Chapter 2

2

D enise strode out of the lawyer’s office, her jaw tight. She couldn’t believe this was happening. The will reading was supposed to be a formality, a mere inconvenience before she could sell the tree farm and put this part of her life behind her. Once and for all.

But now, she had to deal with some employee her father had hired?

Denise’s fingers tightened around the keys to her rental car as she made her way down Main Street, avoiding eye contact with anyone, hoping that she could stay anonymous for as long as she had to be here.

What kind of trouble would this employee cause? Would she try to stop her from selling the farm? What was her name again?

Alice?

No, Alyssa.

What if Alyssa had somehow manipulated her father into changing the will? The very idea made Denise’s blood boil.

As she slid into the driver’s seat, Denise took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She needed to think this through logically. Maybe there was a way to dispute the will. Her eyes narrowed as she started the car and pulled away. That could work.

Although, wouldn’t that just delay things further?

The easiest thing to do would be to buy Alyssa out. If Denise had to guess, she’d say Alyssa was in her late twenties. What person her age would say no to… Denise started to think about how much she’d offer her, about how much the tree farm was worth and what that would mean for Alyssa’s supposed half of it, but she stopped herself.

Now wasn’t the time to be penny-pinching.

One point five million.

That’s what Denise would offer her, and with any luck, she’d have full control of the property by the end of the month, and then she could sell it.

As Denise drove through the winding roads of Stony Creek, she took in the familiar landscape of the foothills. The snow fell heavily now, covering the road and turning the trees into a winter wonderland, and she tried to concentrate on the road. This place, this town, held too many painful memories – memories she had worked so hard to bury.

She pulled into the long, winding snow-covered driveway that led up to the farmhouse. The weathered wood and stone chimney stirred a mix of emotions within her – a hint of nostalgia, but mostly a deep, simmering resentment. This was not the homecoming she had envisioned.

With a heavy sigh, Denise stepped out of the car.

The designer luggage wheels caught in the snow, forcing Denise to lift and carry them the rest of the way. Her heels sank into the powder with each step.

The key was exactly where it had been twenty years ago – beneath the moss-covered rock to the left of the steps that led up to the porch. Her fingers brushed against the cold metal, and for a split second she was sixteen again, sneaking in past curfew.

The key turned in the lock with a familiar click. As Denise stepped into the farmhouse, the scent of pine and the faint, lingering aroma of her father’s favorite tobacco washed over her. It was as if time had stood still here, preserving a piece of her past she had tried so hard to forget.

Her luggage echoed loudly on the hardwood floors. The furniture had been updated over the years, but the bones of the house remained the same. The fireplace where she had hung her Christmas stocking, the window seat where she had spent countless hours reading, the creaky third step on the staircase – all of it was still here, waiting for her.

She abandoned her suitcase and wandered further into the living room, her fingers trailing over the back of the worn leather couch. It was a replacement for the one she remembered, but the afghan draped over it was the same one her grandmother had knitted. Denise picked it up, holding it to her face and breathing in the scent of home.

But the memories weren’t all happy ones. Her eyes drifted to the spot by the fireplace where she had stood, trembling, as she told her father the truth about herself. The look on his face, the disappointment and anger, was seared into her memory. That was the moment she knew she had to leave, to escape the suffocating confines of this small town and the expectations of a father who couldn’t accept her for who she was.

Denise let the afghan fall back onto the couch. She was here to settle her father’s estate, nothing more. She pulled out her phone, pushing the memory aside. “Hi James. I need you to find the best realtor in Stony Creek.” She paced the living room, knowing her personal assistant wouldn’t take long to get her what she needed. “Great, have them call me directly. And could you find a local contractor? The place needs work.”

When Denise had left Los Angeles, she’d told James that she hadn’t expected to be here for more than a week, maybe two, and that she might need his help organizing everything, because she really didn’t want anyone to know that she was here.

Denise had felt like she was on a movie set when she was leaning against a tree at the back of the cemetery where her father was buried, her shades on, an elegant black hat pulled low.

But it hadn’t been a movie.

She’d skipped her own father’s funeral, hovering at the back of the cemetery instead, watching from a distance.

Denise knelt before the stone fireplace, arranging logs from the stack beside it. Her father’s old newspaper kindling technique still worked – at least he’d taught her something useful. A few minutes later, the flames caught, spreading warmth through the chilly room.

When she was happy that the fire had caught, she went upstairs and yanked open the hallway linen closet. Fresh sheets sat in neat stacks on the middle shelf. She grabbed a set and headed to the guest bedroom, where the mattress was newer and larger than her old single bed.

Her stomach growled, and a thought popped into her head. She slid her phone out of the back pocket of her pants and dialed a number that she was sure she’d never forget, praying they still made the best pizza she’d ever had.

“Romano’s Pizza, how can I help you?” a man asked.

“I’d like a large plain pizza for delivery. The address is 4 Pine Ridge Road.”

“The tree farm?”

“Yes.”

“Alyssa, is that you? You sound different.”

Denise sighed as she went back downstairs. “Please deliver it right to the farmhouse. I’ve left money under the doormat. Just leave it on the porch. Don’t bother knocking.”

“But—“

“Under the doormat,” Denise repeated firmly. “There’s a fifty. Keep the change.”

She hung up before he could ask questions. She just had to survive a few days, get the sale moving, then she could return to her real life in Los Angeles.

Denise grabbed a fifty from her wallet and put it under the doormat, the snow easing off a little now.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming email as she watched the flames catch. The realtor James had found could come tomorrow morning. Perfect. The sooner she got this place on the market, the sooner she could leave.

She opened her laptop at the kitchen table, creating a to-do list while she waited for the pizza to arrive.

Romano’s pizza had exceeded her memories – the perfect ratio of sauce to cheese, crispy yet chewy crust. Denise lounged on the worn leather couch, savoring another sip of cabernet. Her laptop balanced on her knees as she researched local real estate prices. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the room. Outside, occasional snowflakes drifted past the window.

A key scraped in the front door lock, and Denise’s heart stopped as she stared at the door, hoping she was hearing things. She set her wine glass down with trembling fingers and eased the laptop onto the coffee table.

The door swung open.

Denise lunged for the fireplace, grabbing the iron poker. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she raised it like a weapon.

Alyssa stood in the doorway, grocery bags in her arms, her hazel-green eyes wide with surprise. Denise’s gaze swept over her, taking in the way her black hair fell across her shoulders. She was wearing a stylish gray winter jacket and jeans. “What are you doing?”

Denise lowered the poker, feeling the heat rushing to her face. “What am I doing? What are you doing breaking into my house?” Her voice was sharp, masking the unexpected flutter in her chest.

“Breaking in?” Alyssa’s eyebrows shot up. “I have a key.” She held it up, the metal glinting in the firelight.

“Oh, getting cozy with my father’s property already?” Denise’s lip curled. “Half the business wasn’t enough for you?” She could feel her control slipping, anger and something else, something dangerous, rising in her throat.

“If you’d bothered showing up to the will reading on time, you’d know your father left me this house.” Alyssa’s voice cut like ice. “So technically, you’re the one trespassing.” She set the bags down at her feet, her stance defiant.

The poker clattered to the floor. “He what?” Denise’s voice was a whisper, disbelief and fury warring inside her.

“The farmhouse is mine.” Alyssa stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her. “Your father wanted it that way.” Her eyes met Denise’s, unflinching, a challenge in their depths.

Denise’s mind reeled, trying to process Alyssa’s words. Her father had left the farmhouse to this woman? This stranger who’d wormed her way into his life, into his business? The betrayal stung like a slap, reigniting the old pain of abandonment.

“I don’t care what he wanted.” Denise’s voice was low, dangerous. “This property is mine. All of it.” She stepped closer, her eyes locked on Alyssa’s. “I’m going to contenst the will, and then I’m going to sell it. All of it.”

Alyssa didn’t flinch. “You can’t just erase your father’s wishes.” Her voice was steady, but Denise could see the anger simmering beneath the surface. “The tree farm, this house, they meant everything to him.”

“And what would you know about that?” Denise scoffed. “You think a few years of working for him gives you the right to claim what’s mine?”

“It’s not about claiming anything.” Alyssa’s jaw tightened. “It’s about respecting his legacy. Something you clearly don’t understand.”

The words hit their mark. Denise felt the rage bubbling up, hot and uncontrollable. “Don’t you dare lecture me about my own father.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You have no idea what our relationship was like.”

“Well, I don’t know what kind of relationship you could have had when he never once mentioned you in the last thirteen years.”

Denise flinched as if she’d been slapped. She opened her mouth to retort, but the words wouldn’t come.

Alyssa continued, although her voice was level. She wasn’t hurling insults at Denise, she was simply stating the facts. “I had no idea that Wayne had a daughter.” Her eyes moved to the right of Denise, to the mantelpiece that lacked a single family photo. Instead, there was a photo of Wayne and Alyssa, standing in front of the tree farm with a group of maybe a dozen people, probably staff.

The words sliced through Denise’s carefully constructed walls. Her father had erased her from his life so completely that this woman hadn’t known she existed. It knocked the air from her lungs.

Her fingers found the edge of the mantle, steadying herself.

“I need you to leave,” Denise said. The words came out raw, stripped of their usual polish. Her throat burned with unshed tears.

Alyssa held her gaze. Was that pity in her eyes?

Denise was about to ask her again, but Alyssa’s voice cut through the silence.

“We’ll deal with this tomorrow,” Alyssa said, opening the door before she picked up her bags again. “I was thinking about getting settled in here, but… Anyway, I’ve been living in the cabin for years. I’ll just keep staying there, I guess, until we get this sorted.”

Denise simply nodded, her strength to fight back completely gone now. She just wanted to be alone.

The click of the door shutting filled the room, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Denise’s vision blurred as the tears she had fought to hold back finally spilled over. She sank down onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

Memories of their last conversation flashed through her mind – the bitter argument, the hurtful words exchanged, the slamming of the front door as she stormed out, vowing never to return. And now, more than twenty-five years later, she was here in this house, this place that was supposed to be hers, only to find that her father had given it away, along with half of the family business.

Denise’s shoulders shook with silent sobs, the familiar ache of abandonment and loss clawing at her chest. She had worked so hard to distance herself from this town, from the painful reminders of her past.

But now, it seemed, the past had come back to haunt her.