The Sweetness of Honey (A Hope Springs Novel Book 3) Read online

  The arts center was Angelo’s wife Luna’s pet project. Luna had established the nonprofit in honor of Sierra Caffey, Angelo’s sister and Luna’s best friend, who’d died days into her senior year of high school, and in honor of Oliver’s brother, Oscar, who’d spent the last decade unresponsive at the Hope Springs Rehab Institute. Sierra had been the passenger in the car Oscar had been driving when he’d lost control and the car had plunged down a ravine.

  The couple had been accomplished cellists, both studying at St. Thomas Prep, Sierra on a scholarship to the elite private school. Luna’s goal was to give more children than those who could afford the St. Thomas tuition the same opportunity to study music and art. Oliver had originally mocked the idea. He’d mocked a lot of things in the ten years before learning the truth of the accident. Now he served on the academy’s board, though he wasn’t sure his involvement wasn’t too little too late.

  “Saw her where?” Tennessee asked.

  “Here.” Oliver returned to the present and gestured over his shoulder toward the door. “Out front.”

  “Was she looking for me?” Ten’s gaze moved beyond Oliver as if he expected to see Indiana enter the room.

  Interesting that Ten hadn’t made the connection between his sister, Hiram Glass, and the big “For Sale by Owner” sign she hadn’t yet removed from the property’s edge. Which meant he had no idea she’d taken the house and land off Hiram’s hands. “She was looking at the acreage across the street.”

  Frowning, Ten tossed the tape measure into his toolbox, then set his hands at his hips. “Hiram’s place?”

  “It was.” Ten’s frown deepened as Oliver crossed the newly sanded hardwood floor and headed for the adjoining kitchen. “It’s her place now.”

  Ten followed, the thud of his work boots echoing through the rooms. “What are you talking about?”

  “Then you didn’t know,” Oliver said, finding a clean latte mug in the dishwasher and turning on the espresso machine.

  Ten braced a hand on the kitchen counter. “I knew the property was for sale. I didn’t know Indiana bought it. If that’s what you’re saying.”

  Oliver nodded, popped a coffee capsule into its slot, and hit the start button. The machine steamed and groaned as it forced water through the tightly packed grind. “It is.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” Ten crossed his arms, leaning back, his frown now trained in the direction of the front door. “Her farm is in Buda. She lives in Buda. Why would she buy that much land in Hope Springs?”

  “I can tell you what she told me. Or you could walk across the street and ask her yourself.” Oliver knew which Ten would choose. Though he’d reconciled with his sister after what Oliver understood to be a lot of years, Ten had yet to give up his loner mentality. Even his relationship with Kaylie Flynn hadn’t quite socialized him. Probably why he and Oliver got along so well. Their conversations required no more than a verbal shorthand, and each knew to respect the other man’s space.

  “Unless it’s something I should hear from the horse’s mouth, why don’t you run it down?” Ten’s response was exactly as predicted. “I’ll walk over when I break in a few for lunch.”

  Oliver returned to the table, his tablet PC, and the financial software he was using to keep track of the arts center’s expenses. He snapped the removable keyboard into place and sat, pulling the sheaf of receipts to be recorded in front of him. “She told me she was a friend of Hiram’s, and that she’d bought the place. She also remembered seeing me at Luna and Angelo’s reception.”

  “And?”

  “That was it.” Oliver brought his mug to his mouth to sip, and used it to hide the smirk he couldn’t quite help. Ten always took himself so seriously, but then Oliver was no better at lightening up.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I never said I could answer your question.”

  Ten muttered several choice words that turned Oliver’s smirk into a smile, then returned to the cabinets in the living room, leaving Oliver alone with his coffee and his spreadsheets and his musings about Indiana Keller.

  The first time he’d seen her had been at the Caffeys’ reception. They hadn’t spoken. They hadn’t been introduced. He may have said “Excuse me” as he walked by her, but even that memory wasn’t clear.

  The one that was came from later that night. She’d been across the room talking to Luna. He’d been talking to Angelo and Luna’s father, Harry, about the loft Luna had purchased in the converted textile warehouse—the original brick, the original windows, the investment versus resale value.

  But his eyes had been on Indiana the entire time. At least until Will Bowman had walked into the picture, his face, as he’d accompanied her to the kitchen for a bottle of wine, close to hers in a way that said they were more than friends. That was when Oliver had looked away. He didn’t intrude on another man’s interest, though his conversation with Indiana this morning left him wondering whether he’d been mistaken about that.

  She hadn’t seemed in a hurry to cross the street to Bowman. And what the other man was doing over there instead of working over here with Ten left Oliver frowning. But how Ten chose to run his business was none of Oliver’s, so he let it go. He’d learned early to observe without interfering; doing so had served him well.

  At least, most of the time it had served him well.

  He preferred not to think about the one time he didn’t step in when he should have. What it had cost him. What it had cost his family.

  The price his brother had paid.

  CHAPTER TWO

  In a comparison that seemed strangely apropos, the wild mess of her new acreage reminded Indiana of her personal life. Maybe not the first fifteen years, though certainly a hefty portion of the decade that followed. But this last? She’d done a good job of hiding the turmoil, staying as busy as her bees to keep it at bay, but it was there, the roots deep and holding fast.

  The yard around Hiram’s cottage, now her cottage, had been busy, too, and seemingly for almost as long. The weeds were out of control, growing where flowers should have been, where grass once had been; the paths Hiram had once carefully cleared were just gone. She, at least, did a decent job of controlling her internal chaos. The property defined chaos, and not a bit of it controlled.

  Trash cluttered the yard, blown there or thrown there; she had no way of knowing. It made what would otherwise have been a case of nature gone wild an eyesore. An overgrown plot, perfect in its own right, but flawed as a manageable lawn. Damaged. That might never again be as good as it once was. Too many seeds that didn’t belong had found their way to the ground, sprouting where they weren’t wanted, stealing resources, demanding rights.

  The back of the lot that separated the cottage from the bees was a jungle of more than plants. There were insects and reptiles and amphibians. Squirrels and rabbits and what she was certain was a feral cat who shared his or her hunting grounds with any number of birds of prey. The cat won on that score; Indiana had seen freshly scattered feathers and savaged carcasses more than once as she’d walked the grounds.

  She’d thought for years now that she had a handle on how best to nurture the parts of her that had been broken all those years ago. With her degree and her business, she’d thought she’d built a quite solid foundation. She’d thought that missteps might shake her, but never cause her to fall. That whatever garbage still clung would dry up and flutter away. That she could manage the mayhem. That she was fine.

  She’d learned plenty of coping skills after her assault, and really, she had no right to be weak. So many other women had gone through so much worse and survived, though she imagined the number who’d lost touch with both of their brothers in the process was small. That’s why the sound of Tennessee’s voice last spring, the first time she’d heard it in years, had been like a plow, digging beneath the surface she showed the world to the truth of all t
hat festered. Months later, and she’d yet to smooth out what had been disturbed.

  Having lost Will somewhere on their tour around the cottage, she pushed aside a tall bunch of weeds and stepped into the clearing where he’d parked, only to find Tennessee standing there instead. “Hey, you,” she said, feeling her smile to her toes. “What’re you doing over here?”

  “Looking for you,” he said, nodding beyond her shoulder toward Will, who was just emerging from the jungle that had been Hiram’s backyard. “And him.”

  “How did you know where I was?” Indiana ducked away from a bee buzzing her face, then answered her own question. “Oliver told you he saw me, didn’t he?”

  Tennessee pulled his gaze from Will, who’d said nothing as he’d stopped at her side, and frowned down at her. “Yeah, and I’m glad he did or I wouldn’t have known you’d bought the place.”

  “I had every intention of telling you.” She’d missed her brother so much during their estrangement, though he was the one who’d removed himself from her life. But this Tennessee, stiff and severe and ready to pass judgment, was not exactly her favorite person. “I wanted to wait until everything was settled. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  He didn’t even give that time to sink in, but said, “You didn’t want me talking you out of it, you mean?”

  That was when Will stepped forward. “Why would you want to talk her out of it?”

  Her brother bristled. “Your business is across the street, Will. Not here.”

  Really? Did they have to do this today? Indiana reached up to push her hair from her face. “Actually, he has business here, too. I asked him to stop by this morning.” Though only if he had time—an instruction he’d obviously ignored.

  “To do what?”

  It was tell-all time, whether she was ready or not. “I wanted Will to walk the property with me, and to look at Hiram’s cottage. I’m going to set up a greenhouse annex here, with Keller Construction’s help, I hope. I’ll grow heirloom vegetables to sell at local farmers markets, along with the honey from the bees.”

  “What happened to IJK Gardens?” Tennessee asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the rear quarter panel of Will’s truck. “You get tired of selling produce to local grocers?”

  “No. I didn’t get tired of selling produce to local grocers. That’s my bread and butter.” She didn’t need to be defensive. She’d done nothing wrong; in fact, she was finally doing everything right, involving Tennessee in her life, insisting he allow her into his. “If you’d like to hear about my plans, I’m happy to take you and Kaylie to dinner and share.”

  “And Will?” Will asked.

  “You just heard most of my plans,” she said, brushing him off to get back to Tennessee.

  But her brother didn’t miss a beat. “So you told him before you told me.”

  “Uh-uh. Don’t even . . .” Head canted, she jammed her hands at her hips and considered the man and his attitude. “Dinner or not?”

  “Sure. When?”

  “What’s good for you and Kaylie?”

  “Tonight?”

  Did that mean he was anxious to hear her out, or that he wanted to shoot her down as soon as he could? And why did she automatically jump to such an uncharitable conclusion where Tennessee was involved?

  She hated feeling as if she needed to defend her life—or her actions—to her brother. Because that’s what this was: Tennessee trying to keep her safe, if even from herself, while she proved to him she didn’t need a keeper. It wasn’t rocket science, figuring this out, what with the history they shared.

  “Tonight then,” she told him, which earned her a nod. “Malina’s? Or one of the places out on the freeway?”

  He cocked his head while considering his options, a gesture so similar to hers that emotion choked her. “There’s a new steak house just south of the Hope Springs exit. I’ve been wanting to give that a try. If that works for you.”

  “Perfect,” she said, clearing her throat. “Eight thirty okay? I’ve got a lot on my plate today, and I’ll need to run home and clean up—”

  “If tonight’s not convenient—”

  “Tonight’s just fine,” she cut him off to say. Whatever was bugging him—and she was certain it was more than her expanding her business into Hope Springs—the sooner they worked it out the better.

  She’d been without her brother, her brothers, for almost half her life. She would not lose another minute to something as inconsequential as a supposed inconvenience. “I’ll meet you there.”

  He nodded, rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, then gave a jerk of his chin toward the cottage. “You want to show me around your place?”

  And that made her smile.

  “Knock, knock?” Indiana called later that morning, having pulled open her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s kitchen door. Tennessee lived in the three-story Victorian, too, but the house had Kaylie written all over it, as if Tennessee were still trying to fit in.

  She supposed in a sense he was. Before Kaylie, he’d been alone a long time, living at the end of Grath Avenue, working insane hours. Rebuffing the family he still had in the area. Including her.

  Why he thought keeping his distance would prevent further hurt . . .

  Shaking her head at her brother’s idea of penance, she took a deep breath, and swore she smelled warm brownies. She let the screen slam behind her and glanced at the countertops, but she was too early. The goodies were giving off their killer aroma from the oven as they baked.

  She was studying the timer when Kaylie walked in. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Deciding if I can stay till these are done. It looks like . . . eight more minutes?”

  Kaylie laughed. “Eight to finish baking, then thirty, at least, to cool before cutting. That’s the secret, you know. Letting them set.”

  Indiana considered her must-dos for the rest of the day, and decided everything could wait. “I think I can spare thirty-eight minutes for my favorite sister-in-law-to-be.”

  Another laugh, bubbly and infectious and true. “For your favorite sister-in-law-to-be’s new brownie recipe, you mean?”

  New ones. Ooh. “I make an awesome taste-tester.”

  Kaylie grinned at that. “Ah, so you and your brother share that trait.”

  That she wouldn’t know. Their mother hadn’t been much of a baker. Or much of a mother, for that matter. “Did he call you about dinner tonight?”

  “About dinner.” Kaylie’s ponytail swung when she nodded. “And about you buying Hiram Glass’s property.”

  Of course he would’ve already told her. They shared everything in a way few couples did. “I was going to surprise you both with that, but made the mistake of talking to Oliver Gatlin.”

  Kaylie reached for a toothpick and a long oven mitt. “What does Oliver have to do with anything? Where did you see him?”

  “At the arts center.” Indiana turned to open the screen door, having heard Magoo whimper. Kaylie’s dog came into the kitchen and nuzzled Indiana’s hand, sniffed the air, then trotted back to the mudroom and his water bowl. “I was waiting for Will, so I walked across to the school’s driveway to look at the lot from there. He came out when he saw me.”

  Having donned the mitt, Kaylie pulled open the oven door to check the brownies’ doneness. “And you were waiting for Will why? I thought he was working at the school with Ten?”

  “He is.” Though not to Tennessee’s standards, judging by her brother’s annoyance with his employee. “I’d asked him to walk the property with me. His ideas for the school were absolutely spot-on. And have you seen what he’s done so far with Luna and Angelo’s barn? I wanted to get his impression of the cottage, and what I might do with it.”

  “And? What did he think?”

  “Actually,” she said, laughing to herself at the realization, “we never talked about it.
We looked around, and when we were done, Tennessee was there, so Will headed across the street to work. Tennessee was not exactly thrilled that I had hijacked his workforce.”

  Kaylie was shaking her head as she closed the oven door. “I would say I don’t know why he puts up with Will, but the truth is, Will’s brilliant, and Ten can’t afford to lose him. Not with his current workload. Besides Will, he’s only got three men on the payroll. Too many of the regular applicants want more than he can pay, or don’t have the right experience.”

  Regular applicants. Meaning they weren’t ex-cons. “Manny hasn’t been sending him anyone else to help out?”

  “It’s been a few weeks,” Kaylie said, resetting the oven timer for two minutes. “I guess none of Manny’s new parolees fit Ten’s criteria.”

  Tennessee’s agreement with Dakota’s former parole officer, who was Will’s parole officer now, was that he’d give a leg up to men who, like Dakota, and obviously like Will, had done the wrong thing but for the right reason and served their time. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “It’s not good for Ten, that’s for sure,” Kaylie said as she set about brewing a pot of coffee. “He needs the manpower desperately. I can’t help thinking how different things would be for him if he and Dakota had gone into business together as planned.”

  Indiana had entertained similar thoughts about what life would’ve been like had her oldest brother stayed close. Which brought her back to why she was here. “I really did stop for a reason other than your brownies.”

  “And a reason other than seeing me?”

  Guilty as charged, she mused, boosting up onto a stool at the kitchen island. “Tell me about the investigator you hired to find your mother. Was he affordable? Efficient? Is he still working for you? You haven’t said anything about his finding her . . .” Indiana let the sentence trail, because Kaylie had yet to respond, and her expression was as pained as her face was pale, which hadn’t been Indiana’s intent at all. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up—”