Coming Home for Fall (Ferndale Secrets #1)

Prologue

It wasn’t the cab driver’s fault that Mallory hated him.

On that rainy Saturday morning in November, Mallory would have hated just about anyone.

She’d just finished one of the worst airborne journeys of her entire life.

Having purchased a red-eye with almost all the money in her bank account, she’d been forced to endure hours of loud chatter and crying babies.

The woman who’d sat behind her held a toddler on her lap for most of the trip as it kicked the back of her chair like a drum.

It took all of her patience not to turn around and yell at them both.By the time she’d landed at the California Redwood Coast Airport, Mallory was just about ready to open the emergency door and toss the kid out of the plane.

Now, thirty minutes later, she was stuck in the back of a taxi on the way to her hometown: Ferndale. Every mile closer to her parents’ house made Mallory’s mood sour a little more.

“It’s beautiful this time of year, isn’t it?” the driver remarked. They were only five minutes or so from the house now, and Mallory silently prayed that he’d give up on his attempt at small talk. Unfortunately, no one was listening to her prayers.

“Yeah... it is,” she replied, straining enthusiasm.

“Did you come out this way to see the fall colors? Usually, they’re past their peak at this point, but with the climate being so finicky these days, you’ve come at the best time!”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, forcing a smile. “But that’s nice to know.”

“Are you staying somewhere in town? A buddy of mine rents his basement apartment out on one of those websites. He makes a killing, even though the place isn’t fancy. Guess that’s the benefit of living in a touristy town.”

“Yeah… I guess. I’m not staying in a rental. I’m here visiting my parents.”

“That’s nice. You staying all the way through Thanksgiving?”

Staring at him in the rearview mirror, her smile faded. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “You just had a lot of luggage with you, that’s all. The holiday is in about two weeks, right?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I sort of forgot it was even November.

” She sighed and glared at the pile of luggage taking up the rest of the seat next to her.

“I guess I might be here for Thanksgiving... I’m sure my mom would like to have all her kids home for the holidays…

But I don’t know. I haven’t really figured out my plans yet. ”

“That’s the nice thing about family, eh? You can always come home without warning and stay for as long as you’d like.”

Mallory nodded and then glanced out the window, hoping the driver would finally take a hint—this was the last thing she wanted to talk about.

Why did he care how long she was going to stay?

Was he secretly judging her for coming home for the foreseeable future?

Ugh. Don’t go down that rabbit hole.

Mallory didn’t want to think about the series of events that had led a woman her age to come crawling back to her childhood home with a nearly empty bank account and no job.

Thankfully, the cabbie didn’t try to talk to her again and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

When they pulled into the driveway of the two-story Victorian style house, he helped her with her bags.

The home was a cheery yellow color and trimmed with a burnt orange.

Her parents had purchased it forty years ago and it was quite the steal.

Walking up to the front door, the cab driver whistled as he set the bags near Mallory’s feet.

“This place is stunning.”

“I know.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“Yeah.”

“Lucky,” he said, glancing about at the lush forest landscape. “It’s not just the house either. There are so many trees! It looks like the house is right up against the preserve.”

“It is,” Mallory confirmed, her tone dry.

It was a little after 7 a.m. and the neighborhood was slowly starting to wake up.

She heard the birds chirping in the forest behind the property and the sound of soft music coming through the open window of the house next door.

It was chilly, but not too cold. Releasing a heavy exhale, Mallory saw a faint puff of breath linger in the air as she handed over her debit card to the driver.

“They have us using these now,” he said, pointing to the little white square sticking out of the bottom of his phone.

“I guess the old card readers were always screwing things up, and it was hard for people to tip with those. I think this new thing is more confusing, but they don’t consult me when they make changes like this. ”

Her eyes flickered with anxiety. Mallory had neglected to account for the tip when she’d decided to take a cab home from the airport instead of calling her mom for a ride.

Her parents had no idea she was coming, and she’d wanted to stave off that conversation for as long as possible.

Now—she was paying the price for her childish avoidance tactics.

“Um, okay.” She took her wallet out and grabbed her credit card, holding it alongside her debit card. “Is it possible for me to pay the ride fee with one of these and the tip on another?”

The man raised a brow. “I’m sure there is, but I’m not confident I’ll be able to figure out how to make two different transactions happen.

Let me see.” He frowned down at the screen and fiddled around a bit.

Mallory stood awkwardly between him and the front door, biting her nails as she considered running away.

There was still time for her to forget this entire plan.

She could beg the cab driver to take her back to the airport for free or offer him some of her nicer jewelry to hock—her parents would never have to know that she’d shown up in the first place.

Then, she’d see them at Thanksgiving and act like everything was fine.

“Oh, here we go.” He smiled and handed the phone to her. “I got it. The first charge is for the ride.”

Mallory sighed with relief when she saw that the charge was a little less than what she’d anticipated.

She put this on her debit card, knowing it was going to take her balance down to single digits.

Then she used her credit card to give the man a generous tip.

She kept her credit card for “emergencies only,” but lately her life had been one emergency after the next.

Mallory was terrified to check her bank account balance and wanted to remain ignorant so she could pretend it wasn’t that bad.

Plus, she was partially making it up to the driver for being such a grumpy passenger.

“Thanks,” he said, grinning as he took the phone back. “I hope you have a nice visit with your family.”

“Yeah, uh… Me too.” She strained a warm smile, struggling to hide the heaviness in her heart and watched him drive off, disappearing from view.

Letting out an unsteady sigh, Mallory faced the door and stepped onto the welcome mat, trying the handle with a soft touch—in case her parents were still asleep. It was locked.

Since when do they lock the door?

Both of her parents’ cars were in the driveway and since they lived in such a small, cozy town they never locked it unless they were both going to be out for a while.

However, apparently, they had started locking the door at night too.

A part of Mallory was happy about this, since she’d always felt her parents were too trusting.

But that morning, she couldn’t have been more frustrated.

She had a key to her parents’ house, but she had no idea which bag it was in, and it would take her forever to find it.

So much for a subtle entry.

She squared her shoulders and huffed before refilling her lungs with a gulp of crisp, Northern California air.

Then she gripped the brass knocker and rattled it three times against the base.

A few seconds passed before she heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door.

Mallory plastered on a fake smile, preparing herself for her parents’ stunned expressions when they saw her on their stoop.

The door opened.

“Uh—”

Standing on the other side was a woman, or perhaps a girl, who looked like she wasn’t even old enough to drink yet.

She had long, dirty blond hair and a baby was resting on her hip.

She smiled, but with a creased brow, and cocked her head to the side.

“Hi there,” she said in a soft voice, like she was trying not to wake the rest of the house. “Can I help you?”

Mallory took a step back and folded her arms. “Um, yeah, actually. You can help me. You can tell me who you are and why you’re answering my parents’ front door.”