Please know that I pray for each and every one of you daily.
Love courageously,
Deb Kastner
To my dear friend Lisa Palmer. We’ve kept each other sane through the years and I am blessed to call you my friend. You are one of the strongest people I know. Keep fighting the good fight!
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Angelica May Carmichael had been duped.
By her own grandmother.
She looked around and sighed in exasperation. This wasn’t a picnic.
Or rather, this wasn’t just a picnic, though there were brightly colored baskets covered in ribbons dotting the lawn all across the community green.
Not a picnic. Picnics.
And this wasn’t a quiet, personal outing with Granny’s best friend, Jo Spencer, as Angelica had been given to expect, either. Not that an outing with the boisterous old redhead who owned Cup O’ Jo’s Café could ever be labeled as quiet. That woman wouldn’t know quiet if it bit her on the nose.
But a private picnic?
Yeah, not so much.
In hindsight, Angelica realized she should have gone with her gut feeling and headed straight to Granny’s ranch instead of stopping in at Cup O’ Jo’s to let Jo know she’d arrived safely. A phone call would have sufficed.
But no. Jo had been adamant she come straight to the café, sounding a bit too enthusiastic about seeing her again. Everything about Jo Spencer was enthusiastic, but her suggestion had been overanimated even for Jo.
She’d even anticipated Angelica’s hesitation, telling her to slip through the back door of the café. She’d assured her that she wouldn’t be seen by any customers, and that her nephew, Chance, the cook who would no doubt be in the kitchen, would keep their secret. He wasn’t much of talker, anyway.
If only she hadn’t been in such a hurry to get into town and out again without being seen that she hadn’t recognized the signals, the internal alarms blaring in her head.
Their meeting was only supposed to be her and Jo. Having been Granny’s best friend, Jo understood Angelica’s dilemma at returning to Serendipity at all—or at least Angelica had thought she had.
“Oh, honey, welcome back,” Jo had said, hugging her so hard it pressed the breath right out of her lungs. “And let me see sweet Toby.”
Jo had exclaimed over the newborn and then had handed her a letter written by her recently deceased granny, addressed with only Angelica’s first name and scribbled in Granny’s chicken-scratch handwriting.
“Consider it a last request,” Jo had suggested.
Directions?
More like a cryptic note.
Picnic With Jo.
It was a strange thing to ask, but Angelica figured it was the least she could do since she hadn’t been able to be there for Granny’s last days—or even her funeral. If she hadn’t followed the instructions out of love for Granny, she would have followed them out of guilt.
Which was why she had found herself smack-dab in the middle of a full-fledged town event, Toby tucked into a front pack.
Serendipity did their parties up right, and, as usual, nearly everyone in town was present, enjoying every moment of the event. Here in Serendipity, a person could expect to find a lot of love and laughter.
But even as a youth, Angelica had struggled to capture the happy spirit of the town celebrations. And no wonder. For as long as she could remember, she’d been the town pariah, as well as her family’s.
And after the catastrophic series of events that sent her fleeing Serendipity on the eve of her own wedding rehearsal, well, she didn’t expect anyone to forgive her—least of all her ex-fiancé, sheep farmer Rowdy Masterson.
Standing