“You mean Tiny Falls,” Duke said with a laugh.
James gave Duke a nudge. “We’re having Thanksgiving at the cabin anyway,” he said, turning to Burke. “You can join us there. It’s close to Piney Falls and it’s private too.”
“Precisely,” Lorraine said. “Besides, the Christmas season starts right after Thanksgiving; that’s not far from now.” Her face shifted then, her pleased expression drifting to something more…inquisitive.
“Now,” she said, a crease forming at her brow as she narrowed a look at Burke. “Is there anything we should know about you? Better we know now than to have the media dig it up and surprise us. A secret scandal back in Manhattan? A misdeed swept under the rug?”
“A woman scorned that might come after you or your money?” Betzy added.
“Psh, you mean multiple women scorned,” Duke said. “Look at this stud—he’s a Benton. He’s been breaking hearts since he was twelve just like the rest of us, right man?”
Burke allowed for a grin. That was probably true for them. In fact, they had each recently found their match, fallen in love, and made it official through vows. For Burke…dating, falling in love, breaking hearts, that whole field lost its luster once his own heart was broken at a young seventeen. And after experiencing so much loss following that time, Burke’s aversion to attachment had set in like stone.
He didn’t like to admit it, but he guessed that was another reason to start fresh—leave one end of the country for another. Perhaps here, his heart could heal enough to fall in love. Perhaps.
For now, Burke could answer Lorraine’s question with a clear conscience. “No,” he said, glancing from her to the others in the room. “No scandals or love interests to speak of.”
“Yet.” James shrugged. “He’s a Benton. It’s inevitable.”
“He’ll probably pick up a country girl in Piney,” Duke said. “One who’s got mad skills on the banjo.”
The table broke out in appreciative laughter, Burke’s included, though he knew they were wrong. He’d been through several of the neighboring towns and this one—Piney Falls—was the smallest one yet.
What kind of trouble, or woman for that matter, could he possibly find there?
Chapter 2
Justine pressed her thumb into the avocado in her grip. Firm with a hint of give beneath the pressure. Perfect.
She set it into her basket while humming to the Christmas carol playing throughout the store. And while she loved the song, Justine wasn’t personally dreaming of a white Christmas; she was dreaming, instead, of the magical Christmases in her small town of Piney Falls, California.
With the illuminated streetlamps draped with garlands and bows, the charming ice rink at Town Square, and the sheer excitement she saw in each child’s face. Of course, the town wasn’t lit up just yet—they had Thanksgiving to enjoy first.
Justine reached for the avocados once more, hoping to score another almost-ripe one, when a familiar voice sounded from behind.
“You going to snatch up some of that rhubarb next?”
Justine recognized Toby’s voice with ease. The grocer had worked at the Corner Market as far back as she could remember. “Gretchen made one heck of a rhubarb pie at the autumn festival. We always used to bid on them.”
Justine hid her chagrin. Yes, Grams was known for her baking skills throughout the entire town and beyond. Or at least, had been. Justine sighed, realizing it’d be her and Gramps’ second holiday season without the woman who’d raised her.
“Yeah,” she said with a nod, eyes drifting back to the fruit in her hand. “Maybe I will. I do my best to duplicate her recipes.” Justine regretted saying it the moment it slipped from her lips. “But,” she hurried to add, “baking’s not really my thing. You know me, I’m better with a sander and paintbrush than I am with kitchen utensils.”
“Well, you keep bringing your furniture to the autumn festival and we’ll all be happy,” Toby said with a kind grin. “My wife’s got her eyes on one of those rocking chairs this year. Says she wants to cuddle the new grandbaby in it.”
“Well, that makes me glad that I’m selling two of them this year. She’ll have her pick.” It was a beautiful image. One that had her wondering how many times Grams had rocked her as a child. And had she ever shared such a moment with her own mother before she’d taken off?
Another question came to mind. One that had begun to nag at her recently—would she get to cuddle a baby of her own one day? It had never been much of a question before, more of a given. But the prospects in town were…well, she’d grown up with most of them, and as kind as they were, she couldn’t see herself marrying a one of them.
The trouble was, Justine had no interest in dating someone outside of town, particularly the businessmen who tore through in such a hurry, anxious to catch their next buck and be where the action was.
She considered that as she ventured toward the cranberries. It would probably add a very bright spot into Grandpa’s Thanksgiving if she learned how to make Grams’ fresh cranberry tart this year. Perhaps Mimi would help; she and Justine’s grandma were quite the team in the kitchen.
She tossed a bag of cranberries in the cart, then moved to the rhubarb next. Who cared if she hadn’t mastered the pie recipe?
“Hey, I meant to ask,” Toby piped as she set the freshly bagged stalks into the cart. “With the autumn festival approaching, you think we might get the chance to meet that successful fiancé of yours?”
Justine barely covered a gasp. How in heavens name had he heard about that? She’d specifically told Gramps not to tell anyone.
Mrs. Whipple, Justine’s third grade teacher, wheeled her cart nearby as well. “I was wondering the same thing,” the woman said, making her way to the granny smith apples. “Outsider or not, he should definitely be at the town’s largest annual event.”
“Especially seeing that you’re the one who puts it all together,” Toby added.
It felt like a furnace had taken residence in her chest. Fire hot flames that fanned heat right into her face. “True,” she admitted, guessing that, if she did have an out-of-town fiancé, she’d want him to fly out for it. “I don’t think he’ll be able to make it this time.”
Okay, things had officially gotten out of hand. And by things she meant the little white lie she told Gramps to get him off her back about finding a man.
The shocking thing was, it had worked. The white lie, as she liked to think of it, bought her total freedom from the man’s pestering about finding someone. He did, however, bug her about meeting him sometime.
But this…this was too much. She had not expected him to spout it off to the whole town. Especially since she’d asked him to pretty pretty please keep it under wraps.
As Justine looked between Toby and Mrs. Whipple, thoughts of coming clean probed her mind. Just tell them what you did, why you did it, and ask them to not give you away.
“Yeah, Justine,” came the unmistakable nasally voice of her old classmate, Brittany Clementine. “Do tell us about your rich dreamy boyfriend who’s planning to marry you but…oops, he’s never even come for a visit.”