Chapter 1

The snow was falling, the small town silent and still beneath the blanket of white. Merri Bradley, or MerriBee as her friends and patients called her, left the hospital, driving with care as she exited the hospital parking lot, and then bumped over the railroad tracks.

It was a quiet morning, snow softly tumbling from the sky, no traffic on the roads. Downtown remained dark, most businesses still closed, although the Java Café was open, and warm yellow light glowed from the big glass windows of Main Street Diner.

MerriBee parked on Main Street, taking one of the empty spaces in front of the diner and stepped from her car. Her right foot did a slide on a patch of ice, and she caught the side of her Subaru, steadied herself, before heading inside. The diner was warm, and smelled of bacon, coffee and cinnamon—three of her favorite scents. She took her coat off just inside the door, hung it on the rack provided, and swiped a hand over her head, brushing off snowflakes, even as she took her favorite chair at the long counter.

Flo stopped in front of her to pour a cup of steaming coffee. “Ready to order, hon? Or do you want a few minutes?”

Flo had been at the diner ever since MerriBee arrived in town. Apparently, she was a Marrietta institution, much like the courthouse, or Grey’s Saloon. MerriBee shook her head. “Think I’ll just sit with coffee for little bit. Need to unwind.”

The older waitress’s forehead creased. “Long night?”

MerriBee fought the ache in her chest. “A very long night.”

“You do a job most of us couldn’t do. Don’t know how you have the strength. I could hardly handle my mom’s passing, not sure how you do it over and over.”

MerriBee managed a faint smile even though her eyes burned. Her heart hurt right now, but then, it always did when it came to the goodbyes. “Well, I couldn’t be on my feet, serving people all day,” she said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice. “We all have a different calling.”

“Yes, but helping folks die isn’t the easiest of callings.”

Again, MerriBee struggled against the weight in her chest, pressing down, making it hard to breathe. Death was never easy, not even when it was a relief. “You make it feel like I’m in the business of euthanasia. It’s hospice work.”

“A death doula,” Flo said. “Isn’t that what you called it?”

“I do both. I’m a hospice nurse and yes, when needed, a death doula.” Her expression shifted, her mouth quivering. It had been such a long night. So difficult. Sometimes people were ready to go, and sometimes they weren’t. Last night was one of those nights where her patient wasn’t ready. Those deaths were the hardest of all.

MerriBee reached up to slide a fingertip beneath her eye, and then the other, drying the tears before they could fall. “Ignore me. I’m not in the best form. I’m going to eat something in a bit and—”

“Go home and get some sleep, I hope.”

“Exactly what I intend to do.”

“Good. You look tuckered. So, when you’re ready, just let me know and I’ll get your order in.”

Classic Romance

“Thanks, Flo.” MerriBee watched her move on to other diner customers, pouring coffee, clearing plates, chatting away. So like Flo, so like the diner. When MerriBee had moved to Marietta eight years ago, she’d felt like an outsider. But over the years, Marietta had become home, and the people in this town had become her people, her friends as well as her family, as she didn’t see her own family very often anymore.

There never had been a big falling out with her family; they all had just… grown apart. Her career didn’t help. Her parents couldn’t relate to her job, and she couldn’t understand why they were so happy with their structured routine. It was always the same. Spaghetti on Monday, chicken on Tuesday, some kind of casserole on Wednesday, meatloaf on Thursday, and so forth. The menu never changed. The TV shows rarely changed. News was always watched, local news at five, national news at six. Dinner was scheduled around the news, too, with her mother serving everything promptly at 6:45.

It wasn’t the worst way to live, but it wasn’t MerriBee’s vision for her future. No, she wanted bigger things for herself. Her parents were baffled by her as a girl, but they loved her, and she loved them, and if she needed a parent fix, they weren’t that far, just over the mountains in Spokane, Washington. Her parents had only come once to see her in her eight years in Marietta, which was a shame as she had plenty of space in her house. Admittedly it was a very big house for one person, and she’d bought it as a single woman, following the death of John. It was why she’d begun renting out rooms, usually to families of patients she cared for. She’d never intended to rent out rooms, but the income was welcome, and it made her old Queen Anne house, built during the turn-of-the-century, feel like a home. As well as making her feel needed.

No one had understood why she’d buy such a big house—a rather dilapidated house—after she was widowed. But houses in good neighborhoods held their value, and she trusted real estate more than the stock market. She also couldn’t stay in her old home, the one she’d been living in during her brief marriage as that was where John died, and it was too painful staying there.

John. She exhaled softly, just as she did whenever she thought of him. It was five years ago this month since he died. Time was strange. Sometimes it seemed so slow, but looking back, it amazed her that five years had passed since his death.

She’d known from the moment she met him, he wouldn’t be with her long, but that hadn’t stopped her from falling in love with him. Maybe she’d loved him so intensely because she knew their time was limited. Or maybe it was just John. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, everything she admired in a man. But he had bone cancer and it was ravaging him, and there was little medicine could do anymore.

It was falling in love with John that shifted her from the neonatal unit to hospice. There were a lot of nurses able and willing to care of the preemies, but fewer interested in hospice. But just because she could do it, didn’t mean it was easy. It was never easy. Every death was hard.

Every loss made her heart hurt. And losing Missy this morning had been particularly brutal. She’d been such a fighter, all the way to the end.

Even at the end.

MerriBee’s phone rang. She considered not answering, but she saw it was Finn from the Bramble House, the historic red brick B&B a block down Bramble Lane from her house. “Hi, Finn,” she said, taking the call. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Hopefully I’m not interrupting anything.”

“I’ve wrapped up my shift. I’m just at the diner, waiting for breakfast. What can I do for you?”

“I’m in a bind and was wondering if you have any rooms available for the week. We don’t overbook often, but we did this week. Do you have space for one guest? Cade Hunt runs Sundowner Ranch in the Big Horn Mountains. We vacationed there a year ago, did the whole dude ranch experience with the kids. He’s a very nice man and I hate to send him to the Graff. It’s not his kind of place.”

“Is he that picky?”

“It’s just the opposite. He likes quiet places, without a lot of fuss. You know how busy the Graff gets this time of year. And hopefully it’d only be for a week. I’m trying to move some things around so he could be here the second week.”

MerriBee had a problem saying no to people. She had a feeling others knew that about her, too. “He’s in town for two weeks?”

“He has some business with the local ranchers. I don’t see him sitting around your house all day.”

MerriBee hesitated, and then thought of the income, because income was always nice, particularly with the giving she did this month. “Okay. Send him my way.”

“I’ll call and give him your address. I imagine he’ll be there around noon.”

“And his name is Hunt?”

Classic Romance

“Yes, Cade Hunt. Thanks, MerriBee, much appreciated.”