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Claiming The Single Mom's Heart
Their Unexpected Love
Sunshine Carston is looking for more than beautiful scenery when she moves with her daughter to Hunter Ridge, Arizona. She’s looking for answers. According to family legend, her ancestors were cheated out of their land by the Hunter family. But when she meets Grady Hunter, Sunshine’s mission is endangered—how can she investigate the Hunters when she’s falling for one? When Grady’s mother becomes ill, Grady steps in to help her run against Sunshine for town council. But what will Grady say when he finds out about Sunshine’s investigation? To rise above the past and forge a future together, they’ll need a love stronger than any feud…
“Hey! How is everybody this morning?”
Her heart inexplicably lifting at the sound of the familiar voice, Sunshine turned to see Grady striding toward them with that distinctive masculine gait, his impossibly broad shoulders clad in a windbreaker.
“Grady!” To Sunshine’s surprise, her daughter let out a cry of welcome and abandoned the swing to run toward him.
When Tessa reached Grady, she grabbed his hand and gazed happily up at him. “Now you can see how high I can swing.”
He glanced at Sunshine, looking slightly taken aback at Tessa’s grip on his hand. “I can do that.”
Willingly, he allowed her to pull him forward to stand next to her mother.
Tessa dashed for the swings. In a flash, she had herself moving.
“Are you watching?” a demanding voice called.
“We’re watching!” they yelled in unison, then exchanged a glance and laughed.
The kindergartner was pumping herself higher and higher, a determined look on her little face.
“You’re doing great, Tessa!” Grady’s words of encouragement impelled her to pump harder, and her triumphant smile widened.
Sunshine’s heart swelled with love.
GLYNNA KAYE treasures memories of growing up in small Midwestern towns—and vacations spent with the Texan side of the family. She traces her love of storytelling to the times a houseful of great-aunts and great-uncles gathered with her grandma to share candid, heartwarming, poignant and often humorous tales of their youth and young adulthood. Glynna now lives in Arizona, where she enjoys gardening, photography and the great outdoors.
Claiming the Single Mom’s Heart
Glynna Kaye
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
—Jeremiah 29:11
The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.
—Deuteronomy 31:8
To Jim and Phyllis Dorman, whose deep love of God and faithful ministry have greatly influenced my life. Thank you.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
About the Author
Title Page
Bible Verse
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
“A family legend is worthless unless you have proof.”
“I’m going to get proof.” With more confidence than she felt, Sunshine Carston gave her longtime friend Tori a reassuring nod. “It’s just taking longer than expected.”
Much longer.
She shifted restlessly in the passenger seat of Victoria Janner’s steel-blue Kia compact as they searched for a parking spot in the crowded graveled lot of Hunter’s Hideaway. Her own ancient SUV was in the shop—again—and out-of-town visitor Tori had agreed to take a detour while running errands Saturday morning. But Tori’s willingness had swiftly evaporated when on the way to their destination Sunshine had divulged her true intention for this next stop.
Big mistake.
She rolled down her window, breathing in the soothing scent of sun-warmed ponderosa pines. An aroma deliciously indigenous to the rugged mountain country surrounding Hunter Ridge, Arizona, it was one her great-great-grandparents would have been familiar with. One she herself would have likely grown up with had life not dealt her ancestors an unfair blow.
She stared across the parking lot at the connecting log, stone and frame structures that made up the main building of Hunter’s Hideaway. The vast wooded acreage had been a home away from home for hunters, horsemen, hikers and other outdoorsmen since Harrison “Duke” Hunter had—allegedly—rooted it to that exact spot early in the past century.
“They seem to be doing a good business this Labor Day weekend.” Resentment welled up within her. “No noisy remodeling like they’re inflicting on the Artists’ Cooperative gallery this morning.”
A cute blonde with a pixie haircut, Tori and her usual dazzling smile was nowhere to be seen as they slipped into an empty spot. “If you go in there with a chip on your shoulder,” she cautioned, “you can’t expect a positive outcome.”
What response had Sunshine hoped to get from her friend when she’d confessed her true motive for relocating to Hunter Ridge two years ago? A cry of outrage at the unfairness of it all? Reinforcement of her plans? Encouragement to face her fear of the influential family who the town was named for?
“And don’t forget,” Tori added as she cut off the engine, “what the good Lord says about revenge.”
“I’m seeking justice. Not revenge. There’s a difference.”
A big difference. Revenge involved retaliation. Inflicting injury. Justice had to do with revealing truth and righting wrongs. And yes, restoring of at least some of what by rights belonged to her family. To her. And to her five-year-old daughter, Tessa.
Tori cast her a disbelieving look. “Surely you don’t think anyone is going to fork over restitution for something your great-great-grandfather was supposedly cheated out of. Even if you could prove it—which I doubt you can—you don’t have the money to back up your claim with legal action.”
“No, but I’m counting on the seemingly impeccable reputation of the Hunters to apply its own brand of pressure. That they’ll be compelled, for the sake of their standing in the community, to make things right once the facts are brought to their attention.”
Tori slumped down in the bucket seat. “I wish you hadn’t told me any of this. It sounds too much like blackmail.”
Sunshine made a face. “Not blackmail. I look at it as an opportunity for them to live up to their good name. I don’t hold it against later generations that Duke Hunter didn’t play well with others.”
“You could get hauled into court if one of them thinks it smacks of extortion.” Tori gave her a sharp glance. “Especially now that you’ve decided to run for a town council seat against one of the family members.”
Against Elaine Hunter, who was trying for a second term.
“Everything will be aboveboard. Trust me, okay?”
If only her maternal grandmother, Alice Heywood, were still alive. She’d recall the details of the account Sunshine remembered hearing as a kid. The vague references to “the ridge of the hunter.” A betrayal by someone considered a friend. It was a story, though, which over time she’d dismissed as nothing but a fairy tale that once captured her childish imagination. That was, until her world turned upside down not long after her daughter’s birth and she began pondering the possibilities.
“The din from their renovation of the property next to the Artists’ Co-op,” she continued, “offers a perfect excuse for a visit. You heard the racket this morning. That less-than-sympathetic contractor overseeing the project told me to take it up with the Hunters. So here I am.”
Squaring her shoulders, she’d just exited the vehicle when someone stepped out on the covered porch that stretched across the front of the adjoined buildings. A muscle in her midsection involuntarily tightened.
“Oh, no, not him,” she whispered. Wouldn’t you know it? That too-handsome-for-his-own-good Grady Hunter, cell phone pressed to his ear, now paced the length of the porch like a lion guarding the entrance to his lair.
Although she’d only seen him around town, she’d heard plenty of starry-eyed feminine gossip surrounding the popular ladies’ man. Having once had a personal, close-up view of what it was like to be married to a male with that reputation, she wasn’t impressed.
“I wanted to get invited inside to talk to his mom or his grandma so I could look around. You know, for clues. But I don’t want to deal with this guy.”
“Maybe God doesn’t think snooping is a good idea,” Tori said.
“I have to start somewhere, don’t I?” She focused again on the broad-shouldered man striding across the porch. Black trousers. Snow-white shirt. Gray vest. Black bow tie.
“Why’s he dressed like that?” Tori echoed the question forming in Sunshine’s mind.
Then realization dawned and any remaining courage to take on the Hunters drained out of her. “I forgot. It’s his older brother’s wedding day.”
How had she lost track of such a high-profile event? Widower and single dad Luke Hunter was marrying Delaney Marks, a young woman who Sunshine had become acquainted with over the past summer. Obviously she’d been way too busy and much too preoccupied if she’d forgotten. So what was new?
“Maybe you’d better come back in a few days.” Tori sounded relieved that her mission might be aborted.
“But by then the holiday weekend will be over, the last of the summer customers come and gone.” There might soon be leaf-peepers searching for a burst of aspen gold—and hunters, of course—but the prime season to market the talents of local artists would be over until late next spring. “I have a responsibility to represent the best interests of our artists’ community. And that constant din next door isn’t one of them.”
Torn, she again looked to where Grady had finished his conversation and pocketed his cell phone. She found big, self-confident men intimidating, but she’d have no choice but to deal with him if she ventured forth now.
Intruding on a family gathering, though, might not be the best strategy. Nor would stating the case for the Artists’ Co-op to the man on the porch rather than to his civic-minded mother. But before she could get back in the car, Grady’s gaze swept the parking lot and he spotted her, his eyes locking on hers.
Her heart jerked as his expression appeared to sharpen. Question. Challenge.
The decision was made.
“Ramp up the prayers, Tori.” She shut the car door, cutting off her friend’s words of protest. Here we go, Lord.
* * *
What was she doing here?
Grady Hunter’s eyes narrowed as the petite young woman, her black hair glinting in the late-morning sunlight, wove her way between cars in the parking lot. Clad in jeans and a black T-shirt, the fringe of her camel-colored jacket swaying with each step, Sunshine Carston looked like one determined woman.
Just what he didn’t need right now. Not, for that matter, what any of the Hunter clan needed while setting aside anxious thoughts regarding his mother’s recent cancer diagnosis in order to celebrate today. Couldn’t whatever Sunshine had on her mind wait until after the Labor Day weekend? Or at least until after the guests dispersed from his big brother’s postwedding brunch, which was now in full swing?
Having ditched his tux jacket inside, he loosened his tie, regretting having stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and to make a quick phone call. He didn’t know who Ms. Carston intended to see, but regardless he would halt her at the door. Admittedly, he had a reputation for being overly protective of his family. But thirty-four years of life’s lessons had given him reason to be, and today would be no different.
“Good morning.” An almost shy smile accompanied her greeting as she paused at the base of the porch steps, but her dark brown eyes reflected the resolve he’d initially identified from a distance.
Up close she was prettier than he’d originally thought from seeing her around town and—only recently—in church. Although his area of expertise was wildlife photography, he nonetheless found himself mentally framing her for a perfect shot. Not a stiffly formal studio portrait, though. She was far too vibrant for that.
Her glossy, shoulder-length hair, slightly longer in front than in back, accented her straight nose and high cheekbones, and a smooth, warm skin tone hinted of possible Native American ancestry. She appeared to be in her late twenties—much too young to challenge his mother or Irvin Baydlin for a seat on the town council. From what he’d heard from multiple sources—including his mom—she kept the current council members on their toes. Which, of course, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
But he wouldn’t be voting for her.
“Good morning,” he acknowledged with a friendly nod. Hunters were known for their hospitality, and he’d uphold that to his dying day or risk repercussions from Grandma Jo. He stepped off the porch and extended his hand. “Grady Hunter. How may I help you?”
Doe-like eyes met his in momentary hesitation, and then she gripped his hand in a firm shake. “Sunshine Carston. Manager of the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative.”
Her voice was softer, gentler, than he’d assumed from her reputation. That, combined with the delicate hand she’d placed in his, contradicted the image he’d previously formed of the single mom as “one tough cookie.”
She motioned to the overflowing parking lot of the property his great-great-grandparents had settled in the early 1900s. “I apologize for the intrusion. I forgot this is Delaney Marks’s wedding day.”
That was right, his brother’s new bride was, coincidentally, an aspiring artist herself and, in exchange for jewelry-making lessons from another local artist, on occasion worked at the Artists’ Co-op.
“I won’t take but a few minutes of your time,” she said, not waiting to see if he’d voice any objections to conducting business on his brother’s wedding day. “The adjoining property north of the Artists’ Co-op is being renovated by a contractor hired by Hunter Enterprises.”
“That’s correct.”
“I realize Hunter’s Hideaway caters to a different customer base,” she continued, and he found himself drawn to the softly lilting voice, the expressive eyes. “But, as a fellow business owner who is impacted by visitors to this region, you know how important the months from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day are to local businesses.”
“They are indeed.” Fortunately, although Hunter’s Hideaway no longer offered guided hunts on their own property or in the neighboring national forests, they’d diversified through the years to not only provide camping and cabins for hunters, but also for competitive trail riders and runners seeking to condition at a higher altitude. For seekers of a quiet place to get away from it all, as well.
Those more recent additions, in fact, gave him hope that he might soon see his long-held dream come to fruition—wildlife-photography workshops and related guided tours of the forested wilderness surrounding them. But he had to convince his family that it was worthwhile. Not an easy thing to do.
Sunshine’s dark eyes pinned him. “Then, you can understand how sales might be negatively impacted at a fine-arts gallery when the adjoining property is undergoing a massive overhaul on the last holiday weekend of the season.”
So that was the problem. It couldn’t be that bad, though, could it? It wasn’t as if they were dynamiting. “No harm intended, I assure you.”
“The contractor overseeing the project says he’s under a tight deadline.” She folded her arms as she looked up at him. “We’ve had disgruntled customers walk out of the gallery when the pounding, vibration and whine of power tools wouldn’t let up.”
Weighing his options, he briefly stared at formidable clouds building in the distance for what would likely bring an afternoon monsoon rain. “What do you say I give the contractor a call and postpone things for a few days? I imagine he and his crew wouldn’t mind having the rest of the weekend off.”
Brows arched as if in disbelief. Or was that disappointment flickering through her eyes? Had she expected—relished even—a fight?
“You’d do that?”
“Neighbors have to look out for neighbors.”
The contractor did have a deadline, but there was no point in making things harder for Grady’s mother right now by waving a red flag in Ms. Carston’s face. Although the family was struggling to come to terms with Mom’s upcoming surgery—a single-side mastectomy—she insisted she still intended to run for office, so there was no point in riling up one of her opponents unnecessarily.
“Well, then...” Sunshine’s uncertain tone betrayed that verbalizing gratitude wasn’t easy for her in this instance, almost as if she suspected she’d missed something in their exchange. That maybe he was trying to pull a fast one on her. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter.”
“Grady. And you’re welcome.”
But she didn’t depart. Instead, she stood looking at him almost expectantly.
“Was there something else?”
An unexpected smile surfaced. “I’m waiting for you to make the call.”
Oh, she was, was she?
A smile of his own tugged in response to the one that had made his breath catch, and he pulled out his cell phone. He wasn’t used to not being trusted to do what he said he’d do. But anything to keep the peace, right? And to keep Sunshine smiling like that. On Mom’s behalf, of course.
Under her watchful gaze he put some distance between them, then punched the contractor’s speed-dial number. “Ted. It’s Grady. I hear you’ve got your crew working this weekend.”
“A deadline’s a deadline,” the gravelly voice responded, his tone defensive. “I’ve never missed one yet.”
“That work ethic is certainly why you were picked for the job.” Grady cut a look at Sunshine. “But what do you say we extend it by a week and let you and your boys knock off for the rest of the holiday weekend?”
It would be cutting it close, but an extra week wouldn’t be a deal breaker, would it?
After a long pause, Ted chuckled. “That pretty artist complained to you, didn’t she?”
Grady forced a smile as he nodded reassuringly in Sunshine’s direction. “You’re welcome, Ted.”
“Pushover.”
Was he? “Glad I could help your crew out.”
The contractor chuckled again. “Be careful there, Grady. You’re playing with fire.”
“Sure thing. You have a good one, too, bud.”
Pocketing his cell phone again, Grady moved back to Sunshine. “All done.”
From the wary look in her eyes, she clearly hadn’t anticipated he’d willingly accommodate her. A sense of satisfaction rose, catching her off guard, throwing a wrench in her assumptions.
“Anything else?” He needed to get back inside. They’d be cutting the cake shortly and he’d promised a toast. “I know you’d once approached Hunter Enterprises about leasing the property next door to expand the Artists’ Co-op, but we’ve long had plans for it. We’ll do our best to be a top-notch neighbor.”
“It’s true we could use the additional space, but it will be nice having a bookstore in town.”
He frowned. “Bookstore?”
“You’re opening a bookstore, right?”
“No.”
“I heard it was going to be a bookstore.”
“It’s not.”
“Then, what—” her words came cautiously, reflecting a growing dread in her eyes “—will be going in next door to us?”
Chapter Two
“Hunter Ridge Wild Game Supply.”
“When you say wild game,” Sunshine ventured without much hope, “I don’t suppose you mean a place that sells video games?”
Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of Grady’s deep blue eyes and she steeled herself against the engaging grin. This was Grady Hunter, ladies’ man, and she’d do well to keep that in mind. He’d been unexpectedly accommodating about the renovation next door. What was he up to?
“No, I mean a store that sells equipment and supplies for processing wild game. You know, stuff for making elk sausage and venison steaks.”
Okay. Deep breath. She could handle this. Her great-great-grandfather had, according to her grandmother, been a marksman who’d put food on the table with his hunting skills. She herself wasn’t any more squeamish about wild game than she was about buying chicken or a pound of hamburger at the grocery store. But some Co-op members might disagree.
“Not solely in-store sales, but online, as well,” Grady continued, a note of pride in his voice. “Once we pass inspection, we’ll also be officially licensed to do processing demonstrations as well as process game donated for regional food pantry programs. That’s what the ongoing renovation is about—to put in a commercial kitchen, freezers, the works.”
She stiffened. Processing on the premises? Services that meant hunters hauling their field-dressed trophies through the front door? On the other hand, how could she object to feeding the hungry?
She must have hesitated a moment too long, for Grady’s eyes narrowed.
“You have a problem with that?”
Not wanting to give the impression she was opposed to the idea, she offered what she hoped was a convincing smile. As a candidate for town council, she had to weigh her words carefully. It wouldn’t be wise, two months before an election, to give the majority of those living in a town catering to outdoorsmen the impression she had issues with that.
She glanced toward the parking lot where Tori was no doubt watching and wondering what was taking her so long. “I personally have no problem with it, but some gallery customers and Co-op members may.”
“That’s unfortunate.” He didn’t look concerned. “But your worries are unfounded. We won’t hang carcasses in the window or mount a deer head over the front door. It will be low-key. Discreet.”
“You do understand my problem, though, don’t you?” She looked to him in appeal. “Our members are trying to create a welcoming atmosphere for shoppers of the fine arts. The gulf between the two worlds might be disconcerting for some.”
“I know a number of hunters who appreciate the fine arts and who, in fact, are award-winning painters and sculptors of wildlife. Maybe the Co-op should expand its horizons and find a way to better serve the foundation that Hunter Ridge was built on.”
“Taxidermy?” She flashed a smile. “I don’t think that would go over well with local artists who call this town home.”
“Then, it sounds as if folks should have researched Hunter Ridge more closely before coming here, doesn’t it?” He quirked a persuasive smile of his own. “You could move the gallery, you know. If not to another town, there are empty buildings that I imagine would be suitable.”
“Unfortunately...” Sunshine drew in a resigned breath “...the Co-op recently signed a three-year lease.”
Which had been her doing. She’d been proud of convincing their out-of-town landlord, Charlotte Gyles, to give the Co-op a lower monthly rental rate in exchange for committing to a three-year contract. But look where it had landed them now. Member Gideon Edlow, who’d give anything to unseat her as manager of the Co-op, would gleefully cry, “I told you so.” Being booted out of the position would mean losing the apartment above the gallery and being forced out of town before she’d had a chance to verify her grandmother’s story.
