At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Books Book 1)

Praise from reviewers and readers:

“Bretton has few peers among contemporary romance novelists when it comes to combining escapist romance with everyday, messy reality. She’ll make you believe that love can happen anywhere…”– The Romance Reader

Sequel needed!!
“I loved the characters in this book and the town so much…a perfect love story that is satisfying and believable…”

an excerpt from

At Last

by Barbara Bretton
Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Bretton and published here with her permission

Prologue

The last person to actually see Graciela Taylor on the day she left Idle Point, Maine forever was old Eb at the Stop & Pump. Maybe if she’d planned her getaway a little better—or had any idea at all that she was going to leave her fiance standing at the altar—she would have seen to it that her gas tank was full. As it happened, the needle on her fuel gauge hovered over the E and she was forced to make a right into Stop & Pump and pray Old Eb wasn’t in a talkative mood. She might have taken her chances that she’d make it to Portland before the engine sputtered then shut down, but that was too risky. The last thing she wanted was to run out of gas on Main Street and bump into Noah on his way home from the wedding that wasn’t.

Old Eb peered out from his office, and then did a double-take which didn’t bode well for her speedy getaway. He’d been around since long before Gracie was born and he’d seen everything there was worth seeing around Idle Point and a few things he’d rather forget. He was the one who’d found Gracie’s mother dead at the bottom of the ravine, trapped in that old Chevy with the horn blaring. He was the one who’d found Gracie, thrown clear from the wreck and crying to beat the band. He was the one who wrapped her in blankets and held her close while they waited for her father to identify his wife’s body. She and Eb had a history. If he had any idea what she was up to, it would be all over.

“You forgetting where you’re supposed to be?” he asked as he ambled over to where she stood next to the old Mustang she’d bought four years ago with the money she’d saved working in the kennels for Doctor Jim. “They’re down at the cove waitin’ for you, Gracie. I’d be there myself if I didn’t have to earn a living.”

She smiled, wishing she’d taken time to exchange her short lacy white dress for the pair of jeans and a sweater. She looked like exactly what she was: a runaway bride. “I’m on my way,” she said, carefully not specifying her destination. She was too fond of Eb to lie to him.

Eb checked his pocket watch. “Thought the clambake began at two o’clock,” he said. There was a sharp note of curiosity in his voice as his faded blue eyes took in her outfit. “It’s near to half-past. You can’t be late for your own goodbye party.” Eb knew that she was due to leave for Philadelphia the next morning to begin her first year of veterinary school at the University, the goal she’d been striving for since she was barely old enough to walk.

“I know,” she said, “but I’m running on fumes and…” She shrugged. “You know how it is. There was so much to do.” He was a native New Englander, same as she. Didn’t he know New Englanders were famous for minding their own business?

Eb checked her oil and cleaned her windshield while the tank guzzled down the gallons. If he wondered why Sam the Cat was grooming herself on the passenger’s seat, he never said. Gracie peered nervously over her shoulder every time she heard a car approach. A clean getaway, that was all she wanted. When the dust cleared and the hurt feelings mended, maybe then they could talk. She’d left a note for Noah on the kitchen table. She told him that she was sorry, that she hadn’t planned on any of this, but wasn’t it better to put an end to it now before it was too late?

Besides, how did you explain to the boy you’d loved since kindergarten that leaving him was the best thing you could ever do for him.

Eb screwed the gas cap back on good and tight.

“What do I owe you?” she asked as she reached for her purse through the open car window.

Eb plunged his gnarled hands deep into the pockets of his overalls. “Just get yourself a good education, girlie, then come back home to us where you belong. I’ve waited a long time to dance at your wedding. I want to see you all set up with a job and a husband and a few babies.”

He didn’t have any idea what he was saying.

You don’t understand, Eb. There was supposed to be a wedding today but I backed out. We were going to throw aside all of our plans and run away to Paris together. Can you imagine, Eb? I love him and he loves me but we don’t have a chance in the world of being happy together. His father has seen to that. That’s why I’m going to get behind the wheel of my car and get away from here before I start believing in fairy tales.

Noah had been part of her life for as long as she could remember and he had owned her heart almost as long. Even during those years when he was away at boarding school, he was never far from her mind. Not that he’d known she existed until he came back to Idle Point after his father’s first heart attack and everything fell into place. Loving him seemed as right and natural as breathing; marrying him was simply the next step.

Noah and Gracie had been together since senior year of high school and they had stayed together despite the best efforts of their families to break them up. You wouldn’t think their fathers’ paths would have crossed very often, not even in a small town like Idle Point, but the hatred between the two men was legendary and the poison spilled over onto their children. They had learned through experience to keep their love hidden away from their families.

When they went off to college—Noah to B.U., Gracie to the University of Pennsylvania—everyone was sure distance would put an end to their teenage love affair. Nobody but Noah and Gracie knew of the weekends spent sharing pretzels on the steps of the museum in Philadelphia or strolling near Independence Hall, talking about the home they would build together, the family they would raise. Gracie would join Doctor Jim’s veterinary practice while Noah wrote the Great American Novel.

She’d heard the whispers from some of her so-called friends, the ones who wondered how a plain girl like Gracie who lived over by the docks managed to land someone like Noah. Gracie was serious and ambitious and poor. Noah was a rich man’s son who thought life was his for the taking. He’d flunked out of B.U. and if he had some game plan for his life, he wasn’t sharing it. He wasn’t serious about anything, didn’t Gracie know that? One day he’d call her up and say, “You know there’ll never be anyone else like you, Gracie, but I’ve met someone else and…”

Everyone but Gracie knew that was going to happen one day. Why couldn’t she get it through her head that she was fooling herself? Their poison-tipped words hurt but a long time ago Gramma Del had taught herself how to deflect the sting and hold her head high. They never knew how good their aim was. Noah loved her for who she was inside, not for how she looked, not for what she owned. He didn’t care that she was tall and skinny and blessed with brains, not beauty; with a heart, but not a bank account. They loved each other and up until last night she had believed that was all they needed.

Whoever thought it would be Gracie who broke Noah’s heart?

She had Simon Chase to thank for ruining their lives. He’d shown up at her father’s house an hour ago. Sixty minutes was all it took to shatter her dreams. Her future father-in-law was an imposing man, tall and white-haired and blessed with the natural arrogance of the born Yankee aristocrat. His bad heart had slowed him down but the fierceness of his gaze when he looked at Gracie hadn’t softened a bit. She had always suspected that Simon didn’t like her but she’d never imagined the depth of it until that afternoon.

Simon had connections up and down the coast of Maine and right across into lake country. Noah and Gracie had slipped down to Portland last week to apply for their wedding license, figuring nobody in the city office would pay any attention to them. They were wrong. A clerk recognized the Chase name and mentioned it to his superior who happened to mention it over lunch to a friend and an hour later Simon’s office phone was ringing with the news.

“You’ll do the right thing,” Simon had said as he rose to leave. “If you love my son the way you say you do, I know you’ll do what’s best for him. There’s really no other way, is there, Graciela?”

It wasn’t until Simon and his late model Lincoln disappeared down the road that she found the envelope propped up on the kitchen table between the sugar bowl and the salt and pepper shakers. Ten thousand dollars to leave his son alone. Ten thousand dollars to keep her from ruining Noah’s life. Apparently that was the going rate for betrayal in Idle Point.

“I mean it, girlie,” Eb was saying. “Save your gas money for when you’re filling your tank in New Jersey. Nobody gives anything away in New Jersey.”

“I can’t let you do that,” she said. “You already gave me that beautiful silver mirror that belonged to Sarah when I started high school.”

His eyes glistened with tears. “Sarah loved you like one of her own grandbabies. You know she always prayed you and Noah would end up together one day.”

Oh God. Can this get any worse? Let me get out of here before what’s left of my heart breaks in two.

She knew when she’d been bested and kissed Eb on a weathered cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re very dear to me.”

Eb turned red beneath his grey whiskers. “You make us proud, Gracie. Understand?”

“I’m doing the right thing,” she said as she climbed behind the wheel. “This is the best thing for both of us.” Simon Chase had proved that beyond a doubt less than an hour ago.

“What did you say?” Eb asked but she only smiled at him. She’d said too much as it was.

She gunned the engine and reached into the glove box and withdrew an envelope thick with bills. “Here,” she said, handing it to Eb through the open window. “Now you can take yourself that vacation you and Sarah always talked about.”

Her wheels spun on the gravel as she roared out of the gas station.

“Hold your horses!” Eb’s voice floated after her. “There’s money in this envelope! What do you –?”

The last thing Gracie saw in her rear-view mirror was old Eb standing in the middle of the road with Simon Chase’s blood money dangling from his fingers like a flag of surrender.

She didn’t slow down again until she reached Boston.

Chapter One

Gracie Taylor fell in love with Noah Chase on the first day of kindergarten. She was five-and-a-half years old and so homesick she thought her heart would stop beating when Gramma told her that she had to stay there in that cold and scary schoolroom and that she wouldn’t come back for Gracie until two o’clock. She was standing near the coatroom and trying very hard not to cry when he appeared at her side. “You’d better hang up your sweater before the bell rings,” he said, “or else Mrs. Cavanaugh’ll give you a black star.” He had bright blue eyes and thick dark lashes and when he smiled at her she thought her heart would float up to the ceiling like a birthday balloon. She’d never seen anyone like him before in her entire life except in storybooks where beautiful children lived in beautiful houses with parents who loved them forever and ever.

He tugged at her sleeve and his smile grew even brighter. “Better do it,” he said. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Gracie, who never said a word unless she had to, looked deep into those twinkling blue eyes and said, “How do you know about the black stars?”

“Everybody knows,” said her new friend. “Gold stars when you’re good. Black stars when you’re bad.”

Gracie didn’t care a bit about black stars but if he thought they were a bad thing, so did she. She hung up her favorite red sweater on the last empty hook in the coatroom. Gramma Del had given her that sweater for her last birthday and she loved it. It had always seemed special but now it only looked shabby and not special at all, hanging there with the other kids’ sweaters. Their sweaters were hand-knit of the softest wool, with tiny ducks and bunnies embroidered along the edges. You couldn’t buy sweaters like that at the discount store where Gramma Del bought Gracie’s. Gracie was sure that each one of those special sweaters had been made by a mommy.

The classroom was filled with noisy, laughing children, all pushing and shoving each other like puppies in a basket. She lived out by the docks, an only child in a world of adults. Her best friends were her books (especially the ones about animals), her goldfish, and her beloved hamster named Wilbur. She felt like herself around animals, not shy and quiet the way she did around people.

Gracie jammed her hands into the pockets of her corduroy jumper. Her feet felt big and heavy, too heavy to move her into the room. Why did she have to go to kindergarten anyway? She already knew how to read and she could print out her name and her address and her telephone number with her favorite Crayola. Who wanted to sit around with a bunch of dumb kids, playing with blocks and finger paints when you could be reading about Lassie or the Cat in the Hat?

The boy with the bright blue eyes twisted around in his seat then pointed at the desk next to him. He smiled at her like it was Christmas morning and having her sit next to him was the best present under the tree. Suddenly she was moving forward, her eyes locked with his, moving right past the other kids just like she was one of them. She slid into the cold wooden seat and folded her hands on top of the desk.

“What’s your name?” he asked, leaning across the aisle.

“G-Gracie,” she said, wishing she had a pretty name like Tiffany or Marisa. “What’s yours?”

“Noah,” he said, screwing up his face like a dried-up lemon.

She giggled. Two of the other little kids turned around and saw what Noah was doing and they giggled too and before she knew it, she was right there in the center of a group of laughing children, almost like she belonged there.

***

It was the best day of Gracie’s life. When Mrs. Cavanaugh said, “Class dismissed!” Gracie wished she could blink her eyes and start the day all over again. She followed the other kids into the coatroom to claim her sweater and the buzz of talk and laughter all around her felt like a big hug. They all liked Noah and since Noah liked Gracie, they opened their circle wide enough to let Gracie in too. It was like being welcomed into a magic place where only good things happened and she hated to see it end.

Gramma Del was waiting for her by the gate. She had Mondays off from her job as cook for the richest family in Idle Point. “You look real happy this afternoon, missy,” she said, tugging on Gracie’s stick-straight ponytail. “Did you have a good first day of school?”

“I taught them double Dutch,” she said, bouncing in place with excitement. “We have a class parakeet and two gerbils. I had milk and cookies. We took a nap on squishy pillows and I even had my own blanket.” She hadn’t closed her eyes once, not even for a second. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Your own blanket!” Gramma Del nodded. “Now that’s something.” She took Gracie’s hand and they started walking. Gramma Del was old and she didn’t walk real fast which was fine with Gracie. She wanted the day to last forever. “Did you make any friends?”

“Terri and Laquita and Mary Ellen and Joey and Tim and Don and Noah.” She almost wasn’t going to tell Gramma Del about Noah. In a way she wanted him to be her very own special secret friend but she couldn’t keep anything from her grandma.

Gramma Del stopped walking. “Noah?”

“Yes,” said Gracie. “He held a seat for me.”

Gramma Del’s lips all but disappeared. “Did you know I cook for Noah’s daddy?”

“No,” said Gracie. “He has blue eyes, Gramma.”

“Well, those blue eyes won’t be around too long, missy. His daddy has big plans for that little boy.”

Boarding school.

Prep school.

Ivy League.

Gramma Del’s words swirled over Gracie’s head but she wasn’t paying much attention. She was thinking about Noah and the class parakeet and the gerbils and taking in all the sights as the other kids met up with their mommies or big brothers and sisters. Laquita was standing at the corner all by herself, looking like she didn’t mind being alone one bit. She was a very quiet little girl with a round face and long black hair that spilled down her back. Mary Ellen and Joey, redheaded twins, waved at Gracie from the back seat of a big green station wagon. Tim and Don’s big brother was yelling at them to get in the car right this minute but they were talking to Terri near the school bus. Most of the kids lived in town and had been playing together since they were little babies.

Across the street, Noah walked quietly next to a well-dressed woman. The woman looked straight ahead as they walked. Noah looked down at the ground. For some reason Gracie’s heart hurt as she watched them. That couldn’t be his mommy. A mommy would hold your hand and ask you about your day and look happy to see you again, like Gramma Del did but better.

Gramma Del was daddy’s mother. Gracie knew she did the best she could, because that’s what Gramma Del was always telling her. “You should have better than an old woman taking care of you,” she liked to say when she was giving Gracie her bath. “Things aren’t meant to be this way.” She lived out back in the small cottage behind the house and mostly minded her own business when it came to her son’s comings and goings. She looked the other way when her son rolled home smelling like beer at all hours of the day or night and only spoke up when he didn’t come home at all.

“This child deserves better,” Gracie had heard her grandma say more than once. “She deserves a real family.” Sometimes Gramma Del came into the house very late and carried a sleepy Gracie out to the cottage to spend the night. “I had a bad dream,” she liked to say as she made room for Gracie in her narrow feather bed. “Glad you could visit.” Gracie always laughed, even though she knew that wasn’t the reason at all.

Maybe that was why daddy had brought home that skinny red-haired woman at Christmastime and said, “Graciela, meet Vicky. She’s your new mother.” Gracie had burst into tears then run from the room as fast as her new sneakers would carry her. Daddy had yelled at her to come back and apologize—”right this second, young lady!”—but Gracie didn’t care. She threw herself on her bed and sobbed until her eyes hurt so bad she couldn’t see. She didn’t want some stranger coming in and pretending to be her mother. She wanted her real mother, the brown-haired woman with the gentle smile who looked down at her from the photograph on her nightstand.

Gracie wasn’t sure how she knew this but somehow she understood that she wasn’t supposed to talk about the nights when her daddy fell asleep on the floor with an empty bottle beside him or how the redheaded woman walked out one day at the beginning of the summer and took everything that wasn’t nailed down along with her. Gracie had been in her room, pretending to be sound asleep, but she’d really been watching through a crack in the door while the woman and her squeaky-voiced sister took money from daddy’s pockets and the bottles off the shelves.

No, she’d never talk about any of that. Not with anyone. People whispered enough about the Taylors anyway, about how her daddy couldn’t seem to hold down a job and how he should be ashamed to have his mother working as a cook to keep a roof over his lazy no-good head. She hoped Noah wouldn’t stop liking her once he found out about her family because if he did, she would never go back to school again and nobody, not even Gramma Del could make her.

But then maybe Noah already knew. If Gramma Del worked for Noah’s daddy, maybe Noah knew all about her family and liked her anyway.

She hugged that thought close all the way home.

***

“Change your clothes before you have your snack, Noah.” Mary Weston took off her hat and placed it neatly in the center of the hall table with the red feather pointing toward the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Your parents will be home from their trip sometime this afternoon. We don’t want them finding you looking like a hooligan, do we?”

“No, ma’am.” He didn’t have any idea what a hooligan looked like or why they wouldn’t want him to look like one. Hooligan. The sound of it inside his head made him smile. Hoooo-li-gin. Somehow he’d bet hooligans had more fun than he did.

“Is something funny?”

“No, ma’am.”

Mary’s sour face puckered even more. “Then why aren’t you upstairs changing clothes?”

Noah didn’t have to be told again. He turned and raced up the steps two at a time, putting as much distance between himself and the housekeeper as he possibly could. He wished school could last twice as long. It was a lot more fun playing with the other kids than being alone in this scary old house. He ran down the second floor hallway, making sure he didn’t catch sight of the pictures on the wall. His mother said these were his relatives, the people his father came from, and that he should be proud but Noah was mostly scared. They were all old and angry-looking and sometimes he thought they’d reach right out of their picture frames and spank him just because they could. He’d never told that to anyone before. He knew what they’d say. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you, young man. Paintings can’t hurt you. Now stop being silly and practice your piano.”

He didn’t want to practice his piano. He wanted to tell stories about monsters who ate stupid grownups and wizards who rose up from the rocks out beyond the Point and turned lonely little boys into knights in shining armor. He had already decided that that was what he would do when he grew up. He wanted to live in a crowded house with lots of brothers and sisters and noise and music and laughter and dogs. Maybe a dog in every room and parents who let you play in the mud without getting yelled at.

Noah’s parents loved him. They told him so all the time, like when they were heading out the door for a night in Boston or a weekend on the boat. Sometimes days would go by when he didn’t even see his father and that made the rare nights when they all ate dinner together special. He watched his father very carefully and tried to imitate the way he held his knife and fork, the tilt of his head when he spoke. His father was the smartest man in the entire world and, with one exception, Noah wanted to be just like him when he grew up. He’d make sure he had plenty of time for his kids.

***

“What is the problem with you, child?” Gramma Del planted her hands on her hips. “There’s nothing wrong with that blue jumper.”

“It’s not pretty enough,” Gracie said, scowling at her reflection in the small white-framed mirror nailed to the wall over her dresser. “I want to be pretty.”

Gramma Del sighed and Gracie pretended she hadn’t heard the sound. She knew just what it meant. She wasn’t pretty like Laquita or Mary Ann—the face in the mirror told her that—and most likely she never would be. Her face was small and narrow. Her eyes were plain ordinary brown and big like cartoon eyes. Her clothes always looked like they’d belonged to somebody else, even when they still had Dotty’s Discount Dress Store tags on them. Even Laquita who had all those brothers and sisters had nicer dresses.

More than anything, Gracie wanted to fit in. She’d been in kindergarten for three weeks now and she had learned a lot. As much as they liked her, she was still an outsider who couldn’t quite figure out why. It was more than the lookalike dresses from the big store down in Portland and the Little House lunchboxes. Maybe it was that they all had mothers who took them to school in the morning and waited outside for them in the afternoon. Even Noah’s mother showed up more often than not, all dressed in her fancy clothes that made Gramma Del roll her eyes when she thought Mrs. Chase wasn’t looking. “Doesn’t have the sense the good Lord gave her,” Gramma Del said, tugging at the hem of her grey sweater.

Gramma Del walked Gracie to and from school most days but every now and then her father took over the job. Gracie hated it when her father waited for her at the corner in his dented pickup truck with the sign Taylor Construction written on the driver’s door. Her father didn’t like to talk much in the mornings and he didn’t understand anything about matching your tights to your jumper or why peanut butter and jelly sandwiches should be on fluffy white bread, not rye with the little seeds that got between your teeth.

But oh how she loved school. For a few hours every day it didn’t matter that she wasn’t like the rest of them. In that little classroom, she was one of the gang. She could read what was on the blackboard before Mrs. Cavanaugh explained it. At first Laquita and Noah thought it was some kind of magic trick. Then, when they realized she could read and write the looks on their faces made her laugh. She knew the mama gerbil was going to have babies before Mrs. Cavanaugh did.

Mary Ann saved a place next to her at naptime and even though she’d much rather nap on Noah’s side of the room, she didn’t want to hurt Mary Ann’s feelings so she stayed where she was. Besides, she could watch Noah from over there and not be afraid he was going to catch her doing it. She loved the way his thick dark lashes rested against his cheeks, the way he smiled a little in his sleep. Sometimes he seemed ashamed to be her friend but that was okay too because she knew that when Don and Tim and the others ran off, she’d still be there waiting for him.

***

Noah’s parents didn’t argue very often. The sound of their cultured Yankee voices, raised loud enough to be heard from the hallway, scared him. He pressed himself against the wall near the kitchen and tried hard not to listen but their words found him just the same.

“Del brought her here when she was a baby,” his mother said. “I don’t see the difference, Simon. She was no trouble then and she’ll be no trouble now.”

“I have nothing against the child,” his father said, “but I don’t want to open the door to her father.”

“She’s a little girl. Do you want her safety on your conscience?”

“I’ll agree,” his father said, “but only as an interim measure. Del has two weeks to make other arrangements.”

The silence was long and dark and Noah wondered what it was about Gracie’s father that made his own father sound so serious. Noah had seen Gracie’s father three times in front of school, hunched behind the wheel of a truck with swirly letters painted on the side. He didn’t walk Gracie to the steps like her Grandma Del did. He didn’t meet her at the corner like Noah’s mother. Instead Gracie’s father stayed in the car and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and when Gracie waved goodbye he just gunned the engine and drove off without waving goodbye right back.

Noah knew that there were rich people and poor people in the world. His parents had explained it to him when he’d asked why a maid cleaned their house and her own while his mother went to lunch and didn’t clean anything at all. What he didn’t know was why Gracie didn’t have a mother or why his father didn’t like her.

His parents’ voices grew softer again and the shaky feeling inside his stomach went away. His mother appeared in the doorway. She smiled at him but he saw that her eyes looked sad. “There you are,” she said, holding out her hand. “Breakfast is ready, then it’s off to school with you.”

“Are you and Father mad?” he asked as he slid his hand into hers.

The smile faded. “Why would you ask that?”

“I heard you talking,” he said as they walked down the hallway to the breakfast room.

“Grownups sometimes sound very serious, honey, and it can sound like we’re angry. It’s just our way.”

“Is Gracie in trouble?”

She stopped and crouched down next to him, taking his face between her hands.. “Nobody’s in trouble,” she said and he noticed the shimmer of tears in her big blue eyes. “It’s just that Gracie needs a place to play after school and Del thought it might be nice if the two of you played together.”

“Here?” In his whole life he’d never had a friend come over to play and the idea made him want to turn somersaults up and down the hallway. Even his birthday parties were held at a fancy restaurant in Boothbay Harbor on the water.

His mother nodded. “Not as a permanent thing,” she said. “Just until Del can make other arrangements.”

“Can Laquita and Don and Tim come home with me too?”

“Maybe someday,” his mother said, the corners of her mouth angling down toward her chin. “Right now Gracie is as much as your father can handle.”

***

Sometimes Daddy slept in his La-Z-Boy with his feet pointed right at the TV screen and a shiny mountain of beer cans on the floor near the lamp with the shredded shade. Grandma Del said he worked too hard and that the sandman’s job was over before Daddy could even make it to his bedroom. He sprawled across the chair with his arms flung out over the sides and his feet hanging off that funny little leg rest that hung off the end of the chair and snored like a summer thunderstorm. She didn’t mind the fact that he fell asleep in his chair. Other daddies on TV did that too so she knew it was okay. That was how Gracie knew the way things were supposed to be.

Gracie hated the way the beer smell clung to his skin. It made him smell like a stranger, like somebody she didn’t want to know. She’d asked Gramma Del if maybe they could hide his six-packs but Gramma Del just shook her head and said the world wasn’t big enough to hide temptation from a man bound and determined to fall.

Five times in the last two weeks he’d forgotten to pick up Gracie from school and Mrs. Cavanaugh had to call Gramma Del at work. Gracie had sat quietly on the front step while Mrs.. Cavanaugh paced the sidewalk, glancing at her watch as she peered up and down the street. The worst part of all was the way the other parents looked at Gracie. Their eyes would get all big and sad-looking, and they’d quickly turn their heads away and walk a little faster.

“We’re going to make a few changes around here,” Gramma Del said as she walked Gracie to school the morning after Daddy drove his truck onto the McMahon family’s lawn and hit a sugar maple. Gramma said that Daddy wouldn’t be picking her up after school any more. From now on Gracie would be walking home with Noah and Mrs. Chase.

Gracie stared up at her grandmother. “I’ll go home with Noah?”

“Yes,” Gramma said. Her mouth was so tight the word barely squeezed itself out. “Mr. Chase said you can sit quietly in the kitchen with me while I fix their supper.”

“I can’t play with Noah? He has electric trains.”

Gramma’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Ouch!”

Gramma’s fingers loosened a teeny bit. “You are to stay in the kitchen with me, missy, and that’s an order. Mr. Chase doesn’t much like strangers in his house.” She laughed one of those grownup laughs that Gracie didn’t understand. “Except the ones on his payroll.”

***

It was said about Simon Harriman Chase that what he didn’t own wasn’t worth owning. His family had founded Idle Point before the Revolutionary War and it was his family who had kept it going through good times and bad. They had started out as shipbuilders and were modestly successful until Josiah Chase discovered a vein of tourmaline on his property and the family fortune was made. The Chase influence was still felt in shipbuilding, in tourmaline mining, in real estate, but for the last sixty years the Chase family had been synonymous with journalism. The Idle Point Gazette had achieved a national reputation for fair, incisive reporting and had the awards to prove it. Simon’s father handed over the reins of leadership to his eldest son eight years ago and so far Simon had managed to maintain the same standards of critical excellence his readers had come to expect from the Gazette.

He ran the paper, chaired the local Chamber of Commerce, volunteered his time and money to the school board, hospital, and church. He was a model citizen, an accomplished man who hated a child with an intensity that sometimes scared him.

The sight of poor plain little Graciela Taylor with her brown hair and brown eyes and skinny little body filled him with helpless rage. He didn’t wish her dead. He simply wished she had never been born.