Free Return to Me by Robin Lee Hatcher Page A

sing, to be famous. She’d wanted to see her name on a CD and hear her voice spilling out of the car stereo as she drove around Nashville. She’d had a dream, and she’d chased it.
    But she’d failed. Miserably.
    “Why?” Roxy leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and closed her eyes. “Why couldn’t it happen for me?”
    Because you weren’t good enough. Because you didn’t want it bad
    enough to make sacrifices. Because Elena was right. You’re spoiled and selfish. You reap what you sow.
    Roxy hated the voice in her head. She hated herself even more. Drawing a shaky breath, she straightened and opened the car door. She stepped out, her gaze lifting to the signage high on the
    three-story brick building: Burke Department Store.
    Like Elena before her, Roxy’s first part-time job was as a file clerk in the downtown corporate offices. The summer after gradu- ation from high school, again like her sister, she worked as a sales- person in the children’s department of the original store. She didn’t like the work, but it was only until she could leave for Nashville.
    That took longer than she’d expected. Her father wouldn’t bankroll her. He wanted her to go to college first so she would have something to fall back on if the singing career didn’t pan out. His lack of faith angered her. Every stubborn bone in her body rose up in defiance. She refused to go to college.
    But he was right, and I was wrong, she thought as she walked
    toward the nearest store entrance. Most women her age had careers or families or both. I have nothing .
    Roxy pulled open the tinted glass door and stepped into Burke’s vast shoe department. A smile crept onto her lips. She loved shoes. All kinds of shoes, but most of all boots with killer heels. At one time, the closet of her upscale Nashville apartment had been full of them. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth.
    As she moved through the floor displays, she trailed her fin- gertips over shoes on the display tables, remembering better times, times when she bought whatever caught her fancy, times when
    store clerks trailed in her wake like ducklings paddling behind their mama, eager to be of assistance.
    “May I help you?”
    Roxy stopped and looked at the pretty salesclerk, a girl of about twenty or so with silky blond hair and large blue eyes. Good grief. Had Roxy ever looked as fresh and innocent as the girl who stood before her? She thought not. “No, thanks. I’m just browsing.”
    “Okay. Let me know if you want to try anything on.” “I will. Thanks.”
    The blond walked away, in search of another customer. Some- one who looked like they had money to spend, no doubt.
    =

    Elena sat in the boarding area at the San Diego International Air- port, awaiting her flight. The latest issue of People lay open on her lap, unread. Weariness pressed down on her shoulders like a heavy coat.
    Yesterday was as bad as she feared it would be. The store man- ager didn’t take his termination well. Elena thought for a while she might have to summon store security to evict him from the building.
    However, it wasn’t the situation at the San Diego store that troubled her. It was thoughts of Roxy. Roxy and Wyatt. If Roxy hadn’t gone to Nashville in search of fame and fortune, Wyatt wouldn’t have seen Elena as anything more than a friend. He’d loved Roxy. It took several years for his heart to mend, but Elena was there, waiting, patient and understanding, loving him secretly in her heart, praying he would one day love her in return.
    Now Roxy was home again. Was Wyatt glad?
    With the pads of her index and middle fingers, she massaged her temples, willing the nagging headache to go away.
    Her mobile phone rang, and she plucked it from the pocket on the side of her briefcase, flipping it open without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”
    “How’s it going, honey?” Wyatt’s voice was deep and warm. Elena’s heart leapt.
    “Are you at the airport