she thought wryly. The effects of that stale candy bar she’d bought in Cleveland had worn off long before she reached Liberty Creek.
The town she’d vowed to leave in her rearview mirror, she recalled as they got into his big black four-by-four and headed to the address her new landlord had given her. Well, there was no help for that now. It was the dead of winter, and since she had no car, she was stuck here until the baby was born. After that, she could make some plans to move away, for good this time. Until then, she’d just have to figure out a way to make do.
The house wasn’t far from the forge, in a nice, quiet neighborhood with a clear view of Liberty Creek’s iconic covered bridge. She knocked on the front door of a small Colonial that was typical of the homes in this town that had come into existence shortly after the American Revolution. Tucked in for the winter behind wrought iron fences that were almost invisible beneath the snow, many of the chimneys had smoke drifting lazily up from fireplaces that must keep things warm and cozy inside.
Family places, she thought with a pang of envy. Kitchens filled with home-baked cookies and pot roasts, the kinds of food that her own mother had never made because two waitressing jobs had left her with no energy by dinnertime. Lindsay remembered how her friends’ moms had been—warm and kind, taking care of their husbands and kids every single day. She’d never met her own father, who’d bolted long before she came into the world.
Like Jeff.
More than once, she’d wondered if she was cursed to continue her mother’s path of destruction in her own life. Pushing the gloomy thought aside, she plastered a smile on her face as footsteps sounded on the other side of the heavy door.
A petite woman slowly pulled it open and squinted out at Lindsay. “May I help you?”
“Hello, Mrs. Farrington. I’m Lindsay Holland,” she explained, offering her hand and her friendliest smile. “We talked last week about your spare room, and I sent you a money order for the deposit. When I asked about moving in on Monday, you said that would be fine.”
“And that’s today?” the woman asked, seeming confused. When Lindsay nodded, she shook her head with a slight grimace. “I lose track sometimes. Please come in.”
“Thank you.”
The elderly woman gave Brian a quick once-over that settled on his boots. Grinning, he set Lindsay’s bag down and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll stay on the mat.”
“I’d appreciate that. All this ice and snow makes a mess of the wood floors.”
“When I spoke to you on the phone, you said that you and your husband are from Georgia,” Lindsay commented. “How are you liking New Hampshire?”
“It’s cold and wet,” a man’s voice replied from an open archway that led into a living room that still sported its original wood paneling. He did the assessing thing, too, but while he instantly dismissed Brian, his gaze swept over Lindsay twice, and his jaw tightened. “May I take your coat, Miss Holland?”
The stiff tone seemed to contradict his polite request, and she couldn’t put her finger on what was going on as she slipped out of her coat. When she held it out for him to take, he pinned her with a scowl that was colder than the air outside.
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yes, I am.” Glancing at his wife, she got no help whatsoever, so she focused back on him. “Is that a problem?”
“You didn’t mention that when we spoke,” he reminded her in an accusing tone.
“I didn’t think to. Does it matter?”
“Will your husband be joining you?”
“I’m not married,” she answered, bewildered by the sudden hostility. And again, she asked, “Is that a problem?”
Mr. Farrington’s lips pressed into a flat, disapproving line, and he all but spat, “We don’t rent to tramps like you.”
Lindsay felt Brian step up behind her in the protective gesture she remembered so fondly from her difficult high school years. She could feel the fury pouring off him, and she silently begged him not to do anything that would cause the elderly couple to call the sheriff.
“I guess you’ve got the right to renege on your deal,” Brian began in a tone that made it clear what he thought of that, “but the lady sent you a deposit, trusting that there’d be a room waiting for her. She’ll be needing that back.”
“Didn’t sign nothin’,” the man argued half-heartedly, probably because he knew Brian was right.
The two glowered at each other, the older one defensive while the younger one simply stared back as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After nearly a minute of that, Brian folded his arms in an obstinate way that announced he wasn’t leaving until the man refunded Lindsay’s down payment to her.
“Ed, just give her the money,” his wife pleaded, obviously anxious to have the whole nasty business over with. “I’m sure we can get by without it for a while longer.”
He didn’t respond but dug a battered wallet from his back pocket and leafed through the contents. Lindsay was fairly certain that he was selecting the most worn bills to give her, and it was all she could do to keep her mouth shut. The whole incident echoed the snobbish way she’d been treated by some of her holier-than-thou classmates, and it was tough not to lash out at the man who’d mashed one of her buttons.
When he finally had the right amount, he pointedly set it on the hallway table before turning and stalking back the way he’d come. It was as if he didn’t want to risk catching anything by handing the cash to her, and Lindsay summoned the tattered remnants of her dignity, fighting to keep her temper in check.
“I really am sorry about this, Miss Holland,” Mrs. Farrington said quietly as she opened the door for them. “We’re in a bad way, and renting that room to you would’ve made a big difference to all of us. I wish we could have helped each other.”
The woman sounded sincere, and Lindsay put aside her own predicament to show some compassion as she retrieved the money that Ed had left. “I do, too. What will you do now?”
“Find another renter, I suppose. It’s not easy in the wintertime because folks are pretty well dug in where they are until spring. When you called about our ad, I thought it was the answer to my prayers.”
Understandably distraught, she waited for them to leave and eased the door closed behind them. The sound of three different locks engaging ended the uncomfortable confrontation with a finality that sent Lindsay’s heart plunging to the snow-covered walkway beneath her feet. Thoroughly soaked from tramping around in her thin flat shoes, they were taking on a decided chill that only made her more miserable. As they headed back to Brian’s truck, she felt her heart sinking a little lower with each step.
“Now what?” she asked, glancing back at the house that had seemed so welcoming but had proven to be the exact opposite.
“Lunch. I’m starving.”
Her hero, she thought with a fondness that startled her. Over the years, she’d often thought of the rakish boy who’d fought so many battles for her, even before they’d become serious about each other. While he’d been—and still was—one of the best-looking guys she’d
