Reunion Pass: An Eternity Springs novel (33 page)

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You didn’t give me my Everest when you arranged for this trip. You gave me my Everest when you stood at the altar in St. Stephen’s and repeated your wedding vows to me. Even if you did leave out the word ‘obey.’”

Her slow, sweet smile made him weak at the knees. Chase took her in his arms, pulled her tight against him, and answered her smile with a slow, sweet kiss.

Finally, he lifted his head and stared down into those warm, loving eyes the color of a mountain in springtime. A beautiful, gorgeous Colorado Rocky Mountain. He spoke past a lump of emotion to say, “I love you, Lori Timberlake. Thanks for a perfect honeymoon. Thanks for bringing me to Tibet. But now, I’m ready to go home.”

“That sounds really nice.” She blinked back tears. “Let’s go home, Chase. Home to Eternity Springs.”

In a lush, picturesque mountain valley halfway around the world, he rested his forehead against hers and repeated, “Home to Eternity Springs.”

In a dry, wry tone, he added, “It’ll make our moms deliriously happy.”

Acknowledgments

I want to thank the great team at St. Martin’s Press for their outstanding effort in giving Eternity Springs a new home.

Rose Hilliard’s fabulous editorial direction and enthusiasm for everything Eternity Springs make working with her a joy.

My thanks to the art department for the spectacular cover look they’ve given this series, to Kerri Resnick for her lovely cover design, and to Tom Hallman for the beautiful illustration.

My most sincere thanks for the support from the rest of my publishing team at St. Martin’s Press including Jennifer Enderlin, Anne Marie Talberg, Monique Patterson, Erin Cox, Brant Janeway, and Amy Goppert.

Thanks to my agents Meg Ruley and Christina Hogrebe, and the rest of the team at the Jane Rotrosen Agency for all you’ve done to help me achieve my dreams.

To my friends and plot group partners Christina Dodd, Susan Sizemore, and Nicole Burnham, who are always there to help with story ideas, and to plot group host-with-the-most Scott Ham for the bottomless wine glass and cookies. Love you guys.

And to my dear friend Mary Dickerson who never fails to go above and beyond the call of friendship, who plots, critiques, edits, holds my hand, kicks my butt, and believes in me when my faith in myself is flagging. I am so blessed. Thank you!

Read on for an excerpt from
Emily March
’s next book

Christmas in Eternity Springs

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Chapter One

JULY
ETERNITY SPRINGS, COLORADO

In her second-floor apartment above her shop, Forever Christmas, Claire Branham eyed the express delivery envelope lying on her kitchen table as if it were a snake. A six-foot-long rattlesnake. Or maybe a python. Pythons squeezed the life out of their prey, didn’t they? The contents of that envelope were sure to wring the peace right out of her day.

She jumped at the clang of a wrench against a pipe, the sound reminding her that her day hadn’t been all that peaceful to begin with.

“Try it again now, Claire,” came a male voice from beneath her sink.

She leaned over the long, jeans-clad legs and switched on the cold water. A moment later, Brick Callahan said, “That’s got it. You’re good to go.”

Claire switched off the water and stepped backward as the long-legged man dressed in worn jeans and hiking boots scooted out from beneath the sink. “Thank you, Brick. I just didn’t have the hand strength to get it tight enough.”

“Hey, no problem.” A teasing glint entered eyes the same forest green as the flannel shirt he wore as he flexed his muscles and grinned. “I’m always happy to show off my guns.”

Claire gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Do you ever
not
flirt?”

Innocence echoed in his voice. “Hey, you’re a gorgeous single woman about my age, and a redhead to boot. I’ve always had a thing for redheads. Why wouldn’t I flirt with you?”

“I saw you flirt with Elaine Hanks at the Trading Post last week,” Claire challenged. “She’s seventy if she’s a day.”

He shrugged. “I like women. What can I say?”

“And women like you, too, don’t they?”

“It’s my cross to bear.” He rolled to his feet and studied her. “One of these days when you’re ready, I’d like to hear about the jerk who hurt you.”

Claire shook her head at him in bemusement. He’d asked her on a date after they’d met at a Chamber of Commerce meeting a month ago. She’d thanked him, then explained that she had no desire to date in the wake of a recent bad breakup. “Why would you want to listen to my sorry tale of woe?”

“Because I like you. We’re friends. And sometimes you get a Bambi look going on that makes me want to find the S.O.B. and knock him on his ass.“

“You’re a knight in shining armor,” she said, her heart warming.

Had she not been watching him closely, she’d have missed the shadow that flitted across his face. “Not always, sweetheart. Not always.”

The note of regret in his voice intrigued Claire. She wasn’t the only one with regrets, apparently.

“So,” he said, interjecting a lightness to his tone. “Anything else I need to fix while I’m here?”

Her gaze shifted to the envelope on the kitchen table.
If only.
“No. That takes care of it. Thanks a million, Brick. I really appreciate the help.”

“Not a problem. It’s the least I could do after you kept the shop open late so I could get a last-minute birthday present for my Aunt Maddie.”

She glanced at the clock. “Speaking of last minutes, this took longer than I expected. You’d better get moving or you’ll miss the party.”

“Not a Callahan party.” Brick set the wrench down on her countertop. “We start early and finish late. Sure I can’t talk you into going with me?” He held up a hand to ward off her immediate refusal and added, “Friends, Claire. Just friends.”

Claire hesitated. She sensed that he meant it. Not all men were liars, cheats, and thieves. Brick Callahan wasn’t just saying what he thought she wanted to hear.

Maybe. Probably.

But she couldn’t be sure. Her track record had taught her that she dare not trust her instincts where men were concerned. She wasn’t about to trust, period. “Thanks, but not tonight. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long week.”

He washed his hands in the kitchen sink, and she handed him a dish towel so he could dry them. “If you change your mind, come on out. You know where our place is on Hummingbird Lake?”

“I do.” She handed him the gift box she’d wrapped while he worked on her leaky faucet, then led him downstairs and through the shop. She flipped the lock on the front door. Jingle bells on the wreath chimed as she opened it. “Enjoy your evening, Brick. I hope Maddie likes the tree topper.”

“I know she will. Uncle Luke might have been deaf to her hints, but not me.”

“Tell her I said happy birthday.”

“Will do.” Then, because Brick liked to kiss women as much as he liked to flirt, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “G’night, Claire. I’m glad you moved to Eternity Springs.”

She beamed a smile at him. “That’s nice of you to say. Thank you. I love it here.”

It was true, she thought, as she locked the door behind him and gazed around her shop. While she would admit that her spur-of-the-moment decision to open a Christmas shop in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado, could be a case study for a psych professor, for the most part, the town and the project suited her. She was making friends. She was operating her business in the black. Sure, she had issues, but she was working on them, wasn’t she? She got points for creating an Angel Room in Forever Christmas, didn’t she?

Her gaze drifted toward said Angel Room where the tree central to the entire display stood with a naked top. A flurry of sales in the past two days had depleted her inventory and she’d been forced to use her sample to fill Brick’s request. “Bonus points if you go ahead and put a different angel on top of that tree tonight,” she muttered to herself.

If she faced the Angel Room and that envelope in the same day, she’d deserve more than just bonus points. She’d deserve ice cream. Two scoops.

She blew out a breath, mentally reviewed her inventory, and decided on a new angel to crown the centerpiece tree. She carried her ladder from the supply room and positioned it. As she removed a simple white porcelain topper from the box, her gaze stole toward a bedraggled angel made from paper plates and glitter sitting mostly hidden behind a trio of bright, shiny, beautiful angels.

Emotions roiled within her. With her gaze focused on the bedraggled angel, she thought of the envelope upstairs. Almost against her will, she glanced down at the empty third finger of her left hand. The tears that stung the back of her eyes annoyed her, so she stomped her feet just a little bit as she climbed the ladder.

Claire’s petite form came with short arms. Ordinarily when she trimmed a tall tree, she used an extension tool to help her place decorations. She’d already climbed the ladder when she realized she’d forgotten it. Impatient with herself on many levels, she wanted the task over and done with. She rose another rung of the ladder, extended her arm, and reached for the tip of the tree with the angel topper. And reached. Leaned a little farther. Stretched …

“Ow!” Pain sliced through her shoulder as she slid the angel on the treetop. She’d tweaked an old rotator cuff injury. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

She couldn’t even dull the ache with nice glass of Cabernet since she still had two days of antibiotics to take after having an emergency root canal on Monday. As she descended the ladder, she grumbled aloud, “A great day in a spectacular week.”

Root canal. Flat tire. Shattered phone screen.

Contact from the past she’d run from but could never escape.

Claire exhaled a heavy sigh, put away her ladder, then turned off the shop lights and climbed the stairs to her apartment. Unfortunately, the envelope hadn’t slithered off her kitchen table in her absence.

She pulled a bottle of ibuprofen from a cabinet and tossed two into her mouth, chasing the pills with a full glass of water. She set down the empty glass and focused on the delivery envelope. Focused on her name and address. Did her best to ignore the name of the law firm in the upper left-hand corner of the label.

“Do it,” she muttered to herself. “Just do it. Get it over with.”

Heart pounding, her mouth sandpaper-dry, she picked up the envelope, pulled the tab, and looked inside. A black binder clip secured a stack of papers over an inch thick. She took a deep breath and yanked the paperwork from the envelope.

The check fell onto her table, printed side down. Claire flipped it over and read the amount. She stumbled back against the wall. “Sweet baby Jesus in a manger.”

Her knees buckled and she slid bonelessly onto her kitchen floor.

Also by
EMILY MARCH

Heartsong Cottage

Praise for
New York Times
bestselling author
EMILY MARCH
and her beloved Eternity Springs novels …

“With passion, romance, and revealing moments that will touch your heart, Emily March takes readers on an unhurried journey where past mistakes are redeemed and a more beautiful future is forged—one miracle at a time.”

—
USA Today

“A brilliant writer you’ll love creates a world you’ll never want to leave.”

—Susan Mallery,
New York Times
bestselling author

“A heartfelt story of family, community, second chances, and the power of love … Don’t miss it!”

—Susan Wiggs,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Emily March’s stories are heartwrenching and soul-satisfying. For a wonderful read, don’t miss a visit to Eternity Springs.”

—Lisa Kleypas,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Characters you adore, a world you want to visit, and stories that tug at your heartstrings. Brava, Emily March. I love Eternity Springs.”

—Christina Dodd,
New York Times
bestselling author

“A heartwarming tale of courage and redemption … that will have readers cheering.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Absolutely wonderful … Emily March is a real pro at breathing life into her stories and making you feel the characters’ heartaches and losses as well as the deep love they share.”

—
Fresh Fiction

“For the reader who has plenty of stress in real life and needs to go to a lovely fantasy place of peace … where goodness can triumph and love can prevail. It’s a real good place to visit.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A wonderful holiday … Another great story by a great author.”

—
Romance Junkies

“The characters in the small town of Eternity Springs bring a warmth and humor that make this book so appealing.”

—
Night Owl Reviews

About The Author

Emily March
is the
New York Times, Publishers Weekly,
and
USA Today
bestselling author of over thirty novels, including the critically acclaimed Eternity Springs series.
Publishers Weekly
calls March a “master of delightful banter,” and her heartwarming, emotionally charged stories have been named to Best of the Year lists by
Publishers Weekly, Library Journal,
and
Romance Writers of America.