EIGHTEEN
This time, when Madeline’s clown car puttered into the drive at the ranch, she was ready for the dogs—she’d picked up dog biscuits at Walmart.
She emerged cautiously, the open bag in her hand, biscuits ready to be handed out. She was mildly disappointed that only one of the dogs bothered to come out from under the porch. As the dog approached, she was quick to hold up a biscuit. That proved to be a mistake, however, because the moment she held it up, the other three leapt to their feet and rushed out from under the porch, straight for her.
“Stop!” she cried out. “Stop, stop!” Madeline tossed biscuits at them, which they were incredibly adroit at catching, their tails swishing furiously behind them. They crowded in closer, wanting more, and a twinge of panic sprouted in her chest. “Stop!” she shouted again.
“SIT!” she heard Libby bellow, and from the corner of her eye, saw her striding from the garage, carrying a box, and all four dogs sat instantly. “Garage!” she commanded as she marched forward. With a wistful look and sniff in the direction of Madeline’s box of biscuits, the dogs reluctantly slunk away, trotting off down into the meadow, their noses to the ground.
Madeline sagged against her car. “I don’t know how you do that.”
“Haven’t you ever had a dog?” Libby asked, taking the box of biscuits from Madeline.
“No. We moved too much when I was a kid.”
“Oh, really? Was your mom in the Armed Services?”
Madeline laughed. “No. She was flaky.”
Libby blinked. She handed the box of biscuits back to Madeline. “Well, for starters, you don’t offer biscuits unless they follow your command. Otherwise, it’s a free-for-all.” She suddenly smiled. “Look at you,” she said. “Cute dress.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to try hiking?” she asked, leaning back to have a look at Madeline’s boots.
“Maybe, yeah,” Madeline said. She hadn’t thought of it before this moment, but she’d seen some well-worn trails leading into the forest and thought, why not? “First, I was hoping we might talk,” she said.
She noticed Libby’s slight hesitation, but she said, “Sure! I found a coffeemaker yesterday. Want some?”
“Yes, thanks,” Madeline said. She grabbed her handbag and followed Libby inside.
The kitchen was starting to look inhabited. In addition to the coffeemaker, there was also a toaster. A green-checkered dish towel had been draped over the oven’s door handle, and some fresh flowers were in the little window above the sink.
“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Libby said, and began to bustle around the kitchen as if she’d been bustling around it for years instead of days, pouring out old grounds and taking a can of fresh coffee from the fridge.
Madeline looked around, wondering if she should do something or sit and wait to be served. What was the protocol between new sisters? She stood there, clutching her handbag. “I hope you won’t mind a little company,” she said, trying to sound light. “Turns out, I need a place to stay this week. The Grizzly Lodge is booked.”
Libby gave her a sidelong glance.
Madeline’s grip of her bag tightened. “Seems like it is here or that old hotel out on the Aspen Highway.”
She hoped Libby would say something like, “Oh heavens no, you can’t stay there!” But she didn’t. She said, “That’s great!” in a way that made Madeline think it was not okay, not okay at all.
“Are you sure?” Madeline asked carefully.
“It’s not up to me,” Libby said. “Choose one of the rooms upstairs and make yourself comfortable. What else did you want to talk about?”
That did not sound very welcoming. But Madeline pressed on. “Well, I was thinking about how to organize all the work we have to do, and I made some notes.” She took them out of her bag.
“Great idea,” Libby said. “I was thinking the same thing. I was planning to—”
“I thought it would make sense if we divvied the work up,” Madeline said quickly before Libby could disrupt her train of thought, or worse, object to order. Madeline really liked the idea of specific areas of work—it took out all the guesswork. And she needed a plan—that’s when she did her best work. It was the only way she knew how to work. “One of us takes charge of the cleaning. One of us does the research on the house and the market, one of us heads up the people management, and one of us takes charge of improvements. You know, however we have to get it done. That way, all areas are being addressed as quickly as possible.”
“People management,” Libby repeated uncertainly. “What’s that?”
“I made up that term,” Madeline said sheepishly. “But I was thinking, the reunion is what, two hundred people? That will require some coordination of people and activities.”
“I know!” Libby said, nodding earnestly. “I actually have a little experience with that. At the sheriff’s office I organized some of our bigger events.”
Madeline tried to guess what events a sheriff would organize. “You could take charge of the house,” Madeline said, consulting her list. “You know, cleaning and things like that. I will speak to Luke about doing whatever building project we need. And, of course, I will handle all the research, etc. I’m going to look into this inheritance thing.”
“What inheritance thing?” Libby asked.
“Oh, nothing really. I was thinking that we only have Jackson’s interpretation of our situation with the ranch and that maybe we should double-check with an outside source to be on the safe side.”
Libby regarded her stoically. “You don’t trust Jackson?”
“No, I do,” Madeline said. “I just thought it would be a good idea to make sure all bases are covered and nothing’s left out. So we have our assigned tasks to make this reunion go off, and then my commitment to do the research necessary to sell if that’s what we decide. So what do you think?”
Libby walked slowly toward the cabinet, opened it, and took out two coffee mugs. “What about people management, or whatever you called it?”
“Umm…” Madeline had figured she would do that, but worried Libby would be a little miffed. “We can decide later,” she suggested.
“Well,” Libby said. “Looks like you’ve done a lot of thinking.”
“It’s what I do,” Madeline said. “My job requires a lot of organization and planning.”
“Mine did, too,” Libby said. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Madeline.
Judging by Libby’s cool demeanor, Madeline thought it best to leave that remark alone. “Thanks,” she said, for the coffee. “Did, ah… did Jackson happen to leave the contract for the reunion?”
“He did,” Libby said without looking at her. “It’s on the coffee table.” She picked up a dish towel and began to wipe down perfectly clean counters.
Madeline picked up her coffee. “I didn’t mean to step on any toes,” she said to Libby. “I thought I was helping.”
“You didn’t upset me.” Libby glanced at her. “But it probably would have been more helpful if we’d made the list together.”
Madeline hadn’t thought of it that way. She was so used to charging ahead, with no objections from anyone, that she hadn’t really thought at all. “You’re right,” she conceded, earning a surprised look from Libby. “I’m sorry.”
Libby nodded and went back to wiping the countertops.
Madeline took herself out of the kitchen before she stepped on any more toes.
The papers were where Libby said they would be, spread out, as if Libby had been studying them, too. Madeline read through the requirements, making mental notes of all that remained to be done. Fortunately, Jackson had taken care of a lot of it. The big party tent that would serve as shelter and a gathering point for meals was sitting down by the fence, waiting to be put up. They had portable toilets and camping tents. The barbeque pits would be delivered in a day or two. The big project left was the construction of temporary showers at the bunkhouse. Madeline would have a look just as soon as she brought the rest of her things in.
She went out to her car for her carry-on, and carried it up to the second floor. Libby, she noticed, had taken up residence in what Madeline thought was the master suite and attached bath; her clothes were spread over the end of the bed.
At the end of the hall on Madeline’s left, she found Luke’s room. There wasn’t really anything inside, none of his “stuff” to go through, really. There was a stripped-down bed and a bureau.
Madeline rolled her carry-on into the room. She peeked into the closet, and was happy to see blankets and sheets, but nothing else. She noticed some marks on the bureau that looked like hatchet marks, as if someone had tried to chop the top of the heavy pine bureau. She ran her fingers over the scars before very tentatively opening a drawer to look in. She found a single athletic sock and a few yellowed pictures. She picked one up; it was a photo of a much younger Luke—she would guess him to be about fifteen—and a boy who looked very much like him. The boy was wearing an irrepressible grin and a blue football jersey. Luke’s brother, obviously; they had the same eyes. She put the picture into the drawer and closed it.
Madeline walked to the window and opened the blinds. She was surprised to find a medal hanging there. First place Roping, it said. She looked down, noticed the low-slung red building on the other side of the garage. Too big for a shed, too rectangular for a barn. That had to be the bunkhouse.
She walked out of the teenaged Luke’s room, leaving her bag just inside the door.
Outside, sunlight spilled over her, warming her. It was another gorgeously blue day, and it inspired Madeline to try and hike up one of the trails.
As she walked past the garage, Libby emerged carrying another box. “Oh, hey,” Madeline said. “I’m going to have a look at the bunkhouse.”
Libby paused and glanced back over her shoulder at the bunkhouse, then at Madeline. “Are you asking me?”
“No, I—I’m just letting you know. I mean, unless you want to come along. The more the merrier.”
“That’s okay,” Libby said. “I have some cleaning to do.” She walked on.
Madeline shook her head and continued, pausing at the open barn door to peek inside. The stalls were empty, but it smelled of manure and hay, and there were several hay bales stacked along the back wall. Horse tack hung just inside the entrance.
She carried on to the bunkhouse, passing through a small fenced area where it looked as if someone had tilled rows for planting at some point, but where weeds now grew. The place looked closed up. Madeline opened the screen door and tried the handle of the door, but it was locked.
She let the screen door close with a bang and stepped off the little porch, walking to the one picture window, and peered in. The light inside was dim, but she could see pages from a newspaper on a chair next to a worn-out lounger. There was a small, flat screen TV mounted to the wall. She couldn’t make out anything else. She walked around the corner to the back and was surprised to find a large deck with built-in seating and two barbeque pits. The kitchen was clearly visible through sliding glass doors. It was much larger than Madeline would have guessed, with a huge fridge and a freezer. Like the main house, the wallpaper was fading and the Formica countertops looked worn.
She went around to the back of the bunkhouse. The weeds were tall here, and she had to stand on a rock to look in one of two windows, only to find that the blinds had been closed. She hopped over to the next window, righting an old gray bucket to stand on it. The blinds were open, and she could see through to a hallway with green shag carpet. This room had bunk beds.
Just then, a man suddenly walked by the open doorway, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist. He had long, wet hair. With a gasp of alarm, Madeline ducked. She hopped off the bucket and squatted down, looking frantically about. Someone lived here? She’d been casually peering in the windows of someone’s house? She half-crawled, half-ran from the bunkhouse, and walked briskly down the road to the main house, her heart pounding.
She saw Libby on the back porch of the main house and jogged toward it. “Libby!” she cried. “There is a man in that house!” She flung her arm out, pointing to the bunkhouse.
“Ernest Delgado,” Libby said, a little too pertly to suit Madeline. “He’s the ranch hand here.”
Libby had known a man was in that house when Madeline had gone off to have a look, and had let her go. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Madeline demanded.
Libby shrugged. “I thought you’d probably worked it out for yourself that he’d come back.”
Madeline whirled around before she said something she couldn’t take back.
“Where are you going?” Libby called after her.
“For a walk!” Madeline shouted back.
She walked for several minutes before she was able to unclench her fists and take a breath. She paused and looked around her, at sunlight sparkling through the trees, at the dense foliage and rich colors in the shadow of the forest. The scenery was truly beautiful. So serene.
She moved again, only much slower now, breathing as deeply as she could of the cool, clean air. The path was steep, but she moved slowly, pausing every now and then to catch her breath. She appreciated the steady effort, the stretch in calves as she moved up. If she lived here, she would be like Luke’s mother and walk up the mountain, into the forest, every day. This experience, at least in Madeline’s narrow world, was incomparable to anything else.
She was actually smiling as she climbed, and at first didn’t notice the sound below her in the trees. When she did, she decided she’d imagined it. But when she heard it again, she stopped and looked back. She expected to see a dog, maybe even Libby.
Madeline realized she hadn’t actually come up as far as she thought; she could still see the top of the house. She listened for the sound again, and heard nothing. She turned around to continue on when she heard it again, and this time, there was no denying it—something was in those woods. Something bigger than a squirrel.
Much, much bigger.
Whatever it was crashed through the woods, its footfall slow but so heavy that she could hear the snap of every limb and twig beneath its weight.
Bear.
Madeline’s heart climbed to her throat. She was uphill from a grizzly bear; her only escape was up.
The beast moved again, drawing closer, huge and lumbering. Panic-stricken, Madeline tried to think of all the things she’d read in the Grizzly Lodge’s local guide about what to do if one ran across a bear. She could not recall one word, and couldn’t picture anything but being mauled by a bear, her face excoriated by its enormous paws, her limbs bitten off.
Madeline lost it. Every ounce of composure, every ounce of courage, every shred of common sense flooded out of her like a levee had broken. She screamed—a bloodcurdling, piercing scream that scared even her, and began to run down the path, sliding on rocks and tripping over limbs, all the while shrieking, “Bear! Bear! Bear!”
She rounded a corner and looked back to see if the bear was on her heels, and tripped, almost stumbling to her hands and knees but managing, by some miracle, to right herself and keep running. When she was almost to the point where the trail flattened out into the clearing behind the house, she saw Luke running up toward her. Madeline launched herself at him, her arms going tightly around his neck. Luke stumbled backward but held on to her without falling, then grabbed her arms. “Madeline, what the hell!” he demanded, pulling her arms from his neck, holding her firmly.
“Bear!” she shrieked frantically at him, her fingers digging into his arms.
Luke looked past her. Madeline’s blood was pounding loudly in her ears, her skin crawling with fear.
Luke suddenly threw an arm around her, yanking her into his chest, holding her in his ironclad grip. Madeline could hear the beast coming toward them. She did not let propriety stand in the way; she buried her face in his chest.
“Brace yourself, girl,” he said softly. “We might have to fight.”
“What?” she cried, jerking her gaze up to him.
His lips were pressed together, his eyes squinting at something in the distance. She could feel his strength, could feel safety in his arms. It was insanity that Madeline should feel anything in that moment, much less something hot and fast glowing in her. It was absurd that she should look at his mouth and think of kissing him—had she lost her ever-loving mind? What the hell was the matter with her?
Luke suddenly lowered his head, his mouth next to her temple, and blood began to rush in her ears. “Here’s what we do. You create a diversion and I’ll rush it from behind—”
“Are you crazy!” she cried, and struggled against him. All thoughts of kissing him were out of her head now, and survival her only instinct.
But Luke held her tight. His mouth began to quiver; the squint of his eyes began to glint with amusement. Madeline twisted around—
A cow was meandering down the path, another one behind that.
The laugh Luke had been holding back exploded out of him. Madeline shoved hard against his chest and he took a step back, doubled over with laughter. “It’s a cow,” he said through gasps of laughter.
“I can see that!” Madeline shouted. “I thought it was a bear!” She doubled over, her hands on her knees, sucking in her breath, trying to ease her racing heart, to erase the tingly feeling in her skin. “This is not funny,” she said. But it was—she was trying to contain her smile.
Luke was overcome with laughter. “You should have seen yourself, flying down the trail. I’ve never seen anyone run that fast!”
“But the cows are way up there!” she cried, pointing up the mountain.
“They were. But sometimes, they get on a familiar path and come down.” He was still grinning as he held out his hand to her. “Come on,” he said, and grabbed her hand, tugging on her. “You gotta move, Maddie. The cows are headed for the trough.” He tugged her just off the path, pulling her back into his body to let the two cows pass.
Every inch of Madeline was aware of every inch of him. She was lit up, raw, a big fat neon sign pulsing with adrenaline, and a gravity pulling her into the man at her back.
Luke put his hands on her shoulders as the cows wandered by. “Take another breath and remember, that one day, you will think it was hilarious you thought a cow was a bear.”
“That assumes I don’t kill myself trying to run from cows in the meantime,” she muttered breathlessly.
“I have to admit, it’s sexy,” he said. “Unpredictable woman afraid of mice and cows.”
The word sexy sluiced through Madeline like warm butter. “I am not afraid of cows,” she corrected him. “Let’s just say I am unfamiliar.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” He patted her on the shoulder and stepped around her, starting down behind the cows.
Madeline hurried after him in case another unfamiliar beast should make an appearance. “Wait!” She hurried to catch up. “Where are you going?”
“To build some temporary showers. Wanna help?” he asked, then bellowed at one of the cows to move, hitting it on the rump. The cow galloped around the one in front, and the two of them trotted to the barn.
“I do! I had some thoughts on how to proceed,” she said.
“With what?”
“All the work that must be done.”
They had reached an old pickup that had stacks of plywood and assorted lumber in its bed.
“I thought about dividing the work into quadrants.”
Luke paused and gave her a puzzled look. “Into what?”
“Quadrants. It’s my organization technique. I am going to work on the contracts and research,” she said, holding up a finger. “Libby is cleaning. You will do construction.” She held up a forth finger. “We can decide later who will handle the Johnsons. I was thinking maybe a bulletin board by the fence around the front yard, you know, for notes and Lost and Found—” She gave herself a quick shake of the head. “I am getting ahead of myself. The point is, someone needs to deal with the Johnsons.”
Luke regarded her with a curious smile. “Quadrants, huh?”
“Trust me. It works.”
“Are you always so organized?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Always.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“I’m just wondering if someone can really live a life in quadrants.” He handed her a hammer.
“I don’t live in quadrants,” she said, as if that were ridiculous. “But organization is what makes the world go around. What’s this?”
“A hammer.”
She smiled. “I know it’s a hammer. But why are you giving it to me?”
“Because we need to start building showers. And organization does not make the world go round, people do. Flawed, unorganized people. Do you ever just go with the flow?”
“No,” she said, watching him strap on a tool belt that hung low on his hips.
“Well that was definitive. Why not?”
“In my experience,” she said with a small incline of her head, “in the absence of organization and planning, there is only chaos.”
“I would argue—” he paused with a slight grunt to hoist lumber onto his shoulder from the bed of the truck “—that in chaos, there is often the joy of discovery.”
“Oh no,” Madeline said with a laugh. She knew chaos, and she had never known there to be any joy in it. Madeline had only to think back on her life, at the many times her mother’s lack of organization had left them living in a car—
“What about yesterday?” He winked at her and started toward the bunkhouse.
Madeline blushed deeply at the reminder. “I’m just trying to avoid a big chaotic disaster here!” she called after him, and heard him laugh.
“You can’t control everything, you know. Up here it’s okay to go with the flow. The mountains have their own energy. You’ll see what I mean. But for right now, Blue Eyes, we need to organize some showers.”
He had a point. Madeline followed him down to the bunkhouse. There were three men there, two of them digging a trough. Madeline cringed a little at the sight of the man with long damp hair.
Luke surprised her, speaking to the men in Spanish. The four of them began to work, building a platform from slatted wood. Luke made Madeline help, standing behind her, showing her how to hold the hammer and set a nail when the four men hoisted a sheet of plywood.
It was hard work, she quickly realized, but exhilarating. They managed to erect the back of what would become three temporary showers. But when her arm began to burn with the exertion, and the hammer grew heavier, Luke took it from her. “You’re fired,” he teased her, and made quick work of the two nails she’d been assigned to hammer. “We’ll finish up here.”
She wouldn’t argue and stepped back. “I’ll go… organize something else,” she said.
“Still need the ride tomorrow?” Luke asked as she began to back away.
“Still offering?”
“Of course. I could use a passenger who carries a map and a highlighter. I’ll pick you up at the airport rental at five?”
Madeline could feel that ridiculously broad smile appear on her face again. “See you then,” she said, and turned around, striding away before she turned to goo.
She looked back only once. Luke was still watching her. She smiled and turned around again.
Yep, she was right. That man looked awfully good in a pair of jeans. Madeline walked back to the house, feeling the pull of the mountains—or something—through her. She felt good. Airy. As if wind chimes were tinkling deep inside her.
Libby walked out onto the porch with a basket of laundry as Madeline stepped into the yard. She wasn’t even perturbed with Libby anymore. “Need some help?” she offered.
“Hanging laundry?” Libby asked.
“I happen to be an expert laundry hanger,” Madeline said.
“Okay,” Libby said. “Come on.”
Madeline followed Libby into the trees and a clearing she had not seen until now. There was a deck here, a couple of old Adirondack chairs among pots that had obviously been full at one point, judging by the dead leaves and stems. And a table made from the stump of an old tree. A pair of mushrooms was growing from a crack in the middle of it. A frayed hammock swung between two trees, next to the clothesline.
“This is pretty,” Madeline said.
“I think it was Mrs. Kendrick’s garden,” Libby said, and planted the basket at her feet. She picked three clothespins from the line and pulled a floral chiffon blouse from the basket.
“That’s lovely,” Madeline said, and picked up a towel.
“Thanks. I bought it for a wedding.”
“Whose?” Madeline asked idly as she pinned the towel.
Libby gave her a funny look. “Dad’s,” she said after a moment. “His last one. What was it, five? Six? I lost count.”
“Wow,” Madeline said.
“Yeah… I guess he got around.”
Madeline wondered how Grant managed to attract so many women. Was he handsome? Sophisticated? She surprised herself by asking, “What sort of dad was he?”
“He was okay,” Libby said, and shrugged. “He was decent to me.”
Decent was an odd way to describe a father.
“You really don’t know anything about him?” Libby asked as she picked up a sheet. “I mean, surely your mom must have said something about him, right?”
Madeline snorted. “My mom hardly remembers him. I don’t think they were together very long. What about your mom?”
“They were together a few years after he split up from Emma’s mom. I don’t know this for a fact, but I think maybe something was going on between them before he ever left Emma’s mom. My mom calls him her brain drain.” She laughed at that.
So did Madeline. “Did he do things with you? I mean, like father-daughter dances, or softball, something like that?”
Libby tossed her head back and laughed. “God no,” she said, smiling with amusement. “He wasn’t that kind of dad. He was the kind of dad who sometimes gave me money and every once in a while would take me to dinner and ask how I was doing. And then I wouldn’t hear from him for months.” She paused, looking off for a moment. “He took Emma and me to Disney once. But even then, I remember he stayed in the hotel watching sports while Emma’s mother took us to the park.”
As a child, Madeline had been dragged to Disney World with her mother and her friends, usually left to fend for herself, loosely chaperoned by some teen, while her mother and her friends stayed behind in a seedy hotel and drank. Madeline hated Disney because of that.
“How did you end up in California with Emma, if he was married to your mom later?” Madeline asked.
Libby sighed. “Oh, the drama.” She paused to pin a pillowcase. “We lived in Colorado Springs. When I was about eight, he and my mom broke up, and he went back to Emma’s mom in California. It was like a soap opera. Anyway, Mom and Dad had this big, ugly custody fight and she lost the first go-round. Dad didn’t want to pay child support.” She smiled sheepishly at Madeline. “I guess that’s no surprise.”
Madeline smiled back. “Unfortunately, no.”
“I was there a year or so with Emma and her mom, then Dad thought I’d be better off with my mom and shipped me home. My mom had met her second husband by then.”
“Do you keep in touch with Emma?” Madeline asked.
Libby clipped a sheet on the line. “Not really. Emma’s different. She’s always out in the world doing things. And she’s not very sentimental. Me, I’m more of a homebody. What about you?”
“It’s just me and my mom,” Madeline said. “She never married. And she wasn’t very good at holding down a job, so we bounced around a lot.”
“Looks like we have a few things in common after all, Madeline,” Libby said.
Madeline wasn’t sure why Libby said it precisely that way, as if she had already determined that they had nothing in common. Generally, Madeline would agree. But Madeline was beginning to warm to Libby. There was something about her that Madeline could relate to. As much as she hated to admit it, it was something sad.
“I’m going to Denver tomorrow,” Madeline announced, turning back to business and the safety she felt in the midst of rules and tasks that needed completion, “I have to return my car to Denver. I’m going to catch a ride back with Luke. So I don’t know how late I will be.”
“Luke, huh?” Libby asked slyly.
“It’s not like that,” Madeline said. “He’s just doing me a favor.”
Libby looked as if she didn’t believe Madeline for even a moment. “You have to admit that he’s not too hard on the eyes.”
“He’s okay,” Madeline said, but she could feel the telltale heat creeping into her cheeks and smiled self-consciously.
“Okay?” Libby snorted. “Most women I know would kill to have a shot with a guy like Luke Kendrick. But then, I hear he is still in love with Julie Daugherty.”
Madeline’s heart fluttered. “Who?” she asked coyly, knowing very well who. A pretty blonde woman with an adorable baby girl, that was who.
“Julie Daugherty. They were together for a few years. They were supposed to get married a while back, but then she broke it off.”
That certainly had Madeline’s attention. “Really? What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Libby said. “I just heard it through the grapevine.”
This is what happened when attachments formed, Madeline thought. Disappointment. Deep rivers of disappointment. Perhaps this was a good thing. Madeline didn’t want any attachment, so the rumor served as a reminder that she was experiencing nothing more than a little mountain flirtation that Trudi would congratulate her for. Nothing more.
As Libby chattered about something Julie did in high school, Madeline reminded herself that her life was in Orlando and she needed to concentrate on doing what she needed to do so she could go home. She really couldn’t afford to be wandering around the mountains thinking silly thoughts about a man she would not know more than this week. Nor did she want to be on hand when the Johnsons began to show up.
In fact, when she left here today, she would drive to town and call Stephen, get the name of that realtor. No use putting that off, was there?
Yep, hearing about Luke and Julie was a good thing. It gave her perspective again. And Madeline would ignore that hearing it felt a little like being punched.