Willow Run: Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

Willow Run: Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Melissa F. Hart. All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this book may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written consent of the author/publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

http://www.melissafhart.com/

Books in the series

Welcome to the Kingdom - Volume 1

About Face - Volume 2

Catch as Catch Can - Volume 3

Life Lessons - Volume 4

Party Animals - Volume 5

Time to Change - Volume 6

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Table of Contents

Welcome to the Kingdom

About Face

Catch as Catch Can

Life Lessons

Party Animals

Time to Change

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Welcome to the Kingdom

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Synopsis

When Dr. Willow Ryersen moves to the area of Vermont known as the Northeast Kingdom, all she wants is to be a good veterinarian and settle into the small Yankee village. Her boss is great, she has a cute place to live, and then, another single young woman, Katie Laclerk, befriends her. Everything seems to be unfolding according to plan. When she meets not one, but two engaging and sexy men, life starts to get really interesting! Soon she finds herself attracted to both Mace Leland, an elegant and reclusive novelist, and Guy Beaugrand, a ruggedly handsome hunting and fishing guide. Then something truly unexpected happens to change Willow’s life—forever.

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As Willow unpacked her last box of books, she looked around her new home with a sigh of satisfaction. Her apartment was an addition to a long rambling farmhouse, perhaps built to accommodate the marriage of a child, or a rapidly growing family many years before. The corridor connecting it to the main house had been closed off for decades, and a tiny bathroom and small kitchen installed to make it self-sufficient. Still, it didn’t feel cramped, and she loved the charm that came with the fact that there wasn’t a plumb line in the 150-year old structure. The neat white clapboard exterior, with its dark green shutters and modern red metal roof, gave way inside to slightly crazy angles and curves. The hardwood floor by the front door dipped; the narrow stairs leading to the bedroom under the eaves leaned drunkenly; and if she had set a level on the sill of the cheerful kitchen window looking out over the rolling hills and forests of northern Vermont, it would have been shockingly askew.

Character, she thought with a smile, that’s something that’s earned over time.

A crisp rap on her door roused her from her reverie, and Willow looked up to see her new boss, Dr. Samuel Wetherwell, and a pleasant-looking woman she presumed to be his wife, standing at her door. Hopping up, she brushed herself off, hurrying to let them in. Her first guests! This place would feel like home in no time.

Dr. Wetherwell! Please come in! Willow turned to the woman with a smile. Welcome—things are still a bit of a mess. I’m Willow.

Grace, the woman replied. She nudged her husband playfully. And call this one Samuel, or he’ll start to put on airs.

Grace made you a gooseberry pie, and we also picked up a wheel of cheddar from the Oatman Farm up the road. I hope you like it sharp. Samuel and Grace set the items on Willow’s little kitchen table.

I don’t think I’ve ever had gooseberries—it smells wonderful. Willow could tell that the pie was still warm from the oven. Should we have a slice and celebrate the fact that I’ve emptied my last box and actually know where the forks and plates are now?

A few moments later, the trio was arrayed around the small kitchen table, enjoying the pie. Willow thought that Samuel and Grace looked like classic New England Yankees. He was tall, with a slightly stretched look, wore round wireframe spectacles, and had knotty, calloused hands. She was average height, with ruddy cheeks and graying hair pulled back into a loose bun. And their eyes smiled more than their mouths did. Willow could easily imagine them pulling stones from the ground to clear the countryside and build the two- hundred year old rock fences that seemed to run along every lane and in front of every home in East Lindenbury, Vermont.

No pets? Samuel glanced around, as if surely some creature would emerge from a hidden spot.

Not yet. I couldn’t have pets in my apartment in Somerville, and well, it’s not like vet school leaves much time for your own life, anyway.

Samuel nodded, knowingly. You must be relieved to get out of Boston, get back to some fresh air and wilderness. My four years at Tufts nearly killed me—and I mean that literally. Dang crazy Massachusetts drivers—and that was more than thirty years ago.

Willow laughed. Believe me, time has not improved them.

"Well, you’re here now, and I can’t tell you how glad I am that Samuel won’t have to take every midnight case of colic in fifty square miles. Between the horses, cows, goats and pets, there’s plenty enough to keep two veterinarians busy. Grace patted her husband’s hand. It’s time he started to slow down, just a bit."

Samuel shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of slowing down. All I know is that help is welcome, and I think you’re going to like it around here.

I hope people like me. Willow glanced toward the window. "I’ve overheard some scuttlebutt around town about how outsiders are ruining it for locals.’’

Don’t pay any mind to that, Willow. That’s just people running their mouths because they envy. You’re not some arrogant investment banker from New York or Connecticut buying up property because they have more money than brains. Grace nodded her head a little and gave Willow a reassuring look. You’re going to be an important part of this community.

Willow smiled, but it felt a little forced. Guess I have ‘new kid on the block’ jitters. I’m sure that you’re absolutely right.

***

Willow’s first day of work dawned mild and clear, a typical late July day in Vermont. There was something a little magical, a little fairytale-like about this incredibly beautiful and remote corner of New England. She stretched a little as she headed to her Jeep for the drive to Samuel’s office in town, tilting her head back to take in the clarity of the sky as she did. Temperatures were going to top out in the high seventies, and no rain was predicted for a couple of days. Perfect conditions for almost anything, and it definitely boded well for starting a new job.

Town might be overstating the nature of East Lindenbury a bit. There was a tiny post office inside a general store, a gas station, Greens Diner, and a small row of storefronts housing a doctor’s office, a lawyer, a CPA who could also sell you insurance, a combination heating, plumbing, and electrical contractor, a Laundromat and drycleaner, a feed store that also sold woodstoves, and Samuel Wetherwell’s veterinary practice. Parking wasn’t really an issue, and seeing that she was a few minutes early, Willow headed to Greens to get a cup of coffee to go.

Greens Diner was an old-school diner, a Worcester Lunch Car from the 1940s. Narrow, with a curved roof, it had a long shiny counter with stools in front of the kitchen, and a row of small booths along the front windows. It was a bit elevated, presumably because of the Vermont snows, and a few sturdy wooden steps led to the door at one end. At some point, its wooden seating had been upholstered in bright red vinyl, making the interior look a bit like an aging woman wearing too garish a lipstick. All in all, though, the effect was quite cheerful, and she could certainly understand why the locals patronized it regularly.

It was almost nine o’clock, and the morning breakfast crowd had mostly departed. A few strays lingered over their coffee, and as Willow pushed through the door, heads turned to note the new arrival.

A pretty young woman, about thirty years old and wearing a vintage, ruffled apron, was polishing the counter. Good morning, she called without interrupting her scrubbing. What can I get you?

Just a black coffee to go.

Sure thing, I’ve got a fresh pot brewing if you can wait about three minutes.

That’s fine.

The woman behind the counter looked up as Willow slid onto one of the stools. Not from around here, are you?

As it happens, I just moved here this weekend.

A man sitting further down the counter turned again to look at Willow, but didn’t say anything. Willow glanced in his direction. Wow, if men in East Lindenbury looked like that, living here was going to at least provide some great eye candy! He looked a bit older than Willow, maybe early thirties, she decided, and she liked the way his tan Carhartt jeans fit. He was only wearing a white cotton T-shirt, despite the fact that the morning was still cool. The muscular swells of his pecs gave way to a lean stomach, and his bulging biceps stretched at the bands of his shirtsleeves. His hair was dark, longish, and a bit unruly; his jaw was square, and his nose had been broken—probably more than once, and her discerning medical eye told her it had never been properly set. His dark eyes sparked with an intensity that denoted a keen intelligence. There was a restlessness about him, though, something almost animal like, but she had to admit that the entire package made her motor rev!

Her last year in vet school hadn’t left much time for dating, and she realized she was ready to prowl. Catching herself, she turned her head away before she looked like a complete fool for staring and uttered a silent but fervent prayer that gorgeous in the Carhartts had large animals, so she’d have an excuse to make a house call.

The woman behind the counter neatly folded the towel she’d been using for cleaning. Welcome to town. I’m Katie, I own this joint, and that’s Bert and Jim at the window, and the dark, brooding one down there… She jerked her thumb in the direction of the man Willow was trying not to ogle. That’s Mr. Guy Beaugrand.

Willow nodded. I’m Willow—I’m the new vet working with Samuel Wetherwell.

Guy tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement, but said nothing.

Vet? A professional woman…nice. Katie smiled. Maybe you can help raise the level of conversation around here beyond groundhogs, truck tires, and the price of milk.

I don’t know, those all seem pretty important to me. Willow saw Guy glance her way, seemingly approving of the fact that there was no sarcasm in Willow’s response. I grew up in rural Ohio, so I’m a pretty down to earth girl.

Then you’ll fit right in. Katie poured Willow’s coffee and snapped a plastic lid on the paper to-go cup. Compliments of the house. Come by anytime. Down to earth or not, I can use someone to talk to besides these lugs. You know, familiarity breeds contempt.

Willow wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not. Yankee humor was different than Midwestern humor, and she didn’t always get it. After a moment’s pause, she smiled, deciding that Katie was just taking a dry, but playful, jab at her customers. Thanks for the coffee.

As she rotated off the stool, she caught Guy’s eye once more. He didn’t smile, but blinked slowly, calling attention to his lush feathery eyelashes. Willow wasn’t sure what his look meant, or if it meant anything at all. She only knew that it made her stomach do flip-flops. Yankees were so reticent, but maybe she just needed to live among them for a while.

After a three-minute tour of Samuel’s office and introductions to his only staff person, a vet tech named George, Willow jumped into seeing small animals—well, they were small relative to the draft horse with thrush that Samuel was going out to treat.

Her first patient was a doleful-looking, one-year old German Shepherd who had learned the hard way that porcupines almost always win. Fortunately, he only had a few quills in his muzzle, but she still had to anesthetize him to get the barbs out. The rest of the morning progressed more routinely: a diabetic house cat, a litter of puppies to be wormed, routine vaccinations, and a follow-up on a dog that had broken his leg. Willow found herself falling into the routine of reassuring animals and owners, and everyone she met seemed nice enough, if not overly effusive, in welcoming her to town. She decided that Yankees just needed a little time to warm up to new folks.

By one o’clock, she had cleared the morning appointments and realized that her stomach was rumbling insistently. In her excitement over her first day at work, she had forgotten to pack a lunch. She made her way back to the diner.

Katie waved at an empty stool at the counter. Didn’t expect you back quite so soon. Our kitchen turns out a damn good tuna melt on rye, or did you have something else in mind?

Tuna melt sounds good—and a big glass of water, please.

You got it. Katie scrawled the order on her pad, ripped off the sheet, and clipped it up in the kitchen window. So how was your first morning?

Fine…good, really. Mostly routine stuff.

Katie multi-tasked as they chatted, refilling drinks, handing out condiments, setting out the place settings of silverware. I hope you like living here. I love it—although I don’t have much to compare it to. I did go to college in Burlington for my business degree, but I realized I wasn’t really comfortable outside the NEK.

Willow blinked stupidly. What’s the NEK?

Katie’s mouth curled in a wry smile. The Northeast Kingdom. You’ll hear people call it the Kingdom, too—as if we were some kind of hangover from the Middle Ages.

Willow sipped at her water. Maybe you can clue me in on all the local slang.

Happy to do that…I can also clue you in on our local ‘prince charmings,’ too, she said a little sarcastically. I’ve managed to date most of them sometime in my life between the ages of fourteen and thirty. Katie winked and lowered her voice conspiratorially, tilting her head in the direction of nice enough looking fellow who was clearly a house