Chapter One

      Dylan Millwright sat in his Jeep, parked on a slight hill. Stone Gap, North Carolina, lay before him, lazy, content and still in the late October sunshine. When he was eight, he’d climbed the side of this hill with his older brother and felt like he’d conquered Mt. Everest. When he was sixteen, he’d brought Mary Alice Hathaway to this very hill and mistaken lust for love. At seventeen, he’d quit high school and crested the hill once again, but this time vowing to leave the small town where he’d grown up in his rearview mirror forever.

      Forever had lasted a little over ten years. Then Uncle Ty had called, said I need you, kid, and Dylan had dropped everything. There were very few people in the world that Dylan would do that for. Uncle Ty was at the top of the list. Dylan had no idea how long he was going to be here, or what Uncle Ty needed, but that was okay. Dylan was used to living by the seat of his pants, with no more formal commitment than a handshake.

      He looked out over the town one last time, then drew in a deep breath. Then he climbed back into his Jeep and headed down the hill and into downtown Stone Gap. Not much had changed, as if the whole town was caught in a time warp. Sadie’s Clip ‘n’ Curl still marked the beginning of Main Street, followed by the ice cream parlor, a couple diners, Gator’s Garage, Betty’s Bakery, Joe’s Barbershop...

      Small-town America, on a first-name basis with everyone.

      Hopefully he wouldn’t be caught in this Norman Rockwell painting for very long. Dylan paused at the intersection with Juniper Street, took a left, then pulled into the parking lot of a long, low-slung building. The white paint was fading, peeling, and the roof had a few broken shingles. The morning rain had left the grass richly green and knocked a few light branches to the ground. The sign out front looked brighter than Dylan remembered, but still said the same thing, like a promise he could depend upon:

      Millwright Family Children’s Community Center

      Uncle Ty and Aunt Virginia, who’d never had children of their own, had opened the center two decades ago. Kids from all over came here, filling the game rooms and the basketball courts out back, mostly after school and always on Saturdays. Dylan himself had spent many an afternoon here, often after a fight with his parents or yet another grounding for breaking a rule (or ten). Uncle Ty and Aunt Virginia had always welcomed him with open arms, providing a refuge for kids who really needed one.

      A month ago, Aunt Virginia had died. Dylan had been hiking in Colorado and didn’t get the message until after the funeral. Then Uncle Ty had called, his voice breaking with grief, and asked Dylan to come help.

      He headed inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior, and his ears to the din. A couple of teenage boys were playing ping-pong at the scarred table with the Swiss cheese net in the rec room. Two others were immersed in an older generation PlayStation or Xbox. Another few were sprawled across the battered leather sofas, watching a football game. The teenagers, a motley, kind of scruffy crew, barely noticed him enter. At a set of small chrome and laminate tables on the left, a quartet of little kids were making some kind of craft with Mavis Beacham that involved a whole lot of glue and a tub of colorful beads.

      As soon as she saw Dylan, Mavis got to her feet and opened her arms. “Dylan Millwright, as I live and breathe! What are you doing here?”

      Before he could answer, she was drawing him into a tight hug. Mavis was an ample woman, the kind that embodied welcome. She’d been his neighbor when he was growing up, and had always made time for both the Millwright boys, keeping a jar of their favorite peppermints by her door for whenever they passed by.

      “Tell me you’re staying at the inn while you’re here,” Mavis said. “Della Barlow and I turned Gareth Richardson’s house into something amazing. You’ll love it there.”

      Leave it to Mavis to not even ask Dylan about staying with his brother. She knew him well, and had seen the squabbles between the boys. He smiled at her. “I wouldn’t dream of staying anywhere else, Mavis.”

      She cupped his face between both her palms. “I’m glad you’re home, Dylan. Real glad. Your uncle needs you.”

      “I’m glad I’m here, too, Mavis,” Dylan said. He didn’t correct her on calling Stone Gap home. She loved this town far more than he ever had, so he let that go and instead gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

      Uncle Ty was sitting in his office, behind a wide plate-glass window. He looked up, saw Dylan and started waving as he got out of his seat and came around the door. “Dylan! You made it!”

      Dylan crossed the room and gave Uncle Ty a big hug. His uncle was five foot nine, a few inches shorter than Dylan, and used to be nearly as wide as he was tall. But since the last time Dylan had seen him, his uncle had lost at least twenty pounds. He had a friendly, open face, and though his graying hair was thinning a little and receding a lot, he still looked younger than his sixty years. As long as Dylan had known him, Uncle Ty had been a kid at heart. “Good to see you, Uncle Ty.”

      “You too, son. You too.” He patted Dylan’s back. “I’ve missed you.”

      “I’ve missed you too.” Dylan drew back. “I’m really sorry about Aunt Virginia.”

      Ty’s eyes filled. “She was one of a kind. Lord, I loved that woman.”

      “Everyone who met her did, too,” Dylan said. Aunt Virginia had had one of those larger-than-life personalities. The kind of woman who welcomed perfect strangers into her home and fed them pork and beans on a Saturday night. The kind of woman who knitted blankets for the homeless and baked pies for the poor. She’d been the lifeblood of the community center. Even though the rooms were still teeming with activity, it felt as if some of the air had gone out of the space, but Dylan didn’t want to say that. “Looks like the place is as busy as ever. And exactly the same as when I was here.”

      Uncle Ty chuckled. “You know me. Change is a four-letter word. I don’t like to mess with a winning formula.” Then his uncle sobered and draped an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, lowering his voice as the two of them walked toward the office. “Thank God you came when I called. I can’t manage this place on my own. You know Virginia—she was my right and my left hand here. I’m just...lost without her.”

      Dylan could see that in his uncle’s eyes, hear it in his voice. He’d never known anyone who loved another person as much as Virginia and Ty had loved each other. They’d had movie love, the kind you only saw in some Nicholas Sparks flick. And now, Virginia was gone, and Uncle Ty looked like he was marooned on a deserted island.

      “Whatever