Introduction

After David Herron takes his life in the wake of the bursting lending bubble of 2008, those left behind—his wife and daughter, the detective who investigated the suicide, and the banker who called in the loan—learn, as they struggle to remake their worlds, that there is power in forgiveness and unlimited possibility in the unknown.

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Excerpt

Jules Herron stepped out of her tub onto the looped cotton rug and reached for a bath towel. The morning’s shower had been brief, taken as much to wake her up as it was to wash. Her long soak would come later in the day, after her shift at the bakery, when she really needed it. She had long ago accepted the lot of the baker: reeking of browned butter and sugar. The same homey aromas that customers breathed in deeply and exclaimed over once they crossed the threshold of the bakery weren’t as pleasant to the person trapped in the small, hot kitchen day after day. Cooking and baking smells settled into a baker’s hair, her skin, and got trapped in the woven fibers of cotton T-shirts and aprons. Twice a year, every piece of her work wardrobe had to be tossed and exchanged for new.

Still, Jules loved her job. Opening the shop with her husband, David, ten years earlier had been a risky venture. David had left his lucrative but stressful job at a powerhouse accounting firm, she had given up her safe head baker position at another bakery, and they’d sunk all their money and then some into renovating the rundown downtown property. But taking their shot at becoming business owners had paid off. Their small family had strengthened as their venture took off, and as a bonus, the bakery had bound them to their community, had in short order become one of the most inviting anchor shops in the downtown landscape of storefronts, a familiar and popular sight on the main street with their sparkling plate glass windows and seasonal displays.

The years showed on her body a little less kindly than they did on the bakery. One glance down over herself confirmed what she knew to be true: she looked good enough for her forties, but not as vibrant as she used to. Her bath-towel fluffed-up hair was still good and thick but was no longer glossy. Her gaze passed over thighs that jiggled a little when she walked, a small swell of belly below her navel, a few silvery stretch marks, buttocks that firmed up nicely only when tucked into a good pair of jeans, and arms that, despite the constant lifting of buckets of batter and mixer bowls heavy with bread dough, displayed that dreaded swing of flesh when she raised them. She was not at all fat, but she wasn’t exactly toned either. She could use some real exercise, but between work and Rennie’s school and after-school activities, there wasn’t much time left at the end of the day.

At the beginning, she and David had imagined a more balanced life, with them taking turns baking in the wee hours and poring over the books together at tax time, but that hadn’t quite panned out. After the excitement of the first year wore off, Jules had proven to be an impatient teacher with David and his inexperience with pastry, and she’d reclaimed the kitchen as her territory. He, in turn, had rolled his eyes when she couldn’t grasp what he thought were the simplest of business terms, concepts like balance sheets and profit margins. Sometimes she wished David had caught on to the craft of baking or that she had given him more time to catch on, and that he had given her time to master the bookkeeping and financials. They might have split both the full-time physical job and the managerial headaches between them, giving each other breaks from their individual stresses. But that door had closed years ago. Through some negotiating and tweaking of schedules, however, they had at least arrived at an agreement that worked to move the busy days forward: Jules opened the bakery and David brought Rennie to school; he got the extra sleep he needed in the morning and she went to bed early; she stayed in the back of the house crafting the pastries and breads she loved to make, and David concentrated on keeping the business finances on track.

Maybe it was time to cut back her responsibilities and give her full-time position to someone younger and less prone to aching knees and a stiff lower back after hours on her feet. Sandy, the other full-time baker, would be the logical candidate for taking over the head baker job. She might like the raise and the title, and Jules already knew and trusted her skills. With the extra time for herself, Jules thought, she could get more rest, get back onto a normal sleep schedule, maybe even hit their friend Charlie’s gym to address all the aches and stiff joints and lack of muscle tone. At the very least, she thought as she reached around her back to hook her bra, she should start stretching before she became permanently stiff and inflexible.

The movement annoyed something in her right shoulder, some muscle or tendon, so she slowed down and took her time pulling on one of the few T-shirts in her collection that had some life left in it. Carefully, nursing her arm, she reached for her jeans.

She should discuss both the gym idea and any potential staffing changes with David, she considered as she dressed in the quiet of the steamy bathroom. But when would they find the time? The normal pace of work alone kept them comfortably busy. On top of that was Rennie’s homework, chorus rehearsals, after-school clubs, and pleas for more play dates with friends. And now David was caught up in managing a bakery expansion.

Over the course of the past six months of construction, he had grown as distracted and testy as he had been in his last two years as senior vice president for the accounting firm. The upheavals in their workplace were getting to Jules and the staff as well, but some people found better ways to cope. Their counter help made jokes about the ripped up and unfinished unit next door, calling it “the abyss.” When they nicknamed the plastic sheeting that hung in the passage between the two spaces “Swayze” for its ghostly rustling every time the bakery’s front door opened or closed, Jules had to laugh. But David, much more invested than any of the counter help, had bristled at the silly joke.

“Relax, it’s not a criticism of you,” Jules had told him when he heard the nickname for the first time. “Joking lightens the atmosphere. They’re blowing off steam. You have to admit, ‘Swayze’ is pretty funny.”

But he hadn’t agreed. The renovation project was his baby—his idea, his goal. And it had all happened so fast at first, a whirlwind of activity—until, almost as abruptly, the work had come to a standstill.

Jules pulled on her jeans, buttoned them, and threaded her wide leather belt through the belt loops. She paused in the middle of dressing, the two belt ends in her hands, as she caught her reflection in the mirror. There, she noted some new laugh lines around her eyes, and puffy half-moon circles underneath. Joining these was a vertical crease at the bridge of her nose, likely a permanent result of drawing her brows together so often. She leaned in close to the mirror, let go of the belt buckle, and used her index finger to draw back the skin near her eyes, then turned her head from one side to the other, assessing the wrinkles and the elasticity of her skin. I need some rest; we both need some rest, she thought as she took her hands from her face and watched the skin take its time settling. We also need to reconnect.

Like the renovation work, their sex life had come to a stand-still. They hadn’t made love since breaking ground on their new space. The day the work started, David had been giddy with the prospect of taking the bakery in a new direction, and his words had bubbled over faster than the champagne they’d opened in haste for celebration. Before long, fueled by excitement and alcohol, two pairs of hands were grabbing at clothes, unbuttoning, unzipping, undressing.

Jules remembered giggling, the champagne making her light- headed in the middle of the day. “We’re naughty,” she’d said as she slid a warm hand across his chest.

Since then, in the few quiet moments when their schedules had coincided and she had tried to initiate sex, David had put her off with excuses. He was tired or not relaxed enough. Twice, he’d claimed he had a headache.

“I thought that was supposed to be my line,” Jules had said after the second time. Then she’d rolled over onto her side, her back to him.

The rejections depressed her.

Stop it, she told herself. David says the builder will be back soon. This time there’s a real end in sight.

To make herself feel better, she made a mental list of tasks she could accomplish over the next day or two: I’ll talk to David, and then to Sandy. It’s time to pass the reins. If I’m home more, I can even take on some of David’s responsibilities. I can make the calls to the contractor and shuttle Rennie around to her activities. “And get some damn rest,” she said aloud to her reflection. “Both of us.”

Jules brought the belt end and buckle together and cinched. It’s nothing, nothing we haven’t already weathered. Tough it out, she added, and then she flexed her bicep, mugging for the mirror. The reflection lifted her mood for a few seconds.

As she turned to grab the sweater she needed for cool mornings while she waited for the bakery to heat up, she realized it wasn’t hanging in the bathroom and hadn’t made it onto the clothes hook with the rest of her clothes. She looked behind her. Not on the floor either. She cracked the bathroom door and flipped up the hall light switch. Ah, yes, there it was, a puddle of midnight blue in the middle of the runner rug. Mystery solved.

She grabbed the sweater and reached for Rennie’s doorknob, wanting to check on her sleeping child and blow a kiss before leaving, but was interrupted by the creak of her own bedroom door opening. David stood inside the doorframe, squinting and shielding his eyes with one hand.

“Oh, shoot,” Jules whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Can you turn off the light, please?” he said. “It woke me up.” “Again, I’m sorry. I dropped my sweater and I needed the light.” “It’s fine.” David lifted a hand in a tired wave and took a couple of steps backward into the bedroom. He started to swing the door closed.

“Wait,” Jules said before the dark bedroom swallowed him up. She wasn’t ready to let him go.

David turned his head to look back at the clock on the night- stand. “You’re running at least ten minutes late. If you’re any later, I’ll be doing crowd control during rush hour.”

Looking beyond him into the darkened bedroom, Jules could see the red glow emanating from the digital clock’s face. “I’ll catch up on the work, I always do.” She walked the few steps toward David and reached out to touch his shoulder. The muscle cap on his upper arm felt cushioned and doughy as she began massaging it. She smiled, thinking of her own promise to make more time for the gym. She should get David’s sedentary ass to the gym as well. She would call Charlie after her shift; he would help.

David let go of the doorknob. He reached up and removed Jules’s hand. “That feels good, but—”

“I know, I know. The light. My husband, the vampire. Or is it werewolves who are sensitive to the light?”

“Both, maybe?” He shook his head. “I really have no idea.” “So, I was thinking in the shower—”

“Usually dangerous.”

“Don’t tease. Let me finish.” She didn’t want to let him go without making her offer. David gave a slight nod and she continued, “I’ve been thinking about the expansion. How about if I make some calls when I get home and see if I can find us a new builder?”

David blinked. “I told you I don’t want to start from scratch. It makes no sense.”

“I know you said that, but—”

“But it still makes no sense,” David said. “Christ, you’re beginning to sound like my mother, finding fault in everything I do. Can you, for once, let me handle it?”

Stunned, Jules’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not fair,” she said when she found her voice again. “I only want to help. I think this project might be less stressful if we help each other.”

David sighed and slouched against the doorframe. “Look, I’m tired. I just want to go back to bed.”

“And I woke you up.”

“You didn’t. The light did.”

Jules looked at her husband, noticing for the first time some new lines around his eyes. His skin was pale and had a gray cast to it, and there was white in the stubble of his beard. His hair was also turning gray. She recalled her own face in the mirror, her body under the bath towel. Suddenly, we’re old.

She stepped closer, reached for his hand, squeezed it. “Can we call a truce for now? Maybe we can talk more tonight?”

“Sure, a truce.”

Jules gripped his hand once more and then let go.

“Don’t forget the light behind you,” David said as he retreated back into their dark bedroom. “Also, don’t forget what we discussed the other day, about the sugar cookies.”

Jules suppressed an urge to roll her eyes. “I won’t,” she answered, but David had already closed the door behind him.

She gave one last look at the closed bedroom door and then walked carefully down the unlit staircase. Outside, she dashed through steady but gentle rain to her car, reminded that a storm had been predicted for later that morning. With luck, she would be at the bakery before the wind picked up.

She was halfway to work before she realized she had never opened Rennie’s door to check on her. She was running too late to turn around and remedy that mistake, so she promised herself she would give her daughter an extra hug later in the day and continued on downtown. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. How does this book treat the subject of family? In this novel, what makes a family?

2. Jules believes in quality products; David believed in sacrificing quality for business reasons. Is there a constant battle in contemporary America between quality and profits?

3. Do you think the kids in this novel are okay? Will they be okay?

4. What allows Jules to move on? Could she have done so without the money she received?

5. Is this novel about forgiveness of others? Ourselves? Is it about mercy?

6. What do you think will happen to all the characters now?

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