The Cottage on Juniper Ridge. Sheila Roberts

tree, occupied a corner of the lot. But the place was tinier than Jen’s condo.

      “It’s not very big,” Toni pointed out.

      “There’s only me. I don’t need a big place,” Jen said, and climbed out of the SUV.

      She’s going to do something crazy, Toni thought. Was it too late to demand that Jen hand over her checkbook?

      A big black truck drove up and parked in front of them and out of it stepped a six-foot hunk of dark-haired gorgeous. Toni forgot about getting her sister’s checkbook. For a moment she even forgot she had a husband and a romantic dinner waiting for her in Seattle. By the time she remembered, Jen and the hunk had shaken hands and were halfway up the walk.

      “Jen, wait,” she called, and hurried after them. But she knew she was too late.

       Chapter Four

      Never be afraid to start again.

      —Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

      Garrett Armstrong was the owner of this cottage. That meant he’d be Jen’s landlord? She’d take it. No wedding ring on his left hand. She’d take him, too.

      Don’t be in a rush, she warned herself. She’d been there, done that. Serge had been a big, hormone-fueled mistake and she didn’t need that kind of heartbreak again. One romantic misstep equaled a starter marriage, but two equaled no brains. She was going to be smart the next time around and pick a man who had his act together. No more falling for a pretty face.

      But, oh, what a pretty face this guy had—dark eyes, square manly chin, big shoulders.

      You’re here for the house. Oh, yeah. That.

      “Where are you from?” he asked as they walked up the little path to the cabin.

      “Seattle.”

      “Where people have neighbors,” Toni added, an oh-so-unsubtle reminder that Jen was a city girl.

      “I’m sure there are neighbors here somewhere,” Jen said.

      “There are,” Garrett assured her. “They’re half a mile down the road.”

      “Well, that’ll be handy if you want to borrow a cup of sugar,” Toni said with a sneer.

      “So I’ll stock up on sugar.” Jen sent her a look that said, “Shut up already.”

      She shut up, but scowled in disapproval.

      “Anyway, this is only a few minutes from town,” Jen mumbled.

      “You’re moving over here for...?” he asked.

      A chance for my eggs to meet a nice sperm. “I’m simplifying my life,” Jen said.

      He nodded. “Always a good idea.”

      “Right now she’s just looking around, getting ideas,” put in Toni, and it was all Jen could do not to kick her.

      Garrett the Gorgeous frowned.

      Jen could hardly blame him. No doubt he had better things to do than waste his time with someone who wasn’t really interested in renting his place. Was there someone in his life he was doing those better things with? Not that she was rushing into anything. She was just wondering. And wondering wasn’t rushing.

      “I’m definitely interested in renting up here,” she said, sending her sister’s mouth slipping even farther down at the corners. “Do you have cable? Wi-Fi?”

      “Just got it,” he said.

      “That’s great.” Jen wanted to live simply, not primitively.

      Then they went inside and she came to a complete, startled stop.

      “Oh,” Toni said faintly from behind her.

      Oh, didn’t begin to cover it. The cottage’s inside definitely didn’t match its cute exterior. It was one level and that consisted of a great room (well, sort of great) that included a kitchen, a dining area with a rickety wooden table and four equally rickety chairs and living room furniture that no self-respecting thrift store would accept. A tiny hallway scooted past the kitchen, probably leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. The place smelled musty and Jen wrinkled her nose.

      Garrett must have noticed because he said, “It’s been closed up for a while. All it needs is a good fire in the woodstove.”

      The woodstove was a bonus, she had to admit. Once she imported her furniture and hung some nice curtains at the windows, the living area would look totally different. She moved toward the kitchen, half the size of the one she had at the condo. The cabinets were old and battered, but they could have a second life if she painted them white.

      Nothing would make those mustard-yellow Formica counters anything but disgusting, though. Jen pushed away the image of her spiffy granite counters in the condo. Instead, she pictured herself setting out freshly baked bread, making this kitchen homey with a mason jar full of wildflowers on the counter. There was enough room there to work. She could master the art of making pies, can fruit.

      Speaking of fruit... “What kind of tree is that in the front yard?” she asked.

      “Apple.”

      “Home-canned applesauce,” she said dreamily.

      He seemed impressed. “You know how to can?”

      “I’m going to learn.”

      Toni was standing by the window now. “Is it my imagination or is the floor slanting over here?”

      “The foundation settled,” Garrett explained.

      “I’ll bet that’s what they said about the leaning tower of Pisa,” Toni muttered.

      Jen started down the hall. “So, two bedrooms, right?”

      “That’s right,” he said.

      “One for me and one for guests. You and Wayne and the kids can come visit,” she said to Toni, who was falling in behind them.

      “It might get a little crowded with four of us in one bed.”

      “The sofa’s a sleeper,” said Jen’s would-be landlord.

      “Mmm,” Toni responded diplomatically.

      Jen knew what she was thinking. The ratty, old brown couch would have to be fumigated before she’d let her children sleep on it.

      They stopped at the first bedroom, furnished with twin beds covered in ancient brown bedspreads with big orange flowers that must’ve been hanging out in there since the seventies. “I suppose this is the guest room,” Toni said, her tone of voice speaking volumes.

      “It’s not bad,” Jen insisted.

      “The other bedroom is here,” Garrett said, leading the way to the next room. He was beautiful to follow, broad-shouldered and tall with a stare-worthy butt.

      He opened the door and Jen peeked into the room and got a pleasant surprise. Lace curtains hung at the windows. Yes, they needed washing, but they were pretty, nonetheless. There, in the middle of the room, sat a double bed with a carved headboard and a beautiful quilt, done in shades of pink. Matching oak nightstands flanked it. Against another wall stood an antique oak dresser complete with beveled mirror.

      “This is so sweet,” she said.

      “The bedroom set was my grandmother’s,” Garrett told her.

      “Did she make the quilt?”

      “As a matter of fact, she did.”

      “Is she still alive?”

      He shook his head. “No. But my other grandmother is. She lives here in Icicle Falls.”

      “It’s