Chapter One
Avery Robinson waved from her front porch as the last guest drove away into the warm Oregon evening, maintaining her smile until the car turned the corner. Then she breathed out for what felt like the first time that day. She pulled all the hairpins from her bun and shook her head, thankful to literally let her hair down at last. Slipping the pins into the pocket of her black dress, she looked down at the big yellow dog sitting at her feet, watching her expectantly.
“You did great today, Ace.” His plumy tail thumped on the ground. “Better than me, at least,” she added, leaning down and giving him a hug.
Then they went back inside together, through the wide, wood-paneled hallway to the living room. Her aunts were each sitting upright in an armchair, holding a cup of hot tea. With their matching long dark hair and black jackets, they looked like tidy escapees from the Addams family.
Avery plopped down on the sofa, and Ace sat on the rug at her feet. On the coffee table in front of her was an array of baked goods kindly offered by the women of Austen. Apparently funerals called for comfort food—mostly banana bread, apple pie, and sheet cake, but someone had left a giant mac and cheese in the refrigerator too. She had a lot of eating to do before she left.
She sighed and took another slice of banana bread. Ace licked his chops, but remembered his manners. Avery gave him a corner anyway. He deserved a little culinary comfort just as much as she did. She’d lost her dad, and Ace had lost his human, and saying goodbye was never easy. It had been a confronting day, in more ways than one.
“That was a big day,” Aunt Birdie said, seeming to read her mind. “You did well.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Avery said. “Thanks again for organizing everything while I was stuck in Portland.”
“We had lots of help,” Birdie said. “Your friend Claudia did such a wonderful job with the flowers.”
“She did. That was really nice of her.” Avery had been glad to have Claudia there. They’d been best friends since kindergarten, in a tight-knit trio with their friend Emma, and Claudia knew more of Avery’s history, fears, and secrets than anyone else in the world.
“And wasn’t it amazing how many people showed up?” Aunt Cece said. “The Murphys from Spokane, all the cousins from Medford…even Owen’s old friend Lyle from when he volunteered in Costa Rica. So many unexpected faces.”
Avery picked at the banana bread. “Some were very unexpected.”
“Ah,” Birdie said. “You saw Logan then.”
“I did.”
Logan Wagner was the last person she’d expected to see at her father’s funeral. Well, maybe third to last, after her own mom, and Logan’s dad. She wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t shown up. In fact, she didn’t even know where they’d been since they left town together one summer night just over ten years ago.
“He looked so handsome in his suit,” Cece said. “Did you talk to him about…anything?” She was clearly itching for details, but decorum kept her from looking too curious.
“Nope. Nothing.” Avery found it hard to imagine what they’d have to say to each other. Anyway, he’d stood at the back during the service, not talking to anyone, and hadn’t shown up at the house afterward with the other guests. Handsome or not, that was probably for the best. Suddenly exhausted, she leaned back on the sofa and yawned widely behind her hand.
Birdie stood up. “It’s time for us to go,” she said. “You need some rest. We all do.”
Avery stood too, and Ace leaped to attention. “I can keep Ace here tonight,” she said to her aunts. “Then you can take him tomorrow, before I go. I’ll have to leave before lunch if I want to get back to Portland in time for work.”
Cece’s blue eyes widened, and she set down her teacup. “Oh, no, honey,” she said. “We can’t take him.”
“Definitely not.” Birdie shook her head. Her long hair fell across one eye, and she pushed it aside. “It’s out of the question. The girls would never be safe.”
Ace leaned in closer to Avery and nudged his wet nose into her hand. She stroked his silky head, and he looked up at her with big dark eyes, as if to say that he would never, ever, even consider chasing one of the aunts’ pampered ragdoll cats. Avery decided it would be better not to mention the incident earlier that morning, when she’d caught him leaping and scrabbling at the fence, while the neighbor’s tabby sat smugly just out of reach. Maybe losing her dad had caused him to be naughtier than usual.
“But he can’t come back to Portland with me,” she said. “My apartment is way too small, and I couldn’t leave him at home while I’m at work. I could try to find somewhere else to live, I guess…but Carter is allergic to dogs.”
“We’ll have to rehome him then,” Birdie said. “I’m sorry, Avery.”
Avery sat down again and Ace leaned in, pressing his substantial weight against her legs as if he’d understood the words. She leaned forward and put an arm around him. From the moment he arrived in Austen as a tiny, shaggy puppy of indeterminate breeding, Ace had been by her dad’s side, filling the gap left by her mom’s abrupt departure with Jeff Wagner. Avery had wanted him to get a dog when she left for college in Portland, but he had resisted, saying he didn’t have time for one, being out all the time as a mobile handyman. But when Ace finally came on the scene two years later—thanks to Owen’s friend Patrick Brennan, who rescued him from a nearby shelter—he fitted in perfectly, riding shotgun with Owen and charming every homeowner and property manager he met.
For Avery, away at college, it was a relief to know her dad finally had company. He and Ace had quickly become inseparable, filling this big house with warmth, always there to welcome her when she came back from Portland for visits, and take her for walks along the river or the beach, or for hikes in the hills behind town.
Always…until the day her dad’s heart suddenly gave out.
Now the silence in the room stretched on as Avery tried to think what to do.
It was hard enough to imagine selling the house—something she was hoping to avoid—but the thought of sending Ace away to people he didn’t know was unbearable. And would she even be able to find someone to take a dog his age? At eight, he was well into doggy middle age, even though he was as sprightly as a teenager most of the time.
“You know we do love Ace,” Cece finally said. “And he was so special to Owen…” She crumpled, and her sister wordlessly passed her the box of tissues from the side table. Cece plucked out a tissue and pressed it to her face.
Watching them, Avery’s heart constricted. “I know.”
The unexpected loss of her dad had blindsided her, but it was devastating for his two sisters too. After early romantic disappointments, they’d both stayed single, and Owen had been the man in their life—the big brother, the protector, the handyman who fixed whatever was broken. And now, without him, it felt like everything was broken. But it wasn’t something any of them could fix.
Cece rallied a little, straightening her shoulders and giving Avery an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey.”