Jodi glared at Daniel Gleason.

He was even more handsome than he had been ten years earlier, and just as aggravating.

“You’ll be glad to go back to Chicago soon. Even if it is empty-handed,” he said.

“I agree with half that statement.” Daniel had charm and contacts, but she had the drive of needing something badly.

Daniel hopped up on his running board. “Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a matter of agreeing or disagreeing. We’re not playing on the same team anymore.”

“Have we ever?”

Their eyes locked for a breathless moment, both recalling when they had.

“This is different.”

He studied her for a long minute then waved before sliding inside the truck. “I know.”

As he began backing out of her aunt’s driveway, his eyes on her, she heard him shout, “This is war!”

Dear Reader,

My most important career is motherhood. Now that my daughter is applying to colleges and ready to leave the nest, I’ve been reflecting on what it means to be Mom. It is a miracle filled with joy, despair, frustration and–ultimately–fulfillment. I have a deep appreciation for the indomitable will of mothers to protect their children, to love them and to always keep them safe.

My sister Cathy personifies this type of parent. When Cathy’s daughter, Abbie, turned three, she was diagnosed with autism. I’m awestruck by my sister’s grace, strength and determination in helping Abbie grow into the beautiful young lady she’s become, a unique individual who takes me by surprise with her humor and outlook on life.

The idea that we do not need to meet society’s standards of “normal” or “perfect” to find happiness plays a large role in His Hometown Girl. What matters most is that we find joy in the life we’ve been given. Jodi, the single mother of her autistic son, Tyler, certainly deserves that happiness, which is why I gave them Daniel, a man who is strong enough to fight for his idea of the perfect family.

I would love to hear from you and learn your inspiring stories of parenting a special needs child. To contact me, please visit www.karenrock.com. Thanks!

Karen

His Hometown Girl

Karen Rock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN ROCK

Since Karen Rock’s grandmother passed her shopping bagfuls of Mills & Boon® Modern™ novels as a teen, it’s been her dream to add her voice to the romance genre. Now an author for Mills & Boon’s latest contemporary line, Heartwarming, Karen is thrilled to pen wholesome, tender, deeply romantic and relatable stories. When she’s not busy writing, Karen enjoys watching anything starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, cooking her Nona’s Italian family recipes and occasionally rescuing local wildlife from neighborhood cats. She lives in the Adirondack Mountain region with her husband, her much-appreciated beta-reader daughter and two King Charles Cavalier cocker spaniels who have yet to understand the concept of “fetch,” though they know a lot about love. For more information about Karen’s upcoming books, check out her website at www.karenrock.com, or follow her on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/KarenRock-Writes, or on Twitter, www.twitter.com/KarenRock5. She’d love to hear from you!

To the parents of children with special needs.

You are mighty warriors and the most loving caregivers. Please know that you are special, too.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

“TYLER, WHAT COLOR?”

Jodi Chapman peered from the blue card to the psychologist crouched before her autistic four-year-old, holding her breath. Please get this, Ty. A good evaluation meant entrance to this specialized school that would help him talk again.

But instead of responding, her towheaded only child yanked off his eyeglasses band and threw them at his feet. Her hopes fell with them.

“I’m sorry.” Jodi slung an arm around Tyler before he bolted for the train table. She’d known it’d be hard for him to focus when he’d pointed to it after entering Wonders Primary’s playroom. Her mouth felt like a desert as Beth’s pen scratched across the evaluation sheet. After an hour of assessments, Tyler wanted out when they desperately needed in.

“May I ask what you’re writing, Beth?” She struggled to put on Tyler’s glasses with one hand while holding him in place with the other. “Tyler, you can play with the trains in a little bit.” As a single mom, she wished she had three arms instead of two. Yet even that wouldn’t be enough some days. If only this wasn’t one of them.

“Keeping his glasses on will be a behavior goal if he attends school here this fall.” Beth lowered her clipboard, her khaki pants and green polo shirt lacking the wrinkles embedded in Jodi’s suit.

Jodi dragged in a deep breath and held Tyler tighter as he escalated from resistance to flailing.

If. Beth had said “if.” Jodi inhaled the childhood smells of crayons, apple juice and glue, her gaze darting around the vibrant room that’d be perfect for her son. Warm sunlight streamed from a round skylight, illuminating a large foam-sided circle that resembled a kiddie pool, filled with books and toys. A child-size cardboard castle stood beside a trunk overflowing with dress-up clothes. Floor puzzle pieces lead to its entrance. It was a far cry from the small apartment where her kind neighbor cared for Tyler.

Six children rocked and fidgeted on a circle of colored rug squares while their teacher read them a story. Aides walked the group’s perimeter, pulling some of the children’s hands away from their ears while others applied shoulder pressure to those flapping their hands.

“Show me the blue train, Tyler.” The psychologist pointed to the table and held out a hand, but Tyler batted it away.

“No hitting, Ty.” Jodi felt her lower eyelid twitch. The break in Tyler’s daily routine unsettled and overexcited him, the perfect storm for lashing out, poor baby.

“Do you want to play trains?” Beth tried again.

The psychologist tucked her clipboard under her arm at Tyler’s nod and headed toward the table. Before following, he squeezed Jodi’s knees, the sweet, unexpected gesture catching at her heart.

She blinked back tears when he wobbled on tiptoe after Beth and picked up a green train instead of the blue. Green was his favorite color. It might be the wrong answer for the evaluation, but it was right for him. Her chest tightened when the psychologist frowned and scribbled something on her clipboard, a brief glimpse showing a heavily marked page. Jodi imagined the comments. If only Wonders Primary knew the boy who patted her cheek until he fell asleep, the one who dressed Ollie, his stuffed elephant, in different outfits every day, the child who’d cried for a week after his father had walked out, and then never spoke again. Guilt churned in her stomach like a live thing.

* * *

“MRS. CHAPMAN?”

Jodi turned and smiled unevenly at a distinguished woman with close-cropped brown hair and an arched nose, her picture familiar from the school’s website.

She discreetly brushed her damp palm against her skirt and held out her hand. “It’s Ms. actually.”

“Ms. Chapman. Welcome. I’m Mrs. Garcia, school director.” Her hand was gripped, then released. “Thank you for coming in so quickly. Hopefully our last-minute opening for this fall will work out. You’ve been on the waiting list for—”

“Tyler’s doctor referred him a year ago,” she answered, though it’d felt longer than that. It’d been an anxious twelve-month involuntary wait to see if her application would be approved. Given the number of children around the country who attended this highly recognized school, she’d been told Tyler might not have this chance for three years. Or at all.

“If you’ll meet me in my office, I’ll join you once I’ve spoken with Beth. It’s the last door down the hall.”

Jodi glanced at the train table where her son ripped up tracks and smashed bridges. “Should I take Tyler with me?” Without her around, he might act out, give the wrong impression. Her heartbeat hammered.

“Our aides will watch him while Beth and I consult. Then Beth will take over when I join you.” Mrs. Garcia studied Jodi over rimless bifocals. “He’ll be in good hands.”

Jodi hesitated, then nodded, feeling helpless. There was nothing more she could do. Fate had taken the wheel and would steer them where it would.

At the door, she called, “Mommy will be right back, Ty.” But he continued playing without looking up and missed her reassuring smile. When he noticed she was gone, would he feel scared? Alone? With difficulty, she kept herself from running back to him.

She watched Beth hand Mrs. Garcia the clipboard, and their heads bent together. Jodi’s grip tightened on the doorknob. What verdict were they reaching?

“I’ll see you later, Tyler,” she yelled, louder now. Several children in the reading circle looked up, but not her son. Her chest squeezed as he zoomed the green train around a wooden building. Did he care that she was leaving? The harsh truth was that she honestly didn’t know.

She trudged down the hall and gave herself a pep talk. From everything she’d read, Wonders Primary excelled at working with challenged students. Hopefully they’d see Tyler’s potential. Believe in him the way she did.

Inside the wood-paneled office, she paced to the window and peered out at the foggy Chicago skyline, grateful to be here. Until now, the path to Tyler’s recovery had seemed as murky as the weather, her despair darker still. She rested her head against the cool windowpane and tried not to worry.

“Thank you for waiting, Ms. Chapman,” Mrs. Garcia spoke behind her a couple minutes later. “Would you have a seat?”

Jodi strode to a leather chair in front of an imposing desk and sat, her white knuckles contrasting against the brown upholstered arms. “How’s Tyler?”

“He’s in the right place at the right time.” Mrs. Garcia smiled, her red lipstick matching her manicured fingernails, which were splayed against the desk calendar. “We’d be happy to welcome him at Wonders Primary this coming fall.”

Jodi sagged in her seat. Finally. She wasn’t alone anymore...and she wouldn’t fail Tyler. His care would have the order and predictability they both needed.

“Beth and the rest of the assessment team recommended that Tyler receive physical therapy, sensory-integration occupational therapy, speech therapy, social-skills training and behavioral training. We have every confidence that he’ll make solid gains with us.”

The news knocked the wind out of Jodi. She knew her son needed help. His therapist and doctor had said as much. But hearing the long list made his condition seem graver and more severe than she’d let herself imagine. She clamped a hand over her jittering knee. It was unfair. Tyler hadn’t asked for this.

“I see,” she managed at last.

“I realize this is short notice.” Mrs. Garcia poured two cups of tea from an electric kettle on her credenza. “However, we’ll need a ten percent tuition deposit to hold the spot.” She offered Jodi a steaming mug. “Cream and sugar?”

Jodi shook her head and stared at the dark liquid, her wide eyes reflected back at her. In the excitement surrounding yesterday’s surprise call from Wonders Primary, she hadn’t asked about the cost.

She gulped her tea and the scalding liquid splashed down her throat. “And how much is tuition?”

Mrs. Garcia’s brows met over her prominent nose. “Sixteen thousand. We don’t provide that information on our website, but our secretary should have informed you when she called.”

“She might have,” Jodi admitted, her pulse thumping. Sixteen thousand? That couldn’t be the price. “Tyler was having a tough time over...well...something and I’m afraid I only wrote down the appointment time. Did you say sixteen thousand a year?”

Mrs. Garcia scooped out her tea bag and laid it on her saucer. “No.”

Air escaped Jodi in a rush. Thank goodness she’d heard that wrong. Her salary wouldn’t cover such a large fee, even if her ex-husband contributed. And that was a big if....

“It’s sixteen thousand a semester,” the Wonders Primary director corrected, “and each semester runs six months.”

Jodi splashed tea on her hand, too shocked to feel the burn when she set down her mug.

“But that...seems high.” And impossible.

“Yes.” The administrator’s spoon clanked against the sides of her cup as she stirred in a packet of sweetener. “However, our board feels the fee is justified given our specialized work and reputation. Nevertheless, I understand if this is more than you expected and wish to look elsewhere.”

Elsewhere? She’d tried everything and had nowhere left to turn. Jodi’s hands twisted. She was failing Tyler and she couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Disappointment settled around her slumped shoulders.

“I’m sorry to pressure you, Ms. Chapman, but there are many anxious families that would appreciate the chance to attend if you plan to withdraw.”

“Please. A moment.” Jodi strove to keep the panic out of her voice. She opened her purse to search for her calculator and found a Post-it note with her optimistic reminder: “Wonders Primary 10 a.m. J.” How could she have been so naive? Expert care like this didn’t come cheap. For people like her and Tyler, it might not come at all.

Her fingers encountered her cell phone and her screen saver flashed on. It was a picture of her and Tyler as she held him on her hip while he pointed at a hot air balloon. The festival had been a wonderful day, one of his better ones. They needed more of those after a year spent struggling through nightly therapy that ended with both of them in tears. Somehow this had to work.

“I’ll take the spot,” she blurted, then pressed her phone to her chest. What had she done?

Where Tyler was concerned, she tended to think with her heart.

“A wise choice,” said Mrs. Garcia, her self-assured voice doing little to soothe Jodi’s worries. “We’ll need your deposit by the end of this week and the balance of the first half at the start of the fall semester. We split our tuition into biannual payments to make it more accessible to families.”

“Yes,” Jodi agreed, her voice faint. Her body felt limp and light, as though she could blend with the white clouds billowing by the Tribune building across the street.

“Excellent. We’ll look forward to seeing Tyler in September.”

Despite Mrs. Garcia’s warm tone, Jodi shivered. September. Only three months to raise twice her current savings balance.

* * *

AFTER DROPPING OFF Tyler at her neighbor’s apartment and returning to work, she sat at her desk, numb. Her ex-husband, Peter, hadn’t returned her voice mails and her eyes lingered on her bare left hand, her mind inventorying her belongings. She shouldn’t have flushed away her wedding rings—even though she’d been pushed to her limit by Tyler’s wails for his vanished father. They would have helped to pay for the tuition to Wonders Primary.

Impulsive, her mother used to call her, just like her father. And look where that’d gotten him. How it had affected their family. She shrank from the memory but it found her anyway. If she hadn’t accepted a friend’s last-minute invitation rather than going home for chores, she would have been there when a borrowed skid loader dislodged and the auger her father had been lifting crashed down. Because of her absence, he’d been pinned for two hours before her mother returned from work and discovered him, the delay costing him his arm and their family their livelihood.

She buried her head in her hands. Her parents hadn’t blamed her, but she’d never forgiven herself. Never again would she put what she wanted ahead of duty. Yet when she’d tried keeping her failing marriage going for Tyler’s sake, that had backfired, too.

Her phone buzzed and she snatched it off her desk when she recognized the number.

“Peter?” It was a rare day when he returned her calls. Thank goodness today was one of them.

“We need to talk.” His distracted, impatient voice sounded as distant as ever.

“Yes. About Wonders Primary—” she began, knowing it was a long shot to ask, but for Tyler, anything.

“What? No,” he barked, and she flinched, recalling previous times he’d used that tone with her. And Tyler. “I’m getting remarried.”

Her mind skittered over that thought like a tongue probing for a cavity. After a moment, she relaxed. No pain. Tyler was her only priority, and the reason, according to her ex, that they’d split. For the hundredth time, she regretted her impulsive decision to marry Peter. On the other hand, that rash decision had brought her the greatest joy in her life: her beautiful boy.

“Congratulations,” she said, hoping he’d found a partner who would give him a “perfect” child. He’d resented having a son who couldn’t keep up with the other kids, who brought stares and snide comments from strangers. Her nightly research for autism treatments and insistence that Tyler’s condition was beyond her or their son’s control had only angered him further.

“I’m suing to lower my child support.”

Her office seemed to tilt and spin. He might as well have reached into her chest and seized her heart.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Tyler needs more money to go to a school for autistic children.”

“That was your label,” Peter blustered. “Not mine. You spoiled him. All that coddling. That’s why the kid wouldn’t walk until he was two.”

Jodi squeezed her eyes shut and counted backward from ten. “It’s a medical diagnosis, Peter. It’s not my fault.”

“Look. I don’t have time for this. My lawyers are sending papers over this week.”

She heard a beep, then silence, yet she kept the phone pressed to her ear for a moment, willing him to come back on, to say that he’d help.

Hands shaking, she dropped her phone in her purse and opened a file. Anything to steady her. At first she saw only a blur of numbers until her whirling mind settled enough to make out a purchase agreement. The Idaho farmers had agreed to sell their land to her employer, Midland Corp. Several families had even accepted her company’s offer to let them stay in their homes, rent-free, as contracted workers. They’d farm their old land for a paycheck instead of profits.

Despite her day, she felt some satisfaction in this hard-won deal. It was one of several she’d made that had helped Midland become the world’s largest food producer and owner of agricultural land.

“Ms. Chapman?” Her secretary’s voice came through the intercom.

“Yes, Linda.”

“Mr. Williams would like to see you in his office immediately.”

Jodi rubbed her throbbing temples. Of all the times to get a summons from her boss. “Please tell him I’ll be right there.”

The familiar sound of fingers tapping on keyboards, phones ringing and fax machines spitting out paper filled the corridor as she strode toward Mr. Williams’s office.

“Hi, Gail.” Jodi placed her hands on the granite counter before her boss’s door, noticed her chipped nail polish and yanked them down to her sides. “Mr. Williams wants to see me?”

Gail slid a candy bowl her way and lowered her voice. “You might want reinforcements.” She glanced at the door behind her. “He’s in a tear.”

Jodi’s stomach twisted and she ignored the treats. Focusing on work instead of her crisis felt impossible. Facing an irritated boss on top of that might be more than she could handle.

Well. There was nothing for it.

She took a deep breath, put on her business face, knocked and then strode inside. Her boss half rose from his seat and waved her to a chair. He was an imposing, florid man whose white comb-over contrasted with his helter-skelter black eyebrows. His thick glasses made his eyes seem to look everywhere and nowhere at once. When she perched on the edge of her seat, he shoved a folder across his desk.

“Got another acquisitions deal for you, Jodi.” He tugged at the striped tie that half disappeared into his neck roll. “Espresso?”

Knowing better than to argue, she accepted the minimug and sipped, careful not to make a face. It sure wasn’t chamomile, and she could have used the soothing blend to settle her jangling nerves.

“Good, eh?” Mr. Williams beamed and Jodi nodded, bolting back the rest of the foul brew.

“Did you mention something about a new deal?” It took every ounce of her dwindling energy to keep her voice steady.

Her boss held out the folder. “I believe you’re familiar with this area.”

Jodi grabbed the file while her mind replayed her conversations with the Wonders Primary director and her ex. How would she find a way to pay for Tyler’s care if her husband wanted to contribute less?

She started when Mr. Williams cleared his throat, and then she flipped the file open and froze at the location typed on the cover sheet.

Cedar Bay, Vermont. She dropped it back on his desk, blinking rapidly.

“This looks like a large deal. Surely Jake or Micah—” She sought to rein in her rising voice. “Brady—” Logic, not emotion, she reminded herself. She’d made too many mistakes in life by ignoring that rule.

“Don’t have the connections there that you do, and we need this land to stay ahead of the competition.” Her boss twisted the end of a gold-plated pen, the point appearing and disappearing. “Besides, they already tried, with the exception of Brady, who’s still tied up in Mexico. Look, Jodi, it’s your hometown.”

“I haven’t been there since I left for college.”

“You still have family there.” Her supervisor pointed his pen at a nearby picture. In it, the executives mugged in red Santa hats or antler headbands. “I met your aunt at last year’s holiday party. Grace, I believe?”

Of course Mr. Williams would remember that detail, just as he stored every tidbit, small or large. Her mind worked frantically. How could she get out of this? She needed to stay in town and sort things out for Tyler.

She rose. “I’m sorry, Mr. Williams. But Cedar Bay will be a conflict of interest.”

“A conflict for whom, I wonder?” Her supervisor waved her to take her seat again. After a tense moment, he opened the file and read from it.

“Layhee, Trudeau, Drollette...” His voice droned on through the long list, each familiar last name making her pulse pound harder than the last. “...and Remillard,” he finished.

His sharp gaze met hers. “Recognize any of those?”

All of them, Jodi thought. “A few,” she said.

“Then that’s the in we need. We’ve been trying to take over this prime dairy land for years. Put all of our best men on it.” He pulled out his pocket-handkerchief and dabbed at his glistening forehead. “I mean, we put our best senior executives on it, but we haven’t made any headway as a result of some fellow by the name of—” he glanced down at the chart “—Daniel Gleason.”

Jodi wasn’t surprised. Of course Daniel would be behind the resistance to Midland’s buyout. His family had farmed in Cedar Bay for centuries, and if anyone could hold out against her corporation, it’d be charming, clever, stubborn Daniel.

“Says here he’s twenty-seven. That’s your age.” Mr. Williams peered at her through his thick lenses. “A friend of yours?”

“Hardly.” Irritation rose as she recalled how often her popular ex-classmate had bested her throughout their childhood, from being the first to cross the monkey bars to edging her out as valedictorian. Then there was that moment of weakness when she’d nearly fallen for him. “The opposite, actually.”

Mr. Williams grunted, then nodded at a painting of the company’s former CEO. “I was once a junior exec like you, Jodi. But my mentor taught me the secret to moving up in life. Know your enemy. This Gleason fellow’s our enemy. Who better to make our case than someone who knows him well? Plus, you can take your son with you. Stay at your aunt’s for a couple of months and get Tyler out of the city for the summer. Fresh air and all that. Once you’ve acquired five thousand acres, you’ll be back in time for the Bears preseason.”

Five thousand acres? The small hairs on the back of Jodi’s neck pricked. This was a large deal, a herculean task, even with her connections and a summer to accomplish it. And just how well had Mr. Williams gotten to know her talkative aunt? She always praised the benefits of country air in hopes of tempting Jodi out for a visit.

But Jodi remembered how unpredictable and dangerous farm country could be. It was the reason her parents had left town once Jodi finished her senior year in high school. As for why she hadn’t accepted her aunt’s offer to stay with her during college breaks, that story ended with a different kind of heartbreak.

More important than her tumultuous hometown history, however, Tyler did best with routines, things he knew and expected. She couldn’t imagine a worse place for him.

She cleared her throat.

“I haven’t spoken to Daniel Gleason in ten years, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t be of much help.” She edged toward the door. “If I may be excused, sir?”

Her employer intercepted her. “Jodi, I’ve seen your talent and ambition. In fact, you remind me of myself at your age. Look how quickly you wrapped things up in Idaho and every other deal we’ve given you. Succeed on this, and I’ll give you a promotion to midlevel executive.”

Jodi gripped the doorknob, afraid her weak knees would give out. Midlevel? Even her fellow junior executive, ambitious Brady Grayson, couldn’t hope for such a steep corporate climb at their age. Her mind ran over the numbers that came with the promotion’s raise, seeing that Wonders Primary would be in reach. Almost. If her ex’s lawsuit failed, it might work.

“And of course there’d be a closing bonus of, say, five thousand.” Her boss waved the folder beneath her nose like a matador.

Jodi blinked at him, disbelieving. Suddenly her dreams were within her grasp, the chance to provide the care her son needed, a brass ring at her fingertips. She wasn’t going to fail after all.

“Fine.” Mr. Williams sighed at her extended silence. “How about eight thousand? But that’s my best offer, Jodi.” Mr. Williams raked his fingers through his hair wisps. “You drive a hard bargain. Do we have a deal?”

She nodded and felt her palm pumped up and down. A tide of joy rolled through her before unease dragged it away. Going home meant returning to a place—and a person—she’d vowed to forget.

CHAPTER TWO

A WEEK LATER, at Burlington International Airport, Daniel Gleason shifted in his work boots and peered up at the arrival and departure board. Jodi’s Chicago flight was on time, meaning it must be landing. Any minute now and she’d stride through the terminal gate and back into his life. A foreboding feeling settled in his gut. Would her local roots make the community trust her more than the other Midland suits? Sell their farmland to her? Worse, would seeing her rekindle his old feelings? He gulped back that bitter thought.

“Yep,” a farmer beside him murmured. “The corn should be a foot taller by now.” The man pulled off a John Deere cap and scratched his bald head. “Rain better slow up soon.”

“Every path’s got a few puddles,” Daniel quoted absently, his mind focused more on the appearance of his lovely—and cunning—childhood competitor. The woman who’d walked out on their relationship ten years ago without a word.

“Heard you had some kind of socialist plan to get us out of this mess, Gleason.” His neighbor’s eyes slid Daniels’s way.

Daniel waited a beat, then gave the man a reassuring smile. “A co-op isn’t socialist,” he said evenly. “It’s practical. If we produce organic products from humanely treated animals, we’ll get a higher price per pound of milk. It’s our best strategy for making it through this economy, and the weather. But we can’t apply for the upgrades grant unless we form the co-op.”

The farmer spat chewing tobacco into a handkerchief. “Still sounds socialist. And I didn’t fight in Vietnam to go commie now.”

“But—”

A voice announced a disembarking plane, interrupting Daniel.

“That’s my wife.” The vet clapped a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Look, kid. I served with your dad and I know you’re trying to keep his farm going since he can’t. But we’ve got to look at more realistic solutions. We’ll talk more at the next town council meeting.”

It’s my farm, too, Daniel wanted to interject, though he knew better than to be disrespectful. Patience and persistence would win his neighbors to his cause. And losing was not an option. Like his ancestors, he valued a life shaped by his own hands and the independence that came with it. He’d protect his farming community’s traditions, no matter the odds or the adversary. His pulse stuttered. Even if it was Jodi.

“Now disembarking, Flight 152 from Chicago, Gate A,” a boarding agent announced into a microphone. Passengers streamed by her podium and Daniel stepped forward, his heart beating out a forgotten rhythm.

Then he spotted golden hair...and there she was, Jodi, more beautiful than he remembered. Thinner, the youthful roundness of her face replaced by finer contours of jaw and cheekbones, dressed up in a yellow tank top and a flowered skirt instead of the jeans he was used to, her waves smoothed straight. But she was still the gorgeous girl next door. His breath caught at the vision she made as her hair flowed around her face while she secured a struggling child in a stroller.

Tyler. Grace had filled him in on Jodi’s son and divorce when he’d offered to pick her up at the airport. It was part of his “keep your friends close and enemies closer” strategy. He didn’t have to worry about the “know your enemy” tactic, however. Every one of his earliest memories included Jodi—some of the best and a few of the worst.

“Daniel?”

Jodi’s large blue eyes peered from him to the handwritten sign he held and she frowned as she read it, her lips silently forming the words Jodi Lynn. He forced his eyes from her full mouth, the sight doing something funny to his heart until he caught himself. Those feelings were from a lifetime ago. One he had no intention of reliving.

“What are you doing here? And I don’t go by Jodi Lynn anymore. Please put that sign away.”

He lowered it. “I wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me. You’ve been gone awhile.” Despite his efforts, it sounded accusing and he hurried to continue. “And Grace had a DAR meeting, so I offered to pick you up.”

She peered up at signs bearing the taxi symbol. “Thanks, but I can manage on my own.” Her son began to cry, his voice sounding hoarse, as if he’d been doing it for hours. Maybe he had, poor kid. Grace had mentioned the boy was autistic and that keeping him calm in new situations could be a challenge.

Daniel took her carry-on so that she could attend to her child. “Jodi. Face it, you’ve got your hands full and your aunt wanted me to help you.” After he’d convinced Grace not to miss her meeting, he added to himself. He needed to know what Jodi planned.

She sighed, although it was hard to tell if the frustrated sound was aimed at him or the plastic-framed glasses her son flung into the crowd.

A man in a business suit stopped short and spilled his coffee down his shirt. He snatched up the eye gear by its band and advanced their way, his scowl directed at Jodi until Daniel stepped in his path.

He forced an easy smile and held out a hand. “Thanks for that. Wouldn’t want a child to lose his glasses.”

The traveler opened and closed his mouth like the bass Daniel had hooked last Sunday.

He nodded toward a row of boarding-pass kiosks. “Looks like you’d better get going since you’re in such a rush.”

When the man scurried away, his tie flapping over his shoulder, Jodi turned to Daniel. “You didn’t have to do that.” She straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. “I can fight my own battles.”

He didn’t want to suggest that it looked like her hands were already full with her cranky preschooler, but that was the reason he’d stepped in.

He passed Jodi the glasses. “Like the one you’re fighting for Midland Corp.” He figured it was safer to put this conversation on professional grounds right off the bat. “Or is it more personal than that?”

Jodi’s face remained neutral and he wondered if she felt guilty for coming home to sell out her former neighbors. It was one thing for her parents to lose their farm. Another matter for a community to lose its way of life. He wouldn’t let her get away with it.

“This isn’t personal, Daniel,” she said at last, her voice muffled as she bent over her son and pulled the glasses over his head. “It’s business.”

His jaw tightened. “It involves people’s lives, so I’d say it’s personal.”

“Baggage for Flight 152 now unloading on Carousel C,” the overhead announcer blared.

When she spoke, Jodi sounded cool and matter-of-fact. A stranger’s voice. “Let’s table that if you don’t mind. Now, if you’re my chauffeur, we should get my bags. Oh, and this is my son, Tyler.”

Amazing how much the child resembled his mother. “Hey, Tyler.”

But the boy ignored him and gnawed on his stuffed elephant’s ear. The kid looked stressed.

“Let’s get your luggage.”

Jodi rolled her stroller toward a moving conveyer belt sweeping dusty bags in a circle. “Once I’ve gotten the farmers to sell, those suitcases will be on the next flight. Promise.” She pointed to a pair of large, plastic-encased bags and wheeled her son back from the jostling crowd.

He didn’t doubt it. She’d done it before and it’d nearly broken him.

After hefting them off the moving track, he caught up to her. “That’s a lot of baggage for someone who’s not staying long.”

“I’m planning on staying until I get the job done.” She gave him a level stare. “Except losing.”

The luggage wheels clicked as he rolled the bags toward the exit, his mind working just as fast. “You did a lot of that before you moved away.”

“Emphasis on the word before.” She stopped the stroller and crouched in front of Tyler, her hands on his kicking legs. “I’m not the same girl who fell for your games, Daniel.”

“Maybe we’ve both learned some new tricks.”

She straightened and stepped so close that he took an involuntary step back. “I conduct multimillion dollar deals while you...” Her voice trailed off as she looked from his mud-spattered boots to his faded plaid shirt.

“Earn an honest living.” He adjusted his Red Sox cap. “You get your hands a lot dirtier than I do.” Before her family’s tragedy, she’d been proud to be a 4-H girl and farmer’s daughter. Now she acted as if this life was beneath her.

Where had the girl gone who’d swung out on a rope over Cedar Bay farther than anyone, the young woman who’d walked the ridgeline of a barn on a dare and had raided Mrs. Tate’s berry patches at midnight? The impulsive risk taker he’d known was replaced with a carefully controlled, polished version of herself. Yet he preferred her former warm glow to this reflective sheen that wouldn’t let him see the real her. If that person existed anymore. Had she been this way all along? Was that the reason she’d left him?

The sliding doors opened with a hiss and they stepped out into the cool midmorning drizzle. Daniel breathed in the smell of exhaust and couldn’t wait to get home, away from all this concrete. He needed to strategize. Regroup and think about how he’d handle this new, unflappable Jodi.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a measured look. “Where are you parked?” Her stroller’s plastic wheels swerved along the parking lot’s asphalt.

So she was letting his accusation go, her self-possession unnerving him. Gone was the girl whose passion had once swept him away from his everyday life, her white-hot temper later imploding it. How things had changed. At least the temporary cease-fire meant he could find out her plans. Stop them before she put them in place. For that matter, the drive home might soften her up with a tour down memory lane.

“I’ve got a ground-level spot,” he said, raising his voice so it’d be heard over a plane’s roar.

“Great. The sooner Tyler gets his nap the better.”

“Are you working right away or having some R & R first? I’ll show you some of the old sights.”

“I have to check in with my boss, then I plan to—” She stopped and shoved wet, frizzing hair from her face. “Why am I telling you this?” Her eyes roamed over him, mystified. Suddenly she looked like the girl he’d known years ago, the one who’d once worn her heart on her sleeve and had captured his.

“Because we used to be friends, Jodi Lynn.”

“Friends?” She snorted and shook off the water collecting on the stroller’s canopy. “And don’t call me Jodi Lynn.”

“Would you prefer ‘ma’am’? Is that what country folks are supposed to say when a city girl comes to town?”

“Knock it off, Daniel.” She nudged him, and the warmth of her bare shoulder through his thin shirt nearly burned.

“That’s Mr. Gleason to you,” he joked to hide the response her touch ignited. Careful, he warned himself.

Jodi shot him a level look, then picked up speed when her son started to kick again, his voice sounding like a teakettle about to boil. No wonder. Daniel would scream, too, if he was strapped in when he could walk instead. Parking lots were unpredictable, but with a firm hand and a sharp eye the little guy could have had his freedom.

“So why are you here instead of one of my aunt’s neighbors?” she asked once they halted beside his muddy blue pickup. The misting rain had only streaked the dirt.

“We’re all neighbors, and neighbors help each other.” He tossed her expensive-looking suitcases into the open bed, an echoing thunk sounding when plastic met metal. “In case you forgot.”

“I haven’t. I’m helping my old hometown get a fair deal that will improve their lives.” She spoke without looking up at him, her movements practiced and efficient as she swept up her thrashing son and secured him in the child seat she’d detached from the stroller, buckling him into the center of the truck’s continuous front seat.

“If you want something, use your words, Tyler,” she told her son.

The boy screamed and pounded his fists against the dashboard, but Jodi slid in beside him, looking as if it was any other day. And for her, maybe it was.

Daniel felt his resistance weaken until he caught himself. Her “fair deal” would only benefit Midland, not her former community. They’d either have to abandon their land or become corporate drones, working for a Midland paycheck. No. Jodi was the enemy. No matter that she made him remember good times he’d rather forget.

If he couldn’t convince her that this was personal, not business, remind her of the good times she’d had here and the people she’d cared about, then he needed her gone before she wreaked havoc on his home and his heart.

She’d done the latter the last time she’d left town. He’d be a fool to let her do it again.

He wouldn’t let himself, or his town, fall for Jodi Lynn Chapman.

No, ma’am.

* * *

JODI CLOSED HER eyes and rested her head against the seat as the truck accelerated out of the airport parking lot. Of all people, why had Daniel been the one to meet her at the airport? The unwelcome surprise had rattled her to the bone. It’d taken every bit of control to act professionally around him when she’d wanted to bolt from the emotions he’d shaken loose. Besides, personal spats wouldn’t convince the local farmers to trust her professionalism.

But she and Daniel had been much more than enemies once....

Her eyes flew open at the unbidden thought and she peeked at Daniel’s profile. He’d matured in subtle ways over the past ten years. His square jaw and broad cheekbones had filled out, balancing his strong nose so that his masculine features looked handsomer than ever. His left-sided cowlick pulled dark hair from his prominent brow and framed hazel eyes fringed with thick lashes she’d always envied.

Her face heated and she lowered her lids again as the truck took a couple more turns. No. She wouldn’t let herself think of him that way. Not again. Not when she needed every bit of her focus on acquiring local farms, even Daniel’s. And how would she manage that magic trick?

Then again, how could she not? Besides Mr. Tisdale’s lakeside property, Daniel’s Maplewood Farm had the most land in the area. With her target set at five thousand acres, success was her only option.

Her chest burned when she recalled being served with Peter’s petition to lower child support payments yesterday. Despite everything, she still hadn’t believed he’d do it. And now, on top of battling for tuition to Wonders Primary, she’d need to hire a lawyer to fight him.

She held in the sigh that’d give her inner turmoil away. This was the most important deal in her career and she had to think strategically and rationally. Use the skills she’d learned from corporate wheeling and dealing in order to win when she needed it most. Emotion or doubt couldn’t cloud her judgment.

Her eyes slit open and flicked Daniel’s way. Nor could she let their former relationship influence her. She’d been betrayed by men in her life and she’d never forget that Daniel had been the first. Her index finger tapped against the window, punctuating the thought.

When the truck hit another pothole, her eyes opened and teeth rattled. She glanced through the mud droplets and instead of seeing the tree-lined edge of I-89, she saw the Pearsons’ stainless steel silo. The curved ladder they decorated with red-and-white light strips every December flashed by in a blur. Why had Daniel taken this slower, back-road route?

The answer came to her in waves of nostalgia.

A weakness.

He was testing her. Seeing if she missed the place. Felt sentimental. Hah. Tyler was the only one to whom she’d entrust her feelings again.

“I know what you’re doing and I don’t appreciate it.” She crossed her ankles against the dusty floor mat and tried to blot out the memory of visiting the Pearsons’ enormous lit candy cane; it had been a Christmas season tradition.

Daniel shot her a sideways glance, then said, “If you look over there, Tyler, you’ll see Field Stone Farm.”

Tyler continued pulling Ollie’s tail, the hand stitches she’d used to reattach it last week nearly pulling free.

“I beat your mother at a stone-carrying challenge there. Hope she’s still not holding that against me since I shared the prize with her—one of Mrs. Willette’s raspberry cobblers.” Daniel’s vivid eyes sparkled when they met hers, the green-and-yellow kaleidoscope of color drawing her in until she shook her head and looked away.

“I hardly remember those times, so there’s no grudge.” Jodi shifted uncomfortably as she recalled too much.

Tyler jerked when Daniel ruffled his hair. “Guess that means your mother’s become the forgiving type.”

“I’ve moved on and so should you,” she muttered as she pulled out her smartphone and read an email from her boss to call him. “And would you please go a bit faster. I have to—”

“The speed limit here is thirty-five. Besides—” Daniel shrugged his broad shoulders “—I’m showing Tyler where he comes from. If you have your way, he’ll never have this chance again.”

Jodi tamped down her sudden spike of anger. “He’s from Chicago, not Cedar Bay.” She passed Tyler a Fruit Roll-Up snack, then sighed when her son flung it away. He really was hungry.

“There’ve been Chapmans here for over three hundred years.”

“His last name is Mitchem. I changed my name back after the divorce.”

Daniel shot her a speculative glance then continued. “Your last name might be different, Tyler, but you’re still part of a large family that goes back generations.” Daniel drummed along with the Eagles tune “Take It Easy,” which was ironic. She noted his empty ring finger as it beat against the wheel, then chided herself for looking. What difference did his marital status make?

When the song ended, he pulled a bag of raspberries out of a dashboard pocket and passed it to Tyler. No! She lunged, too late, as Tyler squealed when he crushed them, the crimson color bleeding through his tiny fingers. Jodi’s shoulders slumped and she reached for a Handi Wipe. What a sticky mess.

“May I have one?” Daniel held out a large hand in front of Tyler. Her heart squeezed when her son struggled, then plucked a berry from the bag. He would have won a gold star for that in physical therapy.

“Thank you, Ty.” Daniel’s white teeth flashed against the tanned skin of his face and her breath caught when his crescent moon dimples appeared. She forced her attention away and dabbed at the sticky berry juice dribbling down her son’s face. “Careful, you’ll choke,” she warned as Tyler shoved in another handful.

Her son stopped chewing, but didn’t look up. For Tyler, that was the most attention anyone could expect when he got fixed on something he really liked.

“Glad you’re enjoying the treat, Tyler,” Daniel said before continuing the kind of chatter that charmed everyone. “I had to ask my neighbor Mrs. Tate for some since the birds had eaten all of mine. You remember going berry picking on Blueberry Hill, Jodi Lynn, right?”

Their eyes caught and held over her son’s head, a memory of their first kiss, berry flavored and full of sunshine, bursting in her brain. She stared at his mouth and turned away when it curved into a knowing grin. Her teeth ground together. He was trying to get under her skin and she’d be darned if she let him.

“Did Grace tell you that she got elected state regent of the Daughters of the American Revolution?”

“Yes. She told me. In fact, she keeps me up-to-date on all of the local news.” Jodi crossed her fingers at the white lie. But she didn’t want Daniel to think she had a special reason to avoid hearing about her hometown. Like a broken heart that had never fully healed....

“Is keeping tabs on your acquisitions part of your job description?” His dark lashes cast shadows over his eyes, but she detected sarcasm in his voice.

“Half of all New England farmers hold full-time jobs off the farm, then return home to farm,” Jodi quoted from a survey she’d read recently. “The rest are full-time farmers. Their work extends year-round. Two-thirds of the farmers are fifty years of age or older. One-third are sixty years of age or older. Only a few farmers receive help from their adult children, and most farmers have difficulty finding farm labor, so many farms are kept to a size that the family can manage alone.” She rolled down her window and let the warm, early-summer air flow over her. “Looks like the berries aren’t the only thing ripe for the picking.”

Daniel whistled long and low, making Tyler cup his hands over his ears. “So you think Cedar Bay’s in a crisis.”

Jodi tugged Tyler’s hands away and danced Ollie across his lap. “Fortunately, I’m here to help so that no one becomes a charity case.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him wince.

“I never called you that,” he said quietly.

“But you believed it.”

Jodi remembered overhearing him agree with teenage friends who’d called her a charity case. He’d been unable to deny those feelings when she’d confronted him. Although it’d happened the summer she’d worked on Daniel’s farm to pay for her father’s medical bills, the memory still burned bright. She’d been falling for Daniel and hadn’t seen the truth, had trusted him when he’d suggested keeping their relationship quiet until things settled down with her family. Her father’s emotional distress and slow recovery meant her mother’s every waking moment was spent caring for him. They didn’t need any extra distractions or worries. But when Daniel had admitted that he pitied her, she’d realized the horrible truth.

He’d only dated her because he felt sorry for her—a fact he hadn’t denied when she’d accused him.

So when her parents had moved to Arizona, she’d left a week early for college without warning him. What could she have said that wouldn’t have caused more hurt? Their original plan had been to maintain their relationship and see each other during college breaks. Instead, she’d vowed to never return home again. Until now... She’d reacted impulsively, she realized, looking back. But there was no sense in wishing for a chance to make things right. Especially not with both of them on opposite sides of this battle.

Besides, those were the feelings of an adolescent girl crushed by her failed first love. Not the woman she was today. Not even close.

“You said this wasn’t personal.” The timbre of his voice deepened.

She shrugged tense shoulders. “It’s not.” Not in the way he meant anyway. This was for Tyler, not revenge on an ex-boyfriend.

“Then it’s for the bonus.”

“That’s none of your business.” Heat flared along her upper chest and crept up her neck. She needed that payment for Tyler.

“Fine. You win.” He sent her a sideways glance. “This time.”

She unclenched her hands when Daniel clicked off his windshield wipers. The rain ceased its steady drum and sunshine splashed down where clouds broke apart and moved off, revealing patches of blue. She squinted out the window and breathed deeply. She had nothing to feel guilty about.

Until they rounded a corner.

“And this is where your mother used to live growing up.”

Tyler kept eating and Jodi averted her eyes. She didn’t want to see the scene of her father’s accident.

“The next side road’s a shortcut to Aunt Grace’s house,” she said through shaking lips. “Could we take that, please?”

“But you’ll miss seeing Deep Meadows Farm. Remember the daisy chains we used to make?”

“Take us home, Daniel,” she ordered, voice thick. She clasped her trembling hands in her lap, recalling the dash to the hospital ten years ago, and her remorse for not being there to help with the skid loader borrowed from Daniel’s father.

“But, Jodi Lynn, you are home.” Daniel’s insistent tone softened.

“Home is Chicago.” Jodi said it to remind herself as much as Daniel. “I meant to my aunt Grace’s house. The tour’s over.”

Her voice was harsher than she intended and Tyler flapped his hands. He rocked forward in his seat and made a keening sound that pierced her heart.

“Tyler, I’m sorry,” she crooned, regret filling her. “We’ll be home soon and you can take a nap.” She wedged his stuffed animal beneath his seat belt. “Ollie’s tired, too.” She tried pressing on his shoulders the way the therapist had showed her to calm him, but couldn’t get the right angle.

Daniel turned off the radio and flicked his blinker on at the side road.

“No,” she protested when Tyler’s protests escalated to full-out screams. “Some noise is good. Do you have anything classical?” A familiar weeping willow flashed by along with a clearing that contained two grazing dapple-grays. Good. Getting closer now.

“Just 102.9.”

But when he tuned into the local channel, they were running through sports news, the announcer’s high-pitched voice making Tyler’s legs beat against the seat, his small hands covering his ears.

Familiar panic set in. The juice box she offered Tyler wound up on the floor beside the Fruit Roll-Up. The back of her neck grew damp and her eyelid twitched.

She knew she shouldn’t feel ashamed of her difficulty in controlling Tyler’s outbursts, but she did. It felt as if a marquee sign appeared over her head flashing Bad Mother...Bad Mother.... And the disapproving looks she got in restaurants or checkout lines confirmed the fact that, yes, she was being judged and found wanting.

How would they have handled this at Wonders Primary? She pictured the brightly colored toys and equipment in the well-lit, open space, the smiling, patient therapists who played on their knees with the children. There this tantrum might never have occurred.

This was exactly why she needed to succeed and head home as soon as possible. She wasn’t what was best for Tyler. They were. And the thought made her want to cry along with her son.

A few minutes later, Aunt Grace’s cedar-shingled house appeared through a row of blue spruce. Behind the tidy one-story, the deep navy of Lake Champlain shimmered. Tyler let out a piercing scream when they bounced to a halt.

“It’s okay, Tyler. We’re here,” she murmured as her hands struggled with the child seat restraints across his stomach. Her fingers tingled when Daniel brushed them aside. In one snap, he freed her son, lifted him out of the truck and carried him to the front porch steps.

Jodi freed the car seat, grabbed it and her purse and followed until a familiar voice stopped her.

“Welcome home!”

She whirled and sagged into Aunt Grace’s outstretched arms, her face buried in her familiar, lilac-scented shoulders. Or maybe the scent came from the purple, white and pink blossoms in the basket she carried. Either way, the smell made something inside her loosen.

“It’s so good to see you.” She stepped back at last and admired Aunt Grace’s soft pink blouse and gray slacks.

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Jodi.” Her aunt’s brown eyes, set behind skin folds and creases, were still as piercing as ever. “Wish you’d come home under better circumstances.”

“A visit with you is the best circumstance.” And it was.

“I agree. If only your parents would come back from Arizona, too.” Aunt Grace wrapped an arm around her and led her toward the garden beds surrounding her porch. “How are you, Daniel? Would you like to come inside for some tea?”

“I think Jodi’s had enough of me, Grace, but thanks.” His eyes lingered on Jodi’s for a long minute before he headed back to the truck, his movements easy and athletic.

No sooner had he grabbed their suitcases than he dropped them again to lunge after a bolting Tyler. A tern, Tyler’s target, squawked and flew from Aunt Grace’s dock directly behind her small house.

Jodi clutched her chest, grabbing the locket containing Tyler’s baby picture, her heart beating like the frantic bird’s wings. If not for Daniel’s lightning reflexes, Tyler might have ended up in the water, or worse, on the rocks that flashed just above the surface before the lake bed dropped off. She’d been so fixed on watching Daniel that she’d missed her son’s dash. Her “Bad Mother” marquee flashed on again.

“Daniel, thank you,” she said when he deposited Tyler in her arms. Her son kicked and protested until Grace offered him a cookie and led him inside.

Daniel’s face creased. “No need to thank me. It’s what neighbors do, Jodi. Help each other.”

And just like that her gratitude dissolved into irritation. She pushed back the strands a lake breeze blew in her face.

“Neighbors in cities support one another, too. My neighbor has been taking care of Tyler until—”

Daniel’s biceps flexed as he carried her suitcases and placed them at her feet. “Until...?”

Her hands curled. Why did she forget herself so often around him? “Until he starts day care.” There. It was the truth without saying anything that would connect it to her real reason for being here. Daniel needed to see her as a strong opponent, not a mother who was struggling to provide for her child.

He stared intently at her, then passed her a small bag. “You’ll be glad to go back soon. Even if it is empty-handed.”

“I agree with half that statement.” Daniel had charm and contacts, but she had the drive of needing something badly.

Daniel hopped up on his running board. “Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a matter of agreeing or disagreeing. We’re not playing on the same team anymore.”

“Have we ever?”

Their eyes locked for a breathless moment, both recalling when they had.

“This is different.”

He studied her for a long minute, then waved before sliding inside. “I know.”

As he began backing out of her aunt’s driveway, his eyes on her, she heard him shout, “This is war!”

CHAPTER THREE

AND WAR IT was, regardless of the fact that Jodi had been on his mind nonstop during his afternoon chores, his ever-present retriever, Goldie, at his heels. He could fool himself. Think he was strategizing. But the truth was he kept picturing the smile she’d given him when he’d rescued Tyler. And the way her blue eyes had warmed to him—even for a short while.

He cranked off the engine on his feed blower, stepped out and pulled off his hat, letting the fans sweep his damp hair away from his forehead. Who was he kidding fantasizing about Jodi? Their short-lived relationship had left scars. She’d been right to accuse him of pitying her. He had felt bad about what’d happened to her family. It was the reason he’d put a stop to their rivalry and started being nice to her.

But when their truce had turned to romance, it’d been hard to separate those feelings. To know where one emotion ended and the other began. When she’d asked him if he’d dated her out of pity, he’d struggled to express himself clearly.

Looking back, he understood that he hadn’t been mature enough to handle the situation. It’d been complicated, and she’d run off, quit, before he’d figured out how to explain without offending her or revealing his own family’s secrets.

Her father’s accident had left Daniel’s family in a bad place financially. Replacing the skid loader her father had broken had pushed Daniel’s cash-strapped family over the edge. That was the real reason he’d convinced her to keep their romance a secret—he didn’t want to give his parents another excuse to argue. After all, she’d been the source of his family’s strain. He rubbed the back of his tense neck. But that was a long time ago; they weren’t teenagers anymore.

In fact, like Jodi, he’d moved on. He had dated other women, although none as seriously. He had too many things to focus on before settling down, his updated farm being one of them. He looked on with pride at the orderly rows of newly widened stalls. Brown jersey cows stuck out their heads and nipped at his homegrown organic silage, their lowing filling the barn. Besides sunrise, this was his favorite time of the day, when the last of his herd had exited the mechanized, circular milking parlor and returned to stalls heaped with sweet straw bedding, their eyes drooping from a long day at pasture, many on their knees already.

“All set there, Daniel?” A gawky young man waved at him from farther down the center aisle. His hired hand was a decent guy who mostly kept to himself. Hopefully, this one would last out a full year. Colton was one of the best workers he’d found in a while.

“Pretty much. I’m about to head up. Are you coming for supper?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ve got to set the timer on the mister and change out of these.” He plucked at his tan coveralls.

“Sounds good. We’ll hold the meal for you.”

A striped barn cat wound its way through Daniel’s legs and touched noses with a tail-wagging Goldie. Cat and dog. Natural enemies. Yet they’d found a way to get along. Would he and Jodi ever find that peace? He gritted his teeth. Only if she saw the light—like the mellow gold shafts striping the sawdust-covered floors. No business office could compete with this. It was majestic.

And Jodi shared that quality. It had made her his fiercest enemy growing up, and the subject of many boyhood dreams—one of which had briefly come true. He paused to look at a mound of hay in the same place as the one where they’d kissed ten years ago. It was a memory best forgotten, especially now that they were locked in this “winner take all” battle.

If she had her way, his jerseys wouldn’t be brushed nightly, given hours of outdoor time or slipped a carrot when they looked a little off, because yes, despite having three hundred head, he knew them all that well. Had birthed them and named them himself. They were a family of sorts and he never could look at them as pure dollar signs.

He slopped milk into a trough left out for the cats. The orange tabby had already been joined by three calicoes, a gray short hair, a tailless Manx, and a rag-doll cat he couldn’t resist picking up and letting flop across his forearm. He rubbed its belly fast before its claws came out, then put it down where it shoved its way into the growing crowd. He noticed a Persian hanging back. Huh. He’d never seen it before. Must have been another midnight drop-off from a regretful pet owner.

The skittish cat raced from him as he approached, but in minutes he had it cornered and in a pet carrier. He strode up the small knoll to his gray, plank-sided, two-story farmhouse where the smell of pot roast and onions made his stomach growl. For a moment he imagined what it’d be like to have Jodi there, waiting for him, but shook off the foolish thought. As soon as she left town, she’d disappear for another ten years, maybe forever.

Feeling hollow, he trudged up the back porch steps, which badly needed a coat of paint, and pulled open the screen door. He shrugged off his plaid overshirt and stepped inside the narrow hallway lined with framed pictures of his ancestors, their smiles absent, but their eyes content. He grinned at his grandfather’s 1957 tractors calendar, glad they’d never had the heart to take it down.

“Sue!”

His sister appeared in the door frame, her glasses askew on her narrow nose, her short dark hair standing up in odd places.

“Tell me you didn’t fall asleep and forget to turn off the oven.”

Her hazel eyes widened and she tugged at the collar of a top she’d probably crocheted herself. “I’m sorry, Daniel. You know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

He passed her the pet carrier. “Did you start the water on the potatoes?”

“Ten minutes ago.” She peered into the plastic container. “Who’s this rapscallion? Don’t remember seeing it around.”

He glanced up at the worn edge of the Scrabble box perched on the hall-closet shelf and whistled. Last weekend, their traditional Saturday night game had ended after three hours and a few words that weren’t allowed on the board.

“Nice word. A fifteen pointer. As for this guy, he looks like another drop-off. Thought you might bring him to the vet tomorrow. Get him checked out, shots, neutered...you know.”

His sister heaved a sigh and poked a finger in the cage to stroke the cowering feline’s nose. “Oh, I know. We’re practically an animal dumping ground.”

“It’s not just us, Sue.” He sniffed and calculated. He’d put the beef in the roaster when he got back from picking up Jodi, so it was probably burned on the bottom. And the potatoes he’d peeled would still be as hard as rocks. Another typical Gleason meal. “I’m going up to shower but I’ll be down in ten to help finish.”

His sister gave him a small salute and took the pet container. “Will do, Cap-i-tan.” It was their inside joke from the days he’d earned enough badges to move on from Eagle to Life scout. “Oh, and is, uh...Colton joining us?” The toe of her flip-flop circled the rag rug in front of her.

“Yes.” He kept his face neutral at her less-than-subtle crush on his employee and raced upstairs. After a quick shower he was back in the warm kitchen. He kissed his sister on the cheek as she stood by the stove, wearing his mother’s old green-checked apron. Steam rose from the potatoes she whipped and turned her face a bright hue—that and a lounging Colton sipping coffee at the table.

“Smells good, sis. Hey, Colton.”

The farmhand looked up from the sports section, his work coveralls replaced with a T-shirt and jeans. “Looks like the Hawks won again. They’re moving on to the state finals. Sure wish I could go.” When he took off his Hawks cap and studied the emblem, his light brown hair lay flat against his skull and curled beneath his ears.

“When is it?” Daniel asked.

“Next Thursday. But I can’t bike to Rutland and back. The game starts at three.”

A spoon clattered to their red-tiled floor. “I could drive you.” Sue spoke without looking up as she grabbed the utensil. “I mean. You could use my car. Or I could come and you could drive, or—”

Time to leave before his sister’s nervous flirting made him chuckle out loud. He headed for the double parlor at the front of the house.

“Hi, Pop.” Daniel stopped and let his eyes adjust to the sight of his frail, trembling father seated in a rocking chair, an afghan of Sue’s design across his lap. It was hard to reconcile the image with what he remembered—his hearty father overflowing the chair, two kids and a dog on his lap, his mother laughing at all of them.

But that was a lifetime ago. Or at least it felt like it.

“Supper’s ready. Susie made a roast.”

His father lifted his chin and sniffed. “Smells like she burned it again.”

Daniel unfolded the walker in front of Pop’s chair and helped him to his feet. “We’ll cut off that end.”

His dad laughed, a faint sound that ended with a coughing fit. “We always do,” he wheezed out.

Step by step they made it to the kitchen.

“Smells good, darlin’.” His father lifted a shaking hand to Colton and lowered himself into the chair Daniel held out.

“Thanks, Pop. I think everything’s on. Who wants to say grace?”

“Good potatoes. Good meat. Good God, let’s eat.”

Everyone laughed at Colton and started passing the heaped dishes of mashed potatoes, sliced pot roast, bread, sweet pickles and boiled turnip—or microwaved, Daniel supposed, given Sue’s last-minute rush. Even so, it all looked great.

“So I ordered that wind turbine today, Pop.” Daniel scooped some potato onto his father’s plate, waited for a nod then piled on more. “Between that and the solar panels, we should be set for power this winter.”

His father nodded. “It’s a good thing to be independent. Never regretted a dime on educating you and your sister. Though I wished you’d done something else with your life.” He looked away, as he always did, when Sue reached over to cut his meat.

“I saved the farm from bankruptcy. That’s doing something.” Daniel kept the heat out of his voice, despite his words. Pop meant well and wished his worsening Parkinson’s hadn’t forced Daniel to take over the farm after college. Daniel would have chosen to return anyway. It’d just happened sooner than he’d planned.

“Bud Layhee stopped by today,” Pop continued, scooping some potato with a shaking hand. “Says his son Ted can’t keep the farm going with milk prices where they’re at. They’re borrowing thirty thousand dollars a month and he might have to sell out and put Bud in a nursing home.”

His father’s fearful tone made Daniel’s fingers tighten on his fork. Wouldn’t Jodi pounce on that news? “That’s not going to happen, Pop.”

Not on his watch. He’d known the weather was making more than a few farmers skittish. If Jodi got hold of some of the financially weaker ones, they might give into the pressure and sell out. Things were worse than he’d thought if a tough, retired old farmer like Bud would share that kind of news. Daniel needed to put his co-op plans in motion faster than he’d intended and send Jodi on her way before she did more damage than the relentless rain.

“Colton, would you like more roast?” Sue smiled warmly and passed more beef over Daniel’s empty plate.

“So are you still going to Princeton?” Colton spoke through a mouthful of beef, then took a long drink of foamy milk, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Sue twisted her cloth napkin.

“No.”

“Yes.”

She and Daniel spoke at the same time and looked at each other. “Sue. You’re staying at Princeton until you finish your Ph.D.” He kept his voice low and eyed his father’s bent head. As far as his father knew, Sue was on break.

“You stopped at an MBA,” she hissed for his ears only. “So why the grief? I’m already a certified psychologist.” She spooned more turnip on Colton’s plate.

“Because you’re not a quitter.”

“Mom was.”

A hush came over the table as all eyes fell on Pop. Luckily he was tinkering with his hearing aid and seemed to have missed the painful reminder.

“Sue. Stop.” Daniel forked a piece of beef and ladled more vegetables on top of a slice of bread.

“Oh, sure. Let’s not talk about the fact that she walked out on all of us. Couldn’t take farming. Hah. Couldn’t take us!”

“Enough, Sue.” Daniel’s glass banged on the table as he recalled the painful summer he’d lost his mother and Jodi. When his father looked up, Daniel smiled for his confused-looking dad’s benefit. “Got the fly! Hey. What’s for dessert?”

“Strawberries and pound cake.” Sue crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, her eyes on Daniel. “Heard Jodi Chapman’s in town.”

“Jodi Chapman?” His father sat up straighter, his eyes sparkling. “No one said she was home. Now, that’s a sweet girl. Remember how hard she worked in the barns after her father’s accident? A spirited little thing. Is she visiting soon?”

His pulse sped. “Not a chance, Pop.”

Sue sent him a warning look.

“I mean, I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’ll have to invite her. I know she’d want to see me.” His father pointed his turnip-laden fork at himself, then lifted it to his mouth and got his cheek instead. Sue reached over to wipe him but he brushed her aside and did it himself.

Daniel held back a groan. He’d bet Jodi would love to visit his father. Him and all the other farmers around town. And they’d welcome her, their reactions just like Pop’s. His unease amped up another notch. He’d better nix whatever she planned pronto. If good guys like Bud Layhee could be turned out of their family’s homes, then this wasn’t just about a way of life anymore. It was about lives. Period.

“Will she be at your class reunion Friday night?” Sue asked.

“It’s your tenth, right? Wow, that’s old.” A confused look crossed Colton’s face at Sue’s sudden frown. She was four years older than the oblivious object of her affection.

“I’m guessing she won’t miss the chance to talk to some of the farmers attending. She’ll probably be there.” Daniel drained the last of his milk and wiped his mouth. “But not for long.”

* * *

THREE DAYS LATER, Jodi stood on her aunt’s back porch and hugged a quilt around her shoulders. The chill air was fresh with dewy promise and filled with birdcalls. It’d finally stopped raining and the rising sun changed Lake Champlain’s rippling surface from onyx to periwinkle, and then a deep navy studded with white caps that glittered in the growing light. She sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter. It really was beautiful here. She eyed the lake again. As long as you only looked at the surface.

A door squeaked open and Aunt Grace joined her at the railing. “So did you miss your hometown?” She passed Jodi a cup of tea.

“No,” Jodi answered honestly. And she hadn’t. Since she’d left for college, she’d used the mental equivalent of a Magic Eraser and wiped her past clean. Yet somehow, Daniel had stayed with her. Her mouth quirked. Even his memory was stubborn.

Aunt Grace’s wire-rimmed glasses fogged when she sipped her tea. One of her curlers dangled over her ear. “Well. I’m glad you’re here, even if I wish you had a different reason.”

She sighed. “Aunt Grace, you know it’s the only way I can get the money for Tyler’s school.”

“We’ve got perfectly good schools here.”

Her hand covered her aunt’s and squeezed. “Not the kind that Tyler needs.” Her aunt meant well, but she was Tyler’s mother and knew best.

“I like this,” Jodi added after tasting the minty tea. “Peppermint Harvest?”

“Green Moroccan. Trader Mike’s is carrying it now.”

“Since when did Cedar Bay go international?” She couldn’t resist teasing her aunt, although the inclusion of foreign products at the local mom-and-pop store did surprise her. Yankees weren’t fond of change. Just look at Daniel. As the class valedictorian with a full ride to Cornell, he could have studied anything. Been anything. And what had he done? Gotten an MBA in agricultural economics and run right back to his farm. She took another sip of tea. Why did her thoughts so often turn to him?

Her aunt gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Stick around, honey. There’s a lot that’s changed. Not just you.”

She rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder. “And how have I changed?” It was clear that she had, but she wondered how people back home saw her. More confident. Self-assured. No longer an object of pity? And had Daniel noticed? Not that it should matter...but somehow it did.

A hand stroked the crown of her head. “Oh, honey. In lots of ways you’re still the sweet, generous girl you always were, but now there’s something a little—I don’t know—hard about you. And please don’t take that the wrong way.”

She pulled back, stung. “Hard as in strong or hard as in mean?” The former she’d be happy with but the latter...

Aunt Grace’s eye folds looked puffier than usual and she pulled a crumpled tissue out of the robe’s sleeve and blew her nose before answering.

“I don’t know, sweetie. It’s like Chicago put a coat of varnish on you that I wish I could strip away. Uncover your natural self.”

Jodi shook her head. Considering her aunt supplemented her deceased husband’s retirement by refinishing antique furniture, it wasn’t a bad analogy. It just didn’t apply to her.

She spread her arms. “Aunt Grace, this is the real me. I was never myself here.”

“It sure looked like you were enjoying those 4-H picnics, and no one’s beat your record for bobbing apples. Not even Jimmy Terry. With his teeth, we all thought he’d best you for sure.”

The competitor in her felt a flash of satisfaction, and then she remembered they were talking apples, whereas she’d closed multimillion-dollar deals. She’d definitely changed, and for the better. No matter what her aunt might be suggesting.

Aunt Grace lifted her tea mug while Jodi stared out at the red rowboat floating beside the dock. She remembered the gentle slide of the boat through Lake Champlain’s water and yearned for such a peaceful moment. How long since she’d done something just for herself?

“Do you still take it out?”

“When the arthritis isn’t acting up. Why don’t you go for a paddle? Take Tyler. You haven’t let him out of the house yet and everyone’s asking about him...and you.”

She glanced at the silent monitor perched on the porch railing. “He’s got allergies like you. Maybe when he’s better.” She gulped more of the minty brew and refused to imagine why she felt reluctant for the community to meet her son.

“Well, you should get out at least. You’ve been working all kinds of hours since you got here. Mailing out letters. Setting up meetings. Talking on your phone steady. I feel like we’ve hardly had time for a good visit. And I don’t think you’ve had a bit of fun.”

“I’m not here to have fun. The sooner I get this deal wrapped up, the sooner I can get Tyler home. The country isn’t good for him.”

“It isn’t good for him, or it isn’t good for you?” Aunt Grace’s eyes peered into hers, missing nothing.

Jodi glanced at the lake when a trill drifted in the morning air, the melancholy sound echoing her mood. A pair of loons swam past the dock, a small V rippling behind them. They were one of the bird species that mated for life. She’d once expected the same for her and Peter.

As if reading her thoughts, her aunt asked, “How’s Peter?”

“Suing to lower child support, actually.” The words poured out of her, unbidden. Why had she burdened her aunt with that?

Aunt Grace’s eyes sparked. “I don’t mind telling you, Jodi, I never liked the guy. How he wouldn’t accept Tyler’s autism diagnosis and acted ashamed of his own son. You both worked the same hours, but he didn’t lift a finger at home with Tyler’s treatment. It wasn’t right.”

Jodi sighed, remembering how hard she’d tried—but it’d never been enough, especially when she’d “spoiled” Tyler, according to Peter, with the extra attention required by his therapy plan and “wasted” her time in autism chat rooms and doing research.

“So he’s not going to help you pay for day care, then?”

She shook her head. “He won’t admit Tyler has autism.”

“Or visit him, either. And now he won’t even support his son. The man is despicable.”

Jodi agreed, though she wouldn’t voice her complaints. She shouldn’t have brought up the subject in the first place. He was still Tyler’s father.

“Tyler’s my priority now. There isn’t room to think about anything else.”

“Or anyone else.” Her aunt gently turned her by the shoulders so that they faced each other in the brightening light. “Listen, Jodi. Take it from me. Life is short, and while I understand that Tyler’s important, you’re important to me. Since Charlie and I couldn’t have any of our own, we’ve always thought of you as our kid, too.” Her tissue reappeared and she dabbed at her eyes. “I only want the best for you.”

Jodi caught her in a tight hug, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. It’d been a long time since she’d thought about herself, and it felt good to know her aunt cared. Since her mother had her hands full helping Jodi’s father with the post-traumatic stress disorder he’d developed after the accident, Jodi hadn’t burdened her mother with her problems. Their phone calls usually focused on lighter issues.

“Once I get Tyler settled and talking again, I promise I’ll get out more.”

But even as she said the words, she knew she never would. Her ex had accused her of caring more about her son than him, and maybe he’d had a point. When a child needed love and attention as much as Tyler, she couldn’t make room for anyone else in her life or her heart.

Aunt Grace smiled. “There’s my girl. And you can start tonight with your class reunion.”

She blinked. “My what?”

“Your ten-year class reunion. Didn’t you see your invite on the fridge? At least I think that’s where I put it. Anyway, it came here since they didn’t know your Chicago address. I was going to forward it until I heard you were coming.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I think I should stay home with Tyler.”

“I can watch him, and it’d be a great way to get out like you promised.” Her aunt rubbed Jodi’s arm. “See your old friends, maybe make some of the connections you’re fussing over for Midland.”

Her pulse sped at the thought of facing those who had called her a charity case and others who’d thought it. But those were adolescent insecurities, not the fears of a mature woman. She needed them to see her as a successful professional, someone they could trust and depend on to equitably handle the sale of their farms to Midland. Hopefully those old impressions hadn’t lingered.

Aunt Grace had a point. It would push her Midland plans along faster than waiting for next week’s town council meeting. Plus, she’d just been authorized to increase the offering price to a number they’d be crazy to refuse. But how to face all of them? See Daniel again?

A low snuffling cry crackled across the monitor. Tyler.

“I’d better go check on him.” Jodi took her aunt’s mug. “I’ll leave these in the sink. Oh, and, Aunt Grace?”

“Yes, honey?”

“If it’s not too much bother, would you mind looking for a copy of my old yearbook? I think I might have left it here.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I just want you to be happy.”

Tyler’s cry turned into a full-out wail and she hurried to the door. “Me, too, Aunt Grace. Me, too.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“GOOD TO SEE you, Melissa. How’s Rex doing? Any better?” Daniel ladled punch into a plastic cup as a DJ blasted another 90s hit. His ex-classmates filled the veterans’ hall with their excited chatter, scented candles on cloth-covered tables filling the muggy air with an evergreen aroma.

He peered around the tall woman and glanced at the empty doorway. When would Jodi arrive? Was she coming? He’d bet any money she wouldn’t miss this opportunity to talk up her company. And he’d do everything to stop her. After hearing about Bud Layhee, he was more resolved than ever.

“Turns out Rex picked up a tick, so we’ve got to treat him for Lyme disease,” the woman said, and moved aside to grab a napkin.

Daniel murmured something sympathetic, he was sure he did, but his attention was captured by the stunning blonde framed in the doorway. Wow. In a pink dress that showed off flawless skin and curves, she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

An artificial rose pulled back her curls on one side, the gold strands gleaming under the soft twinkle lights strewn around the long, rectangular hall.

He tossed back a cup of punch, handed over the ladle and strode toward her. Looking that way, she wouldn’t make it two steps inside without admirers surrounding her. He needed to head them off before she got her Midland hooks into them. He could speak from experience; farmer bachelors were a lonely crew. A beauty like Jodi was fresh milk to a barn cat. A hungry one at that.

He arrived just in time to hear her exclaim, “You’re still pregnant?” to a nearly full-term Pamela Bates.

The glowing woman’s complexion paled. “That was my first pregnancy—in high school. This is my fifth.”

Jodi leaned in and murmured, “Then I suppose money must be tight on the farm?”

He shook his head at the frowning blonde as Pamela stomped away. “You’re unscrupulous.”

“And you’re vexatious. Go away.” She craned her neck to look over his shoulder, but he moved closer and blocked her view. At this distance, he could smell her perfume—something floral, but not anything that grew around here. It flooded his senses.

“Having fun?” He forced a light tone to cover the effect her proximity had on him. It was the best he could manage when her skirt brushed against his pant leg as she twisted for a better view of the crowd.

“Daniel. I’ve got work to do. Would you mind?”

He sidestepped with her when she made to walk around him. “Don’t mind at all. In fact, I’ll help.” Keep your enemies close, he thought.

Jodi snorted. “Thanks, but I can manage on my own. What?”

“What?” Daniel blinked down at her.

“You’re staring. Knock it off.” With her hands on her softly curved hips, her blue eyes flashing, she was irresistible.

And right. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. A song from their senior prom played, something acoustic and slow. He took her hand, loving the delicate feel of her fingers, the silk of her palm in his. She was a siren. Why was he answering her call?

“Dance with me and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Hah,” she scoffed, and yanked her hand away. “I didn’t come here to dance, Daniel.” She pulled a yellow sticky note from the tiny purse that matched her dress and seemed to mouth the names written on it.

His eyes flew from the paper to Ted Layhee, one of the names she’d written down. Oh, heck no. The guy would be the first to sign up. He’d about said as much to his father, Bud.

“Let’s get you some punch, then.” He put a firm hand on her back and steered her through the crowd toward the drinks table. He could feel her toned back through the silky fabric of her dress and strove not to run his fingers up over her shoulder and bury them in that thick tangle of hair.

“Whatever game you’re playing, Daniel, it’s not going to work.” She took the punch and stared at the dancing, chattering throng over the rim of her cup. He followed her gaze and watched the former head cheerleader trying to rally her old squad into doing the Macarena, his old football buddies laughing and fist-pounding each other.

“Hey. I come in peace.” He forced his hand away and spread his arms wide. His eyes drank in the gentle cast of her features that glowed pink then orange in the revolving strobe light, her generous upper lip that begged to be nibbled on, her short, straight nose and her large, wide-spaced eyes.

“Said the big bad wolf.” She laughed, the throaty sound of it setting off alarm bells inside him. He knew he needed to leave her for his own sanity, but she’d only cause trouble on her own. Especially if she talked to Layhee.

“Evening, Daniel.” He tensed at the voice. Ted. “And if my eyes aren’t lying, this is Jodi Chapman. How are you, darlin’? You’re breaking my heart in that dress.”

“Oh.” She squinted at him for a moment, and then asked, “Ted?”

“That’s right! Knew you’d remember me from science class.”

“It was social.” Jodi’s eyes met Daniel’s over Ted’s shoulder and her mouth hitched up at the corners.

“Whatever.” Ted shrugged. “It was all the same to me. Hey, listen. I heard you were buying farms and wanted to talk.”

“Perfect.” She arched a triumphant brow at Daniel, Ted’s hand at her waist as he guided her away.

Daniel’s pulse picked up and he tugged at his tie. Not so fast, Ms. Jodi Lynn.

“Ted, isn’t your pickup the red 150 with the flame decal on the sides?” he called after them. Ted turned. “Because its lights are on. Meant to mention it earlier.”

“Darn. Had to give the batteries a jump just to get here.” Ted hurried off and Daniel unfurled his hands.

Jodi tapped her fingers on her hips and glared at him, her nose scrunching in a way that got his heart thudding.

“Was that the ‘help’ you mentioned earlier? Scaring off every person I talk to?” Jodi pulled her note out and scanned the list of names, her eyes lifting from it to the crowd and back again.

“I think you did a good job of that on your own with Pamela Bates. Plus, you should be glad I rescued you from Hands.” It had been Ted’s nickname in high school—earned for a reputation Jodi should keep in mind. “And who else is on that list?”

She turned her back, but he peered over her shoulder, the brush of her hair soft as satin against his jaw. He forced himself to focus and noticed a number written at the bottom of the list. That couldn’t be the price she was offering per acre.

He swallowed hard. With a number that high, who’d say no? This was worse than he’d imagined. Midland had put the best person on the job and armed her with an irresistible deal. He had to stop her. Now.

“Care to dance?” asked one of their classmates, a part-time crop duster and farmer, Frank Trudeau. Jodi smiled and Daniel recalled seeing Frank’s name on her list.

“Actually, I’d rather talk if you have a minute...Frank.”

Frank, one of his bowling team members, caught the small shake of Daniel’s head and took the hint.

“Uh, that’s okay. I was just looking for a dance.”

“Oh.” Jodi’s mouth turned down in disappointment. “Maybe another time.”

“How about a dance with me?” Ted reappeared, out of breath. “Came back as quick as I could before another fellow got you. Oh, and it turns out you had the wrong truck, Gleason.”

Jodi extended her hand. “I suppose this is the only way I’ll get to speak with anyone.”

Daniel paced as he watched her smiling and talking a mile a minute. Ted’s eyes looking unfocused; his hands drifted lower and lower until Daniel couldn’t take it anymore.

“Time’s up, Ted. She’s dancing the next one with me,” he grumbled when he reached them. He forced his face to relax when Ted immediately gave way.

“Of course, Daniel. If I’d known...”

“We have a conversation to continue, Ted. Remember? My offer?” Jodi asked, insistent.

But Daniel held Ted’s eye until he shuffled away.

“Later, Jodi,” Ted muttered.

“Phone me at my aunt Grace’s,” she called, her business card disappearing back into her purse. Her eyes leveled on Daniel. “There’s no reason to behave unprofessionally. And, despite what you said when you dropped us off, this is not a war. It’s business. Big difference.”

He looked down at her and shook his head, unable to resist tucking a strand behind her ear. “Keep telling yourself that.”

When the music switched up to something low and smooth, he pulled her in close, every inch of him aware of the feminine beauty he held in his arms.

“Regardless, he said he planned to sell and knew other farmers that would hear me out. Oh. And he liked my offer. See? Not personal.”

His body tensed as he looked around at the many people who had traveled less than a few miles to be here and at all of their community events. This was their hometown. Who’d be left if Jodi had her way? Pamela Bates? Frank Trudeau? He’d grown up with them. Had imagined them all farming and growing old together. Yet with one check, Jodi would destroy that future. Old men who’d fought to preserve their legacies for the next generation would finish their lives in nursing home corridors instead of on their farms’ front porches. It wasn’t right.

“Look around you.” He gestured at their classmates. “These are people, Jodi, so it’s personal. How can I get that through to you?”

“You can’t. This is a business transaction. Plain and simple.”

A spotlight stopped on them, blinding him before he could insist that it was the end of a way of life. He’d thought the old Jodi might still be reachable, but now he knew the truth. Another Midland suit stood before him. The only difference? She resembled someone he used to know.

“And now it’s time for a speech from our valedictorian,” boomed Frank. “Daniel Gleason.”

Raucous applause exploded around him and he reluctantly let go of Jodi’s hand and took his place on stage. When he looked out at the smiling, cheering audience, the group that had voted him class president, he knew what he had to do. With old men about to get turned out of their farms, and Jodi’s offer too good to turn down, desperate times called for desperate measures. Her refusal to consider others meant he’d run out of options.

He held up his hands until they hushed, and raised the microphone.

“Folks. Looking out at all of you, I see family, friends...Layhee.” He paused for the ripple of laughter to die down and Ted’s attention-getting protests to end. “I see a community of people I’ve known all my life, whose parents grew up together and their parents before them.”

Lots of smiles and nods erupted around the room as well as a few cups of punch raised his way.

Daniel yanked at his tie. It was hot under these bright lights, especially with Jodi’s narrowed eyes fixed on him. He gave her a look that he hoped expressed his silent apology for what he was about to do.

“Farming and family-run businesses have been a way of life in Cedar Bay since our ancestors struggled, sacrificed, fought and died to make the independence we enjoy today possible.”

“Hear! Hear!” someone hollered in the back. Bobby, another one of his bowling pals.

“Our teachers gave us extra time to turn in work during harvest or when we had to get the fields ready in the spring, but they understood—like the rest of our community—that we’re in this together, helping one another. We’re here for each other, whether it’s taking over someone’s milking to give another a vacation, bringing meals every day if someone’s ill, joining forces to repair and rebuild when tragedy strikes.” He avoided Jodi’s eyes. If he met them, he knew he wouldn’t have the heart to go on.

“And that doesn’t even take into account the good times like our potluck dinners overseen by Grace Chapman, Mary’s line dancing, hay-bale mazes at the Darbys’, the Winches’ sleigh rides, our tractor races and watermelon-eating contests and all the other things that go into making our daily challenges worth it.”

“I’m ready to line dance right now!” roared Ted, whose wandering hand moved toward Jodi before she shook it off. She was pale under the lights, her stare unwavering.

“We’ll get there, Ted.” Daniel shifted in his tight dress shoes. “I wanted to bring this up because this is the first time we’ve all been together since we accepted our diplomas and faced a future that, for many of us, was already a given. We knew we’d take the torch our farming families passed us and keep it safe.”

“We love you, Daniel!” shouted a female voice. By the set of Jodi’s face, it wasn’t hers.

“We’ve done a good job so far, weathering one of the worst economic times and coming through intact. Yet some would like to take advantage of the cracks in our foundation. Midland Corp, for instance.”

Several boos erupted in the audience and he saw Jodi flinch. He had to swallow over the lump clogging his throat and force himself to keep going.

“We’ve resisted their attempts to steal our livelihoods from us—our communities, our traditions, all that we have to pass down to our own kids. Yet they’ve devised an even more sinister plan than I could have imagined.”

He had the room’s full attention now. Many leaned in or stepped forward. You could have heard a pin drop.

“They’ve sent one of our own against us. Jodi Lynn Chapman.” He gestured toward her and while everyone turned to stare, no one clapped or smiled. In fact, many who had been cordial before now looked hostile. Guess word hadn’t reached everyone about her real purpose for coming home until now.

Jodi’s face turned bright enough to look sunburned.

“Let’s show her the door. That’s all the welcome she’s getting if she’s with Midland instead of us,” yelled someone from a shadowed corner.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, their angry babble rising until it drowned out his attempts to quiet them. He had more to say, but they weren’t listening. In fact, they’d turned their backs on him and were closing in on Jodi. Her face contorted and she pressed a napkin to it before pushing through the crowd and out the door, her rose hair clip loose and flopping on her shoulders.

He turned away from the microphone and muttered a word not for public hearing. After hopping off the stage, he shoved through the crowed in pursuit of her.

“Great speech, big guy.” One of his friends slapped him on the back.

Daniel nodded to the well-wishers who swarmed him, angry at himself for stirring this already boiling pot. Jodi’s motivations were wrong, and the sooner she realized it the better, but he’d underestimated the crowd and he owed her an apology. He’d wanted to get through to her, not drive her to her breaking point. The thought filled him with regret.

“Jodi!” He cupped his hands around his mouth and belted her name across the parking lot before she slipped inside her car.

“Leave me alone, Daniel.” Her keys fell from her shaking hands. “You’ve done enough.” She crouched down to search but ended up putting her fingers over her eyes, her shoulders quaking.

In a flash he was by her side, scooping up her keys and the flowered hair clip that’d fallen before pulling her upright. Her damp hair clung to her temples when he pushed it away from her face, and his hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jodi. I didn’t mean for it to turn that ugly.”

“Didn’t you?”

His stomach clenched. Hadn’t he? Yes. In a way. But he’d never imagined the aftermath would affect him this much. He had her on the ropes, but he felt as if he was the one down on the mat. Yet it’d always been that way between them. Each swinging until they couldn’t raise an arm, the wounds they inflicted staying long after the contest was over. His chest constricted when he recalled their squabbles over the years, from who’d win the blue ribbon for best pumpkin at the county fair to who’d win class president.

Even their temporary truce, called when they’d given in to their feelings, had ended badly. She’d disappeared from his life for ten years. And now she looked ready to quit again. It was what he wanted. So why, then, did he suddenly wish she’d stay?

He pressed his forehead to hers, but she jerked away. “Please believe me. I’m not out to get you. I meant it when I said this isn’t business, it’s personal. I’m fighting for my life. Mine and others’.”

Suddenly her face regained its composure. If anything, she looked stronger and more beautiful than ever. She took his breath away.

“So am I, Daniel,” she said after a long moment. “So am I.”

He started to ask her what she meant, whose life she fought for, but she held up a finger and the words dissolved on his tongue.

“You’re right. It isn’t just business. It’s personal. Like you said, this is war, and I’m in it for the long haul.”

And with that she grabbed her keys, unlocked her car and roared into the night, leaving him with thoughts and emotions as scrambled as the dust cloud she left behind.

Despite his turmoil, however, he grinned. The old Jodi was back. She drove him crazy, but he’d rather have a clean, honest fight with the firecracker he remembered than mince words with one of those polished suits he’d feared she’d become.

He stared down at the rose she’d left behind, then tossed it skyward. When it returned, he snatched it out of the air and tucked it into his pocket.

“Now, that’s my girl.”

CHAPTER FIVE

A DUCK CALL woke Jodi the next morning, her uneasy sleep clinging to her like the muggy air. She peered at the sunlight filtering in around the edges of the opaque window shade, then at her alarm clock.

It was 10:00 a.m.

She bolted upright, her quilted coverlet pooling in her lap. How could she have slept so late? Usually Tyler’s monitor sounded by six. But when she glanced at it, the light was off, the battery dead. She lunged to her feet and stumbled down the narrow hall lined with pictures of her father and Grace as kids and Grace’s wedding photo.

“Aunt Grace? Tyler?”

Her heart pounded as she peeked into Tyler’s room, then her aunt’s. Last night at the reunion, she’d broken down and admitted to Daniel that her fight wasn’t business. What he didn’t know was that her personal reason for returning to Cedar Bay was Tyler. Yet how noble was her fight to help her son if she couldn’t keep track of him?

She swerved into the kitchen and spotted a cartoon-patterned cereal bowl, a cup and a mug drying in the dish rack beside her aunt’s porcelain sink. Evidence that they’d eaten together. Jodi’s chest loosened and her breathing eased as she stood beside the potted geraniums lining her aunt’s open windows. Okay. So he was supervised. But where was he?

A distinct belly laugh followed another duck call outside. Tyler?

As she pushed out onto the back deck, a fifty-state spoon collection beside the kitchen door swung wildly.

“Tyler!” She lowered her cupped hands and squinted into the midmorning light. The slanted roof shaded much of the narrow back lawn, its shadow reaching to the uneven rock wall and the stone staircase that led to a wooden dock. Lake Champlain sparkled brighter than a sapphire and for a moment the reflective, rippling waves blinded her.

She clutched the rail and groped her way down the steps, blinking the spots out of her eyes.

“Jodi! We’re over here,” called Aunt Grace.

Relief filled her as she jogged to the dock where her aunt cradled her son on her lap, a familiar young woman with short dark hair and hazel eyes lounging nearby.

“Sue?” Amazement pulled her up short and the rough planks scraped against her bare feet, her sleep shirt flapping in the lake breeze. She hadn’t seen her since the day they’d bet on which egg would hatch first on her father’s farm.

Sue lifted a carved duck whistle and blew, making Tyler bring his hands close to his ears and laugh again.

Warmth radiated through her at the sight of her animated boy, his head swiveling every which way, his cheeks flushed and mouth parted in a smile as he chuckled. The moment rejuvenated her more than a cup of Mr. Williams’s espresso and eased the heaviness Daniel’s speech had put in her heart. Seeing Tyler like this convinced her that she was on the right path, no matter how many cuts and bruises she got along the way. Daniel may have won last night’s battle, but the war wasn’t over.

And her enemy’s sister was in her backyard. Coincidence?

“I heard you were in town and wanted to come over and say hi.” Sue’s wide smile made her look more pixie-like than Jodi recalled. Sue shoved her glasses higher on her delicate nose and peered up at Jodi. “How are you?”

Jodi swallowed. How much had she heard from her big brother?

“I’m fine. Tired, I suppose.” She laughed self-consciously and plucked at her sleepwear. “Good morning, Tyler, Aunt Grace.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek, and he turned and caught her on the lips instead.

Happiness filled her. Tyler loved her. He might not be able to say the words, but his actions spoke for him.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Her aunt’s eyes crinkled. “That must have been some reunion.”

“Something like that.” Jodi avoided Sue’s assessing stare. “If you don’t mind waiting a minute, I’ll grab Tyler’s glasses, change and be right back.”

“Sounds good.” Sue blew the duck whistle again and the memory of Daniel whittling them chased Jodi to the house.

Inside, she leaned against the shut door, the glass knob digging into her spine. What was Sue’s real motive for being here? They’d grown up together, had been in the same 4-H groups and riding club. The two-year age difference meant they’d spent time hanging out, but had never been close friends. Was she the next weapon in Daniel’s arsenal?

Five minutes later, Jodi rejoined them on the pier, her tank top the same emerald as the Adirondack Mountains across the lake, her jean shorts practical in the rising heat. When she kneeled on the dock, she twisted her hair in a high ponytail, earning it a tug from Tyler when she pulled his eyeglasses band over his head.

“Hey!” She untangled his fingers, then lifted them to her lips before he could swat her. Prevention like that was pure autistic mother instinct. “Hands to ourselves, Ty.”

“Ah!” He kicked off his sneaker and it arced into the lake, where it bobbed on the surface. Jodi smothered a sigh and kept her face neutral as Tyler watched her. At least it wasn’t his glasses.

“Got it!” Sue slid onto her belly and snagged the shoe when it drifted close. She pointed the dripping sneaker at Tyler before handing it to Jodi. “Sneakers are for feet, not fish,” she said with a smile.

Tyler’s improbable, deep chuckle was infectious. His head pivoted on his shoulders, his eyes wide. When he reached for the band behind his head, Jodi tugged him into her arms. “Glasses don’t swim either, Ty.”

“Want to go in?” Sue lifted the hem of an open-stitch crochet half shirt to reveal a bathing suit underneath.