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“So how come you didn’t remarry?” Dev asked.

“I just like my life as it is. I’m content, aren’t you? We both ended up with what we wanted, or we’d be leading totally different lives right now.” Beth was embarrassed and babbling, and couldn’t seem to stop.

At his continued silence, she ventured a quick glance at him. At least he wasn’t laughing…

Dev stared down at her, his eyes intent and searching her own. “I really enjoyed walking with you. Maybe another time?”

“I’d like that.”

He strolled away and Beth continued on to her store, reining in the urge to look back.

Just a walk. A casual conversation. Nothing more. Yet she could still feel the tingle in the hand he’d held, still felt that little sense of loss when he’d released it.

There was no use denying it. Their old chemistry was still there, and it intensified every time she ran into him….

ROXANNE RUSTAND

Roxanne Rustand lives in the country with her husband and a menagerie of pets, many of whom find their way into her books. She works part-time as a registered dietitian at a psychiatric facility, but otherwise you’ll find her writing at home in her jammies, surrounded by three dogs begging for treats, or out in the barn with the horses. Her favorite time of all is when her kids are home—though all three are now busy with college and jobs.

This is her twenty-fourth novel, and the first in her Aspen Creek Crossroads series for Love Inspired. Her next book will be Murder at Granite Falls for Love Inspired Suspense, April 2011. RT Book Reviews nominated her for a Career Achievement Award in 2005, and she won the magazine’s award for Best Superromance of 2006.

She loves to hear from readers! Her snail-mail address is P.O. Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52406-2550. You can also contact her at www.roxannerustand.com, at www.shoutlife.com/roxannerustand, or through her blog, where readers and writers talk about their pets, at roxannerustand.blogspot.com.

Winter Reunion

Roxanne Rustand

This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your soul.”

—Jeremiah 6:16

With love to my mother, Arline, whose strength, Swedish determination and whimsical sense of humor has always been my greatest inspiration. She always encouraged me to follow my dreams, and even when I was a little girl, she thought I should be a writer someday. So Mom, this one is for you!

Contents

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

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Beth Carrigan took a last glance at her cell phone, shoved it into her pocket and heaved a sigh.

A crisp, sunny October weekend in Aspen Creek, Wisconsin, usually brought crowds of tourists from Chicago, Minneapolis, and all parts in between.

It didn’t bring unexpected calls from Washington, D.C., California, and the Henderson Law Office. Calls that now had her stomach doing crazy cartwheels.

What on earth was she going to do?

But everything is going to be fine, Lord. It’s going to be fine, right? She surveyed her bookstore, breathing in the beloved scents of books, dark-roast coffee and apricot tea as she walked to the back, where her friends were already settled in an eclectic mix of comfy upholstered chairs and rockers.

Their voices fell silent as three pairs of worried eyes looked up at her. Their concern was so palpable that she forced herself to dredge up a nonchalant smile. “How’s the coffee? Is it better this time? I bought a new fair trade brand and—”

“The question is, how are you?” Olivia Lawson, the oldest book-club member at fifty-six, had been an adjunct professor of literature at an exclusive private college in Chicago before walking away from the rat race and moving to Aspen Creek to teach at the community college.

Her eyebrows, dark in contrast to her short, prematurely silver hair, drew together in a worried frown. “You definitely look upset. Did that fool banker deny your loan application again?”

“No news.” Beth closed her eyes briefly for a quick silent prayer over the vacant building next door, where she hoped to open a gift shop and provide space for a youth center on the upper level.

Keeley North, owner of an antiques shop a few blocks away, snorted. “If it’s those vandals again, we can all march over to the sheriff’s office and make sure he takes things seriously this time.”

Despite her worries, Beth smiled. Blond, blue-eyed, with an effervescent sense of humor that belied her bulldog tenacity, Keeley was loyal to a fault. Beth could easily see her backing the sheriff into a corner until he called in the National Guard. “No vandals. It’s…well, a little more complicated than that.”

“If this is a bad time, we can all leave, dear.” Olivia frowned. “Unless, of course, there’s something we can do to help.”

For years, they’d been meeting twice a month on Saturday mornings, an hour before the store opened. The five members had been friends in good times and bad, and though Hannah was away to help with family problems in Texas, Beth knew she could count on every one of them for support and the utmost discretion. Still, she stumbled over her thoughts trying to frame her news in the best light.

“The first call was from my mother. She’s taking the scenic route from California, and will arrive here next weekend. For two whole weeks.”

“How wonderful.” The glint in her eyes betrayed Olivia’s true feelings. “You two can spend some quality time together, and catch up.”

Beth bit her lower lip. “I hope so…if things go better this time. Usually she comes wanting to revamp my whole life, but she didn’t sound quite that upbeat on the phone. I hope everything is all right.”

Sophie Alexander, the youngest of the group at twenty-nine, slowly shook her cap of short auburn hair. “Last time you were frazzled for months afterward, just trying to find everything.”

“Believe me, if Mom just spends every minute rearranging my house and the store again, I’ll be very thankful.” Beth took a deep breath. “Because that second call was from Dev. He’s coming back on Monday, and plans to be in town for a week.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open. “Your mother and ex-husband. In the same town.” She paused for a moment, then tilted her head and angled a speculative look at Beth. “And he called you to say he’s coming. Interesting.”

“Believe me, there’s no love lost between us now. When he filed for divorce, it was final.” Beth winced, trying to hold back the painful memories of the day he’d announced that he wanted to end their marriage…and the even more painful memories of what happened later. “I haven’t heard a word from him since, other than when he came back to town for his mother’s funeral six months ago.”

“As I remember, it wasn’t exactly a friendly meeting.” Keeley frowned. “I know it was a funeral and all, but he barely acknowledged you.”

And Beth had had trouble controlling her hurt and anger even during that brief encounter, though she’d known it was her duty to attend. “Well, he won’t be in town long this time either, before he heads right back to the Middle East…or wherever it is he’s stationed. That was the drill throughout our marriage, and I’m sure he hasn’t changed.”

Sophie shuddered. “This should be interesting.”

“I don’t even know why he bothered to let me know he’s coming.” Beth managed an offhand smile. “But it’s a blessing to know in advance. With luck, I can make sure my mom and I don’t run into him, and all will be well. I doubt he’ll be out and about much.”

A hush fell over the group. “Is—is he all right?” Keeley ventured after an awkward pause.

“He mentioned a shoulder injury—enough to land him at Walter Reed for a few weeks. He’s on medical leave right now.”

“When I provide physical therapy for a rotator cuff I tell my patients it’ll take a good six months to heal, and for some it’s almost a year. A contaminated battle wound could be much worse.” Sophie’s brow furrowed. “Will he end up with a medical discharge?”

“I asked, but he vehemently denied it.” She felt a twinge in a small, scarred part of her heart as she recalled just how dedicated Dev was to military service. Nothing had mattered more to him. Not his family, not her. “He…sounded awfully touchy when I asked.”

There’d been a time when she would’ve given anything for him to come home for good. But those romantic feelings were long gone, and now she felt only sympathy for a man whose entire adult life had been focused on covert operations that he could never discuss. If he had to leave the service, she could only imagine how difficult the adjustment would be.

Olivia shook her head. “That has to be tough.”

“Definitely, but he’ll have a lot of options once he takes possession of his inheritance. His parents bought up a lot of cheap property long before the town became such a tourist destination. They owned this whole block, and I can’t imagine what it’s all worth now.” Beth hesitated. “That third phone call a few minutes ago was from the family’s attorney.”

“The attorney called you?” Sophie’s soft green eyes filled with worry. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’m supposed to be there for the reading of Vivian’s will. It’s just a formality, though. Dev is the only heir.”

“Wow. It sure took a long time to settle things.”

“Apparently Vivian was very specific about wanting both of us present, even if it meant a long delay because of his military service.”

Just the thought of that meeting gave her jitters.

Dev had betrayed their relationship. Thrown away her love, and left her to face the worst experience of her life alone. She’d prayed hard, trying to forgive him, and maybe she had, but seeing him again would reopen those wounds.

And worse, Dev had made it plain during their divorce that he’d never live in Aspen Creek again. Would he callously decide to terminate her lease so he could sell all of his parents’ property to the highest bidder?

If he did, she’d lose her home and her livelihood. Her customers and the members of the book club were like family to her, and she’d lose them as well, if she couldn’t find another affordable location in this town.

And the bitter end of their marriage made it all a distinct possibility.

Keeley sat forward in her chair and shoved a strand of gleaming, honey-blond hair behind her ear. “Now, that’s intriguing. You need to be there for the reading of the will, but you’ve been divorced, what—a year?”

“About that.” Thirteen months and two weeks, to be exact, though she’d never admit to being so aware of the time frame.

“Maybe she left everything to you.”

“And not to their only child? No way.”

Keeley’s irreverent grin matched the sparkle in her eyes. “All the more reason to at least divide it up.”

“A will might have been drawn up during the years Dev and I were still married, but I’m sure his mother wasted no time amending it. She always thought he’d married down the social scale and way too young, even though he was twenty-one. And honestly,” Beth added with a rueful laugh, “she was probably right on both counts.”

“He was lucky to find someone like you,” Sophie said staunchly.

“My own mother wasn’t much happier, believe me.” Beth shrugged. “I’ll show up at that meeting, then slip away so Dev and the lawyer can get down to business. If I can just get past this next week, then everything should go back to normal. I hope.”

Dev wearily dropped his duffel bag at his feet, fished a key out of his pocket and opened the front door of the empty Walker building to look inside. The massive limestone walls of the two-story structure had stood solid and uncompromising for over a hundred years, home to everything from a turn-of-the century wood mill to a medical office and finally the law offices of a long-departed attorney and his partners back in the 1980s.

It was at one end of the block-long row of four large buildings his parents had owned, which all backed up to Aspen Creek. The middle two buildings had been leased as storage for the past few years, though one of them was now empty. The bookstore was the only busy commercial establishment at this end of Hawthorne Avenue.

At that thought, he sighed.

After the reading of his mother’s will, he’d need to make some hard decisions about the family home and all of this property, and he’d need to do it fast, before he shipped out to the Middle East again. But what would happen to Beth’s beloved store if he sold out? He knew she couldn’t possibly have the money to buy it.

He took a step into the empty building and surveyed the trash, old lumber and crumbling boxes that had accumulated inside over the years.

During some of his long, cold and deathly quiet nights on recon missions since his mother’s death, he’d sometimes let his mind wander back to this building, and to what he’d do with it. Since it had been vacant for a few years, would it even attract buyers?

Yet the old building seemed like a perfect location for a fine restaurant, or an upscale clothing store of some kind. Or even better, a high-adventure sporting-goods store, with kayak and canoe rentals handled at the walk-out basement level, where customers would be able to launch practically from the back door. Surely the increasing tourism in the area could draw buyers with something like that in mind.

He stifled a flash of regret at imagining the place belonging to someone else. He certainly wasn’t planning to stay in town, much less start a business, and sentiment wouldn’t pay the real estate taxes at the end of the year, or the cost of ongoing upkeep, either.

Selling it to the right buyers would even bring more traffic to this secluded street and help Beth’s bookstore in the process, which would all be for the good.

Beth.

Running a hand over the rough stone walls, he tried to force her from his thoughts, but her image stayed there—wounded, vulnerable, betrayed—with the shock and pain still in her eyes at the moment he’d demanded a divorce and then walked out of her life.

Maybe he could finally absolve some of his own guilt if he were to set a rock-bottom price and a no-interest payment contract, to ensure that she could buy her beloved building. He owed her that and more, for how badly he’d treated her.

If she was even willing to talk to him about it. He certainly had no doubts about what her reaction would be when they met face-to-face at the lawyer’s office.

Her formal, distant words and cool nod of sympathy at his mother’s funeral marked a chasm between them that had probably only deepened since then.

He’d be lucky if she even showed up. But what did he expect, after what he’d done to her? She’d been a forever kind of woman and she’d deserved so much more than someone as damaged as him.

At the oddly magnified sound of approaching footsteps, he lifted a hand to adjust his new hearing aid and froze, his senses still hyperalert as he fought a flashback to mortar fire and an explosion of rock and steel. For a split second he couldn’t draw breath in the choking dust of it all. Felt the searing pain. Saw the crumpled bodies—all that was left of his squad.

His buddies for the past ten years, and the only family he knew beyond the parents who’d estranged themselves from him so long ago.

That he’d been the one left with just wounds and a severe, temporary hearing loss filled him with renewed guilt and sorrow every single day.

He forced himself to relax and look over his shoulder, and found Nora Henderson sauntering toward him with a briefcase in one hand and a stack of manila folders held in the crook of her other arm.

She nodded toward the law office across the street. “Mondays are usually quiet, and I finished with my previous appointment a little early. If you’re ready, come on over.”

“And Beth?” The name felt soft and sweet, like the woman herself, and he found himself reining in emotions he’d thought long dead.

The attorney shifted her load and snagged a cell phone from her briefcase. “We definitely need her, too. I’ll give her a call.”

“Can I ask why she has to be there? I thought everything was settled during our divorce.”

A flicker of a smile touched the older woman’s lips as she veered off to cross the street. “I’m simply following your mother’s instructions,” she said over her shoulder. “She was always remarkably specific, you know. See you in a few minutes?”

Memories swamped him as he watched the lawyer walk away. Remarkably specific. Now that was hitting the nail square on the head for both of his parents, he thought with a hollow, silent laugh.

They’d planned every step of his education. Every decision had been theirs, without fail, no matter what he’d wanted, right down to where he would go to college for premed, the GPA he had to earn, and which medical school he would attend.

They’d brooked no arguments. Hadn’t listened. Within their social circle, they’d been lauded as model parents. But when he’d run off to join the military, it had been as much an escape as it was a career choice.

And his father had never spoken to him again.

Beth felt a prickle of uneasiness skitter down her spine when the legal secretary gave her a knowing smile and waved her back to Nora’s office.

Her uneasiness exploded into full-fledged anxiety when she arrived to find Dev already seated, his broad shoulders dwarfing one of the two leather chairs facing Nora’s desk. Clenching her jaw, she wished she could be anywhere else.

She’d expected gaunt, hospital pallor, and had prepared to offer cool, detached sympathy. She hadn’t expected this. His overlong, midnight hair was past due for a cut. The five-o’clock shadow roughening his jaw and black polo shirt stretched over heavily muscled biceps gave him a dark and dangerous air.

Which, she supposed, was warranted, given what he did for a living, though it seemed out of place in this genteel little tourist town.

He moved to rise at her appearance but she waved him down into his chair as she sat and tried for a nonchalant air. “Nora, Dev. Nice to see you both, but I’m not sure why I need to be here.”

Dev’s intent gaze swept over her, then turned back to Nora. “A formality?”

Nora lifted a folder from the stack on her desk and opened it. “More than that,” she murmured. “Vivian and Alan were wonderful people. They cared deeply about their church, their community and their son. They wanted to make changes in their world while they were alive, and wanted it to continue after their deaths.”

Clearly uncomfortable at her words, Dev hitched a shoulder. “If they left everything to the church, I’m cool with that. I’m not sticking around in this town at any rate.”

“Not all families are quite so understanding, believe me. This office can turn into a war zone at the drop of a hat.” Nora smiled at him. “But while your parents did leave some of their liquid assets as a bequest for the church, that wasn’t the major part of their estate.”

The attorney sifted through the papers in front of her and began reading a long document detailing a number of other bequests to local charities, shirttail relatives and to several close friends.

Beth shifted in her seat and shot a surreptitious look at Dev. His casual demeanor revealed little concern about the proceedings…though as the only heir, he certainly didn’t need to worry. His father had been a popular small-town doctor, and his mother had come from an old-money family out East.

Whether or not he returned to active military service, his future would be secure.

Well, good for him. The sooner he left town, the sooner the painful knot in her stomach would ease.

Dev jerked upright at the same moment Beth heard her own name. She tuned back in to the lawyer’s words.

Dev shot a glance at Beth, then turned back to the lawyer. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid not, Dev.”

Confused, Beth looked between the two of them. “What?”

“Vivian made these…adjustments to her will after her husband’s death.” Nora tapped the paper in front of her. “She said Alan might not have approved, but she had good reasons, and as a woman of sound mind, she had the right to make any changes she wished. Are you familiar with the family home, Beth?”

“Well, yes. Of course. I haven’t been there for many years. After Alan died, Vivian moved to a condo and turned their home into Sloane House—a boardinghouse.”

“Not just any boarders. She took in people who had faced troubles and needed encouragement, a safe haven or a little boost in life. She helped them get on their feet.”

“How?”

“Some just needed an affordable place to stay so they could save money toward a rent deposit or down payment on a place of their own. Some had been downsized or out of the workforce for years, so she helped them look for jobs and prepare for interviews, or find loans for reeducation. Some needed help connecting with the right kinds of county services.”

“My mother, the social worker,” Dev said drily. “That isn’t how I remember her while I was growing up.”

Nora looked at him over the rims of her glasses. “You’ve been gone many years. People change.”

“I guess, but she sure never said anything about this in her Christmas letters.”

“She did know her limitations. She didn’t have a degree in social work, just a big heart. She considered this her ministry, and it meant the world to her when members of her flock succeeded.”

“She was certainly discreet,” Beth murmured. “I just knew there were boarders living there.”

“Which is exactly what she wanted the town to know, for the privacy of those who received her help.”

“Still, I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

Nora smiled. “Vivian was worried about the future of any boarders who might be living there after she died.”

“So my mother decided we ought to be partners, in the business sense,” Dev added, giving Beth a sharp look. “She added a clause to her will requiring that we operate her boardinghouse. Together. For a minimum of six months.”

The heat of Dev’s stare scorched her skin, and Beth suddenly felt faint. “Both of us? Why?”

Nora pursed her lips. “I suspect Vivian thought Devlin would need help, but it’s probably a little more complicated than that.”

“Well, it won’t work. Period. I was due to re-up last month, but had to postpone it until my next checkup at a VA hospital.” Dev sat back in his chair, his spine rigid. “I’ve already made an appointment in Minneapolis on the fifteenth. Once I’m cleared, I’ll go active as soon as I can arrange the flights.”

“You would need to extend your leave, of course.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “That’s…that’s not possible.”

“After all your years in the service, these circumstances surrounding your mother’s estate, and the fact that you are due to re-up, I’d bet it’s very possible,” Nora mused, giving him a thoughtful look. “If you wanted to try.”

“I have no experience with the care of the elderly, at any rate.”

“These people aren’t just old folks, believe me. Beth leased her bookstore and the apartment above it from your parents. Correct?”

He gave a single terse nod.

“Do you remember Vivian saying she wanted to give you one of the buildings when you retired from active service? She always hoped you’d come back home and start some sort of business here.”

“That was years and years ago, right after I enlisted,” Dev said, his voice touched with regret. “I guess emotions were running pretty high at the time. I told her that I would never move back under any circumstances.”

“Mothers can have amazing memories where their children are concerned.” Nora canted her head as she looked between the two of them. “That block is part of the estate, as you know. But if the terms of the will aren’t met, all of the commercial property will go to Dev’s uncle, Stan Murdock, and their home will be given to a women’s shelter. Dev would only inherit his parents’ personal possessions.”

Dev drew in a sharp breath. “Stan is aware of this?”

“Definitely. He…ah…has voiced considerable interest in razing the entire block for condo development.” Nora arched an eyebrow. “He’s actually starting to make plans, as he’s quite sure you’ll decide to walk away.”

Which meant that all the beautiful old stone buildings—including her beloved bookstore and her pretty little apartment above—would fall to a wrecking ball. Her heart sinking, Beth stared at Nora, then she twisted in her chair to face Dev. “Are you going to let him do that?” she whispered.

“He can’t.” A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “That block was designated for preservation as a historic site. My parents worked on the application years ago.”

“True. But apparently there were errors in the paperwork filed by the county attorney, and Stan found some loopholes.” Nora’s mouth curled with disgust. “And with his political connections, he must figure he’ll have no trouble doing what he wants. He had an architect come with him from St. Paul earlier this week. The two of them walked the area so preliminary drawings could be made. They stopped in here to discuss how soon Stan could take possession, as if it were a done deal.”

Beth sat back in her chair, appalled. “So your uncle would destroy part of the historic section of this town just to make money.”

“He’s not a blood relative of mine.” Dev’s expression darkened. “He was my late aunt’s second husband. He’s a successful businessman in the Twin Cities area and a big donor at charity events. But even as a kid I heard him talk about wheeling and dealing to get exactly what he wanted. I still can’t believe Mom would even consider letting him get his hands on her property. Is there any way around it?”

“You mean, if Beth alone complied with the will, or the two of you hired a manager to take over the boardinghouse? No. Vivian made sure of it.”

“I could retain another lawyer to challenge the will.”

“You’re welcome to do so. In fact, I’d encourage it, just so you’ll feel you’ve had your best shot at this.” Nora shrugged. “But I’ve represented your family’s interests for over twenty years, so please do understand that my concern is for Vivian’s wishes along with the well-being of every family member—you included. If I thought there was a way around the stipulations in your mother’s will, I’d let you know. But,” she added with a faint smile, “I was the one who wrote it up, and I made sure it was ironclad, at her express instructions. Unless, of course, you’d returned from the military too disabled to function as an independent adult.”

Beth clutched the arms of her chair. “So if Dev and I manage the boardinghouse, he can receive his full inheritance and protect the property. What does this entail, exactly?”

“It certainly isn’t a full-time job for those six months. Vivian figured twenty hours a week, more or less, shared between the two of you. You’ll manage the house and grounds—maintenance and so on.”

“‘And so on’ could cover a lot of things.”

“You’d be expected to provide assistance and encouragement for the remaining residents, if they need or request it. That might entail helping with searches for jobs, or locating opportunities for school or training. Help with transportation, if need be. Vivian wanted her last boarders to be assisted in every way toward independence, so they can move on to careers or a happy life elsewhere. It’s what she would’ve done for them if she hadn’t passed away.”

“And if they don’t…succeed?”

“Then the estate is tied up for a final six-month period to give you more time. If it’s deemed that you made little effort to assist the boarders, then the property goes to Stan. And, of course, the boardinghouse would be closed and any remaining boarders would have to leave.”

Dev frowned. “What about day-to-day management of the house itself?”

“The residents each make their own breakfast and lunch, but take turns cooking supper for the group. Vivian worked with them as needed on the planning, budgeting and shopping lists.”

“And she left a list of reliable repair people, right?”

“Viv was actually quite handy, though she had to hire repairmen now and then.”

“My mother?”

A grin briefly touched Nora’s lips. “She certainly evolved, over time. She told me that a service manual or a quick search on Google usually provided all she needed to know.”

“And the lawn?”

“A lawn-care service could take care of the grass and snow removal, but the monthly budget is limited to the amount of rent paid plus a small stipend. So if you choose to take care of things yourself, it would save money for the bigger problems.”

Beth thought for a moment, trying to remember the old folks she’d seen toddling around town. “What if a resident is simply unable to reach independence? And who judges whether everything has been accomplished—or can’t be?”

“This isn’t an assisted-living situation. All of the residents are capable of independence and are of reasonable working age, as that was a stipulation before they could move in.” Nora folded her hands over the file on her desk. “As far as monitoring the success of the operation goes, a lawyer from Madison and I have been left with that responsibility. Our assignment is to put the welfare of the residents above everything else, and that’s what we will do.”