five

Kensington had to be wrong. The Fergusons wouldn’t have sold to him. Hannah straightened her shoulders and knocked on the solid oak door. Sure, it needed a good sanding and refinishing, but they didn’t make doors like this anymore—with time and craft. The door creaked open.

Hannah stared into the aged eyes of Mrs. Ferguson. “You sold to Kensington?”

The twinkle faded a bit as she nodded and stepped back. “Please come in.”

Hannah followed the woman through the foyer and sat in the offered chair at the dining room table, surrounded by box after box of memories ready to be taped up and carried away.

Mrs. Ferguson poured two cups of tea and placed one in front of Hannah. “This teacup belonged to my grandmother. It was one of her only frivolous things that survived the Great Depression. Everything else had to be sold. Even the silver platters her mother had brought on the boat from England.”

Hannah ran her finger along the pale flowers that edged the rim of the ivory cup.

The woman’s eyes turned glassy. “I asked her once if she regretted having to sell so much. She said that stuff was just . . . stuff.” Her aged eyes shifted from sad to determined. “It was time to sell the house, Hannah.”

Hannah set the cup down. “But I could’ve found you a buyer. One who’d love this house.”

Mrs. Ferguson’s wrinkled hand landed on hers. “My oldest son, Evan, took his first steps right in that doorway. The same doorway where his father first kissed me under the mistletoe when we were just sixteen.”

“Then how can you let this all go?”

Her hand squeezed tighter. “It’s been a good house to us. But in the end, stuff is just stuff. Stuff that will pay for a nice retirement house near our grandkids. Kensington is offering more than we could hope for from a different buyer.”

Hannah nodded, not trusting her voice.

“You’re a dear and I thank you for trying, though. Don’t get too attached to things of this world, Hannah. Everything eventually passes away.” The woman patted her hand one more time and stood. “I’d love to visit more, but I need to get back to packing.”

Hannah followed Mrs. Ferguson to the door but paused by an old drawing hanging on the wall. “Is that the Manor?”

“My mother drew that in high school. Now that was a beautiful house back in the day.”

Hannah ran her fingers along the aged frame. “That it was.”

“Would you like it?”

Hannah yanked her hand back. “Oh, I couldn’t. It was your mother’s.”

“And junk to my children. If you like it, please take it. It will do my heart good.” Mrs. Ferguson lifted the picture from its hook and held it out to Hannah. “And I think I have some old town archives in the attic. When I find them, I’ll pass them along as well.”

“Thank you.” Hannah hugged the woman’s slight shoulders and then made her way to the car and angled the picture onto the passenger seat. She couldn’t save it all. She’d be lucky if she could save her own childhood home or the Manor.

A few minutes later, Hannah pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building and eased the drawing from the car.

“What’s that?”

Hannah spun around.

Janie leaned against her own car with two coffees and a bag of donuts. “First you ditch me for a mutt and then you miss running this morning.”

Hannah cringed and accepted one of the cups. “Sorry. I went to visit Mrs. Ferguson.”

Janie followed Hannah into her one-bedroom apartment. “Did they really sell to Kensington?”

“Yup.” Hannah leaned the photo against the wall in the living room. Living room? She supposed one could call it that. In this little apartment, the main room became the Swiss Army knife of rooms. Living room, dining room, office.

“I’m sorry.” Janie put one of the donuts on a plate and held it out.

Hannah took the plate and settled onto her gray IKEA couch. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“Have you heard from the vet?” Janie plopped in the worn leather recliner and tucked her feet beneath her.

“No.” Hannah’s voice caught. How could she be so attached to a dog she’d only seen conscious for less than ten seconds?

“Did the vet think it would live?”

“He could only tell me that it was a male dog, riddled with fleas, underfed, and suffering from a case of worms. He said he’d know more when the dog woke up—if he woke up.”

Janie’s face wrinkled. “Worms? Leave it to you, Hannah, to pick the most pathetic creature in the world for a pet. What are you going to do with him if he does live? You can’t have him here.”

“Assuming when he does wake up that he’s more like Lassie and less like Cujo, I was hoping Luke would keep him for me, but he said no.”

“I’m sure you can think of ways to convince Luke to take him.” Janie wiggled her eyebrows at Hannah.

“Stop. Luke made it clear years ago that we’re only friends, and he hasn’t seemed to change his mind.” The words came out more clipped than she’d intended.

Normally, Hannah let Janie’s teasing about Luke roll off her back. But today . . . today was different. Today still had Luke’s scent imprinted in her memory and the warmth of his breath seared on her skin.

Hannah drew a large swallow of coffee then set it aside. “Here’s news. Cindy Monroe works at the vet down in Muskegon.”

Janie’s eyes popped wide. “As in—”

“The very one.” The past burned through her memory just as much as it had the other night.

Janie blinked twice. “Wow. That must have been . . . awkward.”

“You could say that.” Hannah stared back at her donut. She wasn’t hungry anymore. The memory of the way Cindy had been fawning all over Luke still turned her stomach.

“What did Luke say?”

“What does Luke always say? Nothing.”

Janie leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Take it from me, Hannah, you two need to learn to talk it out before one of you ends up engaged to someone else and there’s so much left unsaid. Oh, and then you end up working together. Did you know about that little detail when you foisted me on your aunt?”

Hannah held up her hands as a shield. “No, I swear. But . . . it could be a good opportunity—”

“Don’t, Hannah.” Janie flicked her gaze to Hannah, redness rimming her eyes. “He’s moved on. If I didn’t need a job, I’d quit now.” She laid her head back and closed her eyes again. “But if you’re really not interested in Luke, maybe I’ll ask him out?”

“What?” Hannah’s voice cracked.

“See, not as much fun when others mess in your business, is it? Just admit you’re in love with him already and be done with it.”

Hannah dusted the sugar from her hands. “Isn’t that a cool old drawing of the Manor?”

“Nice redirection.” Janie studied the drawing. “It looks so much better without the old run-down vet houses in the next lot.”

“Vet houses?”

“Yeah, my dad said they were built by the government during the housing crisis after World War II. They need to be torn down.”

Hannah stared at the picture. “That’s it. We may not be able to fix the Manor up yet, but we could clear the area around it to make a park. Then the money we win could be used to turn the Manor into a museum or library.”

“That’d be cool, but how will you remove the houses?”

Hannah’s phone vibrated. “Hello?”

“This is Cindy. Dr. Gascho has cleared your dog and he’ll be ready on Wednesday.” Her short, clipped voice offered no warmth.

“Wednesday? Okay, so he’s healthy?” And not like Cujo?

“The doctor will explain all the details when you pick him up.” With that, the line went dead.

She owned a dog.

Now to convince Luke to take that dog and figure out how to turn this idea for the town into a plan before the next council meeting. But what did she know about coming up with an impressive business plan?

Derek’s face floated into her mind. As much as she hated it, maybe it was time to ask him for a little help.

Six hours ago she’d been ready to quit, but at this rate she’d be lucky if they didn’t fire her before the two months were up. Janie ran her hands under the warm water and added some soap. The sweet scent of strawberries and cream surrounded her, doing its best to soothe her tattered nerves.

She’d messed up the cinnamon rolls and the coffee cake first thing. Lucy had said not to worry about it, but how could she not? She’d just completed six months of baking with some of the finest teachers in Paris and couldn’t even get basic measurements right.

She tried to blame it on switching back from the metric system, but she knew the real reason had less to do with measurement conversion and more to do with a six-foot dark blond who breezed by her about every ten minutes, leaving a lingering musky familiarity. Every whiff took her back to another memory.

Maybe she’d buy him a new bottle of cologne. One that smelled like . . . mint. Her grandfather smelled like mint. It was comforting but definitely wouldn’t take her mind places it shouldn’t go.

“You must be Janie.” A girl who redefined the word petite stepped into the kitchen and loosened the knot on her apron, her words flying a mile a minute. “I’m Noel. There’re a few other servers who pick up an odd shift here and there but for the most part it’s Olivia and me. I remember you from school but I was a few years younger than you so you probably don’t remember me. I’m off now but it was nice meeting you. I don’t work tomorrow but I’ll see you the next day.”

Janie blinked at her, mentally decoding the fire hose of words that had just come at her. “Did you say your name is Noel?”

“I know, right? I was born with bright red hair and green eyes and my parents named me Christmas. Or the equivalent of. I guess I should just be glad I wasn’t born with blue eyes or they might have named me America or maybe Liberty.” She pulled open the back door. “Anyway, gotta go.”

The door slammed, and Janie stared at the rattling panes of glass.

Her sister pushed into the kitchen. The moist fine hairs around her brow testified to her long day as well. “You look like you’ve been Noeled.”

“Does she always talk that fast—or that much?”

“Honestly, I don’t understand half of what she tells me, but we seem to get along just fine. Just smile and nod.” Olivia fanned her face with a menu and leaned against the counter. Her pale blonde top bun brushed against the shelf. She was tall even without heels. “That pie of yours is selling like hotcakes. Please tell me you’re making another.”

“Nope. Bread.” Janie dried her hands and started gathering ingredients.

“Uhhh, you’re killing me.”

If the pie had been a flop too, Janie might have thrown in her apron then and there. But she’d finally gotten something right and Lucy seemed more than pleased. Of course, she’d made the pie when Thomas was taking a break. No matter. She just had to get the first-day jitters out. Now she was on a roll.

The ring of a bell split the air.

“Sounds like someone is ready to pay.” Olivia turned back through the door. “Hurry up with the bread. Dinner rush will be starting soon.”

Janie checked the time on the wall clock. Twenty-five after four. Great, Thomas would be—

The kitchen door swung open as Thomas breezed in, snagged his apron, and walked back out.

—back soon.

Janie focused on the bowl. She was the pastry chef and a doggone good one too. She could make a loaf of bread. She just needed to mix this up, then she could leave the kitchen while it rose. She combined the ingredients, flipped on the mixer, and watched the dough hook do the hard part.

After a few minutes, she pulled the bowl away from the mixer, covered it with a cheesecloth, and set it near the warm oven to rise. She wiped her hands on her apron and marched toward the main door.

Thomas stepped through, nearly colliding with her. He caught her by the shoulders to steady her and then snapped his hands back. “Sorry.”

The warmth left by his fingers remained, and it took every ounce of strength not to reach for him. She steadied her nerves and looked up with her practiced indifferent expression.

Why was he looking at her like that?

Come to think of it, she’d practiced the expression in front of the mirror, but she really should have run it by Olivia. She’d hate to think she looked as if she were in pain.

His focus stopped on her lips. Or maybe he—

“You have flour on your chin.” He stepped past her, taking care not to even brush against her.

“What?” She swallowed hard.

“Flour on your chin. I thought you’d want to know before you went out.” He snagged a few tags from the ticket holder, pulled a few patties from the cooler, and dropped them on the grill. The sizzle of the meat filled the air and cut off all other communication.

Janie glanced in the mirror by the sink and wiped her chin. Thomas having second thoughts? She had to get over herself. He wasn’t interested. Done deal. Move on. She pushed through the door into the main diner.

“Finally.” Olivia shoved a tray at her. “Take these fries to table nine!”

“Nine?”

Olivia grabbed her shoulder and pointed to a booth by the window. “The one with Pastor Nate.”

Pastor Nate?

She eyed the three possibilities at the tables. One was a woman, so not Pastor Nate—unless Nate stood for Natalie. But she’d guess not. The other two were men. One wore a three-piece suit and had a graying beard, while the other had a tattoo peeking out of his collar. Pastors did suits, not tats, right?

“Pastor Nate?”

The first man glanced up from his tablet and shook his head.

“Over here.”

Janie spun and faced the tattooed man. “Your fries?”

“Thanks.” He accepted the fries then extended his hand. “You can call me Nate.”

He couldn’t be that much older than she was. His hair, nearly black, was a little long for her tastes, but with his scar from an eyebrow piercing and a few days’ worth of scruff across his square jaw, it suited him. Like a bad boy of Hollywood.

“Do I have something on my face?” He rubbed his hand across his chin.

“No. I’m sorry. You’re just not what I expected for the pastor in Heritage. LA maybe. A lot did change while I was gone.”

“I wasn’t quite what the town was expecting either.” He motioned to one of his tattoos. “And I’m guessing you’re Olivia’s sister who was in Paris.”

It all came back to her. “Yes. And you’re Leah and Caroline’s cousin.”

An unreadable expression crossed his face as he glanced toward the counter. Janie followed his gaze. Olivia eyed them before she pushed back into the kitchen. What was that about?

He focused back on her, but some of the smile had dimmed from his eyes. “So, can I count on seeing you Sunday?”

“Absolutely. You have a good meal—uh, fries.”

The bell jingled and Madison breezed through the door and walked directly back to the kitchen.

Janie held up her hand. “You can’t go back—”

Madison’s icy glare silenced her. She bit back a string of words that came to mind. The order window offered a perfect view of Madison rising on tiptoes to plant a kiss on Thomas’s neck.

She had to get out of here, but where? She eyed a side door by the cash register. Today was as good a day as any to explore where that went. Even a closet would give her a moment to compose herself.

Janie turned the deadbolt in the door and stepped inside. Light shone through butcher paper that had been taped on the front windows. Iron chairs rested upside down on their matching tables, all lined up opposite an antique-style counter. This had to be the business next door.

“Isn’t it great?” Lucy appeared in the doorway. “Don and I bought it fifteen years ago when we were considering expanding, but when the economy went south so did our plans. We’ve put it up for sale several times but haven’t had one bite.”

“I love the counter.” Janie reached out to the wood but stopped. A thick layer of dust covered every surface.

“It was a candy shop. They had the best truffles, but like many businesses in this town, they didn’t make it.” She stared at Janie, then wiped her thumb across her cheek—no doubt a smudge of flour Janie had missed. “Are you sure you can do this for the next couple months?”

Janie shifted her weight to the other foot. “I don’t know. But he’s moved on. I can too.”

“I explained to Madison she isn’t allowed back in the kitchen during hours of operation. But I can’t promise that will keep her away.” Lucy dusted her palms across her apron.

“I can do it. I will do it.” Janie forced back the tears. “Time to check the bread.”

By the time Janie returned to the kitchen, Thomas was nowhere in sight. She lifted the cheesecloth covering the dough. Her heart dropped. The dough remained in a small, dense lump. It hadn’t risen one bit. She closed her eyes and ran through the recipe in her mind. She’d measured it all right, of that she was certain.

Yeast. She’d forgotten the yeast. Janie blinked several times, forcing herself not to cry. Why did she ever think this job was a good idea?

Luke had witnessed Hannah doing some crazy things over the years, but this one outdid them all. When she’d called and announced she needed to drop by for a chat, he’d expected she’d try once again to convince him to take the dog.

He’d spent the last hour making a mental list of all the reasons he couldn’t and wouldn’t let the dog stay with him. And if the list failed, he’d shift the conversation to his birth certificate, which he still hadn’t found a way to talk to her about. But all his plans flew from his mind when she started talking about something even crazier.

He watched her across the table. Her lips were still moving, but he’d stopped listening after the words “set the middle of town on fire.” Maybe she’d finally lost her mind. Well, if she hadn’t, he was about to.

Luke raised his hand. “Hannah, stop. You can’t set the town on fire.”

“Not the whole town.” Hannah huffed and shook her head. “Just three houses.”

“That’s better?” Luke gulped his coffee. Cold. He stood, dumped the black brew in the sink, and poured himself another cup. He needed all his synapses firing for this conversation.

She pulled a piece of scrap paper from the recycling bin and a pen from the drawer. “Just stay with me.”

Like that was an easy goal.

Hannah mapped out the center of town but left out the row of condemned houses. “Just imagine the Manor standing alone in a park in all its glory.”

“Its glory?”

“Not yet. But it will be. And around it—a beautiful park.” She added bushes, trees, and a swing set to the drawing. “Every town needs a center point of gathering, like in Stars Hollow, where they had that great gazebo. For Heritage, it will be the Manor.”

He turned to offer Hannah a cup of coffee but thought better of it. The girl didn’t need caffeine right now. “Stars what?”

“The town in Gilmore Girls? The television show.” Hannah dismissed his question with a wave of her hand.

He sat and took a gulp from his steaming mug. “So, you want to knock down a bunch of condemned houses to make another condemned building the gathering point?”

“The Manor isn’t condemned. That’s a vicious rumor. The vet houses were condemned ten to fifteen years ago. The owners didn’t want to pay to demolish them and didn’t want to pay taxes, so all were eventually reacquired by the town because of unpaid back taxes. The Manor was donated to the town. The only reason the vet houses still stand is that it’s too much money and too much hassle to get rid of them.”

“I’m not surprised.” He tilted his head and lifted his cup to her. “But why would the Manor be a place to gather? Condemned or not, it’s no place to hang out.”

She leaned her elbows on the table and stared at him. “The park will be the place to hang out. And when we win the grant money we can make the Manor a community building for events. Maybe add a library or museum. With these other buildings gone, it will open the whole block up.”

“Then why not knock them down? You don’t have to set the town on fire.”

“That’s what I thought, but Derek looked into it and the closest dump is across county lines. We’d have to pay major fees due to some of it being hazardous waste.”

“What about the fees for burning hazardous waste?”

“For the fire department to burn them we have to have any asbestos removed. But the rest is controlled by the town so if the board approves, they just have to sign off that they won’t fine themselves. Trust me. The buildings need to be burned. If you think they’re bad on the outside, you should see the inside—”

“Inside?” Luke choked as he attempted to swallow. “They’re condemned. Who let you in?”

“Janie and I just walked in.”

He set down his mug and gripped the edge of the table. “The doors are locked.”

“Fine, we walked in through a window.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Just the first one. The window is missing. It was in bad shape with nasty old furniture. They’re a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

Luke growled. “That’s why people are supposed to stay out. Including you.”

Hannah stared at him before turning back to the rough map she’d drawn. “Anyway, Derek gave me a bunch of research about other towns using such buildings for training burns.”

“That is the second time you’ve mentioned Derek. Are you spending time with him now?”

“No. The board suggested that he give me some help with my plan, and since I need the board’s approval for this project, I agreed to his input. That’s all it is.” She dismissed the idea with another wave of her hand. “Even you have said before that the Heritage Fire Department needs more training. Well, set the houses on fire and train.”

She was dead serious. She had no idea how dangerous it could prove to be. It would have to be an all-hands operation with the surrounding fire departments standing by. With so many buildings in a row, the challenge would be controlling the burn. If they got more than one hot at a time, it could end up decimating the whole town. And if she wanted to save the Manor, this wouldn’t be a walk in the park.

Luke ran his fingers through his hair and dropped his elbows on the table. “So if Ted, his father, and the town council agree—and that’s a big if—you really think this will win you the grant?”

“The article said it’s looking for towns that are ambitious and ready to do what it takes to turn over a new leaf. What’s more ambitious than burning the middle of town?” Hannah glanced at her watch. “I told Aunt Lucy I’d help them pack the car. I’m telling you this is it.”

Luke groaned and shook his head. “And here I thought I was going to have to talk you out of bringing me that dog.” He leaned back in his chair and downed the last of his coffee.

Hannah moved to the door and paused with an impish smile. “Right, the dog. He’ll be here Wednesday. See you then.” She dashed out, slamming the door before he could even swallow.

Luke bolted to it and whipped it open. Her car was already pulling away from the curb.

He wasn’t taking that dog.

Jimmy’s red rider bike lay discarded in front of his porch. Luke hopped off the steps and peered under the porch. Jimmy huddled in a ball, shivering, with tearstained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

“Hey, bud, what’s up?”

Jimmy brushed his wet cheeks with the backs of his hands, leaving dirt streaks behind. “Nothin’.”

“Really? Hmm. Then why are you under here? Let’s go shoot hoops.”

The boy shrugged. “Okay, somethin’. But you can’t help.”

“Try me.” Luke shifted his weight and leaned against the side of the house.

The boy stayed mute as if waiting for Luke to give up and leave. Wasn’t going to happen.

Jimmy sighed as he wiped his nose across his sleeve. “Mrs. Adams is all-ee-geric to dogs.”

“Were you hoping for a dog?”

“I asked for one for my birthday. Always wanted a dog. Mom always said she didn’t need another mongrel to feed. What’s a mongrel?”

Luke ruffled the boy’s hair. “Guess what? I’m getting a dog on Wednesday.”

Where did that come from? That was not what he’d meant to say.

The boy’s wide eyes filled with hope. “Really? Can I play with him?”

No going back now. But perhaps this was the next step in learning to be there for someone, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone. And this step might look like a four-legged, slobbery mess. “Yup. Anytime you want.”

Jimmy let out a whoop and jumped up. “Can we play ball now?”

“Sure thing.”

See, opening up wasn’t so hard. Luke forced down the anxiety building. He’d do it one day at a time.