Runaway Colton. Karen Whiddon

he shot her a glance. “Did you ever know Ms. Berens? Most people called her the Widow Berens. Her first name is Lorraine.”

      The name didn’t ring a bell. Piper finally shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

      “Her husband used to own the pharmacy on Main Street, though he passed away, probably before you were born. She sold it and banked the money, intending to use it to live on for the rest of her life. I believe she supplements her income by making and selling custom quilts.”

      Piper nodded. “I’ve seen some of her quilts. They’re beautiful.”

      “Yes they are. Well, back when my daddy was alive, he ran a scam on her. This was before internet dating scams, but he did something similar to her. She was lonely, he was a good-looking man, and he convinced her that he loved her.”

      “Oh, no.” Piper feared she knew what he’d say next.

      “He bilked her out of her entire savings.” His grim voice told her what he thought of that. “Ever since I learned about it, I’ve been trying to make restitution by paying her back a little at a time.”

      Moved, she nodded, looking away so he wouldn’t see the rawness of her emotions in her eyes or face. She’d always felt things deeply, a trait she’d learned at an early age to keep hidden to avoid ridicule. “That’s kind of you,” she managed, glad her voice sounded even. “Not many people would feel responsible for their father’s sins.”

      “Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “All I know is that it’s the right thing to do. She was gullible and trusted the wrong man. My father didn’t spend one second regretting what he did to her, not even on the day he died.”

      Hearing the trace of bitterness in his voice, she nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”

      “Like what?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything to help her. Cooking, cleaning, laundry?”

      “I guess you can ask her. As far as I can tell, she’s still able to take pretty good care of herself.”

      By the time he turned off the paved farm-to-market road onto a rutted, dirt one, Piper felt more like herself than she had since she’d been arrested. She’d always said helping others was the best medicine. The very act took all the focus off one’s troubles. Marceline had scoffed, as had Fowler, and Piper’s adoptive mother, Whitney. Her adoptive brother Reid had always smiled with pride. He’d often whispered to Piper how proud he was of her.

      Piper wondered what Reid thought about her now.

      “Here we are,” Cord said, turning into a long, gravel drive. A black metal gate that needed paint guarded the entrance, though it sat open, the part that closed hung crookedly from one hinge.

      Despite this, the place felt homey rather than decrepit. She felt a sense of peace here.

      The white farmhouse sat back from the road, under the shade of five huge live oak trees. “It’s nice. The wood siding appears to have been freshly painted, unlike that gate.”

      He grimaced. “Yeah, I should’ve fixed that last time I was out here. No time to do it today, so it’ll have to wait.”

      “Does Ms. Berens have children to help her?”

      “No. At least not as far as I know. She’s never mentioned any kids and I certainly haven’t seen any in all the years I’ve known her.”

      Once he killed the engine, he turned to look at her. “Do you want to wait out here?”

      “Oh, heck no.” She grinned to take the sting off her words. “I want to meet her. I’m guessing she loves to have company.”

      To her surprise, he grinned back at her. “That she does. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”