The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

Abby forced a smile. “Maybe some other time, once I’ve had a chance to look around. But thanks for the directions, Bill. You’ve been a real help.”

He got the message and stood back, his lips pursed at the polite but clear indication that she wanted to be on her way. Abby lifted a hand in farewell as she pulled away from the pumps, knowing that she couldn’t hide forever. Sooner or later—probably sooner, once Bill started the proverbial ball rolling—the people of Jewell Cove would know that the Foster mansion and the bags of money that went with it all belonged to her. And if Abby knew anything about small towns, they’d all want to know what she planned to do with it; they’d all have suggestions and want their piece of the pie, wouldn’t they?

She rested her elbow along the open window as she slowed coming into town limits. She’d driven through fog until somewhere around the New Brunswick border, but now there was nothing but blue skies overhead as she crawled down Main Street.

Her first impression of the town had been that it reminded her of the seaside villages on Nova Scotia’s South Shore—a cheerful kaleidoscope of colorful homes and businesses above a small but vibrant harbor. That was fairly accurate, she realized, as fishing and pleasure boats bobbed on the surface of the cove. She slowed to watch a restored schooner slide effortlessly into the harbor to dock. The water glittered in the summer sun and the tangy scent of the sea filled her nostrils.

She paused at the one and only traffic light. The town looked like something off a brochure—complete with patriotic flags along storefronts and pots of cheerful geraniums, white petunias, and trailing lobelia. She snorted. Nothing was ever as perfect as it seemed on the outside. Especially innocent-looking, quaint towns with well-tended flower beds and wreaths on the doors and little girls in pigtails walking down the sidewalk eating cones of ice cream. Abby couldn’t help but think these little towns were painted so cheerfully as a form of defiance against the tragedy that always seemed to surround them. Fishermen lost at sea, that sort of thing. Resilience in the face of adversity. She’d seen enough of that growing up, moving from small town to small town.

Bill’s directions had been to follow Main Street to the end and turn on to Blackberry Hill Road, and from there up the mountain to Foster Lane. The only problem was Main Street didn’t end until it met the coastal highway again. She’d have to guess at how far a “couple of miles” was and hope she didn’t miss it.

She lifted her chin and let out a breath of relief as the sign for Blackberry Hill appeared. If she had her way, the house was going on the market and the sooner the better. She’d be free of this mess and could go back to Halifax with a clear conscience. No more nagging lawyer invading her e-mail and voice mail every few weeks.

She flicked on her blinker and made the turn.

* * *

Tom Arseneault put down the phone and sat back in his chair, his brow wrinkled in what was, lately, a constant state of worry.

Everyone said the economy was rebounding. He’d yet to see the proof. That was the second job he’d bid on that had gone under. A man needed to make a living and people simply weren’t spending. As it was, he was nearly finished with a basement reno project and the only thing on the immediate schedule was Jess Collins’s back deck at her shop. Seeing as Jess was family, Tom didn’t stand to make a lot of profit from that deal.

When the phone rang again he almost didn’t answer it. It seemed the only time it rang lately was to give him bad news. But on the third ring he couldn’t stand hearing the incessant chime of Beethoven’s Fifth—his assistant Cassidy’s attempt at office humor. The assistant who, at the moment, was taking yet another sick day. He picked up.

“Arseneault Contracting,” he said.

“Tom. It’s Meggie.”

His aunt. He relaxed in his chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. “Hey, Aunt Meggie. What can I do for you?”

Meggie didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “I have some news about Josh.”

His stomach clenched. His cousin Josh was still living in Hartford, but Tom wasn’t sure how long that was going to last. Josh’s wife, Erin, had been killed in action overseas on her last tour as an army medic. There wasn’t a lot of reason for Josh to stay in Hartford anymore.

The last time Tom and Josh had been in the same room together, Tom had come out of it with a split lip and Josh had sported a few bruised ribs.

“Is Josh okay?” Despite the bad blood between them, his heart squeezed a little at the thought of anything happening to his cousin. They had too much history.

“He’s coming home, Tom. To stay.”

The air went out of Tom’s lungs. He’d known this day would eventually come. Jewell Cove was Josh’s home. His family was here. He’d never belonged in Hartford, going into practice with Erin’s father. Josh, like the rest of the Collins family, was a small-town boy who needed to be close to the water. Not a city dweller.

And yet knowing Josh was coming home made the dull ache of Tom’s grief threaten to swell up again and he swallowed thickly. Josh was a constant reminder of all the things Tom didn’t like about himself, and despite how much he loved his cousin he couldn’t stand to look at him.

Tom had been in love with his cousin’s—with his best friend’s—wife. And he still felt like shit about it.

“Tom?”

Aunt Meggie’s voice came gently over the line, cutting him with its understanding. He took a breath and closed his eyes. “I’m still here. Sorry, Aunt Meggie.”

“No need to apologize. I thought you should hear it from me. It’s not like Josh is going to call with the happy news, is he?”

Tom chuckled at the wry tone in Meggie’s voice. Despite being Josh’s mother and naturally biased, she’d always been fair. Meggie and the girls had never despised Tom the way Josh did.

“When’s he coming?”

“Soon. He’s going to take over Phil Nye’s practice. He’s sharing the space with Dr. Yang until Phil retires in July.”

It was a done deal, then. In a way Tom was relieved. Things had been unsettled too long. If Josh came home they could at least sort out how they meant to go on. Hopefully resolve it without fists. More likely it would be with stonewalling silence. Josh was really good at keeping his true feelings hidden.