A Forever Family

Raising twins on her own hasn’t been easy for widowed mom Hannah Douglas. But she’s determined to see her family—and the picnic basket auction she’s organizing for the town’s centennial celebration—succeed. Still, there are times she wishes for someone to lean on. To her surprise, Brody Harcourt’s strong shoulders are at the ready. Seems like Jasper Gulch’s favorite firefighter and rancher is always there when she needs him. But Hannah’s not sure she’s willing to take another chance on love, especially with someone whose job puts him in harm’s way. Is the risk of loving Brody worth the reward to make her family complete?

Big Sky Centennial: A small town rich in history…and love.

Ladies and Gentlemen, start your bidding!

The Jasper Gulch Centennial Committee

Proudly Presents

The Jasper Gulch Fall Fair

and Picnic Basket Auction

Who needs speed dating and online matchmaking? Jasper Gulch believes in doing things the old-fashioned way. And what could be sweeter than an old-time picnic basket auction? As the town’s potential suitors line up to place their bids, no one is more excited than auction coordinator Hannah Douglas. Of course, the young widow has no interest in finding a date—or so she says.

But this centennial celebrating is having a strange effect on everyone, and nothing is as it seems. The time capsule is still missing, there have been unexplained events and someone has even convinced the town pastor to make a basket! With all the unusual goings-on in town, anything is possible. Even a sweet single mom finding love

a second time around.…

* * *

Big Sky Centennial:

A small town rich in history…and love.

Her Montana Cowboy by Valerie Hansen—July 2014

His Montana Sweetheart by Ruth Logan Herne—August 2014

Her Montana Twins by Carolyne Aarsen—September 2014

His Montana Bride by Brenda Minton—October 2014

His Montana Homecoming by Jenna Mindel—November 2014

Her Montana Christmas by Arlene James—December 2014

CAROLYNE AARSEN

and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children, and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window, through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey.

Her Montana Twins

Carolyne Aarsen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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God is our refuge and strength. An ever present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.

—Psalms 46:1–2

To my agent, Karen Solem—thanks for your work, for your support and encouragement through

all the ups and downs of this crazy writing life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“I tell you it was rigged.” Lilibeth Shoemaker tucked her cell phone in the back pocket of her snug blue jeans and rested her elbows on the waist-high wooden counter separating Hannah’s desk from the large open waiting area of the town hall. Light from the mullioned window above the large double doors created a halo out of Lilibeth’s blond hair. However, the effect was negated by narrowed blue eyes enhanced by dark eyeliner and pouting red lips. “There is no way Alanna Freeson should have won that and not me.” This last word was emphasized with a slap of the hand on the divider.

Hannah Douglas gave Lilibeth what she called her Customer Care smile while she typed a quick note on the application for a booth for the county fair Hannah was helping to organize. This year the fair was to be the biggest ever in honor of Jasper Gulch’s hundredth anniversary and Hannah was already behind. All morning she’d been fighting a headache, juggling her attention between her increasing workload and her concerns over her mother, who was babysitting Hannah’s twins. This morning her mother had shown up looking drawn and pale but, as usual, insisting everything was fine.

Lilibeth tapped a long zebra-striped fingernail on the counter as if to get Hannah’s attention. “I was told I had to talk to you about it.”

Hannah hit Enter, then turned her chair to devote her entire attention to Lilibeth. The young girl had flounced into the town hall a few minutes ago exuding an air of long suffering that Hannah knew masked a simmering frustration with losing the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. Though the winner had been crowned at the Fourth of July picnic, launching the town’s centennial festivities two months ago now, Lilibeth had complained loudly since then to anyone who would listen that she had been robbed. She was determined to get to the bottom of whatever conspiracy she seemed to think had been hatched.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Hannah said. “The contest is over and the winner has been determined.”

As she reasoned with Lilibeth, the heavy doors of the town hall office opened and a tall figure stepped inside the foyer. Though the entrance of the converted bank building boasted ten-foot-high ceilings, Brody Harcourt easily dominated the space and Hannah’s attention.

He stood in the doorway now, his eyes skimming the interior as he swept his cowboy hat off his dark hair. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up over muscular forearms and his ramrod-straight stance bespoke his firefighter training, but the sprinkle of straw on his brown cowboy hat probably came from working on the ranch he and his father owned. He glanced at the empty chairs lining one wall, interspersed with potted plants, but stayed standing.

“But you take minutes at the town council meetings, dontcha? Couldn’t you find out stuff for me?” Lilibeth’s question was underlined with a nervous tap, tap of her fingernail. As Hannah’s attention was drawn back to the young girl, she fought a yawn.

Chrissy, her thirteen-month-old daughter, was cutting teeth and she’d been up most of the night crying and feverish. Thankfully, her twin brother, Corey, had slept through all of the fussing. Unfortunately, Hannah had not. She’d spent most of the evening rocking Chrissy and walking the floor with her hoping her cries wouldn’t wake Miss Abigail Rose, who lived in the apartment beside Hannah’s above the hardware store. Miss Rose had been reluctant to continue subletting the adjoining apartment to Hannah precisely because of the twins. She had given in when Hannah’s mother had shamed Miss Rose by saying this was no way to treat the widow of a soldier who’d died for his country. Hannah knew she was only staying at the apartment on sufferance, widow or not, and as a result was hyperconscious of any noise the babies made.

“I’m taking care of organizing the fair this year and the picnic basket auction,” Hannah said. “I can help you if you want to donate a basket or if you want a booth at the fair. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest and neither can Mayor Shaw.”

Lilibeth pursed her lips, winding a strand of hair around her finger as she contemplated this information. “So you can’t get hold of the minutes of the meetings or stuff and let me see them? I need to find out if this was a setup or not.”

Why was she so intent on digging so deeply into this?

A movement from Brody distracted Hannah from Lilibeth’s questions. He was glancing at his watch, as if checking the time. Then he looked over at her, angled her a quick smile and raised his eyebrows toward Lilibeth, as if he was sympathizing with Hannah having to deal with the young lady’s self-indulgent antics.

“The contest was run separately from town business.” Hannah kept her smile intact as she turned her attention back to Lilibeth. “And even if the council was involved, I wouldn’t be at liberty to give you the minutes of the meetings.”

As Hannah spoke, Robin Frazier entered the foyer from the office she and Olivia Franklin worked in. She clutched a sheaf of papers and had a pencil behind one ear holding her blond hair back from her face. Probably seeking more information for the genealogy study she had come to Jasper Gulch for. She and Olivia had been working together on the history of the town as part of her studies.

“Are you going to donate a basket for the auction?” Hannah asked Lilibeth, trying to distract the girl and hurry her on.

Lilibeth gave Hannah a confused look as if not certain of this sudden switch in the conversation. “I’m not sure I could organize a basket. What would I put in it?”

“Food. Snacks. Treats. Sandwiches. Be creative,” Hannah said, handing her a paper. “Here’s a submission form to fill out. We’re doing something different this year. Instead of just food baskets, we are asking for some people to consider making a themed basket instead.”

“Themed basket?”

“Yes. You could make a basket of books. A basket of bath products. Snack foods. Baby stuff. The form will give you some ideas. You can choose which one you prefer.” While the young woman puzzled over the paper, Hannah turned her attention to Brody.

“Can I help you, Mr. Harcourt?”

Brody Harcourt gave her an affronted look as he came to the counter. “Whoa, what’s with the mister? I’m twenty-nine. That’s only four years older than you.”

In a town the size of Jasper Gulch, anyone who was four years older than you in high school seemed to stay in that exalted position until you got to know them. And Brody moved in different circles than she did, so she never got to know him well.

“Sorry. Just trying to be respectful of the age difference.” Hannah didn’t know where that little quip came from, but the twinkle in Brody’s eye and the way his mouth curved upward in a half smile created a curious uptick in her heartbeat. He really was quite attractive.

And still single, which surprised her. She thought someone like Brody would have been snatched up years ago.

“Glad to know I get some respect around here,” he said, setting his hat on the wide counter between them.

Lilibeth looked up from the form she still held. The frown puckering her forehead shifted in an instant, and her smile made a blazing reappearance.

“Hey, there, Brody,” she almost purred. “How are things at the Harcourt ranch?”

“Fall’s coming, so it’s busy,” Brody said, giving the young girl a grin.

“You going to enter in the demolition derby going on in Bozeman this year?”

“Don’t have a vehicle to enter and I don’t have time.”

“You did real well the last time you entered,” Lilibeth continued, laying her hand lightly on his arm in a distinctly flirtatious gesture. “Couldn’t believe how you smashed up the competition. Fearless. Living up to your nickname, Book-it Brody.”

Hannah knew Brody’s high school nickname had less to do with academics than it had with his penchant for driving fast trucks and outrunning the sheriff of the day. Though that was in his past, he still held a reputation for being a risk-taker, not the kind of person Hannah could allow herself, a widowed mother of two, to be attracted to. The admiration in Lilibeth’s voice at Brody’s apparent recklessness only underlined Hannah’s previous assessment of Brody Harcourt.

In spite of that, when he turned back to her and his smile deepened, she was unable to look away from his dark gaze.

Again Hannah pushed down her foolish reaction, not sure what was wrong with her these days. It seemed that she’d had romance on her mind lately. She wanted to blame it on her friend Julie’s recent engagement or the plans for the Old Tyme wedding coming up next month, but the truth was, she’d been feeling lonely the past few months. The first year after David’s death, she had been on autopilot, trying to absorb the reality that her husband of only a couple of months was killed so soon after shipping out to Afghanistan. She had often felt that their brief marriage was an illusion, even though the twins that came of that marriage certainly weren’t.

“I understand you’re the person I need to talk to about reserving a booth at the fair?” Brody said, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning closer. “It’s for the firefighters.”

“I’ll get the form you need,” she said as the door of the hall opened again and Rusty Zidek came in. He pulled off his worn, brown, cowboy hat, smoothed down his gray hair and brushed his impressive cookie duster of a mustache. In spite of being ninety-six years old, Rusty managed to keep his finger on the pulse of what happened in Jasper Gulch. He and his Mule were often seen putt-putting down Main Street as Rusty sought out people to talk to and things to find out. Hannah wondered what he wanted from her today.

Rusty settled himself slowly into a chair beside Robin. She turned to him, asking him questions about Jasper Gulch. From the way Robin scribbled notes as he talked, Hannah assumed they would be busy awhile.

The phone rang just then and with an apologetic look toward Brody, Hannah answered it and set the application form for the booth on top of the counter, next to Brody’s hand.

As she did, she noticed Lilibeth had captured his attention again by batting long, thick eyelashes that Hannah suspected were glued on rather than natural. Lilibeth had her head cocked to one side, her finger resting on her cheek, her eyelashes fluttering, her smile showing off perfectly spaced teeth.

And for a moment, Hannah was surprised herself that Lilibeth hadn’t won the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. But what surprised Hannah even more was the faint uptick of jealousy Lilibeth’s flirtation created in her.

“So I hope I filled this out right,” Brody said, looking back at Hannah when she was done with her phone call. As he handed her the paper, their fingers brushed. A spark of awareness tingled down her arm and then his eyes locked with hers. His smile seemed to soften and deepen and her heart did a goofy little dance in her chest.

Then reality hit. She couldn’t help comparing herself, a harried mother of two toddlers who barely had time to run a brush through her hair, let alone apply makeup, to fresh-faced Lilibeth, who looked put together enough to be in a fashion magazine. Though she doubted Brody would be attracted to a nineteen-year-old, the comparison still made her feel old and worn-out.

“Looks good, Mr. Harcourt,” Hannah said, pushing down the futile emotions. “I look forward to seeing what the firefighters come up with.”

“And if I have any questions?”

“Just come to me.” Hannah hoped she sounded businesslike and not like a breathless schoolgirl in the presence of her crush. “Have a good day.” Then she looked past him as Robin got up to walk toward the counter.

“Can I help you, Robin?” Hannah asked, effectively dismissing both Brody and Lilibeth.

Brody paused a moment as if he did, indeed, have a question. But then Robin stepped up to the counter and he turned and stepped aside, smiling at a joke Lilibeth was telling him.

“Nice-looking couple,” Robin said as she set her folder of papers on the divider.

They’re not a couple, Hannah wanted to say, but she stopped herself. What did it matter to her that Robin thought Brody and Lilibeth were together?

“I returned those papers you lent me,” Robin continued, handing an envelope back to Hannah. “Though the documents were interesting, I was hoping to find out more about some of the occupations of the extended Shaw family. Olivia said to talk to you.”

Hannah bit her lip, thinking. “I’ll see what I can find. Mayor Shaw might have that information, as well.”

“I don’t want to bother him,” Robin murmured.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” Hannah assured her, then had to apologize as she answered the phone again. Her day didn’t look as if it would be slowing down anytime soon.

Or her life. She gave another quick glance at Brody, holding open the door for Lilibeth, then turned her attention back to her work. She had no space in her life for a man like him.

* * *

Well, that didn’t go as well as he had hoped.

Brody Harcourt dropped his hat on his head and heaved out a sigh as he held the door of the town hall open for Lilibeth Shoemaker. He had been the one to pitch the idea of setting up a booth for the firefighters at the fair precisely because he had hoped he could spend some time with Hannah Douglas.

Brody had been a senior in high school when he and his parents first moved to their new ranch in Jasper Gulch, and already then Hannah Douglas, with her gentle smile and perky demeanor, had caught his attention. But other than one summer when he was graduated and she and David had briefly split up, she had always been David Douglas’s girl.

Now she was David Douglas’s widow and the mother of his twins and, from the way she had just treated him, still not interested in him.

“If I make a basket, you’ll have to make sure to bid on it,” Lilibeth was saying to him. “I’ll let you know what it looks like.”

“Isn’t that against the rules?” he said as he tugged his cell phone out of his pocket.

Lilibeth simpered at him, then shrugged. “My sisters do it all the time.”

“I might be too busy to bid anyway,” Brody said, giving a quick glance at the screen. A text from his friend Dylan. He was already at the café and waiting for him.

“Well, you set some time aside for me,” Lilibeth gave him a coy smile, then sashayed down Main Street.

“She’s quite the spitfire, isn’t she?”

Rusty Zidek’s gravelly voice behind Brody made him spin around. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed, looking back at Lilibeth, who shot him one last look over her shoulder as she stepped into her car.

“She seems overly upset lately about not winning the Miss Jasper Gulch contest,” Rusty continued, stroking his mustache, his grin showing the glint of a gold tooth.

“Her pride probably got bruised. Two of her sisters won before and I think she’s feeling the sting of sisterly competition.” Brody gave the elderly man a quick smile. “I have two sisters. They’re always one-upping each other. Clothes, boyfriends, jobs.”

“So was she nattering to Hannah about the contest, then?” Rusty asked, his voice nonchalant. But Brody caught a flicker of intensity in his eyes and was curious about his furtive movements.

“All I know is that she wanted to find out more about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. Claimed it was rigged. She was asking if Hannah could access the minutes from the council meetings.” Brody felt like a tattletale, but he was curious where Rusty was going with this.

Rusty nodded slowly, as if digesting this information. “Well, we’ll need to discuss that later.” Then he looked up at Brody, his expression serious. “And I heard that you’ve said you would be willing to be part of the Time Capsule Committe.”

“Yeah, about that...” Brody paused a moment, thinking of the work ahead of him and his father on the ranch. They had just expanded and were busier than previous years. “Not so sure I can do it.”

“We could use your help trying to find the town’s missing time capsule. Deputy Calloway had his concerns about your being on the committee, but he did say if you were willing, he would overlook them.”

Brody knew exactly what those concerns were. He and Deputy Calloway had had a few run-ins during Brody’s wilder years. But Rusty’s comment made him uncertain, his pride battling with his ongoing desire to prove himself trustworthy.

“Hannah is the new secretary,” Rusty added with a little nudge of his elbow.

Brody held Rusty’s gaze, his piercing blue eyes nestled in a valley of wrinkles, a road map of his years and experience. Rusty had seen a lot coming and going in this town, and Brody knew the older man didn’t miss much.

“Well, that has a certain appeal,” he admitted. No sense being less than straight up with someone like Rusty.

“Kind of thought it might,” Rusty said with a smug look. “We started meeting in the late afternoon, to accommodate Hannah’s schedule. Our next meeting is Wednesday.”

“I’ll be there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet Dylan at Great Gulch Grub.”

“See you later,” Rusty said, then turned and walked across the street to the bakery where Brody saw his camouflage-colored Mule was parked.

Brody followed him but ducked into Great Gulch Grub. He saw Dylan sitting at a table toward the back of the noisy café, his hands clasped on either side of his shaved head, glowering at a large manual lying on the scarred, Formica-covered table.

“Can I please get a coffee and a piece of Vincente’s amazing apple pie?” Brody asked Mert, who stood behind the counter. Behind her he could hear Vincente singing snatches of an unfamiliar song. Probably some opera thing that he seemed to enjoy.

Mert’s hair was pulled back in her perpetual bun, but this late in the day a few hanks of hair had come loose and hung around her narrow face.

“What am I, your wife?” she quipped, giving the empty counter a wipe with the cloth she held.

“I still live in hope,” Brody said, sweeping his hat off his head and placing it on his chest.

“You should get your own in time for the Old Tyme wedding going on next month,” Mert teased. “I thought a romantic like you would be all over that event.”

Brody just laughed, Mert’s innocent comment making him think of Hannah. “Not yet, Mert. Not yet.”

“Don’t worry, cowboy, I know your future bride is out there. And if she’s not ready, we’ll find someone for you.”

“That makes me worry,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “I can find my own wife, thank you very much.” Then, before Mert could carry the conversation any further, he strode to the back of the café, greeting a few of the people he knew and dropping into an empty chair across from his friend.

“Troubles with the motorbike?” he asked, glancing over the pages Dylan was studying.

“Yeah. Something with the manifold.” Dylan sighed. “Sure wish you hadn’t sold yours. I could’ve scammed some parts from it.”

“Everything has its season and the motorbike’s was over.”

“We sure had some good times with them,” Dylan said.

Brody’s thoughts ticked back to those trips with Dylan, roaring through the countryside, carefree and foolish. He also remembered how happy his parents were when he sold the bike.

“So, thoughts about the booth for the fair?” he asked, changing the subject. “I already picked one out.”

“Me and the other guys were thinking we should get a corner one so we can park the fire truck behind it. Kids can sit in it. They love that kind of thing.”

“Here you go, cowboy,” Mert said to Brody, setting his pie and coffee in front of him. “Enjoy, and let me know when you’re ready to go wife shopping.”

“I’m fine,” Brody said with a grin. He picked up the fork and dug into his pie, his mouth watering. “I’ll have to go back and talk to Hannah again and change the booth if you want a corner one,” he said to Dylan between mouthfuls of cinnamon-laced apple pie.

The idea appealed, but he wanted to take a day to regroup and find another way to turn on the charm.

“You could talk to her now,” Dylan said, raising his chin toward the door.

Hannah came in, glanced around the café, then seemed to hesitate when she saw him, the smile on her face fading away. Brody knew the only empty table in the café was beside him and Dylan.

Her hesitation stung. A little. Though he knew she was a widow, he had nurtured a faint hope that maybe, eventually, he could let her see there were other fish in the sea. Him being one of the fish.

Then, with a gentle smile for Dylan and a polite one for him, she sat down at the empty table, her back to Brody.

Dylan raised his eyebrow, as if in question, and nodded toward Hannah again. “Here’s our chance.” He leaned over to look past Brody. “Hey, Mrs. Douglas. Brody needs to talk to you.” Then Dylan nudged Brody under the table with his foot and Brody had no choice but to deal with this.

With a glare at his friend, Brody wiped the piecrust crumbs off his face, put on a smile and turned around in his chair.

“Hi again,” he said, leaning his arm across the back of the wooden chair. “So. About that booth. Could we make a change?”

Hannah held his gaze and then looked down at the cell phone she clutched as if she needed to do something with it. “Depends on what you want to do.”

Still not too eager to talk to him, he noted. He pulled in a breath and pushed on. “Dylan and I were just talking. Could we snag a corner booth instead? We were hoping to set up a fire truck behind it if there’s room.”

That caught her attention. Her subsequent smile and excitement reignited a glimmer of hope. “That would be a great idea,” she said.

“We thought the kids would like that, too,” Brody said, encouraged by her enthusiasm. “We could get some little fire hats to give away.”

“What do you think of getting someone to take pictures of the kids with their hats on standing by the truck?” Her infectious smile increased her appeal. Her dark eyes lit up, and the light from the window behind her made her brown hair shine. She wore it loose and it flowed over her shoulders. Like melted chocolate.

“I think Scottie Sawchuk at the station has a good camera. We could get him set up. What do you think of selling people the pictures?”

“As part of the fund-raiser. Great idea.” Her eyes sparkled with eagerness and a full, genuine smile curved her soft lips.

And dived into his heart and settled there.

“Perfect. If you could get us that corner stall, we’re in business.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” she said.

Brody nodded, unable to ignore the knock of awareness he felt. She blinked, and her smile slowly faded. A cloud slid across the sun and the light left with her smile, followed by an awkward silence. Brody felt his brain seize up as he tried to find something clever to say.

“If there’s nothing more...” Hannah let the sentence hang, giving him the perfect opportunity to capitalize on the moment, but nope. Still nothing.

Since when was he tongue-tied in the presence of a woman?

Since it was Hannah Douglas. And though his mind was blank, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

“No. I think that’s it,” he said finally.

“Then I’ll let you get back to your dessert,” she said.

Her words were polite and her voice cool and once again Brody got the impression she was trying to get rid of him. Then she turned away and Brody returned to his pie.

“So I guess we’ve got that settled then,” Dylan said, closing his book and looking up at his friend, thankfully unaware of Brody making unsuccessful googly eyes at Hannah Douglas. “You stopping at the hall before you go to the ranch?”

“I need to pick up a shirt I left behind there after our last call to Alfie Hart’s place.”

“Still can’t believe you were about to go into that barn for his dog.”

Brody just shrugged as he took another bite of pie. The fire Dylan talked about had been straightforward until Alfie called out that his dog was inside the barn. Alfie was a bachelor and he and his dog were inseparable. Alfie had run to the barn with the idea of getting the dog out himself. Brody had pulled him back and had promised he would check it out. But as he put on his mask and headed into the building, the dog came charging around the other side.

“Someday you’ll have a reason not to be such a daredevil,” Dylan said, closing the manual and leaning back in his booth. “Like a girlfriend.” He gave Brody a smirk as if he knew that Brody was far too aware of Hannah sitting right behind him.

Brody just ignored him, wolfed down the last of his pie, chased it with coffee and stood.

“Let’s go.” Brody pulled out his wallet, fished a few bills out and dropped them on the table.

But before he left, he chanced another look at Hannah. And was surprised to see her looking at him, her eyes holding a question.

Then she turned away, effectively dismissing him.

Again.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Dylan asked Brody as they walked down Main Street back to the fire station.

“Who?”

Dylan nudged him with his elbow. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Hannah Douglas. I know you’ve always liked her.”

Brody shrugged off his friend’s comment, preferring not to go back to that time. “That was many years and a lot of experiences ago.”

“Just as well. Those twins are a big responsibility. You want to date that woman, you’ve got huge shoes to fill.”

“David had big feet?” Brody asked, deliberately misunderstanding what Dylan was saying.

Dylan seemed to ignore his remark. “David Douglas was a good guy,” he said, his voice quiet. Almost reverent. “A man that good shouldn’t have died on some Afghani field by a roadside. Lousy bombers making Hannah a widow and single mother.”

“Only the good die young,” Brody murmured.

“He was always the first to volunteer for stuff. Always helping people.” Dylan was quiet a moment, as if remembering all the good things David Douglas had done. “Remember that summer when I was thinking of quitting my job as a carpenter? Leaving Jasper Gulch?”

“Was that the summer we cruised down the Oregon coast on our motorbikes?” Brody sighed. “I don’t think we drove under ninety that whole trip.”

“Yup. That summer. I never told you what happened when I came back from that trip because I felt embarrassed.”

“About what?”

Dylan shrugged, then crossed over the street. “You and I were pretty wild then. Neither of us attended church anymore.”

Though his relationship with God was an integral part of Brody’s life now, for many years the faith he had been born and raised with had been relegated to the “someday” corner of his life. The same place the wife and the three kids were always put. Somehow, in his wilder years, he had always assumed when he was ready for God, the rest would fall into place, as well.

Now he was twenty-nine and still no closer to finding a wife than he had been then.

“Well, I was feeling down,” Dylan was saying.

Brody punched him in the shoulder. “That was why we went on the trip. To get you out of that funk.”

“Trouble was, it didn’t help. I didn’t know what I wanted. David came over when we got back from our trip. He said he was concerned about me. Said he wanted to pray with me. It felt a little funny, especially after all the goofing around you and I had done, but I said yes.” Dylan shrugged, as if still self-conscious about what had happened. “Anyhow, praying with him gave me such peace and comfort. He came once a week just to talk and see how things were with me. He encouraged me to start coming back to church.”

Brody felt a flash of guilt at the memory. What a contrast. One friend who figured going crazy was the way to fix the problems in Dylan’s life. The other, who wasn’t even as close to Dylan as Brody was, knowing the right thing to do.

“So that’s why you started going back to church,” Brody said quietly as he punched in the pass code to get into the fire station. “I always wondered.”

“It was. We talked about work and jobs and he told me being a carpenter was a good thing to do. That building houses was important. That maybe I should find a way to give to the community, as well. Step outside of myself. And that’s when I volunteered for this gig,” he finished, his wave taking in the fire hall as they walked up the stairs to the dorms where they slept and kept their personal gear.

Brody felt a moment of letdown. “I always thought you signed up because of me.”

“Kind of, but mostly because of David. He did a lot of good for a lot of people.”

And Hannah, as well.

The hardest fire to fight is an old flame, Brody thought, reality falling into his life like the thud of an ax. He always had a vague feeling Hannah was out of reach.

Now he knew for sure.

* * *

By the time Hannah locked the doors of town hall, the pain behind her eyes had blossomed into a full-blown headache. Her feet ached and her back was sore and she generally just felt sorry for herself after such a busy day. But as she trudged across Main Street to her apartment, she stopped her moments of self-pity.

Forgive me, Lord, she prayed. Help me be thankful for what I have.

The twins were healthy and she had the support of her friends and family.

But I’m alone.

The taunting thought worried at her moment of peace. Truth to tell, her loneliness had taken on a new hue the past few months. Losing David so soon after they married had been difficult. He had been a part of her life since she was in grade school. They had dated since the ninth grade. He was all she had ever known.

When he had signed up for the army, she had tried to be supportive. But when he proposed marriage just before he had received his orders to ship out, she had struggled with his urgency to get married. Her parents had simply told her to go with her heart. If she had followed their advice, she would have put off the marriage. She would have waited, but when David’s parents had added their voices to his, they created a pressure she was unable to withstand.

Two months later, she was a widow and pregnant with twins, unable to indulge in second thoughts. Her life had been a whirlwind of uncertain emotions and busyness ever since.

And in the past few months, a sense of loneliness had been added to the emotional stew.

Her thoughts slipped back to Brody as she opened the door leading to the stairs up to her apartment. Was it her overactive imagination, or maybe her lonely heart, that thought he had been flirting with her?

No sooner did that thought form than she heard Chrissy’s wails growing louder as she walked up the narrow stairs. Hannah took the last flight two at a time, digging in her purse for the key to the door.

Inside her apartment her mother sat in a wooden rocking chair holding a sobbing Chrissy, Corey clinging to her denim skirt, also crying. Chrissy’s blond curls clung to her forehead, and as Hannah closed the door, the little girl leaned away from her grandmother and reached out for Hannah, tears flowing down her scrunched-up cheeks.

“Oh, honey,” Hannah said, taking the hot bundle of sadness from her mother and tucking Chrissy’s warm head under her chin. “You’re still not feeling good, are you?” Chrissy released a few more sobs then quieted. Hannah dropped to the floor, shifted Chrissy to one arm, then scooped Corey up with her other arm. As he snuggled into her, blessed silence descended in the apartment.

“How was your day?” her mother asked, still sitting in the chair, her head resting against the back. Her glasses were smudged and her hair mussed and Hannah suspected the orange stain down the front of her shirt was from lunch.

“You look tired, Mom,” she said, guilt falling like a familiar weight on her shoulders. “I should have come here at lunchtime instead of going to the café.”

Her mother waved off her objections and smiled. “You needed the break. Your father came and helped me with the children. We had fun, though I’m sorry I didn’t have time to clean up.”

Hannah took in the toys scattered around the apartment with its mismatched furniture given to her by friends and people from the community. When she imagined becoming a mother and bringing grandchildren into her parents’ lives, this was not the picture she had envisioned.

“And how was your day?” her mother repeated.

“It was busy,” Hannah replied, nuzzling Chrissy, who lay quietly in her arms now, her chubby hands clutching at Hannah’s sweater. “We received far more people signing up for the fair than originally estimated.”

“That will be good. I just hope the committee doesn’t listen to all those people who want to fix the bridge,” her mother said as she folded her arms over her chest. “I much prefer to see the museum we had talked about for so long finally getting built. We don’t need that bridge,” her mother continued. “Some things are better left alone.”

Hannah pressed a kiss to Corey’s damp head, making a noncommittal sound. The entire bridge versus museum controversy and where the fund-raising money should go was starting to split the community. As an employee of the town, Hannah had found it best to simply listen and not get drawn into either side of the discussion.

“Did you get to the park today?” Hannah asked, diverting her mother’s attention elsewhere. The sun, shining through the windows of town hall had taunted her all day and, once again, made her wish she didn’t have to work. Made her wish she could live off the small pension she received from the military. Because David had barely graduated training and because he had signed up for the minimum of life insurance, Hannah was managing by the thinnest of margins. David’s insurance payout was in a savings account she slowly added to each month.

In a year or so she might have enough saved up to buy her and her children a little house. Their own place. The twins would have a yard and be able to play outside. Though her parents had offered for her to move in with them, she valued her independence too much. In the meantime, she made do with this apartment and working as much as she dared.

“No. Chrissy was tired,” her mother said. “And I just wanted to stay in the apartment.”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Hannah said. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

“I know, honey.” Her mother sighed as she stood. “I wished I could have gone out with them, but there it is.” She glanced over at the tiny kitchen beside them. “And I didn’t do the dishes from lunch, either. By the time I got the children down for their nap, I needed one myself.”

Hannah waved off her concern, fighting her own weariness and another surge of guilt. “I don’t expect you to do everything,” Hannah said. “I’m just thankful you and Dad help out as much as you do.”

“We’re glad we can do this for you.” Leaning over, she brushed a gentle kiss over Hannah’s cheek. “You’ve been such a brave girl, dealing with losing David. Never a word of complaint.” Her mother kissed each of the twins in turn and then straightened. “You know we pray for you every day when your father and I have our devotional time.”

“I know.” This created another flush of shame. The only prayers Hannah seemed to have time for were the panicky ones that were either please, please, please or thank you, thank you, thank you. Her faith life, of late, had become fallow and parched. “And someday I’ll make it back to church.” She wouldn’t soon forget the last time she had made the attempt with her toddlers in tow. It had been a disaster.

“I know you will.” Her mother gave her a smile, then walked over to the closet by the front door to collect her coat. “I’d better get going. I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said, and then, with another wave, her mother left.

The apartment felt suddenly empty. Hannah fought down the usual twinge of loneliness and clutched her babies tighter. She had her kids. She had her family.

That should be enough.

She set the twins down on the floor to play, but as she stood to clean the kitchen, she stopped by the window overlooking Main Street and the fire station across the street from the hardware store.

Images of Brody Harcourt slipped through her mind. She shook them off. Brody was better matched with a young, pretty girl who had no attachments. No history.

And she was better off with someone more solid and settled.

If she could ever find anyone like that who would also be willing to take on another man’s children.

Such a silly dream, she thought, turning away from the window and back to her reality.

Chapter Two

Brody parked his truck in front of his cabin, turned off his engine and dragged his hands over his face as if smoothing out his thoughts.

All the way back to the ranch he had been thinking about what Dylan had said about David. When he heard Hannah was planning the fair, he was the one who had pitched the idea to his buddies at the fire station to set up a booth. All so he could find a reason to go talk to her.

When Rusty told him that Hannah was the secretary of the Time Capsule Committee, he thought this was another opportunity.

Then Dylan had told him what he had about David and once again Brody felt he was wasting his time.

He looked over at his parents’ house perched up on the hill. His father had built it for his mother after they had talked about expanding the ranch. Brody had been dating a girl he met in Bozeman and he thought things were getting serious between them and he and his father started making plans for the future. Trista was perfect in every way. Young. Pretty. Loved the ranch. Loved horses. Loved him. Or so he’d thought until her old boyfriend came back into town and she started pulling away. Brody had no desire to play second fiddle to anyone, so they both decided it was best if they broke up.

His mother had been more brokenhearted than he had been. Which made him wonder just how much he had cared for Trista.

He had dated a couple of girls since then but nothing seemed to take. Somehow, in some twisted part of his mind, he compared every woman he ever met to Hannah.

Then David died.

Brody had bided his time, giving her space, and thought maybe now was the time. He had figured wrong.

Brody got out of the truck, a chilly breeze fingering down his neck. Fall was coming and with it the work of gathering the cattle.

He stepped inside his cabin and dropped the mail he had picked up on a table just inside the door. He was about to leave again but took a moment, looking around the interior, trying to see it through others’ eyes.

Hannah’s eyes?

It was the main ranch house when his parents moved here, but the family had only lived here until a new, larger home was built. When Brody graduated high school, he’d moved back here, preferring to have his own place. Though he had spent a number of years away from Jasper Gulch, traveling, he always knew he would come back to the ranch to stay. For the past six years this cabin had been his home.

An old leather couch, chair and love seat, all cast off from his parents, crowded around a woodstove in the living room. Opposite them stood a table with four mismatched chairs parked under a large window overlooking the ranch. The kitchen area was to his right. It had a few cabinets and a fridge and stove, also taken from his parents’ home when they upgraded and renovated the main ranch house. Between the dining and living area was a hallway leading to two small rooms and a bathroom/laundry room.

For a moment he wondered what Hannah would think of this house.

He caught himself and stopped that thought before it had a chance to take root. He had to be practical, and Dylan’s comments about taking on the twins and the ensuing responsibility were a reminder of what came with Hannah. The history he would have to compete with. Besides, Hannah didn’t seem very interested.

He left to see where his father was. He strode up the graveled walk to his parents’ house, a two-and-a-half-story home built into a hillside and surrounded by pine trees.

He knocked on the large double doors, then, without waiting for an answer, walked inside. The open foyer was piled with old boots, clothes and boxes of various sizes. All evidence of an ongoing cleaning operation his mother had undertaken in the past few months but was having a hard time finishing. He toed off his boots and dropped his hat on top of a pile of boxes labeled Jennifer and Sophia. His sisters who were both living in Denver.

His mother sat at the eating counter of the kitchen to the right of the entrance, hunched over her iPad, her elbow resting on the granite countertop, supporting her chin.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked, looking past her to the open living room that took up most of the house. His father’s leather recliner, sitting on one side of the rock-covered fireplace, only held a stack of papers. His mother’s, on the other side, held her latest project, a scarf she had been knitting under Julie Shaw’s tutelage.

“He headed out to check the high pasture,” she said, flicking through a series of pictures. “He took the old ranch truck.”

“He’d better not be moving cows,” Brody said, frowning. His father had recently had a bout of heart issues and though he claimed he was feeling better, Brody didn’t want him doing the hard work he used to.

“Dad said he would wait until Lewis was back, which won’t be until after next weekend.” His mother swiped her finger over the screen of the iPad again, smiling at what she was seeing.

Lewis was their hired hand. He had gone to Helena for the weekend courting a woman he had met at the rodeo held in Jasper Gulch a couple of months ago.

“What are you looking at?” Brody asked, pulling a tall stool up beside her.

His mother sighed lightly and turned the iPad toward him. “Aunt Kirsty sent me some pictures of her newest grandson, Owen.” This was said with a sigh tinged with envy. “The newest of six.” She looked up at him and emitted a second sigh meant to create a hint, but Brody simply patted her on the shoulder and grinned.

“Sophia sounds like she and her guy are getting serious,” he said, hoping to shift his mother’s attention from him to his sister. “Someday they might give you grandkids.”

She looked back at the picture of the chubby baby boy sucking on his fingers wearing a blue-and-white-striped shirt. “So, how was your morning? Did you get your stuff all set up for the fair?” Hopefully the shift in topic meant that was the end of that train of thought. His mother had been getting all nesty lately, dropping hints left and right.

“Yeah. Looks like it will be a big deal. Lots of exhibitors.”

“This centennial sure has made a lot of people busy. The rodeo, the baseball game, the fair.” She sighed and her smile grew wistful. “The Old Tyme wedding next month.”

She angled her head and Brody knew his mother’s mental train had merely taken a short side trip and was back on track.

“Maybe you could participate.” Her tone was teasing, but Brody sensed the hope behind it.

For some reason, his mind immediately went to Hannah, imagining her as a bride.

Really? He shook the thought aside.

“Yeah. Like I’m going to find someone by that time,” he returned with a grin.

“Your father and I met and were married in two weeks,” his mother said. “You’ve got time. Mayor Shaw has a couple of real nice daughters. Pretty, too.”

“Julie is engaged,” he said.

And he was sure Mayor Shaw, a man very protective of his daughters, would not allow Book-it Brody to have anything to do with Faith, his last single daughter. Besides, while Faith was pretty and fun, she didn’t hold any attraction for him.

An image of Hannah slipped into his mind. How she bantered with him. How her eyes had lit up when they’d had that conversation in the café.

“What are you smiling about?” his mother asked.

Brody gave his mother a wry glance. Trust her to catch the tiniest shifts in his mood.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Well, you better start thinking about my need for grandkids. I want to have them before I’m too old to enjoy them.”

Brody laughed and patted his mother on the shoulder. “Just give me time,” he said. “Things will work in God’s own good time.”

His mother sighed. “I know. I just wish God would let me know when that time will be. So I can start a new knitting project. Julie Shaw just put some new wool up on her website that would be perfect for a baby sweater.”

“Whoa. Stop there,” Brody said. “One step at a time.”

“I know. I’m just nudging you a little toward that first step,” she said, turning back to her iPad.

Brody looked over at the pictures and smiled at the toothless grin of the little boy. Of their own accord, his thoughts shifted to Hannah and her twins.

And on the heels of that came Dylan’s comment about taking on that responsibility. He wasn’t so sure he was ready for that.

* * *

“I’d like to call this meeting to order,” Deputy Cal Calloway announced, glancing over the gathering. Rusty Zidek sat across the table from Hannah, fingering his long, gray mustache as he looked over the agenda in front of him. Abigail Rose sat beside him, frowning at Hannah. “And I would like to thank Mrs. Douglas for agreeing to take over from Miss Rose to be our new secretary. Abigail asked to step down, stating her obligation to the Centennial Committee, but we’re glad she decided to stay with us.”

This netted Hannah a wink from Rusty and a sigh of relief from Cord Shaw. Cal gave her a quick smile of thanks, his blue eyes twinkling at her, then he returned to the agenda.

The meeting was being held in one of the smaller rooms adjacent to the council chambers. As Hannah opened the laptop she used to take minutes for the town meetings, she glanced at the time on the top of the screen.

Hannah had promised her mother she would be home by five. It was three-thirty now and she needed to stop at the pharmacy to pick up medication for Chrissy, whose teething pain still hadn’t settled. Plus, she needed more laundry detergent. And juice and a new mop. Her old one had broken on her as she rushed around the apartment last night cleaning up while the twins were sleeping.

As her mental list expanded, Hannah felt another resurgence of sorrow mingled with anger at David’s death. If they hadn’t gotten married so quickly she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant and she wouldn’t be rushing around right now juggling all these obligations on her own.

Hannah dismissed that thought as quickly as it was formulated. She loved her babies. Fiercely. It was just that she wished her babies had a father and that they could have known David.

Her thoughts were broken off by the door opening. As it had the last time, she saw Brody Harcourt, and her heart gave a little jump. It had been almost a week since he had come into the town hall and somehow, ever since then, he had been on her mind. The fire station was only a couple of buildings away and she had caught the occasional glimpse of him when she returned to her place for lunch. But he hadn’t come back to the town hall since that day.

Then, to her dismay, he pulled out the empty chair beside her and sat down. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment, then dragged her attention back to the flickering cursor on the blank screen. She typed a header for the document. Deleted it and started again when she realized her fingers were on the wrong keys. Seriously, she had to get her head in the game. It wasn’t as if Brody was new in town and they had just met.

No, but it was the first time since David’s death any man had shown interest in her.

And you shut him down.

And so she should have. She was a widow with two children who required all her time and attention. And Brody Harcourt was the kind of man who liked to take risks. Not the kind of person she should be attracted to.

She swallowed and focused on Deputy Cal Calloway, who was making a few additions to the agenda. Hannah started typing, mentally sorting and filtering what needed to go in the minutes from what was being said.

“The first item we need to deal with is if we need to do anything more with this note we received.”

“Which note is this?” Brody asked.

“I’ll bring you up to speed, Brody,” Cal said, spreading a piece of paper in front of him. “Cord received this letter a while back. We’re not sure what to do about it.” He rested a hand on the table as he looked down at the paper. “It says, ‘If you want to know what happened to your time capsule, you need to think about L.S.’ Now, we aren’t sure who L.S. is, but we have a suspicion it might be Lilibeth Shoemaker.”

“How did you get the note?” Brody asked.

“It came anonymously to Abigail,” Cord spoke up. “Sent in a dirty envelope. No return address. No idea who brought it.”

“Me and the mayor asked Olivia to look into what was in that time capsule,” Abigail put in, looking self-important. “And we both thought we should keep an eye on Lilibeth.”

“So now we need to decide what to do about this,” Cal said. “As you know, the sheriff’s office is stretched thin, so we’re hoping this committee could help us with this.”

“I say we confront her,” Abigail said, inspecting her electric-blue nails, her glasses glinting in the bright lights of the meeting room. “She was pretty angry about losing that beauty contest. I’m sure she did it to get even and she needs to know you can’t steal stuff belonging to the town.”

“Now, Abigail, we don’t know for sure she is a suspect in spite of her being upset,” Cal admonished her. “And whoever sent this note wasn’t ready or willing to show his or her face. It could just be someone who has an ax to grind with Lilibeth.”

“Or it could be someone who knows something,” Abigail pressed.

Rusty leaned forward, looking over at Brody. “Say, Mr. Harcourt, I noticed at the town hall the other day that Ms. Shoemaker seemed mighty interested in you.”

Hannah was surprised at the twinge of jealousy Rusty’s comment gave her. And why she should even feel that way.

She thought of their conversation in the café last week. How, for a moment, she had felt it again. That slow curl of attraction she hadn’t felt in years.

Brody created a completely different set of emotions that made her feel as if she was being unfaithful to David’s memory.

“She’s a flirt, that’s all,” Brody said, his voice disinterested.

“She’s never flirted with me,” Cord said, grinning as he leaned forward to look past Hannah at Brody.

“Maybe it’s because I’m a romantic, whereas you’re a hardened bachelor who doesn’t believe in love,” Brody retorted. “Which makes me wonder why you’re on that Old Tyme Wedding Committee.”

“It’s because I’m a hardened bachelor,” Cord said with a laugh. “I can view things objectively.” Cord looked back down at the note in front of him, then over to Brody again. “As for Lilibeth, I think you should capitalize on her interest in you. Maybe see if you can find out what she knows. Turn on that Harcourt charm.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Abigail said, suddenly coming to life. “You could cozy up to her. Find out what she’s been up to. You’re a good-looking guy, she’d be interested in you.”

“I dunno about the good-looking part,” Cord drawled. He gave Hannah a little nudge with his elbow. “We need a second opinion. What do you think, Hannah? Would you be interested in a guy like Brody?”

Hannah could only stare at Cord, her mind going blank as she struggled to think what to say.

“I’m—I’m not Lilibeth Shoemaker, so—so I can’t—can’t say.” She clamped her lips on her stammering response and turned her attention back to the laptop in front of her, wishing her cheeks didn’t feel so warm. She was sure she was blushing.

“I think we should follow through on the note,” Rusty said, folding his gnarled hands over each other, his eyes narrowing as his piercing gaze moved to each member of the committee. “See where it takes us.”

“I’m not going to flirt with Lilibeth,” Brody said, a note of finality in his voice. “It’s not fair to her because I’m not even interested in her.”

His adamant tone created a surprising serenity in Hannah and his “not interested” comment, a tremble of hope.

“And we all know that Book-it Brody doesn’t look back or go where he’s not wanted,” Cord said with a hint of a smile. “Too proud.”

“But Lilibeth is the only one in town we know of with the initials L.S.,” Abigail continued, obviously not willing to let this go. “And what was she doing at town hall?”

Hannah assumed the question was addressed to her. “She was asking about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest,” she said. “She claimed it was rigged and wanted to find out more about it.”

“See. There you go. She’s snooping around. She’s hiding something.” Abigail slapped her hand on the table as she turned to Brody. “I think you’d better check her out, Brody.”

“I have a better idea,” Cord said, his drawl deepening. “Why don’t we get Mr. Harcourt and Mrs. Douglas to speak with her together. That way she won’t be suspicious and it would satisfy Brody’s tender sensibilities.”

Brody shook his head, wondering what Cord was up to. “I don’t know about that, either—”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Rusty cut into Brody’s protest, granting Hannah and Brody an avuncular look. “Why don’t you two take her out for coffee in the next couple of days. Feel her out about the time capsule. It’d be better if the two of you do it. Like Cord said, she won’t be as suspicious.”

“I agree,” said Deputy Calloway before Hannah could lodge her own protest. “We need to deal with this note, and this is the most discreet way to find out if Lilibeth has anything to do with the disappearance of the time capsule. Now, let’s move on to the next item on the agenda.”

Hannah’s fingers automatically typed the words as the meeting went on, but the entire time she typed she was aware of Brody sitting beside her and the “date” they were supposed to arrange.

Looked as if she didn’t have much choice. Spending time with Brody was probably not the best idea. She would simply have to remember that in spite of her feelings for Brody, she was a mother first and foremost.

Her thoughts flipped back to the conversation she had overheard between Dylan and Brody.

Brody’s job had so many risks. She didn’t think he was the kind of man she should allow her heart to follow.

Chapter Three

“Here’s my donation for the basket auction.” Annette Lakey set a large, cellophane-covered basket on the divider. Bright purple ribbons tied off the top of a basket loaded with bottles of shampoo, lotion, conditioner, a nail kit and assorted other goodies that Hannah assumed came from Annette’s hair salon, the Cutting Edge. Though Annette was a walking advertisement for her own salon with her black-and-pink-streaked hair, she also knew her clientele well enough and was a whiz with perms and basic cuts. “I also stuck in a gift certificate for a haircut.”

“This is excellent,” Hannah said, getting up to take the basket. “I’ll put it with the others.” She would have to bring some more of the baskets to Abigail’s today. She’d been storing the premade theme baskets in her apartment.

“Do you think you’ll get your fifty baskets? That still seems like a lot.”

By asking for fifty picnic baskets for the auction, the Jasper Gulch Centennial Committee wanted to tie in with the World’s Largest Old Tyme Wedding scheduled for next month, where fifty couples would be exchanging vows.

“We’re getting there. But a lot of people seem to want to make themed baskets, which helps.”

“Are you making one? For that special someone?” Annette asked with a gleam in her dark eyes.

Hannah’s thoughts slipped to Brody Harcourt, but she shook her head, flashing Annette a tight smile. “I’m making one, but just for the fund-raiser. Not anyone special.”

“Of course. I forgot about David,” Annette said, sympathy lacing her voice. “I’m so sorry.” More people in town seemed to treat her with a type of deference. As if losing David exalted her to a position above any other widow in the town.

Trouble was, Hannah had forgotten about David, too.

“Anyhow, I hope the committee doesn’t get pulled into channeling the money from this fund-raiser to the museum.” Annette said. “I mean, we’ve had two big events already that brought people to town and more coming. Tony and I were talking about it last night. We both agree the bridge should be fixed. It would mean more opportunities for his vet business, as well. I wish people would stop living in the past and move on.” Annette shrugged, then slung her bright pink, oversize bag over her shoulder. “It’s time the people of Jasper Gulch realize we need more than one road in and out of this burg.”

“You aren’t the first to make that comment.”

“I know there are people who are spooked by the fact that Lucy’s car ran off the bridge and she died all those years ago. But that happened so long ago that it’s time for the town to move on,” Annette added with a toss of her streaked hair. “Anyway, I better get going. Tony and I are going out for dinner tonight. You make sure to pass the message on to Mayor Shaw, will you?”

“I’ll let him know,” Hannah assured her.

“And next time you have a couple of hours, come into the salon. I’ll fix you up real pretty,” Annette said.

Hannah self-consciously lifted her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. She knew she was overdue for a cut. The last time she had sat in a beauty salon had been the day of her wedding. And that was a hasty appointment almost two years ago. For the most part, she wore her hair long and pulled back, and trimmed it herself in the mirror. Much easier with her busy life. “Thanks, but—”

“Some highlights and a bit of shaping would be perfect for you. You’d be adorable with bangs.” Annette pulled a card out of her capacious bag and set it on the counter. “I’ll even do it free. Anything for the wife of one of our brave soldiers.”

Her sympathetic smile made Hannah even more self-conscious.

She just returned Annette’s smile as the young woman tossed off a quick wave, then walked away. She reached for the heavy wooden door leading outside just as it swung open, sending in a shaft of afternoon sunlight into the main entrance of town hall.

Annette fell back, her hand on her chest. “My goodness, Brody, you almost knocked me over.”

Brody stepped into the entrance and tugged off his cowboy hat and Hannah felt that traitorous lift of her heart that accompanied thoughts of Brody.

“Sorry, ma’am. In a bit of a hurry,” she heard Brody say.

“Then I’ll let you get to it,” Annette said.

Brody waited until the door fell shut behind Annette, then he strode over to the counter, his smile fading away as his booted feet echoed in the large atrium of the town hall. He wasn’t smiling as he had last week when he’d come here, which managed to ease the silly beatings of her lonely heart.

“And what can I do for you, Mr. Harcourt?” she asked.

“So we’re back to that again?” he said, his tone serious.

She shrugged, pleased that she could hold his gaze. Not so pleased that she still felt that unwelcome flutter in her heart.

Forget about it, Hannah reminded herself, glancing at the picture of the twins she had sitting on one corner of her desk. Beside it was a picture of David in his dress uniform.

Seeing David’s picture was a gentle reminder and she pushed down her reaction to Brody, then turned back to him. “So what can I do for you?”

“Those your kids?” Brody asked, pointing to the picture beside her computer.

“Yes. Chrissy and Corey.”

“Cute little munchkins. They must keep you busy.”

His comment made her smile. “They do. But my parents help out a lot. My mother babysits every day I work.”

Brody straightened, his hands resting on the counter. “Nice picture of David,” he said, effectively bringing her deceased husband into the moment, as well.

David looked back at her, his expression serious, his dress uniform emphasizing his broad shoulders. She had gotten it only a few days ago from David’s mother. In memory of David’s birthday, she had told Hannah, giving her a hug of sympathy.

Hannah had placed it on the desk, though every time she looked at it, David’s eyes seemed sadder and sadder.

“Anyway, I came to check to see if you got us that corner booth like we talked about last week?”

Hannah nodded. “I managed to talk the vet clinic into moving and they were happy to oblige once they knew the fire department was taking that space.” She gave him a careful smile. “They figured it would only enhance their traffic.”

“I hope so.” Brody scratched the side of his head with a forefinger as if trying to draw out his next words. “Other reason I came was to talk about the job the committee wants us to take care of,” Brody said, all crisp, discreet and businesslike. “How do you think we should deal with Lilibeth?”

“I’m not sure. Do you have any ideas?”

Brody leaned his elbows on the counter, which only served to bring him closer to her.

“I’m no detective, but I’m guessing we can start with talking to her, see if she knows anything.”

“Which would give you the perfect opportunity to do what Abigail suggested?” Hannah asked, the faintly teasing comment slipping out of her.

Brody’s eyes cut to her and then a lazy smile curved his mouth. “You mocking me, Mrs. Douglas?”

Why had she given in to the impulse? Once upon a time she’d had a sense of humor. She hadn’t had much opportunity to use it for a while. But something about Brody seemed to tease it out of her.

“She might be a tough nut to crack,” Hannah continued. “You could be like the...” She struggled to dredge up the term. Then she snapped her finger. “I know, the honey trap.”

Brody’s smile deepened, which only served to make him look more attractive. “Thanks for your confidence in my abilities. I think I’ll stick with questions and answers.”

Their eyes held a heartbeat longer than necessary and Hannah felt as if her chest was constricting. She yanked her attention back to the matter at hand. “Sure. We can do that. Meantime, I could try to find out more about the Miss Jasper Gulch contest. That might be a good reason to take her out. Tell her what I know.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Brody nodded as he turned his cowboy hat around in his hands. “Why don’t you make the arrangements and let me know. Things will be picking up on the ranch in a couple of weeks, so the sooner the better.”

“Sure. I’ll call you.”

“Do you have my cell phone number?”

“No. I should get that from you.” She pulled out her cell phone and they exchanged numbers.

As she looked up at him, Brody’s smile faded and she wondered if he was upset with her teasing. “Just want to say I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “About the committee pushing us together like this.”

His apology was sincere and acknowledged a simple fact. So why did it make her feel sad?

“It’s okay. I can see why they want you to talk to Lilibeth. She does seem attracted to you and she’ll probably open up quicker to you than anyone else.”

“She’s just a kid,” Brody protested.

The door opened again and this time Mayor Shaw strode into the entrance. He wore a Western-cut suit jacket today, which, combined with his white shirt and black Stetson, gave him a commanding look. Usually he had a smile for Hannah, but today he looked especially grim.

His steps slowed when he saw Brody standing by Hannah’s desk.

“Afternoon, Harcourt,” Jackson Shaw said, stopping by the counter, his steely gaze ticking from Hannah to Brody. “How are things with you?” he asked, his deep voice smooth as any good politician’s should be.

“Fine, just fine,” Brody answered.

“Good year on the ranch?”

“We had a decent year. Only had a loss ratio of two percent, which we’ve never seen before,” Brody said, straightening as he spoke to the mayor.

Hannah didn’t blame him. Jackson Shaw was an imposing figure as well as a patriarch of the community. His ancestors were one of the two founding families of Jasper Gulch, the Shaws and the Masseys, and the only one to still have holdings in the area. Rather large holdings, too.

“That’s good. Better than we did at our outfit. You raise Angus, correct?”

“Red Angus.”

“Good breed. Thrifty calves. So, what brings you to town hall today?” Jackson’s mouth shifted as he looked from Brody to Hannah. “You’re not flirting with my secretary, are you?”

“Hannah and I are simply dealing with some time capsule business,” Brody said.

Jackson Shaw’s eyes narrowed. “She’s had a tough go, Book-it Brody. David was a good man. They don’t make many like him. He was a hero.”

Brody straightened, and his mouth became tight at Mayor Shaw’s not-so-subtle chiding and the use of his nickname. Hannah didn’t blame him. Though he hadn’t come out and said it, Mayor Shaw had inferred that Brody was in fact flirting with Hannah and was no match for David. Did Mayor Shaw see Brody as unsuitable?

You thought the same thing.

Mayor Shaw looked at Brody a moment longer, as if to underline what he’d said, then turned to Hannah. “How are things coming with the fair? Will we be able to fill the space?”

Hannah was surprised to see how quickly his expression shifted from stern to kind. How his features softened when he looked at her. It was as if he had pulled a mask off.

She couldn’t identify what about that bothered her. It was as if he was a different person depending on who he was talking to. “We have most of the spaces for booths spoken for,” she said. “The way things are going, I’m hoping we’ll be all booked up by the end of the week.” She hesitated a moment but felt she should say something on Brody’s behalf to Mayor Shaw. “In fact, Brody booked two booths for the firefighters,” she said. “And they hope to have their truck available for the children, which I’m excited about.”

Mayor Shaw nodded, shot another quick look at Brody, as if still assessing his character, then turned his attention back to Hannah. “Did you confirm plans with the company who will be doing the midway?”

“Yes. We’ll be having a carousel for the kids as well as a few other rides and a midway. We have them booked for the entire weekend.”

“Perfect. Really good.” He ran his hand over his hair and caught his lip between his teeth. Then without another word, he spun on his heel and with long, swinging strides walked away.

Brody blew out his breath as Jackson turned the corner and disappeared from view. Then he turned to Hannah. “Am I being oversensitive or did he seem kind of wound up?”

“He’s been under a lot of pressure lately. It seems half the town wants us to use the money from the fund-raisers for the museum we had planned for years, and the other half wants to use it to fix up the bridge over Beaver Creek, though Mayor Shaw prefers not to.” She sighed as she looked up at Brody. “I’m surprised he remembered your nickname.”

Brody slapped his cowboy hat against one leg. “I’ve had a few run-ins with him. I had his son Austin with me in the truck a couple of times when I got stopped by Deputy Calloway when we were in high school. Mayor Shaw collared me in the café and told me to stay away from his kid. Said I was a bad influence on him.” Brody paused a moment, then seemed to shrug it off. “That was in the past, but he can’t seem to let go. And, like Cord said, I don’t go where I’m not wanted, so I tend to avoid him if I can.”

“This time capsule theft has weighed heavy on his mind,” Hannah said in Mayor Shaw’s defense.

“It’s just a capsule. I’m sure there’s some neat memorabilia in it, but what could be in that capsule that losing it would make him so uptight?”

“I think he feels the pressure of his legacy. After all, Shaws have been a part of this community since it was founded. Maybe he feels like he’s let that legacy down, especially after the whole fiasco was televised.”

“I’m sure he feels foolish about it, but then again, he’s not the one who stole it,” Brody said with a laugh.

Hannah smiled at his joke. “No, but I know it bothers him.”

“Which gives us more reason to talk to Lilibeth. L.S., to be precise,” Brody said. “So if you can come with a few crumbs to give her from the minutes of the meetings, maybe we can get her to talk.”

“Or you could turn on that Harcourt charm?” Hannah said with a teasing grin.

Brody pointed a finger at her. “Don’t you start.”

Hannah’s grin widened, but she resisted the urge to make another quip.

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, then his gaze ticked over to David’s picture and he dropped his hat on his head, turned and walked away.

Hannah released a careful sigh as she watched him go with a feeling of regret. For a moment, just a brief moment, she’d felt like a woman. Not a mother of two children and the widow of a hero.

She looked back at David’s picture and made a face. “You put me in a real bind when you proposed just before you shipped out.” But no sooner did she speak the words than she felt the usual guilt that seemed woven through her memories of David.

Yes, she had loved David, but in the weeks leading up to their wedding there were times that she wished she could slow everything down. Step back. Take a breath.

But she had agreed to everything David had wanted because she loved him and he was a soldier going to fight for his country. She had agreed to the bare-bones civil ceremony with only Julie and his friend as attendants. Had agreed to the simple honeymoon in Bozeman at a bed-and-breakfast.

And then in a matter of heartbeats it was over. David had shipped out and she was left wondering if the wedding had happened at all.

Hannah sloughed off those pointless thoughts. Regardless of how it came about, she had married David and now was his widow raising his twins. This was her reality. She just had to go with what life brought her.

* * *

Brody drummed his fingers on the table of the booth at the back of the café. He wished, for the fifth time since he’d come here, that he hadn’t agreed to this meeting with Hannah and Lilibeth. First off, the whole idea that Lilibeth Shoemaker had anything to do with the time capsule theft was crazy. Sure she was upset, but she didn’t seem that vindictive. Second, meeting with Hannah was also not a good idea. He was having such conflicting thoughts about the girl. On the one hand, he was attracted to her. On the other, he thought of the complications that were a part of her life. Widow of a hero. Mother of twins.

The door of the café opened again and Hannah stepped inside. Her plain white T-shirt was enhanced by a cluster of silver dangly necklaces, fitted blue jeans and large black purse that gave her a simple but classy look.

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as Hannah walked toward him. She gave him a careful smile and then slipped into the seat across from him.

“Lilibeth not here yet?”

“Not yet.”

Hannah set her purse to one side and pulled out a file folder and set it on the table. “I managed to glean a few things from the minutes I thought might interest Lilibeth.”

“We’re not breaking some privacy act with this?” Brody asked.

Hannah shook her head, a hank of dark hair falling across her cheek. She tucked it back, looking at the folder she was flipping through. “No. In fact, Mayor Shaw read through the minutes himself to find what I might need. He thought I was too busy to do it myself.”

“He’s taking quite a personal interest in your involvement,” Brody said. An edge of anger entered his voice when he thought of Mayor Shaw. The man’s use of Brody’s nickname the other day and his apparent protectiveness toward Hannah still irked him. As if Brody had no right to show any interest in the man’s secretary.

“He knows I have a lot going on,” Hannah said, sounding defensive. “He’s been busy, so I really appreciated his taking time to help us with this.”

“Of course he’s busy,” Brody said, hoping to assure her. He was being oversensitive and he knew it. “There’s been a lot going on with the centennial and there’ll be even more happening over the next few months.”

“I just hope we can get this time capsule thing solved. I know it will take a huge load off his mind,” Hannah said, folding her hands. She released a light sigh, tapping her thumbs together as she glanced at her watch, looking everywhere but at him. She clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

“Have you seen Lilibeth?” Hannah asked finally. “She wasn’t working at the ice-cream parlor today.”

“I came here right from the ranch.”

Mert came with menus and set them on the table, then poured coffee for both of them. She raised one eyebrow, winked at Brody, then left. He stifled a sigh, guessing Mert’s knowing look was a result of her promise to find him a wife the last time he’d been here.

But her wink and look made him suddenly overly aware of Hannah. And, even more disconcerting, suddenly tongue-tied. Brody liked to pride himself on being able to chat up women, but something about Hannah sucked all the smart out of him.

Hannah cleared her throat and looked as if she was about to break the awkward silence, when he heard the sound of someone clearing his throat.

Brody fought down a beat of frustration as he glanced over at Ethan Johnson standing beside them. He wore his usual blue jeans and a sweatshirt that was ragged at the cuffs. He certainly didn’t look like a pastor.

“Hannah. Brody.” Pastor Ethan’s deep brown eyes flicked from one to the other as if assessing the situation. “Nice to see you two here.”

“Oh, we’re not together,” Hannah said, cutting off anything Pastor Ethan might have to say with a quick wave of her hand, her comment and action extinguishing the faint spark of encouragement Brody had felt. “Brody and I are here only on time capsule business.”

“Time capsule business,” Ethan said, his smile growing. “Sounds official.” He then reached into his back pocket. “I stopped at town hall but read your note that you would be here. I’m donating a basket to the auction. A food basket.”

He set a completed application in front of Hannah.

“Really?” The surprised word came out before Brody could stop it.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Ethan said, grinning at Brody. “Baking and cooking are manly occupations.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t,” Brody spluttered. “Just seems...interesting. Not something I would have associated with you.”

“Actually, it was a dare from Cord Shaw,” Ethan said. “We were talking about the basket auction and I asked him if he was going to bid on someone special’s basket. He kind of sneered about it. Said there was no one special for him and he wasn’t bidding on any basket unless it was to see if the person bidding was serious. So I told him if I donated a basket he had to bid. He laughed, agreed but said I wouldn’t do it. So here I am. Proving him wrong.” Ethan stood back and folded his arms over his chest, smiling down at Hannah.

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Maybe you could bid on it,” Ethan suggested to Hannah.

Was that a twinkle in his eye? Brody wondered. And was Hannah actually toying with her hair? As if she was flirting with him?

Jealousy twinged through Brody. Ethan, a pastor, would be exactly the kind of person Hannah should be with. Good-looking. A good man and well respected in the community he’d joined only a few months ago.

Someone who could probably hold a candle to David’s memory.

Brody clenched his hands under the table, wishing that didn’t bother him as much as it did.

“Trouble is, I can’t,” Hannah said as Brody focused his attention on his coffee. “I’m organizing it, so I would know who made which basket and it is supposed to be a secret.”

“Too bad,” Ethan said, looking from Brody to Hannah, his faint smirk showing Brody that he didn’t believe Hannah’s quick protestations that she and Brody were not here together. “But I won’t bother you anymore and shall leave you two alone.”

And before either Hannah or Brody could correct his assumption, he turned and walked away, stopping at a table farther on to chat with Chauncey Hardman and Rosemary Middleton, who sat at their table with their tea and knitting.

Brody watched as Ethan smiled and chatted, charm personified. A good man.

Like David.

The kind of man Brody wasn’t.

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