Buffalo Valley by Debbie Macomber Page A

hicks.”
    â€œTo be fair,” Lindsay said, glancing between the other two women, “we don’t know what they think of us—not that we have any interest in their opinion. But we are fully capable of mounting a campaign to keep them out.”
    â€œI was thinking the same thing,” Carrie said.
    â€œOrganization is the key,” Leta put in.
    â€œYou’ll be at the Cookie Exchange tonight, won’t you?” Lindsay asked Carrie. “I know Leta will.” She smiled at her mother-in-law. “I thought that would be the best time to get all the women together. We can talk then.”
    â€œGood idea. Mom and I will be there for sure.” The women’s group at the church held the cookie exchange every Christmas. Joyce Dawson, the pastor’s wife, had been instrumental in organizing the event, andevery woman in town and the surrounding community could be counted on to attend.
    â€œValue-X won’t know what hit them,” Leta said happily.
    The bell chimed a second time, and Vaughn entered the store. For a moment, he seemed startled to see the three women, but then his gaze sought out Carrie’s. “Should I come back later?”
    â€œNot at all,” Leta said. “There’s no need for Carrie to work today. I’ve got everything covered.”
    Carrie was grateful for what her friends were trying to do, but she did have responsibilities. Leta seemed to read her thoughts. “If any prescriptions get phoned in, I’ll find you,” she promised. “I’ll leave a message with your mom.”
    â€œEver hear the expression about not looking a gift horse in the mouth?” Lindsay whispered.
    â€œWell, it appears I’m not wanted or needed around here,” Carrie said before Leta and Hassie’s intentions became any plainer than they already were. She walked past Lindsay, who winked at her. After collecting her coat and purse, Carrie left with Vaughn.
    â€œWhere would you like to go?” he asked as soon as they were outside.
    She hadn’t had lunch yet and suspected Vaughn hadn’t, either. “I know we had Italian yesterday, but I love pizza.”
    â€œMe, too.”
    â€œBuffalo Valley has some of the best homemade pizza you’ll ever eat.”
    He lifted his eyebrows. “Sounds good to me.”
    They started down the street, their pace relaxed. Snow had just begun to fall, drifting earthward in large, soft flakes. Christmas-card snow, Carrie thought. As they walked, she told him the story about Rachel’s pizza, and how it had led to her restaurant and subsequent success.
    â€œYou mean she makes the sauce herself?”
    Carrie nodded. “I worked for Rachel one summer and I watched her make a batch. She starts with fresh tomatoes straight from her garden. It’s amazingly good. I think she could sell her recipe, but of course, she doesn’t want to.”
    A pickup approached and slowed as it came alongside Vaughn and Carrie. Glancing over her shoulder, Carrie saw her two older brothers, Tom and Pete. She tried to ignore them, but that was impossible.
    â€œHey, Carrie,” Tom called, leaning his elbow out the open passenger window.
    She acknowledged his greeting with a short wave, hoping he’d simply move on. Not that this was likely. Apparently Chuck and Ken had mentioned Vaughn, and now they, too, were looking for an introduction.
    â€œDon’t you want us to meet your friend?”
    â€œNot right now,” she called back, and sent Vaughn an apologetic glance. Because she was the only girl, all four of her brothers were protective of her, even more so after her divorce.
    â€œYou ashamed of your family?” This came from Pete, who was driving.
    Carrie sighed, praying that her brothers wouldn’t say or do anything to further embarrass her. Pete parked the truck and both men climbed out, slamming their doors extra hard. Both wore thick winter coats and wool caps