She’d planned to do some cleaning and then take the children into town to pick up some groceries. A quick inventory of the cupboards had yielded a few cans of soup and a box of macaroni and cheese. Fortunately, Abby had insisted Jenna take a basket of homemade cinnamon rolls and a quiche with her when they’d left the lodge, so breakfast had been covered.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call first.” Kate set Tori down on the floor. “We wanted to surprise you.”
We?
As if on cue, a young woman with a cap of cherry-cola curls trudged into the cabin, a colorful plastic tote gripped in each hand.
“’Morning, Jenna!”
Jenna recognized the visitor immediately. Zoey Decker and her fiancé, Matthew Wilde, were close friends of the O’Hallorans and had dropped by the inn to visit while Jenna and the children were staying there.
The couple planned to exchange their vows at the inn on Christmas Eve, and Abby was in charge of the event.
“Zoey.” Jenna greeted her cautiously.
“I hope we’re not too early,” Zoey sang out, and in the next breath, “Where do you want this stuff?” The question was directed at Kate, who pointed to the kitchen.
Jenna’s gaze cut back to the woman clearly in charge of the operation. “What’s going on?”
“A housewarming party,” Kate said.
“You provide the house, we provide the party.” Zoey swept past her with a grin.
Kate saw Jenna’s confusion and took pity on her. “We’re here to help you spruce things up a bit. Stanley Lambert, the guy who owns this cabin, is one of my regulars at the cafe and he let it sit empty for years. I figured if he hasn’t updated his wardrobe for forty years, chances are he hasn’t done anything to this place, either.”
While Jenna was recovering from the shock of the unexpected invasion, the screen door swung open again. Warm, blue-gray eyes peered at Jenna over an enormous picnic basket. The fingers of one hand fanned a greeting.
“Emma Sutton.” Kate took charge of the introductions this time. “This is Jenna Gardner—Logan and Tori’s aunt.” She smiled at Jenna. “You already met Emma’s husband, Jake.”
“Hi.” Emma flashed a friendly smile.
Sutton. The police chief. Jenna searched the woman’s face but didn’t see a hint of judgment that she’d met Jake under less than ideal circumstances. He was the one who’d called Grace Eversea the night that Shelly had started the fire.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she murmured.
Emma set the picnic basket down on the scarred Formica table. “Logan and my son, Jeremy, have gotten to be good friends over the past few weeks.”
Logan’s face lit up when he heard the boy’s name. “Is Jeremy here?”
“Are you kidding? There was no way he was going to stay home once he found out where I was going. He’s unloading some things from the car.”
“Cool! I’m going outside, Aunt Jenna.” Logan dashed out the door, Tori at his heels.
“Jeremy is twelve and very responsible,” Emma assured her. “He doesn’t mind keeping an eye on Logan and Tori while we work.”
Kate frowned. “Speaking of work…where’s Abby?”
“I’m right here.” Abby O’Halloran breezed into the cabin, dropped a box into the lap of the lumpy tweed recliner and reeled Jenna in for a hug.
A hug. As if they’d known each other forever rather than just a few days. Then she stepped back and looked Jenna straight in the eye.
“How are you?”
Jenna opened her mouth, ready to give her standard response, but something in Abby’s compassionate gaze seemed to require an honest response.
“I’m…not sure.”
Abby nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “That’s why we’re here.”
Zoey parked her hands on her hips. “Where should we start?”
Jenna felt her control slipping. “Really…you don’t have to—”
“Of course we don’t.” Kate cut off her protest, her brisk tone matching her movements as she began to unpack an arsenal of cleaning supplies. “We want to. You move to a small town, you get the small town treatment.”
Jenna had already experienced that, and the memories weren’t pleasant ones. People had either ignored her family or gossiped about them, but no one had ever offered to help.
“Jake mentioned the fire didn’t do much damage, but we figured a few little touches might make you feel more at…” Emma’s voice trailed off.
For the first time, the visitors seemed to become aware of their surroundings. The dark paneling that shadowed the walls. The shabby furnishings. The scorch mark on the scuffed hardwood floor, evidence of what could have been a fatal mistake.
Forget the fact that she lived in a gated community with a waiting list that stretched into the next decade. Jenna was suddenly eight years old again, facing the girls that had drifted over to meet her the day she’d moved into the neighborhood.
She had invited them in to play, but the pigtail posse created their own game. They’d spent the morning poking fun at the tiny garage apartment. And at her.
The scenario continued through high school. Different towns, the same response. Being measured by her peers and found wanting. Old insecurities, the ones Jenna thought she had put behind her, began to creep in as Kate and her friends surveyed the cabin.
“It’s got a lot of potential,” Abby declared.
Emma saw Jenna’s expression and laughed. “Abby’s bed-and-breakfast needed three times this much work when she bought it. She welcomes a challenge.”
“Which explains Quinn,” Kate whispered.
Abby gave her friend a playful swat on the arm. “This from the woman who fell in love with my bossy big brother. Most people run in the opposite direction when they see Alex coming.”
Zoey must have noticed Jenna’s bemusement.
“They can be a little overwhelming, can’t they?” she said in a low voice. “The first time I met them, they bullied me into joining their knitting group.”
Abby heard her. “Bullied isn’t quite the word…oh, maybe it is. But you’ll get used to us,” she added with a bright smile at Jenna.
Jenna didn’t contradict her, even though she knew she wouldn’t be in Mirror Lake long enough to join a knitting group. Or any other kind of group, for that matter.
Watching the way the four friends interacted, with genuine affection and acceptance, Jenna wondered what it would be like to be included in their close-knit circle.
Other than a weekly cappuccino date with Caitlin Walsh, the image consultant Jenna had met while working on a special makeover issue for the magazine, the majority of Jenna’s time and energy were devoted to her readers.
The door opened and an adolescent boy walked in, balancing a bulky object on his shoulder. Judging from the smoke blue eyes and sandy brown hair, this was Emma’s son, Jeremy. He flashed a shy smile at Jenna before turning to Abby. “Where did you want this, Mrs. O’Halloran?”
Abby pointed to the floor. “Right over there.”
Jenna watched Zoey and Kate kneel down and unroll the hand-hooked wool rug. A butter-yellow border outlined a stunning bouquet of wildflowers in the pattern. The colors brightened the room—and completely covered the blackened area