Helen Brenna - Redemption at Mirabelle

This situation was unacceptable. There was no way she would spend her days—days she needed to figure out what she would do now that her life had imploded—with children.

She spun around to confront her parent who had put her in this predicament. “Are you out of your mind, Mother?”

“No.” Angelica grinned. “What I am is damned happy to have purpose to my days. It’s not the editor job, but it’s something to keep me busy while we’re here, and those children need someone. So does their father. The kids, I can help with. The man?” She stared at Marin. “I’ll bet he’d take your mind off Colin.”

“He has kids, Mother.”

“No one said you had to marry him, Marin.”

Dear Reader,

It seems like yesterday that Mirabelle Island started taking shape in my mind. A glimpse of a storefront here, a horse-drawn carriage there. A stately Victorian or lonesome lighthouse. A colorful marina or rocky beach on the shores of Lake Superior. There were times I had to remind myself that Mirabelle wasn’t real.

Unfortunately, every miniseries must come to an end. And so, it is with this seventh An Island to Remember book I say goodbye to the place and the people that have filled my thoughts and dreams for almost four years. Mirabelle and its islanders will always be in my heart, and who knows? Another story or two might pop up down the road. For now, though, it’s onward and upward as a new town and new characters fill my thoughts. Right now I’m thinking about three brothers, their best friend and the town they call home. After all, romance is always about the heroes for me! Stay tuned for more details.

I love hearing from readers, and you can contact me at helenbrenna@comcast.net.

My best,

Helen Brenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Helen Brenna grew up in central Minnesota, the seventh of eight children. Although she never dreamed of writing books, she’s always been a voracious reader. So after taking a break from her accounting career to be an at-home mom, she tried her hand at writing the romances she loves to read. Since she was first published in 2007, her books have won many awards, including a Romance Writer’s of America’s prestigious RITA® Award, an RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice, a HOLT Medallion, a Book Buyers Best and a National Readers’ Choice Award.

Helen lives happily ever after with her family in Minnesota. She’d love hearing from you. Email her at helenbrenna@comcast.net, visit her website at www.helenbrenna.com or chat with Helen and other authors at Riding With The Top Down.

For Paul Twomey

Thanks, little bro, for walking in the rain!

Thanks to fellow writer and editor, Sarah Tieck, for her friendship, always supportive critique advice, and insight into the children’s book publishing business. You make every day brighter!

And thanks to my editor, Johanna Raisanen, for her editorial insight with all my books and this story in particular.

You help me make every book better!

You guys are the best, Helen

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

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

EPILOGUE

THE ONLY DIFFERENCE BETWEEN Mirabelle and Adam Harding’s life was that this island would be good as gold by Christmas. Maybe that’s why there was nothing he liked better than a good, old-fashioned natural disaster—tornadoes, floods, hurricanes. As long as no lives had been lost in the happening.

He could fix roofs and replace windows, repair roads and replant trees, putting everything right again. It’s what he did best. He fixed things. That’s why the folks here on Mirabelle had hired him, to get their town, their businesses and their lives back on track.

As a gentle, late summer breeze laden with dust blew from the interior of the island out toward Lake Superior, Adam glanced up and down Main Street, taking note of his team’s progress in cleaning up after the tornado that had ripped across this island. When he’d first arrived, shattered glass, crumbling bricks, torn shingles, shredded awnings and twisted lampposts, as well as the remnants of uprooted trees and broken branches, had been scattered this way and that across town. Unfortunately, there was still much to be done before any rebuilding could start.

“This cleanup isn’t happening fast enough,” Adam said, addressing his crew. He could mollycoddle with the best of them, but every once in a while a man needed a swift kick in the rear to make something happen. “Initial supplies are getting dropped off in the a.m. That means no one leaves tonight until this place is ready for the shipment. Understand?”

“It would’ve been a hell of a lot easier getting rid of all this debris if we’d brought a couple of our semiloaders over on a barge, and drove them right up that pier and onto the island,” said Ray Worley, one of several operations foremen. “We’d have had this whole place cleaned up in a couple days.”

“And in the process we’d have destroyed all of Mirabelle’s cobblestone,” Adam said, staring pointedly at his foreman as he referred to the street below his feet. He made eye contact with as many of his crew as he could. “Every job we’ve ever done has had its own special problems and opportunities,” he said softly. “One of the objectives on this island is to do no more damage while we’re here. Tread lightly. Be respectful of Mirabelle’s history. Understand?”

The men nodded, most of them having been with him for years. They understood he took pride in making good on his promises, and that’s why his company had one of the finest reputations in the country for restoring towns devastated by natural disasters.

“I’ve promised these people that we’ll have their island up and running before Christmas, and they’ve put their lives in our hands. Let’s get this done.”

His cleanup crew dispersed, a small team, relatively speaking. In a couple days, the real work would start and his main construction crew would be crawling in full force all over this island.

“Ray,” Adam called.

“Yeah.”

“In the past, you’ve disagreed on occasion with my messages to the men, and I’ve asked you to voice your objections in private,” Adam said quietly. He didn’t get angry, and he never raised his voice. He simply stated his expectations, and if those expectations weren’t met then there would be consequences. “Contradict what I say one more time in front of anyone, and you’re fired.”

“Yes, sir.”

Adam turned away, felt the heat of the man’s irate stare on his back and impassively headed to his trailer set up on the street bordering the city park. He’d positioned his mobile office in about as centrally located a position as he could get while still being able to survey most of main street Mirabelle on which he and his crew would be focusing their efforts. There’d been some minor damage out at the Rock Pointe Lodge resort, up on the golf course and at Mirabelle Stable and Livery, but the rest of the mayhem wrought by the tornado had been concentrated in the village center.