Jessica Keller - The Widower's Second Chance

“On fire?” Maggie’s eyes grew big.

“Told you I smelled something.”

Maggie hugged the dress to her chest. “That poor woman.”

“That poor woman could have set your livelihood ablaze. Are you sure she’s safe? You know, right in the head? I’d hate to see you in trouble.” Caleb squeezed Maggie’s shoulder.

“She’s safe. I promise.”

He searched her face. “You’re the only sister-in-law I have.” He offered a small smile.

Maggie brushed his hand away. “I keep telling you—you don’t have to waste your life away worrying about little old me.”

Right. She knew too well. The last time he worried about someone it had caused Maggie a lot of heartache, too.

Even though her words sliced, he shrugged. “Other than Shelby, who else do I have to worry about?”

“Caleb.” She reached a hand toward him but let it drop to her side. “I didn’t mean to—”

No more pity. He couldn’t stand another person’s concerned eyes on him. That was the problem with a small town—everyone knew what had happened to his wife and treated him differently because of it.

“Sink’s fixed.” He plodded up the steps. “See you later.”

He didn’t bother gathering his tools from Maggie’s kitchen. She’d probably call him tomorrow with something else to patch at the inn. Not that he minded.

His sister, Shelby, might be waiting dinner on him at home. He checked his phone. No texts from her yet. He still had time.

Maybe he’d go shoot hoops at the school first.

* * *

Paige scoured mascara off her face so hard she left a red patch of skin.

What must Caleb think of her? Hopefully she’d never have to run into him again. If it came up in conversation she’d ask Maggie not to hire the same handyman next time or at least have Maggie warn her before she had him come for a job again. Facing him after she tossed herself into his arms would be nothing short of mortifying.

Okay. Let’s face it. She probably would see him again. Hadn’t he said he was friends with Maggie? More reason to find an apartment or home to rent somewhere else in town and soon as she could. That would be her first goal.

Paige let out a long breath of air.

Running away had never sounded like a good idea. But what else could she have done?

She sank onto the edge of the bed. This room was the size of Paige’s closet at her parents’ home, but in the same manner as the rest of the bed-and-breakfast, it was decorated like a charming English cottage. Good thing Principal Timmons had taken it upon himself to set up this living situation for her when he hired her last minute. And the owner, Maggie West, seemed nice enough. Although perhaps a little rough around the edges.

New starts were supposed to be exciting, right?

So why this heavy, hopeless feeling gnawing in the pit of her stomach?

Paige could hear Maggie in the kitchen, clanking spoons against bowls as she did prep work for tomorrow’s breakfast. What to do? Paige didn’t know anyone in the town of Goose Harbor, but going to bed before the sun went down seemed a little too desperate.

No, she needed to do something to clear her mind. Without wasting another minute, she snagged her gym shoes out of the closet and tugged them on. Paige wouldn’t go for a jog tonight, but she could scope out a trail to run for the next time she needed escape.

Maggie cleared her throat when Paige entered the kitchen.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” She wiped her hands on her green-checkered apron and gave Paige a sad smile.

“I’m guessing Caleb told you about my episode downstairs. I’m so sorry. That’s not like me. I promise I won’t act like that again.”

“Don’t even think about it. Believe me—men have done a number on my head one too many times to count. I guess that’s why I’m resigned to spinsterhood.” Maggie winked at her.

“Hardly. You’re what, my age?”

“I think a couple years older. Thirty-four, but let’s not go shouting that from the rooftops. You’re going to be okay, you know that, right?” Maggie grasped Paige’s hand, leaving some flour on her fingers.

“Sure. That’s why I’m here. Time for something new.” Paige tried to infuse life into her voice. She did like learning new things, and with her upbringing, she had so much to learn. But right now, it was the circumstances behind the uprooting of her life that dampened everything.

Maggie went back to punching a wad of dough on the counter. “I hung your dress up downstairs.”

“Thanks.” Paige touched her fingers to the couple of hair ties she always stored on her wrist. “Do you need help preparing anything? I don’t know a lot about cooking, but I’m willing to learn.”

“No need. I’m almost done for tonight. But I appreciate the offer.” Maggie rubbed the back of her hand on her forehead, leaving more flour.

“Well, if you ever need me to, I do know one recipe for scones that I could make some time. It’s about the only thing I know how to do in the kitchen.” Paige laid her hand on the doorknob that led to the public section of the inn.

“I’ll probably take you up on that at some point.”

“Anytime. I’m going to go out for a little while.” Paige walked through the door that led to the hotel portion of the bed-and-breakfast.

The common dining area boasted a large crystal chandelier that Maggie had told her was original to the mansion. The front parlor was rich with Persian carpets, flowered wallpaper, a grand piano and a stone fireplace surrounded by antique furniture. A towering grandfather clock ticked off the seconds as she passed by the grand, deep maroon carpeted staircase.

A bell tinkled as she pushed open the front door. She walked quickly down the sidewalk, passing her Mazda and the sign proclaiming: West Oaks Inn Bed-and-Breakfast.

Paige glanced over her shoulder at the Victorian mansion. Built in the Queen Anne style, sage clapboard gave way to pink-painted details and intricately carved wooden embellishments. Giant oak trees formed a line of soldiers up the driveway, protecting and shadowing the property. Cinderella might as well live there.

Too bad glass-slipper dreams only came true in storybooks.

Paige swung her arms, making herself walk faster.

Smaller homes on wide yards dotted the outskirts of the town. Even the most insignificant house here had more personality than any house found in the Chicago suburbs she had grown up in. Each one seemed to have a story—with a hundred years of history to be told.

Maybe this new start in Goose Harbor was all she needed. A fresh start. A new home.

No, not home. Nothing could ever feel like home again.

Leaving Illinois and all the dreams she’d clutched since childhood hadn’t been easy. But staying meant seeing him—being reminded of him. Staying hadn’t been a viable option.

At the bend in the road, the canopy of trees broke and the residential properties became closer together. Fresh Lake Michigan air mingled with the smell of someone barbecuing. Like giant sleeping bears, sand dunes hulked on both sides of the road. The anchoring trees grew through the shifting soil and hooded the road, only allowing slivers of sunlight to skip across her face when she turned onto Lake Front Drive.

A large town square made up the bustling portion of Goose Harbor. In the middle of the square was a large grassy area complete with a red band shell, a few park benches, a white gazebo and a small rose garden. A short distance from the square lay Ring Beach—named for the almost perfect half circle of soft sand that lined the shorefront. The calm, shallow waters at Ring Beach drew thousands of visitors to Goose Harbor every summer.

On the road, traffic slowed to a halt as a crop of buildings came into view. End-of-the-summer vacationers crowded the brick sidewalks that made up the downtown portion of Goose Harbor, clogging the roadways as they filtered between the homemade fudge shops, art galleries, unique mom-and-pop stores, ice-cream parlors and quaint restaurants built on stilts over the pier section of the waterfront. Women in high heels clip-clopped out of the way of darting children as old men sat watching the world go by from wooden benches lining the dock. White masts bobbed in the marina.