Autumn by the Sea
Acclaim for Melissa Tagg
“An extremely charming tale with a twist and mystery. Tagg is at her best with this one, mining the depths of family and love. A shining novel not to be missed."
-Rachel Hauck, New York Times Bestselling Author
“With complex characters, a swoony romance, and a charming seaside town you can't help but fall in love with, Melissa Tagg delivers once again!"
-Courtney Walsh, New York Times Bestselling Author
“Melissa Tagg is a fantastic writer—each story is better than the next, and this one shines!”
-Susan May Warren, USA Today bestselling, award-winning author
“This story about finding a place to belong is pure perfection and loveliness from start to finish. Not only is it set in a gorgeous seaside village, but both Neil and Sydney’s journeys tugged at my heartstrings and did not let go till the end. Filled with Tagg’s signature blend of romance, charming quirk, and emotional depth, Autumn by the Sea is definitely one for your keeper shelf.”
-Lindsay Harrel, author of The Inn at Walker Beach
“In Autumn by the Sea, award-winning author Melissa Tagg shows us how a family is held together by love, not by sharing a last name or heritage. The story has everything readers want: an engaging romance, a keep-you-guessing mystery, and intriguing characters. Written with Tagg’s trademark humor, book one in the Muir Harbor series made me eager for what comes next.”
-Beth K. Vogt, Christy Award-winning author
“Melissa Tagg has done it again! She crafted a swoon-worthy, heart-tugging romance with a meet-cute that beats all meet-cutes. It was full of mystery and surprise and kept me turning pages well into the night. I can't wait for the rest of the series.”
-Tari Faris, author of The Restoring Heritage Series
MAPLE VALLEY SERIES
“Powerful. I’ve always loved Melissa Tagg’s stories, but this one is something special. Lyrical, yes. Enchanting, of course. But her story about a broken man meeting an equally broken woman and their journey to healing touched unexpected places in my heart. An absolutely beautiful, compelling read.”
-Susan May Warren, USA Today bestselling, award-winning author
“This book . . . so many feelings, so much love for this friends-to-more-story. I loved all the emotions these characters brought out while finding their happy ending . . . Truly an inspiring read.”
-RelzReviewz.com, for Some Bright Someday
“The author creates a compelling inspirational novel filled with her trademark romance and brings the readers to tears as they discover the pain and heartbreak that hero Marshall Hawkins has faced in his life . . . highly recommended for fans of contemporary romance."
-Inkell Inspirations
WALKER FAMILY SERIES
“Tagg crafts a beautiful romance filled with humor, mystery, and heartfelt emotion . . . Tagg’s moving story beautifully explores themes of redemption and the nature of home.”
-Publisher’s Weekly, for All This Time
“Bear and Raegan are endearing and intriguing characters, and readers can't help but fall in love with them. Tagg excels at fleshing out the hints we've been given throughout the series and developing them into layered, authentic backstories...A doozy of a first kiss is completely worth the wait, and even a little suspense is skillfully worked into the plot—in case pulses weren't already racing. (They were.)"
-RT Book Reviews, 4½ Stars TOP PICK! for All This Time
"With her inimitable style, Melissa Tagg has penned a gem of a story, one that will delight longtime fans and entrance new ones. Replete with swoon-worthy moments, unwrapping Bear's complicated history and discovering Raegan's hidden struggles make this a love story that resonates on a deeper level."
-RelzReviewz.com, for All This Time
“With profound truths on one page and laugh-out-loud hilarity on the next, Like Never Before quickly becomes one of those novels I didn’t want to end. Melissa Tagg has penned a delightful story that took hold of my heart and didn’t let go. Superbly well done!”
-Katie Ganshert, bestselling, award-winning author
“In Like Never Before, readers are invited to revisit the much-loved Walker clan that delivers on the promise that even if lost once, love can be found again. In true Melissa Tagg style, the dialogue is smart and the romance is real and raw in all the right places. This series is witty storytelling at its best.”
-Kristy Cambron, bestselling, award-winning author
“Tagg (Made To Last; Here To Stay) writes heartfelt and humorous gentle romances with a wisp of faith woven throughout. Fans of her previous two books will want this one. And devotees of Rachel Hauck and Robin Lee Hatcher will embrace a promising new author.”
-Library Journal, for From the Start
"Tagg excels at creating wholesome romances featuring strong young career women, gentle humor, and an unobtrusive but heartfelt infusion of faith."
-Booklist, for From the Start
Books by Melissa Tagg
MUIR HARBOR SERIES
Autumn by the Sea
A Seaside Wonder (coming early 2022)
Wedding at Sea (coming spring 2022)
MAPLE VALLEY SERIES
Now and Then and Always
Some Bright Someday
WALKER FAMILY SERIES
Three Little Words (prequel e-novella)
From the Start
Like Never Before
Keep Holding On
All This Time
ENCHANTED CHRISTMAS COLLECTION
One Enchanted Christmas
One Enchanted Eve
One Enchanted Noël
WHERE LOVE BEGINS SERIES
Made to Last
Here to Stay
E-NOVELLAS
A Place to Belong
One Royal Christmas
Someday Soon
Copyright © 2021 by Melissa Tagg
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design: © Hillary Manton Lodge Design
Title lettering: © Nicole Letters
To my sister, Nicole Schwieger, who helped me dream up this new series right when my storyteller’s soul needed a creative reset.
And to Courtney Walsh, whose understanding, friendship, and encouragement as I juggle my “two lives” (and not always that, ahem, smoothly) mean so much to me.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Author Note
A Seaside Wonder
Author Note & Acknowledgements
About the Author
My Dearest Robert,
Sometimes I think about how no one understands.
No one else, after all, was there. No one else stood in that place like I did, wrapped—trapped, really—in a twisting acrid fog, the wreckage laid out in front of me. The ruination of at least two lives. Hers and, in some ways, many ways, mine.
The mystery of the third life haunts me to this day. And they all think I’m ridiculous, I know this. They think I’m holding on to a shadow.
But shadows aren’t formed from nothing.
Oh, this isn’t the letter I meant to write. This isn’t the Margaret Muir you knew. And I’m not this morbid Maggie every day. No, on the happier days, I think about you sweeping me off my feet at seventeen and causing my parents no end of consternation when you proposed so quickly.
Or I think about how she first came to me—Diana. Bundled and asleep, pudgy-cheeked and tiny, rosebud lips. Only the barest, lightest wisps of hair that would one day redden and confuse folks into thinking I’d birthed her myself.
But no, I received Diana. A gift in the midst of my greatest sorrow. I, a widow, at only nineteen. Well, not technically. Mom and Dad did, after all, insist we wait. But in the heady joy of first love, my heart had made the commitment. And thus, the breaking of it was every bit as sharp as any war-time wife’s when you went away and didn’t return.
But then . . . Diana. New to the world and already alone. In need of arms to hold her. And mine, so very empty.
In those first moments, the warmth of her slumbering form nestled against my chest, it was as if I could finally hear Hope’s whisper once more. “I haven’t forgotten you, Maggie Muir. There’s still so much more for you.”
And I’m still so grateful. Even though, in the end, she too was taken from me far too soon.
It’s for her memory I keep searching, Robert. Searching for Cynthia—little Cindy—my daughter’s daughter . . .
Because even all these years later, I still hear her cries in my dreams.
And because even all these years later, Hope’s whisper is still there. “I haven’t forgotten you, Maggie Muir.”
Just as I haven’t forgotten her. And will never forget you.
With all my love,
Maggie
For once, Chicago’s heady, heavy wind—stubborn and pummeling and rife with autumn cold—came to Sydney’s aid, pushing her from behind as if aware her taut lungs and straining legs might give out at any second.
But it was the fear that kept her running.
She clutched her purse to stop its bouncing against her thigh and veered around a corner, past the bakery—the sticky, sweet smell of Nikola’s famed caramel rolls doing nothing to comfort her. Not with the stranger’s pounding steps growing closer.
Half a block. Just half a block to the ancient three-story brick building she’d called home for nearly twelve years now. Its crumbling exterior and overgrown hedges, the creaking front door with the peeling paint and pointless crooked brass knocker had never looked so welcoming.
Her shoes clacked over the cracked sidewalk, and she resisted the urge to crane her head, twist her gaze to the man she’d first spotted watching her back at the restaurant. Initially, she’d taken him for a regular old creeper, his stare following her around the labyrinth of tables and booths as she took orders, delivered plates of Italian food, prayed for good tips.
And yet, his dark eyes hadn’t leered so much as just . . . studied. Why was that even more unnerving than the ogles of other uncouth men?
Even so, she hadn’t thought too much of it. Had simply thanked her lucky stars the man’s booth wasn’t in her zone of tables and finished out her shift.
But she should’ve known not to count on luck.
“Some kids don’t get lucky.” Why was it the social worker’s raspy voice, tinged with pity, always found the worst times to resurface?
Yeah, well, some adults don’t get lucky, either.
No. Some adults left their workplace with sore feet and a dogging, too-familiar fatigue, only to feel a niggle of alarm halfway home. Only to slow her steps and turn around and see the same man from that corner booth.
Chilly air scraped her cheeks as she willed her legs to stay in motion. So close.
Has to be someone Micah knows. He’s finally gotten in too deep and I’m about to pay the price and—
Realization swooped in as she passed the once-auspicious Victorian next door to her building. The thumping steps from behind—they’d quieted. Or maybe stopped altogether. She slowed only the slightest, allowed herself a glance over her shoulder.
Nothing. No one.
Just the swish and rustle of the weeping willow in front of the Victorian and an empty sidewalk. And from somewhere down and across the street, the distant voices and laughter of the kids who were always outside kicking around a soccer ball.
Had the man given up? Decided she wasn’t worth the pursuit?
Her pace slackened to a quick walk as she turned onto the narrow cement path that led up to her boxy apartment building. Maybe the man had gotten word from a higher-up who’d called off the chase. Lord knew the kind of people Micah had gotten involved with generally didn’t do their own dirty work.
Or perhaps this didn’t have anything to do with Micah. Perhaps he’d been serious last time she’d talked to him three, maybe four, weeks ago. Perhaps he’d meant what he’d said about starting fresh and—
“Sydney Rose?”
A deep voice, winded but firm, came from behind her, along with a hand on her arm.
She whirled. Him. Where . . . how had he . . . ? He must’ve cut through the lawn in front of the Victorian, hidden by the willow, the grass quieting his steps.
Why—why?—had she stopped running? She should’ve raced to her building’s front door, flung herself inside, and refused to slow down until she’d reached her cramped apartment, turned both locks, and slid the tiny chain into place.
“Get away from me.” She fumbled with her purse. “I’ve got mace.”
He dropped his hand, one corner of his mouth quirking. “Thanks for the warning, but you won’t need it.”
She backed toward the building until her heels knocked into the first of three concrete steps leading to the front door. When she stumbled, the man reached out for her arm again.
With a flinch, she jerked away, heart hammering. “I said get—”
“I’m not here to hurt you. If you just would’ve stopped the first time I called your name—”
She wrenched away, instinct pulsing through her as she booted her foot toward the man’s knee, his oomph letting her know the kick had done at least a little good. She whacked him with her purse, then scrambled up the steps.
“Please, I just want to talk—”
She yanked the door open and raced inside. For possibly the first time since she’d moved into this building, she didn’t wrinkle her nose at the faint, ever-present scent of the cloves her landlord smoked or wince at the thumping bass coming from 1B. She barreled up the carpeted staircase and reached her door in seconds, jutting the key into the lock with shaky hands.
Finally, pulse still skittering, she barricaded herself in her apartment—turned both locks and slipped the chain into place. Breathe, Syd. Just breathe.
Should she call the police? Or simply wait and hope the man went away? If only she kept a baseball bat by the front door. Should’ve kicked him harder. Or better yet, kneed him in the groin. Francie at the restaurant kept trying to get her to join her for a self-defense class. She really ought to take the chef up on it, especially if Micah couldn’t get his act together—
The knock bellowed, shoving her heart into a tailspin all over again. Her groan was lost in the sound of a second knock and the man’s frustrated voice.
“Sydney, please, I’m not here to harm you. I just need to talk to you for a few minutes. I’m sorry I alarmed you.”
“Would you just go away? I don’t know who you are. If you think I’m going to open my door—”
“My name’s Wilder Monroe. I’m a private investigator. Here, I’ve got my badge and my license. I’m going to slide them under the door, okay?”
A moment later, the items brushed over the faded hardwood floor and appeared at her feet. She ran her clammy palms over the front of her work uniform—white collared shirt, black tie, black pants—and forced an exhale as she bent. The glint of the brass badge drew her focus first, the words private investigator in blue above an emblem.