Return to Oak Valley Read Free

made in New Orleans had been the hardest part—especially their sympathy as she coped with the horror of Josh's suicide. Being an artist of some repute, there had been no employer to worry about—although several of her friends had wondered about her decision to sell her furniture and give up her apartment. Surely, Roman had asked, concern in his emerald eyes, you will come back to New Orleans after you have seen to Josh's affairs? She had hunched a shoulder, unable to answer him. Seated in the first-class section of the plane for the flight to San Francisco, her gaze fixed on the disappearing runway below her, Shelly finally admitted that she had known the answer to his question, had known the answer from the moment she had learned of Josh's death. No, she wasn't coming back to New Orleans—no matter what she found in Oak Valley, no matter how painful her return might be. She took a deep breath. She was returning to Oak Valley for good. Returning home to stay after seventeen years away. She could not have explained it—it was simply something she felt she needed to do—even if everyone thought she was peculiar for doing so. She could live with peculiar, she thought, as she pushed open the door to Josh's house and stepped inside—right now, all she wanted was a bed.
    Shutting the heavy oak door with its stained-glass window behind her, she headed for the wide staircase that dominated the large entry hall. Josh had sent her the architect's plans and had told her a lot about the house so, despite never having stepped foot in the place, she knew exactly where everything was situated.
    A mixture of guilt and longing swept though her again as she pushed open the door to the main guest room on the second floor. Josh had told her all about it, his pleasure in the then-new house almost palpable. We should have been doing this together, she admitted with a lump in her throat, tears welling up in her eyes. She bit her lip, assailed by remorse, not even seeing the room in front of her.
    What a selfish little bitch she had been, she thought, not to have come home even once during all these years. It didn't matter that she and her brother had talked almost weekly on the phone, or that Josh had flown to New Orleans to share most holidays and vacations with her…and to gamble, she thought wryly, remembering his passion for the turn of a card. He would have made a great Regency buck, with his love for every kind of game of chance.
    She was lost in thought for several moments, remembering Josh laughing when he had had a particularly good night and his cheerful insouciance when he lost. “Next time,” he'd murmur, his green eyes twinkling. “You wait and see—next time the story will be different.”
    Josh had been such an optimist and had had such a joy for life that it was hard to believe that he was gone. Dead. Bleakly, she wondered if Josh would still be alive had she faced her own demons and come back. If she had been here, would she have seen the signs of depression? Would she have realized that he was suicidal? Could she have prevented him from taking his own life? She had been asking herself those bitter questions ever since the news of his death had been relayed to her. There had been no real reason for her not to have come home before now—even if only briefly from time to time. Other than that she had been a coward, whispered a sly voice.
    She dashed away a tear. Enough. She was home now, and even if Josh was not at her side, she could still appreciate the pleasure he had taken in his home.
    The room in which she stood was gorgeous—huge and airy, one whole end a wall of glass that extended from the open wooden beams of the ceiling to the floor; in the middle, a pair of sliding doors led to a small, partially covered balcony beyond. Through the glass she could see an iron table and chairs sitting outside on the balcony.
    The oatmeal-colored carpet muffled her steps as she walked farther into the room, her gaze touching