Page 86 of The Hermit on the Hill

Nora pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "I see. Have a good day, Sam."

"You, too, Mrs. Reynolds." I felt like tipping my hat to her, but I didn't have a hat, so I just watched her walk away.

"She's not really as bad as she seems," Brittany said. "At least not according to Jared. She's just a control freak who wants the best for her children, as long as the best is what she tells them it is."

"It's clear she's acting out of love. Unfortunately, it's the kind of love that could chase away the very people she's trying to keep close."

"Yep. But I think she's trying. You did the right thing sticking up for Jenna."

"Good to know I can do something right."

She linked her arm through mine and started for the door. "So, you going to stay in town?"

"I think I might." None of my reasons for walking away were good enough to leave my son anymore.

"Good. And Jenna?"

"Pretty sure I've screwed that one too good to fix."

"You should try anyway."

***

The first thing I did after I got home and washed off the glitter was call the guys in Wyoming and tell them I wouldn't be taking the job after all. Then I called Marcus.

"How would you feel about me sticking around?" I asked.

"The intervention actually worked?"

"Don't tell Brit. It'll go to her head." I held the phone between my ear and shoulder while I used a box cutter to rip into one of the boxes I'd packed for the move. "You going to let me back in on the business?"

"Hell, yeah. Mind if I stop over to talk to you about it?"

"Sure. I'll order pizza. I don't have any food in the house since I was planning to move."

"Works for me. I'll bring Damian, too."

"No problem. He still like mushrooms, olives, and tomatoes?"

"That's right. We'll be over in about an hour."

I hung up and started digging through the boxes I'd spent hours packing. After all the talk about Nana's apple pie, I had a hankering for it. I found her recipe book in the fifth box I ripped into. It wasn't so much a book as a box of index cards with various recipes inside.

Nana had taught me to cook, but she'd never taught me to bake. Why hadn't I looked at her recipes sooner? I'd always meant to, had even packed them so I would have the opportunity in Wyoming, but I'd been busy and maybe… I pulled out an index card, her handwriting neat and cramped with her own way of talking interspersed with traditional recipe instructions, like 'whip the sauce up good and don't leave no lumps or Aunt Mary will complain all night.'

I smiled, hearing Nana's voice in my mind, but pain seared my chest, too. It was hard. So hard to look at her things, to remember the woman she'd been, the only mother I'd ever had.

Dropping the card back into the box and closing it, I looked out the window toward the forest and the mountain peaks beyond. "I'm sorry, Nana. I should have gone to town to get help. I should have found a way to bring help to you."

I sat there on the floor, holding Nana's recipe box in my lap, waiting for some sign from her. For months, she'd been making her opinion known in the loudest way possible, but now nothing. It felt like a condemnation.

I had expected nothing less.

"All this time, I've been wanting to punish this town for letting you die, but I'm the one who let you down. I can never fix what I did, but I'll be sorry every day for the rest of my life, and I'll never stop trying to make up for it."

I pushed to my feet and carried her recipe box into the kitchen to get started on her pie. The fridge was pretty bare, but I'd left the dry ingredients and spices for Jenna. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to run to the store.

Blue hydrangeas covered the center island from end to end. Just a carpet of sweet-smelling, delicate blossoms. Nana had used hydrangeas in only one charm, to bring back lost or estranged family members. It represented family love, and the charm was supposed to evoke unity.

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