THEN CAME YOU (The Youngers #1)

Chapter One Violet Fielding grimaced when her phone started ringing for what felt like the millionth time that day. She didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know it was a creditor calling. Switching her phone to vibrate, she decided she’d earned a bit of denial time. If she didn’t hear or see the phone calls, then they didn’t exist, right? Violet felt her desk vibrate with another phone call. Swearing under her breath, she turned her phone off and was halfway tempted to throw it out the window for good measure. Except she couldn’t afford to buy a new phone just because she wanted to break her current one in a fit of pique. Her desk was currently covered in beads, wires, charms, and crystals, all part of her jewelry business that she’d started four years prior. A necklace she had begun for one of her favorite clients sat on her desk, only half-finished, and it seemed to be judging her silently. “Don’t look at me like that,” Violet muttered at the necklace. She pushed it aside. If she was talking to inanimate objects now, she definitely needed a break. Maybe a vacation far, far away. Did creditors exist in places like Siberia? Violet blew out a breath. She was thirty-three, a widow, and she’d recently moved to the small town of Fair Haven, Washington. Violet had moved in with her mother-in-law, Martha Fielding, to help care for her, although Martha would adamantly deny that she needed any help. Even at sixty-six, she was a fiery woman who wasn’t about to let anyone coddle her. Violet loved her for it and had thought of her as a second mother figure from the moment Violet’s husband, William, gone two years now, had first introduced them. “Violet, are you hungry?” Martha called from the hallway. “I’m starving. Do you want me to order takeout for dinner?” Considering that Martha suffered from diabetes, she definitely didn’t need to be eating pizza or Chinese. “No, I’ll make something,” said Violet as she went to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, but despite the plethora of potential ingredients, her brain was too distracted to think of anything to make. “Just not that kale soup,” said Martha as she snagged a sparkling water from around Violet. Martha’s soda addiction had had to end when her diabetes had worsened within the last two years. She’d given up sugary soda for diet soda, but Violet had persuaded her to try sparkling water instead. Martha had only agreed on the condition that Violet promise not to force her to eat tofu ever again. “We don’t have kale anyway.” Violet took out some chicken, some spinach, and a lemon, but when she realized ten minutes later that she’d forgotten to turn on the burner to boil the water for pasta, she uttered a few choice words. Martha clucked her tongue at Violet’s swearing. She was a wiry woman with bright silvery-blond hair and oversized plastic glasses that she’d worn since the early 80s. She was barely five feet tall, but that didn’t stop her from wearing ridiculously tall high heels. Always stylish, she continued to match her purse with her shoes and wore hats like she had in her youth. “People not wearing hats anymore is a travesty,” she always bemoaned. “In my day, no woman went outside without one on.” “You seem distracted,” Martha remarked as Violet began de-stemming the spinach. Martha made a face at the sparkling water she was attempting to drink but kept sipping it anyway. “Anything the matter?” Considering that Violet had promised Martha she’d take care of her from now on, she wasn’t about to tell her about how her jewelry business was collapsing in on itself, or how she owed more than she made. She’d thought that she’d be able to make things right, that it was just a brief hiccup. Now she wasn’t so sure the ship could be kept from sinking. “Nothing’s wrong. When was the last time you tested your blood sugar?” “Oh, don’t fuss. I’m a grown woman. I’m fine. I keep telling you. All these tests and pills.” Martha scoffed. “When I was a girl—” “You used leeches and prayer when you were sick?” Violet smiled. “Don’t be rude to your elders.” Martha took another sip of her water and frowned. “We definitely didn’t drink schlock like this.” When Martha frowned like that, she reminded Violet of William. William had been the love of Violet’s life. They’d met in college at the University of Washington. William had seemed an odd choice for Violet, a popular sorority girl who had wanted to go into fashion design. William had been bookish, an engineering major, but when they’d had to work on a group project for their ancient history class, he’d surprised Violet and asked her out. To everyone’s shock, she’d said yes. They’d gotten engaged right out of college and had been married a year later. Only eight years after that, William had died one rainy night when his car had been T-boned. William had been killed instantly from the impact. Violet would never forget getting the call from the police officer that night, telling her there had been an accident and that her husband hadn’t survived. She pushed the memories aside. She could do that now, to some extent. The grief still lurked and took hold of her at times, but it wasn’t as often as in the beginning. Sometimes Violet could even see a future for herself: one that no longer included William. “What do you want to do tonight? Dominoes or checkers?” Violet asked as she and Martha ate dinner together. Martha’s eagle-eyed gaze made Violet want to squirm in her seat. “Why don’t you go out for once? You don’t need to stay in and entertain an old woman every night.” “I like entertaining old women.” “I think you use it as an excuse to avoid interacting with anyone your age. Especially anyone male.” Martha’s expression softened. “I know how much you loved my son. I miss him too, every day. But I knew the day that I lost my dear Harold that you can’t stop living life when you lose people. Because then what’s the point of living?” Violet’s throat closed. Was she avoiding living life, even two years later? It was true that she hadn’t looked at a man since William’s death. It would feel like a betrayal. She twisted her wedding ring, which she continued to wear every day, around her finger. “I just moved here. Where would I go?” “Oh, honey, it’s a small town. Where else? Go to a bar. Get a drink. Meet a man. Maybe go home with him.” Violet almost choked on her water. “Martha!” “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m old, not dead. Nothing wrong with enjoying some male companionship. Why, I’ve been meaning to call up Dennis—” Violet held up a hand, stifling wild laughter. “Please, no, I don’t want to know.” “And your generation says my generation is prudish. You have to get out there. You’re young. You could marry again. Don’t hide behind William’s death. I know it’s hard to get back up into the saddle, but trust me: if anyone can do it, you can.” Violet peered more closely at Martha. “What’s this all about suddenly?” “Nothing.” At Violet’s skeptical look, she added, “Okay, maybe not nothing. There’s a singles’ meet-and-greet tonight—” Violet groaned. “God, no, please. I’ve done those.” “You did one once a year ago and you stayed for fifteen minutes, or so you told me. You have to actually try.” Martha pulled out a folded piece of paper and pushed it toward Violet. “You should go.” “Martha—” “No, don’t. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, how you moved here, how you help me. This is me helping you.” Violet smiled, feeling her eyes getting damp, and she squeezed Martha’s hand in silent thanks. Before either of them could be reduced to tears, Violet changed the subject, deciding she’d much rather hear about Martha’s male companion, Dennis, than think about William or her own mess of a life. Violet didn’t want to go to a singles’ meet-and-greet, because if she met someone new, that would mean William was truly gone. It meant she had to open herself up to potential heartbreak all over again. How could she fall in love when she’d already lost the love of her life? But she also wanted to make Martha happy. So she put on her big girl panties (which were actually tiny panties that seemed more appropriate for meeting men), her newest top and a necklace she’d made for herself before applying bright red lipstick and a little mascara. After a brief hesitation, she took off her wedding ring. It was just for the night, she told herself. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she looked tired. At least bars were dark, and hopefully nobody would notice the bags under her eyes. “Have a good time,” said Martha, already happily ensconced in her favorite recliner, watching her soap operas she’d recorded earlier that day. “Don’t forget to smile!” Smile, yes. Men liked women who smiled. They didn’t so much like women who cried when they heard songs that reminded them of their dead husbands, or who had creditors beating down their doors for money, or— This will end well. Violet laughed under her breath. At least she’d hopefully get a free drink or two out of the bargain. When she arrived at the bar called the Fainting Goat, she breathed in the scents of greasy food and booze while trying to steady her pounding heart. The bar was packed, and she couldn’t tell if everyone was here for this singles’ thing or if there were multiple parties here. She saw pink balloons in one part of the bar. When she got closer, she saw that one group seemed to be having a birthday party for a baby. Who had a party for a baby at a bar? “Are you here for the singles’ meet-and-greet?” a woman chirped before Violet could uncover the mystery behind the baby’s bar birthday. “You look lost.” Violet laughed awkwardly. “Only a little. Is everyone here for this?” “No, but we’re the biggest group. Come sit with us and I’ll introduce you. There aren’t as many men here as I’d hoped. I’m Amber, by the way.” “Nice to meet you.” Amber sat Violet down at a long table in the back where the meet-and-greet seemed to be happening. Although at the moment, it wasn’t so much meeting and greeting as “avoiding eye contact and staring at your phone” instead. “Hi there. I’m Violet.” Violet held out her hand to the man to her right. He muttered something under his breath at whatever he saw on his phone before looking up at her. “Hi, I’m Eddy. You go to things like this often? I can never find any women worth talking to.” Okay. “You know, I’m going to get a drink. Want anything?” “I don’t drink.” Rolling her eyes, she pushed through the crowd to the bar. If she was going to stay, she needed booze. The strongest they had, preferably. “I’ll have a gin and tonic,” she told the bartender. “With extra gin.” The bartender was a man who seemed barely older than a high school student, yet his bartending skills were clearly those of a man who’d been in the business for years. Violet gave him an extra-large tip after he successfully tossed the bottle of gin into the air and caught it just as smoothly. She drank her gin and tonic, savoring the coldness of the alcohol. People chatted and laughed all around her. She knew she should return to Amber and try talking to another single man, but she didn’t have the heart for it. What was so wrong about being single? This wasn’t Jane Austen: she wouldn’t starve if she didn’t find her own Mr. Darcy. She turned and found herself with a perfect view of the birthday party. The baby, she realized, wasn’t so much a baby as a toddler, and she seemed entranced by the giant pink birthday cake in front of her. A bunch of adults laughed when she tried to imitate the woman next to her by blowing out the candles—her mother, Violet presumed. A blond man with tattoos on his arms stood behind the toddler and helped her finish blowing out her second candle. The adults all clapped and cheered. Another man with reddish-gold hair laughed, his teeth flashing in the dim light, when the toddler grabbed at her piece of cake with both hands and smeared her face with the pink frosting. The toddler squealed something that sounded like, “Cake!” in between pushing fistfuls of the cake and frosting into her mouth. “Good one, Bea,” the man said with a chuckle. “That’s how to enjoy your birthday.” When the man turned toward her in profile, she couldn’t help but find herself arrested by him. He had a square jaw, his nose aquiline, and she’d never seen hair quite that color. It was almost berry-colored, she thought. Her heart started pounding, especially when the man caught her staring and sent her a slow grin that she felt all the way to her toes. She whirled around on her barstool and took such a deep drink of her gin and tonic that she started coughing. How awkward! Now that man would think she was a total weirdo who just stared at people for no reason. “Can I get a glass of water?” she asked the bartender, her eyes watering. As if he knew that her life was a mess, he looked sympathetic as he pushed a glass toward her. “Don’t drink it too fast,” he admonished. I’m probably old enough to be your mother, she thought in irritation. Drinking the water, she dabbed at her eyes and hoped to God that the man hadn’t seen her sputtering like a stopped-up chimney. “What are you drinking? Gin and tonic?” Eddy slid in next to her and motioned at the bartender. “I’ve never liked gin and tonic. Bartender, can I get a Coke?” The bartender rolled his eyes when Eddy wasn’t looking, causing Violet to stifle laughter. “Oh, no ice. Sorry. Hurts my teeth.” Eddy pushed the Coke back toward the bartender. “Are you having fun?” he asked Violet. “Oh, loads.” “That’s surprising. I never have fun at these things. They’re always rather dull.” She had to bite her tongue in half from saying something snarky. When Eddy received his Coke sans ice and started drinking it through a tiny straw, though, she almost started choking from trying to hold back her laughter. “Sorry, man, but this is my date,” a rumbling voice said over Violet’s shoulder. “Could you move?” Eddy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but when the man moved toward him with a determined look, Eddy scrambled down and scuttled away. To Violet’s surprise, the man she’d been staring at slid in next to her and grinned, a grin that surely had to be illegal in all fifty states. “I’m Ash Younger,” he said, smooth as silk. “How is it I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you here before?”