Second Chance Match. Arlene James

gave her hands a clap. “Lovely. My sisters and I will look forward to hosting you. And say hello to Abby for me, won’t you?” Jessa nodded stiffly. “We’ll let ourselves out now and see you later, then.” She started away, snagging Garrett by the short sleeve of his faded red T-shirt.

       Blinking, he realized that he’d been staring at Jessa Lynn Pagett for some time. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about…” He waved a hand at the ladder.

       Her dainty fingers fluttered nervously at her sides, then she shrugged. “Scared me, but no harm done, I guess.”

       He backed away, saying, “I trust you can lock up.”

       She gave him a wry smile. “I have a key.”

       Slipping his from the pocket of his jeans, he held it aloft. “Me, too.”

       And that about summed up the situation. They both had a claim to the place. The only question now was: Whose claim would actually prevail?

       Garrett turned and followed Magnolia from the house. He carefully locked the door behind him and once more pocketed the key, his shoulders slumping.

       “Now, now,” Magnolia assured him, “all will be well, never you fear.”

       “I know,” he told her glumly, stooping to accept her wiry hug. “I know.”

       Somehow, it would all work out. If the April afternoon no longer seemed quite as bright as it had earlier, well, it was still a far cry from the darkness of his past.

      Thank You, Lord, he prayed silently, tamping down his disappointment and qualms, for bringing dear old Mags and her sisters into my and Bethany’s lives.

       His younger sister, Bethany, had married another Chatam nephew, Chandler, last summer, and together they were raising a young son on their ranch outside of Stephenville, about three hours away.

      Whatever happens, Garrett went on determinedly, I am blessed. Help me to remember that. Always.

       He had the feeling that he was going to need reminders in the days to come.

       “I should’ve known,” Jessa muttered, swiping at the hot tears that rolled down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she turned her face upward, speaking through her teeth, “But just once couldn’t it have been easy? Please, God. How can You let this happen now? Is a safe place in this world too much to ask?”

       She’d thought that she and Hunter were finally going to get their lives together, but no. That Willows guy thought this was his house. And maybe it was. Talk about your major complications.

       If that wasn’t bad enough, why did he have to be so good-looking, too? The last thing she needed in her life was another handsome man, especially one with electric blue eyes—and a claim on her property. This house here on Charter Street was the perfect place for her to open her florist shop and make a home for Hunter. For a couple hours, she’d thought God had answered her prayers, only to have her hopes dashed.

       “Well, what else is new?” she asked herself, scrubbing away fresh tears. It wasn’t as if God had ever really listened to her, after all.

       At least she and Hunter had a place to spend the night. They’d already overstayed their welcome at Abby’s retirement complex, which restricted guests to visits no longer than four nights in a row.

       Jessa shuddered to think what they’d have done without Abby, who was an old friend of her mom’s. When Jessa had finally gathered the courage to leave behind her old life and rebuild here in Buffalo Creek, Abby had not only offered temporary sanctuary, she’d come after them in her old car. She had even thought of the Monroe place for them, having seen a change of zoning notice in the local newspaper. Her personal connection with Ellie Monroe had made the idea seem heaven-sent. Jessa had reached an agreement with Ellie about leasing the place even before she’d seen inside the house, but as soon as she’d walked through the front door, a sense of well-being had come over her, a feeling of home.

       So much for that.

       Not that she would just roll over and give up. She’d fought fiercer battles, after all. No, she was going to stay, at least for the night, at Chatam House. With the Monroes. And find a way to plead her case. The worst that could happen was that she’d get her money back, some of it, anyway.

       Sighing, she dropped her head into her hands. Oh, why, had she let herself spend hard-earned cash on ladders and such to fix up the house, a house that might not even be hers? She groaned aloud, thinking of the business license for which she’d applied that very day. Why couldn’t she have waited until the papers on the house had been signed?

       The pounding of small feet on bare hardwood jerked her from her pit of regret. She rubbed her face with her hands and put on a smile just as her six-year-old son, Hunter, burst into the room from the kitchen, his shaggy, nut-brown hair flopping.

       “Mommy! Abby teached me my lessons already.”

       “Taught, not teached,” Jessa corrected, opening her arms. Hunter collided with her in a glancing hug. “Wasn’t that nice of Abby to take over your schooling for the day?”

       “Uh-huh,” Hunter replied absently. He seemed much more interested in the bits of paper littering the place, dragging the toes of his canvas shoes through them. “It snowed.”

       Jessa chuckled. “Kind of. Unfortunately, this snow won’t melt. It has to be swept up.”

       Abby appeared in the doorway. She glanced around, remarking, “I see you’ve made some progress.”

       “That’s what I thought,” Jessa told her glumly. Pointing Hunter toward the kitchen and the laundry room beyond, she instructed the boy to see if he could find the broom and dustpan. He ran off to do so, giving Jessa the chance to inform Abby of the mix-up with the house.

       “Good grief,” Abby commented, the wrinkles in her square face deepening as she considered the situation. She ran a hand over her short, thin, salt-and-pepper hair. “What are you going to do?”

       “We’ve been invited to stay at Chatam House,” Jessa said, reaching out for the broom as Hunter ran up, dragging it behind him.

       “Chatam House!” Abby exclaimed. “By whom?”

       “Magnolia Chatam. She said to tell you hello.”

       Abby’s thin eyebrows lifted upward, creating a series of grooves in her forehead. “Magnolia is one of the Chatam triplets. We worked together on a panel for the Historical Society.”

       Jessa had heard all about the Historical Society. With some three hundred buildings of historical significance in town, the society wielded a good bit of influence.

       “And who is the man again,” Abby asked, “the one who says this is his house?”

       That moment when Garrett Willows had caught her in his arms swept over Jessa. She’d been perched near the top of the ladder, reaching for a long strip of paper that dangled just above her head, and the next thing she’d known the ladder had rocked and she’d been falling. Then suddenly a pair of strong arms had caught her and pulled her safely against a broad, rock-hard chest. She’d felt his heart racing in tandem with hers, and though all fear had swiftly passed, she’d felt an insane urge to loop her arms around his neck. A pleased smile had hovered over her lips as she’d gazed up into his handsome face, and then she had realized that he had made her fall and her good sense had, thankfully, come rushing back. Mortified, she’d scrambled out of his arms and tried to catch her breath.

       Jessa shrugged, as if he hadn’t made much of an impression on her. “Garrett something-or-other.” Abby shook her head, so Jessa went on. “Tallish.” Six feet, at least, maybe an inch or two over. “Black hair.” Thick, coal-black hair that shadowed his square jaws and made his bright blue eyes all the more piercing.

       She shivered. Men that handsome always disturbed her. This one…something about this one frightened her, and it wasn’t just his claim on her home. It was more an odd sense of familiarity