noticing it reached all the way to his eyes. Today they looked gray-green, the same as his T-shirt. She wondered if they always tended to take on the color of his clothing.
“Hey, it’s Saturday,” he said. “No one has to get dressed—or brush their hair—if they don’t want to, right?” His mouth twitched, and his gaze swept over her again in a way that made her shiver despite the warm day. Then he raised his hand in a little wave and, with a last glance, headed for his truck, which was parked in the long gravel drive.
“Why did your professor have your bike again?” her father asked as soon as she’d stepped back through the door. “You went over to his house?”
“More importantly, why is he checking the air and tightening your seat? Oh, and greasing the chain?” Rafe said, laughing.
Gabby smacked him on the arm. Playfully. Mostly. “His daughter ate my Happy Meal, so he offered to get me another one and he ended up putting my bike in his truck. By the time we were done eating, it was too dark to ride it back home.”
“Is it a good idea to be on such friendly terms with your teacher?” Rachel asked. “Not that it’s my business.”
That was Rachel’s typical I’m-not-butting-in but-I’m-really-butting-in line that she’d perfected over the years.
“I just helped out his kid, no big deal,” Gabby said. “So can we get that desk now?”
“I’d eat chicken nuggets with that guy anytime,” Nonna said, going for another donut.
“Nonna, I’m not sure if you should have a third donut,” Gabby’s dad said.
Rachel gave him a dirty look.
“The sugar,” he said defensively. “The cholesterol.”
“When you’re eighty-nine years old,” Nonna said, “you can have all the donuts you want.”
“Aren’t you, like, only eighty, Nonna?” Rafe asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m old enough to have another donut if I want one.”
Rachel smiled at Gabby’s dad. “You heard her, Walter.”
Walter shrugged. “I know when I’ve lost a battle,” he said. “All right, Rafe, let’s go haul that desk out of your truck.”
As Walter and Rafe left the room, Nonna licked some cream off her thumb. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you not to eat donuts,” she said.
“Malcolm used to hate it when I ate junk food,” Gabby said. He never said anything if she went for seconds, but she could always see the disapproval in his eyes.
That bad thought was interrupted by the sound of the screen door banging. The men walked in carrying the desk and set it into the little alcove. It was a battered antique made of dark, polished wood and was badly in need of refinishing.
“So, Dad, what’s the story behind this thing, anyway?” Gabby asked. “Is it a family piece?”
“That old thing?” Nonna said, looking it over as the men set it down. “It’s an eyesore. Maybe you can donate it to Goodwill. Aren’t you a lawyer? You can afford a nice desk.”
Her dad stood up and smiled. “Your mother bought it at a garage sale back in the day when everything we owned was secondhand. She set it up in the living room of our apartment so she could work and watch you kids.”
Gabby could only imagine how that worked out—Evie and then Sara, two rambunctious little kids, with two more to follow.
“She’d want you to have this, Gabriella,” her dad said, wiping off the thick coating of dust from its surface. “Maybe you’ll do what your mother never got the chance to accomplish herself.”
Ah yes. Because of the cancer. That hung in the air and made everyone go momentarily silent.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said, giving him a hug. Her dad rarely spoke about their mother, and especially not in front of Rachel, but lately he seemed to be making an effort.
“Have you opened the box of your mom’s writing yet?” Rachel asked, looking at the myriad number of boxes that covered the floor of the small space.
“Um, no.” Gabby pointed to a medium-sized brown box near her bed that was stamped with a Corn Flakes logo.
“But you found that months ago,” Rafe said.
“And you were so excited,” Rachel added.
“Open it,” Nonna chimed in. “It’s like a box of chocolates. You don’t know what you’re going to get until you open it.” She paused thoughtfully. “What poet said that?”
“Forrest Gump, Nonna,” Dad and Rafe echoed at the same time.
“Well, when the time is right, the time is right,” Nonna said.
“Can’t argue with that,” Rachel said with a shrug. “When you’re ready, it will feel right.”
Before everyone left, Rachel insisted on taking a photo of all of them together in front of the desk, which was corny but also sweet.
Then Rachel looked at her watch. “Oh, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting a client at the store to let her look through some boxes of antique china.”
Rafe picked up the leftover donuts. “I’m happy to find these a home, if no one wants them,” he said, closing the lid.
“Right. In your stomach,” Gabby said. “I don’t think you should take those. You need to keep yourself in tip-top shape, ready for any emergency.”
“I’m a growing boy, Gabs. And be nice to me. I can stay and set the glass back onto the desk for you.”
“Fine. The donuts are yours.”
Rachel cornered Gabby on her way out. “I’m really excited about introducing you to our brand-new minister. He’s very good-looking and your age, and I think you two might just hit it off.”
Oh no, there it was. Rachel had been building up to this for the past several weeks, and there was no avoiding it. Gabby decided to be firm and snip the issue right in the bud. “Oh, thanks, Rachel, but I’m really busy right now, what with work and class—”
“He’s very busy too. I think you might find you two have quite a lot in common. Check your calendar for the next few weekends, okay?”
“Rachel, I—” Gabby could tell from the determined look she wore that she wasn’t going to back down.
“You’ve got nothing to lose,” she continued, nonplussed.
“Okay, fine,” Gabby said on a sigh.
Rachel kissed her and gave her a squeeze. “I’ll have him call you,” she said, a little too eagerly.
Nonna gave Gabby a hug and then they were gone.
After everyone left, Rafe cleaned the glass top of the writing desk with Windex. She dusted off the top of the desk and helped him place the glass on. Then they sat around talking, Rafe in her desk chair, Gabby on the couch. The box of her mom’s stuff sat a few feet away and Gabby couldn’t help but occasionally glance at it.
“Just open it, Gabs,” Rafe said, reaching into a box and pulling out a paperweight that Gabby had made in glass-blowing class, which he began to toss from hand to hand.
“How do you know I’m thinking about the box?”
“Because every other box around here is open except that one. What’s the problem?”
She shrugged. “It’s too weird to talk about.”
He leaned back in the desk chair and kept tossing. Maybe that was why Gabby always felt she could talk to Rafe. He didn’t judge, and he had this relaxed way about him that made him easy to talk to.
“Expectations, I guess. Nervous of what I’ll find. Afraid she was writing about some old love or something I don’t really want to know about—private stuff, you know?”
“On the other hand, it could be a great opportunity.”
“For what?”
“To see a side of our mother you’ve never seen before.” He paused. “Is that why you’re taking a writing class? To feel closer to Mom?”
She shrugged. “It’s just something I’m doing in my spare time.”
“Gabby, technically you don’t have any spare time. Try again.”
“Okay, fine, I guess Mom inspired me. I’ve always wanted to see if I’d be any good as a writer, and I thought now would be a good time to find out.”
“Well, I hope you at least find what you’re looking for. In the class and in that box. I hope whatever Mom wrote speaks to you in some way.”
“Thank you, Rafe.” She was getting a little teary eyed.
“So what’s the deal with that guy?” Rafe asked. He pulled out a penknife from his pocket and gestured to Gabby to push their mother’s box toward him.
She did, and Rafe split the top of the box open. The scent of old papers wafted up, always a comforting smell. But along with it came a whiff of fear. What if there was just some dull, old manuscript in there? What if it was…amateurish and not very good? What if there were no insights, no discoveries about her mom? Even worse, what if there were love scenes? She would definitely skip those.
“He literally is my writing professor. The chicken nugget story is true. That’s all.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with taking a class. Just that the man looks at you like a hungry wolf.”
“He does not.”
Rafe shot her a look that said, Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. “That’s not flattery, by the way. It’s a warning. Take it as a recommendation to stay away.”
“Why doesn’t anyone in our family think I can handle myself around men?”
He shrugged. “Because Malcolm wasn’t the greatest guy, and we all saw it before you did.”
“Okay, fair enough. But I’ve got my eyes wide open. What about you?”
“What do you mean, what about me?”
“I don’t know. You seem…lonely.”
“I love my job, I’m working on getting another side job, and I’m a single male in the prime of life. What more could I want?” Her brother was handsome and charming, with a disarming sense of humor, but she couldn’t help feeling that he was hiding something behind that happy-go-lucky, carefree attitude.
She wished Rafe would talk to her, but he never did, really. “If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.”
He smiled, his big, wide Rafe smile with dimples that made women sigh and fall at his feet. “I’m fine. But I appreciate your concern.” He got up and kissed her on the head. “I gotta go.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m helping somebody’s mother move some things into her attic.”
“Wait. Could that be Kaitlyn’s mom?” More evidence that Rafe was getting tangled up in Kaitlyn’s life.
Rafe rubbed his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I promised Kaitlyn I’d help move a few things.” He added quickly, “Then I’m going out with the guys.”
“You seem to be spending a lot of time with Kaitlyn,” Gabby said, not quite ready to let it go.
“Yeah, so what? We’re just friends.”
“Friends with benefits?” Gabby asked.
Rafe’s thick brows knit down as he frowned. “Absolutely not.”
Gabby held her hands out in defense. “Okay, don’t bite my head off. I’m just asking.”
“She’s been a friend for a long time. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.” He paused. “Hey, do you have a date for cousin Stephanie’s wedding?”
“I was planning on going with Kaitlyn. Why?”
“Well, I was going to ask her. As a friend, you know? Because she broke up with that guy she was dating.”
“Steve.”
“Yes. But I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”
Wait…is it possible he could want to ask Kaitlyn to be his date? “What’s the wrong idea?”
“That I’m…interested. That would definitely be the wrong idea.”
“Why would it be the wrong idea, Rafe?”
“Because I’m not interested in anyone, okay, Gabriella?” He tugged her hair, as if he were ten again. As if that would be enough to distract her from the truth, that maybe after all these years, Rafe finally liked somebody more than just to sleep with her but was too terrified to ask her out.
“Bye, Gabs,” Rafe said, heading for the door.
“Goodbye,” she called after his retreating from. “It’s okay to be human, you know that Rafe? Kaitlyn’s really nice. And God knows why, but she might actually like you back.”
Rafe disappeared with a wave of his hand. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Gabby alone in a space that was suddenly silent.
She sat down in the desk chair and traced her fingers along the desk, imagining how her mother must’ve done this same thing. Then she opened the drawers one by one. In the bottom right was an old manila folder. In it was a bunch of newspaper clippings. The first one showed a formal picture of her mother in a black V-neck sweater with a string of pearls. Her hair was curly and wild just like Gabby’s, and it was all poufed out and curled in a typical eighties style.
Her dad had often told her she resembled their mom the most, in looks and personality. She wondered if her mom had ever had man troubles. Or confusion about men. What was it like when she met her father? What had caused her to start writing?
Impulsively, Gabby reached into the box and pulled out a bundle of papers. Bound by a rubber band was a series of papers, like the kind one would turn in for a college class. Sure enough, the corner of every paper read, “Professor Bowman, Creative Writing, Section 10701.” Gabby flipped quickly through the papers. Nearly every single one had a big red “A” on the top and words like “Excellent!” “Fabulous job,” and “Fantastic.” One said, “Shows great promise—dig deeper!” Great. So her mother was an amazing student.
At the bottom of the pile was a little blue final exam booklet with an inscription on the cover: “I’ve enjoyed having you as a student. I hope you will continue writing after class ends because I see real promise in your work.”
Oh, wow. Her mother was talented—at least, her professor thought so. And she was lucky enough to have an encouraging professor—maybe a mentor, who seemed to believe in her. Wasn’t that everyone’s dream?
She thought about her mother. There was so much she would never know about her. Or about Rafe, who in his own way had closed himself off so it was only possible to know him to a point.
She refused to accept that on both counts. She would find a way to learn more about her mother. And Rafe—he didn’t look from the outside like he needed help, but he did. And she was going to be the one to crack his shell.