Chapter One

Present day

Five years ago, if someone had told Abigail Fine she’d be living in Hazel Green, Illinois, and running her own business, she’d have said they were crazy. If they’d told her she’d be cleaning toilets, well, that she would have believed.

Abby inched the metal snake into the bowels of the bowl and continued to fish. While she hadn’t yet managed to catch what was clogging up the toilet in room 201, giving up wasn’t in her nature.

“I’m sorry about this, Abby.”

Abby paused to look back into the freckled face of Nevaeh Nichols, the high school girl she employed during the summer to clean rooms. As she usually did when she worked, Nev had pulled her auburn hair back in a high pony. Her brown eyes, large in her thin speckled face, reminded Abby of a sweet spaniel.

“You have no reason to be sorry.” Abby turned back to the bowl, keeping her voice even. “In fact, you deserve a gold star for noticing this bad boy wasn’t flushing properly.”

“It emptied, but slowly.” Nev absently straightened a slightly off-kilter plush ivory towel draped over a thick brass bar.

Room 201 had been the final stop for Nev, as the couple who’d occupied the room last night had requested a late departure. Abby had checked them out personally, and they’d raved about the room. Not one mention of a slow-to-empty toilet.

When Nev had reported the issue, for one brief moment Abby had considered calling a plumber. But if she’d learned anything in the two years since inheriting the hotel from her great-aunt, it was that money flowed out far faster than it flowed in. Which meant she needed to attempt to fix problems herself before calling in the pros.

The snake bumped up against something squishy. Abby gave a shout.

Nevaeh stumbled backward. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s all good.” The knowledge that she wouldn’t need a plumber was sweeter than any French pastry. “Bring the bucket over here.”

The girl held the container out as Abby slowly pulled back on the snake. The careful, deliberate movement reminded her of reeling in a fish. But Abby could guarantee that whatever she caught today wouldn’t be on any menu tonight. The metal tape slowly retracted, the hook buried deep in a bloated sanitary napkin.

Abby locked the snake, then lifted and positioned the soggy mess over the bucket. “Here’s the culprit.”

“Yuck.”

With a grin, Abby released the pad and let it drop.

Wrinkling her nose at the smell, Nev stepped back. She held the bucket at arm’s length. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yes, it is.” Abby’s tone remained cheerful as the cash register in her mind tallied how much she’d saved by fixing the problem herself. “I’ll take the bucket down with me. You, my dear, are officially off duty.”

With a spring in her step, Abby descended the stairs to the utility room at the back of the hotel’s first floor. Once she finished there, she hurried to relieve Iris Endicott at the front desk.

Eight of the ten rooms were already booked for the evening. Six was the break-even point. Her cheer meter inched up a notch when she saw Iris checking in a guest.

As Abby stepped forward, she mentally congratulated the newcomer on making such an excellent choice.

Standing two stories tall, the Inn at Hazel Green was the only hotel in the town’s historic district. From the gleaming hardwood floor to the exposed-brick wall in the entry, the hotel radiated warmth and welcome. While there were larger and more modern hotels out by the interstate, many visitors preferred to stay here. Not only because of its proximity to all the quaint shops but because of the hotel’s appealing ambiance.

And, Abby reminded herself, because of the personalized service she and every one of her employees offered to guests. Stepping to the desk, Abby bestowed a warm smile on the forty-something woman dressed smartly in tailored navy pants, a sleeveless white silk top, and heels.

“Welcome to the Inn at Hazel Green.” Abby glanced at the name on the computer screen as she extended her hand. “Ms. Grimsby, I’m Abigail Fine, the proprietor. I’m happy you chose to stay with us. If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant, all you need to do is ask.”

“You look too young to be in charge.” For a second, the cool assessment in Charlotte Grimsby’s pale-blue eyes triggered memories of Veronica in that stuffy doctor’s office all those years ago.

Different person, Abby told herself. Different situation.

“Thanks for the compliment.” Abby had turned thirty last year, and being called young was now a reason to rejoice.

“I’ll give you another. I love your dress.” Unexpectedly, Charlotte reached forward to rub the soft sable-colored fabric with ivory polka dots between her fingers. “A bit old-fashioned for my tastes, but it’s the perfect foil for your dark hair and eyes.”

“It’s what we in Hazel Green like to call ‘vintage wear.’” Living in a community that billed itself as a place where history comes alive, where dressing in period pieces was not only accepted but encouraged, had given Abby the freedom to experiment with all sorts of styles. “This is a cotton swing dress, popular in the 1950s.”

Turning, Abby studied Iris, the pretty blonde history teacher who worked for her during the summer. Iris had gone stylishly casual today. She’d coupled a royal-blue skirt with tiny boats etched around the hem with a stretchy red-and-white-striped top.

Abby tapped a finger against her lips. “If I’m not mistaken, Iris is wearing a 1940s-era high-waist Hoover swing skirt.”

“Ding, ding, ding.” Iris winked. “Give the woman a cigar.”

“I’d prefer a doughnut.” Laughter bubbled up and spilled from Abby’s lips like a joyous waterfall.

“You two are beyond adorable. It’s as if you don’t have a care in the world.” Charlotte’s gaze narrowed, and she studied the two women as if they were bugs under a microscope.

Her acerbic tone had Iris’s smile fading and tiny frown lines forming between her brows.

Abby regarded her guest thoughtfully. “I think we can both agree, it’s a rare person whose life is free of challenges.”

Charlotte’s gaze shifted.

“You have a beautiful place.” The care the woman took in assessing the furniture in the lobby reminded Abby of a pawnbroker contemplating an offer. “I adore exposed brick.”

“The inn was built in 1884. Been in the family ever since.” Abby let her gaze linger on the hand-tooled maple banister leading to the second floor. The wood gleamed as if it had been freshly polished that morning.

Which it had been. By her. Abby was continually amazed by what Renaissance wax, a soft cloth, and lots of elbow grease could do.

“Ms. Grimsby.” Iris’s tone remained pleasant. “I’ve checked you into our William Jennings Bryan Suite.”

Charlotte cocked her head, appearing to not recognize the name.

Abby understood her confusion. She hadn’t known anything about the man until she’d moved to Hazel Green. “Following his defeat in the presidential election of 1900, Mr. Bryan became the most popular orator on the Chautauqua circuit. It’s rumored he spent the night in room 110 when the hotel first opened for business. Apparently, he continued to stay here whenever he was in the area.”

Ignoring the impromptu history lesson, Charlotte studied the large metal key Iris pressed into her hand. She rolled it between her fingers. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages.”

“Adds to the nostalgia in a way a key card never could.”

Iris’s comment prompted a smile of approval from Abby and garnered a reluctant nod of agreement from their guest.

“While I’m in town, I’m hoping to do business with Jocelyn Valentine. The milliner.” Charlotte added the last bit as if concerned they might not recognize the name.

Abby had no idea how it worked on Michigan Avenue, but in Hazel Green, all the merchants not only knew but supported each other.

“Her shop is super close, just down the block and around the corner.” Iris pointed west. “It takes less than two minutes to walk from our front door to hers.”

“Jocelyn is extremely talented.” Abby thought of the gorgeous hats featured in the Mad Hatter’s decorative window. “If you’re looking for one-of-a-kind hats, either to feature in your shop or for personal use, she’s your gal.”

“You’ve been most helpful.” The woman gestured with the hand holding the key. “I assume my room is down that hall.”

“It is.” Abby rounded the stand and gestured to the leather overnight case at the woman’s feet. “May I help you with your bag?”

Charlotte flicked the offer away with a swipe of her hand. Though she gave the appearance of a woman in a hurry, she didn’t immediately reach for the bag. Curiosity filled her eyes as her gaze lingered on the colonnade that separated the lobby of the hotel from the restaurant.

“If you get hungry, you should consider Matilda’s. They serve fabulous farm-to-table food. Trust me. You can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.” Even if the restaurant hadn’t been under her roof, Abby would still have recommended the place. In Hazel Green, no one out-cooked Matilda Lovejoy.

Charlotte’s expression turned thoughtful. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

Once the woman disappeared down the hall, Abby shot Iris a questioning look. “Nine rooms filled?”

“Your math skills are impressive.” Iris flashed a smile. “Room 201 is the only one still available. Since your fishing expedition was a success, that room is ready to book.”

For a second, Abby wondered how Iris knew the outcome of her trip to the fishing bowl, then realized Nev must have told her on her way out the door. Her handful of employees was a tight-knit crew. But then, so were the townspeople. Kind and generous to a fault, they were what made Hazel Green special.

Abby had arrived in this Northern Illinois community two years ago shortly after a winter storm had dropped two feet of snow. She’d been apprehensive and unsure whether she’d made the right decision in moving here from Springfield. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize she’d hit the jackpot.

The second Abby had stepped through the front door of the hotel, she’d been greeted by Matilda, who’d been managing the hotel until the estate was settled. One touch from the woman’s hand was all it had taken. Abby remembered the moment vividly. It was as if someone had wrapped a warm, soft blanket around her and said, Welcome home, weary one, welcome home.

From that second, the support she’d received from, well, everyone had been astonishing.

Until then, Abby had felt as if she’d been on her own her entire life. Her father had jumped ship early in her childhood, and her mom had passed away from an aneurysm shortly after Abby graduated from college.

Thanks to a stranger’s decision to leave everything to a great-niece she’d never met, Abby now had a forever home and more good friends than she could count.

“I’m glad I’m not working this evening.”

Abby blinked herself back to the present in time to see Iris jerk her head toward the hall.

“She’s going to be a demanding one.”

“I thought Charlotte was pleasant enough.” Abby kept her tone even, not wanting to get drawn into gossiping about a customer.

She didn’t hold out much hope of Iris letting the subject drop. Since her husband’s death, Iris had turned into a glass-half-empty gal. Not that Abby blamed her. Seeing your husband shot in front of you could turn anyone bitter.

“Did you see the way her lips pursed?” Iris pulled her bright-red lips into something that resembled a pout more than a pucker. “Like she’d just sucked on a lemon.”

Abby thought of the pale band of skin she’d spotted encircling Charlotte’s left ring finger. Could she be recently separated? Divorced? Perhaps her husband had recently died. “What’s that saying? People are fighting battles every day that we know nothing about.”

“True.” Iris gave a grudging nod. “You certainly were right on target last week with Katie and Tom.”

Thinking about the couple brought heaviness to Abby’s heart. When the two had first arrived, they’d been taciturn and a bit abrupt. After a couple of days, she’d learned the heartbreaking truth.

The two, who’d recently celebrated their third wedding anniversary, were in Hazel Green to plan Katie’s funeral. Simply recalling the conversation had tears stinging the backs of Abby’s eyes.

While she couldn’t change Katie’s terminal cancer prognosis, Abby had done all she could to make their stay in Hazel Green as comfortable as possible.

Iris unlocked one of the drawers behind the counter and pulled out her purse. “I don’t see how you do it. How you keep such a good attitude.”

“I believe we offer more than warm beds to weary travelers. We offer joy, hope, love.”

“I suppose.”

The reluctant agreement had Abby fighting back a smile.

“I’m heading out.” Iris touched her shoulder. “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

“I’ll be fine.” You’d have thought Iris had asked for a huge favor instead of simply requesting the rest of the afternoon off to do some shopping.

Abby walked with Iris to the front door with its glass insert. The name of the hotel was etched in a bold yet elegant font. Reaching around Iris, she opened the door. “And I’m not alone. Roselle is in the kitchen doing the prep work for dinner, and Eva Grace should be dropped off in the next hour or so.”

“I can’t believe the munchkin is old enough to go to a birthday party.” Iris’s expression softened the way it always did when she spoke of Abby’s daughter.

The teacher loved children but hadn’t been able to have kids of her own. Iris had mentioned once that she and her husband had been looking into adoption when he was killed.

“It’s crazy to think she’ll be starting kindergarten next week.” When she’d had the embryo transfer, Abby hadn’t planned to raise a child. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without Eva Grace.

She followed Iris out into the sunshine and gave her friend a playful shove. “What are you doing still hanging around here when there’s shopping to do?”

Even after Iris disappeared around the corner, Abby remained on the sidewalk. There was no reason to hurry inside. If any of the guests called for assistance, her cell would ring. Lifting her face to the sun, Abby soaked in the energy that permeated the business district.

Locals and tourists mingled on the sidewalks. Flags and banners, advertising various upcoming activities that would culminate in the Hazel Green Birthday Bash, hung from old-fashioned light posts. Instead of concrete sidewalks going all the way to the curbs flanking the cobblestone street, the city had left openings that were now filled with blooming flowers.

Abby narrowed her gaze on a black-and-white awning half a block away. The striped canopy made a bold statement over the front window of the antique shop. She swore it hadn’t been there last night when she and Eva Grace had made their nightly trek to the park.

Glancing back, Abby studied the green-domed awning over the hotel’s front door. While it looked good with the red brick, she wondered whether she should consider something bigger. Or perhaps try a different color?

“Mighty pretty day.”

Abby recognized the deep, cheerful voice even before she turned. When the rotund man with the white beard standing before her wasn’t playing Santa Claus, he delivered the mail.

“Hi, Frank. You’re looking chipper.”

Frank Partridge rubbed a hand over his fluffy beard. “Got myself a haircut and a beard trim yesterday.”

“I can see that.” Instead of reaching his waist, the beard stopped midchest.

“Where’s the little one?”

“At a birthday party.” Abby glanced at her watch. “She should be home any minute.”

“Give her this.” Frank took a sucker that was peeking out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Abby.

“Hey.” She shot him a teasing smile. “Don’t I get anything?”

“This is for you.” Frank reached deep into the cloth bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a thick wad of mail.

Abby’s smile froze when she saw what was at the top of the stack.

She knew the envelope. Recognized the scrawl.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Thanks.” The concern in Frank’s voice had her adding a smile. “You have yourself a good day.”

“That’s the plan.” Whistling between his teeth, he sauntered down the sidewalk.

An unexpected tap on her shoulder had Abby whirling. The top envelope slipped from her grasp and fluttered to the ground.

Before Abby could react, Matilda bent over, the sweeping folds of her paisley caftan, circa 1975, fluttering in the breeze. She scooped up the envelope in one easy motion.

Abby held out her hand, but Matilda merely studied the writing. “Just like clockwork.”

Impatience had Abby wanting to play snatch and grab. She reined in the impulse. “It’s from Jonah. I told you about the money he sends every month.”

“You also mentioned the notes he includes for Eva Grace.” Matilda inclined her head. “Have you read any of them to her?”

“I will. When she’s older.” Maybe, Abby added silently to herself.

“What about the notes he sends you?”

Abby blinked, resisting the urge to snap that anything Jonah had to say was of no consequence.

When it mattered most, he hadn’t been there for her. Or for Eva Grace.

That she would never forget.