THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

upstairs and sprawled out on the floor as she got undressed and slipped under the covers. She hung her arm over the side of the bed to pet Dutch—needing the connection as she tried to relax. But she was too anxious to sleep.
    Conversations between her and Nick replayed in her mind. Talks about their dream home in the country. How they would decorate it. A simpler life. He would’ve loved it if she'd have stayed home and been his wife, Jake’s mom, and scrapbooked all day. She had planned to do that...someday. But she’d put it off too long.
    When the alarm sounded, it was just a reason to get up because she’d been peeking at the clock almost every fifteen minutes all night.
    She was dressed and out the door in record time, only to find a hard frost on her windshield. She slid behind the wheel and turned the key to start the car and get the defroster going. Not a click. Not a groan.
    “Damn this old car and its crappy electrical system!”
    She slapped the steering wheel and went back inside. Von would help her, but she wasn’t ready to tell him about her conversation with Chaz. He’d tell Riley and they would all have to go, and she didn’t want to share this yet. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she was sure she wanted to go alone.
    The keys hanging on the rack next to the door caught her eye. She could take Nick’s T-Bird. She’d ridden in the antique car a million times, but had never driven it. Nick had tried to talk her into driving, but she liked being his passenger.
    “What the hell.” She snagged the Ford keychain off the rack, grabbed her purse, and headed out back where the car was parked.
    “Come on, Dutch. Let’s check this out.”
    He ran ahead of her toward the barn and sniffed around the car while he waited for her to catch up.
    She lifted one edge of the cover on the car and whipped it in the air to push it back. Dust sparkled in the sunlight as she swept the cover back and let it fold onto the ground behind the car. She opened the car door, then just stood there for a moment. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed the steering wheel and slid behind it. She twisted the key in the ignition. The engine turned right over. The gas tank was full, ready to go.
    “Meant to be, I guess.”
    She pulled the directions from her purse and tucked them in the console, then idled the light blue car out from under the shed roof and drove up to the house. She put Dutch inside, jumped back in the car, and headed west.
    Nick’s favorite AM sports station blasted through the crackling static on the radio. No surprise there. She turned down the volume and smiled at the memory of the playful banter she and Nick used to have about sports radio.
    This early in the morning, the drive was easy, the traffic light. As she made her way toward Emporia, she stopped at the site of Nick’s accident. She hadn’t been there in months. The trees still bore bruises from the impact. She walked a short distance down the road, squatted next to the first bruised tree, and prayed for her boys, remembering the day that had changed her life forever. She wished someone had recognized the woman from Mr. Lighter’s sketch, but that lead had led absolutely nowhere. It seemed no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t catch a break.
    Nick, do you even know how much I miss you?
    She reached for the tree and steadied herself. Nick’s absence burned deep to her core, but she still felt that Jake was alive—somewhere.
    A noise came from the woods.
    Jake?
    No, just a white-tailed deer scurrying for cover.
    Kasey forced herself to get back in the car and continue her journey.
    The road sign showed just eleven miles to Emporia. Two turns off of Route 58, and she was in front of Huckaby’s shop. Parking places were scarce along the curb of the Main Street address, so she parked a block down the street and sat in the car for a minute.
    Am I really ready to do this?
    She gathered herself, then headed up the sidewalk toward Huckaby’s store. The hand-lettered sign on the old Main Street building read Huckaby House and, in smaller letters, Real Estate & Renovation Supplies & Rifle Range .
    “Talk about a jack of all trades,” she said with a giggle.
    She made her way to the door thinking there must be a diner nearby—the smell of bacon permeated the air. She twisted the old brass knob on the tall wooden door. Bells tinkled as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The air was stale, as it often was in these old