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“There’s a shed in the backyard,” the child finally said.
Oh, yes, the old shed. Her father had used it for his woodworking shop, his tools mixed companionably with her mother’s gardening equipment.
“Thanks.” But Brooke was gone.
An odd child, but with Abby for a mother, who wouldn’t be? Kate had been surprised that a man as nice as Charles Granger had married Abby, had actually seemed eager to, but he had and this lonely child was the outcome. Where was he now?
Thirty minutes later, with the rooms tidy, Kate headed out back to the shed. Once in the backyard, she paused to remember the glory of her mother’s flower beds, imagining the heaps of orange and yellow roses and beds of tulips and daffodils of brightly colored blooms now replaced by thick grass. She wished she’d come back years earlier to see Mom attacking the weeds and fooling with her flowers while Dad built stuff in his workshop. An aching sense of loss rolled over her.
In honor of her mother, maybe she’d plant something while she was here. What else did she have to do except take care of Abby after the surgery? Gardening would allow her time away from Abby before they drove each other crazy.
But she wasn’t going to be here long enough. She’d be leaving in a month, getting on with her life, whatever that meant. She headed to the shed again and shoved the door open to see a jumble of furniture that seemed to have woven itself into an enormous granny knot.
A mattress for a single bed slumped close to the door. She gave a tremendous tug and pulled it out of the building while everything inside shifted with a crash. With a firm grip, she dragged the mattress across the lawn and up the steps. This was like towing a huge piece of overcooked spaghetti, but she finally steered it into the house and dropped it in the kitchen as she gasped for air.
She’d moved the thing this far by herself, and that counted as a big success in a year that hadn’t had many. With a few more shoves, she got it into the bedroom. Heady with her victory over the obstinate mattress, she grabbed the sheets and made the bed. That finished, she stepped over Coco and headed to the enormous closet in the front hall.
As a child, she’d taken very literally the scripture advice about where to pray. Back when she was a faithful Christian who really did believe, she’d shut herself in this closet to meditate. Even today the scent of wool and mothballs made her want to fall on her knees.
Shoving away the memory of her former piety and the disappointments that had scuttled her faith, she opened the door and flipped on the light. Yes, the card table and folding chairs were still stored behind the coat rod. She pushed the coats back, picked up a chair and slid the table back to her room. By that time, she realized it was three-thirty and she hadn’t eaten lunch yet. A grilled cheese sandwich sounded good and easy.
“What are you making?” Brooke asked.
Kate started when she heard the voice. The child was so quiet, it was like being stalked by a silent, sulky phantom. “A sandwich. Do you want one?”
She shook her head. “Mother doesn’t allow me to eat between meals.”
“Okay, but I haven’t had lunch yet.” Why did she feel the need to explain herself to a—“How old are you, Brooke?”
“I’m nine.”
Why did Kate feel the need to explain herself to a nine-year-old?
She’d never known exactly when Brooke was born. The baby had suddenly appeared during the dark, silent period after Mom’s and Dad’s deaths.
Abby hadn’t told Kate about the accident that claimed their lives nearly ten years earlier, either. The first Kate knew they’d died came a month after the fatal automobile crash when the lawyer wrote Kate to explain the terms of their will and her inheritance of half of the estate. Her sister had neither written nor called to tell Kate about their passing or the funeral. She’d never known how to react to such a breach of family…well, conduct by Abby. Fury was the main emotion that filled her until she could finally sort through her grief.
During a telephone conversation almost a year later, Abby mentioned her daughter and, typically, hung up without giving her sister information about her only niece. Kate wasn’t about to beg. Pride, another one of her flaws, and a lot of anger kept her from pressing for more details.
All in all, the relationship between the sisters was a case of sibling rivalry gone very bad and very mean. It wasn’t all Abby’s fault, as much as Kate wished she could blame everything on her sister’s difficult personality. No, growing up with Miss Mesa County as a sister wouldn’t have been easy for anyone. Kate could admit now she’d been a jerk at times. Giddy with her newfound power to attract men, she’d stolen Abby’s boyfriend. Kate hated to admit even now that she’d done anything so petty. Abby had never forgiven her. Nor, she was pretty sure, had the other young woman she’d taken a boyfriend from.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to share half with me?” Kate flopped the sandwich on a plate and turned off the burner.
When Brooke shook her head, Kate poured herself a soft drink and sat down at the table.
Other than playing havoc with personal relationships, her self-centeredness had served Kate pretty well until her world blew up and she didn’t have the ability, strength or, really, the desire to deal with it. On top of that, who would have guessed she had a streak of honesty she couldn’t ignore? Not her.
When she discovered integrity wasn’t a trait greatly respected in her chosen career, she’d slunk back to Silver Lake, to care for the sister who still hated her.
Life sure served up curve balls sometimes.
Looking up to notice Brooke had flitted away again, Kate finished her sandwich, awakened Coco and opened the back door. Even with her bad hip, the dog was able to get down from the porch herself. The problem was getting back up.
While the cocker sniffed around in the yard and woofed several times, Kate opened the trunk of her car and pulled out the last of her things: her laptop, a box of her favorite books and a flower-covered gift sack, which contained the odds and ends saved over the past twelve years. Everything else—her chrome furniture, the Prada suits and Manolo Blahnik shoes—was in storage in Miami. She grabbed her purse, the now out-of-style Kate Spade bag that had cost way too much. She wished she had that money back now. She should have purchased something serviceable and much less expensive at JCPenney as she had her jeans and athletic shoes.
She toted the load into her bedroom. Then she chose a book from the box, grabbed her soft drink and settled in one of the cushioned chairs on the porch. She started to read, leaning her head back against the pillow and relaxing into the lumpy softness.
“Guess that long drive tuckered you out.”
Her eyes fluttered open. Birdie Oglesby, school librarian and a pillar of the church, stood on the porch about ten feet from her.
“Hello, Mrs. Oglesby,” she said around a big yawn as she stood. “I guess I dozed off.”
“Must have needed that nap. I’m just going to put this in the kitchen.” The thin little woman with a helmet of tightly permed white hair strode ahead of Kate. She swept into the house like an invader with no resistance in front of her, but an invader with everyone’s best interests at heart.
Kate hurried after her. Once in the kitchen, Mrs. Oglesby put a casserole dish on the counter before turning back to Kate, a sincere smile warming her features. “I’m glad you’re back, girl. Real glad.”
For the first time in months, Kate felt warmth seep through her and smiled back. “Thank you, Mrs. Oglesby. I don’t think that’s unanimous.”
“Most of the town is happy you’re back and the others? Well, some people are always negative. Probably no one could win them over, not even you at your most charming.”
“But I wasn’t always the most pleasant person, Mrs. Oglesby.” If Kate had hoped for contradiction here, she didn’t get one.
“None of us always are,” the older woman said. “Now you’re back to help your sister in her time of trouble and that wipes out a multitude of shortcomings. Goodness knows, you won’t get a thank-you from Abby, but when a family member needed something, you stepped up to the plate.”
“Anybody would’ve…”
“No.” Mrs. Oglesby shook her head. “Your sister was supposed to have surgery months ago. No one here would help her, so she finally asked you, and you came.” She waved at the dish she’d brought in. “This is a real good chicken spaghetti recipe. The church will bring food for this first week while Abby’s recovering. We’ll be back next weekend with more.”
“Thank you,” Kate said as Mrs. Oglesby headed outside.
“We’d like to see you at church tomorrow,” the librarian said as the screen door slammed behind her.
Kate had forgotten the generosity of small-town churches. Within the next half hour, fifteen more people brought food—salads, vegetable dishes, casseroles of all kinds, meat, several pies and a cake. As Kate gazed at the number of dishes on the counter, she heard a soft footstep behind her.
“Brooke, I could really use your help putting all this away,” Kate said before her niece could disappear. “Why don’t you come in and help me.” When Brooke continued to rock back and forth in the hall, one foot in front of her, the other behind, Kate added, “I don’t even know where the aluminum foil is.”
With dragging steps, Brooke entered the kitchen, opened a drawer and waved her hand at the contents.
“Okay, you and I have to decide what we’ll eat right away and what to freeze.” Kate began to wrap a pie. “What would you like for dinner tonight?”
Brooke pointed at the brisket and several other dishes. “And Miss Betsy’s red velvet cake,” she said with a bit of animation in her voice. Obviously the cake had power if it could elicit a positive response from Brooke.
“What time will your mother get home?” Kate asked after they finished wrapping and freezing the rest of the food. The question was answered by the sound of the front door opening and banging shut. Footsteps echoed across the hall and Abby came into the kitchen. No smile crossed her sister’s still lovely features, no light brightened her dark eyes at the sight of her only sister, but her stiff posture showed that Abby carried a load of tension in her shoulders, neck and jaw.
Kate started to hug Abby because, after all, wasn’t that what a person did when she hadn’t seen her sister for twelve years? Evidently not. As soon as she touched her sister, Abby stiffened even more and stepped back.
“Hello, Kate,” she said as if they’d seen each other only a few hours earlier and that experience had not been particularly pleasant. She moved around Kate and put the mail on the counter. “There’s a library notice for you, Brooke. Please take care of it.” She handed the card to her daughter and sorted through the other envelopes.
“What’s that?” Abby stared as Coco ambled into the room.
“That’s my dog, Coco.”
When Coco gave a woof, Abby laughed, not a mirthful sound. “You always said you’d have a dog named Coco, but I thought it was going to be a teacup poodle.” Abby shook her head. “This poor old thing looks terrible.”
“We’ve been together a long time.”
“Looks like it.” Abby slipped out of her crepe-soled shoes, picked them up and turned toward the stairway. “I’m going to change. What’s for dinner, Brooke?”
“Brisket, Mother.”
Abby nodded and walked from the room.
“When do you want to eat?” Kate asked her sister’s departing back and scolded herself for allowing Abby’s negative attitude to manipulate her again.
“She likes to eat at six, when she’s had a chance to rest,” Brooke filled the silence.
“Okay, six it is.” She gave Brooke the warmest, happiest smile she could manage and was surprised to see a slight curve of the child’s mouth. The curve disappeared instantly, but it was a start.
The three joined around the table Kate and Abby’s father had built years earlier. “What’s your job now?” she asked Abby after they’d passed the dishes and filled their plates.
“Assistant office manager at the bank.” Abby cut her meat with her left hand to take the stress off her right side. “Not an easy job. The tellers are young and flighty. I have to put my foot down to get them to work.”
“How’s your shoulder?” Kate tried another topic.
“I’m having surgery. Rotator cuff. That should tell you.” She moved the joint a little and grimaced. “I wouldn’t have asked you if things had been fine or if there’d been anyone else.”
“I know. I’m glad I can be here. How did you hurt it?”
“I fell.” Abby took a few more bites of dinner. “I have to be at the hospital at seven Monday morning.”
“All right.” They ate in silence until Kate asked her niece, “Brooke, do you have plans for the summer?”
Brooke blinked as if surprised to be included in the conversation. “Swimming and reading. And I’m going to Waco to visit my father in August.”
Having all her efforts at conversation die, Kate gave up. They finished dinner in a thick, uncomfortable silence.
As if they had practiced this routine often, Abby stood and wordlessly left the kitchen and Brooke cleared the table. Before the child could start loading the dishwasher, Coco danced as much as her arthritic hips allowed toward her.
“What’s wrong with your dog?” Brooke asked.
“She likes to help do the dishes.”
“She does?” A frown wrinkled Brooke’s forehead. “How can a dog help?”
“Cleaning up. She hopes a scrap will fall or perhaps someone will put a plate on the floor for her to lick.”
Brooke glanced at her aunt. “You actually give her the plate to lick? Mother would kill me if I did that.”
“You don’t have to, Brooke. That’s just what she hopes.” Kate picked up a wet sponge and pretended all her attention was on wiping the table, but she could see Brooke select a piece of fat from her plate and toss it to Coco. The dog caught it and smiled. Brooke smiled, really smiled, back at Coco before she became all business and loaded the dishwasher.
“Thanks for cleaning up,” Kate said a few minutes later as she dried her hands.
Brooke studied her as if Kate spoke an unknown language. “You’re welcome.”
“Where are you sleeping?” Abby marched into the kitchen, anger filling her voice. “Why didn’t you take the room Brooke got ready for you?”
“Which one was that?” Kate glanced at Brooke. A look of pure panic crossed the child’s face. Quickly Kate added, “I decided to sleep downstairs because it would be easier for Coco to get around.”
Abby glared at the cocker. “You chose your bedroom based on where your dog would be comfortable?” Hands on her hips, she shook her head. “If that don’t beat all.”
Abby turned and strode to the small apartment, threw the door open and surveyed the inside. “There’s no bed in here, just a mattress on the floor.” She whirled to glower at Kate. “I’m not going to have this town say I made my own sister sleep on the floor. I’ll call someone to get a bed frame in here.”
As Abby stomped away, Kate called after her again, “That was my decision, Abby. You aren’t making me sleep on…” She stopped as it became obvious her sister didn’t want to hear the words.
“Thank you,” Brooke whispered.
Kate leaned against the counter to study her niece. “For what?”
“For not telling her I didn’t show you that room.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Brooke fiddled with her hair. “She didn’t want you here. Mother…well, Mother always gets upset whenever someone talks about you. I don’t like it when she’s upset.”
“No, I imagine…” Kate stopped her words. She shouldn’t agree with Brooke about how difficult Abby could be. “I imagine she loves you very much.”
Brooke stared at her as if Kate had come from an alien world. “Oh, sure.” She folded the dishcloth and hung it from the sink divider.
She watched her niece, her only niece and one of her two living relatives, leave the room. Was she Abby all over again?
Kate sighed. Why did she care? She wasn’t going to be here long enough to connect with Brooke. She couldn’t change anything in a few weeks, but the girl’s unhappiness pulled at Kate’s heart.
Only a few minutes later, the front doorbell rang. She glanced down. Her shorts had smudges from her earlier cleaning. She’d put on a fresh shirt for dinner, but it had a spot of barbecue sauce on the front from wrapping the brisket. She was barefoot, wore no makeup and guessed her hair stood up in spikes. Why did she care? No one was coming to see her, but because it might be someone with food, she’d better hurry. As she moved toward the entry, Brooke opened the door.
“Hey, Brooke,” a man said. “Your mother called. Said she had some furniture she needed moved.”
At the sound of that voice, Kate walked backward into the kitchen, almost tripping over Coco. She considered hiding in her room even though she knew the idea was cowardly. Besides, it wouldn’t do a bit of good. She suspected that was exactly where the furniture would be going.
In a panic, she glanced around again, searching for a way, any way, to escape.
The voice belonged to Rob Chambers. The one person in Silver Lake she’d hoped never to see again.
Chapter Two
Because the idea of escape seemed cowardly, Kate lifted her head and walked across the wide entry hall, her bare feet pattering on the hardwood floors.
Rob hadn’t changed much. His hair was still dark brown with a wave. Years ago, he’d worn a buzz so he didn’t have to mess with it. Now it was longer and brushed back in a great haircut.
