Page 12 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

When I rolled into town on a Greyhound bus, six months pregnant, she took me in. She moved me into this house, gave me a job and assumed the role of Charlie’s grandmother.

Because that’s what Hazel did.

She collected strays.

Lucky for me, I was one of her strays. So was Jackson. Together, we ran her bar after she decided to retire. Now she spent her days chasing Charlie around and volunteering in the kitchen at the Flathead Summer Camp.

A camp, I’d learned, that had just been purchased by Charlie’s father.

“How are you doing?” Hazel asked.

“Shocked,” I muttered, taking a deep breath of the smoky air. “I really want a cigarette.”

“Too bad you quit.” She took a drag. “And I don’t share.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Too bad.”

Hazel had told me on more than one occasion to cremate her with a pack of cigarettes. Her dedication to the habit was legendary. But she’d never condoned smoking as one of my vices.

My first cigarette had been at sixteen. I hadn’t even been old enough to buy them myself. But once I’d learned I was pregnant with Charlie, I’d quit cold turkey.

At times, I’d pretend to smoke. I’d hold one, unlit, between my fingers, letting the little white stick calm some nerves. I had a pack in my underwear drawer for just that reason. But tonight, I wanted more than just to pretend. Seeing Logan again had me itching for a puff.

“I can’t believe he came into the bar.”

Hazel hummed and turned toward the lake. “Yeah. It’s, um . . . crazy.”

Why did she sound guilty? Her tone was a lot like Charlie’s had been earlier when I’d found that nasty frog in the bathroom after she’d promised to keep it outside.

My eyes narrowed as Hazel picked at the wood railing. “What did you do?”

“Me?” she gasped. “Nothing.”

What a terrible liar. “Hazel,” I warned.

She took two more drags before finally stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray she left out here. Then she slipped off the railing and came to sit in the wicker chair across from my love seat. “It might not have been just a coincidence that he came to Montana.”

My jaw slackened. “What?”

Hazel had known how to find Logan? How long had she known? Why hadn’t she told me sooner? I trusted her more than any other person on the planet. We didn’t keep secrets from each other. She’d let him walk into the bar today and surprise me completely. How could she keep something this important from me?

“I can hear those gears turning in your pretty head from over here, so before you make yourself dizzy, let me explain.”

“Fast.” I sat on my hands so I wouldn’t rip a cigarette out of her pack and suck it down.

“Remember I told you that I was helping Willa try and find a buyer for the camp?”

“Yeah.” It had been a few months ago, but Hazel had spent a lot of long nights hovering over her laptop as she researched charitable foundations.

“Well, while I was researching, I stumbled across the Kendrick Foundation.”

The Kendrick Foundation.

Logan Kendrick.

I’d guessed a hundred potential last names for Logan, but never Kendrick. It suited him though. Much like the man himself, it was classy and strong. It was a name not easily forgotten.

Too bad he hadn’t mentioned it years ago.