board. “No problem.”
“Mom already covered the pastries so I guess I’ll—” she looked around the room at the crumb-littered tables and chairs moved about “—wipe everything down and put things back where they belong.”
An hour later, the counters sparkled, the floor was mopped, and Sonny and Holly stood on the front porch. The sun was poised on the tops of the distant mountains, as if protesting its coming demise.
“Thanks, bro.” Holly wrapped an arm around her brother’s waist and squeezed. She started down the steps.
“Hold on. I’ll give you a ride. My truck’s right here.” He pointed to his dust-covered white pickup with toolboxes and a ladder rack in the bed.
“Okay.” Holly opened the door of the big truck only to find a bag of power tools on the passenger seat.
“Let me do some rearranging.” Sonny grabbed the bag and stuck it behind his seat. “How’s that?”
“Fine. Now all I need is a step stool to get into this thing.” Holly reached for the handgrip and hoisted herself onto the seat.
Sonny slammed his door with a screech and backed out of the parking spot. “The girl I knew jumped onto the back of a sixteen-hand horse with no problem.” He glanced at her, his eyes squinting in the glare from the setting sun.
Holly nodded and waved as they passed Mrs. Hershberger, planting pansies by the front stoop of her small ranch house. “A lot can change in ten years.”
Sonny didn’t answer as he pulled into the long driveway of the Victorian house her parents had converted into a bed-and-breakfast. When they’d first purchased the fixer-upper, Holly thought the old house was a dead ringer for the Amityville Horror house. She’d had her doubts about the wisdom of turning it into a B and B, but unlike her father, who had repeatedly advised her against leaving the military, Holly kept her comments to herself.
Her parents and Sonny had been able to see something else and after a summer of renovations, the bed-and-breakfast was now one of the most popular stays in the area. It was only May and they were booked solid for every weekend Penn State was playing at home. A sign on the manicured front lawn said Flowers Bed and Breakfast. He cut the engine and the two sat in silence. “You were a little prickly with Mac earlier. How come?”
Holly picked at a chunk of chocolate syrup stuck to her jeans. She wasn’t sure herself why the sight of Mac McAndrews stirred up such conflicting emotions. “It’s a long story.” Not wanting to see the look on her brother’s face, she continued to work at the stain. Sonny had been in the military the year Mac started coming around. He had no idea the turmoil the newcomer had caused and she wasn’t about to tell him.
“And you didn’t know Chief Stone died? You were home at Christmas. He died the beginning of January.”
“I was either running to Pittsburgh researching supplies or working at the store. I didn’t know which end was up. I hardly ever saw Mom, and I for sure wasn’t reading the obituaries.” Holly glanced into the neighbor’s yard, where their obviously pregnant black Lab entertained herself with a stick. “I didn’t know Daisy was having puppies. I thought Fran just wanted one litter.”
“Don’t change the subject. What about Mac? Why were you so rude? When you’re in business, Holly, you have to be polite to everyone, even if you feel like tossing them out the door.”
“Quit treating me like I’m an imbecile. You think you’re the only one who can run a business?” Holly shifted on the hard vinyl seat. When Sonny didn’t respond, she continued. “Besides, like I said, I’ve had a lot on my mind. When I heard the pet store closed and saw the vacant storefront at Thanksgiving, I made up my mind to leave the military. Everything happened so fast.”
Sonny pulled two pencils, a small tablet, assorted business cards and his phone out of his pocket and tossed them in the center console. “You sure did make a lot of changes in a short period of time.” He caught her eye. “But you still haven’t explained why you were so hard on Mac this morning. You haven’t seen the guy since high school and if something happened back then...” Sonny peered at her in the gathering darkness and his voice took on a serious note when he asked, “Did something happen back then?”
Holly forced a laugh. “Nothing bad happened. We just didn’t get along.”
“That’s kid stuff, then. But whatever had you so fired up this morning, you need to let go. Mac’s had some rough times since he left home.” Sonny punched her in the shoulder. “Any regrets about the coffee shop?”
“Ouch.” Holly rubbed her shoulder. Her brother didn’t know his own strength. “So far, I have no regrets whatsoever.” She sighed. “But if I don’t pay Dad back by the end of the year I’ll never hear the end of it, not to mention losing all my savings. Then I’m sure I’ll have plenty of regrets.”
“I don’t know why Dad is pressing you for such a quick turnaround. Thomas and I both had three years to show a profit.” Sonny pushed open his door and stepped out.
“No kidding.”
“Maybe you should serve soup and sandwiches for lunch.”
“I don’t cook. Remember?” Sonny’s habit of making business suggestions was okay but sometimes she just wished people would mind their own business. Soup and sandwiches? I barely have the espresso recipes memorized. She slid down from the seat, slammed the door and said, “Maybe. Someday.”
Leaning on the open door, he gave her an appraising look. “Hey, you got your first day in. Congratulations. Let’s see if Dad left anything from dinner.”
Holly followed her brother to the side door. “I knew you had an ulterior motive. Didn’t you already eat?”
“Scout night means slim pickings at my house. I’m starved.”
Holly slapped him on the shoulder as they entered her mother’s kitchen and were greeted with the lingering smell of pot roast. “You’re always starved.” As annoying as Sonny could be, Holly had to admit she’d missed teasing and being teased by her brother. That was one thing that hadn’t changed since she’d been gone.
FRIDAY MORNING, MAC decided to patrol the outskirts of town. An out-of-towner’s hunting camp had been broken into. The only damage was a shattered window and the disappearance of some canned goods, but he still wanted to check it out. Passing Holly’s shop, he noticed a line out the door. Coffee would have to wait.
A short while later, he found himself crossing the suspension bridge over Little Bear Creek. Halfway across he stopped just in time to see a sleek brown trout jump in the fast-moving stream. On the bank, the green of late spring had rapidly covered the dead brush of winter. He continued on and turned left onto a macadam road that paralleled the stream. Coming to a freshly plowed field, he slowed and studied the white house at the end of a long lane.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires of Mac’s patrol car as he eased down the driveway of the Smith farm. The twins were the third generation to live on the two-hundred-acre farm. They no longer worked the land but instead rented out the fields to younger farmers who needed more land but couldn’t afford it. He stopped the car at the foot of a long flight of steps leading up to the front porch. A garden
