Winter Reunion. Roxanne Rustand

in the process, which would all be for the good.

      Beth.

      Running a hand over the rough stone walls, he tried to force her from his thoughts, but her image stayed there—wounded, vulnerable, betrayed—with the shock and pain still in her eyes at the moment he’d demanded a divorce and then walked out of her life.

      Maybe he could finally absolve some of his own guilt if he were to set a rock-bottom price and a no-interest payment contract, to ensure that she could buy her beloved building. He owed her that and more, for how badly he’d treated her.

      If she was even willing to talk to him about it. He certainly had no doubts about what her reaction would be when they met face-to-face at the lawyer’s office.

      Her formal, distant words and cool nod of sympathy at his mother’s funeral marked a chasm between them that had probably only deepened since then.

      He’d be lucky if she even showed up. But what did he expect, after what he’d done to her? She’d been a forever kind of woman and she’d deserved so much more than someone as damaged as him.

      At the oddly magnified sound of approaching footsteps, he lifted a hand to adjust his new hearing aid and froze, his senses still hyperalert as he fought a flashback to mortar fire and an explosion of rock and steel. For a split second he couldn’t draw breath in the choking dust of it all. Felt the searing pain. Saw the crumpled bodies—all that was left of his squad.

      His buddies for the past ten years, and the only family he knew beyond the parents who’d estranged themselves from him so long ago.

      That he’d been the one left with just wounds and a severe, temporary hearing loss filled him with renewed guilt and sorrow every single day.

      He forced himself to relax and look over his shoulder, and found Nora Henderson sauntering toward him with a briefcase in one hand and a stack of manila folders held in the crook of her other arm.

      She nodded toward the law office across the street. “Mondays are usually quiet, and I finished with my previous appointment a little early. If you’re ready, come on over.”

      “And Beth?” The name felt soft and sweet, like the woman herself, and he found himself reining in emotions he’d thought long dead.

      The attorney shifted her load and snagged a cell phone from her briefcase. “We definitely need her, too. I’ll give her a call.”

      “Can I ask why she has to be there? I thought everything was settled during our divorce.”

      A flicker of a smile touched the older woman’s lips as she veered off to cross the street. “I’m simply following your mother’s instructions,” she said over her shoulder. “She was always remarkably specific, you know. See you in a few minutes?”

      Memories swamped him as he watched the lawyer walk away. Remarkably specific. Now that was hitting the nail square on the head for both of his parents, he thought with a hollow, silent laugh.

      They’d planned every step of his education. Every decision had been theirs, without fail, no matter what he’d wanted, right down to where he would go to college for premed, the GPA he had to earn, and which medical school he would attend.

      They’d brooked no arguments. Hadn’t listened. Within their social circle, they’d been lauded as model parents. But when he’d run off to join the military, it had been as much an escape as it was a career choice.

      And his father had never spoken to him again.

      Beth felt a prickle of uneasiness skitter down her spine when the legal secretary gave her a knowing smile and waved her back to Nora’s office.

      Her uneasiness exploded into full-fledged anxiety when she arrived to find Dev already seated, his broad shoulders dwarfing one of the two leather chairs facing Nora’s desk. Clenching her jaw, she wished she could be anywhere else.

      She’d expected gaunt, hospital pallor, and had prepared to offer cool, detached sympathy. She hadn’t expected this. His overlong, midnight hair was past due for a cut. The five-o’clock shadow roughening his jaw and black polo shirt stretched over heavily muscled biceps gave him a dark and dangerous air.

      Which, she supposed, was warranted, given what he did for a living, though it seemed out of place in this genteel little tourist town.

      He moved to rise at her appearance but she waved him down into his chair as she sat and tried for a nonchalant air. “Nora, Dev. Nice to see you both, but I’m not sure why I need to be here.”

      Dev’s intent gaze swept over her, then turned back to Nora. “A formality?”

      Nora lifted a folder from the stack on her desk and opened it. “More than that,” she murmured. “Vivian and Alan were wonderful people. They cared deeply about their church, their community and their son. They wanted to make changes in their world while they were alive, and wanted it to continue after their deaths.”

      Clearly uncomfortable at her words, Dev hitched a shoulder. “If they left everything to the church, I’m cool with that. I’m not sticking around in this town at any rate.”

      “Not all families are quite so understanding, believe me. This office can turn into a war zone at the drop of a hat.” Nora smiled at him. “But while your parents did leave some of their liquid assets as a bequest for the church, that wasn’t the major part of their estate.”

      The attorney sifted through the papers in front of her and began reading a long document detailing a number of other bequests to local charities, shirttail relatives and to several close friends.

      Beth shifted in her seat and shot a surreptitious look at Dev. His casual demeanor revealed little concern about the proceedings…though as the only heir, he certainly didn’t need to worry. His father had been a popular small-town doctor, and his mother had come from an old-money family out East.

      Whether or not he returned to active military service, his future would be secure.

      Well, good for him. The sooner he left town, the sooner the painful knot in her stomach would ease.

      Dev jerked upright at the same moment Beth heard her own name. She tuned back in to the lawyer’s words.

      Dev shot a glance at Beth, then turned back to the lawyer. “You’re kidding.”

      “I’m afraid not, Dev.”

      Confused, Beth looked between the two of them. “What?”

      “Vivian made these…adjustments to her will after her husband’s death.” Nora tapped the paper in front of her. “She said Alan might not have approved, but she had good reasons, and as a woman of sound mind, she had the right to make any changes she wished. Are you familiar with the family home, Beth?”

      “Well, yes. Of course. I haven’t been there for many years. After Alan died, Vivian moved to a condo and turned their home into Sloane House—a boardinghouse.”

      “Not just any boarders. She took in people who had faced troubles and needed encouragement, a safe haven or a little boost in life. She helped them get on their feet.”

      “How?”

      “Some just needed an affordable place to stay so they could save money toward a rent deposit or down payment on a place of their own. Some had been downsized or out of the workforce for years, so she helped them look for jobs and prepare for interviews, or find loans for reeducation. Some needed help connecting with the right kinds of county services.”

      “My mother, the social worker,” Dev said drily. “That isn’t how I remember her while I was growing up.”

      Nora looked at him over the rims of her glasses. “You’ve been gone many years. People change.”

      “I guess, but she sure never said anything about this in her Christmas letters.”

      “She did know her limitations. She didn’t have a degree in social work, just a big