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Lizzie have some talkin’ to do. No matter how ya slice it, Millie’s the one who’s gonna get cut.” Tom gazed out over the farmsteads around them, as if the peaceful, rolling landscape held the answers he was seeking. “If Nora wasn’t at the house when ya got there, where do ya suppose she is?”

Chapter Four
    The hisss-POOF! of the burner on her new gas stove made Nora jump back with a startled cry. You’re going to blow this place sky-high before you even get unpacked! What were you thinking, buying a house without electricity ?
    As she put a small pan of soup on the burner, Nora shook her head. She was surrounded by her microwave, her electric can opener, her blender—all of them useless now. And why had she bought a house with such a huge kitchen? Tanner had entertained his clients in upscale restaurants, so she’d done little cooking since she’d lived in Willow Ridge as a girl. Thank goodness the real estate agent had suggested that she get a gas fridge and stove, along with some battery lamps. He hadn’t questioned her insistence on moving back to this little Amish speck in the road—because he’d been laughing all the way to the bank with his hefty commission.
    Just like Hiram’s laughing. Waiting for this situation to explode in your face.
    “Get a grip,” Nora muttered. Then she realized she’d been talking to herself ever since the moving van had pulled away an hour ago. Maybe, along with plunking down all her money on this big, impractical piece of property, she was also losing her mind.
    She stirred her soup, reminding herself that she’d handled far worse crises than a hissing gas stove and living alone. Tanner had traveled more than he’d stayed home—before he’d announced he was divorcing her to hook up with someone else. Someone more sophisticated and interesting , he’d said.
    Nora swiped at her eyes, stirring faster as the soup bubbled in the pan. It was the stress of moving—the overwhelming prospect of unpacking all these boxes—that was upsetting her. Not to mention how dead her mother had looked in that bed, in that dreary house with all the windows shut tight.
    Toughen up. This is nothing compared to living at Aunt Elva’s and giving birth at sixteen, when you were clueless and scared to death. If you’re to ask forgiveness for dropping Millie on Atlee’s doorstep, you’ve got to face them all. Are you ready for that?
    Not a day had gone by that Nora hadn’t regretted abandoning her baby, but she’d been too young and upset to foresee the consequences—afraid she’d spend the rest of her miserable life without any way to support a child, beholden to her mother’s maidel sister. She’d also been too terrified to name the man who’d taken advantage of her, because he’d promised she’d go straight to hell if she did.
    You came back for Millie. To make amends . . . to tell her you love her. She’s the reason you’ll endure whatever flak they throw at you.
    What sort of a girl had Millie grown up to be? Had she done well in school? Was she happy, with lots of friends? How had she handled the chip on Atlee’s shoulder— and what if Dat never claimed her as his granddaughter? What if they all poisoned Millie’s mind against you, so she’ll never want to—
    Nora stiffened as male voices drifted through the kitchen window.
    “. . . better keep your paws off her, Ira, because I saw her first.”
    When she caught sight of her too-friendly neighbor Luke approaching with a shorter fellow, who was dressed in black-and-white church clothes, Nora groaned. Wolves coming to the door, ready to paw at her, indeed.
    Note to self: get real curtains. The narrow pulled-back panels at the edges of each window were so Amish, because they bespoke total openness and allowed no secrets—yet another irony in her life. But if she closed the windows and kept full-size curtains drawn against Luke’s curiosity, she’d get claustrophobic and die of the heat. And why, again, did you