“Did you go to the bank?” her grandmother asked from the chair beside her.
“Yes, Grandma.” She sighed. “Everything’s fine.”
“…stealing my money. They think I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. The bank account’s just how you left it.” Empty, and likely to stay that way. She glanced at the red bird perched on the feeder outside the window. “Look, a cardinal. I think those sunflower seeds did the trick.”
She helped her grandmother hold the binoculars in her trembling hands so she could get a closer look. Thank goodness cardinals didn’t migrate. Her grandmother had lost so much in the car wreck—some speech and motor skills, short-term memory, the ability to make her beloved quilts. Watching birds from her sunroom was the only pleasure she had left.
And Erin was going to make sure her grandmother could watch those birds from the security of her home until she died—no matter how dire their finances.
Pushing back the familiar swell of anxiety, she set the binoculars aside. Then she picked up the faded quilt from a nearby chair and wrapped it around Grandma’s shoulders. Ever since that accident, the bills had mounted. Medicare covered the bulk, thank goodness, but without a supplement, she had to pay the rest. And while she struggled through the insurance nightmare, submitting claims and juggling payments, her historic home rotted away. She couldn’t begin to fund the repairs that money pit demanded.
So she’d started tutoring after teaching high school all day. She’d slashed expenses, sold furniture and even mortgaged Mills Ferry, the family’s estate for ten generations. In desperation, she’d borrowed money from their neighbor, Norm Decker. Still, the bills piled up.
Her stomach roiled. She was frugal by nature and any debt made her nervous. Hovering on the edge of bankruptcy like this drove her wild. But what could she do? Even small changes confused her grandmother and agitated her for days. Losing her home would destroy her.
So she struggled to hold on to the house. But unless a miracle happened soon…
She heard the front door close and she patted her grandmother’s shoulder. “Lottie’s here, Grandma. You keep watching the cardinal. I’ll be back as soon as I set out dinner.”
She crossed the front parlor they used as their family room and entered the spacious foyer. She’d closed off most of the house after the accident to cut utility bills—the attic and cellar, every spare bedroom, the dining room and entire third floor. She’d moved her grandmother into the first floor library for easier access, and herself into the smallest bedroom upstairs.
She’d also tried to rent out the master bedroom. Unfortunately, Millstown didn’t attract tourists and no one had answered her ad.
“It’s getting cold out there.” Lottie removed her long, woolen coat and looped it over the coat tree in the entry. “If this keeps up, we’ll get snow for Thanksgiving.”
“I sure hope not.” With their ongoing drought, they needed the moisture, but snow meant higher heating bills, which she couldn’t afford.
Lottie removed her beret and fluffed out her short, gray curls. “I put your mail on the hutch.”
“Thanks, Lottie. I appreciate it.” She glanced at the basket heaped with bills and rubbed the insistent throb in her forehead.
“Another headache?”
“I’m fine.” She forced a smile. A retired nurse, Lottie had moved into their renovated spring house when her husband died. In exchange for room and board, she cared for Grandma while Erin worked. And she was a godsend. Erin couldn’t have managed without her.
She headed into the kitchen. “The casserole’s ready. I hope you don’t mind tuna again.”
“Tuna’s fine, but I thought you were going out with Mike tonight.”
“No time. I’ve got essays to correct.”
“You keep turning that man down and he’s going to lose interest,” Lottie scolded from behind her. “He’s a good man, too, something you can’t take for granted these days.”
Erin grabbed the hot pads from the counter and opened the oven door. Lottie was right. Mike was a good man, the type who’d cheerfully settle down and support a family. And she enjoyed talking to him at work. A lot. But she didn’t have time to date these days. “He’s got his own grades to do. He understands.”
“Maybe, but you still need to relax. You’re always working and volunteering.”
“Being busy isn’t a crime.”
“No, but people take advantage of you, hon. The town won’t fall apart if you say no for once.”
She removed the casserole from the oven, set it on the counter and took out the side dish of beans. So she did more than her share. She didn’t mind. She loved helping her community.
Lottie sighed and opened the silverware drawer. “Well, don’t blame me when you drop from exhaustion. By the way, I stopped at Norm’s on the way home.”
“How is he?”
“Not good.”
A heavy feeling weighted her heart. Norm was her grandmother’s closest friend and the most generous person she knew. She couldn’t bear to think of him dying.
“At least Wade made it here in time,” Lottie said.
Wade. Erin froze and for long seconds struggled to breathe. Lottie couldn’t know, she told herself desperately. No one knew, aside from herself and Wade. Lottie was just making conversation.
“That’s good.” She carefully hung the hot pads on the hook beside the stove and prayed that her voice sounded normal.
“And Norm said he’s staying with us.”
“What?” Erin’s mind blanked. “Who’s staying with us? Norm?”
“No, of course not. Wade is.” Lottie pulled out the silverware and closed the drawer. “Norm asked about the room the other day, but I forgot to tell you. I assumed it was fine since you keep running that ad.”
Erin’s heart tripped, then careened through her chest. Wade would be in her house? Renting her room? Wade?
“In fact, he’ll probably be here soon,” Lottie added. “I’ll set an extra place in case he’s hungry.”
Erin gaped at Lottie. Wade was on his way here?
Lottie cocked her head to the side. “Are you okay, hon?”
She blinked. “I’m fine. I just…I mean, I’d better check the room. Make sure the vent’s open so he’ll get heat. Do you mind helping Grandma?”
Lottie waved her off. “Go on. I’ll get Mae.”
Erin whirled from the kitchen. She took the stairs two at a time, rushed into the master bedroom and slammed the door. Then she leaned against the wall and gasped for breath.
Wade Winslow. Here. In her house.
Oh, Lord.
She placed her palm over her heart and dragged in a steadying breath. She had to get a grip. Wade had happened years ago. Twelve long years ago. One incredible, passionate night that had meant the world to her and nothing to him.
Not that she’d blamed him. She’d always known he wouldn’t stay. Even though she had hoped….
But she wasn’t the type to delude herself. Not then, and certainly not now. Especially when it came to Wade Winslow.
She straightened and crossed to the bed. Reaching up, she removed a picture frame from the wall. Then, for an endless moment, she gazed at the wrinkled paper inside and