Demons

Dedication

This book is dedicated in loving memory of my mother, Dolores.

She was the person responsible not only for my eye color, that darn squinty eye when I smile and my warped sense of humor, but also for my love of reading and writing. She encouraged me to follow my dreams and believed in me, no matter what.

Until we meet again, Mom…I love you.

Acknowledgments

To my husband, Todd: You are my one and only. It seems as if we’ve been through it all since we met back in 1987. Thank you for taking this journey with me and not complaining too terribly much when I had nothing ready for dinner, or didn’t do the dishes, or the laundry, or didn’t come to bed, because I was too busy writing this book.

To my three girls, the Teen and twins, Frick & Frack: You are my pride and joy! Thank you for putting up with your crazy mother who laughed and cried at her own writing, and was sometimes just too damn tired to remember your real names. I thank God every day that He blessed me with the three of you, and I am giddy that you all inherited my humor, and my love for Starbucks. The three of you look more like your dad, than me, but I know my genes are in there…somewhere.

To my awesome betas, Starla, Debbie, Heather, and Shannon (who is also my kick-ass gun expert!): Thank you for not laughing at my first drafts, my gazillion typos, or the S-E-X scenes…I’m still blushing- seriously! The feedback you provided made me want to continue and see this book through to fruition. I hope you all love the final draft as much as I do!

To my first round editors, Shannon and Briana: What can I say? I gave you both a ton to read and a ton more to correct and you both totally rocked it! Thank you for the countless hours you put into Jase and Cassie’s story. Not only did you both take on the arduous task of proofreading, but you also helped me find the right words when I just couldn’t think of them, and never once complained.

To my final editor, Brenda: You took my ‘I just couldn’t leave well enough alone’ and fixed it, and then helped me make this story even better. Thank you, a million times over! I feel so very lucky to have found you! I hope this is just the beginning for us.

To the Holsonback-Master family: Thank you for letting me steal your chickens’ names for this book. The brood will be making another appearance in book two…with a love interest, no less.

I must thank my high school English teacher, Bill Mad Man Madigan, as he was also instrumental in nurturing my love of writing. I will never forget his charismatic way of teaching- think Robin William’s character in The Dead Poet’s Society (go on and Google that, if you have no clue, I’ll wait…). Standing on our desk seat was not out of the norm in his class, and he made us want to read and write. Thank you, Mad Man Madigan, wherever you are. I will never forget you. Channeling my inner Taylor Swift, you were my best teacher- like, EVER.

I would like to recognize the following copyrights and/or trademarks used in this book: MacGyver, Survivorman, Duck Dynasty, Keurig, K-cup, Tazo, Starbucks, Donut Shop, Wranglers. Prius, Chevy, BF Goodrich, Lexus, Garanimals, Sig Sauer, Coke, Gatorade, Red Bull, Always maxi pads, Hershey, iPhone, Caracal, Spanx, Victoria’s Secret, JELL-O, Porsche, and Boppy. Don’t ask, just go with it.

Author’s Note

Dear readers: I feel the need to state that this book intended for mature readers, as it contains adult language (yes, my characters and I have potty-mouths), adult situations (as in my fifteen year old is not allowed to read this book until she much older, like maybe thirty), and finally, there are a few scenes that might be a little intense for some readers, or be considered a ‘hot-button’ topic. Now that I have that out of the way, I cannot thank you enough for taking a chance on this brand new author. I had written a whole different spiel for this, but then I decided to re-write it, twice. I do that a lot. If you haven’t already figured it out, my passion for writing came from my mom, whom I lost to undiagnosed lymphoma in June of 2011. She had a great sense of humor and always looked for the good in life. If life handed her lemons, she wouldn’t make lemonade – that was too passé for her. Nope, she’d huck them right back at life and say, Take that! Okay, okay, actually she’d yell, Up yours, but that’s because she was born and raised in New York, prior to moving to California with my dad. Yup, having a native New Yorker for a mother was never dull…or boring…or quiet.

Along with writing, I got my love of reading and talking from her. I write too much (ask my Facebook friends), I read too much (ask my husband), and I talk too much (kind of like now). My mom, however, was also fearless. Unfortunately, I missed the DNA express train with that one. Years ago, I wrote an entire book…in my head. She kept telling me to ‘write the damn thing down- for real’, but I kept chickening out. Until last summer, that is. Heck, I figured I’d already gotten two tattoos and completed two half-marathons in the two years since she’d died, so it was time for the next step. If you only understood my fear of unnecessary pain from needles and my deep hatred for extended periods of physical activity, then you’d know how HUGE those two hurdles were for me. Since I really like my tattoos, and the half-marathon thing is pretty kick-ass too, I decided it was finally time to sit down and write my book ‘for real.’

However, while watching an episode of Duck Dynasty with my family one night, the idea for a different book took shape. Jase parked himself in my head – MY Jase, not that other Jase- and he wouldn’t leave. Cassie soon joined him, and they drove me totally nuts with their bickering. Late one night, I sat down and started writing their story…and I couldn’t stop. After three months of living on very little sleep, numerous gallons of Chai tea lattes, and watching my house fall apart around me, I had written Jase and Cassie’s story. After another few months of re-writing and editing and more re-writing, here I am, presenting my very first book to you. For us- that’s me, Jase, and Cassie- this book is about driving out the demons that held us captive for too long. I hope that you will come to love Jase and Cassie as much as I do, but if you don’t, that’s okay with me. Thank you, at least, for giving me a chance to yell, Up yours! to my fears, and allow me to fulfill my dream of writing my first book.

R.J.

Music

Music is very important in my life. My Nana sang for the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and my mom had a beautiful voice, too. Sadly, I didn’t get that gene either (it must be linked to the fearless gene), and my girls often say, "Mom, please, stop singing." I just sing louder. As I wrote about Jase & Cassie, these were the songs that inspired parts of their characters or their scenes…

Jase’s Songs

Demons by Imagine Dragons

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWRsgZuwf_8

Cruise by Florida Georgia Line

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PvebsWcpto

Knock You Down by Keri Hilson, feat. Kanye West & Ne-Yo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_RqWocthcc

God Gave Me You by Blake Shelton

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCf2PoTuh4Q

Cassie’s Songs

Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKar-tF__ac

Take Over Control by Afrojack, feat. Eva Simons

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOZXMjbKD_w

See You Again by Carrie Underwood

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTnWFT3DvVA

If I Didn’t Have You by Thompson Square

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UptgRHX4JsI

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Author’s Note

Music

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Preview of Book 2

Chapter 1

What the hell? Another drive by? She and Ethan were going to have to move out of L.A. soon, Cassie thought sleepily. Her short-lived peaceful sleep had just been interrupted by the rata-tat-tat of gunfire. Not right out front, but damn near close enough. She instinctively rolled out of bed, and planned to keep low on the floor. However, she landed on wood, and not on the carpet that her body had expected.

Damn! Reality hit hard - as in hardwood floor hard. It was then, in her sleep deprived state, that she realized she was no longer in her and Ethan’s first apartment in Los Angeles. Crap, that was over 5 years ago.

Nor was she in the spacious Brentwood home they’d bought the following year, or in the condo she and the girls moved into after her divorce from Ethan. Oh yeah, we’re divorced…and he’s re-married.

Ah, yes, Cassie was now in her new ‘old’ farmhouse she fell in love with two months ago, in Blossom Grove, California, the idyllic little farm town just northeast of San Diego. As the fog began to lift from her brain, all of that hit like a ton of bricks and Cassie began to freak out. She grabbed the cordless phone off the nightstand, and dialed ‘9-1-1.’

The dispatcher came on the line informing her she’d reached the Sheriff’s Department and asked what her emergency was.

Someone’s shooting! Outside! she yelled.

Ma’am, I see you’re calling from 82 Mulberry Lane – the old Potts Farm. Are you by chance the new owner?

W-what? Yes I am, but people are shooting outside my house! Can we possibly save the introductions for later?

"Um, ma’am, you do know that the property next door to you has an outdoor shooting range, right?"

"What part of people are shooting outside my house do you not understand?"

Ma’am, did you hear what I just said? You live next door to a shooting range.

I WHAT?

The dispatcher sighed heavily. You live. Next door. To a shooting range.

Good God! Who goes target shooting at the crack of dawn? asked Cassie wearily. And more importantly, why is there a shooting range in a residential area?

Um, ma’am, it’s a bit after 7 AM, so not the crack of dawn in this town. And well, this isn’t the big city. People do things a bit differently around here, the dispatcher said trying to control a snicker. City folk!

Crack of dawn or 7 AM, it’s the same thing when you go to bed at 3 AM, Cassie mumbled. Are you going to send someone out or not?

Well that would be a ‘not,’ ma’am. No one’s breaking any rules, and nobody’s been hurt, so there’s nothin’ the sheriff would do. Unless of course, you want to file a complaint? he asked with a hint of apprehension in his voice.

She really didn’t want to do that. She was tired and cranky but she wasn’t that kind of neighbor. No, I don’t want to file a complaint…thank you, though.

Well, the boys should be done in a bit, so if that’s all...I’m sure Mrs. Collins has heard it too, and will be calling any moment convinced the area is under attack, he sighed again.

Cassie sighed too, Alright, thank you again. Sorry to have bothered you.

No problem. Oh and ma’am, welcome to Blossom Grove.

It had been a long night in her new place, and she had only wanted a few decent hours of sleep and then a peaceful awakening to the sounds of nature. Instead she felt as if she were in the middle of a war zone, and quite possibly in her own version of Doc Hollywood.

She hung up the phone and said out loud to no one, A shooting range? A friggin shooting range? What the hell did I get us into?

She wracked her brain trying to remember what her realtor had told her. She was pretty sure the term shooting range never came up. The neighboring property was owned by a family- the Mac something or other. They farmed land for something, what though she had no clue, while also running a weekend survival camp of sorts for white collared executives.

Cassie didn’t think, even in her sleep deprived state, that shooting semi-automatic guns at sunrise was a skill most executives would need for survival. More like catching fish with only dental floss and a paper clip, or building a campfire from two pieces of wood and pocket lint - those were survival skills a man could use. You know, MacGyver type crap, or the stuff like what Survivorman did.

Cassie knew her guns, and was pretty handy with them too, so she was sure she could tell what kind ‘the boys’ had been using. It was her firm opinion that if you needed a semi-automatic weapon to hunt, you probably shouldn’t be hunting in the first place. So she hoped like hell that they kept their guests confined to the shooting range, and didn’t actually let them take those guns out onto the property. She didn’t much like the idea of some office executive traipsing near her property, fully armed, playing Rambo, or acting like the Robertson clan from Duck Dynasty.

***

Well, that should do the trick. Jason MacLane smirked, and he broke down his Barrett M82 rifle. "I’d bet my left nut Miss Hollywood is wide awake now," he laughed.

Yeah, let’s see how she likes living next door to a bunch of hicks, joked Justin, the youngest of the MacLane sons.

I bet when she gets a load of us, she’ll feel like she landed in that Billy Currington song - ‘She had to be thinking’, this is where rednecks come from,’ sang Josh, the second of the four boys.

When Jake, MacLane son number three, began ranting about how his Knight’s SR-25 sniper rifle was way better than the pansy-ass guns the rest of his brothers had, Jason tuned him out. He found he was once again staring at the house - the house that should have been his. Maryann had wanted it so badly. But when she died, that dream died too. Not long ago, he saw the property was finally up for sale. He was bound and determined to buy it…and then destroy it. After all, Maryann’s dream apparently hadn’t included him.

Hey, dipshit, Jake yelled, Mom’s blueberry muffins should be done by now. You’d better light a fire under your sorry ass, and get a move on with your gun. Oh, and take my advice, Jase - forget the house."

Fuck you, Jacob, barked Jason.

"My, my, such big words from my big brother," chided Jake. Although he was two and a half years younger than Jason, Jake was a few inches taller, and had a few more pounds of muscle on him. He and Jason, however, always had each other’s backs. Of the three brothers, Jake knew best that losing the house to another buyer had almost killed Jason. But only Josh knew the reason as to why Jason wanted it so badly. Jake hoped that maybe someday, Jason would explain it all to him.

Justin noticed that Jason had been looking at the house again, too. For some unknown reason, Jason had wanted to buy the old Potts Farm more than he wanted his next breath. Jason had put in the very first offer, but then another buyer countered it. Jason bumped his offer, but the other buyer must have offered more. The next thing they knew, a ‘sold’ sign went up, and Jason went right back into that dark hole – the one he’d crawled into after his world imploded. What the hell happened to you, bro? And why won’t you tell me? Justin mumbled to himself.

Hey, y’all can sit around here like a group of old farts scratching your asses, but I’m going to get Mom’s muffins. Maybe I’ll even leave a few, warned Josh, as he took off running. The three remaining men, realizing that they could be left totally muffinless if they didn’t haul ass, secured their rifles and took off in a dead sprint to catch up. They’d be damned if they missed out on any of their mom’s muffins, which were so deliciously addicting they were like little bundles of fresh baked goodness on crack. Unbeknownst to them, their mother hadn’t appreciated their little stunt, and she had other plans for the muffins.

***

Cassie had her ‘A-ha’ moment, lying there on the hardwood floor. She probably ruffled some feathers when she out bid – no, make that waaaay outbid the Mac whatever family. She’d probably pissed somebody off, and from the sound of it, pretty royally too. The realtor told her that one of sons had wanted to add Mr. Potts’ farmland to their already enormous acreage. Too bad for them, Cassie had other plans.

When she happened upon the farm while visiting her ex-in laws two months ago, at Christmas time, she just knew THIS was where she wanted to raise her girls. She didn’t like that it was far away from their father, but his career had hit the stratosphere, and he hadn’t had much time for them when he was a ‘nobody’ – so why would it change now? Plus, his new wife didn’t seem to care much for children, but Cassie suspected that was because she couldn’t have any of her own.

And speaking of children…Mr. Potts’ kids had detested working on the farm, but loved that Cassie had no intention of destroying the fully functioning farm, whereas the other buyer had plans to raze the property. The fact that she willingly paid so much over the asking price hadn’t hurt matters either. Hell, she had Ethan’s money to burn, and she had no qualms doing so. He owed her that much. Yup, it was time for a new chapter in her life and the money she received in her divorce settlement allowed her to do just that.

She still had enough left over for the inevitable repairs and upgrades she’d envisioned for this place. She had plans to re-open the organic farm stand, and add a gift shop where people could buy her line of natural body products. She also wanted to add a community garden-slash-picnic area where families could gather on the weekends. In her mind it was kind of a mix between two places in San Diego that she loved to visit - a ‘farm’ in Lakeside that sold hand crafted soaps and such, and a produce farm located in Chula Vista, that sold its goods at local farmer’s markets. At least she hoped she could combine the two and make a decent living doing something she enjoyed.

After finding out from her realtor what her neighbors kind of did, her second hope was that the businessmen, who went there for the weekend, would stop off at her place on their way back home. She could see them picking up some fresh produce, and maybe even a gift or two for their wives or girlfriends. It sounded like a great idea in her head…if only she knew what the hell she was getting herself into.

Maybe that was the welcoming committee, she muttered, as she dragged her ass up off the floor, and stretched her very sore muscles.

Chapter 2

She was pretty damn certain her neighbors saw her drive in with the moving truck right behind her yesterday. The old farmhouse sat a bit off of the road facing west, with the farm land essentially in her backyard. The neighbor’s compound had a main house that sat at the end of the road facing north, but they owned all the property surrounding their house - except, of course, for Potts Farm.

Cassie’s property ran parallel to one portion of their land, and their main house sat at an angle to hers, so they had to have seen her arrive. Plus, she had every freaking light on in the house well into the wee hours. Cassie was pretty sure people could see her house lit up in the next town over. The old Country song Every Light in the House by Trace Adkins kept running through her head last night, but she’d had a lot to do, and as usual, she had to do it all on her own.

She’d been up half the night cleaning and painting the empty upstairs rooms, and did her best to unpack the necessities downstairs. Her goal was to get the house in order for when her ex in-laws brought her girls home later in the day. She wanted their new home to feel like just like that - home, from the moment they walked in the front door.

Looking longingly at her warm bed, Cassie reluctantly decided against climbing back into it. I might as well get up and get the day started, she grumbled. There’s still a shit-load more to do.

She was glad she’d had enough forethought to unpack her Keurig machine and set it up the night before. She needed caffeine ASAP. And food. Well, she had plenty of the caffeine, but not much in the way of edible sustenance, so a trip out for groceries was next on her list. She slipped on her warm fuzzy socks - who cared if they didn’t match; they still did their job - and then made a pit stop in the bathroom.

Cassie was pleased to find the house was fairly warm for it being the end of February, and that her shorts and tank top would do just fine. But then again, winter in San Diego meant maybe long pants and a hoodie. Very few areas in San Diego, except for Julian or Mt. Laguna actually got real winter weather – as in snow. However, the area surrounding Blossom Grove was known for its overnight lows, especially when an unusual cold front hit. Currently, however, it was unseasonably warm, which was another problem that San Diego, and its neighboring areas, had been dealing with lately.

Cassie was just glad she only needed to add socks to her ensemble this morning. Lack of sleep made getting dressed pretty hazardous to her body, and she even managed to get down the stairs without hurting herself. She headed into the kitchen and directly for the caffeine. She plopped a Tazo Awake tea K-cup into the machine, stuck her mug under the dispenser, hit brew and waited. Mere moments later, she was greeted with a perfectly brewed cup of tea. After she added sugar and milk, which was how her mom used to drink it too, she was happy to at least be getting her caffeine fix. She’d kill for a Starbucks Venti-no water-Chai tea latte right now, but sadly hot tea would just have to do.

A knock at her front door had her momentarily startled. She wasn’t expecting the girls for at least 5 hours, and she wasn’t anywhere near being open for business, so who in the hell could be at her door at, she squinted at the clock on her Keurig, at 7:28 AM? On a Thursday morning, no less. Happy she was at least presentable in her old University of San Diego flannel shorts and an oversized, not too clingy around the middle, hides the tummy, cami tank top, she walked quietly through the kitchen and into the living room. Cassie stopped dead at the door, and tried to figure out how to proceed. Well, hell, this is new, she thought.

She was a woman all alone, in a new house, in a new town. Granted it was pretty much like she’d landed in Mayberry and was fairly confident people around here didn’t even lock their doors. But Cassie was from a big city, and there you could never be too safe. There was no peep hole in the front door, and pulling back the curtains to peek out the window just seemed rude.

Wh-Who is it? Cassie squeaked out as she grabbed her sweater off of the coat rack next to the front door and put it on. She may be decent in shorts and a tank top, but decorum dictated she cover up just a bit more for a total stranger.

To her relief, a woman’s voice answered. I’m Betsy MacLane, your neighbor from next door, so to speak.

MacLane! That’s it! Cassie yelled to herself.

Betsy continued, I didn’t mean to just drop in on you, but I assume that my asinine sons probably just scared the living shit out of you with their juvenile prank of a wake-up call, so I really wanted to come over and apologize for that. If it helps any, I figured you’d be up and I brought some fresh baked muffins as a peace offering?

Cassie heard ‘fresh baked’ and ‘muffins,’ and had the deadbolt unlatched and the door thrown open in record time. She had just about snatched the basket of muffins out of Mrs. MacLane’s hands when her brain kicked in.

Oh my God, I am so hungry! I could just hug you! said Cassie who quickly regained her faculties, took a breath then added, Oh hell, where are my manners, Mrs. MacLane? I’m Cassandra Middleton, but everyone calls me Cassie. Please, come in. I’m sorry about the mess, but I’m still cleaning and unpacking.

Thank you, I’d love to come in, she smiled as she stepped inside carrying an enormous basket. The aroma wafting from it made Cassie’s mouth water and she actually wiped her chin to make she hadn’t drooled.

I saw your lights were on when I got up to get some water around one this morning. Figured it was a late night for you. I was up baking well before my sons decided to give you that lovely morning wake-up call, Betsy said, rolling her eyes at that last part. "Plus, Fred, the sheriff’s dispatcher you spoke to this morning called me and thought that I might want to check in on you. He said you sounded upset, and suggested I take my full grown sons over my knee for a good spanking, but I’m afraid that sadly, they might enjoy that now that they are grown men. And, I don’t even want to go there. She shuddered then added, In a mother’s eyes, her sons will always be her little boys…plus, I have a better plan already in motion," Betsy winked as she lifted up the basket. Cassie chuckled and decided that she liked Mrs. MacLane already.

Would you like some tea or some coffee, Mrs. MacLane?

Please, call me Betsy, and I would love either.

Cassie led the way into the kitchen and said, Well, I’m a tea drinker, so I have two different black teas, green tea, and mint tea. However, I’m not one to discriminate, so for coffee I have a Starbucks blend, the ever so popular Donut Shop, a regular breakfast blend, and even a Columbian blend decaf.

Betsy laughed, My, my, you have so many choices. But, I think I still need more coffee this morning and the breakfast blend sounds delish.

Cassie brewed the cup for Betsy, and they sat down at the wooden farm table to eat, once Betsy had her cup of coffee doctored just the way she liked it.

So that’s the snazzy machine my sons have told me about. It only brews one cup at a time, right?

Yes, but there are a gazillion of choices from tea to coffee to hot chocolate, and even iced beverage drinks. If you drink coffee by the pot, though, this thing is not for you - unless you have money to burn.

"Oh, but that is a damn good cup of coffee," Betsy said after taking another sip.

It’s pretty good for tea, too – even without using the traditional method of steeping. The only thing I hate is that these K-cups aren’t recyclable. But I discovered they do make great little seed starting cups.

Word around town is that you plan on keeping the farm stand open. So are you into farming then?

"Uh well, I like plants, but it’s more of a gardening thing rather than a farming thing. I’m not what you’d call a farmer by any means. I do have a Bachelor’s degree in Biology, though, from the University of San Diego and I went on to get my PhD in plant pathology from UC Davis. I attended Davis with my younger sister, Beth, who was there for undergrad studies on her way to becoming a vet. I spent the last five years in Los Angeles, but we needed a change of scenery and pace, so we got the hell out of Dodge."

Even though it was common practice to poke one’s nose into everyone’s business in Blossom Grove, Cassie was new to the town, so Betsy tried to restrain herself. Not wanting to pry any further, she quickly changed the subject. Looking around her former neighbor’s home she said, I see you still have some of the old Potts’ furniture?

Yeah, I asked his kids if they would mind leaving some things, and they were more than happy to. That way I only had to move the necessities. The rest of the stuff stayed with my ex-husband in L.A..

Crap, Betsy sighed. I don’t mean to be so nosy, but when you live around here your whole life, it’s hard not to be. It’s engrained in your DNA I’m afraid, she said with a slight blush.

Cassie laughed and said, Well, I know a thing or two about DNA, so fire away. My mom always said I was an open book anyway.

Well, since you said your ex-husband is in L.A., does that mean you and your sister live here and we’re getting a new vet in town, too?

Oh! No, sorry, Cassie giggled. My sister’s living back in San Diego, where we’re originally from, with her husband, David, and eight month old son, Miles. She and her husband share their vet practice there. It’s just me and my two girls. Twins actually, who are four…going on eight.

Twins? Double trouble and all, I’m sure. You must have your hands full.

Cassie laughed, At times, yes. It was hardest when they were first born. My ex worked incredibly long hours trying to get his career launched and I was supporting us working full time in a biotech lab. The twins were a ‘surprise,’ Cassie said making the air quotes, to say the least. Thank goodness the lab I worked for had an onsite child care facility. Luckily, I was able to quit working when they were one and a half.

My baby girl is seventeen now, but I remember those early years very well. After four boys, having a little princess a number of years later certainly was quite the shocker for me, but at least my husband was always involved. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you. So, how long have you been divorced, if you don’t mind me asking?

Again, open book here, Cassie teased, pointing to herself. Oh and aside from being open about everything, I also never learned to shut up, she added in warning. I’ve been divorced for about nine months now, and this is just the fresh start I needed. Both my parents are gone, but the girls and I are close to my ex’s parents, who don’t live far from here. They were kind enough to take the girls for a few nights so that I could move in and get everything settled. I was up till around three this morning painting their bedroom, and unpacking the necessities. It’s pretty sparse down here, but it’ll do for now.

To stop herself from blathering on even more, Cassie took a bite out of what was quite possibly the best blueberry muffin she’d ever eaten, and then she tried hard not to moan. She practically inhaled it and found herself reaching for a second one before she’d even finished the first. She dropped her hand, and forced herself to slow down and savor the last few bites, which was hard because she was that hungry and the muffins were really that good. Oh my God, Betsy! These things are so good they should be illegal! she said, utterly unable to resist the urge to grab another one.

Betsy laughed and said, Yes, I’ve been told that many times. I’ve also been offered large sums of money for my recipe, which actually came from my great-grandmother. But I have all the money I need and actually take a perverse enjoyment in knowing that I am the only one who can bake these suckers. She thought for a moment then continued, Well, technically anyone who can follow my recipe can bake them, but it’s under lock and key, and for now my children only care to eat them, not bake them. Maybe someday I’ll find someone worthy enough to share the family recipe with. Until then, they’re my specialty.

Since Betsy was being so kind, Cassie decided now was as good as any to clear the air. Listen, Betsy, I feel like I have to apologize to you and your family. I know how much your son wanted this property. But when I saw the ‘Open House’ sign driving through town one day on my way to my ex in-laws, I followed it and it led me here. Once I saw this place, I just knew this was where I was meant to be and what I wanted to do with my future. I know it sounds corny, but it was like fate brought me here. I’d never driven this way before but that day traffic was bad, so I took a detour and wound up finding this place. Mr. Potts’ kids were again, of course, extremely happy with what I was able to offer - courtesy of my divorce settlement, and all, she said winking.

Choking on her coffee, Betsy said, "Good Lord, Cassie you don’t owe us anything! It was my oldest son, Jason’s, idea to buy this place. Personally, the fishing and hunting they do for fun on our property is enough for me. And they have more than enough land to run their ultimate survival camp – or whatever the hell it is they call it. I’m actually thrilled that you’re keeping the farm stand open. Jason had the idea to raze the house and land for reasons only he knows. Potts Farm has been part of this town since the beginning, and when old man Potts got sick, we knew his kids were too busy and didn’t have the inclination to keep this place up. It’s good to see fresh blood come in, but at the same time keep things sort of the way they were. Does that make any sense?"

Cassie nodded, her mouth too full of the second muffin to speak.

And, Betsy added with a smile, I’m sure the money helped ease the ‘loss’ of their family heritage, as she made the air quotes this time. Mr. Potts’ children couldn’t get away from this town fast enough, in reality. Said there was so much more to see and do in a big city.

Her mouth now empty, Cassie let out a laugh. "I’ve lived in big cities