Bed of Roses

CHAPTER THREE HOW LONG

CHAPTER THREE

HOW LONG

T he Rose Garden had a very different vibe the week after Valentine’s Day. It’d been quiet as a graveyard the night Sam got there, but by Sunday night, all nine of the extra bedrooms were filled. The ancient house came alive again with the sound of jovial arguing and laughter coming from the library on the first floor and the smell of coffee in the kitchen rising to meet the conversation chatter, beckoning sleepy travelers to come down for breakfast. Sam was told to remind the guests that tea, coffee, snacks, and waters were available all day and evening on the buffet in the dining room.

Several of the customers that she helped at breakfast also sought out the same electric tea kettle that she set out in the evening, and they chatted as the kettle warmed. The guests were normally very kind and predictably a tad charmed by the house, as Sam still was. Like clockwork, every guest’s first words were always something about the gardens. There was something almost militant in the caliber Kathleen kept the gardens to, and the hours she kept tending the garden. And it showed.

The house was a tiny, ever-changing city within itself. It seemed to pull in all kinds as far as clientele, from green thumbs to an occasional bird watcher or oil riggers with the weekend off, stopping over on their way to the next site. No matter who was staying, the chamomile seemed to be the slot in the wooden tea box on the buffet that Sam noticed would routinely be empty by eight p.m. Sam was constantly going to the kitchen to fetch some bags for the other tea-seeking night owls.

For the most part, Kathleen would help Sam whip up breakfast, and after it was served, leave the visitors to entertain themselves if the weather permitted. She’d soon retreat into her jungle of roses to prune and tend once again. Sam found the routine easy to fall into and caught on quickly. Her favorite part of the day was getting to visit with the guests over breakfast. She’d soak up as many stories as she could in the mornings before heading across the massive yard to the old carriage house with Nibbler in tow to help Loretta at the flower shop.

Loretta loved old country music—Waylon, Willie, Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, and all those folks—and kept it going in the shop from opening to closing. That era was what Sam had cut her teeth on, and she never got tired of listening to it. Her mornings started with coffee, bacon, and people happy to chat, and her afternoons were a swirl of Hank, Haggard, and the smell of flowers. By the time half of the week had passed by, she had an odd sense of settled.

That morning, Loretta had gone to deliver a couple of arrangements, and Sam was alone in the shop when the store’s landline rang. She grabbed the receiver from the wall and said, “Rose Petal Flower Shop. This is Samantha.”

“I’m glad you answered,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “This is Buster from down at Jack’s Auto, and I’ve got some bad news. The deeper I get into your car’s problems, the more I’m finding. It looks like it’s gonna cost a pretty penny to set Patsy right. It also may take me a good bit of time to locate the parts, then line up the labor to get y’all back on the road safely.”

“How long and how much you thinking?” Sam crossed her fingers on her other hand.

“A real rough estimate is seven thousand dollars, and that’s hoping that I can find what I need and the shipping’s cheap. Since Mr. Miller retired last summer and closed his shop, I’m the only mechanic in this area, so it’d have to be a side project here in the shop. It will take at least a month or longer for me to even start on it. And like I said, that’s if I can locate parts. I can get some of them new, but they’ll be pricier.” He sighed. “My advice is to sell it for the body and let someone else take care of the restoration.”

Sam was glad the phone had a long cord attached to it because she slid down to the floor and propped her back against the wall. She didn’t even have half that in her savings account, and it would take months and months to earn the rest with her job at the B&B and flower shop.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” she finally asked.

“Sure, take all the time you need. I’ll make a list of all the parts and then wait for you to let me know what you want done. I can park it around back in our junk lot until you decide,” Buster said. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news. I’d buy the body myself and fix it up, but my wife would kill me. I have connections with some guys with lots of money who love old models and would jump at a chance to get their hands on a body in this good of shape.” Buster had a hopeful note in his voice for a second but when she didn’t answer, he asked, “I noticed your vanity plate says Patsy. Is she named for Patsy Cline?”

“Yes, she is.” Sam could barely answer around the lump in her throat.

“My wife and I two-stepped together to ‘Crazy’ on our first date down at Scottie’s,” Buster said. “That was ten years ago now. Time flies, I swear. I’ll wait for your call on Patsy, alright?”

“Yes, and thank you.” Sam reached up, put the receiver back on the base and buried her head in her hands. As if on cue, “Crazy” was the next song on Loretta’s playlist, and “I Fall to Pieces” followed right behind it.

Loretta came in through the back door and tossed her purse on the worktable before she eased down on the floor beside Sam. “Good Lord, girl, what has happened? Did someone die?”

“Patsy is on her deathbed,” Sam sobbed. “It’s terminal, and I can’t save her.”

Loretta sucked in a little breath and leaned closer to wrap her arms around Sam’s shoulders. “Who is Patsy, and is it cancer?”

“She’s not a person. She’s my 1965 Mustang, and according to Buster, she has complete organ failure.” Sam wept even harder.

“I have trusted Buster with my vehicles for years. If he says she’s on life support, then you should pull the plug and let her go. Why did you name her Patsy?” Loretta asked.

“My sorry-ass boyfriend cheated on me, and Patsy’s songs helped me get through. Before that, she didn’t have a name,” Sam explained between hiccups.

“Well, darlin’, when you get ready to say goodbye to her, Kathleen and I will go with you,” Loretta said.

The bell above the front door rang.

“I’ll get it this time. You go wash your face and put on a smile. You ain’t alone in this. It’ll be okay,” Loretta promised and popped up on her feet like a teenager.

* * *

A week passed before Samantha was ready to “pull the plug” as Loretta had called it. On Friday night, Sam called her mother and asked her not to put it on speaker.

“Your father is at the church for a men’s supper,” she said. “What’s going on?”

Sam broke down and sobbed out the story of the car, ending with, “I’m going to sell her tomorrow to a guy who restores and keeps vintage cars in a museum somewhere in New Mexico. I don’t wanna tell Daddy yet. Not today. The guy is coming to get her tomorrow, so this evening Kathleen, Loretta, and I are going by the shop to tell her goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Wanette said. “I know how much that car meant to you, but honey, all things die eventually, past loves fade away, good cars stop cranking. You are doing the right thing. Patsy will be taken good care of. It’s like she’ll be going to car heaven and reincarnated in a new life.”

For her Southern Baptist mother to bring up reincarnation, Sam knew she was trying her best to soothe her daughter from hundreds of miles away. “Thank you for listening, Mama,” Sam said and pulled a few more squares off the roll of Angel Soft that she had squirreled to her room from the bathroom. She had folded and refolded one soggy square so much it had ripped as her mother kept talking.

“Can we drive up there now and bring you home?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay for a while longer, Mama. I’m sad about Patsy. I’m wrecked, really. But I like it here. I’m kinda shocked how easily I have meshed into a good routine. It can be pretty busy sometimes, but I’ve enjoyed it. The irony of escaping Rosepine to a place called Rose Garden doesn’t escape me, but Greta said that Mrs. Myra was willing to tend to everything ’til she gets back. I checked with her the other day, and I kinda love the two jobs I have, and Nibbler likes it here too.” Sam was rambling and stopped herself.

“Well, when you get ready to come home, just give us a call, and Sam …” Wanette paused. “I think you may be transferring all the grief you have about Chase and Liza Beth to your car. Liza Beth was your best friend for twenty-five years, honey. Losing someone in this way will wreck you as badly as if they had truly died. You are experiencing all the stages of grief. I just hope you find some peace up there in that little town.”

“Me too, Mama.” Sam sighed. “I’ll call again soon unless a cricket farts. We never know when we’ll lose reception up here on the hill. Between the landline at the bookshop and the B&B though, you can reach me if there’s an emergency. I’ll let you know how the funeral goes.”

Loretta rapped on the doorframe and poked her head inside Sam’s room. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone. Kathleen and I are ready when you are. No rush.”

“Bye, Mama. I love you.” Sam ended the call and nodded toward Loretta. “I’m ready.”

Kathleen drove her Cadillac to the auto shop so slowly that Sam felt like they were really in a funeral procession. Loretta sat in the front seat in a flowing black skirt topped off with a black-and-white-striped sweater. Kathleen’s customary overalls had been replaced with a black pantsuit, marking what a special occasion it was.

Sam hadn’t realized till then, but she had never seen Kathleen in anything but her overalls since landing in Homestead. Sam had chosen her nicest pair of wide-leg jeans and pulled on a Patsy Cline T-shirt she had bought on a girl’s trip to Nashville that she and Liza Beth took shortly after buying her car. She hated the memories that bombarded her when she had pulled it from her suitcase, but it seemed like the right shirt to wear to say goodbye.

When they arrived, Buster escorted them through the auto shop and into the junkyard out back. Patsy looked like she would run just fine if Sam got into the front seat and started the engine, but that was not going to happen. The car had been with her through thick and thin, from apartment to apartment in college, from dive bars to road trips, and now it lay dead in a car cemetery in the little town it led her to. Her last job seemed to be the mission of bringing Sam to Homestead to heal her broken heart.

Sam opened the passenger door and removed all the personal items from the glove compartment, then closed it again. She braced herself against the idea of walking away from her beloved car, but she couldn’t control the tears flooding her cheeks.

“You know all my secrets and listened to me cry too many times to count,” she said as she laid her hand on the hood. “I will miss you so much, but you’re going to a better place.”

She felt Noah’s presence long before turning to find him standing a few feet behind her. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said as he handed her one of the four red roses he had brought.

“Thank you. What are you doing here?” Sam said as she laid the rose on the hood of the car.

Kathleen and Loretta followed suit with Noah placing the last rose on Patsy’s hood beside the others before stepping closer to Samantha. “Kathleen told me you were having a funeral today. Giving up anything that you love is like going through a death. If you need a quiet place to grieve or distract yourself from this, there’s a nook in the back corner of the bookshop with a couple of comfy chairs. Reading is a good escape from the harsh realities of the world.”

“I appreciate that, and I might take you up on the offer,” she said.

“It’s the least a friend can do,” he replied with a soft smile.

Kathleen draped an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Maybe you can swing by the bookstore tomorrow evening after the flower shop closes. I need to return a couple books and get some more for next week, so I’d appreciate it if you would run that errand for me.”

“I can do that.” Sam sniffled.

Noah pulled a stark white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Sam. “I gotta head back to the store. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Who carries around an actual handkerchief these days? Sam wondered as she took the folded napkin from Noah. One day, she vowed, she’d ask him about his childhood.

“Thank you,” she said and dabbed at her wet cheeks with the soft hanky. She took one last look at Patsy and finally walked back into the shop.

Jack came out of the office as they entered and flashed a brilliant smile Sam’s way—one that still reminded Sam of a wolf—yes, sir, wolfish was the perfect description for Jack.

“Samantha, it’s good to see you again. Buster tells me that you are selling that Mustang. If you need a ride anywhere or just get lonely and want some company, I’m your guy, darlin’. I’ll be glad to take you wherever you want to go,” he said in a low, seductive voice.

Kathleen seemed to bristle at that, suddenly looped her arm into Sam’s, and turned their backs to Jack to walk to the exit. Her voice was two notches above a cat’s hiss as she said, “If she needs anything or anyone, Loretta and I will take care of her.”

Sam looked back to holler goodbye to Buster, and then the gaggle of women walked out of the open garage door, making their way to Kathleen’s Cadillac in silence.

“You be careful of Jack. He’s broken a lot of hearts here in Homestead, and I don’t reckon he’s finished with the job yet. If there’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing in this town’s flock, it’s him,” Loretta whispered when they were back in Kathleen’s car.

“I’m thinking the same thing,” Sam told her.

On Saturday evening, Kathleen ushered Sam and Nibbler out the door with a tote bag full of books. “Poor little critter loves the big backyard, but a break from his patrol duties would do him good. It’s hard work putting the fear of God into every critter in Homestead. Now, Nibbler”—Kathleen bent down and cupped his face in her hands—“if a bear comes out of the woods, you drag Sam back here as fast as you can. Do you understand me?”

He yipped as if he actually understood and licked her hand.

“Good boy, now get along and don’t stay out too late,” Kathleen said, waving them off from the front porch before going back inside.

Going down the hill in the daylight was a lot different from climbing it in the dark. Nibbler pranced down the lane, testing the length of the leash, pulling Sam along. “Hold on, boy. I’m sure there’s not enough dogs in this place to have wiped out all the treats at the bookstore. You don’t have to hurry. Stop and smell the roses.”

The smell of pine sap and fresh rosebuds swirled around Sam as they walked down the drive. She sniffed the air just as Nibbler did. “I bet everyone knows when the roses start blooming. The scent probably stretches out from here to Jefferson when the garden’s in full bloom.”

Maybe God brought her here on purpose. The longer she was in this little town, the more firmly she just knew there was a reason fate had brought her there. Something in her gut told her so, though she couldn’t identify what it was quite yet. Being as hardheaded as her mama, sometimes it took God slapping her upside the head to steer Sam into the right direction.

The biggest plot twist Sam had experienced since the nauseating scandal of finding Chase and Liza Beth sleeping together was Patsy breaking down and leaving her in Homestead to nurse her heart back to health. She now had two new wise sages, a term she used dotingly for Inez and now Loretta and Kathleen had earned as well. She had a friend in town her age too—the local bookworm Noah. Buster had helped sell Patsy for a decent price, and with the money now in her savings, he was helping her look for a newer model of the old Mustang of days past. Two jobs and an airy room with three giant windows were ready for Sam to just step into and start over. Inez had been right when she told her that there was joy on the other side of pain.

She found herself humming the melody of “Believe” by Cher all the way down the hill. She was only a few yards from the sidewalk when Jack stopped his pickup right beside her and stuck his head out the window. “Hello, gorgeous, do you need a ride?”

“No, thank you,” she said, forcing herself to not roll her eyes as she kept walking.

“We could have some good times if you’d loosen up a little,” he said sourly.

She stopped and glared at him. “I’m sure there are plenty of women who are loose enough for you in this town already.”

“Jealous, are we?” He drove along beside her at a creeping pace, and she didn’t answer. “You can’t take that dog into any of the stores or leave him tied outside either. Someone will call animal control, and they’ll take him to the pound.”

She stopped in front of the bookstore and smiled sweetly at Jack with her best “eat shit” grin. “Not this one. Goodbye, Jack.”

“Hit the Road Jack” came to her mind and made her grin as she opened the door.

“You’ll change your mind about me eventually,” he called out.

“When pigs fly and hell freezes over,” she shot back at him and closed the door in his face.

Noah poked his head up over a pile of books on a nearby table, his eyes warming with a welcoming smile. “Well, hello, Samantha. I thought I might see you today.”

“Hello to you too. I’m returning some books. I’m not sure how you and Kathleen do this, but here’s what I’m supposed to give to you,” Sam said.

Noah got to his feet, went to the desk, and took two treats from the drawer. “Hello to you too, Nibbler. Did that walk down here wear you out?”

The dog flopped down onto the floor and let out a haggard harrumph.

“If you hadn’t realized yet, he’s the king of drama,” Sam said with a giggle.

Noah slid a wink toward her. “Not Nibbler! He’s a perfect boy. He just needs something to sustain him so he can make the trip back up to the B&B.” He tossed the two treats up in the air, and the dog caught both in his mouth.

“Now that the important business is over, let’s talk books. What is Kathleen interested in this week?”

“She said for me to pick something out, but I could use some help,” Sam answered. “Does she run a tab or …”

“She and Loretta have a special deal here. Kathleen and I did our best to get a library started here in Homestead, but it didn’t happen. We’ll keep trying until we succeed, but until then, I let her and Loretta use the store as a library. They read the books, return them, and I put them back on the shelves. Everything in here is used anyway, so it doesn’t hurt them to get read one more time.”

“How do you ever make a living that way?” Sam asked.

“I do most of my business online and by mailing the orders out,” Noah answered. “So, what do my two best readers want this week?”

She scanned the store and saw piles of books on the tables, a long stretch behind the counter with cubbyholes stuffed full of rolled up maps and documents, and walls covered with marked shelves: mystery, romance, sci-fi, historical, paranormal and nonfiction. “I’m not sure. I’m returning two cowboy romances from Loretta and a couple of historical romances and autobiographies that Kathleen just finished. Can I just prowl around for a while?”

“As much as you want, and like I told you yesterday, there’s a nice little reading cove behind the beaded curtain, and there’s coffee and snacks,” he answered. “I’m gonna get to work cataloging that bunch over on the table that came in this week. I’ve got some readers who are interested in the older Mary Stewart novels, especially first editions of The Moon-Spinners .”

“Didn’t she pass away recently?” Sam asked as she chose a historical romance book from the shelf and headed toward the back room.

“No, but her backstock will be harder to find as time goes by,” Noah replied.

It smelled like a new pot of coffee had been brewed recently, so Sam pulled a beige mug from the sideboard and filled her cup before pouring herself into one of the overstuffed leather chairs in the back nook. Nibbler jumped up on the sister chair beside her and turned around a couple of times before collapsing on the cushion and promptly falling asleep.

“That little jaunt down the hill really did wear you out, didn’t it?” Sam whispered to the normally energetic dog, and she opened her book. She read five pages before she realized that she couldn’t even remember the hero’s name. She saw the words, but they weren’t registering.

Her thoughts were on a fast-moving merry-go-round with the gear shift stuck in reverse—her first date with Chase rising up in her mind. They had gone to a nice Italian restaurant, he had pulled her chair out, bought her dinner, and walked her to her door later that night. All the makings of a true gentleman.

Her first call once his taillights faded from her driveway was to Liza Beth. She went on and on about him to Liza, as a girl does with her best friend after a hopeful first date.

Her mind skipped over the past like a stone on smooth water to another memory. She and Liza Beth peering over smudgy glass cases, oohing and aahing, arguing over the cut of diamonds, and pointing at the rings they wanted one day.

“Go uptown and figure out what you like, Sam, I wanna get you a ring you like,” Chase had said one night while they lay in bed, watching the ceiling fan circle, as their breath slowed after a bout of lovemaking. They talked about children and houses and ring sizes. And somewhere in between all their newfound plans and the fodder surrounding them, the little voice in Sam’s gut that screamed that Chase was running around on her was successfully stamped out by all the hope Chase poured into her heart.

She was raised on happily ever afters. From Disney movies to Harlequin romances, she didn’t watch or read anything unless it had a nice ending. And maybe, just maybe, she would have one too if she played her cards right. He wasn’t perfect, but Liza reminded her often that no man was. She picked out a ring she liked at the jewelry shop, just as Liza did—for shits and giggles even though Liza was single at the time—and went back with Chase later to show him the one she liked. She guessed he would plan to propose closer to Christmas because it was her favorite holiday, or maybe her birthday that summer.

But it didn’t happen that year or the next—or for her birthday, or Valentine’s Day, or any other time.

Chase said that he loved her. Liza had repeatedly reminded her that she was crazy to doubt him, but the little inner voice got louder and louder the longer that he spoke of marriage but didn’t propose. That itching suspicion that something had changed in the last few months had followed her like a shadow into every conversation they had. He was still attentive for the most part but distracted in a new way. He wasn’t the knight in shining armor anymore. Just a man who always had to work late. Who kept his phone face down and on silent at all times. Sam had painted him to be like the hero and love interest in one of her books. But he wasn’t. He never was. He was just a man.

Sam opened the book to the first page to start all over again. Chase had ruined a lot of things in her life, but she refused to let his memory step foot into Homestead. She took a breath and started back at chapter one .

She didn’t hear the door chime, but Nibbler must have. He woke up and growled down deep in his throat, then jumped down off the chair and became a furry blur as he ran past her. He was on his way out the open door with Sam following after him when Noah caught him by the collar and picked him up. Still growling, he tried to wiggle free of his arms.

“I’m so sorry if he ran off a customer. He doesn’t normally act like that with people, only squirrels and cats,” she apologized a little breathlessly.

“Well, evidently, he doesn’t like Jack Reynolds,” Noah chuckled, “but there’s no love lost between me and Jack either. I’m jealous of Nibbler. He can growl and bite people he doesn’t like on the ankles. I’d get locked up if I did the same thing.”

“Was Jack in here?”

“No, he just walked past with a brunette, headed for Scottie’s, I reckon.” Noah shrugged as he moved Nibbler to one of his arms.

“A brunette?” Sam turned her head to glance back at the front of the store as if they’d still be visible.

“Yep.” Noah sighed, picking up a few books with his left hand and walking them back to his main work desk in the center of the room as he continued, “One day, Kara’s gonna see Jack for who he is. It ain’t like he hides his running around. Everybody in Homestead knows about it, but no one can seem to talk a lick of sense into Kara when it comes to Jack. She’s head over heels ’til he just up and vanishes for a weekend, then she goes off the deep end at Scottie’s or at her mama’s ’til he comes back. By Monday, he is slinking back in and buying her flowers. And just like clockwork, she takes him back every time. Kathleen calls those two the official H.S.O.”

“What’s that stand for?” Sam moved closer to the desk he stood at and leaned her hip against the corner of it as she listened.

“Homestead Soap Opera.” He smirked, but the smile quickly fell from his face. “I feel for Kara. It’s a messed-up cycle she’s caught in. It’s been said that you don’t love what’s good for you, you love what you know. Her daddy wasn’t good to her mama when he was alive, according to the town chatter. And her mama’s sick now, up in the oncology ward in Linden. When she is there visiting her, Jack brings girls down to that hunting cabin on the back end of Kathleen’s property. The examples of love we experience as children influence us more than I think most of us realize.”

Sam thought of her parents, their marriage of nearly fifty years, and the watertight bond they had. If that saying was true, how and why the hell did she ever fall for Chase?

Nibbler started to growl and wiggle in Noah’s arms for the second time that evening when a tall, slender blond-haired woman came through the front door. Sam thought instantly of the movie The Stepford Wives , then The Devil Wears Prada . This sleek woman was the spitting image of the perfect trophy wife in her camel-colored, pin-tailored slacks, thin beige sweater, and high heels with the signature red soles all the sassy female lawyers in TV shows wore. Not a single blond hair was out of place, and her striking blue eyes narrowed in on Sam’s dirty Adidas sneakers before looking her up and down in a measured way, ending on Sam’s messy bun piled on top of her head. The Stepford wife look-alike pulled her mouth into a tight-lipped smile.

“Hello. You must be the redhead I have heard so much about.” Laura’s niceties tasted like fake sugar, leaving an odd taste in Sam’s mouth.

“I guess I am. My name is Samantha,” she said, straightening from the desk she had been leaning on.

“Laura.” She pushed out her hand to take Sam’s in a firm but perfunctory handshake before letting go like Sam’s hand was a hot plate.

“If you’re smart, you won’t stay in this hellhole long,” she said matter-of-factly and focused her attention back on Noah. “I’m cooking tonight. Don’t lose track of time and be late. And since when did you start letting dogs in the shop? You know I’m allergic.”

Sam’s gut screamed at her that now was a pretty optimal time to excuse herself and leave, but her feet seemed to be soldered to the wooden floor where she stood. Nibbler was still growling down deep in his throat while Noah held him in his arms—and her book was in the back room. So was the tote bag she was supposed to fill before heading home. Being stuck somewhere between a rock and a hard place seemed pretty cozy to Sam right then.

Noah shrugged almost sheepishly. “There’s exceptions to every rule. How about I grab a bottle of wine for dinner this evening?” he asked, changing the subject from Nibbler. “Red or white?”

“Both,” Laura answered flatly.

“So, do you live here in Homestead?” Sam asked Laura, determined to act normal, though she could feel the distaste oozing out of Laura’s every pore.

Laura scoffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder, and her eyes flicked back to Sam. “Not just no, but hell no. I live in Jefferson. I’m the judge’s assistant at the courthouse there. What did you do before you came here?”

Sam was tempted to tell her some fantastic tale, just to see how high Laura’s thin blond eyebrows could rise before disappearing into her perfectly styled hair. The thought of telling her the truth crossed her mind for a second, but she refrained. “A little of this and a little of that.”

Laura gave a bored, “Hmm …” with a nod and looked back at Noah.

She figured that Miss Prissy Britches wasn’t really interested in her past, and even if she was, Sam didn’t give out personal information to people Nibbler hated.

“Like I said, don’t be late,” Laura said, her eyes darting back to Sam for just a moment before lasering in on Noah again.

“I won’t be,” Noah confirmed.

“I’m headed to my place, then. I can feel my allergies acting up already, I’m not giving you a kiss when you’re holding a dog,” Laura said with a look on her face like she stepped in something and was scraping it off her shoe. “Take a shower before you come over. And use a lint roller on your shirt and pants. I can’t stand dog hair in the house.” She dragged out the words dog hair like it was a dirty pairing of words.

“I’ll do my best to get all the dog off me,” Noah said without even looking at her.

Laura flipped one side of her hair over her shoulder and walked back to the door without a second look at Sam or another word to Noah. The thrumming click-clack of her heels on the worn wooden floor echoed after her and pounded in Sam’s ears like the staccato rhythm of her heartbeat. When the door chime finally rang as she walked out, Sam could’ve sworn Noah let out a sigh, his shoulders lowering a few inches.

Why did he let her treat him like he was a doormat? Who could be with a man like this and talk to him like that in front of a customer in his place of work? Sam didn’t know Noah that well, but she could tell he deserved better than that.

He is a stand-up guy, a catch really , she fussed.

And you know all this from only being around him a few times, huh? Inez was back.

Shut it! I ain’t asking for a wise sage’s advice right now , Sam mentally fired back.

The reason finally dawned on Sam why Laura had ruffled her feathers so much. It wasn’t her clipped tone or her nonchalant snobbery. Laura reminded Sam of Chase. He had called the shots, and Sam had been convinced she was lucky to just be included. She went along with it for years, all the time knowing in her heart that something was amiss. Yet she stayed through all the drunken fights and demeaning arguments until the proof was finally in flesh in front of her, in the form of her best friend naked on Sam’s side of the bed, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She had no right to throw stones—at Kara’s situation or at Noah’s.

Noah closed the door and locked it, then set Nibbler down on the floor. He silently stood at the door for a moment before turning back to Sam and searching her face. “You look like you are fighting some kind of inner battle.”

“I am,” she admitted. “Laura is beautiful.” She blurted it out like a child confessing a crime.

“She is,” Noah agreed as he went around the front desk again to cash out the register for the day.

“I guess I’ll get out of your hair now. I’ll just grab the tote bag and come back another day for their books.” Her voice wandered off as she pulled on her light denim jacket.

“No, I got the time to help you fill the tote up real quick. We can tag team and do it in no time. I’ll empty the tote now and you go look. Kathleen normally gravitates to the back three shelves, and Loretta only looks at those two shelves there for her fix.” He pointed out where Sam should look and got to emptying the bag. “Aim for two or three books for each of them. That’ll keep them busy for a week or so. How many do you wanna take home?”

“Me?” she asked.

“Sure,” Noah answered. “Since you live at Rose Garden, you can have the same borrow-and-bring-back deal that the others up there get.”

“Well, thank you so much.” She stopped scanning shelves for a moment, looked at him, and a genuine smile crawled across her face. “I think I’d like to branch out to some women’s fiction with a hint of romance. What do you suggest?”

Noah pointed at the shelf toward the front of the store. “You should find a small but solid selection right there.”

Sam was halfway across the room when she stopped and slapped the side of her leg. “Crap, Noah. I meant to bring your tie and flashlight to you, and I forgot.”

“No problem at all,” Noah said. “You can keep them or return them another time. This isn’t the last time you’ll be in the store, is it?”

“Nope, you now have three bookworms at Rose Garden in your lender program. I’m honored to join the ranks.” Sam picked out three books for herself and added one each of that genre for Kathleen and Loretta. She worked her way down the shelves and soon had nine books stacked up in her arms. “Thank you, Noah. This is generous of you to let us read and return. I solemnly swear to not dog ear a single page.”

“Shh …” His golden-brown eyes sparkled. “The town has ears, and if it gets out that I’m running a library, everyone will want the same deal. I only do this for a select few friends. As in the three who live at the Rose Garden. Oh, and Ruth Jones down on Shiloh Road. She has become a voracious reader since her husband passed. I don’t know if you’ve met her just yet. She’s a lot like Kathleen and Loretta. You’d like her.”

“Well, then, I hope I meet her one day.” Sam set the books on the desk and made a motion to zip her lips and toss the imaginary key over her shoulder. “As far as your secret lending program, the vault is sealed, and your secret is safe with me. Do I need to list the books?”

“I’ll do it.” Noah picked up a pen and notebook. “I have to keep a record in case those books are listed online for sale. I’ll be here for another thirty to forty minutes probably. If you want to stay and keep reading in the back room till I go to close, you’re welcome to.”

“That sounds so tempting, but I’d better get on back to the B&B. The ladies are probably waiting on me for supper,” Sam answered.

“Next time, then,” Noah said as he put all the books into the bag. “It’s getting dark. Do you need another flashlight?”

“Thanks again, but Nibbler and I can make it before it gets fully dark. Poor little guy has gone back to his chair and curled up for another nap. I almost hate to wake him.” She went to the back room and hooked the leash on the dog’s collar. “Okay, lil fella. It’s time to go home. You’ve napped long enough.”

Nibbler hopped down, all full of life and vigor again, and he rose up on his hind feet to do his cute little dance. That’s when Sam realized that Noah was standing in the archway with a couple of treats in his hand.

“You and Kathleen are spoiling him.”

“And having fun doing it.” Noah gave the dog the treats. “I’ll be interested to know if the ladies like the women’s fiction books.”

Sam picked up the tote bag and slung the wide strap over her shoulder and saluted Noah with a grin in mock ceremony. “I’ll report back with my findings.”

Sam was lost in her thoughts—Laura walking in and out of her mind—as Nibbler led the way up the hill, stopping several times to mark his territory. “If you ever want to do me a solid and pee on a mean woman’s shoe, I promise to not yell at ya. Just aim for the red-bottomed ones,” she muttered to Nibbler when he lifted his leg on the fence post as she opened the gate.

“Were you talking to me?” Kathleen popped up from behind a rose bush, and Sam let out a surprised squeak.

Kathleen placed a hand on her lower back and groaned as she stood and stretched. “I love this work, but it don’t love me.” Her face lit up when she noticed the tote bag, drooping heavily on Sam’s left shoulder. “Let’s go inside and see what you brought for us to read this week. The weatherman says we have a storm coming, and there’s no reservations for next week. Do you know what that means?”

Sam shook her head.

“It means that Loretta and I need something to read in the evenings, or we’ll bicker like old wet hens.” Kathleen chuckled. “We won’t have cable for days if the wind’s bad, and there won’t be any cell service either. So, no Green Acres reruns for Loretta, and no going outside for me. That equals no peace for either of us. But I didn’t say any of this to you.” Kathleen turned to Sam as they neared the front porch. “Now, who were you talking to out there?”

“Nobody,” Sam answered, her voice a little higher than normal—defensive even.

“Okay, then.” Kathleen took her arm. “We’ll have some hot tea and pound cake, and you can tell me what’s got you all in a tizzy.”

“I ain’t in a tizzy!”

“And the sky ain’t blue. Honey, I can read people as well as I can a book. What did Noah do?”

“Nothing, he didn’t do anything,” Sam finally admitted. “I just had the lovely experience of meeting his girlfriend, Laura.”

“Oh, you’ve met the high-and-mighty Laura Henton.” Kathleen snorted. “That girl’s got a chip on her shoulder so big that I’m surprised she don’t walk with a limp from the weight of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Laura came from humble beginnings. She was raised over in Pinecrest Properties, a trailer park just up a ways on the same road that the Rose Garden’s on. Her mama has worked two jobs since Laura’s daddy, J. W., just walked out one day and left them high and dry. Justine raised Laura on her own since she was real little. Her mama and them are good folks, but I think Laura was just so hell-bent on getting out of that trailer park and proving she was better than her upbringing, she forgot her manners somewhere along the way. When Noah’s granddaddy passed, she locked in on Noah and figured that if she could become a Carter, then she could right her wrongs of being raised dirt-poor. She wants that name as much or more than his money. She can be as ruthless as Jack if she doesn’t get her way.”

Kathleen headed for the kitchen with her arm still locked in Sam’s. “I hate to say that about Thurman’s cousin’s kid, but as Loretta says, ‘he don’t cull nothing.’ Jack is always looking for his next conquest. And Laura’s looking for her next victory to brag about. You can bet your last penny, she would leave Noah in a hummingbird’s heartbeat if another man came along and could give her more, but she’s got her eye on the prize and her claws in Noah so deep now, she probably ain’t never letting him go.” She let go of Sam’s arm as they entered the room and put on the kettle without missing a beat. “She didn’t have the easiest upbringing, but she was raised by a good Christian woman. Justine can’t help it if life dealt her a hard hand.”

“Why doesn’t she like her family name?”

Kathleen shrugged as she pulled mugs from the upper cabinet and placed them to the left of the kitchen sink. “There’s a few drunks in her family, and her dad was one of ’em. She cut contact with him when he moved farther west with a woman he met while still married to her mama. Justine still lives in the same single-wide that Laura was raised in, and I think it bothers her that she can’t outrun or rewrite her childhood here in Homestead. Justine did her best with Laura, just as I did with my boys.”

With mugs lined up beside the stove and the kettle going, Kathleen turned and stared at Sam with hawk-eyed scrutiny. “Now, let’s talk about why she upset you today. We can’t give all the credit to uppity Laura Henton, can we?” She refilled Nibbler’s water bowl and dumped more food in his dish. “Poor little darlin’ is probably wasting away after that long journey on such little legs. Ain’t that right, lil bit?”

The way that Nibbler chomped away at the food bowl near Kathleen’s feet, Sam guessed she was right. Sam’s stomach growled when Kathleen pulled a lemon-glazed pound cake from the other side of the butcher block, took a long cake knife out of the drawer near her hip, and cut a slice for Sam.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin, Ms. Kathleen,” Sam said.

“I’m just Kathleen to you by now, honey. How about we start here?” Kathleen put a slice of cake on a paper plate and slid it in front of her with a fork. “Once upon a time, Samantha met a man …” Kathleen told her.

Sam barked out a pained laugh and almost choked on her first bite of pound cake. It was moist and buttery, but her mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert. She recognized the taste of lime instead of lemon in the sugary glaze.

The kettle sent forth a shrill whistle that sounded similar to the alarm bells ringing in her ears, and Kathleen pulled it off the lit burner. “There’s a certain type of sadness only a man can put on a woman’s face, and as someone who has seen that same expression in the bathroom mirror many a time, I know what I’m talking about. Rest assured, honey, I’m speaking from experience, so spit it out.”

Kathleen put a chamomile tea bag in each of their mugs, leaving a third mug out presumably for Loretta, and poured the piping hot water into both before sliding one in front of Sam’s plate.

“I haven’t told you what brought me here, or what I was running from back home.” Sam felt sick.

Kathleen poured a dollop of whole milk in her mug and left the red-topped gallon jug she had taken from the fridge on the butcher block table between them. “Some stories need to wait till the right time to tell.” She picked up her fork and went on, “Loretta and I have some stories to tell you one day too. All strong women have backstories.”

Sam let the floodgates open, and through tears and sobs, she told Kathleen everything about Chase and Liza Beth, from the beginning of their relationship to the ugly ending. “When I found them naked in our bed, I could’ve killed him. I really think I could’ve shot him dead if I’d had a gun.” Her throat closed off, and she couldn’t utter another word.

Kathleen sucked in a lungful of air and let it out in a whoosh. “I understand that feeling and the emotions around that kind of betrayal. And with your best friend?”

Sam nodded. Her eyes burned as she tried to stare a hole through the steaming cup of tea in front of her. She focused at the small chip on the side of the coffee mug, a splintered half of a painted rose that had flecked off from past use. She blinked away the tears collecting on her lower lashes. She couldn’t seem to find her voice.

“Well, Sam, that’s enough to make any woman see red,” Kathleen continued. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him and drove here instead, even if Patsy gave her life for the journey.” She spun a spoon around in her mug, making circles in the milky liquid. “The past only has the power to define you if you let it, Sam. Sometimes, hard heartbreaks must happen to move us where God’s wanting us to be. Every day that you let yourself think back on that betrayal and you let it eat at you is another twenty-four hours that those two no-goods have power over you. You can’t move on and heal if you’re hanging on to the past with a choke hold.”

“But how do I move on? How the hell do you let go?” Sam hated the desperate note in her voice.

“It’s not easy, but you pray for them.”

“Pray for those two!” Sam gasped. “I think God would frown upon me asking Him for forgiveness for somebody that I still can’t forgive.”

“Well, I can’t say I know exactly how God works. But there’s a Mother Teresa quote I remember reading a while back. Someone asked her how she can see so many sick people day in and day out and not feel the weight of the world and all the suffering souls in it. Her response was beautiful. She said, ‘I love them, I bless them, I pray for them, and I let them go.’ I may be paraphrasing, but I say it all to make my point, and that is you can’t hold on to heartbreak and heal from it.” Kathleen craned her face to the kitchen ceiling and hollered, “Hey, Loretta! Come on down here. Sam’s brought our books back and you need to hear this.”

The lift squeaked like a mouse the size of King Kong as it lowered from the second floor to the first.

Loretta pushed back the black wrought iron gate and headed over to make herself a cup of tea, grabbing the extra mug from the counter and turning the kettle back on. “I’m all ears. What’s going on?”

“Tell her,” Kathleen said with a nod.

Sam repeated what she had told Kathleen. “And now Kathleen says I should pray for them, but I think I may get hives if I do so.”

Kathleen focused on Loretta with an impish smile on her face. “Oh, I have faith you’ll survive. The best of cures taste the worst going down. Retta, I think we need to hold hands and for you to lead us in one of your prayers.”

“Give me a minute to get my tea made and sit down. My prayers don’t go past the ceiling when I’m praying on aching feet.” She finished what she was doing and then eased down in a chair across from Sam. “Alright, I can speak to God while my tea steeps.” She held out her hands.

“We have to make a circle,” Kathleen explained, “and you have to really want to get over the past for it to work, Sam.”

Sam swallowed hard and nodded as she took Loretta’s hand in her left one and Kathleen’s in her right.

Loretta bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Lord, we are here today to ask that you help our sweet little friend move on from her ugly past. Help her to realize she is better off without a cheating bastard of a boyfriend or a bitch of a best friend. Keep her here in Homestead with me and Kathleen until she finds peace. I know that you are very busy, but if you could make Liza Beth get fat and ugly, and Chase go bald and broke, we would be very happy and very grateful. Amen.”

Sam started to giggle and then threw her head back and laughed so loud that Nibbler thought she was crying and came over to whine at her feet. She picked him up but couldn’t stop laughing as the dog licked at her face. “Well, I gotta say, I have never prayed quite like that, Loretta. I like your prayers,” she said between the laughter induced hiccups.

“I told you if you prayed for those sorry bastards that it would make you feel better,” Kathleen declared.

“My prayers have helped Kathleen a lot of times,” Loretta said with a grin. “Someday we’ll tell you all about Thurman, her dearly departed husband. There’s a juicy story of redemption right there. Kathleen, hand me that fork.”