Page 2

Peyton imagined the two of them would talk some more about it today, because the family their separated families had made in the few short months they’d all been here was nothing short of magic. And she and Jenny loved talking about that magic.

Every moment of happiness they found now was a repudiation of the man who had caused them all such misery. They liked to marinate in each and every one.

She kept walking through the sweet morning, passing Tennessee’s house that was set back from the road on the other side of the seasonal creek, at the foot of what was known as Lisle Hill. Peyton could hear dogs barking from inside, and when she tipped her head back she could see the lighthouse that marked the top of the hill. And, rumor had it, would either open this fall as a bed-and-breakfast or possibly not at all, depending on the state of Dallas Lisle, the middle sibling of the Lisle half of things.

Dallas, to Peyton’s eye, seemed like the kind of man who’d let sadness turn gruff and stay that way. Sometimes she thought he was what her Raleigh would have become, if he’d had a little bit less of his father’s impossible charm.

That was the thing about the man she’d known as Lyle Patrick. He was outrageously charming. He could talk anyone into anything, and more than a few women straight out of their clothes. Peyton included.

She and Jenny talked a lot about that too. They had both succumbed. Hell, they’d both married him.

Today they were driving down into Marietta, nestled down at the foot of Copper Mountain. They intended to take advantage of the good June weather and walk around the charming little town, indulge themselves at the chocolate shop, have a burger at Grey’s Saloon, do a little bit of shopping, and head home.

Because that was what Peyton did now, in this new life of hers. She had a friend to wander around with, and she could actually spend time with that friend and talk about anything and everything. She didn’t have to constantly be looking over her shoulder. She didn’t need to keep her go bag ready, always, because there was no longer a reason to be forever on the run.

This was the first time she had stayed in one place this long since she was a little girl. She liked it.

Peyton waited at the bottom of the dirt drive that wound up and all over Lisle Hill, enjoying the clean, mountain air. And that sun with hints of summer that danced all over her, like blessings to come.

Across the street, she saw there was activity in one of the previously abandoned buildings and so she watched the comings and goings for a moment. This was going to be a new restaurant in town, and it was meant to be a fancy farm-to-table sort of place, according to Tennessee.

Peyton had assumed he’d be opposed to a new restaurant in town, but he wasn’t. I serve diner food, he’d said. Damn good diner food, but I don’t pretend I’m something I’m not.

Of course he didn’t, she’d thought.

The only other restaurant in town was Mountain Mama, the pizza and ice cream and favorite haunt of the locals. And maybe the grumpy bartender at the Copper Mine served some food—Peyton couldn’t say as she’d never been.

This morning she found herself thinking that this tiny little town sure was attracting a whole lot of new and interesting people and places. People were moving to this small town instead of away from it.

She watched some more newcomers—even newer than she was—who stood out in front of the renovated barn across the way, engaging in what sounded to Peyton like good-natured bickering. She suspected that meant that these four young women were the owners of the new restaurant. College friends by all accounts, who had for some reason chosen Cowboy Point as the place to open up their restaurant.

As she stood there, Peyton saw two of them get up on ladders. The other two began to lift up what she saw immediately was their sign. They held it in place for a moment, up above the doors. Peyton read the words written there in a lovely cursive: Crowded Table.

She liked the name.

But the bickering had not ended. She watched as they moved the sign an inch up and then an inch down. An inch left and an inch right.

She was so entertained by the spectacle of four women fighting cheerfully with each other that she almost missed the activity a little closer to her.

Kitty Bennett, the cook responsible for all the good food at Mountain Mama, came storming out from behind the restaurant. She was marching down the dirt road that led to the house where all three Bennett sisters lived, making it an easy walk to work.

But Peyton also saw her son Finn come into view, walking down the road from the apartment he was renting over the medical clinic. She watched them with interest, as an inevitable collision came closer and closer—

Something Finn could easily have avoided, she noted, as he was looking straight at Kitty. But he didn’t.

What he did instead was speed up just slightly, so that when Kitty hit the sidewalk she nearly ran right into him.

And would have if he didn’t reach out and put his hand on her elbow to steady her.

Peyton heard a vehicle on the dirt drive behind her, but she didn’t move. And when Jenny pulled up beside her and rolled down her window inquiringly, Peyton pointed across the road.

“Well, look at that,” Jenny murmured as she followed Peyton’s finger.

Peyton kept her eyes on her son, with that amiable smile on his face that some folks mistook for weakness—clearly missing how resolute that blue gaze of his always was. He was responsible to a fault, had been a better father to his brother and sister than their own father ever had been. Peyton always felt a surge of love for this boy who had made her a mother, side by side with a huge helping of guilt that she’d done it with a man who could never be anything like a role model for him.

But then, this was Finn. He’d figured out how to be a good man all by himself.

“They would have run right into each other,” she told Jenny. “Especially when Finn sped up a bit. But he caught her. Right there by her elbow, as you can see.”