Page 1

Chapter 1

The screams that woke Katherine Bennett from sleep were her own. And though she wasn’t plagued by fear every night, when the all-too-real images morphed into a moving picture of terror, she’d jolt awake, covered in sweat.

Bolting upright, eyes wide and heart racing, her breath rushed from her chest in great heaving gasps, and her body trembled in fear. Tears filling her eyes threatened to spill over her dark lashes and stream down her cheeks as the agonizing images faded away.

“It’s okay,” she told herself, reaching for and wrapping her arms around the long body pillow that lay next to her each night. “It was only a dream.”

But it wasn’t. Because reliving those moments in her sleep felt about as real as the day they actually happened.

Squinting at the alarm clock on her bedside table, she figured out how much time was left before her first alarm went off. One hour and twenty-eight minutes. Not enough time to calm her tormented heart and return to a more peaceful sleep. Exhaustedand emotionally drained, she’d fallen into that trap before, only to find herself thrown back into the same nightmare.

Setting the pillow aside, Katherine untangled herself from the twisted heap of blankets. Despite the early hour and the nightmares that robbed her of getting the rest she so desperately needed, determination got her out of bed every day since her sister Andie convinced her to make an offer on the town’s aging diner. And with hard work as her saving grace, choosing an early start at The Copperwall Diner over restless, miserable sleep was now a no-brainer.

Showered and in front of the mirror, Katherine examined the stark contrast between her dark hair and pale skin. Adding color to her cheeks never seemed to help, but she’d do it anyway. Because heaven forbid her diva of a sister, Maddie, come by the diner and catch her without any makeup on.

Enduring another lecture about leaving the house looking tragic wasn’t her idea of fun. Neither was being hauled into the ladies’ room to have a rainbow of colors smeared across her face. Especially since the jagged red lines in the whites of her eyes and the dark circles surrounding them were more telling than the paleness of her skin.

Katherine was tired, and she looked it. Worst of all, she knew others would notice. Because theyalwaysnoticed.

Applying a thick coat of mascara to her lashes, she hoped it would brighten her eyes the way the magazine advertisement had promised. Maybe the extra makeup would be worth the extra effort if it stopped people from asking her how she was doing or if she was getting enough sleep. She hated those questions.

And although she wanted to believe that people meant well, she had to wonder why they couldn’t tell by the look on her face or hear the change in her voice that what they were asking was more than she could bear.

Sometimes, Katherine wondered if there were books on how to torture someone who had lost a loved one. Like,How to Upset the Grieving for DummiesorDumb Things to Say to a Widow.

If her sweet sister Ellie, major bookworm and the town librarian, didn’t get so upset when the subject of death came up around Katherine, she might’ve asked if such books actually exist. But, in the end, she didn’t dare, knowing it would only make Ellie worry all the more.

Leaving her reflection, Katherine went to her closet and looked inside. Half of it was filled with colorful, pretty items she didn’t wear anymore, and the other half was filled with items that were black. Like her very own version of widows’ weeds, her smart-ass sister Georgie once described her style as a cross between a goth kid and a cat burglar. But it was what worked.

Because black was easy. Black pants, black T-shirts, black hoodies, and a pair of black sneakers made life easier. And on a day like today, of all the things she needed, it was for life to be easier.

After she finished dressing, Katherine went outside to check on her garden. As she crossed the dew-covered grass, small lights illuminated the path that led her to the same patch of fruits and vegetables she planted each year.

As little girls, she and her sisters spent countless summer days helping their mother plant and care for the family garden. But for Katherine, what started out as a childhood fascination with making something grow from a tiny dried-out seed was now the cornerstone of creating an incredible plate of food.

Because learning how to turn simple ingredients into extraordinary meals changed how Katherine felt about time spent nurturing plants and pulling weeds.

Especially after experiencing that priceless moment when a smile appeared on someone’s face after trying something she’d created. Whether it was something new or a new twist onsomething old, her heart soared with anticipation, knowing that a smile of appreciation would inevitably come.

Eventually, it was that same sense of pride and accomplishment that inspired her to learn everything she could about cooking. Even vowing to become a successful chef one day. But then, life had other plans.

Bending down to check for signs of powdery mildew on the squash and cucumber plants, Katherine recognized the familiar sound of Officer Kendall and Officer Patrick’s police cruiser as it patrolled the neighborhood. Something they’d done regularly since her husband had died. And though it no longer felt necessary, it was nice to know they were still looking out for her.

“Now for bunny patrol,” she said to herself, checking to see if the onions she’d planted around the garden’s perimeter had kept hungry rabbits away. Satisfied, she turned on the sprinklers and went back inside.

While sorting through a stack of forgotten mail, Katherine ate a plate of re-heated Chinese takeout while doing her best to ignore the empty seats around her and the fading memories of happier times.

When her husband died, she thought about donating the table and chairs to a local thrift store when she had his belongings removed from the house. But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it because there were still moments when Katherine would dream of a future where she wouldn’t be sitting alone.

After breakfast, she set the mail aside, put her plate in the dishwasher, and went back outside to save her garden from getting waterlogged. On her return across the neatly trimmed lawn, she glanced up at a cluster of thorny blackberry canes creeping along the top of the brick wall that separated her house from the house next door.

“Good morning, you hideous weeds,” she said, not really minding the untidy intrusion on her little Eden. In fact, sincethe last renters moved out, Katherine felt a growing sense of comfort in seeing the wild, unkept reminder of silence. Because not having to hear the joyful and chaotic sounds of the family that once lived there was a relief.

Grabbing her things and locking up, she left for work. The short drive was long enough to mentally prepare for the day ahead, consider the specials for the upcoming week, and remind herself to order more baking supplies.

In hindsight, revitalizing the aging diner instead of opening the upscale, dinner-only establishment she once wanted had been the best thing for Katherine. Even though it wasn’t what she’d always dreamed about, it was just what she needed. And making Millie Fraser, the diner’s owner for thirty years, an offer to purchase the business had been the beginning of Millie’s Place morphing into The Copperwall Diner.

From the beginning, Katherine stood at the helm of a grueling, six-day workweek with the intention of making The Copperwall as great as Millie’s Place had been in its heyday.