Let them all believe it was Tony Bickford, she told herself. As long as nobody guessed it was Case she’d pictured in her mind while writing that book, she didn’t care what they thought. And as for the horribly tragic accident, maybe her inspiration should have asked Gwen to the winter carnival dance instead of Mallory.
Then, no matter how hard she pressed her lips together, she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. “Did you read it?”
He chuckled, and her heart sank as she anticipated him trying to come up with all kinds of excuses as to why he hadn’t read the book that made her a literary household name almost overnight. Or the two books she’d had published since, to significantly less acclaim.
“Of course I read it,” he finally said. “I’ve read them all.”
Warmth spread through her, and she was uncomfortably aware that he could probably see it on her cheeks. But there was nothing she could do to stop it, because all her mind wanted to do was wallow in the satisfaction that Case Danforth had read all of her books.
“I usually read nonfiction stuff and maybe a few thrillers here and there, but you’re a damn good writer and the setting was so real, I could imagine myself in it.” He paused and then grinned. “Maybe because I actually live here.”
She reached out and slapped his arm, but she couldn’t help laughing and he joined in. It felt so good to laugh. Living alone, a book or movie would sometimes make her chuckle. On the rare occasion she went out with friends or attended a social event, she was usually quiet and content to let the others do the talking and laughing. She almost never really, truly laughed except when she was with family or lifelong friends she was comfortable with.
Lifelong friends like Case Danforth, apparently.
“I guess I missed something,” Ellen said as she stepped out onto the porch. “But I did find a new notebook that I can use just for the brewery so I don’t miss any ofthat.”
Gwen almost asked where her dad’s notebook was. She remembered him scribbling in an old leather journal sometimes, when he had thoughts on a new beer he’d tried or ideas for interesting flavors. It contained many years’ worth of planning for what they were trying to do here, so she was a little surprised she hadn’t seen it. But her mom was writing in her spiral-bound notebook and Gwen didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought, so she didn’t ask about it. Maybe it was too painful for her mom to add notes where her husband had left off.
While Case very patiently went over everything they’d talked about for a second time, Gwen felt herself relaxing and taking in her surroundings. The low timbre of his voice. The comfort of the shade as the morning sun started heating up the yard. And Boomer, who decided to get up and lumber over for ear scratches. He propped his chin on her knee and gazed up at her adoringly while she scratched the top of his head, and he was so cute Gwen couldn’t help turning to smile at the dog’s human.
Case was smiling, too. While Ellen bent over the notebook on her lap, scribbling notes, he was watching her, and Gwen couldn’t force herself to look away when his dark gaze locked with hers. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and she shivered at the heat she imagined she saw there—there was definitely something different in the way he was looking at her.
Then Boomer nudged her hand and she realized she’d stopped scratching, so she tore her attention away from the man and turned it back to the dog.
Nope, she wasn’t going to think about Case and his laugh and his eyes and the way he’d just looked at her. She wasn’t going to think about it at all.
Chapter Three
It’s the final week of school, Stonefield! With summer vacation almost upon us, we have a couple of bargains to share with our readers to help you be prepared. Sutton’s Seconds is taking 20% off their outdoor toys, as well as 10% off video games and DVDs, so head to the thrift store for summer entertainment. And Dearborn’s Market has BOGO deals on popsicles, as well as deep discounts on Tylenol and wine, so stock up now!
—Stonefield GazetteFacebook Page
Gwen stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars she’d stuck on her ceiling at some point during her middle school years, listening to the thump of footsteps and the yelling about homework and then the louder yelling about what was going to happen to the video game console if the boys were late to school again.
Usually her mornings consisted of brewing herself a mug of coffee and sitting at the table with her journal, reviewing her notes from the day before and writing out what she wanted to accomplish for the day. Shouting and banging and stars that had stopped glowing years ago—though she had to admire the longevity of the adhesive—were never part of the routine.
After she heard the boys’ voices on the sidewalk outside her window—which faced the street and the Danforth house—she threw back the covers and got ready to face her morning. Her journal was still in her bag and she didn’t bother digging for it. While she was going to get the coffee part of the ritual, she had no doubt peace and quiet would be in short supply.
Meanwhile, her beautiful and modern condo was sitting empty and silent, except for the cleaning service she’d asked to go from visiting weekly to every two weeks while she was away. And her neighbor would be gathering her mail—which she didn’t get a lot of, other than junk, thanks to doing everything online—and letting Gwen know if anything looked important.
For now, she’d be making do in her beautiful but very unmodern childhood home. The DIY makeover had taken her parents so long that by the time they finished, the rooms they’d started with were already outdated. The kitchen had a second refresh in 2005 and it would probably live in that decade for a long time.
One of the benefits of growing up in a house that had once been a very upscale inn was that her room had its own bathroom, as did Mallory’s. Evie, being the youngest, shared a bathroom between her room and the rarely used guest room, which was almost as good. Those two rooms were Jack’s and Eli’s now, and she realized as she showered that she had no idea where Evie had slept.
She’d told her parents several times that keeping the largest of the rooms—outside of the master suite, of course—for her was ridiculous because she rarely slept in it and Mallory actually lived in the house. But Mallory said she was content with the arrangement as it was and didn’t care to move everything around, and their mother seemed to take some pleasure out of making sure they all still felt like the house was their home.
Except for Evie, she thought. Maybe they’d temporarily put the boys in one room and given Evie hers back, but Gwen knew she should at least ask. Although, knowing her youngest sister, she probably just crashed on the couch or curled up in her ancient Jeep. That go-with-the-flow attitude that often grated on Gwen’s nerves did come in handy sometimes.
When she reached the kitchen, desperate for a shot of caffeine, she found Mallory sitting at the table with her hands curled around a mug, just staring into the steaming liquid. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Gwen.” She looked up and Gwen frowned when she saw how exhausted her sister looked. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Not bad,” she lied as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe. Not finding half-and-half in the fridge was a disappointment, but at least she’d have caffeine. “How about you?”
Mal shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t sleep all that great anymore. There’s a lot going on, you know?”
The guilt washing over her took some of the joy out of her first sip of coffee—though it would have been better with the half-and-half—and Gwen sat across from her sister. “We’re here to help now. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.”
