“Sorry!” She grabbed the porch railing to keep from tumbling them both down the brick front steps.
“I rang the doorbell,” he said quickly, “but I figured everyone must’ve been out back. So I was just letting myself in.”
“And I was letting myself out—a bit clumsily I must admit.”
“Hope?” he said with what looked like a flash of recognition.
She looked into his warm brown eyes with curiosity. “Are you a relative?”
“No. A friend.” He flashed a brilliant smile as he extended his hand. “Lewis Garson.”
As she told him who she was, she wondered two things. Why did that name sound familiar? And was it just her imagination or could he pass for George Clooney’s younger brother?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His smile remained as he released her hand then stood tall. He appeared to be about six-foot-four or so. His pale blue shirt was neatly pressed and his khaki pants had crisp creases down the front. This guy either had a fastidious wife or an excellent dry cleaners. She wanted to peek at his left hand but felt that was too obvious. And since when did she concern herself with the marital status of male strangers? It must’ve been all those aunts’ and cousins’ inquiries over hers. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He shoved his hands into his pockets in a slightly dejected way.
She shook her head. “Should I?”
“Probably not.” He nodded to the house next door. “Actually, I’m here for your grandmother.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You must not have heard that she passed on.”
“I know about that. Actually, I’m Mrs. Bartolli’s attorney.”
“Oh?”
“Cherry invited me to stop by this evening.” He looked slightly unsure. “But it sounds like there’s quite a crowd.”
“Kind of an unexpected family reunion of my grandmother’s relatives.”
“Maybe I’ll wait to talk to Cherry after the funeral service tomorrow.”
“Oh…right…” Hope was curious as to what Nona’s attorney wanted to say to Cherry, although it was probably none of her business. “So I assume you’re handling my grandmother’s estate?” She knew she sounded both stiff and nosy but couldn’t help herself.
He simply smiled. “Yes. And I wanted to arrange to meet with the family members after Mrs. Bartolli’s service for the reading of the will.”
“All of the family?” Hope tried to imagine the attorney with all of Nona’s relatives gathered together in one room. Certainly he didn’t plan to read the will to everyone, did he? As far as Hope knew, Nona didn’t really have all that many worldly possessions in the first place. “I mean there are probably a couple hundred relatives. Not that everyone will be here, but I’m guessing there are more than fifty out in Cherry’s backyard at the moment.” Hope slowly shook her head. “Who knew one little woman could be responsible for so many offspring, eh?”
He smiled. “You remind me of your grandmother.”
Now Hope laughed. “Well, other than the fact that I’m about a foot taller than she was or that she was just a bit older than I am, well, I assume the resemblance must be quite striking.”
His dark eyes twinkled when he laughed. “I wasn’t speaking of stature as much as I was of spirit. You seem to have a lot of your grandmother’s spirit in you, Hope.”
“Thank you. I will take that as a compliment, and I will get out of your way.” She stepped aside to let him pass. “Feel free to go in. They’re mostly in the backyard.”
“And I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’ll be at the funeral,” she called out as she went down the steps. As she walked next door to Nona’s house, she wanted to add that she would, for sure, be looking for him. But then, she wondered about something he’d said…something that suggested she should remember him…but from where? And with those dark good looks and old-fashioned charm, why would she have forgotten him?
Nona’s little bungalow was more rundown than Hope remembered. The siding was in need of paint, and some of the shutters looked loose, but it was Nona’s beloved flower boxes and garden beds that caught Hope’s attention. Weedy and neglected…it seemed to suggest that Nona must not have been in top form these past few weeks. Late May and early June had always been Nona’s favorite time of year, and even last year she’d written to Hope about how her various flowers and plants were doing. Hope was tempted to see if the spare key was still stashed under the ceramic frog like it used to be, but she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to go inside Nona’s house. Perhaps it was better to simply remember it as it once had been. Hope stooped to pull up a milkweed that had forced its way between a crack in the cement walkway. And then she pulled another. And as she pulled the stubborn noxious plants, she found herself remembering.
Nona’s house had been Hope’s haven while growing up. Faye, more than six years older, had always seemed to live her own carefree life—a life that Hope wasn’t old enough to participate in. And Cherry, though only sixteen months younger, had seemed babyish to Hope. Always small for her age, Cherry had been needy and clingy. Plus, she was “so adorable” that people would stop to comment on the curly blond locks and baby blue eyes, making Hope feel invisible, or worse, like the Ugly Duckling.
In Nona’s house, Hope felt special. She helped with cooking and gardening and was always spoken to as if she were a grown-up. And although it was never said, Hope always felt that she was Nona’s favorite. At least while she lived at home. Once she moved on, Hope assumed that Cherry usurped that title…along with everything else. Somehow Cherry, the spoiled baby, had turned out to be the Cherry on Top. She wound up with everything—Hope’s boyfriend, their parents’ house, and Nona’s love.
Hope felt tears filling her eyes, and she realized that her hands were full of weeds. Here she was in her best courtroom suit, pulling weeds in Nona’s yard. She tossed the weeds into the gravel of the driveway then went over to the old separate garage and opened the two side-swinging doors, which Nona never kept locked. Then, she got into Nona’s old car. Hope knew the story of the old Rambler well. Not only was it a classic, but it was a Classic. A light blue 1965 Rambler Classic. Grandpa Bartolli, a man Hope had never met since he died shortly before she was born, bought Nona that car “new” for their twentieth wedding anniversary. And Nona had kept it all these years. But because Nona usually walked to town and church, the car still had less than thirty thousand miles on it.
Hope inserted the key, turned it, and presto—the car started. Hope smiled as she put it into reverse. Oh, sure the car was a little clunky and it certainly didn’t have all the modern conveniences of her BMW, but it was really a sweet little car. And solid as a rock, too. She wondered what would become of it now. Her best guess was that Cherry would be the one to deal with it as well as everything else. That’s probably why Lewis, the good-looking attorney, wanted to speak to her. But if Hope had a double garage, she might even be tempted to ask about buying the old Rambler. But, really, what would be the point? It wasn’t as if it were a practical car for the city.
Hope decided to give the car a good run. Hopefully she’d charge up its battery as well as enjoy a sentimental journey. She was surprised at the growth that had taken place in Sisters over the past ten years since she’d been gone. New housing developments, new businesses, a whole new grocery store complex. Really, it was turning into a charming little town. And the shops and restaurants looked busy, too. But then, that had always been the case during summers. And even during the ski season, it wasn’t too bad.
As she continued to drive, she discovered a whole new development on the east side of town. A nice looking spa and convention center, restaurant and brewery, hotel and adorable cabins, not to mention a barn-shaped building that appeared to house a theater with four screens and a restaurant, too! Wouldn’t they have loved that back in the old days?
She headed out of town now, driving east toward the rodeo grounds. Sisters boasted the “biggest little rodeo” in the world. And it was t
rue, because they awarded the largest cash prizes at the smallest rodeo, luring big-name cowboys from all over the country. Rodeo weekend was always a big event in the small town when she was growing up. How many times had she been in the rodeo parade? Probably not as many times as Cherry, who (thanks to Drew and his family) was actually a rodeo princess when she was a senior in high school.
Drew’s family owned Crooked L Ranch, and his dad, Drew Lawson Senior, was on the rodeo board. Plus, he raised some of the best beef around. And horses, too. In fact, that’s how Cherry first wangled her way into Drew’s world. When she was about fourteen, Cherry begged Hope to take her out to the ranch where she met Drew’s mom, an expert horsewoman and barrel racing champion from the fifties. Cherry started taking riding lessons from Mrs. Lawson and the rest, as they say, was history. Whether Cherry planned the whole thing or whether it was just one of those things would probably never be clear, but the fact was, Cherry set herself up nicely.
Drew still worked on the family ranch and would own it one day, but Cherry had begged to live in town. She convinced Drew that she would die of loneliness out there in the sticks. And then she’d convinced her dad to sell them the house at a rock-bottom price. And then Avery and Harrison came along and living in town made sense for them. As usual, Cherry got her way. When did she not?
Hope turned the car around in the rodeo grounds. Already the campground looked to be filling up, and rodeo was about ten days away. Not that she had any plans to be here for it. No, those days were long past. Still, she paused, looking longingly at the mountains behind the open stadium. Those had been some good times!
As she drove back to town, she compared her life then to her life now. Were there ever two worlds as different? And if she were being honest—even if only to herself—which world would hold more appeal? If anyone had asked this question ten years ago, she would’ve said her current life, hands down, was much better. Living in the city, working as an attorney, driving a cool car, wearing fancy clothes, dining in fine restaurants, attending concerts and shows, really, what could’ve been better than that?
Only now, she wasn’t so sure. Something about the sweet simplicity of her hometown was surprisingly appealing. The mountains were gorgeous, the blue sky amazing, the air fresh and clean, the streets less busy, the shops looked interesting and the new developments seemed charming. And yet, what would a corporate attorney do in a town like this?
But did she really want to continue in corporate law? Perhaps that was the biggest question gnawing at her soul. The past several months, she had found herself dragging herself out of bed, wishing she could call in sick, and just plain dreading going to work. Oh, the pay was good and the benefits were great, but the actual work…well, it was lackluster and disappointing and not anything like what she’d imagined her life as an attorney would be like. But then, everyone had to settle…didn’t they? Well, everyone except her little sister. Miss Cherry on Top!
As Hope drove back through town, she felt inexplicably tired. Exhausted. So weary she thought she could probably go to bed and sleep for days. But then she would miss the funeral. And wasn’t that why she’d come…to say good-bye to Nona?
Hope checked into the hotel, parked the car by her room, and retrieved her bag from the backseat. Even this hotel had been redone. The room was decorated lodge style, including lodge-pole pine furnishings and a rock fireplace. Very warm and inviting. But all she wanted to do at the moment was to sleep and sleep. And hopefully she’d have a better perspective on things—particularly her own life—when she woke up.
But just as she was drifting, caught in that filmy twilight place between waking and sleeping, she thought she heard Nona’s voice talking to her. It was as if she were saying: Just let go, Hope. Let it all go…when you let go, God in His mercy will hold on…let it all go…and He will hold on…just let it all go. Let it go…let go…
Chapter Four
Hope felt unexpectedly refreshed when she woke up in the morning. And she felt something else, too…she felt strangely happy. She stretched lazily in the bed, yawned, and then slowly opened her eyes. But she was surprised to see that she wasn’t in her condo bedroom in the city. Instead of her sleek, modern furnishings—espresso-toned wood, stainless steel accents, and glass—she was in a cozy room with warm colors and rustic wood furniture. Oh, yes, the Ponderosa Hotel…Sisters…Nona’s funeral. She sat up to look at the clock, worried that she’d slept too late for the nine-thirty service, but was relieved to see that it wasn’t even eight yet.
As she showered, she remembered Nona’s words—was it really Nona? Or maybe it didn’t matter who or what the source was. Whatever the case, as she replayed the “Let Go” mantra in her head, she knew that there was truth and release in those words. For so long, probably since Mom’s death, Hope had tried to hold onto every little thing. Her goal had been to control every part of her life, to be in charge, to manage, to direct, to maintain…and to succeed. And yet it seemed impossible. As soon as she reigned in one area another felt like it went slip-sliding away. And in the end, where did all her effort and energy and strife get her? Did it make her happy? Did it bring her peace? Contentment? Fulfillment?
As she dried her hair, she decided it was time to quit thinking about these things. Oh, certainly, there was some wisdom in the “Let It Go” philosophy, but the truth was, Hope had a career and responsibilities. She had bills to pay and people to please. Letting go might work for some people, but people like Hope probably needed to hold on—and hold on tight.
She brushed her hair back away from her face, wound it around into a smooth French twist, and secured it with bobby pins. Then, she spent her usual five minutes to do some minimal (businessappropriate) makeup. She slipped on her sleeveless “little black dress” and topped it with a sweet little cream-colored lacy cardigan that she’d bought from a boutique in the Pearl District because it had reminded her of one that Nona used to wear. She pushed her feet into a pair of relatively sensible black pumps, although the heels might be a challenge in grass, and finally put on her diamond stud earrings (ones she’d bought for herself, not a gift from some previous lover, although one had offered) and snapped her favorite silver bracelet in place. She picked up her black Gucci bag and gave herself one last check in the mirror. Nona would not be ashamed. Sensibly chic without being ostentatious. Appropriate for a funeral.
Even when Nona was old (or seemed old to Hope) she’d had a good eye for fashion. She respected the classics and was a fan of women like Audrey Hepburn, Leslie Caron, and Jackie O. As a child, Hope hadn’t fully appreciated Nona’s taste. As an adult, she embraced it.
Hope drove to Nona’s church, which wasn’t Catholic like one might expect, but rather a small Protestant church that Nona’s first husband, Charles Emerson, had belonged to since his parents had moved to this town to start a small lumbermill in the late thirties. Charles had even helped to build the church before being called off to war. And even after his death and Nona’s second marriage to Antonio, an Italian immigrant who had been raised Catholic, Nona had insisted that the Lutheran church was familia. Since Antonio hadn’t been particularly devout after moving away from his family in San Francisco, he wasn’t too sorry to give up Mass anyway. Although Nona said that she sometimes forced him to go to church with her for holidays or if they’d had a fight, and she suspected he occasionally snuck off to confession in his later years. But both Charles and Antonio had been buried in the cemetery that belonged to the old church, and it wouldn’t be long until Nona’s remains would rest between them.
Hope parked Nona’s car then checked her purse to make sure she had tissues. Not that she expected to break down at the service, but it was a possibility since her emotions seemed to be playing havoc with her lately. And, as she recalled, she had sobbed like a baby at her mom’s funeral, although that was to be expected since they were all in shock. But, if the truth were told, Hope had probably been closer to Nona than her mother. Not that Hope planned to admit this to anyone. And,
as usual, that thought alone made her feel guilty again. There it was, the old grief-and-guilt connection—bound together at the hip.
It wasn’t quite nine-thirty, but already the church was filling up. A young man in a bad suit and a nice smile shyly handed Hope a program. She looked down at the pale pink paper to see what must’ve been an old photograph of Nona on the front. But she looked so young and pretty that Hope almost didn’t recognize her. Hope wondered if Nona had picked it out as one last testament to the tiny streak of vanity that ran through her since girlhood. But it made Hope smile.
The small church made Hope smile, too. She hadn’t been here since childhood, when she would sit next to Nona in the third pew. The memory of those happy Sundays filled her with an unexpected warmth now. As a child she’d taken her faith seriously. God had been her best friend. But somehow, that old relationship, like so many others, had slipped away during adulthood.
Hope hadn’t asked her sisters to save her a spot with the family, although she’d expected they might. She certainly would do as much for them. But as she made her way down the aisle, it looked as if the first few pews were already packed full. Cherry and Faye were seated next to each other, with Cherry’s family to her right, and Monroe, Dad, and Cindy to Faye’s left. To balance out the picture, Hope, the middle sister, should’ve been seated between Cherry and Faye (wouldn’t that be how Nona would want it?), but there was no room. And Nona’s other numerous relatives were filling up the other pews for several rows.
Hope realized she shouldn’t have assumed anything. And she should’ve set her alarm and gotten up earlier. Really, in her family’s eyes, she was probably just a black sheep anyway. Plus, if she didn’t hurry to get a seat she might find herself standing in the back since the whole church seemed to be quickly filling up and there were still people milling about looking for seats. Just then someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Hope turned to see a slightly familiar looking woman with short auburn hair.
Love Finds You in Sisters, Oregon Page 3