Widowed at age thirty-nine and suffering from empty nest syndrome, Rebecca Sinclair is overshadowed by grief and loneliness. Her husband has been deceased for a year, her oldest child has moved to New York in pursuit of an acting career and her youngest child is attending college in France. Having spent over half of her life as a wife and mother, she has no idea what God has in store for her now. Will an unexpected inheritance in the wine country of New York bring meaning and purpose to her life and give her the courage to love again? US Postal worker Raymond Jacobey has been in love with the little widow since he first set eyes on her. A wanderer searching for the ever-illusive soul mate, Ray has never stayed in one place too long. Raised by self-centered, high-power executives, he's longed for the idyllic life of residing in a cozy house in a small town with the love of his life. Will he gain the heart of the lovely widow or will he lose her to the wine country of New York?
“They say that life begins at forty.”
Rebecca Sinclair rolled over and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Boy is that ever far from the truth,” she muttered, realizing that here she was on the downhill side of thirty-nine and counting the hours with dread and fear of what the next year would bring. “If this year is anything like the last one, I might not make it.”
So much had happened in one short year beginning with the death of her husband. The day started out like any other, an ordinary day in the ordinary, everyday life of Jim and Rebecca Sinclair. Only it ended far from ordinary when Jim’s car skidded off the road into a ravine. Investigations later reported that a massive heart attack and not the accident had taken his life.
She still couldn’t believe it, a heart attack. At forty-one, Jim seemed to be the picture of health. He’d always taken excellent care of himself, eating right and exercising. Work hard, play hard, and live right had been his motto, and he’d done just that. Right up to the end.
Fighting back memories and tears, Rebecca tried desperately to snuggle in the too cold bed and to concentrate on the happier times of the past when she’d looked forward to turning forty. When I turn forty, my youngest will be eighteen and out of school, and I’ll be through raising kids! How many times had she said that, laughing and carefree, looking forward to the day?