Note to Readers
Paige Cordell felt as if she had regressed back to that awkward, frizzy-haired bookworm who’d left Sage Creek, Texas, fourteen years ago. With no intention of ever returning.
And yet here she was. As a divorced unemployed single mother no less.
Nothing screamed failure like sitting in Mom’s driveway with all of her belongings crammed into a U-Haul hitched to her car.
She glanced back at little Ava, sleeping soundly in her car seat. She looked so peaceful with her rosy cheeks, the halo of red curls and the slight part of her lips. As if she hadn’t just spent nearly an hour fussing, not that Paige could blame her. They’d had quite the drive. Traffic, work zones, an accident just outside of Houston.
Her phone rang. Paige glanced at the screen. It was Mira, her old high school friend.
“Hey.”
“Just checking you made it into town okay. And to see if maybe you’d like to stop by my place for a nice cold milkshake.”
“Just got in.” She explained the reason for her three-hour delay. “And though I appreciate the offer, I’m wiped.”
“I imagine.”
“And discouraged. I know I’ll find another job eventually...”
“Have you prayed about it?” Mira’s statement sliced through Paige like an accusation. “Might help.”
“Please don’t talk religion to me. Not today.” She believed in God. But unlike her friend, she didn’t find comfort in tossing every decision up to Him.
Besides, she and God hadn’t exactly been on the best terms as of late.
“Well, like I said, this is only a hiccup.” Mira’s overly perky pep talk wasn’t helping. “Consider this an extended vacation.”
“I can’t believe Ardell let me go. I mean, I get budget cuts, but why me? I was a high performer. I never missed a deadline, pitched great article ideas...”
“You’ll find something even better with more job security.”
Paige inhaled a fortifying breath. “You’re right.” She’d never allowed setbacks to discourage her before, and she had no intention of starting now. “Maybe even for a better magazine with a larger readership.”
Only, Chic Fashions was about as big as they came. Not only was it Chicago’s premier fashion publication, but it was considered the top in the nation. She’d worked long and hard to land a position with them, only to end up jobless and living with her mother.
The antithesis of adulthood.
She glanced at Mom’s single-story brick house, heavily shadowed by a towering oak. Thick roots snaked through the grass, and a handful of dandelions dotted the lawn. The windows were dingy, like they hadn’t been washed in...ever, and the canary-yellow trim