Chapter 1

When I was a little girl, my gran used to say that life was like cake because even the bad ones still had icing. Usually, she'd say this when life had dealt out another disappointment.

Sorry if we're out of ice cream, but that just means we have more room for pie!

Sorry if the boy next door won't play with you, but that means we have time to invite your best friend for a sleepover!

Over the years, as I got older, I realized that she was trying to teach me to roll with life's disappointments. Her motto was that a little bit of creativity and a positive attitude could transform even the worst situation into a blessing.

Small victories, she'd say. Celebrate the small victories.

I loved Gran more than just about anyone else in the world, but over the last month it had become abundantly clear that she'd lied to me.

Every cake didn't have icing.

There wasn't always a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Sometimes things just sucked.

Like discovering my would-be haven needed its own rescue.

"It's a wreck!"

"What did you just say?"

I jumped at the sound of Retta's voice in my ear. She'd called a few minutes ago, but I'd instantly forgotten she was on the phone when I pulled into the driveway of my Gran's house. I was so distracted that I took my foot off the brake and the car lurched forward.

"Oh crap!" I quickly put the car in park.

Retta's voice boomed through my headphones. "Can we just back up for a second? Where are you?"

"My Gran Grace's house."

"The gran who died when you were in high school?"

"Yes."

Retta sounded thoroughly confused. "Didn't she live in the middle of bumfucksville?

"Virginia."

"Isn't that what I said?"

Despite the circumstances, that got a smile out of me. "Retta, someone was supposed to maintain the place, but the house is a mess."

"Charlie, what happened with Aaron?"

The mention of my ex was enough to distract me from the shambles of my grandmother"s house. Aaron had seemed like the perfect boyfriend: successful, romantic, and supportive of my career. I hadn"t realized until too late that his idea of happily-ever-after had not extended to supporting me when my family got bumped from A-list to D-list.

"You thought he was going to propose over lunch and then everything happened with the police. I know the last few days have been crazy."

I got out of the car and stood at the edge of the yard. My eyes didn't know where to land. They moved from the house"s dingy siding, to the cracked asphalt on the driveway to the unkempt yard. The Knock Out roses that had once been Gran's pride and joy were now an overgrown tangle of thorns and brush. Then I turned toward the house and threw my hands up.

"I mean, even the steps are rotting!"

Retta paused. "Everyone who showed up to work this morning got told to go back home. I started sending out resumes."

My stomach twisted, equal parts sympathy and shame. None of this was my fault, but I still felt responsible in some way. After all, my stepfather hadn"t just screwed over investors: he"d betrayed hundreds of employees who relied on his company—our family"s company—to provide a stable, honest job.

I kicked at a patch of weeds. "He was packing, Retta."

"Packing? Oh."

"Yeah. He said he thought I wouldn't be home for a while."

She groaned. "Now is it okay to say that I really don't like the guy?"

* * *

As I entered my grandmother's house, I switched on the lights and took in the full effect of years of neglect. The dim overhead lighting didn't do much to cut through the gloom. Even from a distance I could tell the rose-patterned wallpaper was peeling and the air smelled stale, like no one had been here for a very long time.

Suddenly I was seeing this room as it was in summers past: alive with the sound of Gran's laughter and my excitement, back when the floors were meticulously swept and the candy dish on the coffee table was always full.

I dropped my bag on the floor, instantly regretting that move when a small cloud of dust bloomed at my feet. The furniture was covered with white sheets at least but there was a thick layer of dust on every other surface, so much of it that it swirled in the air every time I moved.

After driving for six hours straight I'd hoped to be able to sit down and relax. Maybe even take a nap.

However, as I looked around the shrouded room, all hopes of that disappeared. If it looked this bad down here, it was unlikely the upstairs would be any better.

Gran's favorite picture of Billie Holiday still held pride of place in the entry hall. Like everything else it was covered in a thick layer of dust. I touched the picture with two fingers just the way Gran always had.

"Nice to see you again, Lady Day."

Exhaustion dogged my steps as I walked toward the kitchen. A cobweb brushed my cheek and I shuddered. This was supposed to be the easy part. When things had fallen apart in New York, I'd left thinking that at least here I could get my bearings.

It turned out that things were falling apart everywhere.

After brushing dust off one of the wooden bar stools, I sat down. The house was eerily quiet and was going to take a lot of work to clean up, but I was still grateful to be here. It had the most important thing I needed after all.

Solitude.

Everything in my life was a mess and handling it with an audience had just made it all so much worse. Not just the obvious things like watching my stepfather being escorted away in handcuffs or having to console my mother as she drank her way through breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But it was the little things that got to me.

Coming home to my own apartment and finding my boyfriend packing.

The loud silence of all the "friends" who had apparently blocked my number.

Discovering that my entire perfect life was a fraud.

"Home again," I said.

Saying the words out loud made it real. After ten years I was finally back in the only place I'd ever felt like I belonged.

Looking around at Gran's house, hundreds of memories rushed through my head. Singing in the kitchen while she whipped up pancakes. Sliding down the hallway in my socks. Cooking dinner side by side while she told me all the gossip going around town. Those summers with Gran were the best of my life and when my mom finally let me live in Violet Ridge year-round, I thought I'd had it made. Then Gran died and my perfect life went up in smoke.

I should have learned by now that perfect didn't last.

My (hasty) plan had been to spend the next month getting the house ready for my mom and sister to move in. But I'd envisioned some light cleaning and decorating, maybe purchasing new furniture for the bedrooms. Not a full-scale renovation.

No, there was no icing here.

I sighed and picked up my handbag. First, I needed to go back into town and get some cleaning supplies. Then I could tackle making the main rooms habitable.

The nap would have to wait.

* * *

Three hours later, the sun was shining directly through the windows I'd just cleaned, brightening the entire room. Once I'd gone back to town and managed to find not only cleaning supplies but coffee, my mood had improved considerably.

Violet Ridge was different now. The town even had a Facebook page! The house was a little more run-down than I'd expected but it was nothing I couldn't handle. If I'd learned anything over the past few days, it was that I was much stronger than I'd given myself credit for. Rolling with the punches was kind of my specialty.

At least this time I was on my own turf.

"Knock, knock."

I looked up at the sound. A woman poked her head around the door. She had pink-tipped hair that swirled wildly around her face and a grin so large it almost swallowed the rest of her face.

"Well, damn. It's a hot mess in here."

Santana Evers had never been one to mince words, and I was grateful to find that hadn't changed.

"Tana!"

The word was swallowed as she pulled me into a hug and just about squeezed the life out of me. The stress that had dogged me for the past three hundred miles melted away. She let out a squeak when I suddenly hugged her back, almost lifting her off the ground.

"Charlie Monroe, in the flesh. Girl, you look good." She fluffed the ends of my hair that I'd recently started wearing in its natural curly state.

"I'm just trying to keep up with you, Miss Instagram."

She preened. Tana had a beauty salon in town and had achieved some modest social media fame posting pictures of the rainbow highlights she'd done for her clients. We'd kept in contact over the years but trying to maintain a friendship long distance was a challenge. Video chats and watching the highlights of each other's lives online just wasn't the same.

"Are you really here for the whole summer?"

"And next year, too. I figured we could stay here until we get back on our feet. But I have to admit that I wasn't expecting … this."

Her eyes followed mine, taking in the dilapidated interior, the peeling wallpaper, the musty smell, and the general feeling of doom. My earlier unease returned full force as I thought of all the things I'd have to do to get the house ready before Mom and Billie arrived. It had been a shock when Gran left it to me instead of my mom but then again, she knew what this place had always meant to me. Not to mention that my mother wasn't exactly known for being good with money.

If she'd inherited the house, she would have sold it immediately and blown the money in a few years. That wasn't what Gran would have wanted.

She'd always hoped I could bring my own kids there someday. It had sounded like such a far-off thing back then but now that I was moving back to Violet Ridge, I had to admit how much I'd hoped for that, too.

"Well, I'll help you in any way that I can. Although I probably won't be much help since the only thing home improvement-ish I can handle is painting."

I glanced over at the hole in the wall next to Tana"s shoulder. It was about the size of a fist. "Painting is the least of my worries for right now."

Since I'd inherited the house so young, my mom had hired a local management company to maintain it until I was older. But now that I saw their version of "maintenance," I wished I'd just done it myself.

Tana could probably guess at my thoughts if my face was any indication. Whatever the case, she'd always been a pro at getting right to the point.

"What are your plans?"

"For starters, I need a roommate. Just for the summer."

If she was surprised, she did a good job concealing it. Not that I was under the illusion that people in The Ridge weren't aware of my family's troubles. This might not be a major city, but gossip was international, although they probably had no idea how bad things really were. The news reported my stepfather being arrested for fraud, but they hadn't mentioned that he'd stolen from family, too.

My mother had been inconsolable when she told me that Christian had taken all the money she'd inherited from Gran and the little trust fund established for my sister. She hadn't thought anything of asking him to help her with her investments. He was this big-time broker, a superstar of Wall Street, so who better to ask?

I'd always felt a little guilty that Gran had left the house to me, like I'd taken my mom's legacy or something. But as usual, Gran was the wisest of us all. Since it was solely in my name it was the only thing the stepjerk hadn't been able to take away from us.

I looked over at the hole in the wall again. This had to work. It was the only option left.

Tana must have sensed my thoughts. "It's all going to be okay. I'll tell my mom to spread the word, too. Between my customers at the salon and everyone that comes through the hardware store, we'll find someone. I wish I hadn't just renewed my lease because I could have stayed here."

"Hopefully I'll get some responses to my ad."

"Your ad?"

"Yeah, I put up an ad on the Violet Ridge Facebook page. I figured that would be faster than posting flyers."

"Charlie, that page is public. All kinds of weirdos might see that post!"

"Really? How many people are looking at the Violet Ridge Community Page on any given day?"

"You'd be surprised," she muttered under her breath. "Maybe one of my customers will know someone."

"Thanks, Tana. Even if they can only pay a couple hundred a month, it's something."

Her phone blasted a song. She withdrew it from her pocket with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I have to get back to the shop. But if we're lucky we'll find you someone decent before the weekend." She paused in the doorway. "I'm really glad you're back."

"Me too."

After another hug she was gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the room. When I turned around, I realized that I meant it. I was really glad to be here even if moving back wasn't going to be as simple as I thought.

The proof was all around me. After cleaning, I'd spent some time putting Gran's knickknacks and books away and I still wasn't done. Boxes were scattered around the living room, their wide cardboard flaps mocking me like gaping mouths. Anyone observing would see boxes waiting to go into storage so they wouldn't be damaged during the renovation. They couldn't know that each bubble-wrapped package represented a memory.

It might look like a hot mess, but it represented a new beginning. My new beginning.

I could only hope that I wouldn't screw it up.