Hometown Girl

  Table of Contents

  PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR “Walsh has penned another endearing novel set in Loves Park, Colo. The emotions are occasionally raw, but always truly real. Readers will root for the characters to discover their potential and realize that love is right in front of them. It takes a little long to get to the point, but the journey is enjoyable.” —RT Reviews, **** “Walsh (A Sweethaven Summer) pens a quaint, smalltown love story, complete with an overbearing mother, an unscrupulous business partner, and a group of busybodies whose hearts are in the right place even if their actions are questionable. While certain elements are predictable, Walsh develops enough plot twists to make this enjoyable to the end.” —Publishers Weekly “Heartwarming! Paper Hearts is as much a treat as the delicious coffee the heroine serves in her bookshop. Courtney Walsh’s warm author’s voice tells a story of a doctor and a bookstore owner, both living in a town centered on romance, yet both disillusioned by love. Like the m

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  ALSO BY COURTNEY WALSH Just Look Up Paper Hearts Change of Heart A Sweethaven Summer A Sweethaven Homecoming A Sweethaven Christmas A Sweethaven Romance

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2017 by Courtney Walsh All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Waterfall Press, Grand Haven, MI. www.brilliancepublishing.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Waterfall Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781542045636 ISBN-10: 1542045630 Cover design by Janet Perr

  For my dear friend Natalie Emenecker, with whom I share a love of Jesus, kids, theatre and romance. And who was gracious enough to share the name of her family farm for my fictional purposes in writing this book. Your real-life Fairwind Farm is full of the peace and simplicity this old soul needs. Thank you for sharing it with me and for being my friend.

  CONTENTS 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 Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One AUTHOR’S NOTE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One Beth Whitaker hated flowers. Sure, they were pretty, and some of them even smelled good. The right assortment could dress up a dinner table, and she could appreciate how each one was different. But flowers were a sign of weakness. And death. People brought flowers to gravesites and hospital rooms. One of her earliest memories was being pulled out of kindergarten to attend her great-grandmother’s funeral. She didn’t remember the way Grandma had looked in the casket or who else had been there, but she distinctly remembered the smell of the flowers. It was the same smell that had filled Mom’s hospital room ten months ago. Floral sympathy left as sour a taste in her mouth as floral courtship. Pining over some man, waiting for him to bring flowers for no reason. Weakness. Now Beth sat in the small exam room, waiting for Dr. Berry to check on her mother. The checkup they’d been waiting for, the one that told them her mom had recovered from her stroke. But Beth knew better. After

  Chapter Two “My horse won’t go faster.” The whine seeped under Drew Barlow’s skin. He’d led a lot of trail rides, and he could usually tolerate the complaining, but if this kid dug his heels into Juniper’s sides one more time . . . “The horse isn’t supposed to go faster, kid,” Drew said. “She’s trained to stay behind mine.” “This is boring.” Drew blew out a stream of hot air. He took in a fresh breath and cast his eyes toward the Rockies. There. That was the reason he stayed on at the dude ranch every year. That and the seclusion of the off months. “Are we almost done? My horse is broken.” Lucky for the kid, they were almost done. Otherwise, Drew might’ve swatted Juniper on the backside and sent her off to show him how not-boring horseback riding could be. Up the hill and around the bend, Elkhorn Ranch came into sight. Elkhorn had been his home now for four years, and the owners, Doug and Cheryl McClain, liked Drew so much they made room for him year-round. He didn’t make much money, b

  Chapter Three The following day, Beth arrived at work promptly at 8:00 a.m., same as always. She’d worked at Whitaker Mowers throughout high school, but she’d never expected to stay around Willow Grove after college. After she’d been passed over for a job in the city, she’d graduated and come back home to get her bearings. Then she’d found out about Michael. Her dad had reluctantly made room for her at Whitaker—to proofread ad copy, get coffee and restock the office supplies. By all accounts, she was a glorified secretary. He’d been against the idea from the start. “She needs to move past this or it’s going to define her,” she’d overheard him telling her mother. “She should move into the city and find a job there. Willow Grove is too small for someone like Beth.” He’d wanted so much more for her. More than struggling as a starving artist. More than a small, simple life. Never mind that he’d chosen this life after years of working in downtown Chicago himself. Somehow, he’d convinced her

  Chapter Four Whitaker family meetings were reserved for important family events. Dad’s will. Mom’s care. Their trusts. They weren’t typically called to discuss individual life events, but the day after Molly had summoned her to Fairwind Farm, Beth decided to call their oldest brother, Ben, to get everything out in the open. Ben rarely made it back to Willow Grove. After his career in professional baseball had ended, he’d made a life in the city—and he didn’t like the attention he got when he was home. But this was an emergency, and Beth needed his support. “Is it too much to hope you’ve called this meeting to tell me you’re in on my new plan?” Molly’s eyes practically sparkled with expectation. “I told you it wasn’t likely I’d change my mind.” Beth pulled two cans of beans from the cupboard. Molly stared at her sister. “Why do I feel like you tattled on me?” “I didn’t tattle, Molly. I just thought it would be good to have Ben’s input.” “And mine.” Their mom sat at the table with an afg

  Chapter Five Butler’s Bake Shop sat smack at the center of downtown Willow Grove. On either side of Town Hall Road, visitors perused boutiques, antiques and historical buildings. Cafés and sweet shops, like the old-fashioned ice cream parlor on the corner, drew tourists in from the city and beyond. But the locals preferred Butler’s. It was quaint without being overly charming, the kind of place the hometown crowd could appreciate. And for Beth, Butler’s was chock-full of memories. Being the best friend of the owners’ daughter, she’d practically grown up sitting on the last bar stool, closest to the kitchen, a plate of freshly made french fries between her and Callie. They’d watch Callie’s parents, JimBob and Verna Butler, maneuver their way from the kitchen to the main floor, chatting up their loyal patrons. If Beth didn’t know better, she’d almost think JimBob and Verna had no interest in appealing to tourists. They’d done little to keep the place updated, and they didn’t even have a

  Chapter Six When Drew had wandered into Butler’s Bake Shop, he’d hoped for a quiet breakfast to collect his thoughts. He quickly realized he’d picked the wrong place for that. According to the town go
ssips, Fairwind had already been sold. Worse, it had been sold to two nostalgic sisters who wanted to restore the old place and “give the town back their farm.” For a minute, he’d almost felt like he’d been at a Save Our Farm rally, the way they were carrying on. But all he could see was the potential for danger. The idea of Fairwind reopening, bringing in busloads of unsupervised children, set something off inside him. Panic? Everyone seemed intent on remembering Fairwind before tragedy had hit. Had they all blocked out the reason the farm eventually went under? He found Roxie patiently waiting for him in the passenger seat of his truck. “You wanna walk, girl?” He hooked a leash onto her collar, much to her dismay. “Sorry, Rox. City rules are different than country rules.” As if he could

  Chapter Seven Beth sat at her desk, latte in front of her, and prepared for another monotonous day at Whitaker Mowers. She didn’t often stop by Butler’s on her way to work, and she certainly didn’t drive to the office by way of Fairwind Farm, but after the week she’d had, she’d wanted to indulge herself a little. Instead, she’d been accosted by craziness. Darren Sanders, her father’s right-hand man, strolled through the office and stopped at her door. “Beth. You got a minute?” She glanced down at the sketch she’d been absentmindedly doodling in her notebook. The hand-drawn image of a large farmhouse with a wraparound porch stared back at her. Surely she’d lost her mind. “Sure.” He closed her door and sat down across from her. “How are you?” She’d been fine before he walked in, but now she felt uneasy. In all the years she’d been working at Whitaker, Darren had never once sat down in her office. “I’m fine, sir.” “Mother’s doing better, I hear?” “She’s recovering, yes.” “Good.” He looked

  Chapter Eight Drew ran at breakneck speed down the hill and into the barn. He could hear Jess behind him, laughing. “I’m gonna get you, Drew Barlow!” She’d never find him in here. She hated climbing the wobbly old ladder. The smell of hay and earth met him, but he barely noticed. Ran for the ladder and pulled himself up into the loft, where he ducked out of sight and waited for her to appear in the doorway below. At the sight of her shadow, he ducked lower, peering down at her from behind the bales of hay. “Drew, no fair! You know I don’t like this barn.” He stifled a laugh. He had her now. No way she’d win this time. She moved through the dusty space, searching in each stall, and then he heard it. A car door right outside. “Drew?” Fear echoed in Jess’s voice. Another shadow appeared in the doorway, and Drew stood. “I’m up here, Jess.” He rushed down. Before he could reach her, something came at him from behind, knocked him to the ground. The smell of hay and earth filled his nose agai

  Chapter Nine Beth stood in front of the crowd that had gathered in the old barn, looking out over a sea of friendly, excited faces. She wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her jeans, realizing she was more nervous than she should be. She’d lived in Willow Grove her entire life. Most of these people had known her that long—but maybe that was part of what made her pulse race. Would anyone take them seriously if they’d known them when they were little kids running around the playground at Page Park? Worse, what about the people (person) who didn’t know her then? What was Mr. Handsome from the diner doing here? He sat in the back row, quiet, unassuming. She could feel him watching her, studying her. It made her feel wobbly. “He’s totally into you,” Molly said as she passed behind her. “Will you stop it?” Beth waved her off. “We need to start.” “You’re the pro.” Molly motioned for Beth to take the stage. “His name’s Drew, by the way.” Beth glared at her. “Focus.” They’d been up almost th

  Chapter Ten Outside, Drew watched as people gathered rakes and hoes and trash cans from their cars, each moving purposefully toward whatever task they’d been assigned. He’d slipped out without a job, not quite ready to sign on to anything until he saw the old place for himself. Fairwind had changed. Twenty years, what did he expect? Behind the main barn, he could see the roofs of the outbuildings, outlined by trees whose leaves had filled out nicely for spring. He walked the same path he’d walked so many times as a boy, only this time he walked it alone. All those years ago, Jess had been right on his heels. “Keep an eye on her, Drew,” his dad had called after them. Drew had waved to let them know he’d heard. Of course he’d keep an eye on her; they weren’t interested in anyone else on the farm—and he needed Jess to remind him where the best fishing spots were. That’s how they’d spent their days. Fishing in the lake. Catching grasshoppers. Hide-and-seek. Bonfires. Everything had seemed

  Chapter Eleven Why did she even bother? Beth trudged back to the barn, feeling like an idiot for trying to talk to Mr. Fix-It at all. He obviously had the conversational skills of a monkey, but she’d kept asking him questions, as if at some point he’d quit with the perfunctory answers and actually share something about himself. Beth made her way to where the crowd had started to gather around the food. They hadn’t even rung a bell or anything; just the smell of the burgers lured people in from all different parts of the farm. Callie met her by one of the food tables, eyes wide, waiting for some explanation. She’d been the one to talk Beth into taking Drew the plate in the first place. So this was her fault, really. Beth felt stupid. A serial killer? Really? Just because he was grumpy and reclusive didn’t mean he was a sociopath. And even though she’d been half kidding, her sarcasm seemed lost in his reaction. “No-go?” Callie followed her into the kitchen. “What do you mean?” Beth reach

  Chapter Twelve Beth’s body was tired, but her mind worked overtime. The Community Work Day had come together quickly, and she hadn’t sat down once. Her feet and back ached, and even though she’d washed her hands three times, there was still dirt underneath her fingernails. The day had been a success. It was clear that, somehow, she and Molly had sparked a ripple of excitement in the hearts of the people of Willow Grove. However, it was also clear they were in way over their heads. And that continued to nag her. Ben’s ultimatum hung thick in the crisp night air above the bonfire, where several people huddled under blankets, toasting marshmallows and enjoying the songs strummed on Bishop’s guitar. Beth settled into the quiet away from the crowd as Molly attempted to wave her over. When Beth didn’t respond, her sister strolled her way. “You’re missing all the fun,” she said. “I know,” Beth admitted. “Come hang out. Pretend you don’t have anything to worry about.” Molly grabbed her hand an

  Chapter Thirteen Sunday morning came hard and fast. Before Beth even opened her eyes, she could feel that the aches in her feet and back had traveled to all of her extremities. She did her best work behind a desk at a computer, not in a field hauling branches bigger than her. She rolled over and let out a slight groan. “Stinks to be out of shape, doesn’t it?” Beth opened her eyes to find her sister standing in her room with two steaming mugs of coffee that smelled like heaven. “What are you doing up so early? And in my room? And dressed up?” “It’s Sunday. Church.” Beth rolled over. It had been their tradition for as long as she could remember, but somehow she’d thought she might get a free pass today—she wasn’t sure she could move. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Obviously her sister had other plans. Ever since Beth had moved back in with their mom, Molly had insisted on coming over early every Sunday morning. Even when their mother was nearly immobile, they found a way to cart her to ch

  Chapter Fourteen Beth went to Whitaker Mowers Sunday afternoon and cleaned out her office, quietly leaving a resignation letter on Darren’s desk. As she closed the door behind her for the last time, she was struck by an unexpected sense of freedom—not sadness—that she wouldn’t be back. After her time in the chapel, she felt more willing to jump into this renovation project with both feet . . . even if it wasn’t the smart thing to do. Once she’d finished dinner that night, she and Molly retreated to Beth’s room and ran through the “what was next” of the whole project, clarifying their roles and talking through their plans. “How involved are you wanting me to be here? Do you want me to be a silent partner and just give you money?” Beth asked, surprised to find herself hoping
that wasn’t what her sister wanted. “No way.” Molly propped herself up on her elbows. “I want you to manage the whole project. You’re the business mind. I’m just the looks.” She sprawled out and purposely gave hersel

  Chapter Fifteen Drew practically ran away from Beth, away from the house, away from the past. He’d seen the old barn in his dreams the night before. He could smell it, and when he’d woken that morning, a torrent of anger flooded his mind. Why couldn’t he remember? What couldn’t he see? He’d spent hours sweeping and cleaning it out Saturday, and it had done nothing to stir the old memories. Today, walking through the woods, the barn seemed to call his name, begging him to come in for one more try. Foolishly, he thought the past would give him the answers he’d been waiting for. But as he stood there, begging for the truth, his mind was blank. Too much time had passed. He’d felt like an idiot for trying. Why did he think he would ever find closure? In that moment, he’d considered leaving. He could get in his truck and drive back to Colorado. It would be like he’d never even come. But something had gotten ahold of him—something wouldn’t let him leave. So, he took the job. If he had any hop

  Chapter Sixteen “A sheep, Molly?” Beth stormed toward the farmhouse and followed Molly inside. “What were you thinking?” “I was thinking this is a farm. It needs animals.” Molly leaned against the kitchen counter. She ignored the piles of dishes behind her, which Beth had pulled out of the cupboards for damage assessment. “We agreed we weren’t going to make any decisions without consulting each other,” Beth said. “That’s the only way this can work.” She pulled her yellow dish gloves back on and knelt down in front of the fridge. Molly sighed. “I got a really good deal on her. I couldn’t pass it up.” “How do you know what constitutes a ‘good deal’ on a sheep?” Beth took her frustration out on a nasty stain in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator. She’d moved her cleaning efforts indoors when she realized she didn’t have the muscle strength to do any good outside. “She was free. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal.” “What are we going to do with a sheep?” Molly reached into the Butler’s b