Making His Way Home. Kathryn Springer
Merrick again.
“So you came back for the weekend?” He rested a tanned forearm on the side of the wagon. “Or do you spend your summers here?”
“I don’t know what you...” The air emptied out of Grace’s lungs, making it impossible to finish the thought.
Cole assumed she’d returned for the celebration.
But why wouldn’t he? She’d confided in him that summer. Trusted him with her dreams.
With her heart.
“I’m not visiting. I live here.”
“In Mirror Lake?” Cole struggled to hide his surprise. As far as he knew, Grace had never planned to make the town her permanent home.
“That’s right.” She wedged the toe of her cowboy boot inside the spoke of the wagon wheel and swung onto the seat before Cole could offer his assistance. “My parents moved to Boston to be closer to my sister, Ruth, and her family a few years ago. They bring my two nephews back for a visit every summer.
“Mom claims it’s to give the boys a taste of country living, but she pulls weeds in the flower beds all day and Dad cuts enough firewood to last all winter. I think they’re the ones who need to spend some time in the outdoors.”
So, not only had Grace made Mirror Lake her home, but she still lived next door.
Had she fallen in love with one of the locals and decided to stay? Cole’s gaze dropped to her left hand. No wedding band or engagement ring.
He couldn’t believe it. Were all the men in town blind, deaf and dumb? Or just dumb?
“Why did you decide to stay?” Cole couldn’t prevent the words from slipping out.
“I love it here.”
Was it his imagination, or had she placed a slight emphasis on the word “I”?
“What do you do? For a living?” Cole knew the sluggish economy had hit the northern Wisconsin counties particularly hard, but Mirror Lake had been struggling for years. He figured the only thing that had kept the town going was an equal mix of love and loyalty, along with a generous dash of stubbornness, in the hearts of the people who called it home.
“I’m a social worker.”
That surprised Cole, too. “I thought for sure you’d be teaching English Lit at some fancy prep school.”
Grace looked away. “Plans change.”
Cole couldn’t argue with that. And sometimes they were simply put on hold, waiting for the right opportunity.
“It was nice of you to let us add the cabin to our tour,” Grace said after a moment, so politely that once again, Cole was reminded that she’d changed, too. “Kate asked me to stop over tonight and make sure there were no safety issues.”
Cole glanced at the cabin. The sun had dissolved into a strip of clouds on the horizon and shadows funneled through the trees and crept into the yard, shrouding the small structure in darkness. “Are there? I haven’t had a chance to look around yet.”
“The grass is pretty tall, but I didn’t see anything that could cause an injury. And the cabin appears sound.”
“No...snakes?” He tried to suppress a shudder.
“No snakes.” Grace’s unexpected smile, the first genuine one he’d seen, sent Cole’s heart crashing against his rib cage.
She was obviously remembering the afternoon they’d explored the tiny cabin and disturbed a pine snake dozing in an old chair. Cole had mistaken it for a coil of rope—until he swept it onto the floor. The thing had glided over his feet on its way to find another hiding place, but Cole had beat it to the door, leaving Grace behind in tears.
Because she’d been laughing so hard.
Truth be told, Cole was beginning to remember a lot of things about the summer he’d met Grace.
But it was the future he needed to focus on.
After he’d discovered Kate’s letter—misfiled in a desk drawer, thanks to Bettina, his absentminded younger sister—Cole had contacted Sullivan and Sullivan, the only law office in Mirror Lake. Not only had the attorney recognized his name, but he’d also claimed he had a copy of Sloan’s will and a key to the house—for Cole.
Until that moment, Cole hadn’t truly believed his grandfather had left him an inheritance. He’d assumed the house and land, along with all of Sloan’s personal possessions, had gone up for sale after his death.
Shaken, Cole had asked the lawyer why he hadn’t been told about his grandfather’s wishes. Sullivan had hemmed and hawed a bit before explaining that Sloan had set a condition—that Cole not be told about the property unless he returned to Mirror Lake on his own.
Cole didn’t believe in coincidences, but he did believe in divine intervention.
This is your time, his secretary, Iola, had said right before Cole had left for Mirror Lake.
His time hadn’t been his own since he was seventeen. But now that his mother had remarried and his younger siblings were starting their own lives, maybe he could finally believe it was true.
And all he had to do to make his dream a reality was to sell the piece of land that had been in the Merrick family for five generations.
* * *
“I’m sorry, but Sully won’t be back in the office until Monday.”
Cole stared at the receptionist—and apparently the other half of Sullivan and Sullivan—in disbelief. Candy Sullivan, a bleach blonde in her mid-fifties, had pointed to a chair by the window when he’d walked into the law office. Then she’d spent the next fifteen minutes chatting on the phone while she painted each fingernail a shade of red that matched the fire hydrant on the curb outside.
Fortunately, her conversation had come to an end about sixty seconds before Cole’s patience.
“I picked up the key from Mr. Sullivan when I got into town yesterday. He didn’t say anything about going away for the weekend.”
“Yesterday Sully didn’t know that Mayor Dodd was going to ask him to judge the square dance competition.” Candy pursed her lips and blew a stream of air on her pinky finger. “He needs a few hours to get ready, so he skipped out early. Matilda Fletcher, she’s the head of the historical society, found him the cutest pair of red suspenders—”
“You mean he’s still in town?”
Penciled-in eyebrows hitched together like boxcars over the narrow track of Candy’s nose. “Where else would he be, honey? A town only turns one hundred and twenty-five years old...” A brief pause. “Once.”
Cole pulled in a breath and held it, trying to cap off his rising frustration. He’d promised Iola he would be back by the end of the day.
His secretary’s husband, Virgil, had taken Cole’s place in the cockpit for the flying lessons Cole had scheduled, but he preferred to be on the ground now, taking care of the shop. A job that had belonged to Cole before he’d bought out the business from Cap Hudson, the flight school’s previous owner.
“Do you know where I can find him?”
“He’s probably at the park right about now. I have to get over there myself.” Candy dropped the tiny brush back into the bottle and aimed a pointed look at the clock.
“You wouldn’t happen to know the name of a local Realtor, would you?”
“There’s only one. Sissy Perkins.”
“Where is her office located?”
“A block off Main. Right behind the bank.”
“Thanks—”
“But Sissy isn’t working today, either.”