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  Sometimes, late at night, when the angry buzz of mosquitoes just outside the net draped over her bed kept sleep at bay, her thoughts drifted to him and the memory of her first and, judging by her transient relationships since, only love.

  It seemed cosmically cruel that they were in Emmett’s Mill at the same time. Seeing him again only reminded her of what might have been. And she hated it.

  Unlike her peers, who’d boasted at graduation that they couldn’t wait to get out of their tiny town, Tasha had known once she graduated from Stanford she’d come back. It was all planned out in her mind. Of course, at seventeen she’d been a bit naive. There wasn’t much call for an anthropologist in Emmett’s Mill unless she wanted to parlay her expensive education into a teaching position at the high school. And, she’d figured that she and Josh would make their home—complete with a white picket fence and marigolds planted along the cobblestone walkway—somewhere here, but she hadn’t figured out what Josh would do for a living, either. Josh hadn’t shown any interest in going to college, but she’d always assumed that she could talk him into going to community college, at least while she was at Stanford.

  A small, disgusted sound escaped her as she drove, wondering how she’d ever been so innocent. Nothing had turned out the way she’d planned in her head.

  Before she realized where she was going, she turned down Crystal Aire Drive and cruised past the law offices of Parker and Dalton, formerly known as Lewis, Parker and Dalton before Bronson Lewis died five years ago.

  She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and willed her heartbeat to slow to a normal rate. He couldn’t hurt her. He was dead. But seeing the scene of the crime again made a fine sheen of sweat bead her upper lip despite the winter chill in the air, and her fingers curled around the steering wheel tight enough to make the leather squeal in protest. She avoided this place for a reason. She had no problem seeing herself at twenty-two, walking past the receptionists with a grin, chatting animatedly about her adventures in college life, flashing bright smiles at someone she’d always considered a family friend.

  Her father’s best friend.

  A shudder traveled through her body painfully and she pushed her foot down on the gas pedal, anxious to get away from the memory and the humiliation that was always there under the surface for being so dumb, so trusting and so easily a victim.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE NEXT DAY ALL THREE sisters stood staring at the same thing, unable to quite comprehend what they were seeing.

  Nora was the first to recover, pointing wildly. “What the hell is that?”

  Natalie stammered. “I think…it’s where the draft is coming from.”

  “You think?” Nora’s dry retort only echoed what Tasha was thinking, but the bewildered expression on Natalie’s face had kept her silent. Her poor sister looked on the verge of tears as they all stared at the giant, gaping hole in the side of their parents’ house covered with plastic sheeting and secured with duct tape, all wondering the same thing.

  “I take it nobody knew about this?” Tasha ventured cautiously, and was rewarded with a shake of Natalie’s head. Tasha exhaled slowly. “Okay, that brings me to my next question…how is that no one noticed a hole in the hobby room?”

  Natalie stood rigid, her fists clenched tightly at her side as she bit out the words. “Dad always kept this door closed. He’s very private so I never even thought about it. And then, with Mom so sick…”

  “Why didn’t Dad say something?” Tasha asked, confounded. “Did he think this was something that would go unnoticed?”

  “Well, it seems it did,” Nora interjected with ill-timed humor, and received a quelling look from Natalie.

  “I don’t know,” Natalie answered heavily. “I honestly don’t have a clue. And I should have. God, how could I have missed this?”

  “Hold on, it’s not your fault.” Tasha frowned, hating that Nat was ready to crucify herself. “Dad should’ve said something. It’s not your job to parent our parents.”

  “Sage advice from the one who’s never around,” Nora said under her breath, but not quietly enough for Tasha to miss.

  Tasha pointedly ignored that not-so-subtle dig and placed a hand on Natalie’s shoulder, giving her a look that said breathe, before taking a breath herself to assess the damage. “It looks like a tree fell through it,” she surmised, cocking her head to the side as she stepped into the room, looking for evidence to support her guess.

  “Maybe a small pine or something during the last storm,” Nora said, adding her two cents, then shook her head in annoyance. “Damn, it’s just like Dad to hide something like this.”

  “Natalie, go find him. We’ll get to the bottom of this and fix it,” Tasha decided.

  But Natalie was spared the effort as their father appeared in the hallway, and once he saw what they were staring at, his expression went from a man lost in a fog of his own grief to one who knew he was guilty.

  Tasha expected bluster but he simply pursed his lips and said, “Close the door. You’re letting in a draft.” He turned around and shuffled toward the kitchen.

  “A draft?” Tasha repeated, and was the first to follow. “That is not a draft. That—” she pointed toward the bedroom “—is a health hazard. There’s a freaking hole in the wall! How long has this been like this?”

  “What difference does it make?” their dad muttered, openly annoyed. “There’s a hole and that’s why the damn door was closed.”

  Tasha took one look at her sisters, who were watching her closely with silent encouragement, and refused to back down. “Dad, why didn’t you tell someone? You could’ve had someone come out and take a look, give you an estimate and have it fixed within a week or two. Was it like this when Mom was sick?”

  He refused to answer.

  “Dad? Was it like this when Mom was sick?” Tasha repeated.

  “The door was shut and it was closed off. Besides, no one went in there, anyway,” he answered defensively, his gaze darting from one daughter to the other. “I stuffed towels under the door and that kept out the draft. There’s nothing to get yourself all worked up about.”

  Natalie joined the fray. “Dad, this is very serious. We have to get it fixed right away. This can’t wait until spring.”

  He waved away her concern and started to walk away. “Leave it.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Tasha called after him, his attitude percolating her own temper. “We’re going to get it fixed whether you like it or not.”

  “Tasha.” Natalie tugged at Tasha’s sleeve with a frown. “That’s not the best way to get him to agree.”

  “I don’t care. That hole is a structural hazard to the rest of the house. It has to be fixed.” Stubborn old man. Probably would’ve let the house fall down around his ears if they hadn’t stumbled upon it. She huffed a sharp breath and turned to her sisters. “So, who are we going to find to fix this?” she asked, glancing back in the direction of the damage.

  “The best handyman in the area kicked the bucket a few months back, and I wouldn’t trust his son to build a doghouse, much less repair a gaping hole,” Nora said.

  “Well, that’s easy…the Halvorsens, of course,” Natalie said. “I don’t think in Dad’s current state of mind he’d let anyone else into the house.”

  “I don’t know,” Tasha said, shaking her head, not thrilled with the idea. “I’m sure there must be someone else.”

  “What’s wrong with Josh?” Natalie asked, immediately warming to the idea. “He’s working with his brothers at Halvorsen Construction. I’ll bet he might even offer us a discount given the circumstances.”

  “That wouldn’t be right,” Tasha argued. “He has a son to provide for. If we were to hire him we’d pay him the going wage.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Nora said. “Dean and Sammy will help us out. Besides, with the winter, they’re probably a little slow. They’d more than likely welcome the work.”

  Natalie agreed. “Can you call him? Ask
him to come out and give us an estimate?”

  “Why can’t one of you ask? Josh and I aren’t close anymore,” Tasha said, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s not like we call each other up to chat.”

  “True, but I have errands to run this morning before I head to the bookstore, and Nora is going to take Dad to his doctor’s appointment.”

  “What’s wrong with Dad?” Tasha asked sharply.

  “His blood pressure,” Nora answered. “He refuses to eat right, but at least he takes his medication now and again, and with the stress of Mom passing, his doctor wants to make sure he’s taking the right dosage.”

  Tasha nodded and tried to understand that circumstances had prevented her from knowing what happened with her family on a routine basis, but hated that she’d been kept out of the loop as far as their dad’s health concerns.

  “So, that leaves you to make the arrangements,” Nora finished.

  “Fine,” Tasha groused, giving each sister a dark look. “But I want to go on record as saying that I think you guys are doing this on purpose in some misguided attempt to put Josh and me together, and if that’s the case, it’s juvenile and not going to work. This is bound to just make things even more awkward between us.”

  “Are you finished?” Natalie asked, some of her old spirit returning. When Tasha gave a short nod, she continued with a touch of irritation. “Stop thinking everything is about you. Halvorsen Construction is run by good, honest people we’ve known our entire lives. I know they’ll do a good job of patching the wall and they won’t overcharge. You and Josh will just have to find a way to get past your…well…past.” She paused to grab her keys and met Tasha’s humbled gaze. “And, you seemed to get along just fine at the wake. In fact, you two headed off into the sitting room, away from everyone else.”

  Tasha sputtered and her cheeks pinked. “There was nowhere to sit and the sitting room was empty!”

  Natalie waved away Tasha’s heated excuse and grabbed her keys. “I have to get going. Evan’s at the store with Colton and they’ve probably destroyed everything at ground level. Can I trust you to call Josh as soon as possible?” she asked.

  Tasha pressed her lips together but nodded.

  “Good,” she said, then turned to Nora, who’d watched the scene with speculative interest. “Tonight, you’re on Dad detail.” When she tried to protest, Natalie held her hand up. “Nope. It’s you, sis. Tonight I’m going on a date with Evan and we’ve already arranged for a sitter. Nothing, and I mean nothing is getting in my way of spending some time with my husband. Got it?”

  “Things okay with you and Evan?” Nora asked, and Tasha held her breath, knowing their mom’s death had probably put a strain on everyone—a new marriage in particular.

  Natalie grabbed her purse and answered resolutely, “They will be,” before walking out the door, leaving Tasha and Nora to stare after her.

  As bitchy as Nora could be, she was perceptive.

  “Don’t worry about them,” she said. “I’ve never seen two people more in love with each other. It’s kinda gross and mushy if you ask me.” She slid a glance at Tasha. “Reminds me of you and Josh when I was a kid. You guys were pretty gross, too.”

  Tasha tried to brush off Nora’s observation, but the blush warming her cheeks was too telling. Nora chuckled. “Don’t forget to call lover-boy,” she said before sauntering from the room, leaving Tasha to wonder angrily why everyone thought just because she and Josh shared something special in the past that they had any hope—or desire—to see it happen again.

  She pressed the back of her hand to one cheek, felt the heat there and quickly dropped it to her side.

  They were wrong. All of them. No matter what they think they see, Tasha thought with a touch of sadness. As far as Tasha was concerned, the past was dead.

  JOSH WAS IN THE MIDDLE of refinishing his own kitchen cabinets when the cell phone hanging on his tool belt buzzed at his hip. The number didn’t register on caller ID but it seemed vaguely familiar.

  “Yeah, Josh here,” he answered, pausing to wipe the grime from his forehead. The cabinets were old but they were solid, and it gave him something to do on his downtime.

  “Josh, this is Tasha. Do you have a minute?”

  “Uh, sure,” he answered cautiously, surprised to hear her voice on the other end. “What do you need?”

  “It’s my dad. He…well, apparently forgot to mention to anyone that he had a huge, gaping hole in his hobby room from a tree crashing through the south wall during the last big storm, and, well, we need someone who can, um, fix it.”

  “Wow. A hole?”

  “Complete with duct tape and plastic sheeting.”

  He rubbed his chin, speculating on the damage. “How big?”

  She sighed. “Big enough to poke your head through and possibly step out to what used to be my mom’s garden.”

  He whistled. That was pretty big. “You want me to ask Dean if he can send someone out?”

  A sound of relief at his understanding followed. “Would you mind?”

  “No, it’s fine. Your dad can’t go the whole winter with a hole in his house.”

  “Yeah, tell that to my dad. He’s being his usual ornery self. He doesn’t want us to fix it.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. He probably didn’t want a bunch of people in the house with mom in her final stages, which I can understand to a point, but it’s really a hazard. Now he’s just being difficult. You know how he can be.”

  “He’s a tough old coot, that’s for sure,” he murmured in agreement, remembering the time Gerald Simmons had caught him and Tasha kissing behind the house. Tasha had been sixteen with a body full enough to make him forget his own name. Her cutoff jeans were faded and worn, but as his hand had inched south to caress a handful of that curvaceous flesh, who’d come around the corner but Gerald himself, flashing indignant fire from his eyes and swearing that he was going to plumb cut that hand off if Josh didn’t turn his daughter loose and get the hell off his property. A grin threatened at the corners of his mouth at the memory. He’d thought for sure the old man was going to take his head off. “All right, I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks, Josh.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he finished, squelching the tingles in his gut at the prospect of seeing her on a regular basis. He didn’t consider himself a glutton for punishment, so why couldn’t he just push Tasha out of his head like he should?

  Hefting his sander to return to his work, he heard the front door open, and expecting to see only his son, was surprised and dismayed to see that Carrie had followed Christopher into the house as if she had the right to do so. Gritting his teeth against the urge to remind her that she no longer had those kinds of privileges, he was derailed by the look on his son’s face.

  Chris stalked past him, heading straight for his bedroom, and he sighed heavily. “What happened?” he asked, directing his question at his ex-wife.

  “Why do you look at me like that? Like I’m this horrible person? I’m just trying to find some way to break him out of his shell.” She took a defensive posture, continuing, “You might think it’s okay for him to live in his room, playing on the computer, but I think it’s unhealthy. Life is about more than just games. He needs to socialize more.”

  “I don’t think you have any right to pass judgment when you’ve skipped out on your visitation for the past few weekends. And for your information, he doesn’t spend all day on the computer when he’s with me,” he answered, trying for patience, but he was fast losing his grip. “So, are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to play Twenty Questions?”

  Carrie’s expression reddened from Josh’s abrupt demeanor, but she answered in a clipped tone. “I enrolled him in the Junior Golf League at the country club. Robert has a membership and suggested this might be a good way to get him involved in something.” At his incredulous look, she slapped her thigh in frustration. “For crying out loud, Josh, it’s golf, how har
d can it be? You hit a ball and chase after it. I hardly even consider golf a sport.” She looked away with a disappointed sigh. “But, apparently, golf isn’t his thing, either. It was an abysmal day,” she admitted, turning back to him, the blue of her eyes hardening. “And I blame you.”

  “Excuse me? I’m not the one who keeps trying to make him into something he’s not,” he said, struggling to remember that he didn’t have to listen to this crap anymore. He drew a deep breath before continuing in the hopes that this conversation was reaching its end. “Instead of spending so much time and money on activities that Christopher is guaranteed to hate, why not try to get to know him? Here’s a clue. He’s not into sports, no matter how hard you push them.”

  She stiffened. “You think you know our son better than me? His own mother? I beg to differ.” When he said nothing in response, only shrugged, her lip trembled with the force of her anger. “Perhaps if you weren’t so busy trying to be his friend you’d see that you’re not doing him any good as a father! Moving him from one school to another just because of one incident—”

  “One incident?” he cut in, disbelief coloring his tone. “He could’ve been killed!”

  “See? This is the problem. You’ve exaggerated what happened until it’s so big the only thing Christopher could do was run away. Is that what you’re trying to teach him, Josh? When there’s a problem just run away? It’s what you did our entire marriage, but I’d hoped you wouldn’t want your son to follow in your footsteps.”

  “Carrie, you have ten seconds to get your ass out of my house,” he said from between clenched teeth. Never in his life had he ever raised a hand against a woman, but right now, his hands were shaking from his desire to slap her silly. “Get out before I throw you out.”