A Cinderella Story. Maureen Child

granted.” Deb smiled, put the frosting back down and planted both hands on the counter. “But what’s really going on with you? I notice you’re awful quick to defend him. Your protective streak is coming out.”

      That was the only problem with a best friend, Joy thought. Sometimes they saw too much. Deb knew that Joy hadn’t dated anyone in years. That she hadn’t had any interest in sparking a relationship—since her last one had ended so memorably. So of course she would pick up on the fact that Joy was suddenly very interested in one particular man.

      “It’s nothing.”

      “Sure,” Deb said with a snort of derision. “I believe that.”

      “Fine, it’s something,” Joy admitted. “I’m not sure what, though.”

      “But he’s so not the kind of guy I would expect you to be interested in. He’s so—cold.”

      Oh, there was plenty of heat inside Sam Henry. He just kept it all tamped down. Maybe that’s what drew her to him, Joy thought. The mystery of him. Most men were fairly transparent, but Sam had hidden depths that practically demanded she unearth them. She couldn’t get the image of the shadows in his eyes out of her mind. She wanted to know why he was so shut down. Wanted to know how to open him up.

      Smiling now, she said, “Holly keeps telling me he’s not mean, he’s just crabby.”

      Deb laughed. “Is he?”

      “Oh, definitely. But I don’t know why.”

      “I might.”

      “What?”

      Deb sighed heavily. “Okay, I admit that when you went to stay up there, I was a little worried that maybe he was some crazed weirdo with a closet full of women’s bones or something.”

      “I keep telling you, stop watching those horror movies.”

      Deb grinned. “Can’t. Love ’em.” She picked up the frosting bag as if she needed to be doing something while she told the story. “Anyway, I spent a lot of time online, researching the local hermit and—”

      “What?” And why hadn’t Joy done the same thing? Well, she knew why. It had felt like a major intrusion on his privacy. She’d wanted to get him to actually tell her about himself. Yet here she was now, ready to pump Deb for the information she herself hadn’t wanted to look for.

      “You know he used to be a painter.”

      “Yes, that much I knew.” Joy took a seat at one of the counter stools and kept her gaze fixed on Deb’s blue eyes.

      “He was famous. I mean famous.” She paused for emphasis. “Then about five years ago, he just stopped painting entirely. Walked away from his career and the fame and fortune and moved to the mountains to hide out.”

      “You’re not telling me anything I didn’t know so far.”

      “I’m getting there.” Sighing, Deb said softly, “His wife and three-year-old son died in a car wreck five years ago.”

      Joy felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. The air left her lungs as sympathetic pain tore at her. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to imagine that kind of hell. That kind of devastation. “Oh, my God.”

      “Yeah, I know,” Deb said with a wince. Laying down the pastry bag, she added, “When I found out, I felt so bad for him.”

      Joy did, too. She couldn’t even conceive the level of pain Sam had experienced. Even the thought of such a loss was shattering. Remembering the darkness in his eyes, Joy’s heart hurt for him and ached to somehow ease the grief that even five years later still held him in a tight fist. Now at least she could understand a little better why he’d closed himself off from the world.

      He’d hidden himself away on a mountaintop to escape the pain that was stalking him. She saw it in his eyes every time she looked at him. Those shadows that were a part of him were really just reflections of the pain that was in his heart. Of course he was still feeling the soul-crushing pain of losing his family. God, just the thought of losing Holly was enough to bring her to her knees.

      Instinctively, she moved to Deb’s kitchen window and looked out at two little girls playing with a puppy. Her gaze locked on her daughter, Joy had to blink a sheen of tears from her eyes. So small. So innocent. To have that...magic winked out like a blown-out match? She couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to try.

      “God, this explains so much,” she whispered.

      Deb walked to her side. “It does. But Joy, before you start riding to the rescue, think about it. It’s been five years since he lost his family, and as far as I know, he’s never talked about it. I don’t think anyone in town even knows about his past.”

      “Probably not,” she said, “unless they took the time to do an internet search on him.”

      Deb winced again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. Sort of feels like intruding on his privacy, now that I know.”

      “No, I’m glad you did. Glad you told me,” Joy said, with a firm shake of her head. “I just wish I’d thought of doing it myself. Heck, I’m on the internet all the time, just working.”

      “That’s why it didn’t occur to you,” Deb told her. “The internet is work for you. For the rest of us, it’s a vast pool of unsubstantiated information.”

      She had a point. “Well, then I’m glad I came by today to get your updates for your website.”

      As a virtual assistant, Joy designed and managed websites for most of the shops in town, plus the medical clinic, plus she worked for a few mystery authors who lived all over the country. It was the perfect job for her, since she was very good at computer programming and it allowed her to work at home and be with Holly instead of sending the little girl out to day care.

      But, because she spent so much time online for her job, she rarely took the time to browse sites for fun. Which was why it hadn’t even occurred to her to look up Sam Henry.

      Heart heavy, Joy looked through the window and watched as Holly fell back onto the dry grass, laughing as the puppy lunged up to lavish kisses on her face. Holly. God, Joy thought, now she knew why Sam had demanded she keep her daughter away from him. Seeing another child so close to the age of his lost son must be like a knife to the heart.

      And yet...she remembered how kind he’d been with Holly in the workshop that first day. How he’d helped her, how Holly had helped him.

      Sam hadn’t thrown Holly out. He’d spent time with her. Made her feel important and gave her the satisfaction of building something. He had closed himself off, true, but there was clearly a part of him looking for a way out.

      She just had to help him find it.

      Except for her nightly monologues in the great room, Joy had been giving him the space he claimed to want. But now she thought maybe it wasn’t space he needed...but less of it. He’d been alone too long, she thought. He’d wrapped himself up in his pain and had been that way so long now, it probably felt normal to him. So, Joy told herself, if he wouldn’t go into the world, then the world would just have to go to him.

      “You’re a born nurturer,” Deb whispered, shaking her head.

      Joy looked at her.

      “I can see it on your face. You’re going to try to ‘save’ him.”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “Oh, honey,” Deb said, “you didn’t have to.”

      “It’s annoying to be read so easily.”

      “Only because I love you.” Deb smiled. “But Joy, before you jump feetfirst into this, maybe you should consider that Sam might not want to be saved.”

      She was sure Deb was right. He didn’t want to come out of the darkness. It had become