Chapter Three

Maple tried her mother first, but the call rolled straight to voice mail, so she left a message that was as vague and chipper as possible. Other than a brief mention of Texas, she in no way hinted at her current existential crisis. No need to panic anyone. This was all just some huge misunderstanding. As soon as she met with Percy's attorney—the only one in town, apparently—Maple could get on with her new life in Bluebonnet.

She was assuming Grover would let her stay, of course. Whether or not Percy left behind any paperwork documenting her grant didn't really matter. Maple owed the clinic a year of work and, as unpleasant as it seemed, she intended to fulfill that obligation. If Grover wouldn't let her stay...

Well, she'd simply deal with that later. Right after she managed to convince Grover she was in no way related to his recently deceased business partner.

"It's not true," she said aloud, as if the crammed bookshelves and clutter scattered atop Percy Walker's desk could hear her. Grover had banished her to Percy's office to make her phone calls, against Maple's fervent protests.

Lady Bird, who'd sauntered into the office on Maple's heels and promptly arranged herself on a faded flannel dog bed in a corner by the window, lifted her head from her paws. She cocked her head and eyed Maple with obvious skepticism. Or maybe Maple was just anthropomorphizing. She had a tendency to do that on occasion.

"I'm not his daughter." Maple fixed her gaze on the dog. "Seriously, I'm not. I don't belong here."

Lady Bird's tail thump-thumped against her dog bed. The golden clearly wasn't listening.

"A simple phone call will prove it." Maple turned her cell phone over in her palm and scrolled through her contacts for her dad's information. If her mom wasn't answering, maybe he could help. She couldn't keep sitting here in a strange man's office in a strange town, trying to convince a strange dog that she really was who she said she was—Maple Maribelle Leighton of New York City.

Before she could tap her father's number, her phone rang with an incoming call and Maple jumped. She really needed to get a grip.

It's Mom.She pressed a hand to her abdomen as her mother's name scrolled across the top of the phone's small screen. Thank goodness.

"Hi, Mom," she said as she answered, going for bright and confident, but managing to sound slightly manic instead.

"Hi, honey."

Wait. That wasn't her mother's voice. It almost sounded like her father.

Maple frowned down at her phone. "Dad?"

"It's both of us, Maple," her mother said.

"Both of you?" Maple glanced at Lady Bird in a panic. The last time her parents had joined forces, it had been to try and talk her into going to law school. If they were willing to put aside their many, many differences to join forces, things must be far more dire than Maple imagined.

But wait—Maple hadn't even mentioned Percy or his will in her voice mail. How could they possibly know she'd been calling about something as delicate as her parentage?

"You mother said you're calling from Texas," Dad said.

And there it was.

Maple's heart sank all the way to her stilettos, which seemed to be covered in a layer of barbecue-scented dust. One brief mention of Texas had been enough to get her parents back on speaking terms?

This couldn't be good.

"I'm here for work. Remember when I told you about my vet school scholarship?" Maple swallowed. Lady Bird, sensing her distress, came to stand and lean against her legs, and Maple felt a sudden swell of affection for Percy Walker. Whoever he'd really been, he'd raised a lovely, lovely dog, and that alone spoke volumes about his character. "There was a small technicality I might not have mentioned."

"What kind of technicality?" her dad asked. Maple could hear the frown in his voice clear across the country.

"In exchange for a full ride, I agreed to spend a year working at a pet clinic here in Texas." Maple took a deep breath. "I guess you could say I live here now. Temporarily. Something strange has come up, though, so I wanted to call and—"

"Where in Texas?" Mom asked in a voice so high and thin that Maple barely recognized it.

"It's just a small town. You've probably never heard of it." Maple bit down so hard on her bottom lip that she tasted blood.

Maybe if she didn't say it, she could stop this conversation before it really started. She could keep on believing that she knew exactly who she was and where she'd come from. She could swallow the name of this crazy place and pretend she'd never set eyes on Percy Walker's last will and testament.

In the end, it was her dad who broke the silence. And the moment he did, Maple couldn't pretend anymore. There was more to her educational grant than she'd thought. Had there ever even been a grant? Or had it simply been Percy's way of getting Maple to Texas? To home?

Maple shook her head. She'd never felt farther from home in her entire life.

Dad cleared his throat. "Tell us the truth. You're in Bluebonnet, aren't you?"

An hour later, Maple stared in disbelief at a version of her birth certificate she'd never set eyes on before.

It had been sent via fax from her mother's office in Manhattan, straight to the dinosaur of a fax machine at June's workstation in the pet clinic's reception area. Maple wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it herself—not even after her mom and dad had calmly explained they weren't actually her birth parents. Maple had been adopted at only two days old. Charles and Meredith Leighton had flown down to Bluebonnet and collected her themselves.

It had been an open adoption, arranged by one of their attorney friends. Maple's birth mother had only been seventeen years old, and she'd died in childbirth. The grief-stricken father had been so overwhelmed that he'd agreed to give the baby up, under one condition: the adoptive parents had to promise to keep the baby's first and middle names. Maple Maribelle. Once Maple held the faxed birth certificate in her trembling hands, she understood why.

Mother's Name: Maple Maribelle Walker

The words went blurry as Maple's eyes swam with tears. She'd been named after her birth mother. Everything she'd read in Percy's last will and testament had been true. The man who'd paid for her education and brought her to Bluebonnet had been her father.

And now he was gone.

They both were.

"Let's see that, missy." Grover snatched the birth certificate from her hands.

At some point, Maple was going to have to school this man on how to speak to his female colleagues. But, alas, that moment wasn't now. She was far too tired to argue with the likes of Grover Hayes. All she wanted to do right now was crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. Too bad she still had no idea where she was staying.

"Believe me, no one is as surprised by this crazy turn of events as I am," Maple said as Grover studied the document.

Grover made a noise somewhere between a huff and a growl. Lady Bird's ears pricked forward and she cocked her head.

"We need to talk," Maple said, even though she had no idea what she was going to say. Up was down, down was up and nothing make sense anymore.

"Just come home," her mother had said.

"I've booked you on the first flight out of Austin tomorrow morning," her dad had added. "First class."

It had been decided. Maple had never belonged in Bluebonnet. As far as her parents were concerned, she should just come back to New York and forget her ill-fated trip to Texas had ever taken place. They'd fallen all over themselves apologizing for never telling her the truth about her birth. Maple couldn't remember either of her parents ever uttering the word sorry before. It was almost as disorienting as learning she'd been born right here in Bluebonnet.

"Indeed, we do." Grover stalked toward his office, fully expecting Maple to follow.

What choice did she have?

At least June shot her a sympathetic glance this time. Maple gave the receptionist a wan smile and fell in step behind Grover as Lady Bird nudged her gold head beneath Maple's hand.

The dog was growing on Maple. Technically, the golden was hers now, right? She could pack the dog up and sweep her off to New York if she wanted to. Not that Maple would do such a thing. New York City was made for purse dogs. Life in Manhattan would be a major adjustment for a dog accustomed to living in the wide-open spaces of Texas. It wouldn't be fair.

But that didn't stop Maple from dreaming about it.

"I've been thinking things over, and I've decided to let you off the hook," Grover said as soon as the office door shut behind them.

Maple heaved another pile of file folders out of the office chair she'd occupied earlier and plopped down on the worn leather. "I'm not following."

"For the grant. You and Percy had an agreement, did you not? A fully funded veterinary education in exchange for one year of employment here at Bluebonnet Pet Clinic?" Grover leaned back in his chair.

Maple nodded. "Yes, but..."

"But I'm letting you off the hook. Percy's gone now. I think we both know the real reason he wanted you to come here." Grover shrugged. "I see no reason to make you fulfill your obligation. I think this morning proved you're not a good fit here. Wouldn't you agree?"

Ooof.He was one-hundred-percent right. There was no reason why his words should've felt like a blow to the chest, but they did.

"Agreed." Maple gave a curt nod and tried her best not to think about the way she'd spoken to Ford Bishop earlier. The appointment had been a total disaster. Yet another reason to put this town in her rearview mirror as quickly as possible.

Lady Bird sighed and dropped her chin onto Maple's knee.

"So." Grover shrugged. "You're free to go."

Maple gripped the arms of her chair so hard that her knuckles turned white. The effort it took not to sprint out of the building, roadrunner-style, was almost too much to bear. "I'm leaving on the six a.m. flight out of Austin tomorrow morning. My ticket is already booked."

Her dad had even managed to pull some strings and gotten Maple another shot at her dream job. The veterinary cardiology practice that had made her such a generous offer after graduation still wanted her to come to work for them. When Maple had asked how that was possible, since she knew for a fact that the position had been filled after she'd turned it down, her father had simply said that veterinary cardiologists got divorced, just like everyone else did. He'd apparently represented Maple's new boss in a nasty split and was now calling in a favor.

"Good." Grover nodded. "Excellent."

Maple knew she should ask about Percy's estate. Didn't she need to sign some papers or something? There was the veterinary practice to think about... Percy's personal effects...and his dog.

She could deal with all of that from New York, though. Her parents were lawyers. Maple probably wouldn't have to lift a finger. They could make it all disappear, just like they'd promised on the phone.

None of this is really your responsibility. You can walk away. Grover just said so himself.Maple buried her hand in the warm scruff of Lady Bird's neck.

Charles and Meredith Leighton had been divorced since Maple was in first grade. The separation had been monumentally ugly—ugly enough that she could remember hiding in her closet with her stuffed dog, Rover, clamping her hands over her ears to try and muffle the sound of dishes smashing against the marble floors. They were two of the city's highest paid divorce attorneys, after all. Fighting dirty practically came naturally to them.

The fact that they seemed to have to put aside their many, many differences to help Maple deal with Percy's estate and get her back to New York was nothing short of surreal. In the ultimate irony of ironies, she'd managed to fulfill her childhood dream of stitching her broken family back together. All it had taken was the accidental discovery of a whole other family that she never knew existed.

"Where am I supposed to stay tonight?" Maple said, willing her voice not to crack.

Grover opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out an old-fashioned skeleton key, tied with a red string. He set it down and slid it toward Maple.

She eyed it dubiously. "What is that for?"

"It's the key to Percy's place." Grover paused, and the lines on his face seemed to grow deeper. "Although technically it's your house now."

Not for long.

She reached for the strange key and balled it into her fist. Percy's house was the absolute last place she wanted to go for her few remaining hours in Bluebonnet. She longed for a sterile beige hotel room—somewhere she could hide herself away and feel absolutely nothing. Unfortunately, the closest place that fit the bill was nearly fifty miles away. Maple had already done a search on her cell phone.

She slapped the key back down on the desk.

"I'm not sure staying at Percy's house is the best idea. I don't even know how I'd get there. I don't have a car." With any luck, Uber hadn't made it all the way to rural Texas. "Didn't I see a sign for a bed-and-breakfast near the town square? I'm sure that's much closer."

"Closer than next door?" Grover stood, reached for his white vet coat and slid his arms into its sleeves. "I think not."

"Percy's house is right next door?" Maple squeaked.

Of course, it was. The population of this place was probably in the double digits.

"Yes, he lived in one of the Sunday houses. He owned this one, too, until he sold it to the practice." Grover cast a sentimental glance at their surroundings. Then his gaze landed on Maple and his expression hardened again.

"What's a Sunday house?" she asked before she could stop herself. Why spend any more time in Grover's presence than absolutely necessary? The wording made her curious, though. She'd never heard of such a thing in New York.

"A Sunday house is a small home that was once used by ranchers or farmers who lived in the outlying area when they came into town on the weekends for social events and church. Sunday houses date back to the 1800s. There are still quite a few standing in the Texas Hill Country. A lot of them are historical landmarks." He glowered. "You might want to brush up on some local history before you think about selling the place."

"I'll get right on that," she muttered under her breath.

"Percy's home is the pink house just to the right of this one." He fumbled around in the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a banged-up pocket watch that looked like something from an antique store. He squinted at it, nodded and slid it out of view again. "I'd walk you over there, but I've got an appointment with a turtle who has a head cold."

Sure he did.

Maple didn't believe him for a minute. Grover just wanted her gone. At least they'd finally agreed on something.

"You can leave the key under the front mat when you head out in the morning. Have a safe trip back home," Grover said, and then he strode out of his office with a tight smile.

Nice to meet you, too, Maple thought wryly.

Lady Bird peered up at her with a softness in her warm brown eyes that made Maple's heart feel like it was being squeezed in a vise. Was she moving too fast? Maybe she should slow down a take a breath.

She closed her eyes, leaned forward and rested her cheek against Lady Bird's head. A voice in the back of her head assured her she was doing the right thing.

This was never what you wanted. Now you have an out. You'd be a fool not to take it.

Maple sat up and blew out a breath. Lady Bird's tail beat against the hard wood floor. Thump, thump, thump.

"Come on." Maple said, and the dog's big pink tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth. "Let's get out of here."

She sure as heck wasn't going to spend the night in Percy's house alone, and Lady Bird seemed more than willing to accompany her.

June was clearly more conflicted about Maple's decision to fly back to Manhattan. She at least had the decency to look somewhat sorry to see Maple go.

"You don't have to be in such a hurry, you know," the older woman said as Maple took hold of her wheeled suitcase. "Don't mind Grover. I know he seems madder than an old wet hen, but he's not that bad once you get to know him. He and Percy were really close. He's taking the loss hard."

So hard that he basically ordered his dead friend's long-lost daughter to leave town immediately. Do not pass GO. Do not collect 200 dollars.

Maple fought back an eye roll. "I'm going to have to take your word on that, June."

June nodded and fidgeted with her hands. "You let me know if you need anything tonight, Dr. Leighton. I'll be 'round to collect Lady Bird first thing in the morning. She's been staying with me since Percy's passing, but you take her tonight. That dog has a way with people who need a little TLC. She's actually sort of famous for it around these parts."

Maple suspected there might be more to that story, but before she could ask June to elaborate, a client walked into the clinic holding a cat carrier containing a fluffy black cat howling at the top of its lungs.

"I think that's my cue to go." Maple tightened her grip on the handle of her suitcase. "Thanks for everything. And June...?"

June regarded her over the top of her reading glasses. "Yes, Dr. Leighton?"

"You can call me Maple." Maple's throat went thick. She really needed to make herself scarce. It wasn't like her to get emotional around strangers. Then again, it wasn't every day that she learned something about herself that made her question her place in the world.

June's face split into a wide grin, and before Maple knew what was happening, the older woman threw her arms around Maple's shoulders and wrapped her in a tight hug.

It had been a long time since someone had embraced Maple with that sort of enthusiasm. As much as she hated to admit it, it felt nice.

"I really should go now," she mumbled into June's shoulder.

June released her and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Goodbye now, Maple Maribelle Walker."

Leighton, Maple wanted to say. My name is Maple Leighton. But the words stuck in her throat.

She dipped her head and dragged her luggage toward the door, carefully sidestepping the cat who was now meowing loud enough to peel the paint off the walls. Lady Bird trotted alongside Maple as if the cat didn't exist. Golden retrievers were known for their unflappable temperament, but this really took the cake.

If Grover hadn't told Maple which house in the neat row of half-dozen homes with gingerbread trim had been Percy's, she still would've located it easily. Lady Bird led the way, trotting straight toward the little pink house with her tail wagging to and fro.

A nonsensical lump lodged in Maple's throat at the sight of it. It looked like a dollhouse and was painted a pale blush-pink that reminded her of ballet slippers. Everything about the structure oozed charm, from the twin rocking chairs on the porch to the white picket fence that surrounded the small front yard. Maple couldn't help but wonder what it might've been like growing up in this sort of home, tailor-made for a little girl.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. There must be something in the water in this town. Maple never cried, and this was the third time today that she'd found herself on the verge of weeping.

She took a deep inhale and pushed open the gabled gate in the white picket fence. Lady Bird zipped past her, bounding toward the tiny covered porch. The dog nudged at something sitting on the welcome mat while Maple hauled her bag up the front step.

"What have you got there, Lady Bird?" Maple muttered as she rummaged around her NYC pizza-parlor handbag for the ridiculous skeleton key Grover had given her earlier. Was there anything in Bluebonnet that didn't look like it had come straight out of a time capsule?

The key felt heavy in her hand, weighted down by yesteryear. Maple's fingers wrapped around it, and she held it tight as she bent down to see what had captured Lady Bird's attention.

Once she managed to nudge the golden out of the way, Maple saw it—a large pink bakery box with the words Cherry on Top printed across it in a whimsical font.

Her breath caught in her throat. Ford Bishop had really done it. He'd done as his grandmother had asked and brought her a pie. Maple had been so busy with her identity crisis that she hadn't eaten a bite all day. She hadn't even thought about food. But the heavenly smell drifting up from the bakery box made her mouth water.

She picked it up, closed her eyes and took a long inhale. The heady aroma of sugar, cinnamon and buttery pastry crust nearly caused her knees to buckle. Then her eyelashes fluttered open, and she spotted the brief note Ford had scrawled on the cardboard in thick strokes from a magic marker.

The man had terrible handwriting—nearly as indecipherable as that of a doctor. Maple had to read it a few times to make out what it said.

Doc,

I wasn't sure what kind of pie you liked, so I went with Texas peach. The peaches were homegrown here in Bluebonnet. There's more to love about this place than just dogs, although our canines are admittedly stellar. Just ask Lady Bird.

Regards,

Ford Bishop

Maple's heart gave a little twist. She couldn't even say why, except that she'd spent the entire day trying to hold herself together while her life—past, present, and future—had been fracturing apart. She didn't belong here in Texas. That much was clear.

But the secret truth that Maple kept buried deep down inside was that she'd never fully felt like she'd belonged anywhere. Not even New York. She'd always felt like she was on the outside looking in, with her face pressed against the tempered glass of her own life.

Maple had always blamed her social anxiety on her parents' divorce and a lifetime of learning that love was never permanent, and marriages were meant to be broken. Her mom and dad had never said as much aloud, but they didn't have to. It had happened in their very own family. Then Maple had quietly watched as her parents battled on behalf of other heartbroken husbands and wives.

She'd avoided dating all through high school, afraid to lose her head and her heart to someone who might crush it to pieces. Then in vet school, she'd decided to prove her parents wrong. She'd thrown herself into love with all the naivete of a girl who hadn't actually learned what the words prenuptial agreement meant before her tenth birthday. When she fell, she fell hard.

Justin had been a student in her study group. He was fiercely competitive, just like Maple. She'd foolishly believed that meant they had other things in common, too. Two peas in the pressure cooker of a pod that was veterinary school.

For an entire semester they did everything together. Then, near the end of the term, on the night before they both had a final research project due in their animal pathology class, he disappeared...

Along with Maple's term paper.

At first, she'd thought it had to be some weird coincidence. He'd been in an accident or something, and she'd simply misplaced her research paper or left it at the copy place, where she'd had all one hundred pages of it bound like a book for a professional aesthetic. But Maple knew she'd never make a mistake like that. Instead, she'd made one far more heartbreaking. She'd trusted a boy who'd used her for months, biding his time until he could swoop in and steal her research project so he could turn it in as his own.

By the time Maple flew into her professor's office the following morning to report the theft, Justin had already switched out the cover page and presented the work as his own. The professor insisted there was no way to tell who'd copied whom, and Maple had been left with nothing to turn in. It had been the one and only time in her life she'd received an F on a report card.

Lesson learned. Her parents had been right all along.

But maybe there was more to the detached feeling inside of Maple than her messed up childhood and her ill-fated attempt at romance. Maybe the reason she'd never felt like she fit in was because she'd been in the wrong place. The wrong life.

If Maple hadn't known better, she would've thought the wistful feeling that tugged at her heart as she read and reread Ford's note might have been homesickness. Nostalgia for a place she'd never really been but longed for, all the same.

Homegrown here in Bluebonnet.Her gaze kept straying back to that phrase, over and over again, as she stood on the threshold of Percy Walker's home, clutching a pie that had been a reluctant thank-you gift from a perfect stranger. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied. Lady Bird whimpered, angling for a bite of peach pie.

It wasn't until Maple felt the wetness on her face that she realized she'd finally given up the fight and let herself cry.