stores of a hundred and fifty years
earlier. Grace had noticed some nice denim skirts and checkered shirts when
she’d bought her boots. As she walked inside, she was assailed by the scent of
leather and something like old tobacco smoke. She made her way to ladies’
apparel and hunted through the skirts, settling on one that reached her knees
and another that was considerably shorter. She picked out some scoop-neck
T-shirts, since Jack didn’t seem able to keep his eyes off her cleavage when she
wore them, and for modesty at the O’Malley dinner table, Grace also chose
several checked cotton shirts. After trying the clothing on, she paid for her
goods and left the store, feeling very pleased with herself.
She bumped into Becky and a young teenage boy on their way into
Perkins. “Grace!” Becky said. “What are you looking
so smug about?”
Grace held up the packages and stopped herself from blurting,
“Step one accomplished in the seduction of Jack O’Malley,” and said instead,
“Successful shopping trip for an outfit for tomorrow night’s dinner.” She
glanced at the boy and held out her hand. “Hi, you must be Becky’s son. I’m
Grace.”
The boy grinned, his freckles nearly joining up as he shook
Grace’s hand. “Nick. Mom’s making me get clothes here. She thinks I’ve grown out
of everything. I’d rather shop in Denver.” He rolled his eyes.
Laughing, Grace said, “When I was a kid, I used to feel exactly
the same way about shopping here in town. Now, I’m more than happy with what I
found.”
“What did you get?” Becky asked, trying to peek into the
bags.
“You’ll see tomorrow,” Grace said, holding them away from her.
“Meanwhile, I need a manicure. I have yet to meet your sisters-in-law and I
don’t want them thinking I’m a slob.”
“Trust me, they won’t. Each of us had to learn that life in the
mountains—especially life with the O’Malleys—isn’t about appearances, but about
heart. And they’ve all got plenty of that.”
“Still...I’d feel better if my hands looked a little
nicer.”
Becky smiled and said, “Then go and see Patty and tell her I
sent you. Her salon is above the craft store. Anyway, I need to buy some new
jeans for this son of mine or he’ll burst out of these standing here on the
doorstep. I can’t believe how fast he’s growing!”
Being a pediatrician, Grace had heard that from mothers so many
times. “Just be happy he’s growing and healthy, Becky. Trust me, he’ll slow down
one day, although don’t expect that until he’s almost out of his teens.”
“He’s just turned thirteen!” Becky protested. “Maybe they sell
jeans I can get taken down.” she muttered under her breath.
“Mom!”
“Oh, all right,” Becky said, “I was only trying to economize.
See you tomorrow, Grace, if not before.” She waved as she stepped through the
door Nick was holding open for her.
Smiling, Grace wandered down Main Street toward the manicurist
Becky had recommended. She doubted she’d get an appointment this late in the
day, but she could always sneak out tomorrow.
“Gracie Saunders!”
Grace spun around to see who’d called her, and her heart sank.
Letitia Malone. She’d know that supercilious look anywhere. Lettie had been one
of the girls who’d teased Grace about her hand-me-down clothes in high school.
Grace had hoped she’d run into Letitia the day she’d arrived, driving a European
sports car and wearing her Christian Louboutin pumps. Instead, here she was,
dressed in dusty jeans and steel-toed boots.
“Letitia. You’re still living here?” she said in a voice meant
to convey that Letitia hadn’t done much with her life if she still lived in the
same town she grew up in.
“Yeah, I’m married with five kids. You?”
“Oh, I live in Boston now. I’m a pediatrician.”
Letitia smirked. “You’re a foot doctor?”
It took Grace a moment to realize what Lettie was talking
about. “No. A pediatrician looks after
earlier. Grace had noticed some nice denim skirts and checkered shirts when
she’d bought her boots. As she walked inside, she was assailed by the scent of
leather and something like old tobacco smoke. She made her way to ladies’
apparel and hunted through the skirts, settling on one that reached her knees
and another that was considerably shorter. She picked out some scoop-neck
T-shirts, since Jack didn’t seem able to keep his eyes off her cleavage when she
wore them, and for modesty at the O’Malley dinner table, Grace also chose
several checked cotton shirts. After trying the clothing on, she paid for her
goods and left the store, feeling very pleased with herself.
She bumped into Becky and a young teenage boy on their way into
Perkins. “Grace!” Becky said. “What are you looking
so smug about?”
Grace held up the packages and stopped herself from blurting,
“Step one accomplished in the seduction of Jack O’Malley,” and said instead,
“Successful shopping trip for an outfit for tomorrow night’s dinner.” She
glanced at the boy and held out her hand. “Hi, you must be Becky’s son. I’m
Grace.”
The boy grinned, his freckles nearly joining up as he shook
Grace’s hand. “Nick. Mom’s making me get clothes here. She thinks I’ve grown out
of everything. I’d rather shop in Denver.” He rolled his eyes.
Laughing, Grace said, “When I was a kid, I used to feel exactly
the same way about shopping here in town. Now, I’m more than happy with what I
found.”
“What did you get?” Becky asked, trying to peek into the
bags.
“You’ll see tomorrow,” Grace said, holding them away from her.
“Meanwhile, I need a manicure. I have yet to meet your sisters-in-law and I
don’t want them thinking I’m a slob.”
“Trust me, they won’t. Each of us had to learn that life in the
mountains—especially life with the O’Malleys—isn’t about appearances, but about
heart. And they’ve all got plenty of that.”
“Still...I’d feel better if my hands looked a little
nicer.”
Becky smiled and said, “Then go and see Patty and tell her I
sent you. Her salon is above the craft store. Anyway, I need to buy some new
jeans for this son of mine or he’ll burst out of these standing here on the
doorstep. I can’t believe how fast he’s growing!”
Being a pediatrician, Grace had heard that from mothers so many
times. “Just be happy he’s growing and healthy, Becky. Trust me, he’ll slow down
one day, although don’t expect that until he’s almost out of his teens.”
“He’s just turned thirteen!” Becky protested. “Maybe they sell
jeans I can get taken down.” she muttered under her breath.
“Mom!”
“Oh, all right,” Becky said, “I was only trying to economize.
See you tomorrow, Grace, if not before.” She waved as she stepped through the
door Nick was holding open for her.
Smiling, Grace wandered down Main Street toward the manicurist
Becky had recommended. She doubted she’d get an appointment this late in the
day, but she could always sneak out tomorrow.
“Gracie Saunders!”
Grace spun around to see who’d called her, and her heart sank.
Letitia Malone. She’d know that supercilious look anywhere. Lettie had been one
of the girls who’d teased Grace about her hand-me-down clothes in high school.
Grace had hoped she’d run into Letitia the day she’d arrived, driving a European
sports car and wearing her Christian Louboutin pumps. Instead, here she was,
dressed in dusty jeans and steel-toed boots.
“Letitia. You’re still living here?” she said in a voice meant
to convey that Letitia hadn’t done much with her life if she still lived in the
same town she grew up in.
“Yeah, I’m married with five kids. You?”
“Oh, I live in Boston now. I’m a pediatrician.”
Letitia smirked. “You’re a foot doctor?”
It took Grace a moment to realize what Lettie was talking
about. “No. A pediatrician looks after
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