CHAPTER 5: REBUFFED

Somebody brought out her grandfather’s banjo, and in short order her

uncle Grady’s wife, Rosalee, had a fiddle, her brother Clay his

guitar. They wanted bluegrass, the music of the mountains. Those

high bright notes, the close harmony of strings plucked and sawed stirred

memories in her, lit a light inside her. A kind of birth.

Here were her beginnings, in the music and the mountains, in the green

and the gatherings.

Family, friends, neighbors swarmed the picnic tables. She watched her

cousins dancing on the lawn, her mother in her yellow heels swinging little

Jackson to the rhythm. And there, her father with Callie in his lap having

what appeared to be a very serious conversation while they ate potato salad

and barbecued ribs.

Her grandmother’s laugh carried over the music as Viola sat cross-legged

on the lawn, sipping champagne and grinning up at Gilly.

Her mother’s younger sister Wynonna kept a hawk eye on her youngest

girl, who seemed joined at the hip with a skinny guy in torn-up jeans her

aunt referred to as “that Hallister boy.”

As her cousin Lark was sixteen and as curvy as a mountain road, Shelby

figured the hawk eye was warranted.

People kept pushing food on her, so she ate because she felt her mother’s

own hawk eye on her. She drank champagne even though it made her think

of Richard.

And she sang because her grandfather asked her to. “Cotton-Eyed Joe”

and “Salty Dog,” “Lonesome Road Blues” and “Lost John.” The lyrics

came back to her like yesterday, and the simple fun of it, singing out in the

yard, letting the music rise toward the big sunstruck blue bowl of the sky,

soothed her battered heart.

She’d let this go, she thought, let all of it go for a man she’d never really

known and a life she knew had been false from the first to the last.

Wasn’t it a miracle that what was real and true was here waiting for her?

When she could get away, she slipped into the house, wandered upstairs.

Her heart just flooded when she stepped into Callie’s room.

Petal-pink walls and fussy white curtains framing the window that

looked out on the backyard, and the mountains beyond it. All the pretty

white furniture, and the bed with its pink-and-white canopy all set up.

They’d even arranged some of the dolls and toys and books on the white

bookcase, tucked some of the stuffed animals on the bed.

Maybe the room was half the size of the one in the big house, but it

looked just exactly right. She moved through the Jack and Jill bathroom—

sparkling, as her mother would have it no other way—and into what had

been her brother’s room. What was her room now.

Her old iron bed where she’d slept and dreamed through childhood faced

the window, just as it had in the room down the hall. As she’d liked it best

so she could wake to the mountains. A simple white duvet covered it now,

but Ada Mae being Ada Mae had set pillows in lace-edged shams against

the iron headboard, and more in shades of green and blue mounded with

them. A throw—blues and greens again—crocheted by her greatgrandmother, lay folded at the foot.

The walls were a warm smoky green, like the mountains. Two

watercolors—her cousin Jesslyn’s work—graced them. Soft dreamy colors,

a spring meadow, a greening forest at dawn. A vase of white tulips—her

favorite—sat on her old dresser, along with the picture in its silver frame of

her holding Callie at eight weeks.

They’d brought her suitcases up. She hadn’t asked—hadn’t had to. The

boxes, well, they were probably already stacked in the garage waiting for

her to figure out what to do with the things she’d felt obliged to keep from a

life that no longer seemed her own.

Overcome, she sat on the side of the bed. She could hear the music, the

voices through the window. That’s how she felt, just a step apart, behind the

glass, sitting in a room of her childhood, wondering what to do with what

she’d carried with her. All she had to do was open the window and she’d be

a part instead of apart.

But . . .

Right now, today, everyone said welcome home, and left all the rest

unsaid. But the questions murmuring under the welcome would come. Part

of what she carried with her were answers and still more questions.

How much should she tell, and how should she tell it?

What good would it do to tell anyone that her husband had been a liar,

and a cheat—and she feared he might’ve been worse. She feared down deep

in her bones he’d been a swindler and a thief. And yet whatever he’d been

—even if it turned out to be worse—he was still the father of her child.

Dead, he couldn’t defend or explain any of it.

And sitting here brooding about it wasn’t solving a thing. She was

wasting that welcome, that sunstruck day, the rising music. So she’d go

down again, she’d have some cake—though she already felt a little queasy.

Even as she ordered herself to get up, go down, she heard footsteps coming

down the hall.

She got to her feet, put an easy smile on her face.

Forrest, her brother, the only one who hadn’t been there to welcome her,

stepped into the doorway.

He didn’t have Clay’s height, skimmed just shy of six feet, and with a

more compact build. A brawler’s build, their granny claimed (with some

pride), and he’d done his share. He had his daddy’s dark hair, but his eyes,

like hers, were bold and blue. They held hers now. Coolly, she thought, and

full of the questions no one asked.

Yet.

“Hey.” She tried to boost up her smile. “Mama said you had to work

today.” As a deputy—her brother the cop—a job that seemed to suit him

like his skin.

“That’s right.”

He had sharp cheekbones, like their father, and his mother’s eyes. And

right now he sported a faint purple bruise on his jaw.

“Been fighting?”

He looked blank for a moment, then flicked his fingers over his jaw. “In

the line. Arlo Kattery—you’d remember him—got a little . . . rambunctious

last night down at Shady’s Bar. They’re looking for you outside. I figured

you’d be up here.”

“Back a few steps from where I started.”

He leaned on the jamb, doing his cool study of her face. “Looks like.”

“Damn it, Forrest. Damn it.” No one in the family could twist her up,

wring her out and smooth her down again like Forrest. “When are you

going to stop being mad at me? It’s been four years. Almost five. You can’t

stay mad at me forever.”

“I’m not mad at you. Was, but I’m more into the annoyed stage now.”

“When are you going to stop being annoyed with me?”

“Can’t say.”

“You want me to say I was wrong, that I made a terrible mistake, running

off with Richard like I did?”

He seemed to consider it. “That’d be a start.”

“Well, I can’t. I can’t say that because—” She pointed to the picture on

the dresser. “That makes Callie a mistake, and she’s not. She’s a gift and a

glory, and the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You ran off with an asshole, Shelby.”

Every muscle in her body went hot and tight. “I didn’t think he was an

asshole at the time or I wouldn’t have run off with him. What makes you so

righteous, Deputy Pomeroy?”

“Not righteous, just right. It’s an annoyance to me that my sister took off

with an asshole, and I’ve barely seen her or the niece who looks just like

her in years.”

“I came when I could. I brought Callie when I could. I did the best I

knew how. You want me to say Richard was an asshole? There I can oblige

you, as it turns out he was. I had the bad judgment to marry an asshole. Is

that better?”

“Some.” He kept his gaze level on hers. “Did he ever hit you?”

“No. God, no.” Stunned, she lifted her hands. “He never touched me that

way. I swear.”

“You didn’t come back for funerals, for births, for weddings. Clay’s, you

made Clay’s, but barely. How’d he keep you away?”

“It’s complicated, Forrest.”

“Simplify it.”

“He said no.” Temper began to simmer and burn inside her. “Is that

simple enough?”

He stirred himself to lift his shoulders, let them fall. “You didn’t always

take no for an answer so easy.”

“If you think it was easy, you’re wrong.”

“I need to know why you looked so tired, so thin, so beaten when you

came home for what seemed like ten minutes at Christmas.”

“Maybe because I’d come to realize I’d married an asshole, and one who

didn’t even like me very much.”

Temper hammered against guilt with guilt slapping against fatigue.

“Because I’d come to realize before I found myself a widow and my

child without a father that I didn’t love him, not even a little. And didn’t

like him much, either.”

Tears clogged her throat, threatening to burst through the dam she’d so

laboriously built to hold them back.

“But you didn’t come home?”

“No, I didn’t come home. Maybe I married an asshole because I was an

asshole myself. Maybe I couldn’t figure out how to pull myself and Callie

out of the muddy mess I’d made. Can you leave it at that for now? Can that

be enough for now? If I have to talk about all the rest of it now, I think I’ll

break into pieces.”

He walked over, sat beside her. “Maybe I’ll move annoyed down to

mildly irked.”

Tears swam and spilled; she couldn’t help it. “Mildly irked’s progress.”

She turned, pressed her face to the side of his shoulder. “I missed you so

much. Missed you like an arm or a leg or half my heart.”

“I know.” He draped an arm around her. “I missed you the same. It’s why

it’s taken close to five years to get down to mildly irked. I got questions.”

“You always have questions.”

“Like why you drove down from Philadelphia in a minivan that’s older

than Callie, and with a couple of suitcases and a bunch of packing boxes

and what looks like a big-ass flat-screen TV.”

“That’s for Daddy.”

“Huh. Show-off. I got more questions yet, but I’ll wait on them. I’m

hungry and I want a beer—I want a couple of beers. And if I don’t get you

down there shortly, Mama’s bound to come looking, then she’ll skin my ass

for making you cry.”

“I need some time to settle myself before the questions start. I need to

breathe for a while.”

“This is a good place for it. Come on, let’s get down there.”

“Okay.” She got up with him. “I’m going to be mildly irked with you for

being mildly irked with me.”

“That’s fair.”

“You can work some of that off getting Clay to help you bring in that TV,

and then help figure out where it needs to go.”

“It needs to go in my apartment, but I’ll just come over here and watch

it, and eat all Daddy’s food.”

“That’s fair, too,” she decided.

“I’m working on fair.” He kept an arm draped around her shoulders.

“You know Emma Kate’s back.”

“What? She is? But I thought she was up in Baltimore.”

“She was up until about six months ago. I guess more like seven now.

Her daddy had that accident last year, fell off Clyde Barrow’s roof, busted

himself up pretty good.”

“I know about that. I thought he was doing okay.”

“Well, she came back to take care of him—you know how her mama is.”

“Helpless as a baby duck with no feet.”

“That’s the truth. She stayed a couple months. He was in and out of the

hospital, in physical therapy, and her being a nurse, she could help more

than most. The guy she’s hooked up with, he came down off and on. Nice

guy. Shortening it up, the time off and budget cuts cost her her job at the

Baltimore hospital—or made it hard for her to keep on. She and her guy,

they moved on down as she got an offer to work at the clinic in the Ridge.”

“Daddy.”

“Yeah. He says she’s a damn good nurse. Matt—that’s her guy—he

moved on down with her, started a business with his partner. Griff’s out of

Baltimore, too. Construction-type business. They’re The Fix-It Guys.”

“I saw a truck with that name on it at Emma Kate’s house.”

“Matt and Griff are doing a new kitchen for Miz Bitsy. What I hear is she

changes her mind every five minutes on what she wants, so it’s taking a

while. Emma Kate and Matt got the apartment across from mine, and

Griff’s got the old Tripplehorn place out on Five Possum Road.”

“That place was falling down when we were ten,” she remembered.

And she’d loved it.

“He’s fixing it up. Likely take him the rest of his life, but he’s got it

going.”

“You’re stock full of news, Forrest.”

“That’s only because you haven’t been around to hear it. You should go

see Emma Kate.”

“I wish she’d come today.”

“She’s working, and she’s likely still in the annoyed stage where you’re

concerned. You might have to work some to bring that down.”

“It’s hard knowing how many people I hurt.”

“Then don’t do it again. If you decide to leave, say goodbye proper.”

She looked out the back door, saw Clay running around with his son on

his shoulders, and her grandmother pushing Callie on the swings.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already been gone too long.”

• • •

SHE SLEPT IN HER childhood bed on a new mattress, and though the night

was cool, kept the window open a crack so the night air could waft in. She

woke to a quiet rain, snuggled right in with a smile on her face as the sound

of it pattered so peacefully. She’d get up in just a minute, she told herself,

check on Callie, fix her baby some breakfast.

She’d deal with the unpacking, and all the other chores that needed

doing. In just five more minutes.

When she woke again, the rain had softened to a misty drizzle, a drip and

plop from leaves and gutters. Around it she heard the birds singing. She

couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken to the song of birds.

Rolling over, she glanced at the pretty glass clock on the bedside table,

then shot up like an arrow from a bow.

She scrambled up, dashed through the bath and into Callie’s room to find

the bed empty.

What kind of a mother was she, sleeping till after nine o’clock and not

having a clue where her daughter might be? Barefoot, a little panicked, she

raced downstairs. A fire burned in the living room hearth. Callie sat on the

floor, the old mutt Clancy curled beside her.

Stuffed animals sat in a line while Callie busily poked and prodded at the

pink elephant lying trunk up on a kitchen towel.

“He’s very sick, Gamma.”

“Oh, I can see that, baby.” Curled in a chair, sipping coffee, Ada Mae

smiled. “He’s looking peaked, no doubt about it. It’s lucky you’re such a

good doctor.”

“He’s going to be all better soon. But he has to be brave ’cause he needs

a shot.” Gently, she rolled him over, and used one of her fat crayons as a

syringe. “Now we kiss it, kiss the hurt. Kisses make hurts feel better.”

“Kisses make everything feel better. Morning, Shelby.”

“I’m so sorry, Mama. I overslept.”

“It’s barely nine on a rainy morning,” Ada Mae began as Callie leaped

up, ran to Shelby.

“We’re playing hospital, and all my animals are sick. I’m going to make

them better. Come help, Mama.”

“Your mama needs her breakfast.”

“Oh, I’m fine, I’ll just—”

“Breakfast is important, isn’t it, Callie?”

“Uh-huh. Gamma made me breakfast after Granddaddy had to go help

the sick person. I had slambled eggs and toast with jelly.”

“Scrambled eggs.” She lifted Callie for a kiss. “And you’re all dressed so

nice. What time did she get up?”

“About seven. And don’t start. Why would you deny me a couple hours

with my only granddaughter? Have we had fun, Callie Rose?”

“Lots and lots and lots of fun. I gave Clancy a dog cookie. He sat like a

good boy, and he shook my hand, too. And Granddaddy gave me a

piggyback ride all the way downstairs because I was quiet and didn’t wake

you up. He had to go help the sick people. So I’m helping the sick animals.”

“Why don’t you bring your animals in the kitchen while I fix your mama

some breakfast? She’s going to eat it all up like you did.”

“I don’t want you to have to feel you need to— Yes’m,” she finished,

warned by the narrowed stare.

“You can have a Coke since you never did learn to be civilized and drink

coffee. Callie, you can bring all the sick animals and fix them up right over

there. You’re going to have eggs with ham and cheese—get some protein in

there. I’ve got the whole day. I took off work until middle of the week. I’ve

got a connection with the boss.”

“How will Granny run the place without you?”

“Oh, she’ll manage. Get your Coke, sit down there while I get this going.

She’s fine, Shelby,” Ada Mae added in an undertone. “She’s busy and she’s

happy. And your daddy and I enjoyed her company this morning. Now, I

don’t have to ask how you slept. You look better already.”

“I slept ten hours.”

“New mattress.” Ada Mae chopped some ham. “And the rain. Makes you

want to sleep all day. Haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”

“Not especially.”

“Or eating much.”

“It’s been hard to work up an appetite.”

“A little pampering might make that easier.” She glanced over at Callie.

“I’m going to tell you you’ve done a good job with that girl. Of course,

some of it’s just disposition, but she’s well-mannered without being all prim

about it—something that just makes my back itch in a child—and she’s

happy.”

“She wakes up every day raring to go.”

“She wanted you first thing, but all I had to do was take her to your

bedroom door, show her you were there sleeping, and she was fine. That’s a

good thing, Shelby. A child who clings usually says more about the mother

clinging. And I expect it’s been hard not to cling, on both sides these past

months, when it’s just been the two of you.”

“I never saw any kids her age around the neighborhood up North. But

then it was so awful cold, and it seemed it was snowing every five minutes.

Still, I was going to look for a good preschool, just so she could socialize,

but . . . I just didn’t after—you know. I didn’t know if it was the right thing

for her after. And you and Daddy came for a while, and Granny came, and

that was good. It helped us both having y’all there.”

“I hope it did. We all worried we’d left you alone too soon.” Ada Mae

poured whisked eggs in the skillet over the ham chunks, grated cheese into

the mix. “I don’t know if I could’ve left if you hadn’t said you’d come

home as soon as you could.”

“I don’t know how I’d’ve got through if I hadn’t known I could come

home. Mama, that’s enough eggs for two people.”

“You’ll eat what you want, then one bite more.” Over her shoulder she

sent Shelby a narrow look. “They’re wrong when they say you can’t be too

thin, because you are. We’re going to plump your mama up, Callie, and put

roses in her cheeks.”

“Why?”

“’Cause she needs it.” Ada Mae plated the eggs, added a slice of toast,

passed it over the counter. “And one bite more.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now.” Ada Mae busied herself tidying the already tidy kitchen. “You’ve

got a hot stone massage booked at two o’clock at Mama’s.”

“I do?”

“Could do with a facial, too, but I’ll do that myself later in the week. A

woman drives clear down from Philadelphia hauling a toddler’s earned a

good massage. And Callie and I have plans this afternoon.”

“You do?”

“I’m taking her over to Suzannah’s. You remember my good friend

Suzannah Lee? She couldn’t come yesterday as she had her sister’s girl’s

wedding shower. That’s Scarlet? Scarlet Lee? You went to school with

Scarlet.”

“Sure. Scarlet’s engaged?”

“Got a May wedding planned, to a nice boy she met in college. They’re

getting married here as Scarlet’s people are here, then moving clear up to

Boston, where he’s got a job in advertising. Scarlet got her teaching degree

so that’s what she’ll be doing.”

“A teacher?” Shelby had to laugh. “As I remember, Scarlet hated school

like it was spinach soaked in arsenic.”

“Goes to show. What it goes to show, I can’t say, but it goes to show.

Anyway, I’m taking Callie over to Suzannah’s, show her off some, and

Suzannah’s getting her granddaughter, Chelsea—she’s three, like Callie—

that’s her son Robbie’s daughter who married Tracey Lynn Bowran. I don’t

think you’ve met Tracey. Her people are from Pigeon Forge. She’s a nice

girl, a potter. That’s one of her bowls there, with the lemons in it.”

Shelby glanced at the rich brown bowl with its bold blue and green

swirls. “It’s beautiful.”

“She’s got herself a kiln, works out of her house. They carry some of her

pieces in town, at The Artful Ridge, and up at the hotel gift shop, too. We’ll

be giving you and Tracey a day off as Suzannah and Chelsea and Callie and

me, we’re having us a playdate.”

“She’ll love that.”

“So will I. I’m going to be greedy with her for a while, so I expect you to

indulge me. I’m taking her over about eleven. They’ll get acquainted, then

we’ll have lunch. If the weather lets up, we’ll take them out awhile.”

“Callie usually naps about an hour in the afternoon.”

“Then they’ll have a nap. You can stop fretting about it, as I can see you

are.” With her chin jutted up, Ada Mae fisted a hand on her hip. “I managed

to raise you and two boys besides. I think I can handle a toddler.”

“I know you can. It’s just . . . she hasn’t been out of my sight in . . . I

can’t think how long. And fretting because she will be says more about

me.”

“You were always a bright girl. I wouldn’t have any other kind,” Ada

Mae added as she came around the island, laid her hands on Shelby’s

shoulders. “Sweet Jesus, girl, you’re nothing but knots. I booked you with

Vonnie—you remember Vonnie, she’s a cousin on your daddy’s side.”

Vaguely, Shelby thought, as cousins were legion in her family.

“Vonnie Gates,” Ada Mae continued. “Your daddy’s cousin Jed’s middle

girl. She’ll work these out of you.”

Shelby reached her hand back, laid it over her mother’s. “You don’t have

to feel you need to take care of me.”

“Is that what you’d say to your daughter, under these circumstances?”

Shelby sighed. “No. I’d tell her it was my job and my wish to take care.”

“Well then. One bite more,” Ada Mae murmured, kissing the top of

Shelby’s head.

Shelby ate one bite more.

“After today, you’ll clear your own dishes, but not today. What do you

want to do this morning?”

“Oh. I should unpack.”

“I didn’t say should,” Ada Mae reminded her as she cleared Shelby’s

plate. “I said want.”

“It’s both. I’ll feel more settled once I get things put away.”

“Callie and I’ll help you with that. When’s the rest of your stuff

coming?”

“I’ve got everything. I brought everything.”

“Everything.” Ada Mae stopped and stared. “Honey, they only took up a

couple of suitcases, well, and Callie’s things since you had those boxes

marked. Clay Junior didn’t stack more than a half dozen boxes, if that, in

the garage.”

“What was I going to do with all those things, Mama? Even when I find

a house—and I have to find a job first—I couldn’t use all those things. Did

you know there are companies that come in, look things over and buy

furniture all at once, right out of the house?”

She said it conversationally, lightly, as she rose, bent to pick up Callie,

who was dancing, holding her arms up. “The realtor helped me find them.

She was such a help to me with that sort of thing. I should send her flowers

when the sale’s all done, shouldn’t I?”

The question didn’t distract her mother as Shelby had hoped.

“All that furniture? Why, Shelby, there were seven bedrooms in that

house, and that big office, and I don’t even know all the other rooms. It’s as

close to a mansion as I’ve ever been in without paying for the tour. And so

new.” Shock and worry clear on her face, Ada Mae rubbed the heel of her

hand between her breasts. “Oh, I hope you got a good price for all that.”

“I worked with a very reputable company, I promise. They’ve been in

business over thirty years. I did a lot of research online on that kind of

thing. I swear, I could get a job as a researcher with all I’ve done with it, if I

didn’t think I’d want to shoot myself before the first week was done.

“We’re going to unpack, Callie. You gonna help before you and Gamma

go?”

“I’ll help! I like helping Mama.”

“Best helper ever. Let’s get started. Mama, do you know if Clay took up

the box that had Callie’s little hangers? I can’t use regular ones for her

things yet.”

“He took up everything that had her name on it. I’ll just go out and look,

be sure.”

“Thanks, Mama. Oh, I’ll go out, change the car seat over to your car.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” The edge in Ada Mae’s voice told Shelby her

mother was still reeling from the idea of selling all that furniture.

She didn’t know the half of it yet.

“Your daddy and I got the same one you use,” Ada Mae added. “It’s all

ready for her.”

“Mama.” Shelby stepped over and with her free arm pulled her mother

into a hug. “Callie, you have the best Gamma in the whole world.”

“My Gamma.”

And that distracted Ada Mae—enough, Callie thought as she knew her

mother would chew over the idea of selling all the furniture in a near-to-tenthousand-square-foot house in one fell swoop.

• • •

IT WAS ODD not having Callie underfoot or playing in her eye line, but she’d

been so excited about the playdate. And it was true enough she’d be done

with the unpacking and sorting in half the time without Callie “helping.”

By noon, with everything put away, the beds made, she wondered what

in the hell to do with herself.

She glanced at her laptop with some dislike, but made herself boot it up.

No notices from creditors—so that was good news. Nothing yet on the sale

of the house, but she wasn’t expecting it. She did read a short e-mail from

the consignment shop, letting her know they’d sold two of Richard’s leather

jackets, his cashmere topcoat and two of her cocktail dresses.

She replied with a thank-you, telling them yes, it was fine to wait until

the first of the month to send a check to the address she’d left with them.

With unpacking and business done, she showered, dressed. Still too early

to go in for the massage—and wouldn’t that be heaven? So she’d take a

walk. She could use a good walk.

The thin drizzle persisted, a steady trickle of wet out of a sky soft and

gray as smoke. But she liked walking in the rain. She pulled on a hoodie,

short, soft leather boots, and reached for her big bag. Her Callie bag. And

remembering she’d given it to her mother to take, pushed her wallet into the

back pocket of her jeans.

She felt so light, so unencumbered, she didn’t know what to do with her

hands, so slipped them into the pockets of the hoodie, found the little pack

of wet wipes she’d stuffed in there the last time she’d worn it—when she

hadn’t been so unencumbered.

She drew in a deep breath of the cool, damp air when she stepped

outside. Just stood breathing in with her fingers around Callie’s wet wipes

and the empty afternoon stretching ahead of her.

Everything was greening and sprouting and blooming with the misty rain

turning the green, the color, more vibrant. All those scents—wet grass, wet

earth, the tender sweetness of hyacinths dancing purple among the yellow

of daffodils—drifted to her as she walked the long, familiar road.

She could walk by the Lee house, just to check. It was getting on to nap

time, and Callie wasn’t a hundred percent on the potty training in her sleep.

About ninety-eight, but she’d be so embarrassed if she had an accident

because her grandmother didn’t think to take her in to pee before her nap.

She could just walk by, just a quick peek to . . .

“Stop it. Just stop. She’s fine. Everything’s just fine.”

She’d listen to her mother’s advice, take the day to do what she wanted.

A walk in the rain, taking her time, time enough to study the mountains in

their smoky blanket, to appreciate the spring flowers and the quiet.

She glanced over at Emma Kate’s house, noted the handyman truck in

the drive, and the bright red car behind it. She wondered how she’d

approach Emma Kate now that they were both back in the Ridge.

And her friend got out of the car.

She wore a hoodie, too, in a bold candy-pink Callie would have loved.

She’d changed her hair, Shelby thought as Emma Kate pulled two market

bags out of the backseat. She’d hacked off the long nut-brown braid Shelby

remembered, wore it all cute and shaggy, with bangs.

She started to call out, then could think of nothing to say and felt stupid

and awkward.

As she swung the door closed, Emma Kate spotted her. Her eyebrows

lifted under the warm brown fringe of bangs as she hauled one strap onto

her shoulder.

“Well, look who’s standing out in the rain like a wet cat.”

“It’s just a drizzle.”

“It’s still wet.” She stood hipshot a moment, bags hanging from her

shoulders, her wide mouth unsmiling, her deep brown eyes critical even

through the rain. “I heard you were back.”

“I heard the same about you. I hope your daddy’s doing okay.”

“He is.”

Feeling more stupid just standing there, Shelby walked up the short

driveway. “I like your hair.”

“Granny talked me into it. I’m sorry about your husband.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s your little girl?”

“With Mama. They have a playdate with Miz Suzannah’s

granddaughter.”

“Chelsea. She’s a pistol. You got a destination, Shelby, or are you just

out wandering in the wet?”

“I’m going into Viola’s, but I have all this time on my hands with Callie

off with Mama, so . . . I’m wandering first.”

“Then you’d better come inside, say hello to my mother or I won’t hear

the end of it. I’ve got to take her these groceries anyway.”

“That’d be nice. Here, let me take one.”

“I’ve got it.”

Rebuffed, as she was meant to feel, Shelby hunched her shoulders as

they walked to the door. “I . . . Forrest said you’re with someone, and living

in town.”

“I am. Matt Baker. We’ve been together about two years now. He’s at

Viola’s right now, fixing one of the sinks.”

“I thought this was his truck.”

“They have two. This is his partner’s. Griffin Lott. Mama’s redoing the

kitchen, and driving us all insane.”

Emma Kate opened the door, glanced back at Shelby. “You’re the talk of

Rendezvous Ridge, you know. That pretty Pomeroy girl who married rich,

was widowed young, come back home again. What will she do?” Emma

Kate smirked a little. “What will she do?” she said again, and walked inside

with her market bags.