One Hundred Regrets Read online

  One Hundred Regrets

  Kelly Collins

  Copyright © 2019 by Kelley Maestas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Victoria Cooper Art

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Sneak Peek of One Hundred Choices

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  Chapter One

  Abby Garrett burst through her front door with a song on her lips and warmth in her heart. Spring had come to Aspen Cove, and she was ready to shake off the winter doldrums.

  With a towel in her hand, she traipsed through a field of ankle-high grass toward the pond on the land beside hers.

  It was her ritual to take a dip in the cool water on the first day of spring. Today was perfect because the sun was up, the skies were blue, and off in the distance, the beautiful buzz of bees filled the air. Her hives were coming to life.

  Many people in Aspen Cove would dive into the lake, but she wouldn’t. Big bodies of water warmed more slowly, and the small pond was perfect for what she needed—a brisk dip to celebrate a new beginning.

  At the edge, she slipped out of her clothes and dipped her toe into the frigid water. She could almost hear her mother tell her to jump in with both feet.

  Mabel Garrett was always one to give advice but not to take it. She’d never been a fan of the property that sat between the peaks—a valley carved out by harsh weather and pioneers. No, her mother enjoyed living in the town where the gossip was ripe, the coffee was hot, and Peter Larkin was always ready.

  She shuddered to think her mother had ever fallen into bed with the man who never matched his socks or his shoes, but then again, loneliness often made people more attractive. It was funny how a three on the hot scale could become a seven if the heart ached for companionship.

  She looked over her shoulder to make sure Eden hadn’t arrived early, and when the coast was clear, she walked into the shallow end bare ass naked and dove under to surface at the deep end of the pond.

  “Holy hell,” she screamed as she broke through the water and sucked in a lungful of air. She sank back down and pushed off the slick rock bottom before turning on her back to float a bit.

  The clouds rushed by as she watched them turn from billowing white puffs into whatever her imagination could conjure.

  This was a favorite pastime of hers. To lie in a meadow of clover and watch a cloud turn into a sailboat, a rabbit, a sunflower, or on a good day, a man.

  “That’s the only man you’ll ever get,” she said out loud. “And like the real ones, they’re fleeting; taken away by a wind or a prettier woman.”

  On that somber note, she swam to the shallows and emerged from the water. Puddles pooled at her feet. She reached for her towel and wrapped it around her body, gathered up her things and walked back to her cabin feeling refreshed and renewed. Spring was bringing her something new, she could smell it on the air, or maybe that was the fresh bloomed clover cushioning her feet as she walked the path to her home.

  Every time she took it in from a distance, she was proud of the people who had built it—her ancestors. How they’d seen the potential of a piece of land tucked away from everything else. It was as if they knew she’d need a place of her own when the world outside was harsh.

  Once showered and dressed, she prepared a pot of hot water, and set out two teacups. It wasn’t every day she got company. In fact, she rarely had visitors. The last one had been Tilden, and he’d been delivering firewood, so it wasn’t exactly a social visit.

  The sound of tires on gravel caused her stomach to drop. She wasn’t good with people. She was better with bees. At least their sting hurt less. She never knew if people’s intentions were good or not. At least with bees, they were predictable. They flew around, collected pollen, and came back to the hive, only to do it again. If she stood in their way, they would sting. They fought fiercely for their queen. She envied their loyalty.

  Thinking of bees and honey, she pulled a honey jar and a dipper from the shelf and plated up some honeycomb and fresh scones, then waited for Eden to arrive. She opened the door when her guest parked.

  Eden climbed from the car. She smiled, and the weight of social anxiety dissipated. Abby wasn’t sure how she felt about the woman who’d stolen the heart of her last crush.

  Stolen wasn’t exactly the right word because Thomas had never returned her affections. He was always kind and considerate, but he wasn’t interested in more than a passing hello. That was her fate; always liked, but never chosen.

  “Good morning.” Abby stepped onto the porch and waved.

  “It is a good morning, isn’t it?” Eden bubbled. “I saw a deer and a rabbit on my way over. Do you get lots of wildlife out here?” She made her way up the stairs.

  “I see antelope, rabbits, and a fox or two. We have wolves that run around, but they stay in the wooded areas.” She led her inside the rustic cabin and pointed to the table where Eden took one of the empty seats. “I set out tea and scones.”

  “They look amazing.”

  Abby glanced around her home to see it from Eden’s perspective. It wasn’t House Beautiful Magazine worthy but could rival any property found in Field and Stream.

  “I heard that Goldie nearly got eaten by a wolf.”

  Abby laughed. “Is that what they’re calling Tilden these days?” It was funny to learn the history after the truth came out. Tilden Cool was her cousin, although she questioned whether the story was true. No one was around to confirm that her great-great-grandfather Walt Carver had an affair with Ginny Coolidge. All they had was a diary and one woman’s accounting of the events. It was that book that brought Tilden to Aspen Cove.

  Abby was glad she had never set her sights on Tilden. Inbreeding wasn’t on her bucket list.

  “Funny how opposites attract, right?” Eden twisted her hands in her lap.

  To break the ice and put the girl at ease, Abby poured the tea and took a seat. “Yes, love seems to be a disease in town. Glad I live out here where I’m not likely to catch it.”

  Eden stirred the dipper into the honey and held it over her cup. The amber liquid flowed like molten gold into her hot tea.

  “I never imagined I’d fall in love either, but it happens when you’re least expecting it. Funny thing was, while Thomas was always nice to me, he never appeared interested.” She blushed. “Well, that is until he kissed me, and then all bets were off. We had a baby before we had sex.” Her cheeks turned bubblegum pink.

  Abby didn’t want to think about Thomas and Eden kissing or having sex. Not that she was jealous, or maybe that’s exactly what it was, but she’d never hold it against the woman sitting in front of her. Eden was hard to dislike. She was kind and considerate and always had a smile on her face.

  They chatted about simple things like the weather and Katie’s daily muffins. When the conversation dragged, Abby asked, “How’s the baby?”

  Eden nearly turned to goo. “Oh, he’s perfect. The funny thing is everyone thinks he looks just like Thomas.” She giggled. “We don’t correct them because, in everything but DNA, Thomas is his father.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t bring little Thomas with you. How old is he now?”

  “Tommy is going on six months and since Thomas is not on duty, he wanted to keep him home.”

  A thread of envy wound through Abby’s gut and twisted her insides. If anyone had told her ten years ago she’d be single and living alone with a finicky cat, she would have told them they were crazy. She’d known love, had felt it in every cell of her body. Sadly, it was a love for a man that took everything she offered and left with another woman—her best friend. That’s how a woman with a degree in biology became a recluse beekeeper.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  Eden stared at the sticky honeycomb. “You raise bees, right?” A tiny shudder shook her body.

  It was a natural reaction to her job. How funny was it that people feared something so small and harmless? Bees did more good than bad.

  “Yes, I guess you can say that. I’d rather think of it as keeping bees. They do the raising themselves. And while I think of them as my babies, I didn’t have to birth them, feed them, or clean up after them. They do it all themselves.”

  “Is this honey from one of your hives?” She picked up the stick again and let it drizzle back in
to the container.

  “Yes, it’s raw and unfiltered which means it has all the good stuff still in it.” She pushed the plate of scones toward Eden. “You haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve had a warm scone with butter and honeycomb.”

  “Is it safe to eat?”

  Abby laughed. “I’m not much into poisoning people. That was my ancestors,” she joked. “Although they only killed themselves, and the cattle they raised.” Thankfully, the truth about the feud between the Coolidges and Carvers had been put to rest once and for all. She felt terrible that her ancestors had run that family out of town. People could learn a thing or two from bees. It takes a colony to survive. If people would work together, life would be simpler.

  Eden picked up a warm scone and slathered it with butter, then cut off a piece of the honeycomb. She stared at it skeptically before she took a bite.

  Abby watched for her reaction. Most people didn’t know you could eat honeycomb in its natural state. When Eden’s eyes rolled back and a smile spread across her face, she knew she had another convert.

  “I’ll send some home with you. Just make sure the little guy doesn’t get into it until next year. Their little digestive systems can’t handle the natural bacteria, but yours can.”

  “Oh, my God. This is almost as good as sex.”

  Abby raised a brow. “I wouldn’t tell Thomas that. He’d probably be heartbroken that a bee could replace him.”

  “Never, he’s irreplaceable. Speaking of men, I saw a new guy in the diner this morning. Thomas said he’s Luke’s brother. Looks like a cowboy, and I thought maybe he came to work on the Dawsons’ ranch. Do you know who that can be? Do you like cowboys?”

  “I’m not particular.” She shook her head. “What I mean is at my age, you can’t be all that picky.”

  Eden sipped her tea and looked over the rim. “Your age? Puhlease. You’re young, and beautiful, and have so much to offer. You should come into town more often. Maybe Mr. Cowboy is the one.”

  Just then, Abby’s tabby cat made himself known, which was odd because Mr. Whiskers had never bothered with guests before. Then again, she didn’t get many.

  “Aww, I have a similar cat, except Porkchop is more orange.”

  “Porkchop?”

  Eden rolled her eyes. “I know, it’s a silly name, but I didn’t give it to her, an old woman in the building did. I ended up with the cat because until I came to Aspen Cove, I had a hard time saying no.”

  “And you learned that word here?”

  “Yes, but I learned so much more. Things like I have value, and I get to choose my life and how it goes. It’s funny how we allow the inertia of existence to take us away.”

  “Right.” Had Abby allowed that to happen to her? Had her experiences taken away her choices? Nope, she had taken control and moved back to Aspen Cove. It was her choice to be here.

  Eden’s hands moved to her breasts. “Oops, lunch just arrived. I need to go. It’s feeding time for Thomas.”

  “Big or little Thomas?” Abby found teasing Eden fun because she turned the color of a bee sting when she got embarrassed. Nice that she still had the innocence to blush given what she had gone through.

  “Both.” She pushed back her chair and reached for her plate.

  “I’ll get that.” Abby walked into the pantry and grabbed a few items for Eden to take home. “Here’s some honeycomb. Make sure you eat it with something because the wax can upset your tummy if you ingest too much. Crackers and goat cheese are another option, or toss bits on a salad with walnuts and cranberries.” She grabbed a bag from under the sink and set the box of honeycomb inside. “I’m putting honey, lotion, and a candle in here too.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I like to share.”

  Eden pulled Abby in for a hug. She was a petite woman, but Abby was small too. Most people took her for a teen until they looked closely and saw the heartbreak she wore like a war wound etched into the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m so glad we had this time to get to know each other.” Eden walked to the door with her bag of goodies. “You know, I was nervous coming here because I’d heard you once liked my husband. Thanks for not making it weird.”

  Abby walked her onto the porch. “Your husband is exactly where he should be, and that’s with you.” She knew it in her heart. Eden was too sweet to not have Thomas. On the few times she’d met him, she’d picked up on a bitterness about life that oozed from his pores. She recognized it because she saw it in herself. They would have been two peas living in the same miserable pod.

  Eden was different. She didn’t let life drag her down. Months ago, the town was abuzz when they found out she was a surrogate for her sister, Suzanne. At the eleventh hour, her sister didn’t want the baby, but as soon as Eden kept little Tommy, Suzanne sued her for custody. Why did people always want the things they couldn’t have?

  “Can we do this again?” Eden trotted down the steps toward her car.

  “Absolutely. Next time, I’ll bring out my homemade jam.”

  Eden rubbed her stomach. “I’m all in for the jam.”

  Abby watched as she drove away. As soon as the dust settled, she hiked up to the family gravesite. It was another thing she did on the first day of spring. She sat with her ancestors and told them about everything they’d missed.

  Inside the wrought-iron fence were dozens of graves lined up two by two. From her great-great-grandparents to her parents were buried there.

  “Still single. Not looking.” She picked a few weeds that sprouted from Walt’s grave. “How did you get two women when I can’t even find one man?” Even in death, they lay side by side. In life she was alone. Looking to the right of the graves she picked out her plot. It was the only section where a single grave would fit. She had to learn to live with reality. She was living alone, and would die alone.

  Chapter Two

  Cade Mosier sat at the table and sipped his coffee waiting for his brother Luke to get off work. He’d made the six-hour drive from Wyoming early that morning. He was used to getting up before the sun. In his world, a man never wasted the light of day. He worked from sunup to sundown.

  “Can I get you more coffee, sweetheart?” A woman with a tag that read Maisey stood in front of him, swinging the pot back and forth between her fingers. “Maybe another plate of cakes and sausage?”

  He leaned back and patted his stomach. “I’m as full as a tick.”

  She laughed. “Good to hear that. I’d hate to send you away hungry.”

  “No chance of that. This was a plate big enough to feed an entire crew.” He glanced out the window again.

  “Who you waiting on? I know just about everyone in town, so I can call and put a fire under their bottom if you’re in a hurry.”

  “No, thank you, ma’am. I’m just waiting on my brother, Luke.”

  “Well, I’ll be. You must be Cade.” She slid into the booth across from him and sat there staring like she was analyzing a germ on a petri dish.

  “I am.”

  “He said you were coming.” She leaned in to get a closer look. “Now I see it. You and your brother have the same color hair, but the eyes are different.”

  “Mine have seen far more than his. I imagine his still sparkle with light and hope.”

  Maisey stood. “Well, that’s not the way to look at things. What you need is a piece of my pie. It will put the sparkle back in your pretty greens.” She leaned closer to get a better look. “Wait—are they green or blue?”

  “A little of both. Hazel eyes. My dad tells me they’re the eyes of a rancher, part land, part sky, and all heart.”

  “I like that.” The bell above the door rang, and she turned around. “Look who the cat dragged in.”