Meg grabbed her phone, then stepped outside and drew in a deep breath of fresh Rocky Mountain air mixed with the familiar scents of pine needles, lake water, hot summers, and cool, dewy morning grass.
She sipped her smooth roasted blend and strolled toward the quiet lake. Mornings were the best, before things got hopping for the day.
The birds flew inches above the water, searching for their breakfast. Little sets of rings slowly grew larger after the insects disturbed the glassy, smooth water. The occasional plop of a fish jumping and the steady crank of a fisherman’s reel slowly winding in the bait punctuated the quiet.
Studying the calming view, she drew another deep breath, and the tension slowly eased from her shoulders.
Home. For better or worse.
The half of the town not related to her would sigh and shake their heads when they saw the former bad girl was back again. The other half, her blood relatives, would just pretend they were one big, happy family, even though they knew the truth about Meg’s non-relationship with her father. It had taken Meg years to realize that her father, a distant and hands-off parent since her mother’s death, either hadn’t been willing or was incapable of raising his children. Thankfully her sibs had all banded together and supported one another growing up.
And then there was Amber, her nemesis from high school.
Amber had most everyone in town fooled by her innocent act. But Meg knew the truth. They’d once been best friends, until Amber revealed the black-hearted troublemaker she truly was.
Their friendship was doomed from the start. Amber was a Grant, the family who owned the mine and most of the land surrounding the town. Meg’s father owned all the buildings on Main Street, and most of the rest of the town. The power struggle between the Grants and the Andersons went back to Meg’s great-grandfather’s time.
The only thing that had changed in Anderson Butte in the last decade was Meg. Getting everyone else to believe it was going to be the trick.
Settling on the end of the dock, she dangled her feet over the edge. She was checking her phone, relieved there were no new texts from Josh, when the familiar thump of a cane followed by the shuffle of soft-soled shoes signaled that her tall, cranky, beloved grandmother was approaching from behind.
Meg laid the phone next to her mug, then lifted her hands over her head. “Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.”
Grandma grunted. “That joke’s getting old, Meggy. You know I didn’t mean to shoot you in the patooty.” An orthopedic shoe landed between Meg’s shoulder blades and she went tumbling over the edge and into the water. “But I meant that!”
Meg found herself at the sandy floor of the icy cold lake. She bounced off the bottom, holding back her laugh until she broke the surface. Flipping her long hair out of her face, she said, “Nice to see you too, Grandma. Just as feisty as ever, I see.”
Grandma pointed to her cane. “Next time you want to stay in my guesthouse you can just call and ask like polite folk do. I don’t appreciate squatters, so you can get your tiny heinie up here and paint my fence as rent, you hear? And bring Haley with you. I like that girl.”
So much for her one-day vacation.
“I was going to call but it got too late. You go to bed before the sun sets these days.”
“A woman needs her beauty sleep. The paint’s in the shed.”
Meg swam to the wooden ladder and pulled herself up. When she got to the top, her grandmother eyed the phone by the mug. Hopefully the text from Josh was low enough on the list she wouldn’t see it.
“Paint the fence and you can stay as long as you like. But you should probably know once your daddy found out you were back, he called an emergency family meeting for this afternoon at one. You’re not on the guest list because it’s about you, but show up anyway. Without Haley. That’d just irritate your father more.”
A family meeting? One she wasn’t invited to? That couldn’t be good.
Her father only called those when something was dire.
Meg ripped off her wet clothes and dug through the plastic garbage bags she’d hastily filled with the entire contents of her closet in her rush to leave Denver. Who needed a matching set of Louis Vuittons? There were definite benefits to waterproof, forty-gallon-sized, tear-resistant luggage. Especially if you happened to own an old car with leaky windows and moved as often as she did.
She bypassed the tight tanks and Daisy Dukes she’d been keeping in case her fat-free, pre-Haley body miraculously decided to reappear. Probably her stress-induced chocolate addiction wasn’t helping that happen.
Instead, she opted for acceptable clothing should her dad pay her an unexpected visit. She plucked out an oversized T-shirt with her college’s logo on it and an old pair of jean shorts. An outfit that thoroughly disguised all the parts that made her a girl and wouldn’t send her father’s blood pressure to stroke levels—and she was caving again, dammit. But she needed a job worse than she wanted to poke at her grumpy bear of a father.