Finding Forever

When Second Chances Come Wrapped in Montana Magic!

Beth Kowalski has spent the last decade being everything everyone else needed her to be. A devoted mother. A reliable friend. The woman who shows up with brownies when things go wrong and stays until they go right.

When a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity lands in her lap — managing Sapphire Bay's new community arts center — Beth's first instinct is to talk herself out of it. She's not qualified enough. Not experienced enough. Not enough, full stop.

Dave McGuire has built half of Flathead County with his hands and his word. He doesn't waste time on things that don't matter, and he doesn't say things he doesn't mean. When he tells Beth she's exactly the right person for the job, she's certain he's wrong.

He's equally certain she's the most capable — and most stubborn — woman he's ever met.

As the arts center takes shape and Sapphire Bay rallies around something new, Beth and Dave find themselves circling each other in the way of two people who recognize something in the other they weren't expecting to find. But Beth has built a careful life since Jessie died, and careful lives don't leave much room for the unexpected.

Sometimes the greatest thing we can build isn't made of timber and steel. Sometimes it's the courage to believe we deserve something beautiful.

Finding Forever is a warm, tender story about second chances, quiet bravery, and the people who see us more clearly than we see ourselves.

Beth Kowalski slid the tray of brownies from the oven and set it on the cooling rack, and for one quiet moment she forgot about the letter in her pocket.

The Welcome Center’s kitchen was warm against the dark January afternoon. Outside, snow had been falling since morning. Inside, there was butter, chocolate, and the happy chatter of women who enjoyed baking and loved each other’s company.

“Now those,” Susan said, leaning over to breathe in the smell, “are a crime against everyone trying to be sensible this winter.”

“I’ve baked them for the Church’s food boxes,” Beth said.

Susan straightened, her gray hair catching the overhead light. “Pastor John will appreciate them.” She had the easy confidence of a woman who’d once owned a successful catering company and now taught people how to bake delicious food. “And the ones cooling on the other two racks?”

“They’re for Pastor John, too,” Beth said.

Maria looked up from the counter where she was cutting parchment into neat squares. “You’ve never made that many for the food boxes. Are you sure you aren’t stress-baking?”

Beth wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ve got a few things on my mind, but I’ll be okay.”

Maria frowned. “If there’s anything we can do to help, just ask.”

Beth nodded. “I will.” She loved this circle of friends who’d grown out of their baking class. 

Maria, Rachel, Laurel, Julie, and Susan had become the people Beth turned to. She told them everything, except about the letter in her pocket.

“How are you getting on with Kayla’s wedding cake, Beth?” Rachel asked, sliding onto a stool. “The last time I asked, you were sketching different designs.”

“I still don’t know what will look the best.” Beth sighed. This she could talk about for hours. “Kayla has given me some ideas, but it has to be right.”

“How many tiers are you thinking of doing?” Susan asked.

“Maybe three, but that could be too ambitious.” Beth frowned at the brownies as though the answer were somewhere in them. “Kayla sent me some photos of different sugar flowers she wants cascading down the side of the cake. I’ve never done anything so intricate. What if the flowers fall off or the cake is a flop?”

“I can help with the decorations,” Susan told her. 

“And your daughter will love her wedding cake because you baked it,” Julie added.

Rachel licked some leftover batter off a spoon. “Speaking of weddings, have you made any plans for your own, Julie?”

Julie and Cole’s Christmas engagement was still fresh enough that the words landed like a small gift in the room.

Julie leaned against the counter. “Cole keeps asking me when I want to get married. I keep telling him there’s no rush. Then he gives me that look, and I start rethinking it.”

Maria tightened her apron. “Cole waited sixty-four years to find you. I don’t blame him for wanting to get married soon.”

Julie sighed, and Beth let the moment fill the room. She placed the brownies in the containers and told herself the letter could wait until she’d thought it through properly.

Rachel picked up her dirty dishes and stood beside Beth. “You’re very quiet today, and I don’t think it’s because you’re worried about Kayla’s cake.”

Beth forced a smile. “I’m okay.”

Rachel tilted her head. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Beth fussed with a lid that didn’t need adjusting.

Laurel was the next to notice something wasn’t quite right. “Are you sure?”

“It’s nothing,” Beth said.

“It must be something,” Maria said. “You’ve baked an awful lot of brownies.”

Beth held out a moment longer. Then she sighed and took the piece of paper out of her pocket. It was soft at the folds from being opened, read, and folded too many times.

She placed it in front of Susan. “Natalie Lanigan gave me this letter. She’s creating a community arts center in the old hardware building. Julie came with me to a meeting about it, and it sounds wonderful.” Beth paused. “Natalie has asked me to manage the center and help her oversee the remodel.”

For a heartbeat nobody spoke, and then everyone spoke at once.

“That’s fantastic, Beth,” Susan told her.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week,” Rachel added. “We’ve needed something like this for years, and you’d be perfect for the job.”

Beth shook her head. “I’m turning it down.”

The words fell flat in the warm room. 

“You’re doing what?” Maria asked.

“I’m not the right person.” Beth said it fast. She’d had a few weeks to line up the reasons, and they came out in a tidy row. “I don’t have a degree, and I’ve never managed anything like it. A few bake sales and a seat on the Welcome Center’s board don’t add up to running a real organization. They want someone qualified. Not a woman who gives her time away for nothing.”

“You ran the church fundraiser committee for years,” Laurel said softly. “And volunteering isn’t nothing. It shows you have a good heart.”

Beth frowned. “It’s not the same as being in paid employment.”

Maria set down her knife. “You put the midwinter craft fair together single-handed, and you know every artist and quilter for forty miles. Why would you turn down the job?”

Beth’s reasons sounded thinner out loud than they had in her kitchen at midnight, but she held on to them the way you hold a railing. “It’s a real job. There’s a lot of grant money involved, a deadline, and people looking over my shoulder. If I get it wrong, the whole town will be standing there, watching me make a mistake.”

“Or watching you get it right,” Susan said.

Beth had no answer for that.

Julie had been quietly studying her. “You were so excited after we’d talked to Natalie. I thought you wanted to work with her.”

“I do,” Beth told her. “But I’m still worried.”

Julie smiled. “You’ve spent your whole life doing the same sort of things they’re asking you to do. You just never called it a career, so you don’t think it counts. But it does.”

Beth bit her bottom lip. When she’d read the letter, she’d felt something in her chest that she hadn’t felt in years. It was a longing she thought she’d packed away with Jessie’s things after he died. She’d seen how much art could do—how it could mend a broken heart, start a friendship, and bring people together who might never have spoken.

She’d always dreamed of being part of something like the arts center. There were already a couple of exhibition and event spaces in Sapphire Bay, but none of them had room for more than one craft or arts group at a time, and none of them were open seven days a week.

After she’d talked to Natalie, she’d wanted the job so much that it scared her. But wanting to do something and being able to do it were two different things. If she failed, she’d never forgive herself.

Laurel read the letter. “It sounds exciting. Who’s doing the construction?”

“Dave McGuire,” Beth said, glad of somewhere else to put the conversation. “He’s the main contractor at the Finley Point resort. Natalie said he’ll split his time between the arts center and the resort.”

“Doesn’t Ryan work with him at Finley Point?” Julie asked.

Beth nodded. When she’d told her brother about the arts center and Dave’s involvement, he only had good things to say about his boss. “Ryan says he’s one of the good guys.”

She’d seen Dave around town, but she’d never paid much attention to him. The only things Beth could remember about him were that he was tall, broad shouldered, and always seemed polite.

Susan frowned. “If he’s managing both projects, he must be a busy person.”

“He must think it’s worth the trouble,” Rachel said. “From what I know about Dave, he doesn’t take on work that doesn’t matter to him.”

Beth tucked that away without quite meaning to.

Susan came around the counter and rested a hand on Beth’s arm. “Let me say one thing, and then I’ll leave it be.”

Beth waited.

“You’re always making sure everyone around you has what they need.” Susan’s voice was very gentle. “This time, instead of doing something for somebody else, take the job for yourself. Natalie is a good judge of character. She wouldn’t have offered it to you if she didn’t think you could do it.”

The kitchen went quiet. The clock ticked on the wall. Beyond the glass the snow fell, soft and steady.

Beth looked at the letter. She thought of all the reasons she couldn’t do the job, and of how much she wanted to say yes.

“I’ll think about it,” she heard herself say.

Susan smiled, squeezed her arm, and let her be.

While everyone went back to their baking, Beth slid the letter into her pocket. She’d think about what her friends had said, then decide what to do.

In the meantime, she had another tray of brownies to pack and a wedding cake to plan.