Town Square, The

The Town Square

1960 is ushering in a new decade of change, and journalist Arthur Hale is determined to be on the forefront of it. A successful New York City journalist, he returns to his hometown of Dare Valley, Colorado to start a new newspaper that will channel the voice of the West, joining the ranks of prestigious papers like
The New York Times
and
The Chicago Tribune
.

But the bigger the dream, the higher the price. Arthur’s ambition and drive isolate him, and the only person who can break through his self-imposed solitude is Harriet Jenkins, his talented and mysterious secretary. Though Arthur’s sixth sense as a journalist tells him the beautiful and complicated redhead is hiding something, he can’t stay away.

What he doesn’t know is that Harriet Jenkins is actually Harriet Wentworth. A newspaper article ruined her father and sullied her family name, and now she’s out for revenge on the journalist who wrote it: Arthur Hale. As she gets to know Arthur, Harriet discovers he’s not the monster she thought he was. He’s a man of integrity, committed to uncovering the truth at all costs. Soon the impossible happens, and she finds herself falling for the man she set out to destroy, but can the two build a future on a foundation of lies and ugly truths?

PRAISE FOR AVA MILES’ DARE VALLEY SERIES

NORA ROBERTS LAND

"It {NORA ROBERTS LAND} captures the best of what I love in a Nora Roberts novel…" —BlogCritics

“…finding love like in the pages of a Nora Roberts story.” —Publisher’s Weekly WW Ladies Book Club

"Debut author Ava Miles combines small–town romance with big–world issues in a full–bodied romance fiction in the first of the Dare Valley series…and paints a wonderful idyllic setting for this small–town series with great characters." —USA Today, Happily Ever After

"Ava Miles's debut novel is warm, funny, and wholly entertaining." —Joyfully Reviewed

FRENCH ROAST

"An entertaining ride…(and) a full–bodied romance." —Readers’ Favorite

“Her engaging story and characters kept me turning the pages.” —Bookfan

THE GRAND OPENING

“Ava Miles’ Dare Valley world is a wonderful place to visit…” —Tome Tender

“The latest book in the Dare Valley series is a continuation of love, family, and romance.” —Mary J. Gramlich

THE HOLIDAY SERENADE

“Ava Miles has added the sparkle of the season to her newest addition to the Dare Valley Series” —Tome Tender

Mad Men
in a small town with a happy ending…

No one else around town could offer her skills, and even without a resume or any background information, she was his best candidate. He couldn’t stand to do administrative work, and if she insisted she wouldn’t answer any questions about herself, he could suck it up. Plus, there were piles of boxes someone had to file, and that someone wasn’t going to be him.

“Okay, you’re hired.”

A secret smile appeared on her lips, and then she stood, pulling her gloves on once again, slowly and deliberately. God, how did women stand the bother of all that fuss about fashion?

“Wonderful,” she murmured. “I only have one other request.”

He took a step closer, studying her amused face. “Name it.”

“I’ve heard some bosses like to call their secretaries ‘sweetheart.’ Don’t.”

Well, she’d just let something slip about her background. She’d never been a secretary, or she would have used the word “seen,” not “heard.”

“Oh, and I don’t make coffee.”

That was interesting. Didn’t most secretaries do that? To get her goat, he simply said, “So what should I call you?”

“Harriet,” she informed him, turning toward the door and walking out. “Or Harry, if it makes it easier to remember not to call me ‘sweetheart.’”

As he watched her gorgeous body stroll out of his office, one thought crossed his mind.

There was no way this woman could be mistaken for a Harry.

To my grandfathers, one I knew, and one who had passed on long before I was born. To Ray Bosn, for Root beer floats, glazed donuts, McDonalds sundaes, and Easter eggs in his shoes. For his infectious laughter and twinkling eyes and the endless car trips he made to see us and give us joy. I miss you. And to my great–great grandpa, George Miles, who came out West in search of a better life, won our first family newspaper in a poker game, fought vigilantes, stood for justice, and printed the truth. Now I know who I’m from, and I can’t wait to meet you in heaven. But one thing I know for certain is that you both will be entertaining each other with tall tales until I get there.

And to my divine entourage, who continues to show me so much more is possible and that I’m on the right track.

Acknowledgements

I am blessed beyond measure by the following people:

My editor, the ever–insightful and charming, Angela Polidoro; my amazing assistant, Maggie Mae Gallagher; the awesome Gregory Stewart for the 1960 Dare Valley map and for always helping me out when I need it; the Killion Group for the incredible cover art; my superlative copy editor, Helen Hester–Ossa and her help on journalism in the 1960s; my lovely eformatter, Meredith Bond; Bemis Promotions for my website; my parents for checking the 1960s details and giving me some fun ideas about where Arthur could take Harriet; and to Paul and Mary Blayney for wonderful background information about small–town life in the 1960s and their continued friendship.

T.F. For helping me keep the faith.

To all of my readers who love Grandpa Hale as much as I do and asked for his story. Here you go! Happy reading.

Chapter 1

B
abies sometimes made Arthur Hale feel as old as dirt, but mostly they made him smile. With his three–month old great granddaughter, Violet, tucked into the curve of his arm, he had to admit it was wonderful to have a baby around again.

And since his granddaughter, Jill, was an overachiever like he was, she’d given him not one, but two great–granddaughters. And they were beautiful, blessed with the red hair that was one of his late wife, Harriet’s, legacies. Of course, the babies’ hair looked like fuzz on a ripe peach now, but it would grow as they did.

The patter of rapid footsteps sounded in the hall, and one of his other favorite kids skidded to a halt at the door. Keith might be only eight years old, but he knew to be quiet around the babies. His mother, Deputy Sheriff Peggy McBride, had made that clear.

Tiptoeing inside, Keith approached the Amish rocking chair and peered over Arthur’s arm. “Grandpa, do you think Violet knows she got christened today?”

Since he’d finally told Keith and Peggy to just call him “Grandpa,” he couldn’t help but smile. His granddaughters had added to the Hale clan through their marriages, and Peggy was his grandson–in–law’s sister. Since everyone lived in Dare Valley, Colorado, the town of his birth and the town he’d be buried in, every weekend was a family fest. Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I think there’s a part of her that knows she’s been blessed and celebrated today,” he answered, wanting to straighten the red bow tie clipped to Keith’s white shirt. Funny how bow ties looked cute on boys, but not on grown men. He avoided wearing them except when he had to put on the occasional monkey suit to attend some fancy gala.

Jill danced into the nursery with Mia in her arms, the movement rather like the cha–cha he used to dance with Harriet. Jill’s curly red hair, leaf–green eyes, and porcelain skin came from Harriet. His beloved wife and best friend had passed away five years ago, and he still awoke each day hoping to smell the sweet hyacinth fragrance she always wore.

“Is Violet asleep?” Jill asked.

“Out like a light, if the amount of drool is any indication,” he replied with a wink, picking up the burp rag to wipe her rosebud mouth.

“Mia too,” she said, sinking into the purple arm chair in the corner, which clashed oddly with the explosion of bubble gum pink that decorated the nursery. “I think we can talk in our regular voices now. They’re like Brian. When they’re out, a passing train couldn’t wake them. Do you want me to take her, Grandpa?”

He snorted. “And put her where? On your back? You already have one on the front.”

Her curls bounced as she made a face at him, causing Keith to giggle. “I could lay Mia down.”

“But you don’t want to because she’s so sweet. That’s why I’m keeping Violet here. Been ages since I’ve held a baby. I plan to clock as many hours as I can with these two.”

Jill’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Maybe it’s the christening, but I really wish Grandma could see them. I think about her all the time since I’ve had them. Sometimes I even think I smell her hyacinth lotion.”

Goosebumps broke out over Arthur’s arms. After Harriet’s passing, he’d experienced the same thing. Made him believe she was an angel now, watching over them all from her place in heaven. He coughed and had to look away when he spotted the wetness in Jill’s eyes.

“She’d have loved these little ones. She had a soft spot for babies. Always wished we could have had more than your dad, but it just didn’t happen.”

“What didn’t happen?” his other granddaughter, Meredith, whispered from the doorway. Peggy was beside her, hanging back a little.

“The girls are out,” Jill said in a normal voice. “You don’t have to talk like that. How’s it going downstairs?”

“Mac’s talked the men into playing football even though it’s only twenty degrees outside,” Peggy said.

“Sweet,” Keith said and ran out of the room, ostensibly to join them.

“Where’s Abbie?” he asked. It made him happy to see her and her fiancé, Rhett Butler Blaylock, looking so happy together.

“Helping Mom and Brian make dinner. They shooed us out.” Meredith propped her hand on her hip. “Said we were in the way. Now what were you two talking about when we interrupted? Jill, I saw tears in your eyes.”

“Grandma,” she whispered. “I miss her, especially today, seeing Mia dressed in the christening gown she made for dad.”

Meredith came over and touched her sister’s shoulder. Still hanging back in the doorway, Peggy looked like she was about ready to join the men. Tears made her squirm.

“Grandma was a softy. She would have melted, seeing these beautiful girls.”

And he could tell Meredith was about to tear up too. If he didn’t do something fast, this was going to become a pity party, and while he didn’t mind tears, Harriet wouldn’t have wanted everyone bawling their eyes out on this special day.

“Your grandma was hardly a softy,” he told the girls. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

His granddaughters exchanged a puzzled look and then gave him their full attention.

“What?” Meredith asked. “Sure she was.”

He tucked Violet closer and started rocking, loving the motion. “She was a hard case when I met her. Rather like Peggy.”