Her Surprise Family

Shelby glanced behind her at the house, and suddenly she was overwhelmed. How was she going to get all of it done? She sighed tiredly, remembering how hard she’d worked and saved for this place. Now this was her home. Excitement raced through her. Stewart Manor was hers.

She turned and surveyed the vast lawn. It wasn’t so much grass as two acres of knee-high weeds. The dozen or so maple trees could stand to be trimmed. So could the hedge that lined the wrought-iron fence bordering the property.

She stood and went down the steps, refusing to let herself get depressed. All her life she’d managed to handle anything that had been tossed at her, and she’d survived. With this place there was a lot to do, but she could handle it.

Making her way to the rear of the house, she realized that this area wasn’t in any better shape than the front Weeds were everywhere. The large rose garden had been neglected, but there were some bushes that had survived the neglect.

Shelby continued her inspection of the property and followed the old brick walkway past a row of trees. She froze at the sight of a little cottage, its paint peeling and most of its windows broken. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she kept moving through the high grass toward the building.

A rusty glider swing sat on the small porch, which made memories flood her head. A hot Indiana summer, and she and her mom sitting on that very swing, waiting for rain to cool things off. Shelby had only been six years old, but that period in her life had been tucked neatly into her heart as the happiest time she’d ever spent with her mother. The last summer they were together—before Nola went away.

She felt a chill course through her, and her emotions threatened to surface. She was unable to stop the recollection of the nice woman who used to come and visit them at the cottage. A woman who lived in Stewart Manor and her name was Miss Hannah. She was pretty and always smiling. When she visited in the evenings, she’d bring cookies or ice cream. One time she brought a doll.

Then one night when Miss Hannah came by, Nola sent her daughter to bed.

But that didn’t stop Shelby from hearing their argument. The next day, Nola packed up their shabby suitcases and they left Stewart Manor. A bus took them away, and her mother never explained why.

Not long after that, Nola hooked up with another man, Orin Harris. Nola said he was going to be her daddy. Shelby didn’t want a daddy, especially someone who was mean to her mother. Besides, Orin and Nola were always drunk and at night they’d fight. One day her mother had gotten sick, and with no other relatives to take Shelby, she had been put in foster care. She never saw or heard from her mother again. Later she was told she had died.

Shelby was almost overcome with sadness. But she drew a shaky breath and fought it, as she had so many times. Denial was her protection against getting hurt.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

With a startled gasp, Shelby jerked around to find an old man standing in the rose arbor. He was short, and as he walked toward her, she noticed he had a slight limp. He had snowy white hair and a ruddy complexion, and his smile let her know he wasn’t a threat.

“May I help you?” Shelby asked.

“I’m Ely Cullen, ma’am.” He held out his hand.

She shook it and felt his work-hardened hand. “Hello, Ely. I’m Shelby Harris.”

“I know. The town’s been buzzing about the new owner of Stewart Manor. I was down at the hardware store earlier when I thought I should come by to welcome you to town.” He glanced around and sighed. “It sure was a fine place in its day.” His hazel eyes returned to her. “Could be again.”

“It’s going to take a long time and a lot of money,” Shelby said. “But I plan to turn the manor into a bed-and-breakfast.”

Ely nodded. “Could you use some help getting the grounds in shape?”

Shelby’s spirits soared. “I’d love it. But right now all I can afford are these two hands.” She held them up.

“What if you didn’t have to pay?”

Shelby paused and eyed the old man closely. She didn’t like to take handouts. And he couldn’t possibly handle the hot, humid summer weather. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr. Cullen, but this is a big job.”

“I know. I did it for over thirty years.”

She stared at the man. “You were the gardener for Stewart Manor?”

He nodded happily. “I used to prune Miss Hannah’s prize-winning roses. Mowed the lawns and trimmed all the hedges. Now I know I’m older and slower these days, but it’s been hard for me to stand by and watch the place go downhill since Miss Hannah’s passing.” His eyes raised to Shelby’s. “I can still be useful.”

“You sure? I could really use the help, Ely, but I don’t want you to be overworked.”

“I won’t, ’cause I’m going to bring my grandson with me to do the heavy stuff.”

“Then I have to insist on paying him.”

He smiled. “We’ll work something out. Right now let’s just spruce up the place a little.”

“I want that as badly as you do,” Shelby said, finally feeling as if things were going in her favor.

Later that afternoon Rafe walked into Maria’s Ristorante and sat down at the end of the bar in the section reserved for Maria’s family.

He was a little early for dinner, but he wanted to talk to his brother, Rick, and this was the best place to find him. Rick’s wife, Jill, had agreed to work the afternoon shift until she began her teaching job in the fall. The two had only been married a month and they were inseparable.

Rafe envied his brother. Rick had found love, and more importantly, he hadn’t been afraid to go after what he wanted. That had been Jill. Rafe hadn’t had time to find and court a wife. Not that he’d wanted one.

If the Covelli curse wasn’t enough to deter Rafe from finding love, he’d had plenty to handle since his father’s accident and death two years ago. Being the eldest son, Rafe had been responsible for Nonna Vittoria, his mother, Maria, and sister, Angelina. And he couldn’t forget the family construction business, Covelli and Sons. Things had gone sour when his father’s accident had been blamed on substandard materials, and Rafaele Covelli, Sr., had been the contractor for the building. It had taken a few months, but with the help of Rick and their cousin Tony, Rafe had gotten the business back on track. They were still searching for the creeps responsible for the accident, and Rafe vowed he wasn’t going to stop until he’d cleared his father’s name.

Recently the family had branched out into different business ventures and were doing well. They even had enough work to employ a bigger crew. But Covelli and Sons had never been about quantity. It was quality that counted, and Rafe had always been the best custom carpenter he could be. His dad taught him that.

That was why he’d laid down the law to Shelby Harris. He remembered the way he’d left her on the porch of Stewart Manor. Her long, jean-clad legs, her emerald-green eyes... Why did he feel as if he’d deserted her?

Because he knew Gus Norton did shoddy work. That man was quick to cut corners. Rafe hated the thought of Gus laying his grimy hand on any of the beautiful woodwork in that house.

“Hey, bro.”

Rafe turned to see Rick coming toward him carrying Jill’s son, Lucas. The eighteen-month-old boy grinned and reached out for his newly acquired uncle.

Rafe took the boy and sat him on the bar. “Hello, Lucas.”

“Hi,” Lucas said, acting shy.

Rafe looked at his brother. “I take it you’re both visiting a certain pretty blond waitress.”

“Yeah,” Rick said as his gaze wandered over to where Jill waited on a table. “It’s tough having her at work all day.”

“Poor thing.” He tickled his nephew’s chin. “Most people have to work for a living.”

“Hey, I work,” Rick said. “I’ve been replacing the hardwood flooring in the living room at the house.” He was talking about the Victorian home on Ash Street that he and Jill had bought a few months back. After moving in a month ago, they’d decided to take their time and redo each room. So far they’d finished the kitchen, master bedroom and Lucas’s room.

“I ran into another fixer upper today. Shelby Harris.”

“She’s the one who bought the big old Stewart place?”

“Yeah. She plans on opening a bed-and-breakfast. It’s a mess right now. You could spend months working on that place. But the craftsmanship is incredible. Dad would have loved it.”

“Didn’t he do some work there when we were kids?”

Rafe nodded. “He designed kitchen cabinets for Mrs. Stewart about twenty years ago. I didn’t go in the kitchen today.”