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.
6
G riff considered himself a patient man. He didn’t fly off the handle as a rule. And when he did, all bets were off, but it took a lot of pushing to get him off the ground.
But right at the moment he was seriously considering duct-taping Emma Kate’s
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.
6
G riff considered himself a patient man. He didn’t fly off the handle as a rule. And when he did, all bets were off, but it took a lot of pushing to get him off the ground.
But right at the moment he was seriously considering duct-taping Emma Kate’s
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