Noelle was up before dawn the next morning, shoveling out her car to head into Elkridge to help Jenna, then put in another shift at the café.

She was careful not to wake Ethan. In fact, she made every effort to ensure he slept in by letting Trapper out, feeding Cheddar, and brushing her teeth in the kitchen.

She couldn't allow herself to get hung up on the cute doctor. She needed to focus on her goals and build up some cash. She might not be sure LA was the perfect plan, but staying in Elkridge wasn’t in the forecast either.

Sure, Ethan did scrumptious things to her body, things no other man had done, but she was mature enough to know the difference between sex, love, and commitment. She took responsibility for the part she played in what happened the night before, and didn’t have any misguided notions of permanence.

There were no jobs for her in Elkridge, and she wasn’t about to rely on her friends’ goodwill. Jenna didn’t really need help. That woman was a business machine. She was just kind enough to make up stuff for Noelle to help with so she could reach her travel fund goal.

Plus, she wasn’t naïve.

When she walked down those stairs last night, she knew perfectly well what would happen. And every single second of what had happened between them was now tattooed on her brain. Evidence of what could happen between a man and woman when both partners’ first goal was to please the other.

The feeling of being valued could be addicting.

Doctor Brennan was like a drug, and if she took too much, she’d never be able to rehab from his effect.

She drove into the alley behind the bakery and parked next to Jenna’s Jeep. As she got out of her car, the snow whipped across her face. She adjusted her scarf higher, knowing full well the shiver running through her had nothing to do with the temperature. Ethan had unsettled her world, and she needed to figure out how to create more distance.

“I didn’t think you would make it in today.” Jenna slid a pan of bread into her oven. “Let me see if I can figure out something you can help with.”

Jenna lifted another pan from the seven-foot rack. Her French braid trailed halfway down her back, and she looked cute—too perky for the pre-dawn hour. Noelle hung her jacket and scarf on a hook by the back door, then washed her hands. “I can always go over to the café and see if they need help there.”

“No. No. I could use your help filling a batch of the Sin Sugar jars. The ladies in town decided they were great for stocking stuffers. I'm out of or low on all the flavors.”

Noelle’s jar was still sitting on top of her suitcase. She should have tried the chocolate-flavored spread on Ethan. Now it was too late.

“I bet the husbands love the idea,” Noelle said, still groggy from lack of sleep. She placed a hand on the butcher block to hold steady.

Jenna's eyes danced. “They do. The whole idea started as a joke. Ashley, Mara, and I had an impromptu pizza/movie night, and let's just say Mr. and Mrs. Smith gave us a few ideas.”

“The movie with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie?”

“Yep. Ashley questioned whether she could fit into that black leather outfit. Then Mara suggested she’d need petroleum jelly to get into those boots. That's when I said I had a better idea, and then it went from there.”

“I’m bummed I wasn't here.”

“Me too. But hey, we can hang out after your set Friday night.”

Noelle’s stomach tightened to the point of being nauseous and uncomfortable. She wasn't scared to sing. The response was more related to the fact she hadn’t had time to put her song list together, and she didn’t like hitting the stage unprepared. Put her in front of a hundred strangers and she could fake it. Put her in front of friends and family and she got nervous—mostly because she cared what they thought of her work.

“You’re turning green. Don't tell me you’re gonna back out.” Jenna placed a large box of jars on the counter and a stack of labels.

“No. Not backing out. I was hoping to try out some original songs, but they aren’t ready. I’ll have to do cover songs, and that’s not really going to show off the portfolio of work I’ve compiled. And without a band, you don’t get the full effect of the sound. I’m just a bit disappointed, that’s all.”

“Did you talk your cutie into coming?”

“Who? You mean Ethan?”

“Who else would I be talking about?”

“He’s not mine.” He’s not anybody’s. “He said he'd be there.”

“Good. I'll make sure we buy him a few drinks. Then you can jump him when you get home and spread on the Sin Sugar.”

“Won’t happen.” She believed him when he said it would never happen again.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. You’re gorgeous, and he's single. I'm surprised you haven't bumped boots already.”

She wasn’t about to tell Jenna she’d already indulged. Jenna would tell Ashley, Ashley would tell Mara, and before she could even blink her mother would find out.

“Double-fudgesicles. I forgot to ask your mom how many pies she wants this week. Would you mind running across the street and asking her? I’d call, but she…”

“…never answers the phone this early in the morning.” Noelle and Jenna finished in unison.

“No problem. I’ll run over now.”

Noelle wrapped her scarf around her neck, grabbed her coat, and headed out the back door. A couple of minutes later, she pushed open the back door of the café and headed for the kitchen.

“Good morning, Ted.” She peeked behind the grill’s door, finding the huge man prepping his workstation for the day. “Have you seen my mom?”

Ted pointed with a scary big knife in the direction of the bathrooms without turning.

“Thanks.”

She chuckled at Ted’s typical response. Some things never changed. He’d never been much of a talker. Getting him to say anything before noon was like getting the toaster to sing.

She wove her way through the tables toward the other side of the café.

“Mom?” She called when she got close enough to the restrooms.

“In here,” a loud voice boomed out from behind the door.

Noelle peeked around the heavy metal door. A toilet flushed, and Maggie walked out of the nearest stall with a plunger in hand. “This stupid thing keeps clogging. I need to call a plumber.” Maggie dropped the gadget in a bucket to wash her hands. “It’s early. I thought you hated mornings.”

“I don’t hate mornings, I just haven’t convinced my brain and body to function before the sun is up and I’ve had several cups of coffee.” She handed her mom a paper towel. “I promised to help Jenna with some baking, but she needs your pie order.”

“It’s on the counter.” Maggie tossed the wad of wet paper in the trash and picked up the bucket. “Let me get it.”

Typical Mom, she barreled through the café, always in a rush. If she'd been in a farmyard, the geese would have scattered, squawking and hissing and running in all directions. She pulled a pen out of her black apron, sliding the ballpoint down the extensive list.

“This should do.” She handed Noelle the lined piece of paper.

“Sheila said she’d cover the café Friday evening so I can hear you sing.”

Anxious misgivings made it difficult for her to swallow. “Mom, you didn’t need to do that. You've heard me sing before.”

“Of course I'm coming to hear my baby sing.”

“The café is always so busy on Friday nights. Are you sure?”

“The staff can handle it without me for one night.”

Noelle tugged on the end of her scarf. The multicolored yarn squeezed tighter and tighter around her neck, cutting off her air. “You don’t like the food at Jack’s.”

“They got a new chef.” Maggie leaned a palm on the counter. Her head tipped slightly at an angle. “What's this all about? You don't want me to come hear you sing?”

Dangit. “It’s not that. You’ve always been supportive, but I know deep down you never wanted me to sing.”

“That’s a bunch of bull-frogs.” She scooted around the counter. “Who told you that?”

“You did.”

“I never said any such thing.” Maggie pointed at the swivel chair. “Sit.”

Noelle slowly climbed onto the red rotating chair at the counter while saliva clogged the back of her throat.

“Seems you’ve been storing up a pile of hurt, so out with it.”

Noelle twisted the mug on the counter to the left, then right, then released a long sigh. “You keep telling me I remind you of my father.”

“You do. You’ve got his eyes, his ability to sing. And both of you are stubborner than an overloaded donkey.”

She couldn’t stifle her sigh. “My point.”

“Now you wait just a minute, missy. Your father was a fine man.”

“Yeah. The guy should have won the father of the year for knocking you up and leaving you in a hotel with no money and no way to get home. Plus, he got himself killed when he knew you were pregnant.”

“Oh, hon. That may have been what you heard, but that’s not how it was.” Maggie pulled the scarf away from Noelle’s face and brushed her hair back behind her shoulder.

Noelle nodded, unable to meet her mother’s eye.

“I loved your father. More than I ever wanted to admit.” Noelle could see emotions swelling and overwhelming her mother’s ability to speak. She patted her chest above her heart. “Oh, lordy, that man was funny. He could make me laugh—oh, how I laughed. When he walked into the room, everybody looked his way.” Maggie’s voice softened into a sentimental rhythm. “Your father, he made me feel special. And boy, could he belt out a tune. Makes my heart pitter-patter just thinking about it.” Her mom closed her eyes and swayed back and forth before again opening her eyes.

Wow. Didn’t see that coming.

Maggie tapped Noelle on the thigh. “Now, you listen to me. I want there to be no mistake.” Her mother’s tone broadened and couldn’t be ignored. “I've never, ever had anything against you singing.” Noelle’s mouth fell open, but her mother held up her hand to stall anything she planned to say. “As your mother, I have every right to want to protect you. When I was young, I spent years following your father and the band from city to city. We never had more than two dimes to rub together. There were times we didn’t know where our next meal would come from, but we were mostly happy. Forgive your mama, but I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to have an easier life.”

“But why did my father leave you in that hotel?”

“You got it wrong, hon. He’s never left me. He died.”

“But, you said…”

Maggie’s eyes misted. “He was so excited after I told him I was pregnant. He talked about finishing the tour, maybe settling in Nashville or Austin, doing studio work. He wanted to get married and start a family.”

“Wait. He wasn’t mad that you were pregnant?”

“Heavens, no.” Her brows drew into a single line. “The idiot drove off to get a six-pack of beer so we could celebrate. A semi ran a red light and hit him on the way to the store.”

Noelle leaned back in the chair, stunned. “So he wanted me? My father wanted me?” She pulled at the fringe on her scarf. “I thought I reminded you too much of him.”

Maggie leaned in to get a good look at her face. “Is that why you left? You thought you reminded me of him?”

“Yes. Well, no. I left because I was young and foolish and wanted to prove to you I could make a living singing.”

“Honey. Why didn’t you say something?”

Her mom brushed at a tear that managed to find a path down her cheek. She’d never seen her mom cry. Ever. Concern welled in her core, and she touched her mom’s hand.

“I didn’t know where to start. You never talk about the past.”

“Why should I? It’s the future we need to look after. No one can change the past.” Maggie squeezed her fingers. “If you want to know the truth, you sing better than Fowler ever did, and your father was a great singer.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve tried, but I can’t get a contract. Every time I try out, people tell me I’m not what they’re looking for.”

“You’re so much like your father. You have to learn life’s lessons the hard way. It takes talent…” Maggie lifted Noelle’s chin and looked directly into her eyes, “…which you have, plus a lot of luck if your goal is to land a record deal. In the meantime, you just have to love what you do enough to keep doing it until the moment comes.”

“Do you ever think it will happen for me?”

A slow smile crept across her mom’s face. “I guess you’ll have to keep singing and writing to find out.”

“Is my father the reason you never remarried?”

“Partially. After I had you, I was lost. I stayed with the band a few years. Held onto his memory. I was even stupid enough to sleep with Jimmy. He was your father’s best friend.”

“Uncle Jimmy knew my dad?”

“He was the bass player in the band.”

“When did you meet David?”

“I met David a few years later at a concert. He was good to me, but we just didn’t have the spark Fowler and I had. The best things that came out of the relationship were your brother and sister, and I had someone to hang out with. Life can get lonely, you know? However, I never could see myself being married, or putting up with another person for long.”

“And here I thought you raised me to be independent because you hate men.”

“Boy, you sure got a pile of funny ideas in that head of yours. Who stole my kid and replaced her with an alien?”

“Funny.” Noelle scratched at a spot on her mom’s apron and brushed off the dried food. “Fowler was good-looking. I mean, for an old guy.”

“Hey, your father and I were the same age, and I’m not old.” Her mom picked up a strand of hair and wrapped it around her finger, playing with the ends. “I don’t think there’s anyone more proud of you than I am, but he would have been proud of you too. You picked a hard road to travel, baby girl, but you’ve done well.”

“You think so?”

Her mom straightened. “Where’s that can-do spunk I taught you kids? You go out there, put your shoulders back, chin up, and you show them what you can do.”

“I love you, Mom.” Noelle leaned closer, and instantly her mom wrapped her arms around her. A dryer-warmed blanket of love settled around her shoulders, as the false belief she’d held on to for too long crumbled and drifted away.

Her non-hugger mom held on a couple of seconds more than usual. Most likely to make sure Noelle got the hint. “I know, Mom. You don’t have to say it.”

“You’d better know I love you. I’ve said it enough. By now it should have stuck.”

Noelle rotated her mom’s hand over and drew a heart with her finger, then closed her mom’s hand. “Will you please tell me what’s going on with you? Are you sick? Do you have cancer?”

“There you go again, making mountains out of molehills. I’ve just got lumpy boobs. That’s all. Grandma had ‘em. I have ‘em. I suspect you’ll have ‘em too. Just the way we’re built, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”

“Are you positive that’s all it is?”

Her mom brushed her bangs aside. “Always the worrier. I don’t have the Big C or anything like that. When’s the last time you had your boobs smashed?”

“A couple of months ago. I had a Pap smear too. I figured I’d better get it all done before I quit my job and didn’t have any medical insurance.”

“Smart girl.” Maggie swallowed several times, and a smile gained momentum before her eyes got watery.

“Don’t you have someplace to be?”

Her mother’s gruff question she understood and appreciated. Now she understood her mom’s heart had been broken and never fully healed. The knowing explained a lot of things.

“I’d better get this list over to Jenna. She’s probably wondering where I wandered off to.”

“You go on, then. I’ll see you on Friday. I’ll stay in the back where you can’t see me, so you’ll be fine.”

Noelle folded the list and placed it safely in her pocket. “I’ll save you a front row seat.”

Maggie’s shoulders pushed back. “You never liked me sitting in the front row.”

“Time changes things.”

“Yes, they do. You’re a grown woman.” Her mom’s eyes went misty again, and she swiped off the tears with the back of her hand. “I gotta do something about that toilet.”

And, just like that, her mom grabbed the bucket and disappeared down the hall.

Noelle eased out a healing sigh.

How could she have been so wrong all these years? Self-doubt had gnawed at her confidence, fraying the edges and making it smaller. Making her hesitate. Question everything. Was she good enough? Could she make it as a singer? How could she make her mom proud? She didn’t need to worry about the last one anymore.

What else had she been wrong about?