sat for a moment with the windows still rolled down and the engine off. A genuine night owl hooted as she climbed out of her car. The sound slid around and through her, leaving her strangely restless.
This was supposed to be the most triumphant moment of her life. Opening night of her own restaurant, after all these years, an evening she had shared with nearly all of those she loved most in the world, all but the twins, Lila and Rose.
Opening night had gone better than she could have dreamed, even with the inevitable kitchen dramas. For starters, she had ordered too few napkins from the linen service. They had ended up—horrors!—having to use paper for the last four tabletops.
And then her two sous-chefs had almost come to blows over a mushroom soup that had charred on the bottom.
To top it all off, one of the servers had chosen that very afternoon, of all possible days, to break up with a troublesome boyfriend and had consequently spent the evening alternating between tears and a giddy relief.
Despite everything, she knew the evening had gone well. The rave reviews alone weren’t enough to convince her. Her family and friends loved her and probably would have raved if she had served them up mac and cheese from a box.
But she had worked in enough fine restaurants to pick up the vibe when diners were very happy with what they were eating.
Judging by the reaction, she sensed Brazen was on its way.
Where was the huge burst of joy she had expected? Expected and earned, damn it. She had just conquered a summit she had been struggling toward for most of her adult life. She should be euphoric, effervescent. Instead, she felt...oddly deflated.
She let herself into the house, expecting for an instant to be greeted by a slavering, enthusiastic dog, until she remembered she had dropped Leo off to stay with Claire and Riley for the weekend because of her hectic schedule.
Her house seemed to echo with a vast emptiness. She told herself that was the reason she felt so unsettled. She had become used to the dog these past few weeks and didn’t quite know now what to do without him.
She had worked hard for the restaurant, just as she had worked hard to make this place her home.
She was happy and content—though she had a feeling people who were truly happy and content didn’t have to try so hard to convince themselves of it.
Though she hadn’t had time for dinner, she couldn’t bear the thought of food right now. A glass of wine, maybe, to celebrate. She found a bottle in the back of the refrigerator and pulled out a wineglass from the cabinet.
She poured a small amount and then on impulse headed for the door leading to her small backyard and patio. She could sit on the back step in the moonlight and listen to the rippling water of Currant Creek and toast herself for a job well done.
She decided the moon offered enough illumination so she opened the door without turning on the outside lights.
Her mind on the long day at the restaurant and all the preparation she needed to do for the dinner crowd tomorrow—tonight, now—she made it down three steps before she suddenly realized something was very different from the way she had left things.
The wineglass almost slipped from her finger but she managed to hang on to it.
What in the world?
In the moonlight, a dark low-slung shape took pride of place, angled toward the creek. A chair, wrapped in a bow.
For just an instant, she thought this might be a gift from her very own Angel of Hope but then reality intruded. The Angel visited the wounded, the downtrodden, those who were struggling with pain and loss.
Everything in her life was going exactly the way she wanted. Why on earth would the Angel waste time on her?
Not the Angel. Sam.
What you need is a big comfortable chair right there on the back patio so you can unwind out here with the sound of the water. While your dog plays in the grass, of course.
Those had been his words, the day he and Ethan had first come to her house. She remembered them as clearly as if he were standing here now.
Sam had done this. She was suddenly sure of it. She rushed back up the steps and flipped on the porch lights so she could see better.
It was stunning. Built in the Adirondack style, of red cedar stained