He’s finally back...

but time doesn’t heal all wounds

William Kauffman is back in his Michigan hometown, but not for long. When he runs into his high school sweetheart, Annie Curtis, she’s a reminder of everything and everyone he left behind, without an explanation, years ago. Are a sick mother, a failing diner, two adorable children and the woman he’s never stopped loving enough to make him right past wrongs and stay?

ELIZABETH MOWERS wrote her first romance novel on her cell phone when her first child wouldn’t nap without being held. After three years, she had a happy preschooler and a hot mess of a book that will never be read by another person. The experience started her down the wonderful path of writing romances, and now that she can use her computer, she’s having fun cooking up new stories. She’s drawn to romances with strong family connections and plots where the hero and heroine help save each other. Elizabeth lives in the country with her husband and two children.

A Promise Remembered

Elizabeth Mowers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09112-1

A PROMISE REMEMBERED

© 2019 Elizabeth Mowers

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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“Are you in a bad place now, William?”

“What do you mean?”

Annie shrugged. “Breezing back into town and then readying to leave again... What haven’t you told me?”

He paused, his hands grazing over hers before pulling away. “Nothing.”

Her wide eyes slowly narrowed. “Something.”

“You and I haven’t gotten off on the right foot, Annie, and I’d like to make a fresh start with you.”

“I don’t really know what to say.”

“Consider this gift a peace offering for all the times I should have been with you staring up at the moon. I really wish you would.”

“You missed a lot, William. And to suddenly start a friendship now...”

“I’m sorry. I should have been here.”

“No. You should have called me, instead of dropping off the face of the earth. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I assumed you didn’t care about me anymore.”

“I always cared,” William whispered. “I care.”

Dear Reader,

A long time ago, I heard the adage “Friends are the family you choose,” and as I have friends I embrace as sisters, I believe this to be true. As far as families go, sometimes they hurt us and sometimes we lose our way.

In A Promise Remembered, I wanted to imagine a community that would become family for Annie and William, who loved each other once upon a time but think a second chance at happiness is out of their reach. As Annie fights to protect her family and William runs from past mistakes, they might think they’re each too broken to choose a new life, a happier life. And yet, they have a cast of supportive friends—from Dan and Earl, to Margie and Joe—who love Annie and William enough to nudge them along to the happily-ever-after they both deserve. Because we all deserve friends who love us as family and a family that pulls us closer to love.

I wish that for us all.

I’d love to connect with you. Find me on Facebook on my author page or visit my website, elizabethmowers.com.

Wishing love to you and yours,

Elizabeth

To Mom, who always knew I’d be a writer.

To Dad, who was proud of me no matter what.

To Danielle, my moon baby.

To Michaela, my water baby.

And to Kevin, who won my heart in Marquette all those years ago.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

WILLIAM KAUFFMAN CLUTCHED his right hand in his lap, rubbing a thumb over the tops of knuckles that still carried the scabbed gash from the latest in his line of regrets. Slouched in the driver’s seat of his rusted-out Chevy truck, he carefully examined the wound. It was the only one visible to the world.

It wouldn’t be a long visit. Quite brisk in fact. Chinoodin Falls, Michigan, was the last place he wanted to be, but he owed it to his mother to make one last visit before hightailing it west and possibly out of the country. The thought of rescuing the 1981 Indian motorcycle rusting away in her shed, which should have passed directly to him, was highly motivating, too. If he could sell his truck for a few bucks, he could travel farther on his true father’s wheels—undetected.

Parked along the street, with the Chevy’s engine gently idling, William eyed the illuminated windows of the greasy spoon where he’d been trapped most evenings and weekends as a child. A bland storefront with a faded green awning over the entrance, the dimly lit Pop’s Place sign hung crookedly over the front door. The sight, so long forgotten, now aroused in him a giddy fantasy of the words coming unfastened and crashing to the ground. He silently wished it to happen. If it did, perhaps he’d know in his heart that burying his ugly past spent there was somehow genuinely possible.

As the early summer sun sank beneath the Lake Superior shoreline, casting hues of oranges and purples over the charming downtown Main Street, William grimaced at patrons shuffling through the diner’s open doors. The only thing slower than their moseying walk was their drawn-out Upper Peninsula accent, a mimic of folks from Northern Wisconsin and Minnesota. They carried on into Pop’s Place as if they hadn’t a care in the world: he despised them. His eyes darted along the storefront window, straining for a glimpse of his mother and some sign that returning to Chinoodin Falls after a twelve-year absence wasn’t the terrible mistake he feared it to be. He was an older version of the angry kid who’d taken off years ago, but as he shook out his aching right hand to turn off the ignition, he didn’t feel any wiser.

He pulled his grease-stained baseball cap down snugly over his forehead and shoved his fists in the front pockets of his worn-out blue jeans before jutting across the street. He reminded himself that nobody in this little town knew what he had done, and they wouldn’t find out unless he was foolish enough to tell them. All he had to do was make a quick visit to appease his mother, persuade her to give him the motorcycle and then sell his truck. He’d only have to invest two to three days tops before he could be on his way. If he kept his head down and stuck to the plan, no one could stop him from escaping west.

* * *

ANNIE CURTIS WIPED perspiration from her brow with the top of her shoulder while carrying a tray of dinners to table four. She slid the plates to each patron with a brief nod before noticing the lone straggler sauntering through the front door.

“Take a seat anywhere, honey,” she called, as he had seemed to miss the Seat Yourself sign. Without acknowledging her, he sidled up to the end of the counter and stood a menu in front of him, partially shielding his face from view. Annie refilled soda glasses for table three before cruising along the counter, order pad in hand.

“What can I get you?” she asked the cracked menu cover as the stranger ducked behind it.

“Joyce,” he said in a barely audible grumble.

Annie frowned, cocking her head closer. “Excuse me?”

“Send Joyce out, would ya?”

“Joyce isn’t working the dining room tonight. You’re stuck with me. What can I get you to drink?”

The stranger readjusted the menu and peered over the top of it, the whites of his eyes darkened by the shadow of his baseball cap.

“I need to see Joyce now.”

Annie hesitated, narrowing her eyes to study him. He was tall with a broad frame and a muscular build, but if she was pressed to give a detailed description to the police, she wouldn’t be able to manage more than “gray T-shirt and faded Levi blue jeans.”

“What do you want with her?”

The stranger dipped his head and grumbled, “It’s important.”

Annie tapped a pen on the top of her order pad for a moment before sauntering back to the office for her boss.

“A fellow at the end of the counter wants you,” she called. Joyce, a round woman well into retirement age, hoisted herself out of her desk chair and scurried past Annie to the dining room, trying to catch her breath along the way.

“Miles,” Annie whispered, slipping back to the kitchen’s order window. The young cook craned his bandana-covered head to see her. “Grab me a frying pan. There’s some weirdo out there asking for Joyce.”

“What’s he want with her?”

“I don’t know, but he’s acting dodgy.”

Miles raised a discerning eyebrow. “What do you wanna do?”

“Miles,” Annie said, holding out her hand. “Come on.”

“Annie Curtis, you’re gonna hit a guy with a frying pan?”

“No...” she said as her subconscious protested. “Maybe.”

Miles paused. “Seriously?”

“There’s something about him that’s very familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. Did a convict escape from the prison?”

“How would that be familiar?”

“Miles, sometimes you see a story on the news, but it doesn’t register in your consciousness until later.”

“You’re going to need more than a frying pan if there’s a convict sitting out there.”

“I don’t know if it’s a convict, Miles. That was just one theory. Something about him reminds me of...” Annie gasped and touched her fingertips to her lips.

“Oh.”

“Annie?” Miles’s eyebrows pinched together. “Are you okay?”

“Keep the pan on standby,” she muttered before scooting to the kitchen door and peeking out the porthole window. A cool sweat pricked every dainty hair down her neck as if someone had opened the door and let in a draft. It had been almost a dozen years since she’d waited anxiously on her mother’s back porch for that man to come for her, and now that he had finally returned home, he’d brushed her off. Sitting coolly behind the counter and hiding under the shadow of his cap, he was merely yards away and yet still so distant.

Annie watched Joyce spring into his arms and clutch him in a bear hug. His profile was an aged, heavier version than the boyish one she’d hopelessly spent hours admiring so many years ago. She had run her fingers along the scruff of his chin and nipped at his mischievously curled lips for an entire summer, back when she’d been young and careless. It had been the last summer of her youth, the last summer of innocence, the last summer before...

Annie drew a sharp breath and thrust open the kitchen door with a surge of adrenaline she didn’t yet know how to expel. Storming up behind the counter to size up the heartless cad who basked in his mother’s enthusiastic affection, she clenched her jaw and squared off in front of him. Joyce had quickly worked herself into a tizzy, clasping William’s face between her palms and shrieking with joy as patrons jumped in equal parts amusement and alarm.

“Baby boy, where have you been? I can hardly breathe. Look. Look! My hands are shaking.” Joyce turned to nearby patrons and announced for all to hear that her son was home from the Navy, and her prayers had finally been answered. Folks nodded and smiled politely, turning attention back to their Salisbury steaks and Reuben sandwiches.

“Did you decide?” Annie asked in a strained voice, attempting to interrupt Joyce’s hysterics.

“A coffee, please. Decaf, if you have it,” William said without casting his eyes in her direction. Annie scowled as he squeezed Joyce’s tear-stained face into his chest. He had a lot of nerve showing up with that easy grin plastered across his face. For a moment she imagined smacking it clear off him with the frying pan, tiny white teeth scattering to the ground like it happened in cartoons.

“William,” Joyce said, slightly releasing the death grip she had on him. She retrieved a tissue tucked between her bosom, dabbed her eyes and scowled up at him. “Dontcha recognize who this is?” William paused and studied Annie for a moment as she reciprocated with a cold glare. She had no desire to supply any word of help to the self-centered jerk. Joyce finally filled the awkward silence. “It’s Annie.”

Annie waited as recognition fell over William’s sun-kissed face. There had been a time when Joyce would have described her to William as “your Annie,” but those days had long passed. Though as she stood before him, memories thundering toward her like a freight train, she doubted they would be long buried.

“Annie Curtis?” he said, his smile fading to a wince. “H-how are you? I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Obviously,” she said, pouring his coffee with a jerk to splash it over the rim of his cup. “How long’s it been now?”

William faltered, raising the brim of his hat to reveal those pool-blue eyes in which she had once swum laps. They were the one thing that hadn’t aged a day and were still just as hypnotizing. If the rest of his weathered face blurred so all she could see were those eyes, she might as well be peering at the eighteen-year-old boy she’d once called “her William.”

Joyce hugged William again and pulled his face down for another smooch, snapping his gaze away and releasing Annie from the spell. Pressing her round nose against William’s, Joyce giggled.

“Oh, shucks, sweetie, I’m so excited to see you. I almost had a heart attack when I saw that face. Can you drop dead from pure happiness?”

Annie glanced up at the ceiling as she turned to place the coffeepot back onto its burner. The prodigal son appeared, and Joyce was itching to throw him a ticker tape parade. Between running the diner, worrying about losing business and...well...other problems, times had been hard on Joyce. Annie wanted to be happy for her friend. She wanted to make Joyce’s joy her joy, because she loved that old woman as much as she had loved her own mother. Instead, she flexed the muscles in her clenched jaw.

Perhaps Joyce was eager to forgive and forget, but Annie had a long memory and wasn’t about to pretend William Kauffman had done anything other than abandon his mother when she had needed him most. Besides, Joyce hadn’t been the only person William had bailed on; her own pride suddenly felt very tender and bruised, recalling the memory. She had stood there for hours and hours...

Joyce patted William on the arm. “Whatcha hungry for? You musta been eat’n junk on the road. Let me wrap some things up real quick while Miles fixes you anything you want. And when we get home we’ll celebrate with sometin’ fancy.”

“What’s good?” William asked, finally focusing on Annie as Joyce hurried to the back.

“Everything,” Annie said. She pursed her lips to bite back every scathing remark for William she’d dreamed up when she was crying into her pillow all those nights ago.

“I’ll have that,” he said with a smirk, flashing his baby blues at her. Annie mocked his reply under her breath as she strolled back into the kitchen to place the order.

“Egg salad on rye, Miles,” she called, strumming her fingers on the wall and shaking her head in disgust. Maybe William thought he could act the part and simply charm people into forgiving him, but she certainly wasn’t going to fall for it. She’d had one too many men fool her in the past to be made a fool of ever again, and he had been the first.

Miles leaned into view. “It’ll take me a few minutes to whip up a new batch of egg salad. The carton in there is past its peak.”

“Ripe, is it?”

“It needs to be tossed.”

“Even better,” Annie said with a shrug, walking to the refrigerator to fix the sandwich herself.

“I was listening for shouts of attack, you know,” Miles said, directing his attention to the grill. “Who was looking for Joyce?”

“Nobody worth mentioning.”

“So, you don’t need the frying pan?”

Annie’s mouth turned into a smile, though her eyes had darkened. “Nope. I’m taking care of it.” She scooped out a heaping portion of egg salad and flicked the spoon over a slice of bread with a plop. “Perfect,” she said before waltzing out to the dining room.

* * *

WILLIAM DEVOURED HIS SANDWICH, his ravenous appetite suddenly apparent as he sized up his old stomping ground. At first glance it had all the basic amenities of a greasy spoon: heavy white mugs with varying degrees of coffee stains; slices of pie displayed attractively in a countertop dessert case; and tables adorned with ketchup bottles, sugar packets and coffee creamer. But unfortunately it hadn’t changed much since he’d left, and the wear and tear, which had been noticeable years ago, was now grossly evident.

The tiny entryway was cluttered with empty vintage gumball machines he’d once kicked over as a kid. A large, opaque glass-globe light fixture hung awkwardly low at the entrance, caked with a heavy film of dust and dated 1960s’ appeal. The three perimeter walls of the long, narrow diner had large bay windows to catch the warm, cheery glow of the morning sun, but by nightfall, the fluorescent overhead lights, sterile and intrusive, made William shudder. He tried to ignore the childhood memory of being forced to work in the restaurant most evenings as his stepfather, Dennis, disapprovingly scrutinized his every move.

Elbows planted firmly on the counter, William distracted himself with the sight of Annie as she hustled in and out through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. With each push of the aluminum door, he caught a whiff of the sizzling, steaming engulfment of grease just beyond it. Even the momentary sniff of it made his stomach churn. That kitchen had seemed like a humid prison, caking his skin and hair in a grimy film. He took a swig of coffee and turned to inspect the dining room.

The scuffed sand-colored tabletops were still sandwiched between vertical vinyl booths of spruce green and chestnut. Most seats were torn, with faded spots where thousands of patrons had plopped their derrieres over the years. As Annie seated a couple in their fifties, William grimaced as he waited for the thwart sound the seat cushions always made. The couple crouched over to manipulate their bodies into the booth, and—thwart—their weight pushed the air out of the giant rips in the vinyl. He used to find it amusing as a kid, the sound playing into his adolescent sense of humor, but now it, along with all the other sights, was beginning to be too much.

William slowly swiveled his barstool, also grossly cracked and fading. Running his hand along the long L-shaped counter with a cream laminate and two-inch metal banding, he forced a few deep breaths. The counter still comfortably sat twelve people and provided a perch at the far end to view the entire diner and all its happenings.

It was from this perch William sipped his coffee and studied Annie as she served her customers, occasionally fidgeting with the waist of her apron whenever her eyes shifted his way. It wasn’t busy for a dinner rush, leaving her time to chat with patrons as she breezed by him, nose tilted ever so slightly in the air. By the time she slapped his bill on the counter, he concluded she had developed a serious attitude problem.

William’s inner monologue finally found his lips. “Refill on your coffee? Sure, sounds great, Annie. Thanks so much for offering,” he said. From across the countertop, she gritted her teeth and poured him another cup, stopping short at least an inch and a half from the rim. “A little more, thanks,” he told her with a sweet smile before glancing at the bill. “That’s awfully steep for a lousy sandwich and a pickle, don’t you think? Are you highballing me here?”

Annie shrugged and cleared his plate before he could finish his pickle or protest further. She was a far cry from the vivacious girl he had known in high school who had been hard to miss with her natural good looks and vibrant laugh. As she hustled back and forth behind the counter, the heavy polyester uniform couldn’t mask her thin frame and bony elbows, while her hair, tied up in a ratty knot, framed dark circles shadowed beneath her eyes.

“How long have you been working here?” he asked, eyeing her intently. He hadn’t been prepared to see her again, not after all this time. But as she scooted here and there, her eyes focused only on the task at hand, he found himself yearning for her to look at him. “I said, how long have you been—”

“I heard you.”

“Do you like it here?”

Her mouth twisted. “I suppose.”

“Don’t be too enthusiastic,” he said. “It’s only my mom’s place.”

Her chin jerked up. “What was that?”

“I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, Annie.”

A flush crept up her face as she stopped short in front of him. He braced himself, waiting for a reaction of any kind, even if it was an outburst. Anything had to be better than the silent treatment.

“Can I get you something else, sir?” she asked. William’s stomach lurched at the coldness in her voice. At how forced it was, as if she were straining for control.

“Grab me a water, would you?” he said, holding a fist to his mouth to try to calm his upset stomach. Seeing Annie had thrown him for a loop, that was for sure, but he never expected he would have such a physical reaction to it. “I’m feeling a bit queasy.”

Annie’s eyes slowly widened as William groaned and leaned heavily against the counter, tiny dots of perspiration percolating on his forehead.

“Oh,” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. “Oh, William.”

“What?” He motioned for the water. Annie slinked backward to fetch an ice water and crept closer again, hesitating before handing it to him.

“I’ve done something...” She winced. “Awful.”

“What?” William asked, although he wasn’t really listening. A wave of nausea propelled him to his feet.

“The restroom is over by the—”

“I know,” he gulped, racing to its sanctuary.

“I’m sorry!” Annie called after him, but he didn’t have time to wonder what she meant.

* * *

ANNIE HURRIED TO the kitchen, grabbed the carton of remaining egg salad and slammed it into the trash. She paced, or rather hid behind the kitchen door, periodically peeking out the porthole to see if William had ventured back out among the living. As each minute ticked by, her own stomach clenched tighter as if in a vise.

“Is everything okay, dear?”

Annie jumped at Joyce’s warm voice, homey and inviting like a crackling fire. Immediately, a pang of guilt slammed her. Joyce was her dearest friend, and she might have killed her only son. As much as she wanted to throw herself at Joyce’s feet and offer a dramatic confession, she decided it might be best not to mention what she’d done until all the facts shook themselves out in their own good time.

“William’s sick,” she blurted.

“Sick?” Joyce said, her face contorting into a mass of wrinkles in the blink of an eye.

“He’s been in the bathroom for a while now.”

Joyce scurried off as Annie found Miles staring at her.

“What?” she said, popping her hands to her hips like a hen rearing to peck.

“Annie Curtis,” Miles reprimanded her. “Do I even want to know why?”

“I’ll take the blame, Miles, so I’ll stop you right there,” Annie replied, sneaking a peek out the porthole window again.

“Joyce could lose her license.”

“Nah, he won’t call the health inspector on his own mother.”

“What about on you?”

Annie scrunched her face. “Don’t you have something to fry back there?” She furiously slammed the top of his order bell several times and shooed him back to the kitchen. “Order up, order up, order up, Miles.”

He shook his head. “Call me before you tell Joyce you poisoned her baby. I sure don’t want to miss that.”

Annie returned to the porthole window and heaved a sigh of relief when William finally emerged, though staggering and green.

She ventured out to the dining room. “Are you okay?” she asked him softly. William turned and glared at her, making her recoil slightly.

“Annie, what exactly did you mean before when you said you were sorry?”

Annie paused, grazing a finger over her lips as she scrambled for an explanation. She had yelled the words like a reflex, without thinking, without predicting the consequences. But now, as William’s eyes narrowed, she knew they were a tragic mistake.

She winced. “Hmm?”

A deep growl vibrated behind his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

“I pulled the car around to the front, dear,” Joyce said, hurrying over to them. “I can take you straight to the emergency room.”

William put a hand over his stomach. “Take me back to the house.”

“But you got sick so suddenly and so violently. They should check you over to find out what’s wrong. You’re dehydrated at the very least.”

William shot Annie a scowl. “I know what happened.”

Annie’s eyes pleaded with William to not give her away. She couldn’t bear to imagine the look of disappointment and hurt in Joyce’s eyes when she learned what Annie had done. It would be too awful.

“Was it something you ate here?” Joyce asked, turning to Annie to help supply the answer. As Annie clasped her hands in a prayer and was about to explain, William shook his head.

“You can’t trust sushi from a gas station, Mom.”

Annie’s mouth dropped open as Joyce took her son’s arm and patted it.

“Golly, no. It had probably been sitting out for days, William.”

William allowed his mother to squeeze him in a long hug, but his body was rigid, eyes boring holes into Annie. Several moments passed before he finally responded. “Something like that.”

“I’ll bet you won’t do that again,” Annie said, cringing, knowing full well she was pressing her luck. William huffed at her as Joyce led him to the door.

Perhaps their long-awaited reunion hadn’t gone completely as Annie would have predicted, but she took satisfaction in William Kauffman knowing where she stood.

CHAPTER TWO

ANNIE POKED HER head into her children’s shared bedroom as Marjorie, her neighbor, helped them fumble into pajamas.

A nurturing widow in her sixties, Marjorie had proved to be a reliable confidante and babysitter in recent years. While Annie was prone to overreaction, nothing ever seemed to rile serene Marjorie. Her auburn hair had peppered to white over the years, and her face, a road map of heavy wrinkles and lines, was radiant because of the loving expressions it constantly displayed. A transplant from Tennessee, she carried a Southern hospitality and charm. Between Joyce and Marjorie, Annie was certain her own mother was in heaven, sending surrogates to stand by her side.

“Are you okay, honey?” Marjorie asked in her sweet, charming lilt.

Annie managed a negligent shrug, the day hanging heavy around her neck as she leaned against the doorway.

Marjorie kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “We’ll have a cup of tea on it another time. They’ve been watching the clock, waiting for you. I’ll let myself out.”

Annie climbed onto her daughter’s bed and sighed with satisfaction. Despite all her failures over the course of her adult life, the two little people tumbling over themselves to embrace her were certainly not included in the list. They were the only reason that the last few years had been tolerable.

Betsy was an outspoken eight-year-old with a round, expressive face and big brown eyes like hers. She had a goofy expression to match any occasion and had certainly gotten herself into trouble by an inappropriately timed raised eyebrow. James, on the other hand, was as fair and gentle as a light summer rain. With storm-gray eyes and moppy brown hair, he moved delicately through the world, examining it from his owl perch before cautiously dipping in a toe and joining the action.

While they didn’t share a father, the two were thick as thieves, and Annie, who had no siblings of her own, took solace in the fact that what she couldn’t give them in extended family, she had made up for by giving them each other.

James, following Betsy’s flailing pantomime directions, selected a Rapunzel storybook from the cupboard and sandwiched himself between Annie and Betsy on his bed.

“Wasn’t it your turn to pick?” Annie asked as James snuggled into her side. He shrugged as Betsy yanked the book from his hands and flipped open the cover.

“I love this book so much,” Betsy said, shuddering with excitement.

Annie tucked a pillow behind her back and prepared to read Rapunzel for the hundredth time. “Why?”

Betsy tipped her head back against her pillow before replying with a whimsical look, “I love how the prince saves Rapunzel and carries her off to his palace.”

“That isn’t how life works, Bets.”

“I know. I know,” her daughter grumbled, aware she had heard this talk before. “But I still like this story the best, and I want to read it a hundred more times. A thousand more times!”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” Annie said. She pulled the covers over the three of them. “But I’ll read it once tonight.” As her children melted deeper against her, she understood the allure of getting lost in a little fantasy now and again, especially a romantic one. Her children didn’t need to be privy to the disappointing ways of the world yet. Unfortunately, that was her job.

* * *

WILLIAM THRUST OPEN the rickety shed door and stood back to admire how everything inside was still meticulously placed just as Dennis had left it. It was a clear indicator his mother had not been inside since Dennis’s death three years ago. As the early-morning sun filtered in from behind him, thousands of dust particles glittered and swirled around his first hesitant step. The air inside hung heavy and musty. With his eyes closed, the stale scent of cedar chips, rusted-out gas cans and motor oil wafted over him. It engulfed his nostrils with a nostalgia he had long tried to bury. Only one whiff and he was back to the day his life veered off course.

Right on the threshold of this shed, when William hadn’t had any proof that he was the true victim and not the violent juvenile Dennis had claimed, his stepfather had tried to have him arrested. For as many times as he had recalled the altercation, the details had slowly begun to fade. Perhaps it was a way to cope with his anger and soften the hard edges, but standing in the shed again, the details came back to him: the dueling sawhorses Dennis had made him sand until his fingertips were raw and bleeding; Dennis’s apple-red tool chest he’d once innocently scratched and paid hell for later; and the wooden pallet he’d punched a fist through minutes before the cops arrived and Dennis had falsely accused him of assault. It took all his restraint to not boot the nearest thing just for the satisfaction of hearing it shatter and break against the wall.

Heaving a sigh, he jerked the corner of a dust-covered drop cloth to reveal one of his teenage fantasies in all its chrome glory: the classic 1981 Indian motorcycle. Fully restored, practically fawned over daily by the old man, it was a thing of pure beauty. And now it was finally his.

He gingerly ran his fingers over the smooth cinnamon-colored paint that had inspired him to nickname the motorcycle Old Red. He carefully swung his leg over the leather seat and firmly gripped the handlebars. The bike had been sitting cold for several years in the harsh Lake Superior winters, so he drew a breath and hoped for the best.

He shifted the transmission to Neutral and carefully set his choke. After pulling in the clutch, he pressed the starter button and waited for the crackle of the engine to tear through every corner of the tiny shed.

Nothing.

William double-checked that his kill switch wasn’t set at Off and tried again, but the engine was silent.

Perfect.

“Call The Chinoodin Chronicle! Hell hath officially frozen over.”

A grin leaped to William’s face at the familiar voice. “How are you doing, man?” His buddy Brandon Rodriguez strode into the shed and embraced him in a bear hug. “How’d you know I was back?”

“Son, please. I know everything happening in this town.” Brandon slung his suit jacket over a chair and loosened his tie. He stopped short to admire the vintage bike. “Are you fixin’ up Old Red?”

“It looks like I have to. I can’t get it started.”

“I’d love to buy it off you, but the hours I work at the mayor’s office wouldn’t leave me enough time to make it worthwhile.”

“Are you at the mayor’s office now?”

“Two years in August,” Brandon replied, sitting back on a dusty sawhorse. “What are you doing in town?”

William shook his head. “Hard to say right now.”

Brandon nodded and held out a grocery bag. “A homecoming gift of sorts.”

William glanced in the bag. “Pabst Blue Ribbon beer?” He chuckled. “Are you still drinking that?”

“Nah. Only for you, man,” Brandon said. “Rocky’s was my first stop when I heard you were back. I had to help you stock the fridge. Have you been by the diner yet?”

“Unfortunately,” William said, his empty gut still raw from the restless night.

“Did you catch a glimpse of Annie?”

“I caught more than that.”

“She’s still a good-looking woman, eh?”

“Annie? Annie Curtis? Are you two...?” William couldn’t quite get the words out, but his meaning was clear.

“Oh, no. Annie’s great, but I’m already seeing someone. How long are you staying?”

“Just passing through.”

Brandon surveyed the shed. “Well, I know things ended on a sour note before.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Yeah, it sure is. It’s been a long time.” He focused on William. “If you’re interested, I could always put in a good word for you with Annie. Maybe help mend some of the...”

William waved off the idea immediately.

“Not worth my time or hers, Brandon.”

“Did you tell her you’re just passing through?”

William snorted. “Why would I? It’s none of her business. Besides, she wouldn’t be interested.”

“No?”

William angled his chin. “Am I missing something?”

Brandon looked confused just as the shed door swung wide with a loud creak.

“I thought I heard you out here.” Joyce carefully stepped inside before stopping short and studying the two men. “Back together again,” she mused. “My, oh, my, has it been a long time. Brandon, did you know William surprised me?”

Brandon waggled his eyebrows. “I can imagine.”

“I’m sure they heard me hollering with joy all the way in Munising.”

“It didn’t take him long to find that bike.”

Joyce rolled her eyes. “William, should I feel honored you at least came to see me first?”

William shrugged. “Who can say for certain that that’s what I did?” Joyce swatted him playfully on the arm as he grinned. “I had to make sure we were still on good terms. It needs more tender loving care than I’d hoped, though.”

“Don’t we all,” Joyce said. “We need to leave in ten minutes, Will. We can get coffee at the diner.”

“The diner?”

“Our shift begins in half an hour.” Joyce shuffled outside and headed to the house as William squeezed past the motorcycle and scratched his chin.

“Helping at the diner, eh?” Brandon said, collecting his suit jacket.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“What better things do you have to do?”

“Get this engine running for one.”

“Ah, there’s time.”

But that was exactly what William didn’t have much of and wanted to avoid—spending more time in Chinoodin Falls than he could afford.

* * *

ANNIE SPED INTO the diner. Her purse dangled from her wrist and a sweater was slung haphazardly over her shoulder as she swirled her hair into a messy bun. After calling hello to Joyce and playfully hip checking Karrin, her fellow waitress, on her scramble to begin her shift, she sprinted to the office. Beads of sweat were already perspiring on her lip when she stopped short at the sight of William carelessly rummaging through her desk as if he owned the place. The scene caught her so completely off guard, it took a moment for her to piece together a coherent sentence.

“What...what...what on earth do you think you’re doing?” she finally stammered, charging toward him and slamming her purse onto the desk. Her eyebrows shot up as she waited for an explanation, but William made no effort to answer her. He leaned comfortably back in her chair and a satisfied grin curled his lips. “That’s my desk, you know,” she pointed out.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ll tell you if you wouldn’t mind easing up a bit.”

“You tell me right now,” she commanded, her shadow darkening his handsomely chiseled jaw. She avoided looking directly into his eyes, hoping to avoid the mesmerizing pull of those blue pools. William stretched his hands, clasped them behind his head and leaned farther back in her chair.

“Seriously, Annie, I can practically see up your nose from this angle.”

Annie pursed her lips and looked around for the nearest thing to knock the easygoing smile off his face. She snatched the papers he was reading from the desk in one crinkled wad and smacked his shoulder with them.

In an instant, William was on his feet. “Hey. What’s the matter with you?”

“What are you snooping through?” She flipped through the papers with such speed, she couldn’t read or register what they were. The last few years she had tried her best to keep the paperwork for the diner organized—invoices, tax forms, payroll—but it was nearly impossible between working the floor and hurrying home to her children after each shift. As she eyed the evidence of her miserable bookkeeping abilities, it was his scent that finally made her turn her head. She caught her breath at its charming appeal and found William studying her. His gaze sending a series of tickles like butterfly kisses down her spine.

She didn’t know what was going on here, but she wasn’t going to stand around and twiddle her thumbs while he slowly pieced together an explanation. She could table this matter for later, after she had collected herself and put more distance between them. As she tossed the papers at him in a flurry, William sat back on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms.

“I was searching for your letter.”

“My letter?” she said with a sputter.

“Mmm-hmm. I know I missed your voice mail.”

“Voice mail?”

“Unless... Were you planning to apologize in person, Ms. Curtis?” William rubbed his stomach. “I was up all night, you know. It’s a wonder I didn’t have to go to the hospital after all.”

Annie scoffed. “I saw you when you left. You weren’t that sick.”

“No? Have you ever been poisoned before?”

“Are you accusing me of poisoning you?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Annie said, tipping her nose in the air on her way out of the office.

“What goes around comes around, Annie.”

“Remind yourself of that fact!” she called. Desperate for an outlet to funnel complicated feelings she’d ignored since she was seventeen years old, Annie attempted to start the coffee maker with a series of pointedly timed clangs and clanks. After a moment of telling it off in vulgarities muttered under her breath, she noticed a shadow behind her.

“Are you okay?” Miles was cautiously peeking from around the corner.

“I’m a little mad.”

He carefully pried a glass coffeepot from her whitened fingertips. “At my kitchen?”

“At you know who.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think revving yourself up on caffeine is gonna make things better?” Annie reluctantly smiled, snatching back the pot and shoving it into the coffee maker with a final clank. “You know, Annie, he seems like a decent guy. I talked to him earlier and...” Annie’s eyes narrowed as the husky college student hurriedly backpedaled. “I mean...he’s a total jerk, and I guess I don’t like him, eh?”

Annie jerked a nod of approval as she waited for the coffee to percolate.

“Too bad you can’t hide out in the kitchen with me today,” Miles suggested before chugging a soda.

“You know I’d love to, kid, but the farthest point from you know who happens to be the dining room.” Impatient for her jolt of caffeine, she stole a swig of Miles’s soda and rolled her eyes at the fact that that wasn’t nearly far enough.

* * *

WILLIAM GNAWED ON a piece of bacon while sizing things up from the end of the counter. Between observing the morning regulars and quietly recounting his youth slaving away in the diner, he had enough to occupy his attention. Though nothing was as fascinating as the way Annie Curtis could work the dining room. She carried food trays with ease and chatted to all like a long-lost friend. She winked at her regulars, anticipated their requests and bubbled with laughter until, that is, she had to walk within three yards of him. He had categorized himself as the black sheep over the years, depending on the situation, but Annie now helped him experience it at a more personal level.

“That’s it. Keep ignoring me,” he whispered under his breath. She’d marched past him into the kitchen, her face etched in a stern glare.

It was a figure at the entryway that finally drew his attention. A tall, hefty man with a commanding presence and pressed suit, who looked out of place in the small, folksy diner. William could feel the energy in the room shift as others followed the man’s arrogant saunter.

“Hello, Sean,” Joyce said. Her voice rang brittle with forced politeness.

William did a double take, recognizing the dressy brute as Sean Butler, a fellow Chinoodin High alumnus who had graduated a year ahead of him. He had been a smug jerk in high school, and judging by his demeanor, he hadn’t changed much except for putting on a few pounds and splurging on polished designer shoes.

Sean halted, his eyes on William. William calmly sipped his coffee and waited for Sean to lose interest in his presence. He generally didn’t engage others in conversation, choosing to keep to himself as much as possible. Besides, if he remembered correctly, Sean’s conversational skills were akin to a wrecking ball.

“Hey,” Sean grunted, screwing up his face to place William. “Chinoodin High?”

“A year behind you.”

“That’s right, that’s right. Heh. You’re Joyce’s son, eh?”

“Will.”

Sean leered at him. “I know who you are. You’re not moving back, are you?”

William had no desire to stay in Chinoodin Falls longer than the time it took to eat his breakfast, but the disgust in Sean’s voice rubbed him the wrong way.

“Hard to say.”

Sean snorted. “Why’s that?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Are you holding up the counter and weighing your options?”

“Do you need a second-by-second commentary, or can’t you fill in the blanks on your own?”

Sean jutted his chin before what sounded like a forced chuckle. “You’re a plethora of knowledge, ain’t ya?”

William took another sip of his coffee and turned his attention to what was behind the counter. He knew when he was being baited and couldn’t afford to lower himself to Sean Butler’s level. “So, it’s back from the Navy, is it? Are you gonna help your mother clean up this dump? Lord knows it needs it. I hate just being seen in this place.”

William was surprised Sean knew he had been in the Navy. Suddenly Annie burst through the swinging doors, a tray of breakfasts teetering in her hands. Sean straightened and lumbered toward her as she hurriedly passed out the plates before trying to slip around him.

“I’m in the middle of the morning rush, Sean. I’ll talk to you later,” she said before hustling into the kitchen, but Sean barreled through the kitchen doors after her like a pit bull fixated on a scrap of meat.

Joyce hovered nearby, wringing her hands fitfully. When her frightened eyes found William’s, his spine stiffened in alarm. A quick glance around the dining room proved that Joyce wasn’t the only one on edge with Sean’s arrival. The collective murmur of folks’ conversations had momentarily hushed. A few customers had put down their newspapers. Two women exchanged a worried glance. They were a herd of antelope at the watering hole, and a lion had just been seen on the savannah. They knew something he didn’t, and he hated surprises.

The seconds ticked by as he decided whether or not to investigate. He had no sooner mulled the thought over when Sean’s voice boomed from the kitchen, startling several customers and jarring William to his feet. He wasn’t sure what he’d find waiting for him on the other side of those doors, but he had every intention of finding out.

As he braced himself to throw his full weight against the swinging aluminum doors, Sean emerged with a snarl donning his upper lip. Being confronted with William, he stopped short, the two men mirroring each other’s expressions, standing toe to toe.

“Whoa. Call off your son, Joyce,” Sean finally spat without tearing his eyes from William.

“You’re the one hollering in there,” William said in a deep tone.

“True,” Sean replied in a hushed voice as he hoisted his belt higher on his waist. “The wife still needs to be told from time to time. You know how that goes, swabbie.”

William’s jaw tightened as Sean sauntered around him and stopped to grab a few mints on his way out the front door. The little wife? If Annie had married Sean Butler, it was no wonder she looked as harried and worried as she did. Losing a Miss Congeniality award was the very least of her problems if Sean had weaseled, or more likely bulldozed, his way into her life.

* * *

ANNIE HUNG BACK until she was sure Sean had left. She detested his unannounced visits. They were manipulative confrontations she worried would escalate into public scenes. Every so often, like clockwork, he’d fabricate an excuse about how she was doing a poor job mothering James just so he could come by and unleash verbal jabs in front of her friends and coworkers. But as much as she hated it, they were the witnesses she preferred. On occasion he had stumbled onto her porch steps, sweating whiskey sours and moaning profanities. Any humiliation she tolerated at work was better than scurrying the children off to hide in their bedrooms.

She knew Sean delighted in the power he wielded over her. He was James’s father, so she wanted to believe that underneath the verbal jabs, he loved the little guy, but she really couldn’t vouch for it with any certainty. Most days, James’s welfare was an excuse Sean used to make her life miserable.

Annie bit the inside of her cheek and refused to cry. It wouldn’t solve anything except make her eyes puffy and solicit questions from her friends. She held firmly to her mantra: no emotional breakdowns except in the shower.

After forcing a few deep, calming breaths, she smoothed the front of her dress and stepped out into the dining room with the resolve of a royal diplomat.

“Are you okay, honey?” Joyce whispered, looping an arm through hers.

Annie feigned a smile. “Of course.” But when she read pity in William’s gaze, a sinking pit in her stomach quaked open. Pity was something she absolutely could not take.

She’d had her fair share of it over the years. The pitiful stares after Julian ran out, leaving her pregnant with Betsy and practically destitute, still haunted her.

There had been a pity party disguised as a wedding reception when, out of pure desperation to provide for Betsy and herself, she had married Sean. Oh, how she had wanted to escape from the hall after Sean got drunk with his buddies and forgot her during their first dance.

She was still paying the price for those bad decisions, and she didn’t need anyone’s pity or judgment, especially William Kauffman’s. Perhaps if he hadn’t bailed on her in the first place, things would have been different somehow. But instead, here he was, standing in front of her as the aftershock of Sean’s visit rattled her.

“Are you okay?” His voice aimed to soothe, but Annie wouldn’t allow it. She paused, fiddling with her apron strings as William leaned closer, the heat from his strong build warming her skin, making goose bumps prickle up her neck.

“Never better,” she said.

“I heard the way he talked to you.”

“So?”

“Does he do that often?” Annie shrugged in dismissal, but he quickly continued. “You don’t deserve that, Annie.”

She met his gaze, ready to defy his pity, but found only grave concern instead. His center of gravity seemed to shift, and she thought he was about to reach out and touch her. How she had ached for him to touch her when it had been another man cozied up beside her in bed and all that truly comforted her was the memory of his gentleness.

Annie pulled away. “Unless you want to place another order, I have paying customers to see to. Excuse me.”

She breezed past him. She hated that she still longed for him to touch her. And she hated that he was witnessing how her life had fallen apart these last twelve years without him in it.

* * *

WILLIAM SLID A For Sale sign onto his dashboard in one swift movement. Once he sold his truck, he’d have enough money to gas up Old Red and head for the Pacific Northwest for the summer. Who knew where things would lead him after that? He’d travel on the wind, no ties to anyone, and decide next steps as opportunities arose.

“Are you selling your truck?” Joyce frowned at him, having just locked up the diner for the night. William nodded, opening the passenger door and helping her up into the cab. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I can’t drive a motorcycle and a truck at the same time.”

Joyce clutched her handbag on her lap and fiddled with the straps as William climbed into the driver’s seat.

“I don’t see why you can’t have both. There’s room in the garage and shed.”

He stalled before answering as Joyce’s eyes bored holes in the side of his face. She had assumed he was home to stay, and he knew he had to correct her. At some point. After firing up his Chevy, he offered a reply.

“I need to sell her while she’s still running.”

“On her last legs, is she?”

“Something like that,” he said, tuning the radio to a classic-rock station. Joyce nodded before yanking a handkerchief from her purse and hacking into it with such force, William nearly swerved off the road. “Ma, are you okay?”

Joyce attempted a nod as her cheeks swelled to a patchy rouge. With each gasp for breath between coughing fits, William was more alarmed, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the road.

After several agonizing seconds, she finally heaved a sigh, clutching her chest in relief. “Oh, goodness,” she breathed. “I’m glad that’s over. Don’t look so worried, sweetie. It comes and goes.”

“What exactly?” William said, resting his hand tenderly on her shoulder.

“It’s a little respiratory infection I’m still shaking. My immune system is building itself up again after my being sick last winter. I could do with a nap before dinner.” Joyce blotted her mouth with her handkerchief before carefully tucking it into her purse. She smiled reassuringly. “Really, honey, I’m fine.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“Of course, of course. My seasonal allergies aggravate it. Plus it’s been a long day.”

William finally eased back into his seat and put both hands on the wheel. “It was an interesting day.”

“How so?”

“Does Sean Butler come into the diner often?”

Joyce rolled her eyes. “Define often.”

“He hasn’t changed a lick since high school, you know.”

“Did you know him, dear?”

Bullies like Sean hardly went unnoticed in a school as small as Chinoodin High. “Unfortunately. How long have they been married?”

“They divorced three years ago, but he’s as awful an ex-husband as he was a husband.” William tensed, imagining Annie married to Sean Butler. He was a class-A creep. “Annie’s had a rough time of it,” Joyce continued, tilting her head back to rest.

“Why? What’s happened?” William frowned. A soft hum vibrated behind Joyce’s cute smile as she lovingly patted his leg. “What?” he blurted, shoulders jerking in defense.

“Some things don’t fade with time, I suppose.”

“Never mind,” he said, turning up the radio volume. The less he knew about Annie and her troubles, the better. She’d be a dot in his rearview mirror in a matter of days anyway.

CHAPTER THREE

SITTING ON HER porch steps, Annie wrapped her arms around herself. Summer evenings like this one reminded her of her youth, riding her bicycle around the neighborhood and down to the lake. She hadn’t had a care in the world back then except a scolding and a cold dinner if she didn’t get home before dark.

But as she admired James tenderly coaxing a caterpillar onto his hand, she regretted that he had bigger problems at the tender age of six than she had ever had.

“Look, Betsy,” he said, carefully crouching closer to his sister, his eyes fixated on his prize. “He was on the flowers.”

“Can I hold him?” she said, examining his discovery. “We can build him a little house or bed out of these sticks.”

Annie knew they could be a happy little family if they could just get away, but the informal arrangement with Sean kept her from pressing her luck. He was content to let her have sole custody of James and she didn’t want to jeopardize that. Besides, it would be difficult to leave good friends. They were the closest thing to family she and the children had.

Although she had just glanced at the clock on her phone, she obsessively checked it again. Each minute dragged them that much closer to Sean’s arrival. His visits were better than sharing a home, but their arrangement was far from great for her and the children.

She closed her eyes briefly when she heard Sean’s BMW roll up the street. He swung wide into the driveway and sat for a minute, letting the car idle while issuing orders at someone on the other end of his cell phone. Annie was not in the mood to draw out their exchange any longer than necessary, but each second he spent on the phone was one less second he had with James.

The children, having spotted Sean’s car racing from down the block, had fled behind the shrubs along the side of the house. The tips of their visible sneakers the only giveaway of their position.

“The movie starts in a few minutes. Where is he?” Sean asked, finally emerging from the car.

“James!” Annie called. “Your father is waiting!”

Sean sneered. “Is he hiding again?”

“He doesn’t want to go,” Betsy said, stepping out from behind the shrubs, a hand propped on each hip. “He doesn’t feel good.”

“Ugh, come on! I don’t have time for this.” Sean clipped his phone to his hip and charged toward the bushes.

“Wait, Sean,” Annie said, jogging to intercept him. “Give me a second first.” Hurrying past him and around the shrubs, she knelt in front of James. His big gray eyes peered up at her, pleading to be left alone. Annie’s heart sank as she stroked a wisp of hair off his face and summoned the most pleasant voice she could muster. “Your father is going to take you to a movie, and then he’ll bring you straight home.”

“I don’t wanna go.”

“He’ll probably buy you a popcorn,” Annie reminded him, but James shook his head. “I know you want to stay here, kiddo, but your dad really wants to spend time with you. You’ll be home before you know it. We’ll stay up later than usual tonight, so we can squeeze in a few books before bed, okay?”

Betsy wrapped him in a hug and placed a white pebble in his hand.

“Here, James. This lucky stone will make you brave.”

“Don’t you want candy?” Sean yelled impatiently from the driveway.

Annie gently took James’s small hand and led him out from behind the bush.

“Are you hungry?” Sean asked, grasping James. The little boy attempted to slink away from his father’s firm grasp. “Well, are ya or aren’t ya?” Sean demanded.

“He just ate dinner, but perhaps a treat at the movie would be nice,” Annie said, kneeling to hug James and kiss him sweetly on the ear. It was all she could do to refrain from scooping him up in her arms, running into the house and locking the door behind her.

“We’re going to have to fly to make it there on time. Those dinosaurs start fighting in ten minutes.”

“Wait,” Annie said as James buckled himself into the back seat. “I thought you were going to see a cartoon.”

“Cartoons are for wussies, right, kid?”

“Nothing scary, Sean. He’s only six.”

Sean gave Annie the once-over. “Maybe I should take you out instead, huh? I kind of regret letting you get away when you still look like that.”

“Stop it, Sean,” Annie warned, clutching Betsy against her side. Sean squinted down at the little girl.

“You can’t go ’cause you’re not invited,” he taunted in singsong. Betsy scowled up at him, her fierceness impressive for a girl her age. “Nice attitude you have there, princess. You’re taking after your mother in that department, I’m sorry to see.” He strolled back to the car, flipping sunglasses down onto his face. “Rude little brats like you don’t get popcorn and candy.”

“I wouldn’t want to go even if he invited me,” Betsy told her. “But I’d go to be with James.”

“I know, baby,” Annie replied, squeezing Betsy without tearing her eyes from the top of James’s head slunk in the back seat.

Sean would never physically endanger James, but she knew how easily a mean-spirited man could wound a tender little heart.

* * *

WILLIAM PERKED UP at the sound of voices. Because the diner closed early on Friday nights, he thought he’d have the place to himself to scavenge the fridge after spending the afternoon working on Old Red. Poking his head through the swinging doors, he discovered Annie and a pint-size replica in the dining room.

Annie’s head shot up as he drifted toward their table. He knew he was a sight, still covered in motor oil and grime, but Annie’s frown appeared more intense than usual as she crossed her arms over her chest and glowered. The little girl sitting across from her shoveled a large forkful of chocolate cake into her mouth and stuck her hand out when William introduced himself. He instantly decided he liked Betsy, chocolatey grin and all.

“What are you doing here tonight?” he asked, sliding into the booth next to Betsy as Annie had made no effort to accommodate him.

“Why?” Annie asked suspiciously.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. The place is closed, and I didn’t know you had a key.”

“Of course I have a key,” she said. “Who do you think has been opening and closing around here for the past few years?” William leaned back defensively. He knew his reaction registered when Annie paused, took a deep breath and started again. “We had a craving for cake.”

“We needed to get out of the house for a little while,” Betsy clarified, grinning up at him.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. Annie nodded before pressing a glass of milk to her lips and taking a sip, but she was far from convincing.

“Mom says we need to drown our sorrows in chocolate cake.”

“Cake is good for that,” he said without breaking his gaze from Annie. Something big was weighing on her, and although he knew he wasn’t her favorite person, he felt inclined to help.

“For my birthday I want a giant pink cake with hearts all over it. What’s your favorite kind of cake, William?” Betsy scooted onto her knees to peer up at him. Her chocolatey breath and puppy-dog eyes were so endearing, and so innocently invading his personal space, William couldn’t help but grin before answering.

“Chocolate, I suppose.”

“With icing?”

“Yes.”

“And sprinkles?”

“Sure.”

“And candy?”

“Betsy...” Annie said, her voice low and strained. Betsy sat back on her heels and eyed her mother for any indication she was in trouble. When Annie winked at her, she immediately relaxed and returned to her chocolate cake. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, William,” Annie said.

William nodded as Annie quickly slid out of the booth, her eyes already reddened with tears. She ducked into the ladies’ restroom, and he turned his attention to his chatty companion. She was a lively child. The joy she drew from a single slice of chocolate cake, her eyes goggling with excitement with each sugary lick, made him hard-pressed to recall the last time he had enjoyed one of life’s simple pleasures with such gusto.

“Betsy, how are you doing?”

She considered this. “Happy and sad,” she said.

“Why?”

“Happy I get to eat cake, but sad James isn’t here.”

“Is James your brother?”

She nodded solemnly. “We get sad when James has to go with his dad.”

“Oh.”

“We want him to stay with us all the time.”

“How old is James?”

“He’s six, and I’m eight.”

“So you’re the big sister, huh?”

Betsy beamed with pride. “I protect him when mom argues with Sean. She says I’m going to be a good mommy one day.”

“I’ll bet you will be.” The stress in Annie’s home became clear. Sending your child off with the likes of Sean Butler would put anyone in a bad mood. “What’s up, kid?” he asked as Betsy had hesitated. She had all but finished a couple bites of cake.

“Maybe mom wants the last of it,” she said, hovering her fork over the shared plate.

“Nah. I think you should finish it off, and we’ll get her a fresh piece.”

Betsy’s eyes brightened with delight. “Good idea, William!”

William stood and lingered near the table, waiting for the little girl to lick the plate clean.

“We’re getting you a fresh slice,” he told Annie, who’d marched out of the bathroom.

“No, thank you,” she replied, motioning for Betsy to join her. The little girl hustled out of the booth to stand beside her mother.

“Okay,” William redirected. “How about a drive down to the lake, then? I thought I’d cruise around the peninsula if you’d like to join me.”

Annie vigorously shook her head and put her hand on Betsy’s shoulder to silence the little girl’s enthusiastic squeal of approval.

“We have to get back.”

“But mom, couldn’t we, please?” Her mother shot her a stern look as a final warning.

“Another time.” William winked at Betsy, escorting them to the entrance. As he exited ahead of them and held open the door, he could feel Annie hesitate.

“Thank you,” she said, briskly scooting by him.

“Thank you,” Betsy echoed cheerfully.

“Annie,” William called. She turned as Betsy bounded ahead of her to the car. “Is there anything I can do for you? For the both of you?”

Annie seemed to scrutinize his words.

“Why?”

“You seem like you’ve got the world on your shoulders.”

Her face fell. She studied him for a few moments, her wide brown eyes drawing him further in with each slow blink. She was guarded from what he assumed was a direct result of years spent with Sean. And while he knew he shouldn’t care, seeing her again made him feel like a hint of the man he’d been in high school. A man he had long forgotten.

As he moved closer, she shook her head and turned to her car. Her quick dismissal reminded him that a lot of time had passed and that she’d most likely forgotten the man he once was, too. Still, before he left Chinoodin Falls, he’d need some assurance that she was going to be okay.

* * *

ANNIE JOGGED THROUGH the back door of the diner and snatched her apron just as Mia, a fellow waitress with a spirited disposition, handed her a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, M,” she breathed between gulps. “I feel like I’m always running from one thing to the next.”

“How’s the little guy?” Mia asked, her clumpy mascara-coated lashes batting with concern.

“I can’t tell if he really has a tummy ache or if it’s anxiety.”

“Girl, your ex-husband gives me a tummy ache. I covered your tables.”

Annie softened in appreciation as she caught her breath. She’d taken James to the doctor for the first appointment of the day before dropping him at school. His temperature was a little above normal, but the doctor believed he was fine. It was nearly summer, and not wanting him to miss end-of-the-year festivities, she’d said goodbye to him with an extra hug and kiss.

She and Sean had argued the night before, as per usual, and she knew James internalized it. He had zero control in a stressful relationship with his father, so a sudden tummy ache probably had more to do with his emotional health than physical. She couldn’t blame him. She felt like she couldn’t fix things either, and she was an adult.

“How’s my favorite lady?” Miles called from the kitchen.

“I can hear you, you know!” Mia said, her bottom lip turning down in a pout.

“Mia,” Miles said, poking his head around the corner. “You know I have nothing but love for you, but my heart will always belong to Annie. What can I make you?”

“I’ll stick with coffee.”

Mia pointed at Annie’s waist. “You need some sustenance, A. Miles, scramble her some eggs.”

“Coming right up!”

Annie scrunched up her face. “I can’t eat right now, Mia.”

“You have to eat something good. I can’t have you skinnier than me on my wedding day.”

“What I need is to drop two hundred pounds of ex-husband.”

“Maybe he’ll get amnesia.”

Annie laughed. “A girl can dream,” she said, but her face fell once she spotted William sitting at the end of the counter. She had mulled over his comment from the other night, trying to decipher what it meant. Is there anything I can do for you? He’d had some nerve telling her he loved her, running out on her without any explanation and then showing up more than a decade later as if she hadn’t meant anything to him in the first place. Now he wanted to know if there was anything he could do for her? He was too late.

She greeted the Old Timers, a name she’d coined for a group of retired men who were her favorite regular customers. All born and raised in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, their friendly banter was as charming as their thick, Fargo-sounding accents. Heavily reminiscent of the Finnish and German influence on the area, some native speakers sounded like they were conversing in another language once they really got going. But Annie had lived in the Upper Peninsula since she was a child, so deciphering was old hat.

“Dare she is!” Joe declared, slapping the table. “How ya doin’ now, Annie?” With his sparkling blue eyes and puffy red nose, he could have walked straight out of a quaint, small-town pub.

Danny winked at her, fluffy white eyebrows fluttering above large, thick glasses. “Mia had to bring us our coffee, and she don’t pour it right, dontcha know.”

Annie smiled and pulled out her order pad. “Are you eating this morning or just shooting the breeze and holding my tables hostage?”

Joe pointed a calloused finger at her. “Now don’t start! I need a refill on my coffee first.”

Annie tapped her pen on the table in feigned anger. “I’m never gonna retire if you only order coffee, Joe.”

He took a sip and peered at her over the top of his cup. “But it’s such good coffee.”

“I brew it myself.” She winked before turning to the others. “How about you, Earl? Do you want the Early Riser breakfast, like usual?”

Earl flipped the corner of his newspaper down to contemplate her suggestion. He’d ordered the same breakfast every day for three years. He purchased The Chinoodin Chronicle newspaper and read it cover to cover at the table every morning. And even if the temperature reached eighty degrees, he’d worn the same red Kromer hat with fleece-lined flannel and earflaps. His eyes darted around the room before he flipped the corner of his paper back up, shielding his face. “Yah,” he answered in his usual gruff way.

The Old Timers had been coming into the diner occasionally long before Annie had started working there. But when Dennis passed away and Annie began full-time, as Karrin told it, the Old Timers quickly took notice. They had begun arriving every morning since like clockwork.

Annie hustled to grab the coffeepot, aware that William’s eyes were following her.

“Good morning, Annie,” he said, his voice soft and easy like a swaying oak. She nodded curtly before returning to the Old Timers. The ones without coffee flipped over their cups, but kept right on talking about the newcomer.

“What’s his story?” Joe asked. Annie caught William’s eye. His look deepened from over the top of his coffee mug, making her nerves tingle.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she said, turning back to Joe. “He’s Joyce’s son.”

“Is he single?”

“Why, Joe? Are you interested?”

“You’re really in a mood today, ain’t ya, Annie?” Joe said. “He’s a good-lookin’ kid is all.”

“Kid? He’s my age.” She scoffed.

“You’re still a kid, you know.”

“Joe, I haven’t been a kid in ages.”

“Bah, I’d snap you up if I were forty years younger.”

Danny piped up. “If only I were thirty years younger, Annie. Do you like older men?”

She huffed. “Men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“I take offense to that,” Joe added playfully.

“You would!” Annie didn’t feel young enough to even consider dating again. She had had her fair share of worries over recent years to zap her youthful glow and energy for any kind of social life. Maybe someday, when she was older and wiser, she’d meet someone sweet like Danny or Joe. They were good guys, although she’d had three years of daily interaction to vet them.

“So, like I said,” Joe continued. “He’s a good-lookin’ kid, Annie.”

“He’s not my type.”

Danny howled. “Ya? You go for the ugly fellows, eh?”

She grinned. “Really ugly is more like it.”

William was still handsome, though she’d never admit it to anyone other than herself. He’d traded his boyish looks for the mature face of a man. His voice had deepened to a husky bravado, except for the other night, when it had drawn her in with its warm gentleness. But it was his gaze that sent her heart skipping. Those eyes had remained unchanged. They’d studied her the other night in the parking lot, admired her with such a fierceness, her knees had nearly buckled. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have a man see her, truly see her, and want to know her. She’d had no choice but to hurry off. It took every ounce of her being to glue herself together every day and get by for the sake of her children. But the way he had looked at her that night and the way his eyes followed her now...

Annie took down an order for another pair of customers before whisking behind the counter to fill two sodas. She angled her chin, aware William had been waiting for her to make eye contact.

“How’s Betsy?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“She’s a great kid. You should be really proud.”

“I am.”

William searched her face. “I got a kick out of talking to her. She’s spunky.”

“Spunky?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“She is. She reminds me of you when we were in high school.”

Annie paused, waiting for more explanation. “Is that how you remember me, William? Spunky?”

“I remember a lot, actually,” William said, stifling a grin as he sipped his coffee.

“Well, I don’t.” She turned for the kitchen. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was flirting with her. She slapped the bell at the pass-through window and rattled off an order for Miles.

“Cluck and grunt and a dry stack! Times two!”

Mia bustled in behind her. “Scrape two, burn the British, Miles!” Miles nodded, cracking eggs in a fury. “Karrin and I are going out tonight if you want to join, Annie?”

“Thanks, sweetie, but I can’t.”

“You need some fun, girl. I know you’ve got your troubles, but if you don’t blow off a little steam, you’re gonna lose it.”

“I can’t afford to lose it, Mia. I have Betsy and James to think about.”

“I know, I know. You’re a good mama, but an hour of gossiping can’t hurt.”

Annie knew she was right, but when she got off work all she wanted to do was get home to James and Betsy. Perhaps she just wasn’t as spunky as she used to be.

As she faced the dining room, she noticed Joyce and realized she wasn’t the only one who’d spotted her boss.

“Mornin’, Joyce,” Earl said gruffly, tucking away his newspaper and tipping his Kromer hat. Joyce fluttered her fingers in a delicate wave. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Earl asked.

“Yes, it certainly is. How’s your coffee today, Earl?”

“Very good, very good,” he said as Danny and Joe nodded in agreement. “Yous have the best coffee in town, Joyce.”

“Do we now?”

“Didn’t ya know that, Joyce?”

Her peachy cheeks rounded with amusement. “Yes, Earl, you tell me all the time.”

After seating new customers, Annie slipped behind the counter to collect the coffeepot and William’s sour disapproval.

“Who’s that?” William said, motioning with a thumb toward Earl.

“He’s been coming in for a while.”

“All of them?”

“Yep.”

“Anything to do with my mom?”

“Probably. She’s a good-looking woman, you know.”

“Annie, that’s my mom you’re talking about.” William eyed Earl.

“So?”

“She’s too old to flirt like that.”

“She’s talking to her friends.”

“Hmm? I’m not sure that’s...”

Annie scowled. “You’re impossible. What are you doing here anyway?”

William leaned back on his stool. “Aren’t I allowed to visit my mom?”

“It’s been twelve years, so yeah, I’d say she was due a visit.”

“What’s the matter with you, Annie? You’ve been on my case since I showed up.”

Annie grumbled something under her breath as she reached for the coffeepot. William jostled his cup on the counter toward her with a playful tinkering.

“I’ll take a refill while you’ve got it.”

She paused in front of him as his eyes scanned hers.

“You’re not in my section,” she said before strutting away.

* * *

WILLIAM STEPPED OUT onto the curb in front of Pop’s Place and raised his arms above his head in a deep stretch. As he released a breath, he imagined what life would be like locked away from the simple pleasures nature had to offer: the late-morning sun warming his face, the cool lake air filling his lungs, a tasty sausage casserole expanding his gut. He knew the lumberjack special wasn’t one of nature’s finest breakfast offerings, but it satisfied him all the same.

The forecast called for sunny, mild days ahead, which was perfect weather for the first leg of a long road trip. If he wanted to be gone by then, he needed to get the bike running by the end of the day and tell his mother he was leaving.

As he was about to cross the street, he noticed a little boy sitting alone on a bench alongside Pop’s Place. A sweet, timid-looking child with sandy-brown hair and gray eyes slumped his shoulders heavily as he stared at dangling feet. William scanned the area, but without an adult in sight, he strolled over to the little guy and eased down beside him.

“Hey, buddy. Are you okay?”

The little boy hugged himself tightly and shook his head in a resounding no.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“I got sick in the car.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“Inside.”

“Do you want me to take you in there?”

The little boy nodded, still clutching his side.

“What’s wrong with your stomach?”

“It hurts really bad,” he peeped.

William gently held his hand to the little boy’s side. “Right here?” he asked, inspecting the boy intently. Just as the child’s face screwed up in a hearty cry, William scooped the boy up into the crook of his arm and carried him into Pop’s Place.

He knew it was generally a bad idea to have a stranger pick up a child, but leaving the boy seemed like a worse idea. William searched the diner for any woman fitting the mother description. As it turned out, he didn’t have to search for long.

“James!” Annie called, racing from around the counter. She stroked James’s hair back from his face with frantic concern. “How on earth did you get here?”

“I found him outside,” William explained. “I think he has appendicitis, Annie. We need to get him to the hospital immediately.”

“Does it hurt, sweetie? This is all my fault.” Her voice trembled as she gingerly put her hands on James. “I didn’t think he was really that sick.”

“James!” a voice boomed. Sean was on the threshold, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his elbows, tie loosened around his neck. “I told you to sit your butt on that bench!”

“We have to get him to a hospital, Sean,” Annie explained as Joyce brought her her purse. She tore off her apron before accepting James from William’s arms, struggling with all her might to hold the clinging child.

“Hospital?” Sean scoffed. “He just yakked in my luxury sedan. If you had answered your cell phone, the school wouldn’t have had to call me. I had to leave a deposition early. Do you know how that makes me look?”

“He’s sick, Sean,” she said in a quavering voice.

“I’ll drive you,” William offered, shuffling Annie and James past Sean and out the front door. “My truck is right here. We can put James in the middle. Hang in there, buddy.”

Out on the sidewalk, Annie’s eyes pleaded with him in a way that made him ready to charge into battle. “He’s so hot, William. He’s so hot.”

“We’ll get you fixed up in no time, James. It’ll be okay, Annie. We’ll get him there in no time. Do you think—”

“Who the heck do you think you are?” Sean said, racing up behind them and shoving William aside. Sean steered Annie and James toward his BMW that was parked on the curb. William straightened his shoulders and aligned his jaw at the sight.

He knew it wasn’t the time or place to remind Sean of proper etiquette. All that mattered was getting James to the hospital as quickly as possible. But he certainly wouldn’t be forgetting Sean’s shove anytime soon. “Get in the car, Annie,” Sean directed, beeping the doors unlocked.

Annie carefully eased James into the back seat and snuggled in beside him, guiding his head to rest against her chest. William kept watch from the sidewalk, a twinge of helplessness tightening in his gut. As Sean flipped his sunglasses on, threw the car into gear and peeled away, Annie mouthed something through the window to him. He couldn’t be sure, as the late-morning sun had cleared the rooftops, making him squint to see. But as the car disappeared in a flash, he would have sworn it was thank you.

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