Her aunt and uncle, that’s who.

  It was like they were from a different planet, one where a lack of human decency was the norm.

  Desperate for something to do, she grabbed the top unopened letter, a distraction. It wasn’t a bill or spam, but a nice rose-colored envelope. But it was addressed to Eliza Baron.

  Mindlessly, she tore it open.

  “Belle,” her aunt began, “we’ve hit on hard times and were hoping…”

  Belle zoned out her aunt. That was one thing she’d learned to do. Hard times? That was why they were here. They wanted something from her. They wanted to move in. They wanted her house and the property. Belle knew it. They wanted to take everything from her, leave her with nothing.

  She pulled a thick piece of paper out of the envelope. It appeared like a wedding invitation with a raised cursive font.

  It was an invitation to a birthday weekend getaway for a Molly St. James. The words blurred in front of Belle. She had never heard of a Molly St. James. It was for this weekend. Belle hadn’t opened it in time. She would have to leave today.

  “Of course, of course,” her uncle said, worming his way into the conversation, though it couldn’t really be called a conversation. More like them yapping. “Of course, we thought of you, Belle. After years of sacrifice, opening our home to you when you were in need, we thought of you when those shysters foreclosed on our home.”

  Something shut down in Belle. It closed off so fast, it left her breathless. Or maybe it was the silent rage coursing through her body, causing her body to shake. She ignored thoughts of picking up the ugly and heavy lamp and hitting her uncle in the head. She ignored thoughts of picking up a kitchen knife and slamming it through his chest, watching as he died.

  And she felt nothing.

  That was the worst part. She’d convinced herself she didn’t want revenge. She was letting the past go. But here it was, right in front of her face, like a wart with a long black hair growing from it.

  She couldn’t ignore the ugly feelings.

  Her uncle kept talking about how much Belle owed them and that it wouldn’t be too long. They needed to shelter here. And they missed her. Belle’s two worlds overlapped, mixing, like a child’s painting, the colors smeared across the page, no symmetry or meaning. Just scribbling. Just angry swaths of color.

  “No,” she said, quietly.

  Her uncle kept talking, but her aunt had heard, and now her simpering aunt changed from meek and mild to enraged. She kicked Uncle Rupert in the shins, a swift backward kick that showed more coordination than usual. “Stop yammering, you fool. She said no.”

  “Of course she didn’t say no. She owes us,” he said, stepping to his wife’s side. “Right, Belle?”

  Belle took a slow deep breath, her legs trembling. She felt ready to collapse and crawl into a corner. She could do this. She had to do this. She wasn’t the same person who left their home four years ago. “I said no.”

  Uncle Rupert stepped forward, his mouth twisting into a crooked sneer. “Of course, you’ll have us.” His hot breath hit her like a blast. “Or we’ll leave you with nothing. We’re suing for rightful ownership of this property and if you want anything, you’ll play nice.”

  Could they do that? Did they have any right to it?

  They couldn’t. She’d read the will.

  Oh, why hadn’t she said yes to everything right away? Maybe there was some sort of clause she didn’t know about.

  She stumbled back, turned, and headed to her bedroom. She grabbed a bag and shoved anything she could find into it. What had the invitation mentioned? A lake house? In went her bathing suit, towel, jammies, a dress, casual shorts and tops. She made a sweep of the bathroom, grabbing her toiletries. Okay, fine, she still had some suitcases left to unpack, but she’d managed to about halfway move in permanently.

  Back downstairs, she opened Sir Jack’s cage, and like he’d been trained, he hopped onto her shoulder. Now she was scrambling, desperate to leave.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Uncle Rupert accused. “You can’t just walk out on us. Who will cook us dinner?”

  Belle stilled, her back turned to them. There was so much she wanted to say to them, let them know how much they’d abused her mother’s trust, and how terribly they’d treated her. That if they had been anything even close to nice, she would have helped them. They could’ve had a wonderful relationship.

  Slowly, she turned. “I’m leaving for the weekend.” Her words sounded shaky. Another deep breath. “When I return, you need to be gone or I’ll call the cops.”

  He laughed, mocking and loud, but Belle saw the truth of it in her aunt’s nervous twitch of the lips. She slugged him. “You fool. You weren’t supposed to threaten her.”

  “Don’t talk to me that way, woman.”

  Belle grabbed her bag and walked out of the house while they were still yelling at each other.

  She had some errands before she could leave for this big birthday weekend. See if Joy would watch Sir Jack. Forsythia and the Women’s Charitable Organization had big plans, and Belle would have to cancel her part in it. And then, she had to talk to Bixby.

  Chapter Three

  Lucas was desperate.

  He was holed up in his bedroom staring at his computer screen. Rental after rental flashed by. Everything booked. Of course, it was summer. Right before the weekend he wanted a rental.

  They were supposed to leave today.

  It was summer break. He’d planned a wonderful weekend vacation for them. A rented Airbnb, right on a lake, with kayaks and a motor boat for tubing.

  It was—or it had been—perfect timing. There were no important cases. He was off this weekend. It was supposed to be boiling hot. Like he thought, perfect.

  Until he received an email this morning that the owner had to cancel. Something about burst pipes. Lucas was almost ready to email back and beg. What was a little flooding in the basement? They could work with that.

  He was not the type to give up without putting in as much extra effort as he could muster, but he was close to the end.

  Making memories for Lexie was high on his list of priorities. It had been since she’d come to live with him. Sure, they’d had their share of ups and downs, but they’d always made it through, their relationship stronger for it.

  The night before, Lexie had packed, jamming everything into the suitcase and laying it by the door. She wanted to sleep in her sleeping bag on the floor downstairs to make sure she’d be ready to go. He’d convinced her that wouldn’t make their departure time arrive sooner.

  Now, she was downstairs, probably sitting on her suitcase or at the table, waiting for breakfast. In her mind, anything to make the day go by faster.

  After one last desperate search, he closed his laptop with a sigh. Nothing. Yes, there were some hotels but he’d rather put the weekend off so it could be exactly what he wanted.

  The biggest problem now was breaking the news to Lexie. They’d deal with it together. It wasn’t life altering, but he hated to disappoint her.

  He headed downstairs, already forcing the smile. “Hey, there, kiddo. Want some pancakes to start the day?” He definitely sounded too cheerful.

  “How about cereal?” She was sitting at the table.

  “Hmm. I don’t remember you ever being up this early, dressed and ready to go during the school year?” he teased. He wanted to add, Something important happening today? Except, nothing was happening. “Cereal for breakfast, just like sleeping down here, will not make the day go faster.”

  “Fine. I just can’t wait. My friends at school talk about family lake houses. Some of them own two houses.”

  She enthusiastically babbled on while he pulled out all the ingredients and stirred them into the bowl. He nodded at her comments, making sure to pay attention. He should just come right out and tell her, but for some reason, he couldn’t do it.

  He could face dangerous criminals before he wanted to face Lexie’s sagging disappointment.

  “Um, Uncle Luc?”

  He stopped stirring. “What?”

  She eyed the lower cabinet. “What about the griddle?”

  “Oh, right. Of course.” He turned and pulled out the griddle. It wouldn’t take long for it to heat up. Just enough time to add in some chocolate chips. He rooted around in the cupboards. He had some in here somewhere from the last time he made chocolate chip pancakes.

  Bag of chips in-hand, he plopped the bowl on the counter. “Want to stir them into the batter?”

  Her expression changed. Her eyes went wide, as she studied him. Her whole body sagged, like a balloon deflating. Her vibrant smile drooped into a frown, then she folded her arms across her chest. “Something’s wrong.”

  What? Geez. She must be related to a detective or something. It was time. He sat down next to her. He also knew to just tell her. No starting out with the words, I have bad news. In her mind, phrases like that meant someone died. And a postponed vacation was not the death of a loved one.

  He sighed. “The owners of the rental house emailed this morning and cancelled on us.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Something about pipes bursting.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice sounding small. “I knew something happened.” She glanced at him. “Whenever you make chocolate chip pancakes, it’s because you have bad news.”

  He wrapped his arm around her, making the mental note to whip up some chocolate chip pancakes once a week and follow it up with good news, however small. “I’m sorry. I should have told you right away.” That’s when the answer came to him. “Maybe our vacation weekend isn’t totally ruined.”

  She perked up. “A surprise trip to Paris instead?”

  “What?”

  “A friend at school is going to Paris this summer.”

  “I wasn’t thinking anything quite that grand.” He returned to the kitchen and got the first round of pancakes started. “How about a staycation? We pack our weekend with all the fun things.”

  “S’mores?”

  Relief whooshed through him as Lexie picked up and showed enthusiasm for his idea. “Yes, around a campfire.”

  “And we sleep in the backyard under the stars?” she asked.

  “How about in a tent?”

  “Okay. What else?”

  He scrambled for ideas. “A backgammon marathon.”

  “We do that anyway.”

  “No cooking. Instead, we’ll order take-out every night.”

  “Pizza? Chinese?” she asked.

  “Yes and yes.”

  The ideas gushed forth. “We can sing songs. Collect fireflies in jars then let them loose. Go bowling. Go to the movies. Miniature golf.”

  Lexie beamed, her smile spreading at every suggestion.

  He served up the first round of pancakes and grabbed the maple syrup. “You know, you are an amazing kid.”

  Not for the first time, he saw how everything she had gone through had given her a maturity and a perspective on life that most kids her age didn’t have.

  “You know, this doesn’t mean our original vacation won’t happen. We’ll just wait until later this summer.”

  “I’ve got the best idea in the world,” she said, mouth full of pancake.

  “What’s that?”

  “We go to The Beanery to start.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Now if only he could recover from his disappointment.

  After cleaning up, Lucas changed in his room. With a sigh, he stopped looking at the laptop. Yes, he was happy they’d made some plans and Lexie was okay with it. But he couldn’t shake off his bad mood. It might take a little while to adjust. They would make the weekend fun, but it wouldn’t be the same thing.

  And a staycation with a grumpy Uncle Lucas wouldn’t be fun.

  Chapter Four

  It didn’t take long to stop at Joy’s, another small business owner in town and parrot-lover. Joy had birds of her own and had already offered to watch Sir Jack if ever Belle needed someone.

  She stepped into Joy’s shop with Sir Jack on her shoulder.

  “Really?” Joy’s face lit-up. “How long do I have him for?”

  “The weekend if that works for you.”

  “Of course.” Joy was like the parrot-whisperer. Within minutes she had him perched on her hand and in a cage she had in the back of her shop. “We’ll have a great weekend together.”

  “Thank you,” Belle said, then, not wanting the questions, added, “I’m off for a weekend at a lake house.” She’d add to visit a friend, but she didn’t even know this person, Molly St. James.

  “Have fun!” Joy said.

  After a zombie-like drive through town to Forsythia’s home, Belle’s thoughts were scattered. Bits and pieces of the recent conversation flashed through her mind, the look, the sneer from Uncle Rupert. Aunt Rose and her saccharine sweet words.

  But no.

  She wouldn’t let them have power over her.

  She was leaving for a birthday weekend getaway. Today. That would give her uncle and aunt time to leave. Hopefully.

  It would give her time to come up with a plan.

  Of course, skipping the Women’s Charitable Organization was tempting, but she’d made a commitment, and in the next hour or so, Belle would have to break that commitment.

  Forsythia Wright, the intrepid leader of the group, was a force to be reckoned with, and so far, Belle had played nice with the matriarch. For the fundraisers, the group had given her a lot of the grunt work, like canvasing businesses for donations; as if she were in a trial period. She’d done it all without complaint. All new members were given the busy work and eventually she’d graduate. Right?

  Tomorrow was the big summer fundraiser. It was called A Night to Remember. In the town’s park, there would be food vendors and local merchants selling their wares, but the main attraction was the cover band.

  Belle was in charge of selling tickets for a fifty-fifty raffle. The winner would take home half the winnings, the other half would go to the Women’s Charitable Organization. This time there wasn’t a table. No, they wanted her to wander through the crowds, hand-selling the tickets.

  Well, they’d have to find someone else.

  “Why hello, Belle.” Forsythia greeted her at the door, a tight smile showing her disappointment that Belle was late. Her long flowery dress, meant for coolness, was like a tent around her large frame. Normally, Belle would squash a smile or offer a compliment.

  Today she mumbled some sort of apology for being late and entered the room. She found a seat toward the back, taking in, but not really seeing, the women she’d come to know in the past year. They were all well-intentioned.

  Clutched in Belle’s hand was the fancy invitation. It was like a lifeline, a raft, and she was about to drown. Why was she even here? Well, that had been on her schedule and she needed to tell them she was stepping out at the last minute.

  Forsythia made her way back to the front of the room. “Now that everyone is here, we can proceed to talk about tomorrow.” She flashed Belle a pointed look then turned to someone else. “Minnie, have you heard from the vendors? Any last-minute mishaps there?”

  Minnie Kratz smiled. She was Lexie’s former teacher, and the only young adult other than Belle. “One had to cancel due to a family emergency, but all the rest will be arriving before noon to set up.”

  “Oh, dear.” Forsythia’s nails tapped against the wooden arm of her chair. “We should offer something there instead. We can’t have an empty table. Belle, why don’t you come up with something for a table. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

  Forsythia didn’t even wait for Belle to say yes, or respond in any way. She moved onto the next thing on the list. It was easy to tune out Forsythia’s voice as Belle wrestled internally. There was the desire to please these women and try, like her Aunt Eliza had asked her to do. Eliza wanted Belle to continue the efforts to make a difference in the town of Everly. But right then, really, she just needed to leave town.

  The words built up inside, her body growing more tense as each minute passed while they talked about mundane things, that right now, Belle didn’t care about. Finally, feeling the pressure of needing to leave, she stood and cleared her throat.

  Everyone stopped talking. Forsythia grunted with annoyance. “Yes, Belle. Do you have something to say?”

  The words tumbled out. “I’m sure it will be great tomorrow. The band will be great. The food, the vendors. Lots of people will come. I’m sure.”

  “Of course, they will,” Forsythia said, indignantly.

  It was Judy who finally noticed. “Are you okay, Belle?”

  “She’s fine,” Forsythia stated, trying to wrest back control.

  “Actually”—Belle looked at everyone but no one—“I can’t make it tomorrow.” She stepped away from the group as they let out their faux gasps. “I have to go.” She stopped at the door, trying to make up for her cancellation. She flashed everyone a smile, then left.

  Forsythia moved on, ordering others to take Belle’s place. They’d never trust her again.

  Right now, she didn’t care.

  In her car, she fumbled with the key, then finally it jammed into the ignition. The station wagon rumbled to life, and Belle drove to The Beanery. She thought about a wonderful weekend at a lake house, swimming and sunshine and laughter. She’d invite her friends. Yes, that’s what she would do. She would go to a party and all this would disappear.

  Minutes later, she walked into The Beanery, the scent of Bixby’s baking and coffee folding her in like a hug. It was home. Bixby normally popped out from the kitchen right away with a cheerful smile.

  This time, he stepped out with a professional smile of greeting, like she was a customer. He stopped, the smile changing to an expression of surprise. “I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Oh,” Belle said.

  “You didn’t open and close the door twice. I know how much you love hearing the welcome bell jingle.” He studied her with a friendly but concerned smile. “You need some coffee. Just in time to try my new summer flavor during this heat wave.”