A Soft Place to Fall
Read A Soft Place to Fall Online
Authors: Barbara Bretton
Tags: #romance, #family drama, #maine, #widow, #second chance, #love at first sight
A Soft Place to Fall
(Shelter Rock Cove - Book 1)
by
Barbara Bretton
Praise for USA Today Bestselling Author
Barbara Bretton
"A monumental talent." --Affaire de Coeur
"Very few romance writers create characters
as well-developed as Bretton's. Her books pull you in and don't let
you leave until the last word is read." --Booklist (starred
review)
"One of today's best women's fiction
authors." --The Romance Reader
"Barbara Bretton is a master at touching
readers' hearts." --Romance Reviews Today
A Soft Place to Fall
Copyright
2001, 2012 Barbara Bretton
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
For information, contact: Barbara AT
barbarabretton DOT com
Smashwords Edition
Table of Contents
How It All Began
Late summer
"No good." Warren Bancroft pushed the sheaf
of papers back across his desk. "The price is too high."
His attorney, a pig-headed Yankee named
Stoney, allowed himself to register his shock. "Too high?" He
glanced down at the number Warren had written across the top of the
appraisal. "That's absurd! It isn't high enough."
"Not a penny more." Warren capped his
fountain pen, and leaned back in his leather chair. "It would be
highway robbery."
Stoney punched the appraisal with the tip of
his forefinger. "The property alone appraised for more than
this."
"The house is the size of a broom closet,"
Warren said, enjoying the confrontation. "That's as high as I'm
going to go."
"You drive a hard bargain."
"Damn right," Warren said. "That's why I'm
rich."
Stoney took another look at the number
scrawled on the top line. "You won't stay rich long if you keep
this up."
"Call her, Stoney, and tell her I'm rejecting
her offer. If she balks, go down another ten percent."
"I suppose you want to renovate the place
while you're at it."
Warren's laughter filled the spacious office.
"I've already taken care of that. I sent a crew over this morning
to paint and spruce things up a bit."
"You'd be better off giving her the house. At
least then we could take a tax deduction."
"You're a damn fine attorney," Warren said,
"and I'm grateful for your advice. Now go do what I told you."
That was the trouble with the Ivy League
types, he thought as Stoney left the room. They thought too much.
They paid too much attention to the way things were and not enough
to the way things ought to be. Hell, if he had done that all those
years ago, he'd be another in a long line of fishermen claimed by
the sea.
Not that he hadn't made his share of
mistakes. His book was full of them, all laid out there in black
and white. Of course, he hadn't let Annie see the good stuff yet
but he would one of these days. She was only a kid of thirty-eight
after all, and she needed some more seasoning.
He could tell her a thing or two about
loneliness. He could tell her that there was nothing wrong with
spreading her wings and seeing if she still remembered how to fly.
He could tell her a lot of things but he wasn't sure she was ready
to listen. She had been loyal and true to the people she loved and
that loyalty had cost her dearly. He'd watched her grow from a
fun-loving young girl with big dreams to a quiet, tired-looking
woman with no dreams at all.
Lately he'd noticed a change in her, a
restlessness that he understood in his bones. The time was right
for new beginnings.
He reached for the dark blue folder marked
"Sam." Who would have thought the wise-talking fifteen year old
he'd met at the marina near the site of the World's Fair twenty
years ago would one day be Warren's hero? He'd never told Sam
Butler that because it would embarrass him but it was true. Warren
was more than twice Sam's age but he knew he was only half the man.
Life had dealt Sam a losing hand but somehow he'd managed to turn a
pair of deuces into a full house. Nineteen years old and left with
the care of five younger brothers and sisters – not too many men
would have put their own lives on hold to see it through, but Sam
had done exactly that.
When Sam called last week and asked if he
could rent Ellie's old house for a while, he knew that fate was
knocking on the door with both fists. Sam Butler would never take
charity but he understood a good business deal when he heard one
and the deal Warren was offering was damn close to irresistible.
Sam would have free use of a house on the water and all Warren
asked for in return was that he work on finishing the boat.
Sam took the bait.
He was pretty sure Annie would too.
The whole thing was a long shot and he knew
it. But if ever two people deserved happiness it was these two
children of his heart. Life hadn't seen fit to bless him with
children of his own but he loved Annie and Sam same as if his blood
flowed in their veins. They were two halves of the same whole and
it was up to him to bring them together.
What was the point of being rich if you
didn't use the money to take care of your own?
Chapter One
They saved the bed for last.
Annie Lacy Galloway stood at the bottom of
the stairs and watched as the two impossibly skinny young men
maneuvered the huge sleigh bed through the narrow upstairs hallway.
She winced at the sound of wood scraping against wallpaper. She
knew it would be a tight fit but she hadn't let herself consider
that it might be impossible.
The moving boys paused at the top of the
stairs and considered their options.
"How'd you ever get this up here anyway, Mrs.
G?" Michael, the one whose voice still hadn't made up its mind
between soprano and tenor, called down to her. "This is like
shoving an elephant through a keyhole."
She'd found it at a yard sale six months
after Kevin died, a wreckage of wood that looked much the way she'd
felt inside. "I feel bad taking your money for this," the man had
said as they loaded the pieces into the back of her Jeep. She spent
weeks sanding the elegant curves and flat planes, stripping away
years of neglect and damage, not even sure if the pieces could ever
be put back together again into a recognizable whole. It still
wasn't finished yet. Come spring, she intended to stain the sanded
wood a deep cherry wood then coat the whole thing with a satiny
finish that would grow more lustrous with the years.
"Turn it toward the window," she said. "Once
you clear the top of the railing, you'll have it made."
Danny, her nephew by marriage, crouched down
near the foot of the bed. "It comes apart," he said, fingering the
supports. "Maybe we could --"
"No!" Annie forced her voice down to a more
acceptable volume. The poor boys looked downright scared. "I mean,
feel free to remove the stair rails, if you have to, but please
don't touch the bed."
"You're the boss, Mrs. G," Michael said.
She turned in time to see a third moving boy
grab for the cardboard box near the front door. The box marked
"Fragile."
"Not that one." Annie raced back downstairs.
"I'm taking that one in the car with me."
"You sure?" Scotty had been Kevin's top
student, the one who was on his way toward bigger and better
things. He was smart and funny and built like a two-by-four, all
straight edges and long lines.
Scotty nailed the Bancroft
Scholarship, Kevin. You would've been so proud of him.
Years
ago, she had been the one with the Bancroft and the big dreams of
studying art one day in New York. It seemed so long ago, almost as
if those dreams had belonged to somebody else. The sight of the
young man in her foyer awoke so many memories of Christmas parties
and summer barbecues when they had opened up the house to students
and their parents. Kevin loved those parties, loved being at the
center of all the activity, laughing and joking and --
"There's plenty of room in the truck, Mrs.
G."
"That's okay, Scotty," she said, wondering
when he had started shaving. Wasn't it just yesterday that he was
raking their lawn for two bucks an hour? "I'll take it over in my
car." Her life was tucked away in that box: old love letters,
wedding photos, newspaper clippings, and sympathy notes. The sum
total of her thirty-eight years on the planet with room left over
for her best wineglasses and her journals.
He pointed toward a box resting near the
piano. "How about that one?"
Annie grinned. "Be my guest."
He hoisted it on his shoulder with a
theatrical grunt. "See you at the new house."
"The new house." Claudia Galloway appeared in
the doorway to the living room. She dabbed at her eyes with a linen
handkerchief, one of those flimsy bits with the hand-crocheted
edging that were her trademark. "It's not too late to change your
mind, Anne."
Annie thrust her clenched fists deep into the
pockets of her bright red sweater. "Claudia, we've gone over this
before. I --"
"This is your home," her former mother-in-law
broke in. "This is where you spent your entire married life. My
God, you're even sold most of your furniture. How can you turn your
back on everything Kevin meant to you?"
"I don't need this house to remind me of all
that Kevin meant to me."
"Is she at it again?" Susan, Claudia's oldest
daughter, poked her head in the front door. "Ma, you already built
a shrine to Kevin. Annie doesn't need to build one too."
Annie shot her best friend a look of pure
gratitude.
I owe you big time, Susie. Godiva, if I could afford
it, or Dom Perignon.
"Are they finished in the garage?"
"The place is stripped bare as chicken bones
after a barbecue."
"Really, Susan." Claudia frowned at her
daughter. "A bit less colorful language, if you please."
"Mother, I sell real estate for a living. I
am a master of the colorful metaphor."
"I could do with a tad less sarcasm as
well."
"Coming through!" Michael and Danny had found
a way to maneuver Annie's sleigh bed downstairs without major
architectural damage and had it aimed at the front door.
"That ridiculous bed," Claudia murmured as
she stepped aside. "Really, Annie. I don't know what you were
thinking."
I wasn't thinking, Claudia. You've been
there. Don't you remember how it was? I hurt too much that first
year to think of anything at all.
"Mother," said Susan, "why don't you go have
lunch with Jack and the boys. I know you love the chicken sandwich
at Wendy's. We'll see you later at the new house."
Claudia looked from Annie to her daughter and
in that instant Annie regretted all the sharp words she had bitten
back. She was family to Claudia, same as any of the children of her
body, and that gave her the right to annoy the daylights out of
Annie. Suddenly her redoubtable mother-in-law looked small and old
and vulnerable and Annie's heart twisted in sympathy. She loved
Claudia dearly even if sometimes she wished for a bit more
breathing room.
"I have a better idea," Annie said, putting
an arm around Claudia's fragile shoulders. "Why don't both of you
have lunch with Jack and the boys and we'll meet up at the
house."
