“I’ll fill you in on all the gory details eventually.” The flames painted her beautiful face with exhaustion. “Believe me, they are gory.”

Caroline stabbed a dry stick into the fire. “Okay, it’s official. I’m never going to look at a man. Ever.”

“Famous last words.”

“Speaking of last.” She downed the rest of her wine. “I saw Will Jensen,” she said. Not exactly a safe topic, but the wine was melting her reserve.

Virginia sat forward. “Already?”

“He was at the Bait & Switch early this morning when I rolled into town. Out running with a group of kids.”

“He does that,” she said with a nod. “High school coach. And?”

“And nothing.” Yet a sudden strange flutter in her gut didn’t feel like nothing. “The kids were having a meltdown, so I pulled over at the store, and he helped me out.”

“And?” Virginia persisted.

He looked wonderful, Caroline thought. He looked like the reason she hadn’t had a sustainable relationship with anyone in a decade. “You tell me. I saw him for like two minutes at six in the morning.”

“He and Sierra moved to the old Jensen place on the bay.”

“I’m sure you’ll get a chance to catch up with Sierra,” said Mom. “That will be nice. You girls used to be so close.”

Nice—like hitting herself in the head with a hammer? She and Sierra had been best friends growing up. There had been a time when they’d harbored no secrets between them. When they’d shared everything, even—

“Will whipped the football team into fine shape,” said Jackson. “Best thing that ever happened to the Peninsula Mariners.” He looked at his watch. “And this Mariner is heading off to bed.”

“Huh,” Virginia teased. “I bet you have a hot date.”

“I’m in the middle of reading a hot new novel.”

“Jealous,” Caroline said, standing up and giving him a hug. “I’ve gone to sleep every night reading The Pout-Pout Fish and The Emperor’s New Clothes.”

“Good choice for a designer,” Virginia said.

“Really? Because the point is, the emperor is naked.”

“Wait until you see what they’ve done to the town library,” Mom said. “It’s doubled in size. There’s a story hour every day. Your kids will love that.”

They’re not my kids, thought Caroline.

Oh, but they were.

Caroline crawled into bed in the room that used to belong to Georgia. The settling sounds of the old wooden house and the murmur of the surf in the distance were the lullaby of her childhood.

There was a quality of sleep that happened only here at home. Surrounded by the cocoon of warmth imparted by a quilt softened by years, Caroline surrendered to a sense of utter security. Whether warranted or not, being here in the place where she had grown up felt safe—a feeling she had not experienced in a very long time. She slipped deeper into the crisp, sun-scented bed linens and released a sigh of relief.

This reprieve from worry was only temporary. She knew that. Her problems, like her new life, were just getting started. She had to make a new plan, not just for herself but now for the two children who had become her responsibility. She had no idea where to start.

Start here, she thought. Start now.

Her family had gathered around with soothing noises and gratifying reassurances. But coming back here felt like a step backward.

Later, she thought, tucking her arm around the freshly laundered pillowcase. I’ll figure things out later. For the moment, she snuggled into the comfort of a familiar bed. Finally, she was about to get a good night’s sleep. She was floating toward sweet oblivion when she heard a little blip of distress.

No, it was just her imagination.

Another blip, followed by a sniff.

Caroline blinked into the darkness. “Addie?” she whispered.

Two small silhouettes were framed in the doorway.

“We can’t sleep.”

Great.

“Of course you can sleep,” she said. “You’ve been sleeping like champs at every hotel we stayed at.”

“Because you were in the room with us,” Flick said.

“I never realized my presence was a sleep aid.”

“We’re all alone here,” Addie said, her small voice quavering. She clutched Wonder Woman to her chest.

Caroline gritted her teeth. At the same time, something different stirred inside her. She’d never been anyone’s sleep aid before. “I thought you’d be excited to have a room all to yourself.”

Silence for several beats.

“We don’t want to be all by ourselves,” Flick said.

She hadn’t minded sharing the motel rooms with them. She’d grown used to their soft sighs and occasional whimpers. “Listen. I’m super tired, too tired to argue with you. So I’ll make you a deal. You can sleep in here tonight because it’s your first night. Starting tomorrow, you sleep in your bed all night every night.”

The kids looked at each other. Then back at Caroline. With an elongated sigh, she lifted the blanket. They snuggled in like puppies, rustling a bit and then settling down, nestled close against her.

Caroline turned out the light.

Chapter 8

Fabric shops all had a peculiar, distinctive scent, subtle and evocative, a waft of nostalgia. When Caroline stepped through the door of Lindy’s Fabric and Notions and took a breath, she recognized the aroma of dry goods and dye, sweet machine oil and tailor’s chalk, and dried lavender and bergamot from the display of fine imported tea, one of Lindy’s sidelines.

Familiarity washed over her as she took in her surroundings. Even the jangle of the little brass bell over the door awakened memories. The shop had been like a second home to Caroline while she was growing up. She’d spent countless hours here, learning the basics of sewing and design that had become her life’s passion.

This was her first venture away from the children since Angelique’s death, and she felt a tangible release of tension. Her mother had gathered Flick and Addie in like a hen clucking over a clutch of eggs, and she’d shooed Caroline off with a brisk flap of her apron. “Take a little time for yourself,” she’d said. “I’m in charge now. Go have a look around town.”

Caroline had seized on the opportunity. She needed it. Needed to be something other than a worrier. Needed to find her next logical step. So naturally the path led her to Lindy’s.

“Hello, can I help you?” said the young woman behind the cutting table. She wore thick-framed glasses and an apron in a conversational birdcage print that managed to look very cool, and a name tag that read echo.

“I hope so,” Caroline said, scanning the neat rows of fabric bolts. The shop was deserted other than a marmalade cat napping in the window display. “I’m an old friend of Lindy’s. I used to work here. Is she around today?”

“There’s a familiar face,” called a voice from the workroom in the back of the shop.

Caroline felt herself light up with pleasure. “Lindy? Oh my gosh. It’s so great to see you.”

The older woman—she was about Caroline’s mom’s age—opened her arms as she bustled into the shop. “Miss Caroline Shelby, as I live and breathe. I heard a rumor that you were in town,” she said as they hugged. She stepped back, beaming. “My star pupil. How nice to see you again.”