Waiting Out the Storm. Ruth Herne Logan

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      Now his wish became reality, day by day, emergent from the adjacent hillside splendor.

      And directly across from Sarah’s sheep farm. How in the world had that happened when he’d been so careful? Thinking back, he remembered querying Steve Laraby about ownership of the land to either side of him. East. West.

      Not across the street. He swallowed a groan with the realization.

      As he swung Maggie’s door wide, he mulled the situation. What were the odds that of all the acreage in the largest geographic county in New York State, Craig Macklin would end up building across from Sarah Slocum’s farm?

      What had his mother prayed for? Hills, trees, land, good neighbors and room for dogs.

      The whole “good neighbor” thing presented a notable challenge. Craig’s collar itched as he considered the situation. Every time he pulled out of his new driveway, Sarah’s presence would remind him of things he’d like to forget.

      Gramps’ angst and dismay upon discovering their money gone, rifled by a scheming, two-faced investor. Grams’ sadness. Their constant worry and guilt over being a burden, an elderly couple who had never burdened anyone all their lives.

      That worry hadn’t helped Gramps’ struggle with heart disease. No sir. He’d died crushed and broken under the burden of decisions he thought fiscally sound.

      Craig didn’t need reminders, but here he was, building his dream home directly across from a Slocum. A band of them, if appearances could be trusted.

      Craig massaged the bridge of his nose. If God had a hand in this, then he obviously had a sense of humor like Craig’s father’s. Dry. Subtle.

      And not nearly as funny as he thought it to be.

      “She’s your neighbor?” Deb Macklin slid a wide tray of peanut butter cookies out of her convection oven, followed by another. Replacing them with two more, she raised a brow. “A sheep farm, right?”

      “I guess.”

      “How big?”

      Craig shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t see the animals. Well…” He hesitated, reaching for a hot cookie. “I did meet the niece and the nephew trying to kill each other. I don’t suppose that counts.”

      “Craig.” His mother’s tone scolded. “She took in all three kids because Rita’s not doing well. I guess the money problems put her over the edge.”

      Her phrasing caught Craig’s attention. “What money problems? The papers were full of Tom’s private insurance and made multiple mentions of his other portfolios.” He made no attempt to hide the scorn in his voice.

      Deb shook her head as she set the oven timer. “They were wrong.” She straightened and met Craig’s gaze. “His major insurance policy refused the claim because of a suicide clause. His minor insurance paid, but that was a pittance compared to the cost of raising three kids. Keeping a home.” She turned back to the counter and scooped rounded spoonfuls of cookie dough onto fresh baking sheets. “Tom’s stock portfolio is tied in with his brother. Ed refuses to give Rita access to it. Rita sued for dispersal, but you know the courts. It’ll be a long, drawn-out process. Ed’s afraid his part will suffer if Rita withdraws Tom’s share, and she’s got no money to speak of without it. At least they’ve got medical insurance still. And Social Security survivor benefits.”

      “That’s it? After all the papers said, I assumed Rita was swimming in cash. Free and easy, while other folks suffered.”

      Deb gave him a quiet look, not unlike the gaze Sarah Slocum leveled her errant nephew the day before. “You know what they say about assumptions, Craig.”

      He set his cookie down. “So the kids are living on the farm?”

      “Yes. It was either that or foster care. Cade said Sarah wouldn’t hear of it, though I can’t imagine how she handles running the farm, her nighttime accounting business, and three kids. God love her, she’s an ambitious little thing. When we needed sheep for the living Nativity scene last year, Sarah was the first one there and stayed the whole while, making sure everything went smoothly.”

      Craig hadn’t made it to services that December weekend. A firm thwack of guilt smacked him upside the head. Was he really all that busy? Even on call, couldn’t he set his phone to vibrate for the hour-long service and show up more regularly than he’d been lately?

      Thinking back, Craig mentally scrutinized Sarah’s face. Yeah, she looked tired. More, she looked determined. Stubborn. Intent on forging ahead. His mother’s voice interrupted his reflection.

      “You’re not eating your cookie.”

      The oversized cookie sat on the counter, cool. Untouched. He shook his head, considering. “Not really hungry. I’ll grab some for lunch tomorrow.”

      Deb nodded once more, intent on her task. “Whatever you say.”

      A slight sound stopped him as he moved to the door. He turned and frowned. His mother presented a calm, serene profile, not a smile in sight. But Craig had been her son a long time. He knew what he’d heard, her distinct low chuckle that said she found the whole thing humorous.

      Huh. That made one of them.

      Chapter Seven

      Sarah considered the previous day’s run-in with Craig Macklin as she aligned a fencing unit along the back hill.

      Bad enough that Liv and Brett showed their worst sides, reinforcing current opinion of Slocums in general. But it had to be in front of Craig Macklin. Sheep-hating, sanctimonious…

      Who was about to become her new neighbor.

      Wonderful. No doubt he’d complain of the dogs’ barking at night, the smells of a working farm by day. Sure, he was a vet, but he kept his visits to sheep country few and far between by design.

      Recalling her appearance the day past, she couldn’t blame him. Craig didn’t come off as a guy who got his hands real dirty, regardless of profession. And his current girlfriend fit the profile to the max. Leggy, lithe and lovely.

      Sarah tried to thwart a rise of insecurity, but it was no use. Feelings rose within her, how she prayed as a young girl to be normal, look normal, to fit in.

      With Tom and Ed ragging on her constantly, she’d longed to be pretty. Attractive, like other girls.

      Try as she might, though, nothing paled her deep-toned skin, softened the dense mass of hair or lightened her big, dark eyes. Owl eyes, Tom used to call them, then he’d make bug-eyed faces at Ed until they’d collapse in laughter at her expense.

      Sarah scowled at the memory, kicked a raised piece of sod, and shoved the last fencing pole into place with more force than needed.

      Standing next to Craig’s latest squeeze, she had realized she had nowhere to go but up in the looks department, at least as far as Craig Macklin was concerned. And contemplating her planned showdown with her half brother and father, she didn’t have the strength to care. Picking her battles had become a strategic necessity.

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