After huffing out a frustrated breath, I dipped my paintbrush into the container of bright yellow paint. Usually when I sat at the table in our formal dining room, I stared out at a sea of culinary delights. Today, however, I merely saw red Solo cups filled with vibrantly colored paints, Styrofoam balls, and a black poster board sitting on top of the plastic drape protecting the table. Basically, it was everything you could possibly need to construct a model of the solar system.
Normally, I didn’t enjoy spending my Sunday afternoons painting the planets. After a full week of managing my family’s collision business, I wanted nothing more than to drink a glass of wine while catching up on the Real Housewives I’d DVR-ed. But, as it tends to be with motherhood, my life wasn’t truly my own, and Sundays inevitably became project time.
“Remind me again when this is due?” I asked as I put the final yellow touches on the largest sized ball we’d deemed the sun.
My nine-year-old son, Lincoln, AKA Linc, glanced up at me sheepishly. “Um, Tuesday.”
I shot him my best ticked off mom look. “And why have you only started working on it today?”
“I guess ’cause I forgot.”
“Please tell me we’re not going to have to go back to me really checking your agenda every night instead of me just signing it so you don’t get in trouble with your teacher?”
With a scowl, Linc replied, “No. I’ll do better, I promise.”
My older sister, Kennedy, shook her dark head of hair at me before turning to Linc. “Don’t let your mom give you grief. When we were growing up, she was notorious for waiting until the last minute to do her homework and projects. It used to drive Papa crazy.”
I stilled my paintbrush to glare at her. “Thank you so much for undermining my parenting.”
She grinned. “You’re welcome.”
As I sat the sun down to dry, I said, “You know, you really shouldn’t feel like you have to help. I’m sure you have a ton of other things you could be doing.”
“Nope, I’m good. Just waiting until it’s time to head to the shop to get started on tomorrow’s prep.”
Kennedy was co-owner of Harts and Flowers, a combination bakery and florist that used a cutesy play on our last name. The other half of the business was owned by our younger sister, Eleanor Rose—or Ellie, as we called her—who did the floral arrangements.
From our names, one might assume our parents had a thing for the presidents. The love of historical figures really falls to my dad. It had started when his parents gave him the moniker of Abraham Lincoln Hart. He was known as Abe for the better part of his life, and most people in town also called him Honest Abe for the way he ran our family’s collision business.
Our mother hadn’t really cared too much for the business of naming us, so she had deferred to my father. The truth was Mommie Dearest hadn’t really cared too much for anything regarding her three daughters. She’d blown town with a traveling musician when I was just four years old, leaving my father to raise us girls all on his own.
He’d then moved us into the sprawling 1890s home on Main Street, where my sisters and I still lived. The house actually belonged to my great-aunt Sadie. It had been in the Hart family for several generations, and as the only daughter, it had been left to my Aunt Sadie since she never married. Like Andy Taylor having his Aunt Bea move in with him to care for him and Opie, Aunt Sadie helped fill the maternal role we needed since Dad’s parents had moved to Florida before we were born. While Dad had eventually remarried and moved out ten years ago, Aunt Sadie’s sprightly ninety-year-old self still resided in the house, and she had the room across the hall from me.
Although my sisters and I were in our late twenties and had our own careers, we still lived at home. Some people liked to joke that we were cursed to be old maids like Aunt Sadie, but I liked to point out that in a small town, there weren’t a lot of men to choose from. With its population of just under five thousand, Hayesville could certainly be considered a very small town.
Truthfully, I really didn’t have time for a relationship. Between running Hart and Daughter and being a single mom, my plate was full. Part of me wished a decent man might come along, one who would make me want to make time for him. At the moment, there was no one on the horizon who fit that bill, so I just focused all my energy on Linc. That was one of the reasons why I was spending my Sunday painting the solar system.
“Just out of curiosity, besides your science project, is there anything else going on at school you’ve forgotten to tell me about?” I asked.
Linc tilted his head in thought before his dark eyes widened. “Oh yeah, it’s Donuts with Dad on Wednesday.”
“Who do you want to come? Me or Papa?”
After giving me a you just asked me the stupidest question in the world look, Linc replied, “Papa.”
“I’ll let him know.”
It went without saying that I didn’t need to ask Linc’s father if he was going to come. I had no idea where he was. The last time I’d laid eyes on Ryan Perkins was when he came to the hospital after I gave birth to Linc. He’d taken one look at him before turning on his heels and getting the hell out of Dodge. It was probably a good thing he ran because my dad was ready to shoot him for knocking up his seventeen-year-old daughter.
Although Ryan had grown up in Hayesville, he’d had his eyes set on Nashville and being a country star. To a teenage girl, there was nothing hotter than having a boyfriend in a band—at least, that was the way I’d felt when Ryan first asked me out. Most of the guys at Hayesville High were intimidated by the fact that my mad soccer skills had found me a place as kicker on the all-male high school football team, but Ryan thought the idea of me kicking guys’ asses on the field was hot. It was on our six-month anniversary that I got the second blue line on the pregnancy test.
Thankfully, Linc looked nothing like his blond-haired, blue-eyed sperm donor. He had the same dark hair and brown eyes my sisters and I had, and he was basically a mini-me of my dad. Over the years, Dad had gotten used to playing the dual roles of father and grandfather to Linc. He’d had a lot of practice considering he’d been mother and father to me and my sisters.
“Which one should I work on now?” I asked.
“Uranus.”
“What color do I paint Uranus?”
Kennedy closed her eyes. “I’m seeing your anus as a giant, black hole.”
While Linc doubled over with laughter as only a nine-year-old boy can, I shot my sister a look. “Wow, you’re so mature.”
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Try a different way.”
“Fine,” she grumbled.
When my phone rang, I put down the Styrofoam ball and my paintbrush to glance at the ID. “Crap, it’s the shop,” I muttered. I quickly used the wipes to remove the leftover paint on my hands. Rising out of my chair, I grabbed the phone and started into the kitchen. “Hello?”
“Hey Rae, it’s Candy.”
“Hey girl. What’s up?”
“We have a VIP that needs a tow ASAP.”
I snorted. “Did Ronnie Tillman get his boat stuck again?” Our mayor was known for throwing back a few too many beers at the lake on the weekend and somehow always managing to get his pontoon stuck in the shoreline.
“No, no. It’s not anyone from here. It’s Gabe Renard.”
“Who?”
“Oh my God, how can you not know Gabe Renard? He’s the drummer of Jacob’s Ladder.”
“Are they kinda country rock?”
“Yes!”
“Yeah, I think I’ve heard a song or two of theirs.”
“We need to get you out of the house more and to one of their concerts. They’re amazing. Gabe is hell of a drummer.”
I laughed. “I’ll make a note to go see them, but what’s the deal with Gabe?”
“He’s stuck off Vanderbilt road. Billy has two tows ahead of Gabe, one way out in LaFayette, and I can’t get Wayne to answer his phone. He’s probably hungover from painting the town last night.”
“I see. Since all the usual weekend workers were occupied, you were kind enough to offer him my services on my day off?”
“I couldn’t let someone like him wait. Honey, I never let a man as fine as he is wait.”
I laughed. “Spare me.”
“Come on, Rae-Rae, it won’t take you that long to tow him. Then you can have the bragging rights that you not only met Gabe Renard, but you saved him.” Candy gasped. “He might even ask you for a date!”
“A famous rocker ask me out? Ha! I think you’ve been huffing too many fumes from your essential oil diffuser.”
“You never know. Stranger things have happened. You’re a hot ticket, too.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” After putting Candy on speakerphone, I did a quick Google search of Gabe Renard. Hmm, not bad…okay, fine—he’s incredibly good-looking. I especially liked the pictures of him shirtless at his drum set, dripping with sweat. Yeah, sweaty men got me hot. Sue me.
“If I go tow him, I’m charging him double the weekend fee, so make sure you note that on the paperwork.”
Candy screeched. “You go get him, girl!”
I laughed. “Whatever. Send over the billing when you send the location and I’ll have him do an electronic sign.”
“I will.” Before I could hang up, Candy said, “I want to hear every single detail about him just as soon as you leave.”
“I’m not exactly sure how tantalizing a tow is, but I’ll be sure to fill you in.”
“And he’s supposed to sign something for me as well.”
“I’ll try to remind him.”
“You better. Don’t make me drive out there and get him to sign my boobs.”
Oh good lord. I was both horrified by her suggestion and by the mental image it conjured. “Um, goodbye, Candy.”
“Bye, Rae.”
I couldn’t help eyeing the phone before I hung it up. I had known Candy pretty much my entire life, and I had never heard her quite so giggly. She would have rivaled one of the high school girls at a Bieber concert—not that I actually listened to Bieber.
Don’t get me wrong, I got her enthusiasm to a certain point. We rarely saw anyone remotely famous around here, so it was understandable that Candy would be star-struck. I just couldn’t help having a preconceived notion that this Gabe guy was going to act like an uptight jerk because of being famous.
Walking back into the dining room, I said, “Kennedy, are you going to be around for a little while?”
“Just until six. Then I need to go get tomorrow’s breads started.”
“Can you keep an eye on Linc for me while I go do an emergency tow?”
“You’re doing a tow on a Sunday? Who is it, the governor?” Kennedy asked incredulously.
I laughed as I got my keys. “Not quite.” Pointing at Linc, I said, “Listen to Aunt Kennedy. When you finish your box, you can watch TV. Not until then, understand?”
Linc didn’t look up from painting Saturn’s rings. “Yes, Mom.”
Turning my pointer finger to my sister, I said, “And don’t you be going behind my back and letting him watch television instead of doing his work.”
Kennedy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a killjoy.”
“It’s called being a parent,” I called over my shoulder as I started for the door.
At Linc’s laughter, I knew Kennedy must be making some sort of face or gesture at me. I decided to be the bigger person and ignore it. She might’ve been a year older than me, but it always seemed like I was the older sister. Since we were only fourteen months apart, it sometimes felt like we were twins. Where I was the somewhat mature and responsible one, Kennedy was the wild child. Regardless of how crazy she could be or how much she got on my nerves, I loved having her for a sister. I even loved sharing a house with her. Both Kennedy and Ellie had been my lifelines while raising Linc.
After pounding down the back steps, I slid into my Honda Passport. I drove past the residential area of Main Street and down into the business section. I’d lived in Haysville all my life. I’d had big plans of escaping for college at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga on a soccer scholarship, but those plans had changed when I got pregnant with Linc. Instead of going out of state, I’d gone to the community college in the next town. When I graduated with honors in business management, it was a nice way to thumb my nose at all the naysayers who said I would never graduate high school, let alone college.
It was then I went to work for my dad. Although I could have earned more money other places, it was the best fit for me and for Linc since I could bring him to work with me. At first, I only handled the billing and payroll. Slowly, over the years, Dad immersed me more in the physical side of the business. While I wasn’t out welding on new bumpers, I did know how to price parts and services as well as handling some minor repairs. After two years of me working for him, he had all the signs redone and the wreckers and trucks repainted to pronounce that it was no longer Hart Wreckers, but Hart and Daughter.
It wasn’t exactly an easy transition for the people in town, and to be honest, it wasn’t for me either. Sure, we were just a small-time operation, but having that sort of affirmation from my dad? The gesture touched my heart more than anything else ever would. Even after some of my missteps, Dad believed in me, and it was the best feeling in the world to have his support—well, next to the feeling of being Linc’s mom.
After making the second turn off Main Street, I coasted down the road that dead-ended at Hart and Daughter Collision. Once I punched in the numerical code on the keypad, the barbwire fence slid open and I drove inside the lot. Usually at this time of day, the place was teeming with both workers and customers. Not only did we have an immense collision center, the property also included ten acres of land, and some of those acres were used as a junkyard. Thankfully, they were the ones on the back side of the property, so it wasn’t such an eyesore.
Once I parked my car, I hopped out and started over to one of the empty wreckers. At the sound of a friendly woof, I turned around to see Demo—short for Demolition—running toward me. Demo had shown up in the demolition yard about two years ago, and we had decided to let him stay. In true junkyard dog form, he was a wiry pit bull with a nick in his left ear and part of his tail lopped off. “Hey boy, I’m just picking up one of the wreckers.”
After scratching his ears, I patted his head and then hopped on up in the wrecker. Once I put the location Candy had given me into my navigation app, I started off to rescue the lost star.