The Promise of Home

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“I’m right here.” Abby O’Halloran breezed into the cabin, dropped a box into the lap of the lumpy tweed recliner and reeled Jenna in for a hug.

A hug. As if they’d known each other forever rather than just a few days. Then she stepped back and looked Jenna straight in the eye.

“How are you?”

Jenna opened her mouth, ready to give her standard response, but something in Abby’s compassionate gaze seemed to require an honest response.

“I’m…not sure.”

Abby nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “That’s why we’re here.”

Zoey parked her hands on her hips. “Where should we start?”

Jenna felt her control slipping. “Really…you don’t have to—”

“Of course we don’t.” Kate cut off her protest, her brisk tone matching her movements as she began to unpack an arsenal of cleaning supplies. “We want to. You move to a small town, you get the small town treatment.”

Jenna had already experienced that, and the memories weren’t pleasant ones. People had either ignored her family or gossiped about them, but no one had ever offered to help.

“Jake mentioned the fire didn’t do much damage, but we figured a few little touches might make you feel more at…” Emma’s voice trailed off.

For the first time, the visitors seemed to become aware of their surroundings. The dark paneling that shadowed the walls. The shabby furnishings. The scorch mark on the scuffed hardwood floor, evidence of what could have been a fatal mistake.

Forget the fact that she lived in a gated community with a waiting list that stretched into the next decade. Jenna was suddenly eight years old again, facing the girls that had drifted over to meet her the day she’d moved into the neighborhood.

She had invited them in to play, but the pigtail posse created their own game. They’d spent the morning poking fun at the tiny garage apartment. And at her.

The scenario continued through high school. Different towns, the same response. Being measured by her peers and found wanting. Old insecurities, the ones Jenna thought she had put behind her, began to creep in as Kate and her friends surveyed the cabin.

“It’s got a lot of potential,” Abby declared.

Emma saw Jenna’s expression and laughed. “Abby’s bed-and-breakfast needed three times this much work when she bought it. She welcomes a challenge.”

“Which explains Quinn,” Kate whispered.

Abby gave her friend a playful swat on the arm. “This from the woman who fell in love with my bossy big brother. Most people run in the opposite direction when they see Alex coming.”

Zoey must have noticed Jenna’s bemusement.

“They can be a little overwhelming, can’t they?” she said in a low voice. “The first time I met them, they bullied me into joining their knitting group.”

Abby heard her. “Bullied isn’t quite the word…oh, maybe it is. But you’ll get used to us,” she added with a bright smile at Jenna.

Jenna didn’t contradict her, even though she knew she wouldn’t be in Mirror Lake long enough to join a knitting group. Or any other kind of group, for that matter.

Watching the way the four friends interacted, with genuine affection and acceptance, Jenna wondered what it would be like to be included in their close-knit circle.

Other than a weekly cappuccino date with Caitlin Walsh, the image consultant Jenna had met while working on a special makeover issue for the magazine, the majority of Jenna’s time and energy were devoted to her readers.

The door opened and an adolescent boy walked in, balancing a bulky object on his shoulder. Judging from the smoke blue eyes and sandy brown hair, this was Emma’s son, Jeremy. He flashed a shy smile at Jenna before turning to Abby. “Where did you want this, Mrs. O’Halloran?”

Abby pointed to the floor. “Right over there.”

Jenna watched Zoey and Kate kneel down and unroll the hand-hooked wool rug. A butter-yellow border outlined a stunning bouquet of wildflowers in the pattern. The colors brightened the room—and completely covered the blackened area on the hardwood floor.

“This was delivered to the inn yesterday, but the order was wrong,” Abby explained. “It was too small for the library…but I think it might be just right for you.”

Tears stung the back of Jenna’s eyes and she blinked them away before anyone noticed.

“It’s perfect, Abby,” Emma said. “And the colors just happen to coordinate with the curtains I brought over.”

For some reason, the rest of the women smiled when she emphasized the word.

“How much do I owe you?” Jenna had read the home style section of Twin City Trends often enough to know that a custom designed rug this size would have cost a small fortune.

“It’s a gift.” Abby linked her arm through Jenna’s. “A reminder that God provides exactly what we need when we need it.”

Jenna didn’t know how to respond to that. It was something she’d often heard Caitlin Walsh say, but she’d never experienced it before. It was risky to wait. To hope that someone would notice her. That someone would…care.

“He does,” Abby murmured.

Jenna stared at her, afraid she’d voiced the thought out loud, but the other woman was already gliding away.

“We’ll have this place looking like home in no time,” Zoey said, a determined gleam in her eyes as she advanced on the dusty bearskin rug tacked to the wall.

“Okay, sisters.” Kate tightened the knot on the bandana covering her copper curls as if she were preparing for battle. “Divide and conquer.”

* * *

Dev tossed a piece of birch bark into the campfire and sat back to enjoy the shower of sparks as the flames consumed it. There had been a time when he would have scoffed at such simple entertainment. When he’d believed that a man who had time to sit by a campfire had too much time.

He took out his pocketknife and began to sharpen the end of a stick.

Violet, stretched out on a old trapper’s blanket beside him, lifted her head and stared into the deepening shadows at the edge of the woods.

Dev had a hunch he knew what—or who—had caught the dog’s attention.

For the past few days, Logan Gardner had been sneaking across the property line to play with Violet. And when he didn’t show up, Violet had been sneaking across the property line to play with him.

Dev figured it was only a matter of time until Jenna marched over to register a formal complaint.

“Violet.” He crooked a finger at the blanket, earning a reproachful look. The same one he’d seen the last time he’d given her a bath. “Stay.”

She flopped back down, her heavy sigh questioning the fairness of the command.

“Trust me—it’s for your own good,” Dev told the dog.

His, too. The less contact he had with Jenna the better. Dev had spent the last five years trying to simplify his life, and everything about the woman shouted complicated.

The fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her proved it.

“Hi, Mr. McGuire.” Logan slunk out of the woods a few seconds later, shoulders hunched as if he were unsure of his welcome. A coonskin cap, the kind sold at every souvenir store in the county, drooped over one bright blue eye.

“It’s Dev, remember?”

Logan shuffled closer, the faux raccoon tail swinging over one shoulder like a furry pendulum. “I smelled smoke, and I wanted to make sure you and Violet were okay.”

The anxious look in the boy’s eyes reminded Dev that he’d recently witnessed a fire, one that hadn’t been contained in a circle of stones. Jenna had claimed that no one had been hurt, but Dev knew from experience that not all injuries were visible on the outside.

Guilt tweaked his conscience. He’d been traveling a lot since the beginning of summer, but how could he have been ignorant of the fact there were two children living next door?

Other than the day he’d met Jenna, he hadn’t heard a peep out of them. Not even Violet had alerted Dev to their presence.

“I appreciate your concern,” he told Logan gently. “But it’s just a campfire. I usually cook my dinner out here in the evenings.”

Violet lifted her nose to sniff the raccoon tail and Logan giggled. “She thinks it’s real.”