Catch a Falling Star by Lynette Sowell Read Free Book Online

smaller door. “I have a few things in here to collect before the rest gets pitched into a dumpster.”
    “Dumpster?”
    “Mart, who runs the storage center, needs all this stuff gone. He has customers who deploy overseas and don’t have family here, so some of them put their household items in storage while they’re gone. The people renting this unit never came back to get their things. Either that, or they stopped paying their bill. It happens. So, I bought the contents.”
    Justine nodded. “I imagine that happens a lot around here.”
    Azalea stepped through the open door, sunlight streaming into the room. “C’mon in. Oops. I forgot a box in the Durango. You can start looking through that box and see what you find. I can sell some of these items at flea market on Saturday. Speaking of which, I could use a hand then too. Are you up for it?”
    “I. . .I dunno.”
    “You can’t hide forever, you know.”
    “Ha. I bet I can.” Watch Azalea Bush try to talk her into going to the flea market thing. It would be hot, uncomfortable, and crowded. Like she wanted people taking photos of her, sweating under some canopy.
    “Well, I know you might as well get it over with. People can see you’re here then get on with their lives instead of speculating about yours.”
    “I’m not sure—”
    “Look, I can run interference for you and tell any bozos to take a hike.” Azalea squared her shoulders. “I don’t mind doin’ it one bit.”
    Justine felt a giggle tickle the back of her throat. “Azalea, I don’t doubt that at all. But. . . But why are you being so nice to me? It’s been years since I’ve seen you. Yet you’ve talked to me more than my own mother has since I’ve been home.”
    Azalea blushed a shade of pink to match her name. “I’m. . . Well, I’m a fan, you know. I always liked you. Even back when you were in Sunday School, I knew you were special. It just breaks my heart to see how things have turned out for you.”
    Which is all my own fault. Justine nodded, waiting for the I told you so’s to start, or advice on how she ought to have kept herself on the straight and narrow path instead of the broad way of destruction.
    “So. . . Am I a hopeless cause?”
    “Nope, not at all. God’s mercies are new every day. We just have to accept them.” Azalea grinned. “Plus, you coming here today shows me you’re not a hopeless cause. You’re not so absorbed in yourself that you can’t help someone. So, get busy with that box or I’ll change my mind.” She stomped from the storage room and into the sunlight.
    Justine ignored the cardboard box that Azalea indicated and instead stepped over to a small wooden box about the size of a pair of old-fashioned milk crates.
    Someone had loved this box once. Why didn’t the owner come back for it? Her own home in California was stocked with treasures she’d found around the world. A home she’d lose if she didn’t cough up eighty grand within thirty days.
    She rested her cane against a stack of boxes and opened the lid. The scent of tea tree oil tickled her nose. Thankfully, no mothballs. Paper crackled, and she pulled it back. A wedding dress.
    Underneath that was a cloth-covered scrapbook. Someone had glued glittery letters to the front of it. THE TREMONTE FAMILY STORY.
    Justine opened the front cover and started turning pages. A young soldier and his wife on their wedding day. Pictures from a road trip. Thanksgiving. A few pages later, the two of them with an infant.
    “What did you find there?” asked Azalea. She set down the box she carried.
    “A wedding gown. And a scrapbook.” Justine bit her lip. She didn’t know if her mother had any family photos or even cared to preserve anything of the Campbell family.
    “Sad, sad, sad.” Azalea shook her head. “This family likely got in over their heads with some sort of money trouble and the like and never thought to come back for these things—or worse, didn’t care anymore.”
    “I want to