Outfoxing Fate (Virtue Shifters #11)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Lola Brown had left her home town over fifty years ago, and she had never once intended to come back. Now she stood at the corner of Virtue’s tremendous town square, wrapped in a green wool stole against the last bites of winter wind, and thought how incredibly true it was that you couldn’t go home again.

She knew every inch of this town by heart, and it hadn’t changed at all—except in all the ways it had changed entirely. The huge town square, partially buried in rotting snow, still held an enormous gazebo at its center, and at one end of the square, an old, familiar church still stood. At the other, the town hall and city offices, with the beautiful old clock tower, matched the church in reaching for the sky.

In between, almost everything was new. The Jones' still had the B&B on the opposite corner, but there was a massage therapy clinic and a bright welcoming cafe in the long row of buildings across from the B&B. To her utter surprise, the old toy shop was still there, but next to it was a doughnut shop, with a sign up that said they’d be closing for the season at the end of March. There were hairdressers and historical societies and a dozen other businesses in spaces that Lola remembered as empty, or as fading storefronts for shops whose names she could no longer remember.

She had thought Virtue was dying, when she left. But she’d come back to a town that someone had breathed new life into.

A little pang shivered through her. The town wasn’t the only thing that had had new life breathed into it.

Sam Todd was alive.

He had died—Lola had believed he had died—nearly fifty years ago, in a plane wreck that had taken the lives of a number of young military recruits. There had been a funeral, bleak and devastating, and Lola…

Lola couldn’t face Virtue without him. Not the small-minded town, not his petulant parents who had never cared for her, not the pitying, judging future that was the only thing she would find there.

So she had left. God, she’d been so young, just barely out of high school. And it had been so long ago that it had been easy to become someone else. Charlotte Nelson of Virtue, New York had taken the last train out one night, and Lola Johnson had gotten off that train in another town. No one had questioned it, or asked for proof, not back then. And after a while she’d married and become Lola Brown.

Until the day her granddaughter called to say Sam was alive, Lola had almost forgotten she’d ever been anyone else.

She whispered, “Almost,” into the cold March wind, and turned away from the town square to make her way down the street, to another old place that she knew intimately, and didn’t know at all.

The Hold My Bear bar made her laugh, even if it wasn’t at all the seedy joint she remembered. Someone had carved and painted a sign for the bar, a cheerful-looking thing with the bar’s name in curved letters and a big fluffy cartoonish grizzly bear lifting a beer in greeting. Even from outside it smelled fantastic, but of course it did: this was where her granddaughter Charlee worked, and Charlee had been a wonderful cook since childhood.

Lola slipped inside, accepted a seat for one near the front, and watched for a little while as she nibbled at a salad. The bar had a homey feeling, warm wood booths and visible rafters overhead—that, at least, hadn’t changed since she’d been a girl—and a bustling environment that said it was doing well. She’d seen the young man who owned the place on her granddaughter’s video phone app, but hadn’t understood how large Steve Torben was: well over six feet, with broad shoulders and an even broader smile. He had thick sandy blond hair and a barkeep’s apron over jeans and a t-shirt, and kept the place running with an enthusiastic efficiency. Lola liked to see that: he seemed like the kind of man who was good for Charlee, and she wanted them to be happy.

She had always wanted everyone to be happy. It was a simple wish, and yet maybe the most complicated one she could ever make. Her own happiest ending had disappeared with Sam, decades earlier, so all she could hope for was a different story for other people.

Her heart lurched again, fingers going cold as she let herself brush past the idea that maybe her story wasn’t over yet, either. It was too much to bear, really: too much hope. That was why Lola had essentially snuck back into Virtue without even telling Charlee she was there yet. She wanted to reacquaint herself with the place, at least a little, before plunging into…

…into whatever happened when a lost love was rediscovered decades later.

She could not let herself hope nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Obviously. And yet the part of her that was still eighteen years old hoped , and that was so very frightening.

“Nana!” The word was filled with delighted accusation as Charlee barged out of the kitchen, throwing her chef’s jacket straight at Steve. The big man caught it—with his face, admittedly—and laughed, pulling it down to see what his girlfriend, Lola’s granddaughter, was so excited about.

Charlee descended on Lola with a hug, tearfully happy. “Nana, you didn’t say you’d be here today! It’s so good to see you! Don’t you dare think you’re paying for that—salad?” The last word was disbelieving, and Lola laughed quietly as Charlee said, “ You’re eating salad ? Do you feel all right?”

“Nervous,” Lola said more honestly than she meant to, and her granddaughter’s face softened as she slid into the seat across from her.

“Yeah, that’s fair. I didn’t tell him, you know? I mean, I don’t know him at all to tell him, but some of my friends do, but?—”

“It’s better that you didn’t,” Lola said firmly. “Let’s think about Sam later, my darling. Look at you. You look so happy!”

It was true: Charlee looked happier than Lola could ever remember seeing her. She was a pretty young woman, with soft curling brown hair that she almost always wore tied up in a bun at the top of her head. She was round, both in face and body, though Lola knew for a fact those soft-looking arms had a lot of muscle in them: she’d watched Charlee effortlessly haul moving boxes that Lola wouldn’t have been able to lift in her prime, never mind these days. She was also sweaty, face pink from working in the kitchen, and the t-shirt she wore beneath the discarded chef’s jacket said ‘Never Trust A Skinny Chef’ above the bar’s beer-carrying-bear logo. “I am happy,” Charlee said with a contented sigh. “Steve’s great. Virtue’s a really nice town. I landed on my feet here. And I’m so glad to see you! You’re staying in the apartment upstairs, right?”

“There are at least two hotels and a bed and breakfast I can stay in,” Lola protested gently. “I don’t need to inconvenience you.”

“Don’t be silly. For one thing, I basically live with Steve these days. For another, even if I didn’t, you’re never an inconvenience.” Charlee’s green eyes shone. “You’re my nana, for heaven’s sake. And I?—”

She bit down on whatever she was about to say so hard Lola thought it could be called a chomp, but it didn’t take many decades of experience to figure out what she was trying to be discreet about. “You’re just dying to know the whole story between me and Sam?”

“Weeeellllllll…” Charlee scrunched up her face, then offered a wide, silly smile. “Now that you mention it…?”

“I’m afraid I don’t really know the whole story,” Lola admitted softly. “I know my side, Charlee. I can’t imagine…I can’t imagine what Sam’s must be. I thought I knew. All these years, I thought I knew…”

Charlee’s expression went soft again and she reached out to take Lola’s hand, her fingers feeling strong and warm and certain around Lola’s. She rarely thought of herself as old, but she could feel it in the difference in their hands: she was bonier, her hands cooler, more fragile-feeling. As if Charlee noticed it too, she squeezed, but only gently. “Of course, Nana. You’ve got a lot of figuring out to do. I can wait for all the details. I just want you to be happy, you know?”

“I’m not unhappy,” Lola promised. “My life hasn’t been what I imagined it would be when I was eighteen, but I’m not unhappy, darling. I’m just…curious, right now. And confused. But I’m sure all the answers will be clear soon. You said…” She hesitated. “When we spoke on the phone, you said he had a reputation as a recluse?”

At Charlee’s nod, Lola exhaled a relieved sigh. “That’s almost good. That means I can take my time and get my feet under myself before I meet him again. Just running into him on the street—” She broke off, then laughed quietly again. “Well, for one thing, we’re old. Assuming he would even recognize me, I wouldn’t want to give the poor man a heart attack!”

Charlee examined her with a thoughtful smile. “I think he would,” she said after a moment. “You look a lot like yourself, Nana. Like the picture you had on your bedside table.”

The picture of herself and Sam, from their prom, just a few months before he’d gone missing, presumed dead. Lola had kept that photograph tucked away until her husband died, and one day found it again. No one had questioned the old photo on her bedside table: if they’d even thought about it at all, they’d all assumed it was the man she’d married, until Charlee had seen the same picture in a Virtue yearbook from decades earlier. Lola couldn’t help a brief smile, remembering the night the photo had been taken, although she turned it to a more rueful smile at her granddaughter. “I’ve gotten old, Charlee.”

“Well, so has he. He can’t hold that against you. But you’ve still got amazing cheekbones and a great jaw. I think he’ll know who you are.”

“I suppose we'll find out eventually. Now, I'm keeping you from your work, aren't I? I don't want to be a bother."

Charlee cast an unconcerned glance toward the kitchen. "Everybody back there knows what they're doing. They can spare me for a little while. Let me at least take your suitcase up to the apartment." She eyed Lola. "You did bring luggage, didn't you?"

"Yes, dear," Lola said a little guiltily. "I also got a room at the Jones' B&B for the night, just in case you weren't sure about having me stay with you. So my suitcase is already there."

"Nana!" Charlee put her hands on her hips, trying her best to look scolding. "Okay, fine , but first thing tomorrow you're checking out of the B&B and into Chez Bear, okay?"

"If you insist, Charlee."

"I totally do. I insist on walking you back to your B&B when you're ready to go, too."

"It's up half a block and across the square," Lola said dryly. "I'm not going to get lost."

Charlee laughed. "No, I know that, but I haven't seen you in ages and I just want to spend some time with you. I'll try not to suffocate you."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line? Tell you what, I'm finished here anyway. If you can take a few minutes off work and show me what's new in Virtue, that would be wonderful. It's changed a lot since I was last…" Lola hesitated over the final word, and in the end, chose, "here," instead of home .

"I'd love to," Charlee said happily. "You can tell me how things used to be, too. There's a new library!"

"I saw the old one had closed." Lola smiled at her granddaughter, who hopped up with the ease of youth and went to talk to her boyfriend, then returned to the table and offered Lola her elbow.

"One tour of New Virtue, coming up. And I told you, your money's no good here," she added in a scolding tone as Lola reached for her purse.

"If you insist," Lola murmured again. They left arm in arm to breathe deeply of the crisp early evening air, and Lola admitted, "I might have had a little walk around the square already, to see what was different."

"Did you try Imelda's? The doughnut shop," Charlee clarified, and when Lola shook her head, tugged her that direction. "I know you said your stomach was nervous, but she makes the best coffee in town and one of her apple fritters will do your soul a world of good. She's about your age," she added. "Did you used to know her?"

"I don't think so. I'd remember an Imelda. No, sweetie, I'm sure most of my generation have long since moved away from Virtue. There wasn't much to keep us here, fifty years ago."

"The new library's that way." Charlee pointed off the square as they approached it, but shook her head. "I've found out there's more to Virtue than I imagined, so I wouldn't be surprised if there are still plenty of people who remember you."

"I'd rather they didn't," Lola said flatly enough to slow her granddaughter, whose searching glance made Lola feel guilty. She didn't elaborate, though, and after a moment Charlee nodded, just accepting that, before she continued on with her plan to bring them to the doughnut shop. It smelled every bit as heavenly as the pub had, in an entirely different way, although even the scent of cinnamon and sugar didn't do much to restore her appetite. "It's fine," she promised Charlee over what was admittedly an excellent cup of coffee. "I don't need to eat as much as I used to, and I'm sure I'll be hungry again once I'm over being nervous."

"You're really brave, you know," Charlee said. "I'm already in awe of you coming at all."

"Hah! We'll see if I'm brave enough to stay," Lola said wryly. "I might just duck out the back and never return."

"No, you won't. You wouldn't have come at all if you were going to do that."

Charlee sounded absolutely confident, and Lola had to admit her granddaughter was probably right. Still, she had run away from this town once before, and she could by gum do it again.

But not until she'd at least seen Sam again. From a distance, maybe. Just to make sure he was…to make sure he was okay. To see that with her own eyes. Then, maybe, she could let the past go.