The passing freeway hummed beneath the wheels of the SUV as they drove east. Ahead of them, the Boise foothills, brushed with the green of spring, rose from the valley floor until they became pine-tree-covered mountain peaks, the tallest of them a mile above sea level. Samantha thought they were like beautiful sentinels, protecting the Boise River and all that lay in the valley. How amazing it must have been for those early explorers and settlers to see those mountains and trees for the first time after so much time crossing the high desert.
“Hey, Sam. Where’d you go?”
She blinked as she looked toward Brooklyn.
“You were thinking hard about something.”
“Sorry.” She gazed out the front windshield again. “I was thinking about the pioneers who first came to the valley.”
Brooklyn laughed. “Now that was not what I expected you to say.”
“I know. But I’ve always been fascinated by the history of this valley. I think I was ten when Gran took me to see parts of the Oregon Trail where it drops down to the Boise River. I remember being amazed that I could stand in ruts made by those wagon wheels after more than a hundred and fifty years. Gran told me how the wagon trains could travel only about ten to fifteen miles in a day. It took them four or five days to get to Boise from what’s now Mountain Home. We can cross that same ground on the freeway in half an hour or so.” She gave her head a slow shake. “I would never have had the kind of courage needed to be a pioneer. You know, to leave everything you know behind, understanding you’d probably never be able to return. No matter how much you might want to.”
“Goodness, you were deep in thought.”
Samantha chuckled in agreement.
“Tell me something. If you love history so much—and I know you do because I can hear it in your voice—why on earth are you an accountant? The two interests don’t seem to go together. Or am I wrong about that?”
She shrugged. “Accounting seemed like a more sensible and secure way to make a good living. And when I was in college, that’s what I wanted most.”
“Security?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
Samantha echoed, “Hmm,” and then deftly changed the subject.
They arrived at the mall about ten minutes later. Brooklyn chose a parking spot on the south side of the building, and they entered through the main doors. Three senior-citizen mall-walkers, arms in brisk motion, moved past them as Brooklyn studied the directory.
“What Gran wouldn’t give to be able to do that,” Samantha said, her gaze following the gray-haired ladies in pastel warm-up suits.
Brooklyn looked at Samantha, then in the direction of her gaze. “She will be before she knows it. Ruth never shies away from a challenge.”
“You’re right. She’s always been like that.”
Brooklyn nodded, then pointed to a shop name on the directory. “Let’s start there. They’ve got lots of cute dresses. And there’s a shoe store right next door with some to-die-for heels.”
Samantha had been to the Boise mall in the past, but not often enough to be familiar with its layout. She was content to let Brooklyn lead the way. It turned out her cousin’s wife not only knew where to go but was as good as any personal shopper could have been. And the bonus was she knew how to buy stylish clothes without spending a small fortune.
When Samantha said as much to Brooklyn, the other woman laughed. “I was a single mom working as a waitress for a decade. I was always broke and scraping by, so I learned how to shop on the cheap. I don’t have to be as careful these days, but I still hate to waste money.”
By the time they left the mall, after lunch in the food court and another hour of shopping, Samantha carried several bags. One contained a gorgeous emerald-green dress. It had a scooped neck, capped sleeves, and an asymmetrical hem with soft fringed lace along the edge of both hem and sleeves. The skirt was short but not too short. Elegant, yet subtle. Another bag held a pair of green satin heels that matched the lace of the dress exactly. Those were for the Friday rehearsal dinner.
For the wedding she’d chosen a dress of black, white, and wine-colored fabric. The flowing skirt, again asymmetrical, fell to just below her knees. Brooklyn had insisted—given the attire of the wedding party—that Samantha buy a pair of Western boots to wear with the dress. And that was where the cost-cutting measures had ended. The boots cost Samantha more than the two dresses and the pair of heels added together.
But she could not care less about the expense. Because when she’d put on those boots with that dress, she’d felt beyond fabulous. She’d even imagined what Nick might think when he first saw her in the outfit, and it had made her stomach and heart react in those fluttering, quickening ways. All too familiar reactions. Perhaps dangerous reactions.
When they reached Brooklyn’s automobile, Samantha tossed her packages into the back and closed the hatch. “I’ve never enjoyed shopping much. The difference must be your company.”
Brooklyn laughed. “I’m sure that’s it.”
“Seriously. You made this a lot of fun.”
“You too.” Brooklyn’s expression was earnest now. “It’s been great getting to know you better, Sam. I would envy Derek his wonderful extended family, only now you’re all my family too.” Her smile returned.
Was it contentment that flowed over Samantha? Serenity? Peace? Whatever it was, it was something she hadn’t felt in so long she couldn’t name it. But she liked it.
Ruth glanced at her cell phone and read the text on the screen. “That was from Brooklyn,” she said to the three women— Camila Diaz, Tracy Vinton, and Lucca Phillips—seated with her at the kitchen table. “They’re on their way home. But I think we’re done. We all know the plan for Thursday.”
“Don’t you worry,” Camila said. “We know what to do.” She rose from her chair. “We’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is look innocent and pretend you’ve forgotten what day it is. Sam will never suspect a thing.”
Ruth frowned. “Do you think she’ll believe it? I’ve never forgotten her birthday before.”
“When you get up on Thursday,” Tracy said, “act like your ankle is extra painful and that you had to take a pain pill. Then stay in bed and pretend to be asleep whenever she checks on you. That should do it.”
Lucca chuckled. “You’re awfully devious for a pastor’s wife.”
“You have no idea.” Tracy’s smile was full of mischief.
Everyone laughed at that.
Doubt began to swirl inside of Ruth after her friends departed, each with their own assignment for the surprise birthday party. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea. Samantha’s feelings might be hurt when Ruth didn’t wish her a happy birthday, let alone have a gift or a card for her. And what if Bianca called to wish Samantha happy birthday and then wanted to talk to Ruth too? She hadn’t considered that. It would surely spoil the surprise. She’d better let her daughter in on the plan. She reached for the phone.
“Mom?” Bianca said instead of hello. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine, dear.”
“Is Sam taking good care of you?”
“You know she is.”
“Yes.” The tension melted from Bianca’s voice. “I do know that. Sam would do anything to take care of her gran. She loves you to the moon and back.”
Ruth smiled at the familiar phrase. “I love her the same way. And you too.” She paused. “But listen, dear. I’m calling about Sam’s birthday.” She quickly told her daughter the plans for the surprise party on Thursday night, ending with, “So if you could hold off calling her until evening, it would help.”
“Of course I’ll hold off. Oh, I wish I could be there too. Tell you what: I’ll send her a text first thing in the morning, wishing her a happy birthday and promising to call in the evening. That way she won’t be suspicious.”
“Perfect.”
When they ended the call ten minutes later, Ruth leaned back on the kitchen chair, her booted leg br
aced on the scooter and her eyes closed as her thoughts drifted to other birthdays celebrated in this house. Walter had been the mastermind behind more than one surprise, for Ruth and for their children and grandchildren. Oh, that man. She’d been such a sucker for his dry sense of humor. Time and again, she’d fallen for it, becoming part of the joke. Even when she’d expected he was up to something, he’d been able to fool her.
“I miss you, Walter,” she whispered to the empty room. “But we’re all in God’s hands, and we’re well because of it.”
Derek put a hand on Nick’s shoulder as the two men looked over the land. “This new system is going to make our farm even more successful. You and your crew did a great job, and I’ll make sure to let your company’s owner know how pleased I am.”
“I appreciate it. They’ve never done an installation quite like this one, according to Brett. Maybe now they’ll do it more often.”
“I’m thinking they couldn’t have done it without you. Your suggestions made a big difference, even if I did have my ideas mapped out in advance.” Derek looked at Nick. “Come on up to the house. We’ll get something to drink before you take off. I think there’s Dr. Pepper and Diet Coke in the fridge.”
“Sounds good.”
As they walked, Boomer following close behind Nick, Derek said, “Before I forget, I’m supposed to tell you there’s a surprise birthday party in the works for Sam. You’re invited.”
Samantha’s birthday. He hadn’t known. Or if he had known once, he’d forgotten it since. “When?”
“Thursday evening. We’re supposed to be at Gran’s house by five thirty. They’ve devised a plan to have Sam out of the house until about six. Presents are optional. It’s the people Gran wants there.”
“I’ll be there.”
He wouldn’t have refused under any circumstance. After all, Samantha was helping him out by being his plus-one for Rudy’s wedding. No, that wasn’t the reason. He wanted to be at her party. He was glad for any reason to spend more time with her. Her party and Rudy’s wedding were good starts.
Good starts to what? he wondered. Then he answered his own bothersome question with, To friendship. But did he believe that was enough for him any longer?
Even as he shoved away the question, another one occurred to him. This one he gave voice to. “Any chance Brooklyn could find out what Sam plans to wear to the wedding?”
Derek cocked an eyebrow.
“I thought my birthday gift could be a necklace or bracelet or something to go with whatever she’s wearing on Saturday.”
“Ah. I see. And you’re in luck. Brooklyn should know what Sam’s wearing. That’s where she and Sam are now. Shopping for clothes to wear this weekend. I’ll tell Brooklyn what you need when she gets home and have her call you. She’ll be able to give you a few ideas.”
“Thanks.”
At the house Derek got cold bottles of pop and brought them to the back porch. Miss Trouble came out of the house with her master and joined Boomer in the shade of a tree. The two dogs began to chase each other, the smaller, older dog delighting in tormenting the larger, younger one. It never failed to amuse Nick. Boomer always seemed confused around Miss Trouble.
“So, where’s your next job?” Derek settled onto a chair.
“Not too far from here. The Riverside Vineyard is expanding, and we’re handling the new irrigation system for them.”
“That’s great. I love to hear about a place doing well enough to expand. And you can be sure that I’ll be recommending you to plenty of other area farmers.”
Nick grinned before taking a long swig from the bottle of Diet Coke. It felt good to receive Derek’s praise. It felt good to know that his work was appreciated. Sometimes, during his recovery, it had seemed an impossibility that he would even be able to hold down any job, let alone excel at it. But if succeeding in his job wasn’t impossible, what else might not be impossible?
“Hey, Derek.”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve heard that there’s some great white-water rafting in Idaho. Any idea where I could go see some?”
Derek, like Samantha and Ruth, now knew a little about what had happened to him on a kayaking trip in Colorado. Not everything, but enough to make him give Nick a questioning look.
“I’d just like to look,” he answered.
“Well, the Middle Fork of the Salmon River is probably the most famous for white-water rafting trips. But you probably know that.”
Nick tried to remember. It sounded familiar to him, so he nodded.
“But the Salmon’s more than an easy day trip away. If you want something closer, you should look at the south fork of the Payette up near Banks. It’s maybe forty miles or so north of here. I’m not very knowledgeable about rafting, but I’ve heard the south fork has Class IV rapids.”
Excitement coiled inside of Nick. It made him feel more alive than he’d felt in a long while. He was going to take that drive, just as soon as he could manage it.
Chapter 11
On Thursday morning Samantha opened the door to The Clip Job, Thunder Creek’s one and only hair salon. Taking a quick breath for fortification, she walked inside. Gran had insisted that Georgia Hanover, the owner, was just the person to trim and style her hair. She hoped her grandmother was right, because tomorrow night was the rehearsal dinner for Nick’s brother.
“Sam!” Georgia greeted her on sight. “Welcome!”
Since Samantha was a young girl, she’d known Georgia as one of Gran’s close circle of friends—which had always puzzled her. They were such an unlikely pair. Her grandmother was traditional to her core. On the other hand, Georgia’s bohemian nature showed in the visible tattoos on her arms, the hippie style of her clothing, and the bright-purple stripe in her slightly bird’s-nest-looking hairdo. The latter didn’t instill much confidence in Samantha as she settled into the styling chair.
“Ruth says you have some special events this weekend and want to look your best.” Georgia swiveled Samantha around to face a full-length mirror.
“Yes.” Nerves tumbled in her stomach again. Were those nerves about her hair or those special events?
“Well, we’ll get you all fixed up.”
Samantha started to wish she’d flown home to Portland to her regular stylist. She could have done it all in one day with an early enough start and a rental car. That would have been one expensive haircut, to be sure, but at least she would have known what she was getting.
“All right.” Georgia met Samantha’s gaze in the mirror, at the same time fastening a cape around her neck. “Tell me what we’re doing for you today.”
She explained her preferences, hoping she made herself clear. Then, to make sure, she pulled out a page she’d torn from an old People magazine. It was a photo of the actress Emma Stone. “I want it to look like this.”
“Sweetheart, it already does.” Georgia laughed. “I guess what you’re telling me is just give you a trim and keep the shape. Maybe an inch off the ends, I’m guessing.”
Samantha nodded as the tension eased from her shoulders.
Georgia escorted her to the wash bowl. When they returned to the styling chair, a towel wrapped around Samantha’s head, her cell phone chirped, notifying her of a text message. She drew it from her pocket beneath the cape. The text was from her mom.
Happy birthday, it read. I have a crazy busy day ahead of me and will call you tonight. Do you have special plans?
No, as a matter of fact, she didn’t have plans, special or otherwise. Gran seemed to have forgotten that today was her birthday. No surprise there, especially considering that Gran’s pain level seemed to have increased overnight. And really, what was one more birthday in the scheme of things?
“Hold your head up, Sam.” Georgia removed the towel. “My, my, my. You do have such beautiful hair. You can’t get that color of red from a bottle, although plenty of people have tried.”
The compliment made her smile. As a kid, she’d hated being a redhead. She’d felt t
oo different from the other girls, especially from the cute blonds in her class. But somewhere along the way, she’d begun to like the way she looked, including her hair color. Nick had once told her it was her hair that had made him come over to talk to her at the seminar where they’d met. Perhaps that’s when she’d begun to truly like the color.
She felt that all too familiar sense of pleasure roll inside of her at the memory.
Georgia began to chatter about other people in Thunder Creek as she took a comb in one hand and scissors in the other. She didn’t stop talking until she set down the scissors and picked up the blow dryer. When she was done, she spun the chair toward the mirror once again. “Ta-da!”
It was, Samantha realized at once, the perfect haircut, and she told Georgia so. The woman beamed with pride.
“What do I owe you?” Samantha asked as the cape was removed.
Georgia waved dismissively. “Not a thing. Hap—” She broke off and turned away with a cough. “Hap . . . happens that I owe your grandmother a haircut and she told me to use it for you.”
“She didn’t say anything to me about that.”
Georgia waved again. “Maybe she forgot.”
“At least let me give you a tip.”
“Nope. Not a cent.” She looked at Samantha. “Now you go and have a great day. I mean, a great weekend. The wedding and all. Is that what I heard? That it’s a wedding? I love to go to weddings myself.”
Samantha frowned. “So do I,” she agreed slowly. Why did she feel as if she were being manipulated? She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something wasn’t quite right. “Thanks again for the great cut.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re surely welcome.”
Nick pulled his truck to the curb on the far side of the park from Ruth’s home. He was right on schedule, according to the time on his phone. Walking briskly, he followed the sidewalk to Ruth’s backyard gate. His knock on the kitchen door was answered by Adrian Vinton.
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