Chapter 1
The windows rattled as thunder cracked across the indigo sky.
Penny Heart scrunched her eyes shut, her hands clenched around the worn copy ofKing Lear.
Another boom shook the walls of her spacious studio apartment, followed moments later by a bright flicker of light.
Penny focused on her breathing.
In and out…. In and out….
Her fingers trembling, she set the book facedown on the Victorian-era chaise lounge, forcing her eyes open. “Chip? Are you okay?”
The large Russian tortoise lifted its head before returning his attention to the clump of lettuce scattered across the art deco rug.
A faint smile tipped the corner of Penny’s mouth. “I know, I know. I’m overreacting. Just a little thunder and lightning. Nothing to worry about, right?”
Chip blinked, then resumed munching, accustomed to their one-sided conversations.
“Okay, you’re right. It’ll be fine.” As soon as the words left her lips, another loudcrackexploded in the distance. Penny jumped, fear rippling through her lithe frame as violently as the slash of lightning blazing outside the tall, unobstructed windows.
Digging her nails into the teal velvet, she whispered, “This isn’t real, this isn’t real.” Her father had taught her the mantra when she started having nightmares in first grade. Over time, she’d adopted it in all uncomfortable situations. And given her long list of phobias, she recited it often.
As her short, ragged breaths returned to a more normal rhythm, she wobbled to her feet. “I think I’ll make a soothing cup of tea.”
Chip shot her a look that said,It’s about time.
After setting a cast-iron kettle on the antique range, Penny surveyed her stash of loose leaf tea arranged in colorful Depression-glass jars, deciding on a relaxing blend of chamomile and lemon balm.
She hated storms, especially in the summer. Although they weren’t as frequent, the warm air seemed to make the thunder more intense and menacing.
While the water boiled, Penny fixed her gaze on her happy place—a small framed photograph of two young girls building a sandcastle on a scenic, secluded beach. A solitary home perched on the ridge line overhead, as though looking down on the youngsters protectively.
It had hung in the same spot for as long as she could remember. The soft, slightly faded colors lent a dreamlike quality to the photograph, and Penny often let her mind wander, creating elaborate backstories for the carefree pair. Perhaps it was because they both shared the same auburn hair as herself or because she didn’t have any siblings of her own—or any family at all, for that matter—but Penny liked to imagine they were related to her, possibly long-lost sisters or cousins she’d never met.
If she concentrated hard enough, she could feel the gentle sea breeze caress her skin and the soft grains of sand filter through her fingertips. Although she never ventured farther than the neighboring towns surrounding her home in Poppy Creek, Penny longed to visit the ocean—to glimpse the vast expanse of cerulean waters that stretched into the horizon, promising unfathomable adventures. But as each summer passed, she’d tell herself she’d go next year. And then one year became two, until the notion seemed forever out of reach.
Sturdy raindrops pelted the rooftop, waking Penny from her peaceful reverie. She was no longer on the beach with golden rays of sunlight warming the back of her neck. Her gaze adjusted to the soft glow emanating from the Tiffany lamp and high-pressure sodium light bulbs that pampered her jungle of houseplants.
While her eclectic, bohemian decor of vibrant tapestries, curious knickknacks, and array of vintage furniture seemed eccentric to some, to Penny… they exemplifiedhome. The home she and her father built before he passed away nine years ago, leaving her the apartment and his quirky antiques shop directly below.
The kettle screeched, and she quickly shut off the burner, removing the boiling water from the heat. With a gentle circular motion, she poured it over the stainless-steel infuser resting on the bottom of her gold-etched teacup. Almost immediately, the aromatic steam calmed her nerves.
Leaning against the yellow-tile countertop, Penny watched the dried leaves transform the clear liquid into a sultry amber color as the rain pummeled the gambrel roof. “Good thing we don’t have to go outside,” she told Chip, who didn’t seem to care one way or the other as he moved on from the butter lettuce to the mustard greens. “A little sympathy would be nice,” she added with a shaky laugh.
Her cell phone chirped in agreement, and Penny snatched it off the counter, grateful for a distraction. Noting the sender of the text, her lips instinctively curled into a smile.
Cassie Hayward… orDavis,rather, as of a few days ago. Although Cassie only arrived in Poppy Creek last Christmas, she’d quickly made an impression on the small town, capturing the heart of one man in particular—Penny’s dear friend Luke Davis. The two lovebirds married in a beautiful ceremony on Saturday, just in time to beat the summer storm.
Normally, Penny didn’t believe in love. Or rather, she didn’t believe it was anything more than a fleeting fancy before inevitable heartache left both parties irreparably damaged. But somehow, Luke and Cassie managed to be an exception to the rule. And she prayed it would last.
As Penny read Cassie’s text, her pleasant sentiments evaporated along with her smile.
Emergency update on Frank. Meet in the café ASAP.
Penny cast a furtive glance out the French doors, cringing as virulent raindrops battered the potted herb garden lining the balcony.
Even though The Calendar Café was only a short walk down Main Street, her heartbeat stuttered at the idea of leaving the safety of her apartment. Penny’s coppery eyes pleaded with Chip as she projected her guilt onto her aloof roommate. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not a coward, I’mcautious. The chances of getting struck by lightning are approximately one in one million, two-hundred and twenty-two thousand. Which may not sound like much. Unless you happen to be next in line.”
