“Hey you! It’s me, Jemma Leigh. Rose said you’d be by today,” Jemma Leigh called out as she teetered on high heels. She carefully made her way to Summer, with a stack of papers clutched tight in one hand. “I have a key for you, though Rose said you wouldn’t need it.”

Rose was correct. A locked door had never kept Summer out of any building. “How thoughtful.”

Jemma Leigh stopped short, searching Summer’s face. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“No,” Summer lied, tossing her hair over one shoulder. Jemma Leigh had always been kind to her, even in school. Once Jemma Leigh had given Summer her own lunch when Summer had forgotten hers, and had no money to purchase one. Another time, she’d complimented Summer on a dress she’d worn to school, for the first day of ninth grade. It had been one of her mother’s and ill fitting.

But that’s not why Summer lied. She lied because she couldn’t afford to make friends. Friends turned on you when you needed them the most. Only Summer didn’t remember Jemma Leigh turning on her. Then again, Summer had never given her the chance.

“Oh.” Jemma Leigh’s face fell. “Well, I remember you, Summer Holland. We went to school together. You always drew the best pictures in art class, and I was green with envy.”

That’s what Jemma Leigh remembered? Not the rumors, or the whispers, or the name-calling, but how well she’d drawn? Color her confused. “Thank you.”

Jemma Leigh shifted her weight from side to side, and then handed over the stack of papers. “I took the opportunity to get the mail this evening, since you wouldn’t know to get it. But since you’re staying, you can get it from now on. While you’re here, you’ll have to have coffee with me so we can catch up. There’s a new café in town with muffins that will widen your hips just from looking at them. Not as good as Daisy’s place, but she’s off with her earl, living it up in England or China… Some place like that. Anyway, you just have to go with me.”

Summer stared at her blankly, taking the mail.

“You are staying, aren’t you?” Jemma Leigh’s brows drew together. “I could have sworn Rose said you were.”

Summer crossed her arms, not the easiest of feats considering her hands were full. “I’m thinking about staying.” There was no need for the entire town to know she was here, until she was good and ready. She turned and walked to the house, leaving Jemma Leigh standing in the middle of the front yard.

“Nice chatting with you, Summer. I’ll see you around,” Jemma Leigh called out, but Summer barely paid her any attention. All her focus was on the house, and what she’d find behind the door.

The old-fashioned key seemed to weigh about a thousand pounds in her hand. Her palms became sweaty and her knees wobbly, but she put the key in the lock and turned it. The door swung open.

A cat rushed out, winding around her legs. She bent down, dumping the mail on the porch to scoop him up. “Blackbeard,” she whispered again his soft, black fur. “I’ve missed you.”

Blackbeard purred in response.

She looked into his blue eyes and made a face. “It hasn’t been that long.”

The cat kept staring, and his tail twitched.

“All right, it has been a long time, but I plan on staying a long time.” She stroked his back. “Does my time frame meet with your approval?”

Blackbeard wriggled out of her arms, and she let him go. Rising to her feet, she left the porch and the mail behind her as she entered the house.

A white envelope propped up on a table in the foyer caught her eye. Her name was boldly written on it. Blackbeard jumped on the table, rubbing against the mirror.

“You’re so vain now. Is Rose’s husband the reason for it?” she asked the cat. Picking up the note, she examined it and then let out a puff of air when she couldn’t discern what was inside without opening it.

“Fine,” she muttered, lifting the back flap and pulling out the letter.

Dear Summer,

Sasha, Ivy, and I are traveling in Zimbabwe at the moment. We are opening a new school there, and then another one in Brazil.

“A globetrotting Holland. Who would have thunk it?” she said, absently petting Blackbeard.

Normally, I keep Carolina Dreams closed during our trips, but there are several couples that will need our help. I hope that you can find a way to reopen the store while I’m gone. After all, you and Skye helped start it. Please pay yourself whatever you think is fair. Harrison can help you, if you have any questions.

“Fat chance of Harrison helping me,” Summer muttered.

Please make yourself at home. You’ll find your old bedroom ready for you. I’m sure Blackbeard can show you the way, if you’ve forgotten.

All My Love,

Rose

P.S. Tell Blackbeard to stay out of my closet. He has a nasty habit of drooling on my cashmere sweaters.

P.P.S. That was Sasha, not me. Blackbeard has a crush on him.

P.P.P.S. Why wouldn’t he? I’m very pleasing to the eye, as are you.

P.P.P.P.S. Beauty fades, but I’ll keep you anyway.

Summer swallowed a giggle, and then crumpled up the letter. Her sister was truly in love, and the man she married was truly in love with her. The thought of it warmed the coldness that lived inside of her, but only a little. A little was all she would allow.

She looked in the mirror, not at herself, but at the room behind her. Everything inside the house had changed. It was elegant and touchable. The large chairs flanking either side of the fireplace practically begged to be sat in, but she wouldn’t succumb.

Instead, she scooped up Blackbeard and dropped the letter on the table. She wandered around for what seemed like hours, taking in the newness as memories washed over her.

Running through the house with her sisters, laughing as Blackbeard chased after them. Their mother teaching her how to illustrate botanical recipes long after everyone had gone to bed, not even Rose suspected Summer had been the one to do that.

Trying the new recipes Rose invented. Putting up with all the friends Skye would make and try to bring home with her. Meeting Gabriel for the first time, in the backyard, when he’d gotten lost in the woods.

But along with the good, came the bad.

Growing up to look exactly like Azalea. Dealing with the rumors while, struggling not to become what she was accused of being. Azalea kicking her out. Living with Patrick—

Summer paused in the middle of the upstairs hallway and closed her eyes.

She wouldn’t think of him, of what he demanded after letting her stay the night when she had nowhere else to go. Summer had thought Patrick was her friend, because he was Gabriel’s friend. And Gabriel would have never been friends with—

Her eyes popped open, and she marched to her old room.

It didn’t matter what Gabriel used to be, was right now, or would be in the future. Coming home to Holland Springs had nothing to do with him.

She threw open the door and stepped inside. The room was tastefully done in soft greens and rich creams, two of her favorite colors. Little splashes of pink and yellow made the room extra homey.

But the picture of her holding a newborn Ivy seemed to mock her from the mantle over the fireplace. Her lips twisted, and her jaw clenched.

It’s the right thing, Summer.

But it hurts.

I know it does, but I’ll help you, every step of the way, if you want.

Gabriel. It was his fault she’d given up Ivy like she had. It was his fault that she allowed him to see her in a weak moment. Otherwise, she would have never let Rose adopt Ivy. She would have found a way to make herself a better mother… to make herself love a child who no longer knew her. A child who looked so much like the man who’d helped her, who’d found her in a diner while she counted tips and how many days were left before she had to pay rent again.

Darius.

Though she hadn’t loved him, she had liked him and the way he treated her, like she mattered and deserved respect. She’d admired him and the sacrifices he’d made while in the ARMY. When he’d died in a roadside bomb, a piece of her died along with him.

The image of mother and child blurred. Summer blinked, and tears ran down her cheeks.

No matter what, she’d never let herself be that weak again.

Chapter Two

The next day, at precisely nine AM, Summer reopened Carolina Dreams. She’d been up since dawn, reacquainting herself with the apothecary shop. Everything was as it should be, neatly labeled, and stored in the back and across the street, according to the second letter Rose had left for her.

Summer glanced around the office, taking in the new desk, new desk chair, new computer, and plethora of family pictures. She ran a finger along the edge of a frame. Ivy, Rose, and Sasha posed in the pictured. Ivy wore a tutu, a bow in her hair, and a sweet smile.

Summer flipped the picture over.

The bells on the door rang, and she walked to the front, standing behind the massive counter made of wood and glass. This would be her battle station, the place where she could draw power and throw containers of shampoo at customers if she had to.

God, she hoped she didn’t have to.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the first, second, third, and fourth customer walked inside, made their purchase, and left. All with a wave and a smile.

All said things like:

It’s nice to meet you.

I love your store.

This is exactly what I’ve been looking for.

Say hello to Rose.

Tell her we miss her.

For the next three days, the pattern repeated with even more customers, until it felt as though the bells over the door played Carol of the Bells due to all the activity.

By the time three o’clock rolled around on Wednesday, Summer was mentally exhausted, but she couldn’t close until the tall redhead finished shopping. The woman kept giving Summer looks, but for the most part, Summer thought it was merely curiosity and not hostility.

“Could you help me, please?” the woman called out.

Summer moved to the corner of the store, to where the scented lotions and body washes were displayed. “Is there a certain scent that speaks to you?”

The redhead gave her an odd look, her green eyes a touch frosty. “Speaks to me?”

“Have you smelled any of them, and have a particular favorite or two?” Summer asked, trying again. Unlike Rose, she didn’t immediately grab the scent she knew would complement the customer, because she preferred the customer to come to their own conclusions—with a little guidance, of course.

“They all smell nice, but I want to find one that will drive my boyfriend wild.”

Ah, so that was the hesitation. Summer smiled. This was something she loved, though, no one would have believed her. “First things, first. Tell me about him—his favorite dessert, the color of his eyes and hair…his favorite time of day to… kiss you.” All romantic things to know about a lover in Summer’s opinion. At that moment, Gabriel came to mind. Effortlessly, she answered every one of those questions about him.

Favorite dessert, lemon pound cake. The color of his eyes, darkest blue with a ring of black at the center. Hair just as dark, and silky to touch. As for kissing her, he had always said he loved kissing her during the summer sunset, because it was as close as he could get to kissing her at nighttime, without breaking curfew.

“His favorite dessert is lemon pound cake. Dark blue eyes, black hair, and—”

Summer’s hand froze, hovering over a blue bottle. Please don’t let her say at sunset. Please, please, please.

“He doesn’t have a favorite time of day, not that I’ve ever heard. He just kisses me whenever.”

Summer exhaled, and then glanced at her customer. It wasn’t Gabriel. She was silly to think it was, or even to think of him at all.

The redhead blushed and tipped up her chin. Summer felt a bit sorry for her, because she got the impression the woman hated that her boyfriend didn’t have a favorite time of day to kiss her.

Despite what people thought about her, including her sisters, she couldn’t stand to see innocent people in pain or feeling bad about themselves. She knew what it was like.

“I think that’s perfect, really,” Summer said, trying to put her at ease. “His favorite time of day is all day. You’re so lucky to have a man like that...Um, I didn’t catch your name.”