Cinderella Story. Elizabeth August

recalled the funeral. Olivia had been mayor of Grand Springs. He’d met her at various fund-raisers Noah had dragged him to. After learning of all she’d done and was trying to do for the town, he’d grown to admire her. Out of respect, he’d made a special effort to attend the service. It had been a strained affair. Her daughter, Eve, and son, Hal, had delivered eulogies. As she spoke, Eve’s voice had broken and tears had trickled down her cheeks. Hal had seemed more in shock than in sorrow, but then everyone handled death in different ways. Besides, having one’s mother murdered would shake anyone up. And to have been left standing at the altar on the same night as his mother’s death had to have been a double whammy.

      “Women. From the very beginning of time, they’ve been nothing but trouble,” Alex muttered. A grudging grimace played across his face. Even as he’d tried to concentrate on the funeral rites, he’d found himself surveying the assembly, looking for the dark-haired, hazel-eyed woman from the night of the storm.

      His jaw firmed. It was definitely time he sought out this Nina person and got her out of his system once and for all.

      * * *

      Nina Lindstrom sat on the side of her son Tommy’s bed and smiled encouragingly down at his pale face. “We’re going to meet Dr. Genkins at the hospital tomorrow. He’s going to find out why you’re feeling tired and dizzy lately and make it all better.” Silently she said a prayer that this would be the case.

      The towheaded, hazel-eyed six-year-old had always been an active child, constantly getting into things and squirming when made to sit too long. When he’d begun to slow down a couple of months ago, both she and her in-laws had attributed his behavior to the maturing process. But lately they’d begun to worry. When he’d started complaining about being dizzy, she’d called Dr. Genkins.

      A preliminary examination had shown nothing serious, and the pediatrician had hypothesized that Tommy could be having some fluid build-up in the inner ear. He’d prescribed a mild antihistamine. But the dizzy spells had continued to grow worse. Now Tommy swayed when he walked, and she’d noticed he was dropping things more than usual. She kissed him lightly on the forehead. “Now, you go to sleep and get your rest.”

      His mouth tightened and his jaw tensed. She recognized his brave face, the one he used when he was scared but didn’t want to admit it. “I’ll be with you all of the time,” she promised.

      His jaw relaxed and she kissed his cheek. “Sleep tight,” she said, rising.

      Moving to the second bed in the room, she looked down at the sturdy little dark-haired, blue-eyed four-year-old boy there. “You get some sleep, too, Peter.” Ruffling his hair, she kissed him good night.

      “Tommy be well soon?” he asked worriedly.

      “Yes, soon,” she promised. She needed to hear herself say the words to bolster her own courage. She’d heard the concern in Dr. Genkins’s voice when she’d called about Tommy’s increasing symptoms.

      Leaving the boys’ room, she found her eight-year-old daughter huddled, clutching her favorite doll, in the recliner that had been Tom Lindstrom’s favorite chair. Elizabeth, blond and blue-eyed like her father, looked anxiously up at her mother. “Is Tommy going to join Daddy?”

      Nina’s jaw firmed. She couldn’t bear another loss. “No,” she said with conviction. “Come on, it’s time for you to be in bed, as well.”

      Elizabeth slipped out of the chair and, taking her mother’s hand, accompanied her into the second bedroom of the small two-bedroom apartment. There Nina tucked her daughter into one of the two twin beds. But she was too tense to climb into the other and go to sleep.

      She went into the tiny kitchen and made herself some warm milk, then went into the living room and sank down onto the couch. It seemed like lately if anything could go wrong it had. The storm had caused extensive damage to the Grand Springs Diner where she worked as a waitress. Because of that, the diner was closed, and there was no telling when it would reopen. Or even if it would. Ma and Pa Olsen, the owners, had put the place up for sale.

      In the meantime, she hadn’t been able to find a steady job. She’d been called a couple of times by the various catering services she normally moonlighted for, but those had been one-day jobs and the pay didn’t come anywhere near meeting her monthly expenses. She’d have to dip into her meager savings to pay the rent and buy food. And now there would be doctor’s bills.

      Other than her children, she had no close family of her own. And she refused to ask Tom’s parents for financial help. So that they could save enough to retire without having to worry about putting food on the table, his father worked fifty-to sixty-hour weeks as a mechanic and his mother had cleaned houses until arthritis in her shoulder and hip had forced her into retirement.

      Besides, Helen Lindstrom was already helping enormously by baby-sitting Nina’s children while she worked. Nina wanted to pay her but Helen refused, saying that watching her grandchildren was an act of love that helped ease the pain of having lost her son. Even more, both Helen and Ray treated Nina like a daughter and gave her emotional support for which she would be forever grateful. Nina wouldn’t ask for more from them.

      “I’ll find a way to make ends meet,” she vowed.

      Closing her eyes, she leaned back and, searching for a moment of peace, tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. Instead of the blank slate she sought, a man’s image appeared. In the past, the image had always been of her late husband…blond, blue-eyed Tom Lindstrom. But tonight the man who filled her mind was brown-haired and green-eyed.

      Frowning, she opened her eyes. The cords in her neck had tensed and she massaged them. Ever since the night of the storm, the green-eyed man had haunted her, popping into her mind and her dreams, unexpected and uninvited.

      “He and I come from two different worlds,” she grumbled at herself. If the lights hadn’t gone out and she’d waited on him as she had on other occasions, he would never have given her a second look. She would have been nothing more than the hired help, someone to ignore unless there was reason for complaint. He would have been so oblivious to her that if she’d passed him on the street the next day, he wouldn’t have recognized her. She pushed Alex Bennett from her mind, returning her attention to her real concerns.

      The thought of Tommy lying pale and afraid in his bed brought her own fear back to the surface. She recognized the bud of panic. Following Tom’s death, she’d had several moments when anxieties about her ability to care for herself and her children had threatened to overwhelm her. But she’d overcome them. Her jaw tensed with resolve. She would not let fear rule her.

      Tom’s death had taught her a very valuable lesson. It had taught her to rely on herself. Following her parents’ deaths, she’d turned to him for comfort and support, and he’d encased her in a protective blanket of love. Two months later, when she’d turned eighteen, she’d married him. She’d trusted him to be there always to take care of her and their offspring. Then came the day the drunk driver had forced him off the road and down a two-hundred-foot drop to his death. Suddenly, for the first time in her life, she was really on her own, and with three small children to care for. It was like learning to run before she’d even learned to stand. But she’d made it. They had a roof over their heads and food on the table.

      But for how long? demanded the nagging voice of fear that would not completely disappear.

      “For as long as I have the strength to work,” she replied curtly.

      Abruptly she recalled Jessica Hanson predicting that things would work out well for her, and there had been gossip that the woman could see into the future. But how far? Nina wondered dryly. Since the storm, her luck seemed to be going from bad to worse and was showing no signs of changing. “People make their own luck.” She repeated aloud a phrase that had been one of her grandmother’s favorites.

      She picked up the newspaper, intending to go directly to the Help Wanted section. Instead, her attention was caught by the article about the murder of Olivia Stuart. The police, it reported, still had no solid suspect. She hadn’t really known the