Heartsong Cottage (3 page)

He disconnected the call and returned his phone to his pocket. He still wanted to talk to his family, but leaving a message worked out okay, he decided. Gail would give him credit for having called, but he'd be spared having to break the news to her. A win-win.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to take her flowers when he went home. Something bright and cheerful. Sunflowers, maybe. Gail always went gooey over flowers.

Then they could celebrate life, and if his good luck held just a little longer, make a new one.

His fist closed around Batman, and he subconsciously brought it to his mouth and kissed it as a patrol screeched to a halt in front of him. A wild-eyed woman vaulted from the backseat, and Daniel watched the reunion of mother and daughter with a lump in his throat. To be part of this … even though they had yet to catch Joker … all in all … “A good day.”

His phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. His eyes on a toddler's puffy pink jacket, he answered saying, “Garrett.”

His wife's panicked, fear-filled, and babbling voice chilled his soul. “I can't find Justin! Oh, God, Daniel. Somebody stole our son!”

*   *   *

Four days later, a jogger discovered Justin Garrett's battered and abused body in a pumpkin field two hours away from the mall. Seven months after that, Daniel returned home from work to find his wife dead from an overdose of sleeping pills.

That evening, Daniel threw his Kevlar vest off the Tobin Bridge, wishing he had the courage to jump in after it.

 

Chapter Two

PRESENT DAY

ETERNITY SPRINGS, COLORADO

The woman known as Shannon O'Toole around town reached for the flathead screwdriver in her toolbox just as her cell phone chimed an alarm. Almost eleven o'clock already? Where had the morning gone? She had hoped to work her way a lot farther down her to-do list by now.

“So what else is new?” she murmured as she flipped her toolbox closed. She could multitask with the best of them, but the commitment to renovate this two-bedroom dollhouse of a Victorian on Pinion Street in addition to operating Murphy's Pub and teaching yoga classes had filled her plate to overflowing. Yet, staying busy was good. It kept her sane and solvent—both of which were important to a woman in her circumstances.

In her postage stamp of a kitchen, she filled two glasses with ice and peppermint tea. She placed them and a tin filled with Fresh bakery's strawberry pinwheel cookies onto a tray and carried it outside. Setting the tray atop the flat surface of a plywood-and-sawhorse workbench, she retrieved a pair of folding lawn chairs from where they leaned against the side of the house. As she dusted grass clippings from the chairs' webbing, her cell phone rang. She pulled it from the pocket of her jeans and answered without checking the number. “Hello?”

Silence.

A shiver of apprehension skidded down her spine.
No. Please, no. Not again.

In a flash, she was back in her Denver apartment staring at the object lying atop the lavender-colored pillow sham on her bed—fuzzy and tan with tufts of white stuffing. A teddy bear's arm. Then, back to Austin and a yellow bedspread and the bear's leg. Nashville, another arm.

Her room at Stanford and the empty bed where the bear belonged.

Fear yawned in the pit of her stomach. Her pulse began to pound.
Just when I begin to hope …

As she yanked the phone away from her ear to check the number, she heard her closest friend, Rose Cicero, the town physician, say, “Shannon? I'm sorry. That was a butt dial. I'm at work today and had my phone in the pocket of my lab coat and a toddler in my arms.”

“No problem,” Shannon replied, relief washing over her, clean and sweet as a summer rain.

She ended the call a little weak-kneed and annoyed with herself. She knew better than to answer her phone without checking the number first. Letting down her guard was one thing; acting carelessly, something else entirely. She felt safe here in Eternity Springs, but she had felt safe in other places, too, hadn't she?

“Be smart. Be aware. Be alive,” she murmured, repeating her personal mantra. If she didn't live, she lost. If she didn't live, he won. Unacceptable. “So get back to living and pick your paint.”

It was the next item on her agenda—trim paint. If she stood a shot at finishing and flipping this house by Halloween, she needed to choose a color today.

It was proving to be a difficult task. With previous renovation projects, she'd known exactly what she wanted when it came to paint. This time she struggled to choose between two shades of red and a bright, sunshine yellow to contrast the creamy white of the siding. So an hour ago, she'd phoned for the help of a color expert, her friend and renowned artist Sage Rafferty. Sage had jumped at the opportunity for a distraction and offered to visit at eleven—provided she hadn't gone into labor.

A glance down the block revealed the heavily pregnant Sage waddling toward Shannon's house. When she drew near, Shannon said, “You look miserable.”

“I am miserable.” Sage grimaced as she tucked a stray strand of wavy auburn hair behind her ear. “I honestly believed I'd have this baby early, but now I'm three days late. I'm having nightmares of going into labor at Gabi and Flynn's wedding.”

Shannon eyed her friend's enormous belly doubtfully. “Surely you won't last that long. The wedding's still a week away.”

“You wouldn't think so, but knowing my luck…” Sage rubbed the small of her back and nodded toward the house. “Let's change the subject and talk color. Color makes me happy. I can't tell you how much your phone call this morning cheered me. You gave me something fun to focus on rather than the noneventful state of my uterus. So, how can I be of assistance?”

“Help me settle on a trim color, please.” She pulled a stack of scrap wood from beneath her workbench and carried the three painted pieces toward the house. After lining them up against the cream-colored siding, she rejoined Sage. “I cannot make up my mind.”

Sage pursed her lips and studied the display. “All three of those colors are lovely.”

“That's precisely the problem. I know that color preference is as individual as a favorite ice cream flavor, but in this particular instance, I need to appeal to the widest range of potential buyers possible. At the same time, I need to make this place stand out.”

“Are you worried about selling it?” Sage asked, nodding when Shannon silently offered her a glass of tea.

“A little. Flipping houses is not for the faint of heart, especially when you're trying to do it in a small town. I had planned to have the house finished before tourist season ended, but I fell behind schedule because I put in longer hours at the pub this summer than I expected.”

Both women took seats in the lawn chairs. Sage chose a cookie to nibble at and observed, “Murphy's Pub's new patio is the bomb.”

Shannon smiled. One of a handful of buildings in town that dated back to Eternity Springs' early days in the 1880s, the pub had seen both glory days where it served as a central gathering place for citizens and long stretches of time when the vast majority of visitors walked on four legs and sported tails. But Murphy's had good bones, something she'd seen on her first walk-through following her arrival in Eternity Springs. Bringing it back to life hadn't been as difficult a job as she'd first anticipated. It helped that a strong demand existed for a family-friendly watering hole in the growing town. “The patio's popularity caught me by surprise, I'll admit. Had I known how successful the project would prove to be, I'd have planned this one differently.”

“How close are you to being finished here?”

“At least a month. Maybe six weeks. The kitchen is still a mess.”

“So it won't hit the market until after tourist season,” Sage said, nodding in understanding. “When traffic in town drops way down.”

“Exactly. That's why I'm so concerned about color.” Shannon's teeth tugged her lower lip as she studied the painted boards. “Ordinarily I'd go for the gentler red because it suits the neighborhood best. But instead of selling to drive-by tourists, I expect my buyer will have found it on the Internet, so I really need it to pop out in a photo. The yellow or hotter red might work better. What do you think?”

“Hmm…” Sage idly rubbed her glorious belly as she studied the house. “Will you plant flowers this late in the season?”

“Yes. Gabe said he'd trade a planting plan and labor for yoga classes for Nic.” Gabe Callahan was a local businessman who'd trained as a landscape architect; Nic, his wife, was the town's veterinarian. Their twin daughters would be second-graders this fall.

“You are the barter queen of Eternity Springs,” Sage responded, her tone warm with admiration. “Do any of your yoga students actually pay cash?”

Shannon taught yoga three mornings a week, and considering her particular situation, she'd found that barter worked very well for her. “A few. I haven't managed a local source for my nursery needs, though, but I'm working on it. I'll—”

She broke off abruptly upon seeing the startled look on her friend's face. “Not your kind of nursery, Sage. Flowers. Shrubs. Grass seed.”

“Oh. Of course. I have babies on the brain.” She paused, then added, “That said, if you're interested in a local source for my kind of nursery…”

“I own the only pub in town,” Shannon pointed out. “My cup runneth over with local sources offering to fill that particular need.”

Not that she ever took them up on the offers. Shannon wasn't one to sleep around, and she couldn't in good conscience begin a relationship with a man when reality meant she might have to pick up and leave town at a moment's notice. Walking away from things like houses or businesses was one thing; doing it to a man she cared about enough to sleep with was something else entirely.

“I know you get hit on all the time. I've watched it happen when Colt and I are at Murphy's. Besides, men are suckers for big brown soulful eyes. But Colt has a friend—”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “So back to color choice?”

“I suggest you go with the spicy red. This is such a darling house, and I think red adds an air of romance.”

Romance. Hmm. Shannon eyed the cottage with the word in mind. Sage was right. With all the gingerbread painted red, and with the right shutters, it could look like a valentine. “I could add a few cutesy heart touches to drive the point home. I hadn't thought of that.”

Just showed how far away any idea of romance was from her thoughts.

“That would be darling. You could come up with a name for the house … Love-something Cottage.”

A name popped into Shannon's brain like an angel's whisper.
Heartsong Cottage.

“I like it,” she murmured. In her mind's eye, she saw a heart-shaped address sign hanging from an iron bracket. The theme fit perfectly with the red, white, and black color scheme she'd been considering for the kitchen. She would redesign the mosaic tile backsplash she had planned. Do something with hearts. “It's a great idea. It will give me something to market. You're a genius, Sage.”

“Thank you. As a reward for my brilliance, I think I'll have another cookie. If ever a woman needs to indulge herself, it's in the last few days of pregnancy.” As Sage chose another pinwheel from the plate, motion across the street caught her attention. “Speaking of romance … did I hear correctly that you threw that pair out of Murphy's last night because they were indulging in an overly enthusiastic PDA?”

The pair to whom she referred was Gabi Romano, gorgeous in a feminine green sundress, and her fiancé, Flynn Brogan, who wore faded jeans, a blue chambray shirt, and the air of a happy man.

“I don't know that I'd term that particular public display of affection as ‘overly enthusiastic,'” Shannon replied with a smirk. “I'd go for ‘toe-curling.' Maybe even ‘combustible.' But the couple in question involved a different tall, dark Romano. Not Gabi, but Lucca. He was extremely happy when the Rockies won the game in extra innings, and he displayed said happiness by kissing his wife. And kissing her. And kissing her.”

Amusement lit Sage's eyes and she clapped her hand against her breast in exaggerated drama. “You threw our kindergarten teacher out of the pub?”

“Not because of the kiss. I told him he had to leave because his mother called looking for one of her boys. She had a broken pipe at Aspenglow Place and needed help.”

“Ah.”

Flynn spied them and waved, then gave Gabi's hand a tug and the pair crossed the street.

Gabi was on a phone call, and as they approached, Shannon heard her say, “I know, Mom. It'll be okay. I promise. The world won't end if one of my cousins can't make it to the wedding. Now, if one of my brothers comes down with chicken pox during this next week, it'll be another story. You quit worrying and enjoy your lunch. Tell Celeste I said hi. I'll see you both at the community center at two.”

She ended the call and dropped her phone into the straw purse hanging at her side. She greeted her friends, her gaze lingering on Sage's stomach. She sadly shook her head. “Sage Rafferty, you'd better get a move on or I'm going to lose the baby pool.”

“You picked today, too?” Shannon asked. “I have eleven o'clock tonight.”

“Yes. Six
P.M.
, seven pounds, three ounces.”

“I'm already out of the hunt.” Flynn shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I picked last week.”

Sage sighed dramatically. “I like the way you think, Flynn. My fear is that Colt will be the one who guessed correctly. He bet on your wedding day.”

“Now, that's just mean.” Gabi gave Sage's hand a sympathetic squeeze.

“Speaking of weddings,” Shannon said. “How are things going? Is everything close to being ready?”