Walland

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2016 Andrea Thome

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Hesse Creek Media, Chicago

  www.andreathome.net

  Edited and Designed by Girl Friday Productions

  www.girlfridayproductions.com

  Copyediting: Michelle Hope Anderson

  Cover Design: Agus Budi Yono

  Image Credits: Cover © Andrea Thome, author photo © Terri Carrick

  ISBN-13: 9780997850406

  e-ISBN: 9780997850413

  First Edition

  For Jim, Lila, Landon, and Dad. Thank you for all your love and support. You are my everything. Being a member of your family is the best job I’ve ever had.

  To my close friends who took the time to read and re-read for me: your friendship is treasured. Lisa, Terri, Paula, Lekshmi, Dawn, Shannon, Erin, and my dear, sweet Mim. I couldn’t have done it without your constant support along the way.

  To the tireless team at Girl Friday—every budding author should treat themselves to the leadership you provide. Thank you for making the process of self-publishing so much simpler . . . and even a little fun.

  And to my Mom. Thank you for the writer’s gene. And for the strong moral compass. And for teaching me about compassion. And for everything. I miss you.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  India Evans fiddled with the necklace at her throat as the wheels tucked themselves up into the belly of the plane and the nose shot skyward, up and away from LaGuardia. Spring snowstorms were not unusual in the Northeast, but this one had been unexpected. Forecasters had called for a dusting, and instead Manhattan had awoken to a thick, fluffy blanket of flight delays. It was beautiful, although a little less so on a travel day.

  India would have changed her flight if it had been possible, but rescheduling was not an option this time. Jules was flying out of Ohio in a few hours to meet her, and India knew her friend had stretched herself to make this last-minute trip happen.

  Julia Haupt had been India’s college roommate, and she was still the keeper of all her secrets and basically her favorite person on the planet. India wouldn’t risk stranding Jules in a strange city, especially when Julia was dropping everything to join her with almost no notice. Besides, it might have been snowing in New York and Cleveland, but a short flight south to Knoxville, Tennessee, meant landing in springtime temperatures and sunshine. Time to take her homeopathic anxiety remedy and suck it up.

  Her fear of flying was one of many recent life developments. It began when India and her fiancé, Jack Sterling, were headed home from their engagement trip to London last fall, having just enjoyed a stopover weekend in Iceland. The landscape of the island nation was spectacular, something out of a Tolkien novel, all sharp peaks and icy valleys. India had thought at the time that Iceland’s varied terrain was as different as she and Jack were. She’d spent the weekend traveling around the island, taking the most incredible pictures of the pristine scenery, while Jack had relaxed in the hotel spa, his phone never far from reach.

  India had just settled in with her laptop on the flight back, and was beginning to edit her photographs, when the plane had suddenly groaned, followed by a loud popping noise, as masks spilled forth from the overhead panels. Everything shuddered, and the flight attendants scrambled to their jump seats to buckle in. India’s initial shock had turned to utter horror when the pilots informed the passengers that they had depressurized and were in an emergency, instructing them to don the oxygen masks at once.

  She’d instinctively turned to Jack for comfort, only to discover that he’d been using that moment to Send. Out. A. Tweet. A farewell message to his faithful followers in case he didn’t make it. Jack was nothing if not connected. Fortunately, the pilots were able to stabilize at a lower altitude, and a short time later, after maintaining ten thousand feet for a while, they had landed the plane safely at the nearest airport in Nova Scotia.

  India was grateful to be alive, but something had shifted inside her. Where there once was the newborn seed of a life with Jack, there now bloomed a sprout of discontent and reservation. The resulting weed was a fast-growing varietal.

  She couldn’t believe she was engaged to marry someone who could be so narcissistic.

  Jack had been chief meteorologist at Good Morning America for more than a decade. He was known around town as a bit of a ladies’ man but enjoyed the reputation of a gentleman nonetheless. When India was first hired at NBC, she’d received a stunning bouquet of yellow roses from Jack on her second day at work, with a note welcoming India to the big time. Not a bad first impression. India had called over to ABC to thank him, and after exchanging a few flirty e-mails and phone calls over the next several weeks, they’d made plans to meet in person at an annual fund-raising event at a restaurant in Central Park.

  It was an unseasonably warm March evening. Jack was hard to resist in his slim-fitted suit, with his golfers’ tan and easy smile. Tall, dark, and handsome, with a confidence just on the right side of cocky. At ten years India’s senior, he had the air of a man in complete control of his life.

  India hadn’t pulled any punches getting ready for that first date. She’d tamed her long wavy blonde hair into a side braid, and had chosen to wear the sexy nude pumps she’d been saving for just such an occasion. Her favorite little black dress and Cartier perfume had completed the look. India had played tennis in college, which had done her figure justice in the years since. Jack would later tell her that her confidence and naked ambition were what had sealed the deal. That he knew he’d met his match.

  She’d graduated from Vanderbilt at the top of her class and had immediately landed a job in a top-ten market. India had thought she’d be married to her career in her twenties, and had steeled herself for an epic climb. It had to be that way, if she intended to make it to the network before she turned thirty.

  India had grown up watching the Today show, and she would visualize herself sitting at the anchor desk one day. She was single-minded in her determination, and she had no intention of letting anything, especially a romantic relationship, get in the way of reaching that goal. She’d learned at an early age that family didn’t have to be a priority—at least it hadn’t been for her parents. The thought of driving kids in a car pool gave her hives.

  She enjoyed her position as an anchor on Weekend Today and knew she was in a prime position to move u
p in the ranks, even though she’d only been on the job a few months.

  Ratings were robust, and it had quickly become clear that India was a rising star. She was a bit of a media darling, and it wasn’t unusual to see pictures of herself at events in the New York papers.

  She had been perfectly content to bide her time on the weekend desk, when network executives had suddenly approached her with an opportunity. They’d wanted her to join the weekday team, where she would sit at the anchor desk with the big four. Rather than being named the lead female anchor, however, India would be a third-hour lifestyle anchor, reporting on celebrities and fashion.

  How could she say no?

  It was so close to the brass ring, and she could cut her teeth waiting for the main anchor chair to eventually open up. The current lead female anchor had recently delivered her third child, so it likely wouldn’t be long before she sought the scheduling flexibility that the network magazine shows could provide her.

  Station execs also mentioned that they wouldn’t mind having the opportunity to feature India’s wedding. Viewers had gone nuts when Jack had shown up on the plaza last summer to pop the question during a segment India was hosting. It was no surprise that their engagement had coincided with a ratings period. The bride and groom were both in television, after all. These were things to consider, and her fiancé certainly had.

  Theirs was a whirlwind courtship. Jack had plenty of experience in the charm and romance department, and he’d made India feel that she was every bit worth the wait. They’d spent most of the weekends that summer and fall after their engagement out on his boat, the Court Ship, learning everything they could about each other. They were rarely alone, though, since Jack’s family enjoyed the boat as much as they did, and they were afforded carte blanche access.

  His brothers had paraded their numerous girlfriends up and down the docks, day and night, most of them not getting the memo to remove their stilettos before boarding. India was not exactly a shrinking violet; she’d always made friends easily, and she enjoyed many of the colorful women that his brothers played host to. She only wished there were a few more repeat customers. Despite the foot traffic, she’d found herself feeling exceptionally lonely during much of the time she spent with Jack. It was almost as if he had landed his big fish and was now content having it hanging on the wall, for all to see.

  They made a striking couple, and the voracious appetite of the tabloids was kept satiated by their busy social schedules. Jack loved the Manhattan scene even more than India did. They were a match made in broadcast heaven, as coworkers and friends constantly reminded them. Colleagues liked to tease India about being cherry-picked; it was as if Jack had placed an order for the perfect wife, and India had arrived right on cue.

  She would have preferred a more private proposal, but India knew how happy the attention made her fiancé. It wasn’t every day that a competing network’s anchor proposed to his girlfriend on live morning television. Of course people would be interested, Jack had reminded her more than once. But as time went on, India felt herself becoming bitter about agreeing to let the audience weigh in on every decision regarding the wedding.

  But Jack was so enamored by the idea of the two of them becoming an “it” couple that India held her tongue. Every decision, from the venue to the dress, was met with unsolicited advice on social media. Fortunately, her tall slender frame was flattered by all of the dresses the network selected. Still, India had found herself dreading their wedding day instead of looking forward to it, and she’d watched her fiancé morph into a different person with each passing day.

  Jack had rarely asked India’s opinion before making decisions that affected them both. He’d chosen the honeymoon spot. He’d hired the wedding coordinator. He’d decided where they would spend the holidays and with whom. In some ways, after having had to depend on herself for most of her life, it was a relief not to have to be in charge.

  But that moment on the airplane. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. When she’d finally mentioned that it bothered her, Jack had brushed her off, saying he knew they were going to be OK all along and that it was good for their image as a couple to have that kind of social media presence in the midst of such a big news story. He’d told her she shouldn’t be so sensitive, that her strength and self-sufficiency were two of the qualities he’d admired most when they’d met. Besides, that tweet had gotten almost a million likes!

  The following weeks and months had flown by, and before they knew it, Christmas was over and the wedding day was upon them. But, for India, the discontent that had taken root during their engagement had grown into a full-blown panic. Somehow, she’d thought she could manage to tuck it deep down, beneath the layers of tulle on her custom gown, her least favorite of the four options. She’d felt like she should be spinning inside of a jewelry box. In the eerie quiet of the bride’s dressing room, she’d finally acknowledged the sinking feeling she’d been ignoring since the moment she’d said yes. She’d actually meant no. This marriage, like her audience-selected footwear, wasn’t the right fit.

  There was no way was she was going to be a runaway bride. It was too cliché. Even though she’d known she couldn’t marry Jack, she’d respected him enough not to leave him standing alone in front of a church full of people. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she’d sent for her fiancé. India had slid back out of her chosen Choos and waited. Listening to the faraway notes of the chamber music filtering through the walls of St. Patrick’s, she’d realized that, for the first time ever, she was dreading doing the very thing that she loved most: delivering the news.

  Viewers were heartbroken when the morning-show super couple called it quits. India got letters chiding her for jilting the beloved Jack. His sad picture was the only one splashed across the cover of the magazines, and India was sure it had been carefully orchestrated. He’d done a wonderful job of rebounding, though, as evidenced by a more recent photo on Page Six. He’d been spotted having drinks at a Midtown hotel with a rising celebrity chef on his arm, the media speculating about what Jack might be “cooking up” these days. India was happy and relieved he’d been able to move on so quickly, and she would have told him so, but they hadn’t spoken since their nonwedding day.

  She’d gone right back to work, refusing to discuss details with anyone, but it was always an elephant in the room. She was obviously professional and more than capable of doing her job, but after the ratings took a dip, station execs had come to her with a suggestion.

  They’d offered her a week off, under the condition that she would give them an exclusive interview when she returned: “India and Jack: What Went Wrong?” To them, it was morning-show porn. Personally, India would have rather eaten a box of tacks, but she’d agreed to the interview in an effort to save her job. It was made clear to her that declining the offer was not an option. It was clear they thought that her time away would heal the viewers’ wounds and allow India to return and pick up where she’d left off a few weeks before the beginning of the all-important May sweeps. So now she found herself on a plane to Knoxville, to recharge and spend time with her best friend. She’d agreed to management’s terms, hoping she could pull it off without feeling like she’d sold her soul to the devil.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Once the plane touched down in Knoxville, India felt herself relax a little. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to put some physical distance between herself and the whole mess. India considered the upcoming week that she and Julia would spend together. She’d seen a story on Blackberry Farm years ago when she was working in Atlanta, and she’d been impressed enough to make a mental note to visit. It had never dawned on her that it would be as a newly single woman, with miles of uncertainty before her. The resort would be the perfect place to hide out and lick her wounds.

  Even though they were the best of friends, India and Julia couldn’t have been more different. India liked spontaneity; Julia craved routine. India loved to travel to ex
otic places and was a bit of a daredevil; Jules was a first-class wife and mother, totally willing to put the needs of her family ahead of her own. Fortunately, the resort had workshops and events that appealed to each of them. India could take classes and go on hikes, and Julia could lose herself in a sea of spa treatments.

  They’d lucked out and, thanks to a cancellation, were able to book one of the newest luxury cottages on the property. India was looking forward to breaking in her new camera in the photography workshop she’d signed up for. India had minored in photography at Vanderbilt, but she’d never seemed to have the time to learn how to make the most of her equipment. Now was the perfect opportunity.

  The resort in Walland, Tennessee, was only about a thirty-minute drive from Knoxville, and it had a reputation for offering the best of two worlds to the discerning luxury traveler. It was possible to enjoy all the pleasures of field and stream during the day and then sit down to a dinner prepared by a James Beard Award–winning chef, complete with stellar service from one of the resort’s renowned sommeliers. If you wanted for anything, the answer was always yes.

  India stepped onto the escalator and headed down to baggage claim, switching on her phone to see if Jules’s plane had taken off on time. As the phone sprang to life, the pings started and didn’t stop. Fourteen text messages later, India had pieced together the news.

  Julia wouldn’t be coming.

  Pearl, her four-year-old daughter, had come down with a brutal combination of the chicken pox and a flu virus. India read through the text messages that chronicled Julia’s internal struggle:

  Would it be terrible if I left Mike with the kids, and came anyway?

  There is just no way I could do it.

  Maybe I could come down for the second half of the week?

  In the end, it was clear that it just wasn’t going to happen. India was going to have to go it alone on this trip.

  She felt unexpected tears prick at her eyes, coupled with shame for feeling so needy.