Winter Reunion. Roxanne Rustand

eyebrows rose. “A child? Here?”

      “Hey, there are homeless families everywhere. At least this mom has a safe place for her son to live.”

      “How long have they all been here?”

      Beth shuffled through the papers in the folder. “According to the records, the current boarders moved in during the three months prior to your mother’s heart attack. Elana and her son Cody arrived just the week before.” She looked up and caught a flicker of uneasiness in Dev’s eyes. “But good news—residents do benefit from being here, and then they do move on. There were actually two more women and a gentleman, who left a few weeks ago.”

      “Successfully, I hope.”

      “All have their own apartments now, and have jobs in town. Nora has checked in on them a couple of times.” She looked up at him, and bit back a smile at the grim set of his mouth. “This isn’t some dangerous mission, Dev. It might actually be fun.”

      “Right. If ‘the blind leading the blind’ isn’t a recipe for failure.”

      “We’ll do fine. I suppose we should talk to them as a group and allay any fears they may have, then meet with everyone individually. What do you think?”

      He sighed.

      “Ready?” She crossed the wide plank floor of the porch, noting the half-dozen Adirondack chairs and rockers with bright red cushions and a checkers set sitting on a table. At the front door she hesitated, then rapped on the door.

      A few moments later, a somber, gray-haired man peered out a beveled windowpane in the door before he opened it. “You must be Vivian’s boy.” He gave Dev a narrowed look. “And…you must be Beth Carrigan. We’ve heard about things changing around here.”

      “We’re only coming on board to help out. Right, Dev?” She looked over her shoulder and winced at his dark expression.

      “Folks here are worried. Most of us have been waiting in the parlor to hear what you have to say.”

      “And you are?” Beth asked, extending her hand.

      “Carl White. Thirty-two years on the railroad line till my heart gave out.” He thumped his barrel chest with his fist. “Got a pacemaker and new valves—a real overhaul. Almost ready to go down the tracks again.”

      But his face was ashen, and he sucked in a rattling breath after each sentence. If he was planning to go down the road, she hoped it wouldn’t be very far.

      “Good to meet you, Carl.”

      Overhead, a massive chandelier hung in the center of the two-story entryway. Beyond lay a wide hallway flanked by a curving, open staircase with a dark, burnished oak railing.

      Beth had always been as intimidated by the grandeur of the house as she’d been by her in-laws’ subtle disapproval. From the stiff set of Dev’s shoulders, he didn’t have happy memories about the place, either. No wonder. With his mother’s charitable works and active social life and his father’s dedication to medicine, they’d earned a sterling reputation in town, but they sure hadn’t put a priority on understanding and supporting their only child’s wishes.

      Carl led them to the dining room, where the original, gleaming cherrywood dining room table and chairs for twelve still took center stage.

      A patrician silver-haired man, probably in his early sixties, studied them as they walked in. The austere, elegant woman across from him was a woman whom Beth recognized as an infrequent customer at the bookstore. Her upswept, coal-black hair and perfect manicure were badges of prosperity, so what was she doing here?

      Carl cleared his throat. “This is Frank Ferguson and Reva Young.” The woman nodded. “Our youngest residents, Elana Mendez and her boy, couldn’t be here.”

      Beth cast a quick glance at Dev, but he shook his head slightly, turning the discussion over to her.

      “As you know, Dev and I have been given the responsibility of taking over the management of this house, to satisfy the promises his mother made to each of you. Today we’d like to meet with each of you privately to discuss your concerns and needs. But first, are there any questions we should address with the group?”

      Carl scowled. “About the costs…are they going to be the same?”

      Wishing Dev had been more willing to discuss details out on the porch, she shot another glance at him and caught his almost imperceptible shrug, then nodded. “According to the documents I have, you all pay a flat hundred-dollar monthly rent for your room, plus a hundred for your share of the food, supplies and lawn care. We have no plans to change that at this time.”

      Pugnacious as a boxer spoiling for a fight, Carl sat forward with his jaw jutting, drumming his fingers on the table. “When do you plan to kick us all out and close this place?”

      “The agreement you all had with Vivian was for a six-month stay—renewable based on need, on a case-by-case basis. Her will stated that should she pass away, the full six-month period would start fresh for everyone living here.”

      “Then what?”

      “We’ll do our best to help you all get a good start at renewed independence,” Beth assured him. “Just like Vivian did. No one will be thrown out in the street. If there are problems, we’ll talk. However, this was never intended to be a long-term boardinghouse.”

      Beth felt a tug at her heart when Carl nodded bleakly. For all his crotchety bluster, he was afraid. What would happen to these people if successful independence wasn’t attainable within six months, or even a year? Yet…what could happen to the viability of this entire scenic tourist town if that didn’t happen, and Stan Murdock got his hands on the property?

      Would Nora and Harold be ruthless in their application of the terms of Vivian’s will and let Stan lead the town to ruin?

      After fielding a few more questions, Beth and Dev moved to the parlor across the hall to meet with the residents individually. With each passing hour, Beth’s concern grew. Was it even possible to meet the stipulations of Vivian’s will?