CHAPTER ONE
SAMMY
I slipped my key into the lock, opening the door and walking into the house. Immediately, I was surrounded by the familiar scent. The one that reminded me of my mom. Of home. Sage and citrus. Fresh, clean, and warm.
“Dad?” I called out, hearing noises from the back of the house.
“In here,” his voice returned my greeting. “In the garage.”
I headed to the back of the house and out the door leading to the garage. My dad, Vince Morrison, or Van to everyone who knew him, was standing amid boxes, scratching his head.
“Hey,” I greeted.
His face broke into a wide smile. “Hey, Mouse.”
I couldn’t stop my own smile at his greeting. He had nicknamed me Mouse when he’d started dating my mother and had never stopped calling me that. I could still recall that day as vividly as if it were only yesterday. Van, standing tall and broad in my mother’s office doorway, smiling and friendly. Taking me to his office and coloring with me, feeding me a lemon Danish so Mom could finish her work. Coming with us to lunch. Listening to me as I talked his ear off. I was convinced he was a giant. The truth was, he was only a man—but to me, a great one. He married my mom and became the best father a girl could ask for. Loving, protective, kind, and fun. He adopted me, then he and Mom adopted my brother Reed, and finally my sister Amelia. Together, we became a family.
“Hi, Dad. What on earth are you doing?”
He chuckled, shifting another box. “Believe it or not, there are still boxes we haven’t unpacked since we moved out here to Port Albany permanently. Your mom suddenly remembered a cookbook she hadn’t thought of in years and wanted a recipe from it. I was looking for it.”
I laughed. “Probably easier to look online.”
He shook his head. “It was her mom’s and handwritten. She searched everywhere in the house for it. I thought I would find it in one of these boxes.”
I smiled at him. When my grandmother had passed a few years ago, my mom had been incredibly sad, and my dad had helped her through that terrible period. It didn’t surprise me that he would dig through boxes looking for a recipe for her; that was the sort of man he was.
“Can I help?”
“She says it was in a small notebook. Spiral-bound—she thinks yellow.”
“Oh, I remember that. Grammie kept it on the shelf in her cupboard.”
He nodded. “Most of this is design stuff and things you kids made that Mom couldn’t part with. But a couple of boxes are labeled ‘Kitchen Miscellaneous.’”
“I’ll look through one.”
He lifted a box down in front of me, then kissed my cheek. “Thanks, Mouse.”
Ten minutes later, I held up the faded yellow spiral-bound notebook. The cover was bent and torn, stained with splashes of water and various ingredients. “Got it!”
He grinned. “Awesome. Liv will be thrilled. I have a feeling I’ll be having a new dish for dinner later.”
I returned his grin, then clapped my hands in delight when I saw what was by his workbench. “Is that my old bookcase?”
He nodded. “I’m giving it a fresh coat of paint and sparkle.”
I laughed, running my hand over the smooth wood. He had made this bookcase for me when I was a little girl and loved everything pink, glittery, and princess-y. Since then, it had been used by other girls in the family and was well loved. “It needs some fresh glitter.”
He grimaced. “I never thought I’d still be in the glitter phase all these years later. But here I am.”
I nudged him. “You love it.”
He shook his head, but I knew I was right. He loved seeing the bookcase in a new room, being used all over again.
He held out his hand. “Come have coffee with your old man and catch him up.”
“You don’t want to clean this up?”
“No, it’s time to go through it and either get rid of it or get it in scrapbooks. Your mom always planned on doing that. I’ll help her sort through the stuff, and it’ll give her a project to do.” He smirked. “Maybe I can get a little more room in the garage, then.”
I laughed and took his hand, following him to the kitchen. He puttered around, making coffee as I filled a plate with cookies. Mom always had cookies on hand. Dad had a sweet tooth, and he ate them daily. He still worked out every day so he could afford the treats.
He set down a mug of coffee in front of me and reached for a cookie, biting down with a satisfied hum.
“Where is Mom?”
“Out with Emmy, Cami, and Dee. Apparently the boys were wrestling a little too enthusiastically last Sunday, and we need a new sofa in the Hub.”
