Lakeside Sweetheart. Lenora Worth

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      Vanessa hadn’t had many home-cooked meals growing up. “I can’t argue with that.” She hugged Aunt Hattie, the scent of sweet almond surrounding her. “I have to go, but I wanted to thank you again. Let me tell Marla I’m leaving.”

      “Oh, she wrapped you a plate,” Aunt Hattie said. “I’ll go fetch it.”

      Vanessa didn’t need a plate full of leftovers, but she wouldn’t be impolite by turning it down. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wished she’d had this kind of family growing up. But in that other place, the dark spot that colored her world in grays and browns, she figured she didn’t deserve this kind of family.

      She wished someone had trained her in proper manners or on how to actually conduct small talk. She wished she’d been happy in any of the many places her mother had dragged her. She wished she’d had nice clothes and pretty things.

      And she really wished she’d had someone to truly love her.

      But she couldn’t change any of that now. Vanessa had learned about all of these things mostly on her own by studying people and reading books and watching television and movies. She’d learned how to dress by working in retail and devouring fashion magazines and with the help of her mother’s last husband, Richard Tucker, who’d taken them on shopping trips. And she’d learned how to stay on her budget by shopping vintage and reworking second-hand clothes.

      She still had to learn the truly-loving-her part. She didn’t always love herself very much.

      She sent Rory a brief glance and then dropped her gaze to her sandals.

      “Hey, I’ll come by next week and help you out with getting ready for the estate sale,” Marla said as she hurried up to Vanessa. “I’ll even find some able-bodied helpers to do the heavy lifting.” She cast a glance toward Rory. “An estate sale is a big job.”

      A job Vanessa dreaded. “Yes. But...it has to be done.”

      “Are you gonna be okay, doing this?” Marla asked, her green eyes full of understanding and sympathy.

      “I’ll be fine.” Vanessa glanced over to where Alec sat at a round wrought iron table with Rory. Were they actually having more cupcakes? “I have to get the house ready to sell, and I can’t do that until I empty it out.”

      “Your mother was a pack rat from what I hear,” Marla said with a smile. “I know this has been hard, Vanessa.”

      Vanessa nodded. “Yep. Especially since she and I never got along.” She stared at the swing, where she could be sitting right now with Rory. “I guess I’ll get to know her a little more now that she’s dead, at least. I never could figure her out when she was alive.”

      “You did your best.”

      “I left.”

      It was that simple. She’d left after one divorce too many and after one particular stepfather’s bad behavior. It didn’t matter that her mother had tried to make amends to Vanessa after Cora had married Richard, her final husband. At least Richard had been kind to Vanessa during the short time she’d lived here with her mother and him. A good man, a very wealthy man, he’d paid off her mother’s house and shown both mother and daughter a world they’d only dreamed about. He’d died five years after marrying her mother.

      None of it mattered now. She couldn’t live in her mother’s house.

      She heard the preacher’s hearty laughter and stole another glance at him. “What’s with him, Marla? I asked you about his story, and I’d like to know more.”

      Marla followed her gaze. “What makes you think he has a story?”

      “We all do. You said he wasn’t always this happy.”

      Marla shrugged. “I don’t know much other than he joined the army after attending seminary, served as a chaplain and then came home to become a minister. And I don’t ask beyond that. I’m not even sure Alec knows, but they have this buddy system that holds them all together and they don’t press each other about what they went through while serving. I can allow that, given how I held everything inside when Alec and I started seeing each other.”

      “And now?”

      Marla’s smile was serene and sure. “And now I tell Alec everything and he shares a lot with me. We’re good.”

      “But he doesn’t talk about the preacher’s past?”

      “Nope. It’s not his to talk about. But then, they were all over there serving our country in one capacity or another. It’s a bond they share.”

      A bond that might not be broken, Vanessa decided. “I have to get going,” she said. “I had a great time.”

      “I’m glad you came,” Marla said. She hugged Vanessa close.

      “And if you ever need to talk—”

      “I’ll call you,” Vanessa replied. She didn’t want to get emotional in front of everyone.

      “Of course,” Marla said. Then she inclined her chin toward Rory. “But you should call him, too. No matter what you’ve been through, he’s the best person to listen and help you.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” Vanessa replied, remembering how he’d mentioned late-night calls from his congregation members. But she said it with a smile...and a shred of hope.

      * * *

      A few days later, Rory worked his way around the church yard, clearing away broken limbs and picking up palm fronds. A storm had moved over the area the night before, leaving debris in its wake. He didn’t mind the busywork, though. Not on a nice morning with a cool breeze pushing over the nearby waters of the lake. A few seagulls cawed at him as they came in for a low flight, probably hoping to find some morsels for breakfast.

      After dropping some twigs and leaves into a nearby trash can, he stopped to look over the grounds. The little clapboard chapel had survived worse storms than this one. It was over a century old and not much bigger than a shotgun house, but the people of Millbrook Lake loved their church.

      He loved it, too. Once he would have gone on by this place, but that Rory was long gone. This Rory loved this place. He stared out over the moss-draped live oaks that edged the old cemetery behind the church and prayed that he’d never have to be anywhere else.

      Purple wisteria blossoms rained down each time the wind blew through the trees, their old vines wrapped like necklaces around the billowing oaks. The sound of the palms swaying in the breeze sang a comforting, serene tune. Blue jays and cardinals fussed at each other near the bird feeders one of the church members had built and hung near the pergola where people liked to hold picnics. And the ever-present, pesky squirrels chased each other through the trees with all the precision of drag-racing champions.

      What a view.

      “You’re not working.”

      He whirled to find Mrs. Fitzgerald standing with her flower-encased walker near the sidewalk, her hat today black straw with red cherries around the rim.

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ