by Jill Gregory
In Lissie’s bright cherrywood kitchen, Sophie set the table and poured coffee for herself while decaffeinated green tea steeped for Lissie. Lissie took out cream and sugar, then whisked a sky blue platter of muffins onto the table, moving gracefully despite her bulk.
“So this is me, Soph. Spill.” Leaning back in a kitchen chair, Lissie stretched out her legs and popped a bite of muffin into her mouth. “How are you really doing?”
“Trust me,” Sophie said with a grimace. “You don’t want to know.”
“That bad, huh?”
She mustered a smile, which might have fooled anyone except Lissie. There was no sense hashing over how stupid she’d been, trying to hang on to something with Ned that had apparently been gone for a very long time.
“I can’t let Ned and his baby mama ruin the rest of my life. That’s all I know. I won’t let them.”
“Good.” Lissie’s brown eyes were soft with sympathy. She hesitated. “I know how horrible this whole thing must have been for you. I’m sorry.”
No, you don’t know, Liss, Sophie thought. You might think you do, but you can’t imagine what it feels like. And I hope you never do. Seeing your husband with his pregnant mistress. The shock of your heart blowing up. The pain, tearing everywhere. Like shrapnel.
Sophie pushed back her chair and paced across the kitchen. She stared out the window at the patio and Lissie’s pretty, airy garden. In the distance, lavender gray mountains gleamed against the cobalt sky. But she saw instead a doctor’s waiting room. The man she loved holding the hand of a woman whose belly was rounded with new growing life.
She squeezed her eyes closed a moment, trying to block the image.
It’s too bad there isn’t a recipe for happiness, she thought. I’m a whiz at following recipes.
When she turned back toward Lissie, the old cheerleader gleam had entered her friend’s soft brown eyes and Lissie spoke with determination.
“You’re going to get through this, Soph. You’re going to be happy again. Things will be better than you can even imagine.”
“Liss, I don’t need a pep talk—”
“Just you wait and see.” Lissie sailed on as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re going to meet a wonderful man and have a beautiful family and all of your dreams and wishes are going to come true—”
“I hate to interrupt you, Fairy Godmother, but right now I’d settle for getting through the next forty-eight hours without throwing something.” Sophie grinned wryly and returned to the table as Lissie held up both hands.
“That’s okay. Just give me fair warning so I can duck.” She plopped another muffin onto Sophie’s plate.
“How’s Tommy?” Sophie seized the chance to change the subject. “He must be counting the seconds until the baby.”
“You have no idea. Poor guy’s up to his ears in work, trying to get as much out of the way as possible before she makes her debut. It’s a girl, you know.” Lissie smiled mistily. “I mean, she’s a girl. We’ve decided to name her Molly—or Caitlin. Depending on which one we think she looks like when she finally makes her appearance—oh!”
Lissie paused as they heard the sound of a truck door slamming in the driveway.
“That must be them.”
“Them who?” Sophie took another sip of coffee.
“Rafe. And Ivy. His daughter.”
Sophie set the cup down with a slight rattle just as a girl’s voice rang out and the screen door creaked. “Aunt Liss, it’s me.”
“Come on in, honey bun, we’re in the kitchen.” Lissie seemed too comfortable to hoist herself from her chair.
“I’m hanging out with Ivy today,” she explained quickly as rapid light footsteps echoed through the airy house—and Sophie went very still at the table. “She starts sixth grade in a few weeks, and it’s a very big deal, if you remember. I promised to take her shopping for new school clothes. Rafe has to drive to Helena for a horse auction and won’t be back until suppertime.”
Sophie felt a ridiculous flash of electricity under her skin as she braced herself for Lissie’s oldest brother to come through that door.
You’re not an infatuated twelve-year-old anymore—get over it, she reminded herself. You have bigger things to think about than the one that got away . . . hell, the one that never got close.
“Hey, Aunt Liss.” A coltish young girl of eleven or twelve burst through the doorway. Tall and thin for her age, Ivy Tanner had a shoulder-length mop of wavy auburn hair and delicate features, which Sophie suspected would soon bloom into startling beauty. Her arms seemed too long for her narrow body, her ink blue eyes almost too big for her heart-shaped face. She peered in surprise at Sophie, then her gaze shifted shyly away to Lissie.
“Dad said to tell you thanks.”
“What do you mean? Where is he?” With a frown, Lissie glanced at Sophie, then away. Her lips puckered. Sophie immediately recognized that peeved expression, and a sudden horrifying suspicion dawned on her.
Oh, Lissie, please don’t tell me that’s why you wanted me here by ten o’clock. I’m so not ready to be pushed into the path of any man—and I won’t be for a long time. And especially not your big bad brother.
“I don’t see why he couldn’t have come inside this house for one little minute,” Lissie complained.
The platter of muffins was attracting Ivy’s interest. “He said he was running late for the auction and that I should tell you he’ll be back to pick me up by six. I have a sleepover tonight at Shannon’s.”
Lissie didn’t appear the least bit satisfied with this explanation, but she quickly introduced Ivy to Sophie.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ivy.” Sophie smiled at the girl, who was trying to unobtrusively study Sophie’s sleek dark jeans, her scoop-necked yellow top, and low-heeled sandals. “I bet you were named for your grandmother.”
Ivy’s head bobbed. “Yeah, but I don’t really remember her that well. She died when I was a little kid. My dad showed me pictures though.”
“I knew her.” Sophie smiled at Lissie, who had lost her mom seven years ago. “She was a wonderful woman. And it’s a beautiful name.”
“Sophie knew Grandma Ivy because we’ve been best friends since first grade,” Lissie explained. “Exactly like you and Shannon.”
“Oh.” Ivy looked at Sophie again, quickly, this time with a dawning realization. “You’re that Sophie—Sophie McPhee. The one who just moved back here. I heard about you yesterday.”
“You did?” Lissie’s brows rose, but Sophie wasn’t all that surprised. Lonesome Way’s legendary gossip hotline had apparently been activated.
“From who?” she asked.
“A bunch of us were over at Mary Kate’s house. Her mom was talking on the phone about the library. You know, the fund-raiser.”
Lissie grimaced. “Mary Kate’s mom is Georgia Landry—Georgia Timmons now,” she told Sophie with a grim look. “I’m sure you remember her.”
Sophie did. In their high school yearbook, Georgia had been crowned Most Likely to Take Over the World. There was no committee she hadn’t headed, no major student office she hadn’t run for.
“How in the world did Georgia know I moved back already?” Sophie began, then realized there were a hundred interconnections that could account for it.
Her own mother might have told Martha Davies, owner of the Cuttin’ Loose beauty salon, and Georgia could have come in afterward for a blow-dry.
Or Gran might have told one of her friends, who mentioned it to Lila Benson at Benson’s Drugstore while Georgia was in line buying hand cream and breath mints.
Word got around in Lonesome Way. Often faster than it took to click and send an e-mail.
“So what did she say?” Lissie probed, as she plucked a muffin on a plate for Ivy and shuffled to the refrigerator to pour her niece a glass of milk.
“Something about . . .” Ivy hesitated.
“Tell us, Ives,” Lissie coaxed, grinning. She set the glass of milk down on the table in front of her nie
ce. “It’s okay, we want to know.”
“Well . . .” Ivy took a breath. “She said something about how Sophie McPhee”—she glanced at Sophie apologetically—“better not think that just because she’s run back to Lonesome Way with her tail between her legs that she’s going to get to take over as refreshment chair for the fund-raiser.”
Finally, a giggle escaped Ivy as Lissie and Sophie looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“She also said if you wanted to bake anything to help raise money for the library, you’d have to bake what she told you to bake, nothing more, nothing less. You’ve probably figured out,” Ivy added, “that Mary Kate’s mom is in charge of refreshments. And she’s pretty bossy.”
“You think?” Sophie grinned. “Liss, remind me, no matter what happens, not to volunteer.”
“It’s too late for that.” Lissie lowered herself back into the chair. “I heard something from Minnie Cole, who’s on the crafts committee, that your mom already volunteered you. You’re stuck.”
Sophie’s grin evaporated. “Kill me now,” she muttered with a sigh.
“So you baked these muffins?” Ivy had already devoured the first one and was reaching for a second. “They’re really good. I think you should be in charge of refreshments.”
There was a natural sweetness about Rafe’s daughter, Sophie realized as she refilled her coffee cup and poured more hot water for Lissie’s tea. One day soon, Ivy Tanner was going to turn into a very stunning young woman. She didn’t know it though—hadn’t a clue. There was unaffectedness in those incredible dark blue eyes, the same dramatic shade as Rafe’s.
That’s where any obvious similarities ended though. Ivy’s eyes were soft and childlike—innocent. While Rafe’s . . .
Well, there’d never been anything soft or innocent in the eyes of the wild and handsome young cowboy Sophie remembered.
And she remembered quite a lot. Especially all the times she and Lissie—when they were nine, ten, even eleven—had followed Rafe around Sage Ranch, annoying the daylights out of him as he did his chores and took care of the horses. And then there were the other times—when they’d spied on him, trailing him like little unseen ghosts as he led this girlfriend or that to out-of-the-way places around the ranch for make-out sessions.
They’d had to smother their hands against their mouths to keep from giggling aloud when they followed him and his latest girl to the barn or one of the sheds or even out into the pasture, one of Rafe’s favorite make-out spots. They hadn’t dared get too close, but had dropped down to the ground and crawled, their hearts pounding with the fear of giving themselves away. They’d considered it exciting and fascinating and funny to huddle there, silent as mice, spying, and scarcely daring to breath while Rafe sweet-talked Angie Cook or Linda Rae Simkins or one of his other girlfriends into sneaking off alone, locking lips in the hayloft or the deep grass or even on the banks of the creek that ran through both the Sage and Good Luck properties.
How many times had she and Lissie shaken with silent laughter as Rafe and some girl teased and kissed and tussled and tickled each other in a nest of straw or summer grass?
It had seemed uproariously funny at the time. Until Lissie would sneeze or a giggle would escape Sophie or one of Rafe’s brothers, Jake or Travis, would suddenly stumble upon them and demand in a shatteringly loud tone, “Hey, what are you two brats up to now?”
Furious, Rafe would chase them off while they shrieked and ran for their lives. Sophie thought it was a wonder he hadn’t killed the both of them for the way they’d tormented him. She seemed to remember that the girlfriends had been even more livid, screeching in outrage.
Only because we interrupted all their fun, she reflected wryly as she sat in the Norris kitchen listening to Rafe’s daughter tell Lissie that her father had given her a credit card to use today and had called over to the Top to Toe clothing store on Main Street to be sure they let Ivy charge what she decided to buy, up to the amount he’d set for her shopping spree.
“Oh! Well, here we go again.” A beatific smile suddenly spread across Lissie’s face, and she gazed raptly down at her belly.
“She’s kicking again?” As Ivy sprang from her chair, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Can I feel?”
“Sure. Come here.” Taking the girl’s hand, Lissie guided it to the left side of her stomach, rounded beneath the ruffly white top.
Wonder filled Ivy’s eyes. “She’s really trying to get out of there, Aunt Liss. Even more than last time.”
“Don’t I . . . know it.” Lissie grunted after a particularly hard kick. “She already seems like a pretty determined little thing, doesn’t she? But she’s going to have to stay put for a while. Especially since you and I have big plans for today.”
“And I should be letting you get to them.” Sophie hoped no one would notice the slight catch in her voice as she stood up. She fought back a twinge of longing, wondering how it would feel to have her baby kicking inside of her, knowing that in a matter of weeks and days, she’d be holding a tiny new life in her arms. For an instant, the intensity of her sadness almost made her dizzy.
She reminded herself that she was happy for Lissie and Tommy, and for their little girl, who was going to have two phenomenal and loving parents.
Parents who both wanted her with all of their hearts.
“Sophie, why don’t you come with us?” Lissie drew in her breath at one particularly ferocious kick. “We’ll scout out all the cute preteen tops and jeans first, and then grab some lunch at Roy’s. You’d better come—you won’t have too many more chances.”
“What are you talking about? Chances for what?”
“To eat at Roy’s. Didn’t your mom tell you?” Lissie shifted position in the chair. “Roy’s is closing next week. Roy and Lil are retiring, moving to Wyoming to be closer to their kids. As I remember, you thought their fried chicken was the best in the west.”
“It is. It was.” Roy’s Diner was a Lonesome Way institution. It had been in the same location on Main Street ever since Sophie could remember. She and Lissie and their other friend, Mia Quinn, had hung out at Roy’s after school almost daily.
“What will Lonesome Way do without Roy’s?”
“Well, there’s still the Double Cross Bar and Grill and the Lucky Punch Saloon. And the drive-throughs, but . . .”
Lissie shrugged, and in her head, Sophie finished the words she hadn’t spoken aloud.
But it won’t be the same.
Sophie could picture the small round tables in the front half of Roy’s Diner. The black vinyl booths in back. The white-tiled floor and homey pictures of old cabins, cattle, and horses on the green walls. Roy’s Diner served breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Its menu was extensive, from pancakes and sausages to hamburgers, milk shakes, chicken pot pie, and blueberry crumble.
“So? You coming?” Lissie winked at Ivy.
“Wild bears swarming up Main Street couldn’t keep me away. But I’ll drive. Your job is to sit back, relax, and count the baby’s kicks.” She turned to Ivy.
The girl had looked surprised when Lissie invited her to join them.
“You don’t mind if I tag along?”
“It sounds great. If Aunt Liss gets tired, then you two can go over to Roy’s while I finish shopping. Sometimes it takes me a while to try clothes on and decide and stuff.”
“Now that sounds like a plan.” Sophie remembered all too well the importance of back-to-school clothes. Particularly the seemingly momentous choices that would help determine one’s social standing in middle school. Ivy seemed to feel she had her work cut out for her.
“What are we waiting for then?” Sophie began loading the plates in the dishwasher with quick efficiency, then wiped down the table with a pink dishrag. As Lissie held out a hand, Ivy helped her rise off the kitchen chair.
“I’m only worried about one thing.” Lissie smoothed her top down over her bulging belly. “I hope you two can keep up with me.”
Chapter Three
Ivy’s cell phone rang while she was in the dressing room zipping up the cutest pair of black jeans she’d ever seen. Even before she grabbed the cell, her stomach started to hurt over what the caller ID might show.
But it was just her dad, so her heartbeat slowed down and the pain in her stomach eased away.
“Dad, did you get the mares?”
“One of them so far. She’s a beauty, Ivy. The other one’s coming up for bidding later.”
Joy rushed through her. A new mare. Maybe two mares. She could hardly wait to see them. “And what about the gelding, the one Mr. Henry said was skittish?”
“Got him too, baby. We’re going to have our work cut out for us.”
“Yeah, Dad, right. You mean, your work.” He never let her actually train the horses, not the difficult ones. She got to feed them, brush them, muck out their stalls SAGE CREEK 33 and stuff, all the boring work, but she didn’t get to start them or ride them until her dad had finished what he called “working out the kinks.”
It sucked.
She was eleven, not a little kid anymore, and she knew almost as much about horses as he did. And was just as good a rider. It wasn’t fair.
“Are you bringing him home today? I can see him tonight?”
“I’m bringing the mares back, honey. Shiloh will be delivered in a few days. You leave any clothes on the hangers, or have you bought everything in the store by now?”
“Very funny, Dad. Aunt Liss bought me a really cool shirt as a present, and I found khakis I can wear to Val’s party. And Aunt Liss’s friend Sophie spotted this pink top on sale—it’s sweet, the best top ever, and it costs ten dollars less than when I saw it online the other day.”
It had been kind of nice, actually, having Aunt Liss’s friend come along with them to town. Sophie was really pretty and sophisticated, like a model on TV, and her clothes were cool. She’d hand-picked a few other tops Ivy really liked too, before she and Aunt Liss went over to Roy’s for lunch.