Page 4 of Theirs to Treasure

“I just hate it when I disappoint her,” Chance explained sheepishly. “It’s good to have you back here.”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back,” Sam admitted reluctantly.

Sam was two grades behind Chance in school, even though they were only a year apart. That happened a lot with the kids in foster care. Betty and Butch did a great job working with the kids on their homework so that they could catch up. Chance worked with Sam as well, and the following year, Sam skipped a grade and caught up with his age group in school.

Since Sam was big for his age, even before he caught up academically he always played on the same extra-curricular sports team as Chance. Chance and Sam were a force to be reckoned with on every basketball, baseball, and football team. Both were very protective of the smaller, weaker kids, and never let others pick on less popular or non-athletic kids.

Sam was twelve and a half when he left to be with his mother for the last time. He came back a year and a half later. This time, there were no signs of injuries—at least, not outward signs.

Chance asked him if his dad had been released from prison again, and all Sam said was yes. When he asked what happened, Sam lashed out and told him to mind his own business. It took an entire year for Butch and Betty to get Sam to start playing on teams again. When the social workers came for Sam to return to his mother after he turned fifteen, Butch and Betty hired lawyers and Sam never left again, until he enlisted in the military.

Sam was a train wreck since coming back from Afghanistan, but Chance had seen that before, back when Sam was a kid. He was confident that with the right motivation, and some well-timed ass-kicking, he could get his friend back to where he needed to be.

Chance knew Josie’s sealed court records contained things, bad things, that Chance could only speculate about. But she’d managed miracles in her life with her sisters and herself, and whatever else there was, they could handle it. What’s more, with Josie’s help, maybe Sam could finally confront the demons he’d bottled up from his childhood, which Chance was positive still festered.

Chance took another sip of Scotch and smiled when he saw an eagle soar over the lake. Fate Harbor was a beautiful place to heal and start a new life. He knew to the bottom of his soul that the family he wanted to create was the right one, and that it included both Sam and Josie.

Okay, yeah, maybe he wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure that his plan would work out. But a little fear was good for you, right? It made you work harder. Chance downed his Scotch and went in to check on his friend and call the scholarship offices down in Florida.

Chapter 3

Josie giggled at the sight of the sky-blue mailbox with the salmon painted on the side. Betty had told her about that, but she had to see it to believe it. Butch still loves his fishing, she thought. She pumped her fist in the air. This was it, she’d found them. She’d found a piece of her past. Secretly, in a spot deep in her heart, she felt like she might have found the rest of her family.

What had it been, twenty-one or twenty-two years since Betty Hutchins has last hugged her?

“Yay me!”

She’d wanted to surprise them, so she was here three weeks earlier than when Sweet Dreams Bakery was due to open. She had told them she would be in town next week. This way, she could have a lot of quality time to visit with them. It’s going to be wonderful! she thought. It would also help assuage the empty feeling she’d had since Sarah and Becca left for Florida State University.

Josie turned down the gravel driveway to their house. She loved all the houses here in Fate Harbor. They hid far down from the road, surrounded by evergreen trees with ferns and other emerald greenery spilling around them.

As she pulled her car up to the front of the house, she was surprised to see a large black truck in the driveway. Butch and Betty were both in their late sixties and she had trouble visualizing them in such a high truck. Maybe they were having visitors. Good thing she’d made extra cupcakes.

Making treats for people made her happy. It was a quick and easy route to other people’s acceptance. One of her counselors had shamed her for her need to be accepted, and Josie stopped seeing her. Instead, she found someone else who better understood her.

With the help of her second psychologist, she’d gained confidence in her business sense. She realized that her love for people and desire to please them through her baking was a good thing. The psychologist said the world needed more love, and he also reminded her that people who went into business doing what they loved were usually more successful than those who didn’t follow their passion.

Josie got out of her car and stretched, then went to the backseat to get the Tupperware container of cupcakes she’d brought with her from Florida. She’d made sure to bake a moist recipe, since she knew it would be a long drive and she’d be taking plenty of rest stops.

She bent over too fast, then gasped for breath. She’d bound the corset pretty tight today, because she woke up with her back hurting from the fourth day of driving. She liked using corsets instead of braces. She slowed down and bent again.

When she turned around, she came face-to-face with a broad chest in a blue flannel shirt.

“Butch!” she squealed in delight.

She looked up and took an immediate step back. It wasn’t Butch. Instead, a blonde hotty confronted her. She took another step back and started to fall into her packed back seat. One big hand reached around her waist, while the other grabbed the container before it hit the ground.

“Welcome to Fate Harbor, Zee. I’ve missed you.”

He pulled her in for a hug. Sparks flew out to every nerve ending in her body. She stared up into familiar blue eyes that tugged at her memory. The handsome man looked down at her, his gaze intent as he brushed his fingertips down her cheek.

She pushed back from his chest, and that broke the spell.

“Who are you?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. She’d meant it to come out forceful, not breathy. She tried again. “Who are you? And give me my container.”

He laughed.

“Still a spitfire,” he said. He gently placed the plastic box back into her waiting hands.