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Till Hart, petite and spry at seventy-five years old, was the never-married granddaughter of the town’s founding father. She was the sort of person who’d never known a stranger, especially not in Hart’s Crossing. She, in turn, was beloved by everyone who knew her.

“Miss Hart.” Angie got to her feet. She was about to offer her hand, but before she could, Till stepped forward and embraced her.

“It’s been too long since you were home.” After a second tight squeeze—the woman was surprisingly strong for one so slight in stature and advanced in years—Till released her and stepped back, searching Angie’s face with her gaze. “Too long.” She lowered her voice. “Your mother misses you, you know. Use this time well. We can never get yesterday back. Take it from someone who’s wasted a yesterday or two.”

Angie felt a sting of guilt.

Francine stepped toward the kitchen counter. “Till, would you like some coffee?”

“No, thank you, Frani. I’m out for my morning constitutional, and I mustn’t stay. I just wanted to say hello to your daughter while I was in the neighborhood.” She patted Angie’s shoulder. “You come see me, and we’ll have ourselves a nice chat.” As sweetly spoken as the words were, they seemed more command than invitation.

“I will, Miss Hart.”

“Good. Well, I’m off.” She flicked a hand in the air, half-wave, half-salute, then turned and headed for the front door, calling behind her, “Don’t forget your promise, Angie. You come see me.” Seconds later, the front door closed behind her.

Francine chuckled as she settled onto her chair once again. “I swear, Till’s a force of nature. She’ll never change.”

Angie was strangely comforted by her mother’s comment. She didn’t want Miss Hart to change. Then she realized she was equally as comforted by the belief that her mother would never change either.

How surprising.

* * *

Terri marked off another day on the list. “That takes care of three weeks of meals for the Hunters,” she told Anne Gunn. “One more week should do it.”

Anne, the pastor’s wife, arched an eyebrow as she leaned back in her chair. “How much food do you think two women will eat? You may be over planning a bit.”

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. As thin as Angie is, she won’t eat much, and Francine isn’t likely to have a large appetite right after surgery. Maybe I should start over, plan for meals to be delivered every other day.”

Anne nodded. “I think so.”

Terri ripped off the yellow sheet of paper from the pad and drew a new grid. Then she began rearranging the names and dates.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Angie at church on Sunday. I’ve heard a lot about her from her mother since we came to Hart’s Crossing.” Anne turned her glass of iced tea in a circle between her fingers. “John said she and Francine will drive down to Twin Falls Sunday afternoon so they can be at the hospital early Monday morning.”

“I wouldn’t count on Angie being in church, Anne.”

“Why not?”

Terri looked at the pastor’s wife. “She says religion isn’t for her.” Seeing the questions in Anne’s eyes, she gave a little shrug and set down her pen. “Lots of reasons, I suppose. Mostly, she’s too busy for God. She’s very self-sufficient and likes to be in control. Besides, she’s always thought her mom went off the deep end when we were in high school. Francine
was
a changed woman after she accepted Christ.”

“As we all are. Or at least we’re supposed to be.”

“Yes.” Terri nodded, remembering the moment she gave her heart to the Lord and how the whole world seemed to change in an instant. “But Francine…Well, she was determined her daughter would see the light. She sort of hit Angie over the head with the gospel on a regular basis.”

“Ah.”

“A year or so later, Angie left home for college. By then, she’d closed her mind to anything her mom said about her faith. It’s created a tension between them ever since.” She picked up her pen again. “I keep praying Angie will come to understand that Christianity isn’t about a religion but about a relationship with Jesus. The same way I did.” She smiled. “No doubt she thinks I went off the deep end, too.”

Anne Gunn returned the smile. “No doubt.”

* * *

While Angie was at the market, buying a few grocery and sundry items, Francine climbed the stairs slowly, carrying a stack of folded towels in her arms. After placing them in the linen closet in the upstairs bathroom, she went to Angie’s bedroom, pausing in the open doorway. The room was tidy, the bed made, the desk and dresser tops free of clutter. In truth, there was little evidence anyone was staying in the room except for the suitcases tucked underneath the bed, peeking from beneath the pink and white gingham bed skirt.

Of course, her daughter’s room hadn’t always been this neat. Angie had been a typical teenager in most regards. Posters on the walls. Loud music blaring from her stereo or boom box or whatever the kids had called them in those days. Clothes scattered on the floor, despite Francine’s relentless nagging.

She sighed as her thoughts drifted back through time, back before Angie’s teenage years, back to when Francine’s husband was still living and their daughter was carefree. They’d been a happy family, signs of affection displayed frequently and for all to see. And Angie had been such a delightful child.

Things had begun to change with Angie following Ned’s death, but Francine didn’t know how much of what went on had been the norm for teenagers and how much had been in reaction to losing her dad.

Thank you, Lord, for the years of love Angie and I shared with her father. Now please help Angie catch a glimpse of you in these weeks she’s at home with me.

She turned away from the bedroom and started down the stairs, holding onto the handrail as she went.

And Lord, if it wouldn’t be asking too much, I would so love to see her happily married and providing me a grandchild or two.

Chapter 4

ON THURSDAY, ANGIE PHONED in the order for a cable Internet connection. The installer would come out the next morning to do the wiring, she was told. This surprised her. She’d expected to have to wait a week or more.

Excited by the prospect of being able to start her job hunt earlier than anticipated, she set up her laptop and portable printer on the desk in her bedroom, the one she’d used in high school. Oh, the things that old desk had seen. Many a night she’d opened her diary and poured out her dreams onto its pages, writing in bold, bright colors. She’d written about places she wanted to visit and things she wanted to accomplish. She’d even written about the sort of man she would one day marry.

She shook her head. Now there was a pipe dream. All the good men had been taken long before she started looking. She’d wanted to be established in her career before she contemplated marriage, but then…

Feeling suddenly restless, she grabbed her purse from the top of her dresser and left the bedroom. She found her mother dozing in the easy chair in the living room. Not wanting to wake her, she turned to leave.

“What is it, dear?” Francine asked softly.

“Sorry, Mom. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t. I was only resting my eyes. Did you need something?”

“No. I’m going into town to buy some printer paper. Do you want me to pick anything up?”

Francine shook her head as her eyes drifted closed again. “No, thank you, dear.” She drew a deep breath and let it out. “I put the car keys are on the rack beside the back door.”

“I think I’ll walk. I need the exercise.”

“Whatever you like, dear.”

Angie realized suddenly that her mother looked her age. Not old, exactly, but aging. Unlike the sixty-something women of Angie’s acquaintance who had their faces lifted and peeled on a regular basis, Francine Hunter looked…natural. Normal. Comfortable in her own skin.

Peaceful.

Angie felt an odd tug at her heart. For a moment, she was tempted to explore the feeling, to see what had caused it and what it might mean. But she didn’t. Introspection and self-analyzing were for people who had little else to do with their time. Angie was a woman of action, always busy. Always.

She quickly left the house, almost as if pursued.

Angie’s trip to the drugstore—the most likely place in town to find the office supplies she wanted—took her past the elementary school, the Big Burger Drive-In, the Elk’s Lodge, Suds Bar and Grill, Tin Pan Alley Bowling Lanes, Smith’s Market, Hart’s Crossing Community Church, Shepherd of the Valley Lutheran Church, White Cloud Medical Clinic, Sawtooth Dentistry, and both the junior and senior high schools. Angie managed to make it all that way without anyone stopping to say how good it was to see her back in town.

Her luck didn’t last once she was inside Main Street Drug. She turned a corner into an aisle and ran right into Bill Palmer. Literally.

“Whoa!” he said as he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. A moment later, his brown eyes widened. “Angie?”

“Hello, Bill.” She took a step back. “How are you?”

“I’m great.” He looked her up and down, his gaze not discourteous but definitely intent. “No need to ask how you’re doing. You look fabulous.”

A flush warmed her cheeks. “Thanks.”

As a freshman in high school, Angie’d had a bad crush on Bill Palmer, the handsome senior class president. From afar, of course. He hadn’t known she existed.

“So you’re here to look after your mom while she’s recuperating. The surgery’s next Monday, right?”

“Yes.”
I guess nothing’s ever private in a place like Hart’s Crossing.

She didn’t know the half of it.

“I heard Brad Wentworth got the city editor position at the
Bay City Times
.”

Angie felt the color drain from her face. “How did you know that?”

“It’s a small world. E-mails zip across the country in seconds. Editors talk.”

She released a soft groan.

“Yeah. That’s how I feel about Wentworth. I’ve met him several times over the years, and I think he’s kind of a…Well, he’s sort of a…”

“A jerk,” she finished.

Bill laughed so loud everyone in the store turned their heads. “Exactly the word I was looking for,” he said when he brought his mirth under control and could speak again. Then he lowered his voice. “Do you think you’ll be able to work with him, feeling the way you do?”

“No.” She drew a deep breath. “I quit before coming here.”

This was information Bill hadn’t gleaned through his editorial network. His surprised expression told her so. She found some satisfaction in that, at least.

He recovered quickly enough. “Ever think of working for a small town paper?” His mouth curved into a grin. “I could put you to work at the
Press
.”

Funny. Working for a small town newspaper like the
Mountain View Press
was the absolute last thing Angie had ever wanted to do. But right then she couldn’t for the life of her remember why.

* * *

Bill Palmer looked into Angie’s gold-flecked hazel eyes and suspected he was a goner. It wasn’t as if he’d never looked into them before. He’d grown up in this town with Angie, had seen her at community functions while they were still in school, and had run into her on her infrequent visits to see her mother after she’d left home. But suddenly, standing there in aisle four of Main Street Drug, Bill
really
saw her.

For one moment, he thought he detected a glimmer of interest in her eyes, but then she told him she had to hurry back home. Something about lots of work awaiting her. Then she grabbed a ream of paper off a nearby shelf, said good-bye, and hurried away.

Wow! What do you think of that?

Bill’s closest friends knew he was a romantic, and in a town the size of Hart’s Crossing, he doubted there was anyone who didn’t know he’d like to marry and have kids of his own. But even more than that, he wanted to marry the right woman. He wanted a marriage that was blessed by God. So he’d waited.

Something in his heart told him his waiting might be over.

Terri Sampson stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection as she swept her curly red hair off her neck. As summer approached, it was tempting to cut it short. But she wouldn’t. Short hair made her resemble a wire brush that had gone to rust.

The bell over the salon door jingled, and Terri released her hair and turned, thinking her next appointment had arrived early. But it was Bill Palmer.

“Hey,” she said in greeting.

“Hey, yourself.”

After Terri’s husband left her and their divorce was final—more than five years ago now—mutual friends had encouraged the never-married Bill to ask Terri out. Of course she’d said yes when he finally did. After all, Bill was funny and thoughtful, not to mention handsome. What woman wouldn’t want to go out with him? But they’d both known on the first date that romance wasn’t in their future. However, they’d found the next best thing—a close friendship.

“How’s the beauty business?” he asked.

“Beautiful. How’s the word business?”

“Wordy.”

Bill made his way to the back room and returned a short while later with an open pop can in hand.

“Help yourself,” Terri said, grinning.

He took a swig. “Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.”

Terri sat in the styling chair and gave it a shove with one foot, spinning it around one time.

“Slow day?” Bill perched on the edge of the dryer chair, forearms resting on his thighs.

“A little. I’ve got about thirty minutes until my next appointment. You?”

“Finished my last article an hour ago.” He took another drink of soda. “Guess who I ran into over at the drugstore earlier today? Angie Hunter.”

Terri cocked an eyebrow.

“Has she always been this pretty? Or have I been comatose for the past two decades?”

Bill…and Angie? Hmm.
What could be more perfect than to have her two favorite people in the world find love with each other? Except that Angie hated Hart’s Crossing and Bill loved it. And besides, Bill had a strong Christian faith and Angie…Well, Angie didn’t.

“Did you know she quit her job at the
Bay City Times
?” Bill asked.