The first time I drove into Bluefern, I had my doubts, and not just about the weather. Truth told, it wasn’t so much a town as a clump of brick buildings. Besides the grocery store, post office, diner, and Blue Bonnet Tavern, and a sad-sack motel on the edge of town, there wasn’t much to see.

  Pacific Mutual had bought one of the original brick buildings right on the main street of town. Although it had had been empty for decades, the bones were good. The most challenging aspect had been the hundred-year-old plumbing. Fortunately, I’d already flipped three houses back in California and knew a thing or two about how to wrangle a remodel.

  I’d met Jennie’s husband, Mark, when he’d come in to install all new plumbing. He’d mentioned his wife was looking for work. When she came in for an interview, I knew she’d be perfect for the teller position. I’d been right. Of all the employees I’d ever had, she was the most efficient and reliable. Despite her buttoned-up personality, in direct juxtaposition to my jocular style, we got along well. Jennie was not one you’d ever find at the end of a party wearing a lampshade, but her trustworthy personality made up for her lack of fun. I mean, handling people’s money in a small town required discretion and integrity. She had those in spades.

  I’d been given a generous moving bonus for agreeing to take the manager position in the middle of nowhere. During the first couple of weeks as a Montana resident, I set out to find a place to live. I figured I’d just rent, not knowing how long I’d be here. However, that was before I saw the old farmhouse, located just west of the Crescent Moon Ranch property. The local Realtor told me the run-down house had originally belonged to the McKinnon family, but five acres had been sold off in the 1940s. The house and barn had been built just after the end of the Second World War. Until their deaths in the late nineties, the house and property had been home to the Browns and their two children. Since they’d passed, the children had decided to keep the house and use it as a rental income. None of the subsequent renters bothered to keep the place up. After the last renters had trashed the place, it stood empty for a decade, making a cozy nest for mice and a few nasty rats. The Brown family was only too happy to get rid of it when I made a lowball offer. It had been unlivable when I’d signed the paperwork, which meant I had to rent a room at the motel in town until I could finish repairs and remodeling.

  Growing up, I’d learned how to fix nearly anything that broke—everything from a leaky faucet to putting up new drywall. When I walked into that creaky house, it was readily apparent I’d have my work cut out for me. Regardless, I’d never been afraid of hard work. It might take a while, I’d figured, but I could make the place shine again. For the first six months, I’d spent my days at the bank and my evenings and weekends working on my farmhouse.

  About a month after I’d bought the old place, I’d discovered a mama cat and five kittens in the loft in the barn. I’d taken the lot of them to a shelter in Bozeman, hoping they’d be adopted. The kittens had gone quickly but no one wanted the mama. In a moment of impulsivity, I’d brought her home with me. She took to me right away, following me around in a way I’d have expected from a dog, not a cat. It might have been the wet food I gave her every night or my warm lap that won her over to my side. Whatever it was, we fell madly in love. She chased away all the critters. I made sure my lap was available. A perfect relationship.

  Penny was a big help during my house renovation, too. Her contributions weren’t completely obvious, but I could see her intentions. She’d nap nearby as I tore down walls and yanked out floorboards but was always keen to accompany me into Bozeman to the home supply store. Those trips were so frequent that the employees knew Penny and me by name.

  By early fall, I’d finished up the last of the work just in time for the cold weather and the holidays. Not that I had anyone to share them with. Other than Penny, of course. We liked to watch football together, so that was a comfort, despite my loneliness.

  Penny napped near the heating duct by the breakfast nook. I poured myself another cup of coffee in my charming kitchen. What I was going to do today? It was Saturday, and I had no plans. Back home, I would have hiked in the afternoon with my buddy Carl, then maybe gone to dinner with some other friends. Sunday I always took my mom to church.

  I took another sip of my coffee. The familiar homesick feeling washed over me. Moments like this, I had to ask myself—what was I doing out here? I knew no one. Single women were scarce. Most of the men my age were married with families and thus not interested in going for a beer on a Saturday night.

  Keeping busy all these months kept a lot of my homesickness at bay. Yet I missed Mom and my friends. Call me a mama’s boy, but I adored my mother. It had always been just the two of us. If she were ever lonely for a husband or a house full of pitter-pattering feet, she never said anything to me. Plus, we had each other. We’d had so many good times. Every Friday night had been movie night. We’d sat on opposite ends of the couch passing Milk Duds and popcorn back and forth. I knew every rom-com as well as any of the girls in my class.

  Now here I was in a four-bedroom house with no one but me and Penny. Honestly, the weekends without remodeling tasks had me feeling a little lonesome. But no, I wouldn’t let myself get all melancholy. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself served no one.

  I’d call my mother. See how she was getting along. She was coming for a visit Thanksgiving weekend, and I couldn’t wait. My secret plan was to get her to move out here. When I’d mentioned it before, she’d expressed interest but quickly reminded me that she had a good job as an executive assistant with good benefits. What would she do for work in such a small town? She’d had a good point. As much as I’d have loved to have her move in with me, I knew she wouldn’t be happy. She valued her independence. A loyal group of girlfriends kept her busy and social outside of work. Out here, she would have only me.

  I dug my phone out of my back pocket and punched in Mom’s number. She answered on the second ring.

  “Honey, how are you?”

  She always answered with a slight trepidation in her voice, as if I were going to tell her bad news.

  “I’m fine. I am officially done with my renovation and all ready for your visit.” I glanced around my kitchen at the gleaming appliances and attractive sage-green backsplash. I’d had the original floors refinished with a dark stain, and the rich patterns in the wood had come through beautifully.

  Penny meowed and jumped up on the counter to rub herself against my forearm. I set aside my coffee to give her a good scratch and a few hard pets the way she liked. No gentle rubs for this one. She liked her massages with a little muscle behind them.

  “Have you met anyone?” Mom asked.

  By "anyone," she meant a woman.

  “No. Everyone’s married here.”

  “You should go out tonight. Visit that tavern you told me about. Maybe some other young people will be there, you know, doing whatever one does in a bar.”

  “Yeah, okay. Maybe.” I chuckled, picturing her in her little kitchen with the long cord from the phone resting on her slender legs. She refused to get a flip phone, saying she didn’t need any such foolishness since she only talked to me. Which wasn’t true. She had her friends. None of whom had mobile phones either, so I guessed they were all in denial of the modern world together. “What about you, Mom? How are the girls?”

  They called each other girls even though they were all in their late forties or early fifties.

  “It’s funny you should ask. Martha has a serious boyfriend. They’re getting married. Can you imagine? At our age?”

  “Mom, you’re only forty-eight. That’s hardly old.”

  “Tell that to my sagging rear end.”

  “Mom, please.” I laughed. “Can we not talk about your rear end?”

  “It’s a natural part of a person. Anyway, it’s good to hear you don’t think I’m too old to date because I’ve met someone. Nothing serious, as of yet, so don’t get overly worried.”

  “Tell me about him,” I said.

  “Not yet. We’ll see if it’s anything before I tell you too much.”

  A knock on the door drew my attention away from our conversation. “Mom, there’s someone at the door. I have to go.”

  “Oh yes, do that. I hope it’s a new little friend for you.”

  I stifled another laugh. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

  Penny jumped off the counter and ran to the door, obviously as excited as I was for a visitor. I was surprised to see Jennie standing there. Her eleven-year-old daughter stood behind her, copper hair pulled into a braid that hung down her back. She held a plate of what looked like brownies. I really hoped it was. I loved brownies.

  “Hello, ladies. What brings you by?”

  “We wanted to congratulate you on finishing your remodel,” Jennie said.

  “I made brownies.” Annie stepped forward, offering the plate. I immediately caught a whiff of chocolate and butter.

  “How did you know I was craving brownies?” I asked.

  “I didn’t, Mr. Moon.” Annie peeked up at me from a pair of hazel eyes. Adorable freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. “But I like them anytime, don’t you?”

  “For sure.” I backed away from the door. “Come on in.”

  I led them out of the foyer and into my bright, modern kitchen. “Would either of you like a brownie? Cup of coffee?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Moon,” Annie said. “I have rehearsal for our recital in a few minutes.”

  “Annie’s a dancer,” Jennie said.

  “A dancing student,” Annie said. “Mrs. Marple says we’re not dancers unless someone pays us for it.”

  I assumed she didn’t mean the kind of dancer that specialized in poles or laps.

  “Annie takes classes at the little studio in town,” Jennie said. “Mrs. Marple danced in New York City when she was younger and never forgets to work it into a conversation.”

  “Mom, be nice.” Annie’s cheeks flushed an even rosier shade of pink. “Mrs. Marple’s lonely. The studio’s all she has.”

  Jennie didn’t respond to her daughter, glancing around the kitchen. “This is gorgeous. How did you do this while working full-time?”

  “Like Mrs. Marple, I’m lonely,” I said, smiling. “Lots of time on my hands.” I turned toward Annie. “Your father put in all new plumbing for me.”

  “Cool.” Annie dropped to the floor to greet Penny. Having no shame whatsoever, Penny climbed into Annie’s lap and started purring. Quite loudly. It was amazing how much sound could come out of such a small creature.

  “I met Renee Cox yesterday at the diner,” I said. “She’s…um…interesting.”

  Jennie laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “She got nervous when I mentioned interest in entering the pie-baking contest.”

  Jennie’s eyes twinkled. “I wish I’d seen her face. Renee always wins. She’s absolutely insufferable about it.”

  “Mrs. Cox makes a very good pie,” Annie said diplomatically.

  “And she’s not afraid to tell everyone either,” Jennie said.

  “How many pies can one person enter?” I asked, thinking about my apple and cherry varieties. They were equally good, in my humble opinion. Fresh or frozen cherries were key, not the overly sugary kind from a can.

  “How many pies?” Jennie tugged on her earring while tilting her head to one side, clearly perplexed by my question. “One, I guess?”

  “Are you really going to enter, Mr. Moon?” Annie’s eyes sparkled. “It would be awesome if you won.”

  “Maybe I will. My apple pie’s provoked a few marriage proposals.”

  “Really?” Annie asked.

  “Okay, only one,” I said. “And she was eighty years old, so I’m not certain she was serious.”

  Annie laughed. “That must be some good pie, Mr. Moon.”

  “Wouldn’t it cause a stir if Renee Cox was finally usurped of her title?” Jennie rubbed her hands together as if she were a rebel plotting an overthrow of a kingdom.

  “I can try,” I said. “If you think the contest isn’t rigged?”

  Jennie stared at me. “Rigged? Never. In fact, there’s a raffle every year to win Mrs. Ford’s quilt. She makes one especially for the occasion, and one year someone cheated in order to win, but they were caught soon enough and the rightful owner was given their quilt. Justice is always served in Bluefern.”

  How did one cheat in a raffle? Weren’t there tickets with numbers?

  “The festival’s great fun,” Jennie said. “A clean and wholesome family day.”

  Annie played with the end of her braid, sweeping it across her fingers like a brush. “Not completely wholesome. Remember the beer garden last year?”

  “A few of the dads did act a little silly toward the end of the day,” Jennie said. “But that’s nothing to call them out on. Those men work hard every single day of the year. If they want to blow off a little steam, then what’s it to you?”

  “Atticus’s dad didn’t work hard every day of the year, and he was the drunkest.” Annie’s chin jutted out slightly and her eyes flashed. “Atticus wanted to die when his dad knocked over Santa’s reindeer.”

  “Fine, there are exceptions.” Jennie raised one eyebrow and turned back to me. “Regardless of some bad behavior, it’s still good times. We have a parade, and the park’s transformed into a magical place with lights strewn all about. We roast a whole pig, and the ladies all bring sides to share. I’m famous for my mac and cheese.” Jennie lifted a hand. “Don’t ask me what my secret ingredient is, because I can’t tell you.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it,” I said.

  “Caspian thinks he knows what it is,” Annie said.

  Jenny shook her head. “He should focus more on his studies than messing around in his mother’s kitchen.”

  “Who’s Caspian?” I asked.

  “Stella’s second-oldest son. For nine, he’s strangely handy in the kitchen,” Jennie said.

  “He’s totally obsessed with cooking,” Annie said. “His chocolate chunk cookies are to die for.”

  “Anyway, you’ll be one of our special guests this year,” Jennie said. “We have a ceremony to welcome our newcomers. You’re our only one this year. Last year we made a big fuss over the new owner of the gas station only to find out later he was a criminal. It was awful. That’s a long story that I’ll have to tell you about when Annie’s not around. It’s kind of salacious.”

  “In that case, I’ll be sure to attend the festival and enter a pie into the contest,” I said.

  “The other thing—are you free tonight?” Jennie asked. “Mark and I are taking Stella out for dinner and drinks at the Blue Bonnet. You want to join us?”

  I studied her for a second before answering. “Is this a setup?”

  She widened her eyes and looked slightly offended. “No, nothing like that. She and her husband just broke up.”

  “She mentioned something about that. What happened?” I kept my voice casual, even though I was anxious to learn more about why a man would leave a woman who looked like Stella. Brains, too. And funny.

  “They were unsuited,” Jennie said noncommittally.

  “Atticus says he has a side piece,” Annie said. “He started disappearing for hours at a time and coming home drunk.”

  Jennie flinched. “Annie, really?”

  “Is Atticus one of Stella’s boys?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he’s the oldest of the Sharp boys. And he’s my best friend,” Annie said softly.

  “A piece of work, that one,” Jennie said, shaking her head.

  “She means that he’s like a hundred years old,” Annie said. “And perfect.”

  “An old soul?” I asked.

  “Exactly.” Annie shot a triumphant glance in her mother's direction, clearly happy that I seemed to understand.

  “He’s intelligent.” Jennie sniffed. “Some might describe him as nerdy.”

  “Our science teacher says nerds will have the last laugh,” Annie said.

  “Laugh? About what?” Jennie’s brows came together, clearly confused.

  “Never mind, Mom.” Annie returned to stroking Penny’s ears.

  “Stella was supersmart at school too,” Jennie said. “She was supposed to go to college on a scholarship but apparently God had other plans for her when she got pregnant the summer after high school.”

  I nodded, thinking of my own mother. “It happens.” It wasn’t a new tale or a unique one, either. Still, it must have been hard to have a baby before you’d even felt grown yourself.

  “What about tonight? You up for it?” Jennie asked.

  “I’d love to,” I said. “Weekends have seemed long since I finished the house.”

  “Great, we’ll meet you there at seven,” Jennie said. “Wear something casual. Not one of your suits.”

  “Right. Got it.” Did she really think I would wear a suit to the Blue Bonnet? How uptight did she think I was?

  I held the door open for mother and daughter and watched as they walked across my yard to their truck. Penny rubbed against my ankle, so I picked her up before shutting the door behind us. “I have a lot to learn, old girl. I hope whatever the initiation is doesn’t hurt.”

  Penny yawned, completely uninterested in my plight. Typical cat.

  7

  Stella

  I sat on the edge of the bed in my room and fought the urge to shred my fingernails with my teeth. A bad habit that had wanted to come back since Rex left. Jennie smoking and me with my fingernail biting—we’d gone back to high school.

  I’d agreed to go out. Which meant I must get ready. Put on something presentable. Fix my hair and my makeup.

  Dinner out at Blue Bonnet was more than I’d done in a long time. Why did it sound hard? It was just Jennie and Mark. Some steaks and a few beers. Nothing frightening. I knew them as well as I did my own family. It’s not as if there would be any pressure.