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Chapter One
Delaney Brooks wasclosing up for the night when Bourbon Falls, Indiana, lost power. After five minutes of waiting with no improvement in sight, she scribbled instructions for her business partner to run their end-of-day reports before Oak Barrel Farms Landscaping reopened in the morning. Chase would understand. Besides, she was due to volunteer at Brooks Books in less than an hour. Though, if the town’s electricity remained out all night, their family bookstore might have to close early as well.
As happy as she was to help there, a rare weeknight off wouldn’t be so bad.
She taped her note for Chase to the inside of the front door and did one last scan of their shop: checkout counter was clean, wooden floors swept, indoor plants on display watered, knickknacks restocked and dusted. Some days, she had to pinch herself, the landscaping company she’d founded with longtime family friend Chase Redding still feeling like a dream come true. She made sure the light switches were all off to conserve electricity whenever it returned, then headed for the door.
It was common for summer storms to roll through northern Indiana, but losing power happened only during the big ones. Judging by the wind howling through the grove of oak trees surrounding her shop, tonight’s was shaping up to be a doozie. She hurried out to her vehicle, grateful for the thick canopy of leaves overhead, and prayed her friends and family were already home and safe from the storm.
Del turned out onto the road leading back into town, rain pelting her windshield faster than her wipers could keep up. Just as she began to wonder if it might be best to turn back, a bolt of lightning struck a tree up ahead, sending an explosion of sparks into the air. Del slammed on her brakes as the tree’s charred remains toppled into the road; she skidded to a stop just shy of the landing zone.
Wow, that was close.
Heart pounding, she scanned the mess of limbs now scattered across the road—a mess that would need to be removed before someone came along and plowed into it. That’s when she noticed the set of headlights approaching from the other direction. Del blared her horn, hoping to alert the other driver before they slammed into the downed tree and then into her. Fortunately, it worked.
Unfortunately, the other vehicle was much smaller and lighter than hers. Brakes locked, it hit a low spot in the road and hydroplaned across a patch of standing water. A streak of white veered off the road, tore through the adjoining yard, and buried itself in the jumble of weeds and long-forgotten shrubs that served as the entryway to their town’s newest and most reclusive resident:
Isaac Manning, aka Harry the Hermit.
Del threw her truck into park and jumped out to drag the debris as best she could to the side of the road. The driving rain did her no favors, quickly soaking her to the bone. Road hazard cleared, she turned her attention to the other vehicle, which had yet to move from its jungle destination. She hurried toward it, casting a quick glance toward the nearby driveway.
So far, no Harry. Thank goodness for small miracles.
Oh, they’d wanted to think the best of the newcomer. Had even tried to think of logical reasons for why he’d ignore repeated attempts to deliver home-baked cookies by Bourbon Falls’ Welcome Wagon. But when he’d come flying out of his garage, headed straight for a Cub Scout troop selling popcorn that second week—wild-eyed, shrieking, and waving a broom over his head—the troop hightailed it out of there. After that, the town collectively rolled up its welcome mat and let the man be. Thankfully, no one had seen hide nor hair of him since.
Del made a beeline past his drive toward the stranded car, not wanting to break the town’s lucky streak. Overgrown landscaping awaited her on its opposite side, a sea of thistles as tall as her vying for space among neglected Knock Out roses. She wove through the mess as best she could, water squishing between her toes every step of the way.
Definitely gonna need to stop at home to change before heading to the bookstore now.She knew no one would complain if stopping home for dry clothes caused her to be a few minutes late. Her aunt Faye owned the store and was always grateful for help, no matter how large or small.
In years past, business at the bookstore was booming and they employed an evening staff. But that was before a big book box store opened in neighboring Warsaw. Now it was up to the family to pitch in if they wanted their mother’s legacy to live on.
Thankfully, so far, everyone still did.
Worries about the bookstore came to a grinding halt as Del drew close enough to recognize the vehicle protruding from the township’s shaggiest arborvitae: a white Pontiac Vibe, her sixteen-year-old niece’s car.
“Brooklyn?” She moved faster now, thistles and bramble tearing at her exposed skin. “Brooklyn, is that you?”
“Aunt Del?” Oh, lord, it was her. What on earth had she been doing driving in the middle of a storm?
“Yes! Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
Relief washed over her as she ran. “Okay, hang on, I’m almost to you.”
“Hang on?” Brooklyn asked. “I’m totally stuck—where could I possibly go?”
Ah, teenage sarcasm.Del took it as a good sign and continued through the vegetation.
“Stop!”
Oh no.
Del slid to a halt at the unexpected deep voice, on the lookout for a crazy broom-wielding man. “Hello?” she called, squinting into the pouring rain. “Is someone there?”
“Yes. And you’re on private property.”
She turned in the direction of the voice, but still saw no one. Maybe Harry wasn’t ready to come out from hiding yet. Fine by her. “Listen, I’m Delaney Brooks, and my niece—”
