condemned.
Fortunately, that’s when Uncle Zachery had returned. He’d discovered his sister-in-law’s perfidy, tracked Zach to Louisiana, gone up against the town of Bonne Terre and won. He’d brought Zach back to Houston, educated him and put him to work. With his powerful uncle behind him, Zach had become one of the richest men in America.
His cell phone vibrated. He strode off the girder and to the lift, taking the call as he descended.
To his surprise it was Nick Landry.
“Zach, I feel bad about your uncle, yes. I be calling you to offer my condolences. I read about you in the papers. I be as proud as a papa of your accomplishments, yes.”
So many people had called this past week, but this call meant everything. For years, Zach had avoided Nick and anything to do with Bonne Terre, Louisiana, but the warmth in Nick’s rough voice cheered him.
“It’s good to hear from you.”
“I’ve missed you, yes. And maybe you miss me a little, too? I don’t go out in the boat so often now. I tell people it be because the fishin’ ain’t so good like it used to be, but maybe it’s just me and my boat, we’re gettin’ old.”
Zach’s eyes burned as he remembered the dark brown waters of the bayou and how he’d loved to watch the herons skim low late in the evening as the mist came up from the swamp.
“I’ve missed you, too, yes,” he said softly. “I didn’t know how much—until I heard your voice. It takes me back.”
Not all his memories of Bonne Terre were bad.
“So why don’t you come to Bonne Terre and see this old man before he falls off his shrimp boat and the crabs eat him?”
“I will.”
“We’ll go shrimpin’ just like old times.”
After some quick goodbyes, Zach hung up, feeling better than he had in a week.
Maybe it was time to go back to Bonne Terre.
Then he thought about the Louisiana girl he’d once loved—blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful Summer, with the sweet, innocent face and the big dreams. The girl who’d torn out his heart.
She lived in New York now, a Broadway actress. Unlike him, she was the press’s darling. Her pictures were everywhere.
Did she ever come home … to Bonne Terre?
Maybe it was time he found out.
One
Eight Months Later
Bonne Terre, Louisiana
Zach Torr was back in town, stirring up trouble for her, and because he was, a tumult of dark emotions consumed her.
Summer Wallace parked her rental car in front of Gram’s rambling, two-story home. Sighing because she dreaded the thought of tangling with her grandmother and her brother over Zach, she took her time gathering her bag, her purse and her briefcase. Then she saw the loose pages of her script on the floorboard and the slim white Bible she kept with her always. Picking them up, she jammed them into her briefcase.
When she finally slammed the door and headed toward the house she saw Silas, Gram’s black-and-white cat, napping in the warm shade beneath the crape myrtle.
“You lazy old thing.”
A gentle wind swayed in the dogwood and jasmine, carrying with it the steamy, aromatic scent of the pine forest that fringed her grandmother’s property. Not that Summer was in the mood to enjoy the lush, verdant, late-August beauty of her childhood home. No, she was walking through the sweltering heat toward a sure argument with Gram. About Zach, of all people.
Fifteen years ago, when she’d run away after her mother’s death, she’d felt sure he was out of her life forever.
Then Gram had called a week ago.
It had been late, and Summer had been dead on her feet from workshopping an important new play.
“You’ll never guess who’s making a big splash here in Bonne Terre, buying up property to develop into a casino,” Gram had said in a sly tone.
Gram had a habit of calling late and dropping her little bombs in a seemingly innocent way, so, wary, Summer had sunk into her favorite chair and curled up to await the explosion.
“And who do you think bought the old Thibodeaux place and hired your brother Tuck as his pool boy and all-around gopher?” her grandmother had asked.
Tuck had a job? This should have been good news. Gram had been worried about him after his latest run-in with Sheriff Arcenaux. But somehow Summer had known the news wouldn’t be good.
“Okay! Who?”
“Zach Torr.”
Summer had frozen. Her brother, who had poor judgment in nearly every area of his life, could not work for Zach, who couldn’t possibly have her family’s best interests at heart. Not after what had happened. Not when their names would be forever linked in the eyes of the media and, therefore, the world.
She’d become too famous and he too rich, and their tragic youthful love affair was too juicy. And every time the story was rehashed, it always surprised her how much it still hurt, even though she was seen as the innocent victim and he the villain.
From time to time, she’d read about how hard and cold he was now. She’d never forget the story about how ruthlessly he’d taken revenge on his stepmother.
Any new connection between Zach and her family was a disaster in the making.
“You’re not the only former resident of Bonne Terre who’s famous, you know.”
Summer’s breath had caught in her throat as she’d struggled to take the news in.
“Zach’s a billionaire now.”
Summer had already known that, of course. Everybody knew that.
“Even so, he’s not too busy to stop by to play Hearts with an old lady when he’s in town … or to tell me how Tuck’s doing on the job.”
Zach had been taking the time to play cards with Gram? To personally report on Tuck, his pool boy? This was bad.
“Gram, he’s just trying to get to me.”
“Maybe this isn’t about you. You two were finished fifteen years ago.”
Yes, it had been fifteen years. But it was about her. She was sure of it.
Summer had tried to make Gram understand why Tuck had to quit his job, but Gram, who’d been exasperated by all the stunts Tuck had pulled ever since high school, had refused to hear anything against Zach, whom she now saw as her knight in shining armor. Then she’d punched Summer’s guilt button.
“You
