Page 31 of Taken Away

“I—thank you,” she managed. “I… I wish I’d gotten here sooner.”

Patsy squeezed her hands. “You’re here now. That counts.”

“Y’all let the girl breathe, for heaven’s sake,” Mary Lou called from somewhere behind them. “She’s had a day.”

The crowd thinned. A few more hugs, a few more quiet, earnest condolences, and then they drifted away—toward cars, casseroles, and lives Mabel had once anchored.

When the vestibule finally emptied, Aubrey stepped closer to the open doors. Cool mountain air slid over her face.

Out on the steps, Sheriff Burke stood talking quietly with Red Stephens. Farther down the sidewalk, Bennett McCrae was already walking away into the gray afternoon, his dark suit disappearing into the mist, head lowered against the drizzle.

A small, tired voice inside her whispered that it would be easier to follow his example. To get in her rental car, drive back to the hotel, and pretend she didn’t own a house filled with funeral flowers and memories that weren’t really hers.

She’d spent most of her life trying to find somewhere she fit. Somehow, she'd never expected that place to be here.

But Patsy's words refused to let go.

I’m so very glad you came home.

Whether she liked it or not, this town had treated her like she belonged to Mabel too.

She didn't know what to do with that.

SEVEN

Blackwood Estate

Evening

By the time Aubrey pulled the rental car beneath the wide timber overhang of the Blackwood Estate porte-cochere, full dark had settled over the valley.

Moose met her at the front door.

The Great Pyrenees didn’t bark. He simply pressed his one-hundred-and-twenty-pound frame against her legs the moment she stepped into the echoing silence of the foyer. For a long, motionless minute, Aubrey stood there with her designer handbag slung over her arm, one hand buried deep in the thick, slightly matted ruff of his neck. The suffocating scent of funeral lilies still clung to the fibers of her trench coat.

Treasure. Generous. Loyal. Beloved.

Fragments of the eulogies looped relentlessly through her head.

You should’ve known her better.

The thought hit hardest of all, a sudden, heavy ache that caught in her throat.

A flash of light cut through the gloom. Headlights swept briefly across the tall front windows, throwing long, skeletal silhouettes of the porch rockers across the pale walls. A diesel truck rolled slowly past the house, its tires crunching over the wet gravel before idling to a stop at the foot of the steps.

Bennett.

He didn’t get out. Through the rain-streaked glass of the sidelight, Aubrey watched him reach across the bench seat and lower the passenger window. He sat in the wash of dashboard light, completely motionless, swallowed by the gloom of the truck cab.

Aubrey pushed the heavy front door open, stepping onto the dry expanse of the porch. The cool mountain air moved softly between them.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The truck engine rattled, a low, mechanical heartbeat in the dark.

Finally, Bennett glanced up toward the house, his jaw tight, his dark hair slightly rumpled where he’d clearly plowed a hand through it.

“I’ll be by in the morning,” he said quietly, his low, smoke-roughened growl carrying through the damp air. “First thing. Somebody has to take you through the winery and show you the books.”

Aubrey stepped closer to the railing, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “You volunteered?”