hell includes Chrissy, who didn’t love him at all.”
“Chrissy Coleman?” Sara asked in surprise. “Quincy Coleman’s daughter?”
“You’ve heard of her. She was Kenny’s high-school girlfriend before she dumped him for Mike Donahue. Who, by the way, looks even better than he did in high school. I just ran into him downstairs.”
Laurie’s story wasn’t making sense.
“You don’t have a problem with Michael?” Sara asked.
“Of course not,” Laurie said. “When we were teenagers, he was my hero.”
The words were strikingly like the first ones Sara had ever spoken to Michael. “How so?”
“I was head over heels for Kenny. Kenny was crazy about Chrissy. And Chrissy, well, Chrissy had her sights set on Mike. She begged him to take her with him when he left Indigo Springs. That was fine by me, idiot that I was back then. It left me a clear path to Kenny.”
“That’s not the way I heard it,” Sara said thoughtfully. “I heard Michael sweet-talked Chrissy into leaving.”
“Yeah, well. That’s the thing about small towns. You have to take what you hear with a whole shaker of salt and make your own mind up about people.”
It wasn’t until much later, when Sara ventured downstairs to close the windows that had been left open to air out the office, that Sara gave serious thought as to what her office manager had advised.
Laurie had told her to make up her own mind.
Sara yanked the first window closed. Isn’t that what she had done when she followed her heart to Indigo Springs? Hadn’t she vowed to quit doing what others expected of her and to be true to herself?
She positioned her fingers on the latch of the second window. Didn’t being true to herself involve choosing her own friends, without regard for people who tried to convince her she didn’t know her own mind?
Hadn’t she made up her mind about Michael long before now?
She tugged on the window but nothing happened. She tried exerting more force, but the window still wouldn’t budge. She moved back, arms crossed over her chest, wrestling with her problems.
Getting the window closed was minor. Getting Michael back into her life, however briefly, was major.
An idea occurred to her. Before she could consider its wisdom, she located her cell phone and found the phone number she wanted.
“Michael,” she said when she heard his voice. “It’s Sara. Could you come by? It’s going to be dark soon, and I can’t close one of the windows you left open.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
M ICHAEL CLICKED OFF his cell phone, pocketed it and ran a hand over his lower face.
“Trouble?” Johnny asked.
Michael had stopped by Pollock Construction to return the sander he’d borrowed and caught Johnny closing up for the day. His friend seemed so eager to go home to his bride that Michael had tabled plans to invite him out for a burger and a beer.
“Nothing like that,” he said, “but you got any spray lubricant I can borrow?”
“Sure. What for?”
“Uh, my, um, aunt. There’s a window she can’t get to shut.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Johnny went behind a counter, ducked down and handed him the bottle of lubricant. “Want to tell me who that really was?”
Michael figured there was no point in keeping up the fiction. “Sara Brenneman.”
“And she wants you to shut her window?” Johnny’s tone conveyed his skepticism.
“It’s stuck.”
Johnny laughed and slapped him on the back. “Sure it is.”
The window was stuck, although it turned out Michaeldidn’t need the spray lubricant. A little elbow grease worked just fine. He was fastening the latch and wondering why Sara hadn’t asked one of her neighbors to wrestle the troublesome window closed when the office door swung open.
“That’ll be the pizza,” she said brightly, as though they’d agreed to make a night of it. “Half pepperoni and half mushrooms. I took a chance you’d like one or the other.”
He stayed where he was while she dealt with the delivery
“Chrissy Coleman?” Sara asked in surprise. “Quincy Coleman’s daughter?”
“You’ve heard of her. She was Kenny’s high-school girlfriend before she dumped him for Mike Donahue. Who, by the way, looks even better than he did in high school. I just ran into him downstairs.”
Laurie’s story wasn’t making sense.
“You don’t have a problem with Michael?” Sara asked.
“Of course not,” Laurie said. “When we were teenagers, he was my hero.”
The words were strikingly like the first ones Sara had ever spoken to Michael. “How so?”
“I was head over heels for Kenny. Kenny was crazy about Chrissy. And Chrissy, well, Chrissy had her sights set on Mike. She begged him to take her with him when he left Indigo Springs. That was fine by me, idiot that I was back then. It left me a clear path to Kenny.”
“That’s not the way I heard it,” Sara said thoughtfully. “I heard Michael sweet-talked Chrissy into leaving.”
“Yeah, well. That’s the thing about small towns. You have to take what you hear with a whole shaker of salt and make your own mind up about people.”
It wasn’t until much later, when Sara ventured downstairs to close the windows that had been left open to air out the office, that Sara gave serious thought as to what her office manager had advised.
Laurie had told her to make up her own mind.
Sara yanked the first window closed. Isn’t that what she had done when she followed her heart to Indigo Springs? Hadn’t she vowed to quit doing what others expected of her and to be true to herself?
She positioned her fingers on the latch of the second window. Didn’t being true to herself involve choosing her own friends, without regard for people who tried to convince her she didn’t know her own mind?
Hadn’t she made up her mind about Michael long before now?
She tugged on the window but nothing happened. She tried exerting more force, but the window still wouldn’t budge. She moved back, arms crossed over her chest, wrestling with her problems.
Getting the window closed was minor. Getting Michael back into her life, however briefly, was major.
An idea occurred to her. Before she could consider its wisdom, she located her cell phone and found the phone number she wanted.
“Michael,” she said when she heard his voice. “It’s Sara. Could you come by? It’s going to be dark soon, and I can’t close one of the windows you left open.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
M ICHAEL CLICKED OFF his cell phone, pocketed it and ran a hand over his lower face.
“Trouble?” Johnny asked.
Michael had stopped by Pollock Construction to return the sander he’d borrowed and caught Johnny closing up for the day. His friend seemed so eager to go home to his bride that Michael had tabled plans to invite him out for a burger and a beer.
“Nothing like that,” he said, “but you got any spray lubricant I can borrow?”
“Sure. What for?”
“Uh, my, um, aunt. There’s a window she can’t get to shut.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” Johnny went behind a counter, ducked down and handed him the bottle of lubricant. “Want to tell me who that really was?”
Michael figured there was no point in keeping up the fiction. “Sara Brenneman.”
“And she wants you to shut her window?” Johnny’s tone conveyed his skepticism.
“It’s stuck.”
Johnny laughed and slapped him on the back. “Sure it is.”
The window was stuck, although it turned out Michaeldidn’t need the spray lubricant. A little elbow grease worked just fine. He was fastening the latch and wondering why Sara hadn’t asked one of her neighbors to wrestle the troublesome window closed when the office door swung open.
“That’ll be the pizza,” she said brightly, as though they’d agreed to make a night of it. “Half pepperoni and half mushrooms. I took a chance you’d like one or the other.”
He stayed where he was while she dealt with the delivery
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