Chapter 1
Chapter One: The Girl Behind the Counter
The bell above the antique shop door hadn’t rung in nearly an hour.
Arden Fairchild sat behind the counter staring at a ledger full of bad news.
Electric bill.
Property tax.
Insurance.
Inventory.
Thirty-seven dollars short.
Again.
The antique business wasn’t dying.
The town was.
That was worse.
A soft creak sounded from the back room.
Mrs. Whitmore emerged carrying a dusty box.
“You balancing the books again?”
“Trying to.”
“Any luck?”
“We’re only thirty-seven dollars short of the electric bill.”
Mrs. Whitmore smiled.
“That’s practically prosperity.”
Arden laughed despite herself.
Only in Rosehill.
The bell above the door jingled.
Both women looked up.
For a moment Arden assumed it would be another local.
Instead, a stranger stepped inside.
And immediately looked wrong.
Not dangerous.
Not threatening.
Wrong.
Like somebody had accidentally dropped a Manhattan businessman into a town that hadn’t changed its welcome sign since 1987.
His suit probably cost more than her monthly rent.
His shoes gleamed.
His watch caught the light.
Even the way he moved seemed expensive.
Mrs. Whitmore leaned toward Arden.
“Wealth.”
“You can tell?”
“I can smell it.”
Then the older woman vanished into the back room.
Coward.
Arden stood and walked around the counter.
“Can I help you?”
The stranger glanced over.
Hazel eyes.
Thoughtful.
A little tired.
“Just browsing.”
His voice matched the suit.
Smooth.
Controlled.
The sort of voice that usually got whatever it wanted.
Arden folded her arms.
“You’re not from around here.”
“No.”
“Business?”
“Something like that.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“Does it?”
“A little.”
He nodded toward a display case.
“Do all customers get interrogated?”
“Only the interesting ones.”
That earned a real smile.
Small.
Brief.
But real.
He wandered deeper into the shop.
Arden followed.
Pretending she wasn’t following.
Which probably fooled nobody.
He stopped beside an old brass telescope.
Then a shelf of watches.
Then a tray of jewelry.
He handled everything carefully.
Not like a collector.
Not like a tourist.
Like a man deciding what belonged to him.
That should have annoyed her.
Instead it made her curious.
Finally he stopped at a silver locket.
The one with the tiny rose engraved on the front.
Arden smiled.
“That’s one of my favorites.”
“Why?”
“Because everybody asks that.”
He turned the locket over.
“And?”
“And every object in this place has a story.”
“You know all of them?”
“Most.”
“Even this one?”
Especially this one.
Arden leaned against a display cabinet.
“That belonged to a woman who fell in love with the wrong man.”
His attention sharpened.
“Wrong how?”
“Poor.”
One eyebrow rose.
“That’s all it takes?”
“In Rosehill?”
She laughed.
“Sometimes.”
She told him the story.
Not the short version.
The real one.
The poor mill worker.
The wealthy daughter.
The father who refused the match.
The life neither of them wanted.
When she finished, he was still holding the locket.
Still listening.
Still looking at her.
“What happened to the man?” he asked quietly.
“No one knows.”
“And the woman?”
“She married somebody else.”
“Happy ending?”
Arden shrugged.
“Depends who you ask.”
For a moment he said nothing.
Then he looked down at the locket.
“I’ll take it.”
Arden smiled.
For the first time all day, the shop had made a sale.
For the first time all day, that wasn’t what interested her.
The link to this book is on my Wall, please go.
