This wedding seemed to be getting more complicated and more traditional by the day. But she valued Mitch’s request, his desire to be an integral part of the most important event in her life so far. And it wasn’t as though she had—or ever had—a father of her own to assume that role. Norm Schafer came the closest but he hadn’t exactly been what you’d call an adequate dad.
A week later, Mitch was home again, settled in bed for the next few days. By then Cord had regular help from Eric, two afternoons a week and Saturdays. He told Shallie he was pleased by Eric’s newly positive attitude and his willingness to learn, and he knew that much of the money he was paying the boy would go to the ranchers he still owed. Brynne had also recommended her waiter, Barry from Detroit, who claimed that he was “thrilled to get a real Western experience.”
So, back at the ranch, as Carly had started to say, things were fine. For the moment.
Shallie felt it was very much an in-between time. Above all, waiting to see Mitch’s condition improve. Waiting for Thanksgiving and wedding plans to coalesce. And she was intent on making progress with her photography and other new projects.
As Thanksgiving—and their party—drew closer, she noticed that their moods lightened, their fears lessened. But she couldn’t put a halt to her worries about Mitch; naturally, Cord felt the same. Mitch’s close call had made them more aware than ever of the uncertainty and brevity of life, of the need to cherish each and every day.
And ultimately, what was Thanksgiving about if not gratitude for life itself?
* * *
SHALLIE RECEIVED ANOTHER call from Russ, saying he had something else to show her. He didn’t know what it meant, he said, if it meant anything at all, but could she come over to look at it? Now? She knew from experience that he wouldn’t reveal anything he considered potentially important except in person.
She immediately drove to the motel, where he was waiting to let her in.
“So, what is it?” she asked, realizing she sounded impatient. “I mean, thanks and what is it?”
“Like I said, it could be useless. Here.” He took a postcard, in almost pristine condition, from his desk and handed it over. “I actually found it in a book of Della’s, if you can believe that. She was never much of a reader, but... Post date’s 2004. The year Della died.”
The front was a photograph of Hemingway House in Key West, with its colony of cats. The card was addressed to the Painted Pony Motel, and on the back someone had printed a brief message by hand.
S. WOULD LOVE THIS PLACE. GIVE POSTCARD TO HER IF YOU CAN. HOPE SHE’S WELL.
LOVE.
No signature, not even any initials.
Could this possibly be from Christine Fletcher? There were two hints. The reference to “S,” clearly a girl or woman, and the fact that it had been sent from Florida, where she’d had a long history. Was Christine saying—and this would’ve been fifteen years ago, Shallie reminded herself—that she lived or had been living in Key West?
“Maybe it is from Christine,” Russell said. “Anyway, I’d say it’s more grist for Eddie’s mill. And didn’t you say there’d been a sighting in Florida?”
“Yes, at or near the motel where she used to work in Orlando. I’ll courier this to him,” Shallie said. “And he can pass it on to Tony.”
She brought home the postcard to show Cord and Eli over lunch, and they agreed it was worth sending to Eddie. Shallie made the arrangements at the small courier office on Main—actually a kiosk at the drugstore—then met Carly at Meg’s.
On their way home, she told her about the postcard. What seemed to impress Carly most was the information about the cats. “Wow! So they’re all descendants of Hemingway’s cats?”
“Yeah. And his wife at the time, Pauline. Oh, and the cats are polydactyl.” Shallie had made a point of looking up Hemingway House for her own information.
“What’s that?”
“It means they have an extra digit—like a thumb.”
“Cool! So can they open packages and type and stuff like that?”
“I’m sure some of them can.”
“But if it was...your mom, why did she send that card?”
“I guess to let me know, in an indirect way, where she was at the time, which was about fourteen years ago. But right now?” She shrugged. “Could be anywhere. Or nowhere.”
“It’s Eddie’s job to find that out, right?”
“Right.” And by then they’d reached the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Friday of Thanksgiving Weekend
THEY WERE ALL gathered around the dining-room table—Cord and Shallie, Carly, Brynne, Tina and Mitch—finalizing plans for tomorrow’s party.
Brynne went through her menu, the bar list, quantities. “So, we’re expecting about sixty guests,” she said.
“Yes,” Shallie confirmed. “From near and far.” Julie and family would be coming from San Diego, Emma from Seattle, Eddie from Tucson.
Brynne smiled at that. “Okay, I think we’re covered.”
“Don’t forget the bourbon for Russ,” Shallie said.
“And we’ll provide the dog treats,” Carly put in.
“I figured,” Brynne said with a laugh. “I love that dogs are welcome.”
Cord laughed, too. “I’m sure you wouldn’t expect any different.”
“Not here, I wouldn’t.” She paused, looking up. “Is that a phone I hear?”
“It’s my cell,” Shallie answered. “Now, where did I leave it?”
“In the kitchen, I think.” Carly jumped up to get it. “Yeah—and it’s Eddie calling.”
Shallie answered seconds before the call could go to voice mail. “Hi, Eddie! Hope you’re not canceling on us.”
“No way. But...are you sitting down?”
“Um, no.”
“Sounds like you have people over. I suggest you and Cord go into another room for a few minutes.”
“Hold on. We’ll call you back,” she said breathlessly.
She leaned down to say in Cord’s ear, “We need to talk to Eddie. Privately.”
He stood abruptly, saying, “Excuse us, everyone. Be back shortly.”
Up in their room, hands shaking, Shallie hit Redial. Cord’s arm was around her waist as Eddie answered.
“Cord and I are by ourselves now,” Shallie told him. “I’m putting the phone on speaker.”
“Good. I’ve been in touch with...” He paused, but somehow Shallie knew whose name he was going to say. And he did. “Christine Fletcher.”
Shallie couldn’t stop shaking. “Then she’s...she’s still alive.”
“Sure is.”
Cord moved her gently toward the bed; they sat down as he continued to hold her close.
“Is she...all right?” Shallie hardly knew what to ask, what to say. Her mother! After a lifetime of grieving, searching, wondering...
“She is. And she asked me the same about you. I was happy to report that you’re doing very well.”
“Where is she?”
“Key West.” Shallie immediately remembered that postcard. “And she’s married to a guy named Doug Elliot. So her name’s Christine Elliot now.”
“Th-thanks.”
“She’d like to speak to you tonight. And she and Doug would like to visit, fly in tomorrow if possible. She doesn’t want to wait. Is that a problem, with your party and all?”
Cord whispered in her ear. “Tell him it’s fine.”
She nodded. “That’ll be okay. But give me an hour or so before she calls.” She turned to Cord. “Where would they stay?” she whispered.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out,” he whispered back.
“I’ll have her call at five, your time,” Eddie said. “And I’ll see you tomorrow. By the way, is it all right if I tell Eli—in confidence, of course—since he�
�s been instrumental in getting this search set up?”
She glanced at Cord and said, “Yes. And it’s fine for him to tell J.P.”
Then the call was over, and she collapsed onto the bed. “Could you let everyone know I’ll see them later?”
“What about telling Carly?”
“You and I will tell her this evening.”
* * *
AT PRECISELY FIVE, her cell phone rang. Shallie had spent the intervening hour thinking about the questions she wanted to ask and rehearsing her own responses to the questions she thought Christine was likely to ask.
Despite having waited and hoped so long for this very thing, she wasn’t ready, couldn’t possibly be.
“Hello?”
“Shallie? This is Christine Elliot. Your...mother.”
She couldn’t speak yet. A moment later, she managed to say, “Mom.”
“It’s me. Oh, Shallie, baby, I’ve loved you all these years. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me, too, Mom. But why didn’t you try to get in touch with me earlier?”
“For a long time I was worried about your safety. And later—I didn’t want to disrupt your life. I didn’t know what you’d chosen to do, but I knew you’d succeed at anything you did.”
“Thanks, Mom. But you knew that how?”
A moment’s silence. “I just did. I’ve always had complete faith in you.”
Shallie didn’t understand what that faith was based on but she supposed her question was one that couldn’t be answered in any logical way. She changed the subject. “So you’re flying here tomorrow? You and Doug?”
“We already bought the tickets. But Eddie told me you’re having a big party. Is it still okay? We could always change the tickets.”
“No, it’s fine. When do you get in?”
“Early evening. We’ll take a limo from the airport—”
“All the way here? That’s expensive!”
“Not a concern. However, it means we won’t get to you until later. How do you want to do this? Meet us someplace the next day? And would you like to talk now or wait until tomorrow?”
“Come to the party,” Shallie said, feeling reckless. “And we’ll talk tomorrow night. Catch up on our lives.” That’s thirty-three years of catching up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Saturday of Thanksgiving Weekend
CORD’S HOUSE WAS READY, logs in the living room fireplace lit, decorations in place, food and drinks ready for their guests. The buffet-style meal would consist of classic Thanksgiving fare, including turkey slices, gravy and cranberry sauce, salads and more. Brynne and two of her staff would do any serving and take care of the bar. Champagne would be the drink of the evening.
Cord and Shallie planned to make their announcements after dinner.
Meanwhile, The GateCrashers were setting up in a corner of the large room. Couldn’t have a party without them!
* * *
SHALLIE FELT NERVOUS, more nervous than she thought she’d ever felt before, her emotions a tangled mess of excitement and fear, uncertainty and hope. Every few minutes she found herself glancing around, although she knew they wouldn’t arrive for some time. The Elliots were planning to meet Eddie at Eli’s place, where he was staying, and he’d bring them here.
Eli and J.P. approached her with their fingers crossed—which made her laugh. One on either side, they kissed her cheeks and murmured encouragement. She’d also told Russ, who was astonished and said he was “absolutely thrilled.” He told her he’d invite the Elliots to stay at the motel. Shallie couldn’t speak for them, of course, but couldn’t help feeling that seemed appropriate—even though they obviously had money. She noticed that Russ, too, did his share of glancing around.
Shallie and Cord had discussed the final order of events and decided to let Carly make the first announcement. Just before she walked to the front of the living room, they poured some mock champagne into one of his grandmother’s crystal flutes, which Cord presented to her.
She made her way slowly to the small table that functioned as a podium, set up with a mic borrowed from The GateCrashers. “Hi, everyone,” she began. She raised her glass. “To my friends, neighbors and family.” Glasses in the audience were raised in return. “You know me as Carly Shannon.” Silence. “But today I’m officially Carly Hollister.” There were gasps of surprise and bursts of applause. She glanced over at Eli and J.P., standing off to one side, near the large front window. Trooper, of course, lay beside them. “I’m Cord’s daughter, Cord and Reba’s. Many of you will remember my mom. The DNA tests we had done, with Katie Fairfield’s help, proved that Cord is my father, proved it once and for all. I love the men I used to call ‘my three dads’—Cord, Eli Garrett and J.P. McCall—but now I have one dad and two uncles.”
The three met her at the front of the room and bowed, and the applause brimmed over.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you!” With a cautious sip, mic in one hand, she told her audience, “I also love this ranch, this town—and the people here.”
Then she moved back into the crowd, receiving hugs and best wishes.
Cord and Shallie allowed about ten minutes for Carly’s reception before they went to the podium. “We want to thank you all for being here,” Cord said. “First, though, let me say we’re very, very proud of Carly.”
“And we hope to see you all at our wedding next month,” Shallie finished. People were cheering and raising their glasses again.
Carly leaped up to join Cord and Shallie, grabbing the mic from him. “You know what this means, right? Cord’s my dad and Shallie’s my mom!”
The ovation seemed unending.
She lifted one hand. “We’re about to be upstaged by Holly Lewis, the cutest dog in the world.” Holly, off her leash, was trotting toward them, lovable ears flapping, tail wagging. Oohing and aahing from the audience. “She wants to congratulate me, too!” Carly and the dog walked to the back of the room, where they met the Lewises.
Eli and J.P. had asked to say a few quick words, as Cord’s best men and best friends; he and Shallie had agreed. The two of them advanced toward the microphone, and Eli spoke first. “Cord has been one of my two best friends for most of my life—and here’s the other one.” He placed his arm around J.P. “Now, Shallie is best friend number three. She’s one of us. And Carly is my honorary niece.”
Eli leaned toward the microphone. “Same goes for me. And Carly’s my niece, too!”
Surprisingly, Eric Worth pushed his way to the front, begging to have his say. Cord glanced at Shallie; she nodded.
“You probably think I’ve got a lot of nerve getting up to speak, but... I owe these guys,” Eric said, dashing a fist across his face. “Cord and Shallie and especially Carly have been friends. And I owe my uncle Eli. And my mom... Thank you!”
Russ came up to the stage then and took the mic from Eric. “I know this isn’t supposed to be a public speech-making thing. I just want to say that I consider myself part of Shallie’s original family. She’s my cousin, so now I feel I’m part of her new family, too. The best thing that’s happened to me in years was Shallie coming back to Painted Pony this past June. It changed my life. Thank you, Shallie.”
Not surprisingly, this brought applause, too.
As he finished, Julie hurried toward Cord and Shallie and asked in a low voice if they were okay with her speaking. “Definitely,” he responded.
“Thank you,” she said, swallowing visibly and stepping up to the makeshift podium; Cord passed her the microphone.
“I’m Julie Daniels. At one time I was Julie Hollister. I was married to Toby, Cord’s dad, and then...he died. Cord ended up living here with his grandparents.” There were more than a few gasps from the audience. “On behalf of my daughter, Kathleen, my husband, Chris, and myself, I want to say that we offer my son, Cord, his wife-to-be, Shallie, and
his daughter, Carly, our love.”
Bringing Lindsey with her, Carly rushed over to Kathleen, hugging her tight. The three young women maneuvered their way through the crowded room, edged past Brynne and went into the kitchen to talk.
* * *
CORD ANNOUNCED A short break, and that was when The GateCrashers began tuning up, and Aaron said that any comments they had would come in the form of songs.
The first was “Girl from the North Country,” followed by the ever-popular “I Walk the Line” and “One of These Days.” Carly sang “Mother and Nature,” the song she’d written about Reba. Aaron then asked her to perform her newest number. The music started, and she turned to grin at the band. “Here we go.
“I love them all
My new mom and my dad,
My uncles, too, and all my friends
Who’ve kept me from feeling sad.
Friends like Kathleen and Lindsey
And even Eric.
I love Tina and Mitch and Susan
And...
Sorry, Eric, couldn’t find a rhyme for your name.
But, hey, I’m not to blame!”
That brought laughter and a few hoots.
“I love M.J., Len and Holly,
Meg and her cats—and oh, golly.
The GateCrashers!”
She gestured toward them, which once again generated applause and cheering.
“I love Painted Pony Creek.
Here you’ll find whatever you seek.
I love every dog and cat and horse
Love my new school—
“Well, I don’t know where to end. What rhymes with school other than fool?”
People were shouting out alternatives. “Cool!”
“Rule.”
“Tool.”
“Pool!”
And from Eric, “Ghoul!”
Not her best song, Cord thought, but very much a performance. And he knew the emotions were real.
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