Second Choice: A Second Chance Resort Prequel
Second Choice: Archie
Archie MacPhail studied his wife, Ina, who stood on the back deck of their home. They’d bought a large house on the outskirts of Second Chances, hoping to fill it with kids, dogs, and the chaos that came with them.
That wasn’t to be and it broke his heart. He was worried it was going to break Ina completely. She was born to be a mom.
Archie had never met anyone so full of compassion and joy. She made every day better simply by being in it.
After too many miscarriages and a terrifying scare, the doctors had been forced to operate and remove any chance she had of bearing kids.
Hoping he was doing the right thing, Archie moved to the deck and wrapped his arms around her from behind. Ina had recovered from the surgery physically, but her heart would be wounded forever.
He kissed her neck and she leaned back into him. “Hey there beautiful lady.”
She smiled up at him. “Hello my handsome man.”
He kissed her and almost forgot his plan.
When he managed to pull back, he grinned at her. “You make my brain melt, Ina, and I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”
She leaned back on the deck railing. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded quickly. “I think we should become foster parents.”
Her eyes widened and filled with tears. She rolled her lips together and sucked in deep breaths. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and kissed her forehead before speaking again. “I think we could help. Some kids need a break from their lives. Sometimes temporarily, sometimes forever. We could give them this place and we could give them us.”
Ina slowly blinked the tears away, not letting a single one fall. She wasn’t only the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, she was the best person he knew.
He kept going. “I did some research online and we’d have forms to fill out and interviews to do, but I think we have a lot to offer. Not only do we have a big house we could fill up, but there’s land for them to play in and explore. I can teach them to build, you can teach them to bake and cook. We can take them up to the resort and you can teach them to ski, give them the freedom of the hills.”
Ina continued to study him without saying a word, but he watched emotions chase themselves as she considered his words.
He squeezed her hands. “Maybe this is the way it was meant to be. We can give kids a second chance. What do you think?”
She studied him for another minute while she thought it through. Ina was never one to make rash judgements.
Finally, her lips tilted lifted into a smile that filled him right down to his toes.
“What do I think? I think you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever known and I couldn’t be happier that I married you.”
She leaned up on her toes and brushed her lips over his. “Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s give some kids their second chances.”
Second Look: Fletcher
Fletcher Hogan looked around the bedroom. He’d never had a bedroom before. He’d always slept on the couch in his dad’s tiny apartment.
A shudder ran through him at the thought of his father. His dead father.
Fletcher knew about death. He knew his father had been in charge of death for his gang.
At seven, Fletcher had seen his father beat people unconscious, deliberately break their bones, and shoot them.
He’d learned to stay quiet and keep hidden so none of that happened to him.
Now, his father was dead and some lady had taken him away from their apartment. She’d brought him to Vermont. He didn’t know what that meant, but it had taken them all day to get there in a car that didn’t break down once.
Now, he’d met a man and a lady who didn’t act like anyone he’d ever known. They smiled at him, told him he was welcome, and brought him upstairs to this room with a bed and furniture with drawers. The walls didn’t have holes and the window looked out onto a mountain. A real mountain with snow. They said the room was for him. Just him.
The man who told him to call him Archie, grinned from the doorway. “This will be your room, Fletcher. Ina and I use the bedroom at the end of the hallway. If you need anything during the nights, it’s always okay to come and knock on our door.”
Fletcher wasn’t sure what that meant. What could he need?
He smelled something delicious coming from down the stairs and Archie grinned. “Smells like Ina’s cookies are done baking. She makes the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.”
Fletcher didn’t know people made cookies. He’d seen ones that came from the store couple of times. How did someone make them?
Archie smiled at him. He smiled a lot and seemed to mean it. It wasn’t the smile like his father got before he hit someone. This one didn’t scare Fletcher at all.
“How about we go down to the kitchen and see what kind of cookies Ina made? What’s your favorite cookie?”
Before he could think better of it, Fletcher shrugged. “I don’t know much about cookies.”
Archie didn’t get mad. Instead he grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Then you’re in for a treat. Ina is a terrific baker and I think I smell chocolate chip cookies. You’re going to love them.”
He followed Archie to the kitchen where Ina smiled at him too. She smiled like Archie, like she was happy. That was something else he didn’t know much about.
Ina turned that smile to him. “I hope you like chocolate chip cookies, Fletcher. I wanted to celebrate your first day and cookies seemed like a good way to do it. We’re so happy you’re coming here to live with us. I’ve got a pot of meatballs simmering and we’ll have spaghetti for supper.”
Archie rubbed his belly. “Any chance we can snag a cookie before supper?”
Ina laughed and it was happy too. “I want you both to have lots of room for supper, but I think sneaking a cookie before dinner is a great way to celebrate.”
She pointed to where some of the cookies were in a jar. “Those ones are cooled. Go ahead and take a couple.”
Fletcher looked at Archie to be sure. The man reached in and took a cookie then offered the jar to Fletcher. He hesitated, but these people didn’t seem like the kind to trick him. He took a cooke. “Thank you.”
Ina took one, too. Then she smiled at him and Archie and lifted her cookie in the air. “Welcome to our home, Fletcher. We’re so happy to have you here. Here’s to second chances for all of us.”
He wasn’t sure what that meant, but when they both smiled and bit into their cookies, he did the same.
It was the most amazing thing he’d ever tasted. He swallowed the rest and looked up to find Ina holding out another one. “I’m glad you’re here, Fletcher. Have another.”
He did because he was glad he was there, too.
Second Home: Dawson
From his spot high up in the tree, Dawson Draper watched a car drive up to his grandparents’ house and he was glad he’d kept his backpack with him.
His parents and both sets of grandparents were always happy to pass him onto the next person willing to take him for a while. Sometimes, they didn’t give him time to pack his stuff, so he’d learned to carry his backpack with him all the time.
He didn’t know the car, but it wasn’t like anyone would tell him if they bought a new one. His parents had told him often enough that they’d never planned to have a kid and they wouldn’t let him interfere with their important jobs.
He had no idea what they did when they left him, just knew that whatever it was, it was more important than him. They hardly ever answered his questions, so he’d stopped asking.
At least his grandparents both lived on the edges of the city instead of a tiny apartment surrounded by other buildings. There was more room to explore here. Trees, creeks, hills.
No one worried if he didn’t come back, so he’d even camped out in the trees a few times. He returned for food, but he was happiest outside.
The car stopped in front of the porch and two men in suits came out. Dawson didn’t know either of them.
Neither of them smiled as they walked to the front of the car. Both of them shifted their suits a bit, then they nodded to each other and climbed the porch.
Curious, Dawson secured his pack on his back and climbed down the tree, then moved to the bushes around the porch. He’d learned early that if he wanted to know things, he had to find them out for himself. No one bothered to tell him anything. Most of the time he wondered if they even remembered he was there.
His grandmother opened the wooden door, but he didn’t hear the screen door open, meaning she didn’t know these men either.
“Who are you?”
“Hello, are you Mrs. Draper?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Detective Charles Keller and this is Harry Medina. He works with Child Services.”
“What did Dawson do?”
Dawson didn’t know what Child Services meant, but he wasn’t surprised his grandmother assumed he’d done something wrong. She always told him he was a pain in the ass, that she shouldn’t have to take care of a kid at her age. Even though he never did bad stuff, she told him he must be up to trouble because he spent so much time outside.
“This isn’t about Dawson. It’s about your son and his wife.”
Dawson’s parents. Had they done something bad?
“I’m sorry to inform you that Donald and Ashley Draper were killed when an airplane they’d chartered crashed. There were no survivors.
His parents were dead?
Emotions clashed in Dawson’s belly as he slumped to the ground. Dead.
He knew he missed a bit of the conversation while he dealt with the panic running through him, but he heard his grandfather’s voice. “So what happens to the kid? We’re not keeping him. We’re too old to deal with a kid.”
More panic rolled through him. His parents were gone and these grandparents didn’t want him. He knew the other set of grandparents would feel the same.
He wanted to run into the woods and keep running until he found a place where someone wanted him to stay. But that was impossible. No one wanted him for long.
Second Helping: Griffin
Griffin Lancaster added more paprika to the pot and let the meat simmer. He grabbed the tortillas from the pack and put them in the oven to soften up.
He hadn’t tried making tortillas yet because his dad didn’t want to waste money buying flour. He’d tried to explain it would be cheaper to make them than buy things in packages, but his dad didn’t want to hear it. Even at nine, Griffin knew keeping the peace was more important than anything, including food.
His dad hated that his pansy-ass kid loved cooking, but he never complained at the results. Griffin didn’t want his dad’s volatile temper turned on him, so he’d learned to cook when Ambrose was working. He also knew to have the food hot and ready, and the kitchen clean when his dad’s shift was done.
Griff didn’t understand his father’s attitude. If you wanted to eat good food, you had to learn to make it. There were lots of male chefs.
His dad called them all kinds of nasty names, and he aimed those names at his kid, too. Griffin had learned that most of the names were usually aimed at gay people. Did he dad think all chefs were gay? And why would that matter?
In his apartment building, there were lots of people. Griffin avoided some of them, but not because they were gay. Zack and Ethan across the hall were the nicest people he knew. They let him stay with him whenever his dad lost his shit.
Zack had told him that some people were afraid of anyone who wasn’t exactly like them, and they covered their fear by spewing hate.
By watching his dad and the other creeps in the building, Griffin figured Zack and Ethan were right.
Griff grated a small amount of cheese and spread it on the warm tortillas, added the meat mix and wrapped up the enchiladas. He added more sauce to the top then cleaned up as quickly as he could. While his dad would like the meal, he wouldn’t appreciate the reminder that his son had enjoyed cooking it.
If only he could have lived with people like Zack and Ethan. Neither of them were great cooks, but they printed out recipes for him. If it was safe, he would share the leftovers with them, but they all knew that was a terrible idea.
Griffin put the enchiladas in the oven, put away the pots, and cleaned the counter. A look at the clock told him he was lucky. His dad was running late today. Maybe he’d stopped to have a beer with a buddy. That caused him to shiver. After the enchiladas were cooked, Griff would be better off spending the night in his room.
An hour later, a knock at the door had him jolting. No one ever came to their apartment. They knew better than to disturb Ambrose who still wasn’t home.
Through the peephole, Griff saw a couple of the cops who patrolled the neighborhood. Nice people, but his dad would lose it if Griffin let them in.
Officer Sheffield smiled as if she knew he was checking them out. “Griffin, it’s Officers Sheffield and Grant. It’s important we talk to you. Can you open the door please?”
Hands sweaty, he opened the door a bit. If his dad hadn’t broken the chain last week, he’d have kept it on. He knew these cops were safe, but he didn’t think he should let them in. His dad would hate cops in their apartment.
Ethan from across the hall opened the door and that helped. If his dad came home and saw him talking to cops, he could stay with Ethan while Ambrose cooled off.
Officer Sheffield nodded at Ethan, then turned back to Griff. “We have some news about your dad.”
Griffin looked down the hallway, but didn’t see him coming. He’d hate that the police were talking about him.
“Can we come in and talk, Griffin?”
He shook his head. Ethan spoke up. “Why don’t we all come into our place. Zack is here, too.”
That was better, so Griff nodded.
Once they sat around the table, Officer Sheffield turned to him. “I’m sorry, Griffin. I have bad news. There was a fight down at the pub. A bad one. Your dad was killed.”
Shock rippled through Griffin. Dead? His father was dead? “You’re sure?”
The officers nodded and Zack moved to clasp Griffin’s shoulder.
Relief swamped through him. His dad wouldn’t ever hurt him again.
Second Best: Marshall
Marshall Gibbs loved being on the ski lift as it soared higher and higher into the mountains. It was almost like flying. Everything looked small below him and it felt like he was king of the world.
“We’re gonna die.”
Marshall turned to look at Roger. His friend held onto the bar with his eyes scrunched closed.
Marsh had to stop the smile before he spoke. Roger had never skied before. Marsh couldn’t remember not loving the ski lift, but he knew lots of people started off scared. Not everyone had a mom who put them on skis before kindergarten.
“It’s really safe, Rog. I’ve been up hundreds of times.”
“But what if we fall?”
“We’re not gonna fall. The bar locks us in.” He wasn’t telling his friend that he knew how to unlock it.
“We’d break our backs. Maybe our necks. My mom would really hate it if I broke my neck.”
“Good thing we’re going to be fine. Do you think your mom will make gingerbread for Christmas?” Roger’s mom made the best gingerbread Marsh had ever tasted. His own mom was awesome, but she didn’t bake.
“I can’t eat gingerbread if I’m dead.”
Marsh couldn’t stop the laugh this time. “We’re not going to die. We’re almost there. When I tell you, put your skis on the ground and just slide off the seat.”
Roger peaked out of one eye and made a squealing sound. Instead of laughing like he wanted to, Marshall held his poles with one hand and looped his arm through Roger’s. “I’m going to help you. Make sure your skis are pointing straight ahead. Keep your knees bent a little. Relax. We’re going to be off in ten, nine…”
Roger yelped when his skis touched the snow and then Marshall guided them to the side, out of the way of the next skiers on the lift.
Roger grinned at him. “We didn’t die.”
Marshall laughed. “We didn’t die. You did great.” That was a total lie, but it made Roger laugh.
Roger looked around them and studied the hill. “It’s a lot bigger than the one we practiced on.”
“It is, but you don’t have to do anything different. Just follow me and you’ll see it’s the same.”
“You’re going to go slow, right?”
“Promise.”
It took forever to lead his friend down the hill, but Roger only fell a couple of times. They spotted lots of their classmates who weren’t doing nearly as well.
Best field trip ever.
His dad had left him and his mom a few months before and Marshall was able to love skiing again. Now he could ski for fun and not worry about being first loser. His mom didn’t care if he won or placed in any race, as long as he had fun and didn’t get hurt. His dad had only been happy if Marsh won.
He loved flying down the hills, but today, he would have just as much fun. Not everything had to be a race or have a winner.
By lunch, Roger managed to keep his eyes open on the ski lift. They went into the chalet that served the best hotdogs and fries.
They were putting their jackets back on when Mrs. Rahn approached. Their teacher had tears in her eyes. “Marshall, I need to borrow you for a few minutes. Come with me, please.”
Confused, he waved to Roger. “I’ll be back.” He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, so he shouldn’t be in trouble. Why was she sad? He’d never seen her sad before.
He followed his teacher into a small room where two police officers sat at a table. He knew he’d never done anything bad enough to make the police come. Had someone made up something to get him in trouble? He wouldn’t put it past Ezekiel. He was a rotten kid.
Mrs. Rahn motioned him to sit in a chair and she pulled hers close to his. “Marshall, these are Officers Dominguez and Bolton. They have some bad news.”
Bad news? He looked from his teacher to the officers and back.
His stomach started to shake and he gripped the chair arms like Roger had gripped the ski lift bar earlier. “My mom?”
Tears flooded Mrs. Rahn’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Marshall. So very sorry. There was a bad accident on the freeway this morning.”
“My mom?”
Mrs. Rahn squeezed his hand. “Yes. I’m sorry. She was in the accident.”
“Is she dead?”
Mrs. Rahn nodded as one of the officers spoke. “I’m sorry, Marshall. Your mother was killed when an out-of-control driver hit her vehicle.”
Tears flooded his eyes. Dead. His mom was dead.
He let the tears come.
Second Flight: Will
Will Brunswick kept the flashlight low as he flipped the pages of his book. This one was about all kinds of flying machines. From Leonardo Da Vinci’s drawings of helicopters to the Wright Brothers to Chuck Yeager to space shuttles.
He couldn’t wait to be old enough to get his license. Driving cars would be cool to start, but he was already saving his allowance for flying lessons. His parents had helped him look up the information and it was going to cost a shit-ton to pay for it all.
Even thinking the swear word had him flipping off the flashlight and listening to see if somehow his parents had heard the word in his head. They’d give him the disappointed look and he didn’t want that.
When nothing changed, he flipped the flashlight back on and studied the specs of the apache helicopter. It was cool. Only the best military pilots got to fly it.
Will would love to be one of the pilots who flew in to rescue people in dangerous situations. They were heroes and Will wanted to be a hero one day.
His dad and mom were both heroes and he was going to follow in their footsteps. His mom’s plane had been shot down, but she’d flown it to safety and kept everyone alive.
He didn’t remember her not being in the wheelchair, but the accident had happened when he’d been a baby.
His dad had stopped flying his planes and taken a job training soldiers on the base when she’d been hurt. Now that she was recovered, his mom worked with companies helping develop new and better aircraft. His dad was back to flying.
And Will was going to be like them both. A pilot. Probably helicopters. They were cooler than planes, although breaking the sound barrier sounded awesome, too.
Will’s bed shook a bit and he flipped off the light again. It wasn’t a big tremor, but his dad often checked on him after one to make sure he was okay.
Will yawned as he put the flashlight in his nightstand drawer and set the book on top.
The bed shook again and this time, he could see the models hanging from his ceiling swaying as if they were actually flying. Very cool.
He’d learn to fly all of them one day. Well, maybe not the Kitty Hawk. He’d rather have something newer than that one. Still, it would be cool to be one of the first to ever fly a plane.
The next tremor hit with more force than Will had ever heard. It threw him off the bed and the planes zoomed in crazy patterns.
The walls shook hard and then the floor bucked like a plane caught in turbulence.
The entire house shook and he knew he should head to the bathroom where it was safest.
It would take longer for his parents to get to safety. Dad would have to lift mom and get her in her chair. Their room was on the main floor so she could get out once she was in her chair.
It would be better for him to go to them.
The next shudder made the world explode. The floor tilted and he was tossed into the bathroom.
Creaks and groans like nothing he’d ever heard filled the room and he couldn’t hear his own scream above the noise.
His parents had drilled safety into his head and he knew he didn’t have time to get to them. The stairs would collapse under him. He grabbed all the towels he could and climbed into the tub, piling them on top of him.
Instead of stopping like it normally did, the shaking got worse and the noise got louder.
Creaks and groans filled the air around him and something landed on the towels, trapping him under its weight.
He’d never been so scared before. Were his mom and dad okay?
A huge crash drowned out the other sounds, pushing him further down with its weight. He didn’t know sound could be so big.
He yelled for his parents, but couldn’t hear his own voice.
And then he was falling and the ceiling came crashing down on his head.
Then everything went black.
Second Fiddle: Isaac
Isaac Fitzpatrick texted his father. “Thanks, Dad. The birthday gifts are awesome. See you when you’re done work. Love you.”
It might be a while before his dad got back to him, but he would. They’d been alone since Isaac’s mom had died from cancer last year. It was just the two of them now and they had to count on each other.
It was Saturday, so Isaac didn’t have to go to school. He could play with the two gifts his dad had left on the kitchen table. One from his dad, and one his dad figured his mom would have chosen for him.
She’d taught high school chemistry, so Isaac had known it would be something fun like the volcano kit that had been her last gift to him.
Isaac sucked back the tears. Even alone, he didn’t want to cry. He wanted to remember the fun times he’d had with her.
She definitely could have chosen this gift. A beginner’s fireworks kit. It promised to show him the way to mix the fireworks to get the explosion and the colors right. Awesome.
The gift from his dad was just as cool. A LEGO kit to build the spaceships from his favorite movies. His dad was an engineer and always encouraged Isaac to build things. His room was packed with building stuff and it was a blast to put them together and even combine the kits to make new things.
Isaac loved both the gifts but he didn’t know if he was ready to open them. He’d have more fun if he called a friend or waited until his dad came home.
They’d moved to this condo after his mom died and it wasn’t in the same school district. Isaac didn’t know anyone here well enough to call them.
Maybe he’d wait for his dad to use the kits with him, but he’d open them up so his dad knew he loved them.
A couple of hours later, he’d built the base of one of the spaceships and had set up the chemistry kit on the kitchen table and read the instructions.
His phone beeped with a text from his dad. “Hey, birthday boy. Glad you love the kits. Picking up pizza and butter tarts. See you soon. Love you.”
Isaac grinned. His dad didn’t have to work the whole day. He was coming home early to celebrate with him. They’d have a great time putting the big ship together.
Isaac knew that pizza meant they’d eat in the living room so he didn’t clear the firework kit off the table. Instead he grabbed paper plates and napkins. No getting the LEGO blocks greasy.
He watched at the window and then opened the door for his dad as he climbed the steps with his briefcase bag slung over one shoulder, a bakery bag, and a large pizza in his hands. His face was red and sweaty.
Isaac grabbed the box. “Are you okay, Dad? You look really hot.”
He grinned. “I’m okay, buddy, just breathing hard. Guess we haven’t been out on the bikes enough. I must be getting out of shape.”
Isaac grabbed them both water while his dad slumped onto the couch, still breathing hard. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He didn’t look good, but he smiled. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be fine once I catch my breath.”
But his breathing didn’t get better. When he groaned and clutched at his heart, Isaac’s own heart tried to beat out of his chest. His fingers shook as he dialed 911.
He knew it was bad when his dad didn’t complain about him calling for help.
Once the ambulance was on the way, he grabbed his dad’s hand. “They’re coming.”
His dad opened one eye. Issac thought he tried to smile, but it didn’t work. “Love you, Isaac.”
“I love you too, dad.”
His body shuddered once and slumped. His dad’s hand went slack in his. The ambulance arrived, but Isaac knew it was too late. His dad was gone.
Second Wind: Blake
Blake Jarvis wished the cooler was in the seat beside him instead of in the back of the SUV. He could really go for one of his mom’s brownies right now.
His dad shot him a grin in the rearview mirror. “Next rest stop we find, I’m pulling in. We need a brownie fix.”
Blake and his mom laughed. She turned to grin at him. “It’s only a two hour drive, I think you both could survive that long.”
His dad reached over and took his mom’s hand. “If they’re in smelling distance, they’re hard to ignore.”
The next road sign showed the mountain twisting in front of them with a rest stop only three miles away. Three miles until brownies.
The roads were almost as twisty as the roller coaters from their summer trip, but the mountains made it scarier. There were lots of twists and turns and the snow made it slippery.
His dad swore and made Blake look up. His dad never swore in front of him. Never.
“Heads down. Both of you. Cover your heads with your arms.”
The fear in his voice had Blake following instructions, although he shot a look behind them first. A huge semi truck appeared behind them. Way too close.
When the truck hit their bumper, Blake hit his mom’s seat, despite his seatbelt holding him in place.
His dad kept swearing and the SUV twisted from side to side. Then they were flying.
He felt them bounce once before he passed out.
A bright light in his face woke him up. The window beside him was broken and a man wearing a bright green jacket reached through the window and opened the door beside him. Blake head felt like he was on one of those twisty roller coasters.
“Try to relax, bud. We’re going to ge you out of here.”
“Mom. Dad. Are you okay?”
His dad was slumped over the wheel. The airbag had deflated and Blake could see blood. “Dad. Wake up, Dad. Are you okay? How’s mom? Mom!”
A woman wearing bright yellow touched his arm, her voice soft. “My name is Brandy and we’re here to help. Can you tell me your name and if anything hurts?”
“I’m okay. How are my parents? Why won’t my dad answer me? How’s my mom?”
Brandy checked his pulse. “Let’s get you out of here first. Someone else is going to help them.”
“No. I’m okay. Check on them. Help them. Mom! Dad!”
Despite his protests, Brandy and the man lifted him out of the car and set him on a gurney. His shoulder and leg hurt like crazy and he was dizzy, but he was okay. “Help them, please help them.”
He saw more people in fluorescent jackets. Brandy hadn’t lied. There were more people and they would help his parents.
Brandy and the man strapped Blake’s gurney to some ropes and then they climbed up the side of the mountain on their own ropes, keeping him between them. They didn’t answer any questions about his parents and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. He knew they were concentrating on getting up the mountain. But he also knew if his parents were okay, they’d tell him that too.
Were they dead? He didn’t want to ask any more questions because he didn’t want to know the answers.
On the road, lights flashed from ambulances and police cars. EMTs rushed to help the people who’d brought him up the mountain. They started asking him questions and doing tests.
He swallowed hard and touched Brandy’s arm. “Are they dead? Are my mom and dad dead? You have to tell me. I have to know.”
Her eyes misted with tears and she shifted to squeeze his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
The rest of her words faded away as sobs wracked his body. They were dead.
Second To None: Parker
Parker Panadero wanted to be a normal kid. One who stayed in one place and went to the same school for months at a time. But his dad had moved them into another lady’s house and he had a new school.
This was another rich lady who seemed nice enough. When his dad told her that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, she giggled and smiled. Like every other woman they’d lived with.
Parker had heard people call Alberto Panadero a charming bastard. Even more called him a con man.
Parker wasn’t completely sure what that meant, but he knew his dad made people really happy, until suddenly they were angry, which meant Parker would be in a new school soon.
He’d learned to live out of a duffel bag and never believe his dad when he told them he’d found them a permanent home. It was always temporary.
Parker had slept in creepy hotel rooms while his dad played poker with other men. Other times, they stayed in fancy hotel rooms and ordered room service. It was never long before they moved into another lady’s house. Sometimes they slept in the car as they moved on to a new city.
Parker had it better than most. His dad was a happy guy and would never hurt him. They had lots of fun together. When they moved in with a woman, Parker knew she would be kind to him, too. His dad took care of him and made sure he was safe.
Parker pulled out his running sneakers. His dad knew he loved to run and always bought him good ones, even when his feet kept growing.
Running was the best way to get to know the new neighborhood. He had a good sense of direction and he paid attention so he never got lost.
Parker warmed up in front of the three-car garage. Gardeners worked in the yard and he double-checked the house number before he took off.
The house was at the end of a fancy cul-de-sac with gates at the end. He stopped at the little guard house and spoke to the man inside. He’d learned the hard way that it was a good idea to know the lady’s name and address and to introduce himself so they’d let him back in through the gate. Sneaking through yards and over fences was never fun.
Parker ran, automatically tracking his route so it would be easy to turn around and get back. He kept his ear buds in but didn’t listen to music. He liked knowing who was around him but the ear buds discouraged conversation.
Parker sprinted hard when the streets were empty, then kept it to a run in the more crowded spots.
It would be track season at school soon and he hoped his dad didn’t have them moving on before it finished. Last year, he’d qualified for the state championships even though he wasn’t as old as most of the people in his division.
They’d had to move before then. Maybe this year he could compete. It would be fun to run with other people who loved it. Maybe they’d even stay long enough for him to find a running partner.
When he arrived back at the gate, he spotted his dad’s car parked nearby. They were moving on already?
His dad waved with a big grin and Parker climbed into the car. “Did you grab my bag?”
Alberto laughed. “Of course. I’ve got a line on a big game. We’re heading to Florida.”
Parker kept the sigh internal. They’d never been to Florida, but Parker knew it would be hot. They’d probably move on before it got too bad, though.
“Florida’s going to be our place, Parker. I bet we can find what we need in Florida.”
His dad said the same thing every time they moved and it made Parker smile. His dad was a happy guy. He just wished he could be happy in one place long enough to find a home.
Second Time Around: Ina
Ina MacPhail pulled a tray of cookies from the oven. Eight boys in the house at one time was a lot, but she couldn’t be happier. She saved all year in order to buy special gifts and to make multiple batches of everyone’s favorite cookies for Christmas.
Snickerdoodles, brownies, butter tarts, shortbread, sugar cookies, gingerbread men, peanut butter, and good old chocolate chip.
Their eight boys were an eclectic bunch and their taste in cookies were just as varied.
She remembered when Archie had suggested they should foster some children. She’d thought they’d only have the boys for a short time before they were returned to their parents or adopted, but they’d each become their family—their kids—as real as any children she could have borne if her body had cooperated.
Archie had been right, not that she needed to tell him that. He bragged about it all the time.
Smiling at the memories, she placed trays of chocolate chip cookies into the oven. Those were Fletcher’s choice. No matter which fancy treat she baked, he loved the basic chocolate chip the best.
She blinked away tears at the thought that this might be their last Christmas together for a while. Fletcher, with his strong sense of duty and responsibility, was joining the military and would be leaving in a few weeks. He wanted to help people around the world.
Fletcher’s birth father had been an enforcer for a gang and her boy had been bewildered when he’d arrived in their home. He hadn’t spent a day in school before that and he soaked up everything they could teach him. He’d grown to be such a good man. Always helping out the younger boys, assuring them they were safe and welcome in their home.
She knew her boys wouldn’t stay forever. They were all becoming good men. Hearts that were battered and bruised, but solid gold at the center.
Maybe she and Archie could talk them all into coming home for Christmas every year. She’d love to have her kitchen filled with all her boys, past and present, for the rest of her life.
The back door opened and Archie crossed to wrap her in his arms. Her heartbeat accelerated like it always did when he smiled.
His eyes twinkled as he brushed his lips over hers. “Hello, gorgeous.”
She laughed. “Hello, my handsome man.”
Archie’s gaze flicked to the timer on the stove. “Nine minutes before that batch need to come out. What could we possibly do to fill those nine minutes?”
Then his lips were on hers and he kissed her until every thought flew out of her head. The man could kiss.
“They’re at it again.”
The smile in the manly voice had them breaking apart, but Archie held her tightly as he grinned at Fletcher who led a trail of boys into the kitchen.
“Get lost fellas. I’m spending time with the prettiest woman in the universe.”
Ina’s face flushed as she laughed and the timer beeped.
Griffin grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the trays out of the oven and slipped in the next set. She didn’t have to worry about the cookies with him in charge.
Hands reached for the too-hot cookies as soon as Griffin set them on the cooling racks. Every time. They knew better, but they never let them cool.
Sure enough, there was laughter as they gobbled down the fresh cookies and waved their hands in front of their faces as if that would cool them off.
Archie kissed her temple then whispered in her ear. “We’ve got the best family ever. Thanks for being the best mama they could ever have.”
Her eyes misted with tears and Archie brushed them away and grinned as he turned to their boys. “You’re a bunch of hooligans.”
Then he grabbed his own too-hot cookie and imitated their actions until everyone was laughing.
Life was so good. Too good not to participate. Ina took another cookie. “Here’s to the best hooligans in the world.”
The kitchen—and her heart—filled with cheers and love. She had the very best life.
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this bonus prequel to the Second Chances Resort small-town romance series!
The first book in the series is Second Look spotlighting Fletcher and Callie.
You’re going to love watching these two find their second chances at the resort!
