“What if it backfires and makes things worse?”
Bridget resumed packing snacks. “Your decision. But I happen to think this is one of the many ways you and Owen are a good match. He provides the voice of reason when you go off the rails.”
Off the rails. Not a flattering description of herself. She really did need to work on more self-control.
“I’ll post later today,” she muttered. When her head was clearer.
Bridget sat down beside her. “You feeling okay after everything, because, frankly, you look terrible.”
“It’s not like we had anything to begin with.” Other than a few, no, several, wonderful kisses and a potential chance for happiness that she’d tossed away.
Her attempt to infuse lightness into her voice didn’t fly, and Bridget called her on it.
“You don’t have to pretend with me. Of course you’re hurting. You cared for him. A lot from what I saw.”
Molly still did and would for a long time to come.
“Don’t write the two of you off yet,” Bridget said. “You’ll be seeing him again. He’s Homer’s only relative in Arizona. Grandma’s sure to invite him for holiday dinners. Him and the kids.”
Molly hadn’t thought of that and didn’t know whether to be glad or dismayed.
“Change is inevitable. Now might not have been the best time for the two of you, but who knows how different things will be in six months or a year?”
But would Owen’s feelings for Molly remain the same? Neither of them had left the door open to start fresh.
“We need to hurry.” Bridget stood and pulled Molly to her feet. “If we’re going to take our presents over to Owen’s kids before their mom arrives.”
Molly wasn’t sure she was up to seeing Owen, but nothing on Earth would stop her from saying goodbye to the kids.
Should she take the present she’d purchased for Owen, an I-Hart-Catering gift certificate? He’d really liked their food. Molly would decide while she dressed and applied a bit of makeup, too.
“Can I have a few minutes?”
“Sure. Meet you down here in fifteen.”
Silly as it was, Molly used every one of those minutes plus three more to make herself presentable. Well, she had looked terrible as Bridget so kindly mentioned.
The pair of them cut through the clubhouse courtyard and trudged along the road. Molly grappled with the presents while Bridget carried an eco-friendly grocery bag filled with her treats, paper cups and a jug of lemonade. Naturally, she’d packed enough for three families.
Even before they reached the cabin door, they heard Marisa crying from inside. Owen could also be heard appealing to her, his voice not loud but firm.
Molly and Bridget paused on the stoop, trading looks.
“Should we leave?” Molly asked in a low voice.
“If we do, we might miss them.”
Gritting her teeth, Molly raised her hand and knocked. Perhaps the presents would calm whatever storm was raging in the cabin.
Owen answered the door, Willa in his arms and strain visible on his face. “Hi.”
“Mawee!” Willa held out her arms.
Molly freed a hand to clasp Willa’s. “We can come back,” she told Owen.
He took in the presents she held. “No, it’s okay. Come on in.”
Cody and Marisa stood in the middle of the living room. Suitcases, bags and boxes were stacked in a small mountain near the door. Marisa held Pinkie Pie in a death grip, the poor kitten yowling and squirming. The harder it fought, the louder Marisa cried.
“Is everything okay?” Molly asked, momentarily forgetting about her and Owen’s disagreement.
He visibly reined in his temper. “Marisa wants to take Pinkie Pie with them on their trip. Her mother and I have both vetoed the idea. She decided to sneak the kitten out inside her coat.”
“Pinkie Pie’s going home with you, right?” Molly asked.
“That’s not making a difference with Marisa.”
“We have snacks,” Bridget announced brightly and held up the bag. “And presents.”
Cody bounded over. “I want presents.”
Molly set the load she’d been carrying onto the couch. Except for Owen’s gift—that she kept in her coat pocket.
“Don’t open them yet,” Owen warned and lowered Willa to the floor. “Wait for your sisters.”
Cody pouted for two seconds. After that, he became engrossed with reading the name tags. “This one’s for me!” he shouted and grabbed a box to shake it.
Marisa didn’t move. She continued to stare down at the kitten in her hands.
Molly sympathized with the little girl. Without thinking, she sunk to her knees in front of her. “Kitties don’t like riding in cars. It scares them. Plus, they can get sick and throw up.”
Marisa squeezed Pinkie Pie tighter, and the poor kitten’s eyes bulged with fright or anger or both. “Who will take care of her?”
“Your daddy. He promised he would and he’s very good at keeping his promises.”
The little girl’s lower lip trembled and her slight body shuddered.
“Tell you what. I’ll make sure he sends a picture of Pinkie Pie every day to your mom’s phone so you can see for yourself that she’s fine and misses you.”
Marisa appeared to consider this, and her grip on the kitten marginally lessened.
Molly quickly reached in and took hold of the kitten. “I’ll put her in the bedroom, okay? She’ll be safe there.”
Marisa reluctantly let go, and Molly stood.
Owen sent her a grateful look that instantly warmed to something more. She didn’t want to consider what that something more was and glanced away. With her feelings residing close to the surface, he was sure to read them.
When Molly returned from the bedroom it was to find that Bridget and Cody had distributed the presents. For the next fifteen minutes, everyone’s troubles disappeared while gifts were opened. Molly was glad she’d held on to Owen’s gift certificate, for the only presents she and Bridget received were from the children. Matching oven mitts for Bridget and a desk caddy for Molly.
They were cleaning up the torn wrapping paper and discarded ribbon when a minivan pulled up in front of the cabin.
“It’s your mom!” Owen announced with obvious relief. “She’s here.”
The children went wild with excitement, clamoring to be the one to open the door.
“Let’s go,” Molly whispered to Bridget. Jeanne might not want others horning in on her reunion.
“Don’t go yet,” Owen said when they started for the door.
Did he want them there? Molly hadn’t considered that this moment might be difficult for him. Jeanne was arriving with her boyfriend. It had been Willa’s attachment to the man that had prompted Owen to quit his job and come to Sweetheart Ranch.
The door flew open. Molly wasn’t sure which child had won the battle.
“Mommy, Mommy!”
The trio immediately mobbed Jeanne. She bent and drew them into one big hug. “There you are. I missed you so much.”
“Santa came last night,” Cody announced. “He left us presents.”
“There are presents for you at Grandma and Grandpa’s, too.”
“Do you want to see Pinkie Pie?” Marisa asked.
“Of course. Before we leave.”
It was difficult to hear above the children’s raised voices. Eventually Molly realized Owen was making introductions all around.
“Nice to meet you.” Molly was suddenly shaking Jeanne’s hand. It wasn’t a horrible experience. Well, Owen’s marriage had ended long ago, and Jeanne had undeniably moved on.
Her boyfriend remained behind, smiling stiffly and nodding. Willa didn’t go to him. She didn’t appear to notice him in the least. Cody and Marisa had responded when he initially
greeted them but not a word since. All they talked about was their dad and the fun they’d had at the ranch.
Molly thought she noticed the strain on Owen’s face diminishing.
“I love the ranch,” Jeanne said. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Molly smiled. “We love it, too.”
They spent a few more minutes chatting before Molly and Bridget made their excuses.
“We’ll walk you out,” Owen said. “We have to load the car anyway.” He issued instructions to the children which were promptly followed.
“My, my, Owen,” Jeanne commented as they walked out. “I’ve never seen the kids so cooperative. Maybe I should let you take them for a month more often.”
“I hope you will.”
Both Molly and Bridget embraced the children. Willa began to cry when Molly kissed her forehead and told her, “I’ll see you soon.”
Marisa buried her face in Molly’s side. Cody hugged her waist.
Molly and Bridget left then, silently agreeing that the final goodbyes should be shared exclusively between Owen and his children.
It was only when they entered the kitchen that Molly realized she had tears in her eyes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
OWEN PLACED THE empty suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. His other suitcase sat on the floor. Two days from now, on January 1, he would officiate the vow renewal ceremony for his uncle Homer and Emily. The next morning, he’d depart Sweetheart Ranch for his house in the northeast valley. A house that would now feel cold and empty after living in close quarters with his three active offspring. A house he’d bought out of necessity after he and Jeanne divorced and had no emotional attachment to whatsoever.
There wasn’t much for him to pack. But with no wedding scheduled today and five tomorrow—New Year’s Eve was another popular day for tying the knot—he’d decided to get a head start on the task. Besides, if he waited until the last minute, he might have a hard time. A big part of him didn’t want to leave, that part being his whole heart.
This was not how he’d envisioned spending his last days at the ranch. He and Molly should be looking forward to their first date, not being polite but reserved with each other.
She’d come to his rescue Christmas morning. She and Bridget. The presents they’d brought for the kids helped distract them from the emotional goodbye with Owen and Pinkie Pie.
At a loss for what to say, he’d kept his mouth shut. Molly was right, Owen hadn’t wanted the job at Craft-Right and should have been honest with her. If he had, things might have gone very differently. Then they could have had a serious discussion about him being at a career crossroads. God, he hated the idea. It left him on shaky ground when Owen had always been so sure of himself and what he wanted in life.
A small orange blur appeared from nowhere and leaped onto the bed. Pinkie Pie. The kitten stopped in her tracks, hissed at the empty suitcase, and then proceeded to hop into it. Sniffing a strap, she batted at it before lying down and claiming this new territory as hers.
“I suppose I need to buy you a travel crate.” Owen scratched the cat’s head, and she instantly started purring. “Maybe Fred sells them at the feed store.”
The kitten was cute, and Owen had become quite fond of her over the past five days since his kids left.
“Misery makes strange bedfellows,” he said. A scary thought occurred to him. “Please, don’t tell me I’m turning into my mother, the cat lady.”
He opened the bottom dresser drawer and examined its sparse contents. A check of the laundry basket he’d been using as a clothes hamper revealed most everything he’d brought with him was dirty. He sorted lights from darks while Pinkie Pie watched. He’d throw a load into the washing machine on his next trip outside.
Finishing with that, he grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the kitten dozing in the suitcase, texting it to Jeanne for Marisa to see. His daughter was amassing quite a collection of pictures. Owen had been diligent about keeping his word.
The top dresser drawer didn’t yield much more than the bottom one. Owen packed a belt and socks and kerchiefs he wouldn’t need before leaving. Beneath an undershirt, he found the package containing the necklace he’d bought at the church gift sale to give Molly at Christmas. That hadn’t turned out as planned, either.
Instead of finding an opportunity to give her the necklace, he’d avoided her. Owen was having enough trouble keeping himself together. Baring his soul was more than he could handle right now.
He should have just stuck the package in the suitcase and not opened it, for the air left his lungs upon seeing the interlocking hearts. All the emotions he’d worked to keep at bay in the aftermath of his and Molly’s falling-out rose up to choke him.
He sat on the bed next to the suitcase. “Not my best moment, Pinkie Pie.”
The kitten studied him through half-closed eyes, purring loudly. At least one of them was content.
“Molly’s a catch. Women like her don’t come around very often. And what did I do? Made one mistake after the other with her from the moment I arrived. Nicely done.”
He’d been so focused on his own needs and goals, he’d ignored hers. The same thing he’d done to Jeanne and to his kids, Owen realized.
“You’d think I would’ve learned the first time.”
Instead of putting the necklace back into the box, he slipped it into his pocket. Something told him that he’d be carrying it with him for a while.
At least he’d accomplished one thing. His relationship with his kids was the best it had ever been. He now talked to them every day, either on the phone or by video chat. Willa not as much as Cody and Marisa. His youngest didn’t understand video chats and mostly pointed at the phone’s screen saying, “Look, Daddy, look.”
The kids were coming to stay with him the weekend after he left Sweetheart Ranch and alternate weekends after that, including when his parents visited. Owen would attend every Saturday soccer game, every Tap for Tots dance recital, every birthday party, every Easter egg hunt, along with kindergarten and preschool registration, and swim lessons in the summer.
He should be happy, only the opposite was true. He missed Molly, her A-type personality having grown on him. He still didn’t think he’d patronized her. What he had done was give too little importance to her concerns because he himself didn’t consider them a big deal. That was wrong and not what friends did for each other. Certainly not what a boyfriend did.
The negative comments on the ranch’s social media page that had upset Molly so much had yet to amount to anything significant. Owen took no pleasure in being right and was simply glad the ranch hadn’t been negatively affected. The phone continued to ring, and January was shaping up to be a busy month.
Owen wished he could say the same for himself. The business world had come to a standstill this week between Christmas and New Year’s. There was nothing decent posted on the various employment websites he’d registered with, and his headhunter had taken the entire week off.
Hopefully, the job market would improve soon. Owen had enough money remaining from his Waverly severance package to last a good two months. After that, he’d be forced to dip into his investment account. And while he might be able to petition the court for a reduction in his child support payments, he refused to go that route. His kids wouldn’t suffer for his choices.
Owen pushed to his feet, feeling the walls closing in on him. “Pinkie Pie, I’m out of here. You finish the packing, okay?”
Startled by his sudden movement, the kitten leaped to the floor and scurried out the bedroom door, slipping on the smooth hardwood floor in the hall as her paws scrambled for traction.
“You just can’t get good help these days.”
He carried the laundry basket with him to the storage room beside the clubhouse where the guest washer and dryer were located. Next, he strode to his truck and climbed
in. A trip to town for a pet crate was merely an excuse for a change of scenery.
On the drive to the feed store, he decided to purchase some hay and oats as well. Molly had told Owen yesterday that Big Jim’s wife was doing better, thanks to rest and medications. He was willing to return to work until Molly found a permanent replacement, after which he’d retire altogether so that he and his wife could travel and remodel their house. Owen wanted to lighten the older man’s load by leaving the stables clean and in good order.
He parked behind the building near the rear entrance and lowered the tailgate on his truck in preparation of loading hay bales and sacks of grain. He entered through the heavy metal door, hailing Fred who was in his customary place behind the counter.
The proprietor had yet to take down his holiday decorations. The entire town was still celebrating from what Owen had seen on the drive here. Everyone but Owen. He hadn’t felt the Christmas spirit since his argument with Molly.
He and Fred completed the sale with Fred putting the bill on the ranch’s account, with the exception of the pet crate, which Owen paid for. Rabbit pen, actually. Fred didn’t carry pet travel crates, but Owen figured the rabbit pen would suffice for Pinkie Pie’s short journey.
“Are you coming to the reception?” Owen asked while Fred accompanied him to the back area where livestock feed was stored.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Many of the town’s residents had been invited. Between Uncle Homer’s years preaching at the church and Emily having owned the local inn, they had a lot of friends in Mustang Valley.
“Great.” Owen helped lift sacks of grain onto the handcart and wheeled it outside to his truck. “Glad I’ll get to see you one last time before I leave town and you move to Minnesota.”
“The wife’s starting to doubt that’ll ever happen.” Fred paused to shrug and wipe his damp brow. “I’ve had the store for sale these past three months and not a single serious offer.”
“Hard to believe.”
“I agree. I have a ready-made clientele. Mustang Valley is a horse and cattle town and nearly everyone shops here. No competition, either. The next closest feed store is in Rio Verde, darn near twenty miles away.”
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