Read All-American Girl for Free Online

drew his brows together. “She was that wound up?”
    “More than wound up, I’d say. What do you young-uns call it? Freaking out? Yes, that’s what she was doing. Freaking out.” Her thin lips curved into a wan smile. “We thought she might hyperventilate right here in the reception area. Thank goodness ol’ Mel got her under control.”
    He drummed his fingers counter. Maybe it wasn’t just him she was mad at. Maybe she was mad at the entire world. How was she going to be level-headed enough to take care of Dorothy? “Yes,” he finally replied. “Freaking out sounds about right. Tell Mel I said thanks, all right? I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”
    “Don’t keep a lady waiting.” She grinned at him.
    He smiled back. “I won’t.”
    Lance made his way down the entrance corridor and through the glass doors. Being worried about Dorothy was one thing, but now he was even more concerned about Sam. He would have to figure out what her deal was before her attitude pushed everyone away. That was the last thing she needed to do right now. She would need help with Dorothy, the house, the antique shop, and her brother— if he ever swooped back into town.
    Lance shook his head as he jumped into his truck. It looked like his responsibilities just cranked up a notch, not that he minded. He and Sam still had some unfinished business of their own he’d been itching to take care of.

Chapter Two
    “One of the most important phases of maturing
is that of growth from self-centering
to an understanding relationship to others.”
~Sir Walter Scott
    A FTER G ETTING G RAM S ETTLED in the recovery center the next morning, Samantha traveled to Gram’s antique shop in the heart of Burlington. Church Street Marketplace was a strip filled with quaint shops and eateries, everything from diners to trinket shops, and rows of park benches and flowering trees.
    She wanted to see if anything needed to be done before Gram returned. It would be a while—Samantha understood that—but she could handle the shop for a bit and clean it up. Samantha didn’t want to disappoint Gram again . It was the least she could do.
    Samantha parked her car along the street lined with Bradford pear trees and stepped out into Queen City air. She drew in a deep breath, amazed at the sweet smell of grassy countryside and spring daisies. The bright sun was mid-sky, and she shaded her eyes as she crossed the street to the antique shop.
    Her phone rang, and she dug it from the pocket of her jeans. “Hello?”
    “Oh, hey! How are you? Did you make to Vermont okay? Is everything all right? Your grandmother?”
    “Whoa, Jenny.” Samantha laughed. “Take a breath.”
    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was worried about you, and since you haven’t called…”
    “Everything’s fine.” She leaned up against the limestone building that held the antique shop. “I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and I’ve already got stuff I could talk about over an entire night of chocolate and sappy movies.”
    “Uh-oh. Is your grandmother worse than you thought?”
    “Actually, no. Gram is going to fully recover with some therapy, thank God. She could’ve died, and I wouldn’t have been here. I left her. And then there’s the incompetent hospital staff I had to deal with—and an infuriating thorn in my side who’s decided to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
    “Stop. Remember what your therapist said.”
    Samantha cringed. She always remembered what her therapist said. Dr. Wade was, after all, one of the people helping Samantha overcome her issues. Anger issues. Patience issues. Control issues. Hell, if there was an issue, Samantha had it. And she hated it.
    “Yes, I remember,” she replied, frowning. The last time she’d seen Dr. Wade, she’d given Samantha an in-depth talk about self-determination and how problems weren’t really “problems”; they were stepping stones in this journey called life—and not life-ruining