Page 1 of Hometown Girl

Chapter One

Beth Whitaker hated flowers.

Sure, they were pretty, and some of them even smelled good. The right assortment could dress up a dinner table, and she could appreciate how each one was different. But flowers were a sign of weakness.

And death.

People brought flowers to gravesites and hospital rooms. One of her earliest memories was being pulled out of kindergarten to attend her great-grandmother’s funeral. She didn’t remember the way Grandma had looked in the casket or who else had been there, but she distinctly remembered the smell of the flowers.

It was the same smell that had filled Mom’s hospital room ten months ago. Floral sympathy left as sour a taste in her mouth as floral courtship. Pining over some man, waiting for him to bring flowers for no reason.

Weakness.

Now Beth sat in the small exam room, waiting for Dr.Berry to check on her mother. The checkup they’d been waiting for, the one that told them her mom had recovered from her stroke.

But Beth knew better. After all, she was the one taking care of her mom on a daily basis.

“Would you stop doing that?” Her mother’s brows matched her mouth, turned down like blankets in a fancy hotel.

“What am I doing?” Beth’s own wrung-out hands drew her attention to her lap. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

Her mom waved her off. “I’m fine. I feel great.”

“I just hope it’s not the calm before another storm.”

“You are so negative, Beth,” her mother groaned. “Is this how I raised you?”

Beth shot her a look. It was, in fact, exactly how she’d raised her. The difference was that her mom’s near-death experience had given the elder Whitaker a new, cheery outlook on life. One she flaunted like a child wearing a new dress.

“You’ve gotta realize one of these days that life is short. It’s time you get back to your own life and let me worry about mine.”

Beth stood. “What is taking so long?”

Despite her mother’s protests, Beth opened the door and started down the hall—more to get away from her mother’s lecture than to search for Dr.Berry. The nurses’ station around the corner might provide an escape, or at least some answers as to what was holding up the good doctor.

But when she reached the end of the hallway and overheard someone say her name, Beth stopped.

“I guess Miss Most Likely to Succeed is just a commoner like the rest of us,” a woman’s voice mocked. “Didn’t she always talk about getting out of this dead-end town?”

“Tandy, stop. Her mom had a stroke.”

“Ten months ago. She had plenty of time to get out of here before that. Years, in fact.”

From where she stood, Beth heard papers rustling and fingers clicking on a keyboard.

“Give her a break,” the other woman said.

“Sorry. I just can’t stand these rich girls who think they’re better than everyone else.”

“It’s not like everything’s come easy to her, Tandy. She’s had a rough few years.”

There was a pause then—for effect? An eye roll? Beth could only imagine.

“If you’re talking about Michael, she should’ve known.”

Beth tensed at the mention of his name.

“I mean, everyone else did.”

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