# A Turn in the Road

Debbie Macomber

Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisSometimes, where you think you’re going isn’t where you end up. . .Bethanne Hamlin has her life all mapped out. Until her ex-husband, Grant, suggests they reconcile – now Bethanne’s facing a turn in the road. So when her former mother-in-law, Ruth, suggests a road trip she jumps at the chance to escape…A long-time widow, Ruth is hoping to reconnect with the love of her teenage life, so she’s driving to her fifty-year high-school reunion. As they pull away from Blossom Street, Bethanne’s daughter Annie decides she’s joining this trip of a lifetime – proving to her one-time boyfriend that she can live a brilliant life without him!Standing at their own personal crossroads, sharing secrets and confronting fears, this journey could change three women’s lives forever. Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.

Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.

CEDAR COVE

16 Lighthouse Road

204 Rosewood Lane

311 Pelican Court

44 Cranberry Point

50 Harbor Street

6 Rainier Drive

74 Seaside Avenue

8 Sandpiper Way

92 Pacific Boulevard

BLOSSOM STREET

The Shop on Blossom Street

A Good Yarn

Susannah’s Garden

(previously published as Old Boyfriends) Back on Blossom Street (previously published as Wednesdays at Four) Twenty Wishes Summer on Blossom Street Hannah’s List

Thursdays at Eight


Christmas in Seattle

Falling for Christmas

A Mother’s Gift

## A Turn in the Road

Debbie Macomber


www.mirabooks.co.uk

With heartfelt appreciation to Nancy Berland

who has helped me navigate every turn in the road

in my publishing career

Dear Friends,

My husband, Wayne, and I love road trips. Because we have two homes, one in Washington State and the other in Florida, we drive back and forth twice a year. In case you’re interested, that’s 3,323 miles, door to door. Wayne plans the route and we’ve visited nearly every state between Washington and Florida. Perhaps because of that, I’ve always wanted to write a book that involved a cross-country drive.

Since I first wrote A Good Yarn, which introduced the character Bethanne Hamlin, she’s been on my mind. When her husband left her and their family for a younger woman, Bethanne was devastated and eventually joined a knitting class as a kind of therapy. The friends she made in Lydia’s yarn store helped her deal with the abrupt change in her life.

The idea for Bethanne’s party business actually came from my daughter, Jenny Adele, who held a wonderfully creative party for our oldest grandson when he turned eight. They were living on a one-family income, so money was tight. Using her imagination and playing on Cameron’s interest in the army, she mailed out draft notices as party invitations. Then my son-in-law designed an obstacle course on their property. Adding to the fun, my oldest son, Ted, a former Army Ranger, provided camouflage makeup and MREs. The boys had the time of their lives and the entire party cost little more than a cake mix and a few stamps.

I was proud of Bethanne and the success of her business and I wanted to do more with this character. I didn’t like Grant, her ex-husband, the first time around, but when he reappeared in A Turn in the Road he was much more sympathetic. He’s recognised his mistake and wants his family back. This is a difficult decision for Bethanne. As it happens, she has an opportunity to travel across the country with her daughter and her ex-mother-in-law. Three generations of women each facing … a turn in the road. By the way, if you’re a committed film buff, you may notice that I’ve moved the release date of Breakfast at Tiffany’s forward by a few months. I took this liberty because—well, frankly, it worked for the story.

As always, I’m eager to hear from my readers. You can reach me in two ways: either by logging on to my website at www.DebbieMacomber.com and signing the guestbook, or by contacting me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.

Warmly,


## One

“I think Dad wants to get back together.” Bethanne’s daughter, Annie, spoke with studied nonchalance. “He still loves you, Mom.”

Bethanne’s spoon hovered over her bowl of soup as they sat at a window table in theirfavorite café. This wasn’t actually news and shouldn’t have come as any surprise. Didn’t come as any surprise. She’d seen the signs, as recently as this morning. These days Grant was inventing excuses to call her.

Six years ago her world had imploded when her husband confessed that he’d fallen in love with another woman. With barely a backward glance, Grant had walked out—out of their home, their marriage, their lives. And now he wanted back in.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Annie asked, toying with her fork. She watched her mother intently.

“Not really.” She swallowed the soup and lowered her spoon for another taste.

Annie, it seemed, had forgotten. But not Bethanne.

The morning Grant told her he wanted a divorce would stay in her mind forever. He couldn’t seem to get away from her fast enough. He’d retained a lawyer and advised her to do the same, then coldly informed her that all future communication would be through their lawyers. The less contact with her and their children, the better, he’d said. A clean break was best.

Grant’s decision had struck Bethanne with the force and unpredictability of a hurricane. She’d stumbled blindly through the next few months, trying to hold her family together, clinging to the semblance of normality while her world disintegrated around her. “You really don’t have anything to say?” Annie prodded.

“No,” Bethanne said shortly. She swallowed another spoonful of soup and reached for the herb scone. “What disturbs me is that your father would let you do his talking for him.”

Annie had the grace to look chastened, but she pushed her food away as if she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

At one time Bethanne had dreamed Grant would regret what he’d done, that he’d seek her forgiveness and come crawling back to her. She’d wanted him to suffer for the way he’d treated her, for the hurt he’d inflicted when he’d turned his back on their children.

But in the years since the divorce, Bethanne had gradually found her footing and, in the process, discovered a self she didn’t know existed—a stronger, independent Bethanne, a woman forged in the fire of despair. Now her two children were on their own; her oldest, Andrew, was engaged to be married in a few weeks, following his graduation from law school. As for her daughter, Annie was a year from obtaining her MBA. She worked part-time with Bethanne on the creative end of the party business Bethanne had established in the wake of her divorce.

During her twenty years of marriage, Bethanne had become known for her lavish and inventive parties. She’d taken pride in making Grant look good by hosting unforgettable events for clients and potential clients—an invitation to Grant’s home became a sought-after privilege in certain circles. Her birthday parties for Andrew and Annie were legendary. But never once had she dreamed that her party-giving skills would eventually be parlayed into such a success.

She’d started the business, which she called simply Parties, as a way of making enough money to continue living in their family home, although she’d had to take out a substantial second mortgage to get Parties off the ground. Grant had paid the required support, but depending on that would’ve meant moving to a smaller house in a different neighborhood. If ever her children needed stability, she knew, it was in the period after the divorce. She’d since paid off both mortgages.

To Bethanne’s astonishment, the business had taken off immediately. She’d started small, with themed birthday parties for children. The Alice in Wonderland Tea Party had been the most popular of the dozens of concepts she’d created. With busy schedules, parents were looking for an easy, economical way to make birthday parties special. Bethanne’s company had filled that need.

Currently, there were five Parties stores in the Seattle area, including the original location, and she was considering a deal that offered national franchising opportunities. The key was to keep the ideas fresh and the prices reasonable. This past winter she’d added a “birthday party in a box”—more scaled-down, do-it-yourself versions of her trademarked theme parties.

A year earlier Bethanne had hired Julia Hayden as her corporate operations manager. Julia was efficient, dedicated and gifted. She loved the job and had begun overseeing the company’s day-to-day activities, freeing Bethanne to focus on creative development. Annie worked with her, and the two of them had recently developed birthday party ideas for cats and dogs, which was now a popular trend, especially among childless, affluent professionals. They’d expanded into other types of parties, too—anniversary and retirement celebrations, Christmas and even Halloween events.

Bethanne signaled for the check, and they went their separate ways with a quick hug and a wave. Annie was walking back to the office, while Bethanne headed for Blossom Street and A Good Yarn. Knitting had become one of her favourite activities. When she needed to think, nothing helped more than sitting down with a knitting project. She felt a sense of happy anticipation as she parked in front of the yarn store, which was owned by her dear friend Lydia Goetz.

With the wedding only six weeks away, she’d wanted to knit something for Courtney, her almost-daughter-in-law, to wear during the wedding.

The wedding. It was why Grant had called her two weeks ago—their son’s marriage had given him a legitimate excuse—and he’d called twice since then, including this morning.

Other than the occasional joint decisions they’d made regarding their children, they’d had little personal contact since the divorce. Then Grant had phoned her with a question about a wedding gift for Andrew and Courtney. He’d been friendly and relaxed. And this week, he’d asked her to dinner.

Dinner. She and Grant. After six years?

She’d heard from Annie that his marriage to Tiffany had ended in divorce the previous year—after a brief separation—and felt genuinely sorry for him. This was a second divorce for Tiffany, as well. In fact, Bethanne had briefly dated Paul, Tiffany’s first husband, shortly after the divorce, although date wasn’t exactly the right word. They’d been more of a two-person support group, helping each other grapple with their betrayal by the people they loved.

Unfortunately, Andrew’s relationship with his father remained cool. Her son had met his father’s desertion with a bitter resolve that only seemed to harden as he grew older. Andrew was polite but kept an emotional distance from Grant.

For Annie, sixteen at the time, the divorce had been nothing short of devastating. Always a “daddy’s girl,” she’d acted out her shock and pain as only a willful teenager can. Annie blamed Tiffany for stealing her father away and had done everything she could to sabotage the marriage. But Bethanne was also a target for her rage during those early months. Annie had railed at her for being too “boring” and “clueless” to keep her father happy. Bethanne had never responded to Annie’s accusations about her failures as a wife, afraid to reveal how close to home her words had hit. Eventually, Annie had adjusted to the new reality, although she still referred to Grant’s second wife in sarcastic tones as “the lovely Tiffany.”

Bethanne thought about her conversation with him that morning. His excuse for calling this time was so flimsy Bethanne couldn’t even remember what it was. He’d kept her on the line, relating office gossip as if she was still intimately familiar with the goings-on at his workplace. After several minutes of chatter, he reminded her that she hadn’t given him a definite answer regarding his dinner invitation.

“Grant,” she’d said bluntly. “Why are you doing this?”

For a moment there was silence on the other end. When he spoke, any hints of lightheartedness were gone. “I made a mistake, Bethanne.” His voice caught, and for once he seemed at a loss for words. “A major one.” He left the rest unsaid, but she knew what he meant. He wanted things back the way they used to be.

Well, good luck with that. Bethanne wasn’t the same naive woman he’d divorced, and she wasn’t interested in retracing her steps.

After six years on her own, she’d discovered she didn’t want or need a man complicating her life. Years ago she’d read somewhere that “it takes a hell of a man to replace no man.” At first, that remark had seemed merely humorous; she hadn’t completely understood what it meant. She did now.

While she was flattered that Grant wanted to reconcile, the situation wasn’t that simple. He’d had his chance. He was the one who’d deserted her, who’d left her floundering and shaken. Without ever thinking about the consequences of his actions, he’d ripped apart their family, betrayed her and their children, robbed them all of their security.

Now he was sorry. Fine. He’d seen the error of his ways and realized what a terrible mistake he’d made.

So of course he wanted her back. She was a successful businesswoman with a growing company that received lots of media and corporate interest. In six short years she’d made a name for herself. She’d been interviewed by Forbes and the Wall Street Journal. A piece had been written about her in USA Today. Her ex had his nerve.

Contrition was all well and good. Bethanne felt a certain vindication in hearing Grant admit how wrong he’d been, a certain sense of righteousness. She’d forgiven him to the best of her ability, refusing to let herself be trapped in the mire of resentment. He had a new life and so did she. But forgiveness, she’d learned, was tricky. Just when she felt sure she was beyond rancor, she’d find herself wallowing in indignation. Like the night three years ago when the pipe burst in the basement and she couldn’t figure out where to turn off the water. If Grant had been there he would’ve known what to do. By the time she found the tap she’d been shaking with anger, and as unreasonable as it seemed, she’d blamed Grant. This was all his fault. He should’ve been there. How dared he do this to her and, worse, to their children!.

She should reject his invitation, she told herself now. Laugh in his face. Tell him to take a hike.

To her astonishment she couldn’t.

It had taken courage for Grant to approach her, courage and, yes, nerve. She’d give him that. Crazy though it might be, Bethanne realized she still had feelings for Grant, feelings she’d pushed aside for the past few years. She didn’t love him, not in the all-consuming way she had when theywere married. Back then, she’d been blind to his flaws and his weaknesses, blind to what should’ve been obvious, especially after he’d started the affair. His betrayal had revealedthat the man she’d married was selfish and shallow. And yet he hadn’t always been like that. She couldn’t forget the companionship—and the passion—of their early years together…

She loved him.

She hated him.

Both emotions warred within her.

“Dinner for old times’ sake,” he’d almost pleaded. “Besides, we need to talk about Andrew’s wedding.”

Six years ago Bethanne had been desperate for him to come home. Her pride was gone. What she’d craved was exactly what Grant wanted now—for everything to go back to the way it had been. At the time she’d believed she could fix whatever was wrong. They’d been happy, and could be again.

When it became apparent that his affair with Tiffany wasn’t a fling and Grant fully intended to go through with the divorce, an all-consuming rage had taken root. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. At night she lay awake plotting revenge. One day Grant would be sorry. He’d beg her to take him back and she’d laugh in his face. He would pay for what he’d done.

Then, several months after the divorce was finalized, she woke with that familiar ugly feeling in the pit of her stomach and realized this corrosive, soul-destroying bitterness couldn’t continue. As the saying had it, the best revenge was living well—living a successful, independent life. So Bethanne had dedicated herself to her business.

Gradually, she’d stopped thinking about Grant. She embraced her new life, her new identity. Indirectly, she had Grant to thank for her flourishing business, her circle of loyal new friends, for the strength and confidence she’d never known she had. It felt odd to her now that she’d once been content to be simply Grant’s wife, looking after his social affairs and staying in the background.

Dinner for old times’ sake? Just the two of them?

In the years since the divorce, Bethanne had dated a number of men. Besides Tiffany’s ex, a couple of them stood out in her mind. But she’d been so focused on building her business that neither relationship had lasted more than six months. She wasn’t ready or willing to make a serious commitment to anyone. Those relationships, albeit short, had boosted her depleted ego. She’d enjoyed them but she wasn’t looking for a long-term commitment.

Bethanne had concluded their phone call without giving Grant an answer. She needed to ponder her ex-husband’s newfound contrition, and there was no more effective way of doing that than knitting. It was both productive and contemplative; you created something while you meditated on your problems. That was why she’d stopped at Lydia’s—to pick up yarn for the elegant finger-less gloves she’d make for Courtney’s wedding.

Lydia glanced up from the display she was working on and smiled when Bethanne entered the store. “You got my message! The cashmere yarn’s in.”

Bethanne smiled back. “I can hardly wait to get started.” Knitting had seen her through the darkest days of her life. Annie was the one who’d signed her up for classes, because even dialing the phone number for the yarn store was more than she could manage back then; the smallest tasks had seemed insurmountable. In retrospect, Bethanne knew she’d fallen into a dangerous depression.

Annie had enrolled Bethanne in a beginners’ sock-knitting class. Meeting the other women had been a turning point for her. Her new friends gave her courage and the determination to emerge from her ordeal a stronger woman. Not only that, it was through the knitting class that she’d met Elise, and through Elise, Maverick. He’d ended up being the “angel” who’d helped her launch Parties. Her classmates had reminded Bethanne that she wasn’t alone, rebuilding her confidence one stitch at a time.

That class was the beginning of Bethanne’s new life. And Part Two turned out to be better than Part One had ever been. Was it possible to knit the two halves together again? Did she want to?

“The pattern isn’t difficult,” Lydia told her as she brought the yarn to the cash register. “Once you do a couple of repeats, I’m sure you won’t have a problem, but if you do, just stop by and I’ll help you figure it out.”

Bethanne paid for the purchase, grateful that Lydia had wound the yarn, saving her the effort. At first, she’d considered knitting Courtney’s veil, but there wasn’t time. Although a bit disappointed, she knew fingerless gloves were a far more manageable project. Her hope was that the gloves would be beautiful enough to become a family heirloom, passed down from one generation to the next.

“Alix was in this week and brought Tommy with her,” Lydia said as she handed Bethanne the yarn. “You wouldn’t believe how much he’s grown. It’s hard to believe he’s nearly a year old.”

Alix, a friend of theirs, was employed as a baker at the French Café across the street. “She’s gone back to work?”

Lydia nodded. “Just part-time. Now with Winter pregnant … there must be something in the water over there.” Lydia grinned. “Or the coffee.”

So many changes on Blossom Street, and all of them good.

“How’s Casey?” Bethanne asked about Lydia’s adopted daughter. A couple of months before, when Casey turned thirteen, Bethanne had planned her birthday party.

“Casey’s fine,” Lydia assured her. “She had a few academic challenges and will be attending summer school again. It’s not the end of the world but Casey tends to get down on herself. We’re working on that.” Lydia leaned against the counter. “The poor kid came to us with a lot of baggage.”

“No doubt about that.” Bethanne had to admire Brad and Lydia for opening their hearts and their home to the troubled girl.

“It helps that she’s so close to my mother… My biggest fear is what’ll happen once Mom is gone,” Lydia said, her voice subdued.

“Is your mother doing okay?”

Lydia rubbed her eyes. “Not really.” She gave a small, hopeless shrug. “She’s declining, and that’s so hard to watch. You know, she sometimes forgets who I am but she always remembers Casey. I think it’s one of those small miracles. It makes Casey feel important and loved, which she is. Everyone at the assisted-living complex adores Casey. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hired her once she’s old enough to have a job. Her patience with Mom and Mom’s friends is amazing. She loves hearing their stories.”

Bethanne nodded sympathetically.

“No one seems to have enough time for the elderly anymore….” Lydia shook her head. “I’m guilty of rushing visits myself, but not Casey. She sits and listens for hours and never seems to get impatient, even when Mom repeats the same story over and over again.”

“And Margaret?” Bethanne noticed that Lydia’s older sister, who often worked with her, wasn’t in the store.

“She took the day off. Wednesdays are slow, and she had a dentist’s appointment at eleven. I told her to enjoy the afternoon.”

Margaret was a store fixture and so different from Lydia that new customers often didn’t realize they were sisters. Margaret was good-hearted but tended to be gruff and opinionated, and took a bit of getting used to. “How’s business going?” she ventured, aware that she was the only person in the store at the moment.

“Surprisingly well.” Lydia cheered visibly. “People turn to domestic pursuits during recessions, and lots of people want to knit these days.”

“Have you talked to Anne Marie and Ellen since they moved?”

Lydia returned to arranging the yarn display. “Practically every day. Ellen didn’t want to leave Blossom Street but I see her as much as ever. She has plenty of friends in her new neighborhood and has definitely made the adjustment.”

“I’m so happy for her.” A young widow, Anne Marie had adopted the girl after volunteering at a local grade school. Although Lydia had never said so, Bethanne knew that Ellen’s adoption had influenced her and Brad to make Casey part of their family.

“Do you have a few minutes for tea?” Lydia asked.

Bethanne checked her watch. “Sorry, no, I’m on my way to the office. I’m supposed to meet with Julia.”

“Soon, then.” Lydia waved as Bethanne opened the door.

“Soon,” Bethanne promised.

“Stop by if you have any trouble with that pattern,” she called over her shoulder.

“I will.”

As she unlocked her car, Bethanne looked over at the French Café and was startled to see her ex-mother-in-law, Ruth Hamlin, sitting at an outside table eating her lunch.

Despite the divorce, Bethanne had a warm relationship with Ruth. For her children’s sake she’d kept in touch with Grant’s mother and his younger sister, Robin. But as Lydia had so recently reminded her, no one had enough time for older people anymore. Bethanne felt guilty as charged. She rarely saw Ruth these days, and it had been several weeks since they’d talked.

Ruth had been horrified by Grant’s decision to walk away from his family. She hadn’t been shy about letting her son know her feelings, either. She’d always been generous and supportive to Bethanne, making her feel like a beloved daughter in every way. Ruth had stood at Bethanne’s side through the divorce proceedings, convinced that Grant would one day realize his mistake.

Bethanne rushed impulsively across the street. She really didn’t have time and the ever-punctual Julia would be waiting. As it was, Bethanne had spent far longer with Lydia than she’d intended. In addition, she had a tight afternoon schedule that included a meeting with her managers. But Bethanne was determined to make time for the woman who’d once been such an enormous encouragement to her.

“Ruth?”

Her mother-in-law looked up from her soup and sandwich plate and instantly broke into a smile. “Bethanne, my goodness, I never expected to see you here.”

The two women hugged. “I was picking up some yarn I ordered. What are you doing in this neighborhood?” Bethanne pulled out the chair opposite Ruth’s and sat down.

Her mother-in-law placed both hands in her lap. “Robin suggested we meet here for lunch. It’s not that far from the courthouse, but you know Robin …”

“Has she left already?” Bethanne looked around, then down at Ruth’s barely touched plate.

“She didn’t show up,” Ruth said, coloring slightly. “I’m sure she got stuck in court…. ” Robin was with the Prosecuting Attorney’s office in Seattle, and frequently dealt with violent crime.

Bethanne frowned. “Did you call her?”

Ruth shook her head. “I refuse to carry a cell phone. They’re an intrusion on people’s privacy and—well, never mind. Although I will admit that at times like this a cell would come in handy.”

“Would you like me to phone?”

“Oh, would you, dear?” Ruth squeezed her hand gratefully. “I’d appreciate it.”

Digging in her purse, Bethanne found her cell. She had Robin’s number in her contacts and, holding the phone to her ear, waited for the call to connect. Robin’s phone went directly to voice mail, which meant she was probably still in court.

“I think you must be right,” Bethanne told Ruth.

The older woman exhaled. “I was afraid of that. I don’t know when we’ll have a chance to meet again before I leave.” Ruth straightened and picked up her sandwich. “But it doesn’t really matter, because my daughter is not going to change my mind.”

“Change your mind about what?”

Ruth lifted her chin. “Robin wants to talk me out of attending my fifty-year class reunion.” She took a determined bite of her turkey-and-bacon sandwich.

Why would her sister-in-law do such a thing? “I hope you go,” Bethanne said.

“I am, and nothing she says will convince me otherwise.” Bethanne had never seen Ruth so fired up.

“Good for you.” She watched in amusement as her ex-mother-in-law chewed with righteous resolve.

Swallowing, Ruth relaxed and sent Bethanne a grateful smile. “And I intend to drive to Florida by myself. That’s all there is to it.”

## Two

“Florida?” Bethanne repeated slowly. Her mother-in-law wanted to drive across the entire country? Alone?

“Oh, Bethanne, not you, too.” Ruth groaned. “I’m perfectly capable of making the trip.”

“Can’t you fly?” As far as she knew, Ruth didn’t have any fear of air travel.

“Of course I could, but what fun is that?” Ruth tossed her napkin on the table. “For years Richard promised me a cross-country trip. I’d spend days planning the route, and I’d write all my friends to tell them we were coming. Then invariably something would come up at Richard’s work.” Her lips tightened at the memory. “He canceled the trip three times until I finally gave up.”

Richard was a workaholic who hardly ever took vacations. He spent most weekends in the office of his engineering firm, missing countless baseball games and piano recitals. In fact, he died in that very same office. How long had he been gone now? Seven years, maybe eight, by Bethanne’s calculations.

Grant had taken his father’s death especially hard. They weren’t close but Grant had looked up to his father and respected his work ethic. As for Robin—well, she’d been cut from the same cloth as Richard. She’d married right out of law school, but divorced three years later. Robin was wedded to her job; there wasn’t room for anything or anyone else. Even her desire for a family had faded next to the demands and rewards of her meteoric career. The only time Bethanne actually saw her sister-in-law was at Christmas and that hadn’t happened in years, not since before the divorce. They did chat by phone every now and then, and Robin remembered to send cards and checks on Andrew’s and Annie’s birthdays. But she wasn’t involved in their lives—or anyone else’s, it seemed, except her colleagues’.

“I’m not getting any younger, you know,” Ruth went on, interrupting Bethanne’s musings. “If I’m going to see the country, I don’t feel I can delay it anymore. I wanted to ask Robin to accompany me but we both know that would be a waste of breath. I don’t think she’s taken more than a week off in the past ten years.”

Bethanne had nothing to add. Ruth was right; Robin would never go on a road trip with her mother, would never devote two or three weeks to family.

“In all these years, I’ve only been back to my hometown three times.” Ruth’s words were tinged with longing. “For my parents’ funerals and then once for a brief vacation. But I’ve kept in touch with several of my high school friends. Diane and Jane both came out to Seattle with their families to visit. When we were together, it was like we were teenagers all over again! I enjoyed it so much, and the reunion’s the perfect opportunity to see them. I’m determined to go.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Bethanne could tell that she wasn’t going to dissuade her. “Then you should do it,” she said mildly.

“I am,” Ruth insisted. “I’m leaving the first of June.”

“So soon?” Bethanne raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, the reunion’s on the seventeenth and that gives me plenty of time to see the sights. I’ve always wanted to visit Mount Rushmore and the Badlands. My grandparents originally settled in the Dakotas, you know.”

Bethanne didn’t want to discourage Ruth, but she did feel a twinge of anxiety about her traveling that distance by herself. She’d be an easy mark, especially alone.

Ruth fixed her with a stubborn glare. “Before you say anything, I want you to know I’ve rented a car since I’m planning to fly back, and I’ve already booked my flight from Florida to Seattle. So don’t even try to talk me out of this.”

Bethanne gave up the idea of arguing with her and instead patted the older woman on the arm.

“No one takes the time to travel by car anymore,” Ruth said plaintively. “Life is ‘rush here’ and ‘rush there.’ My children are grown, and I’m sorry to say they’re both a disappointment to me. I hardly ever see either Robin or Grant. I’m sixty-eight years old and—” Her voice cracked. “I am not old and I refuse to be treated like I’m too fragile to know my own mind.”

Bethanne reached across the table and clasped Ruth’s hand. She thought of Casey Goetz and the close relationship she had with Lydia’s mother. In a few years it might be difficult for Ruth to drive cross-country. It was either take this trip now or give up her long-held dream.

“I’ll go with you,” Bethanne said in a soft voice.

Ruth’s head shot up. “You?”

“I haven’t taken a vacation in years.” Aside from a few trips with the kids to visit relatives, her last real vacation had been with Grant. They’d gone to Italy to celebrate their tenth anniversary.

Ruth continued to stare at her, obviously at a loss for words.

“It would do me good to get away for a few weeks,” Bethanne said. “I have some decisions to make that I’d like to mull over. Getting away will give me a chance to do that.”

“You’re serious? You’d drive with me?”

“Of course.” Bethanne smiled at Ruth’s excitement.

“I want to see New Orleans!”

“I’d love that,” Bethanne said.

“And Branson, Missouri …”

“You, me and the Oak Ridge Boys,” Bethanne said, laughing now and feeling energized by her spur-of-the-moment decision.

“And Andy Williams,” Ruth moaned, crossing her hands over her heart.

“Fine, Andy Williams, it is.” Bethanne was gratified by Ruth’s reaction. “It might take me a couple of days to clear my desk,” she warned. Thankfully, Julia was more than capable of filling in for her.

“I don’t plan to leave until after Memorial Day,” Ruth said, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Oh, Bethanne, you don’t know how happy this makes me.”

“I’m happy, too,” she said, and she was. This spontaneous decision felt incredibly right. She needed time away to think about Grant’s recent overtures. She didn’t know if it was possible or even desirable for them to reconnect; after everything she’d been through, she could hardly imagine him in her life again. And yet … She couldn’t help wondering whether her feelings for Grant, the love that had survived the divorce, would be enough to sustain a second attempt at marriage. Could the woman she’d become find a place for him in the very different life she’d created?

“You’re sure about this?” Ruth pressed.

“Positive.”

Ruth studied her, frowning slightly. “You aren’t doing it out of pity, are you?”

“No.” Bethanne tried to hold back a smile.

“Well, I don’t care if it’s pity or not. I’m just grateful to have you along.”

And then she clapped her hands like a schoolgirl.

“Mom,” Annie cried the instant Bethanne walked into Parties’ Queen Ann Hill headquarters. The retail store was her very first location, and she’d quickly taken over the offices on the second floor. “Where have you been? Julia’s been waiting for half an hour, and the other managers are arriving in fifteen minutes!” “Sorry, sorry …” Bethannemumbled. “You didn’t answer your cell.” Annie was pacing Bethanne’s office like afretful cat. “I was with Grandma Hamlin.” Annie stopped pacing. “She’s okay, isn’t she?” “Never better.” Bethanne went into the supply cabinet and grabbed a yellow pad. Although Julia was already in the conference room, she picked up the messages on her desk and shuffled through them. She paused when she saw Grant’s name.

“Dad phoned,” Annie said from behind her. “I talked to him.”

Bethanne turned to face her daughter. To her relief, Annie and Grant had mended fences in the past couple of years; their once-close relationship had reemerged. Father and daughter had always been so much alike, both of them charmers, both of them stubborn to the point of inflexibility. Their reconciliation had really begun when Tiffany left Grant. Annie certainly hadn’t shed any tears over the breakup of that marriage. In fact, she’d had difficulty hiding her joy.

“I feel like Dad’s himself again these days,” Annie said earnestly.

“I’m glad,” Bethanne responded, returning her attention to the stack of phone messages.

“He’s working really hard to make it up to Andrew and me.”

Bethanne met her daughter’s gaze squarely. “He’s your father, and you two are the most precious things on earth to him.” She doubted Grant understood how close he’d come to losing his children during the years he’d made Tiffany his priority.

“Are you going to call him back?” Annie asked.

The slip was at the bottom of her pile. “I’ll do it when I have time,” Bethanne said firmly. “Now, I can’t keep Julia waiting any longer.”

As they hurried down the hallway, Annie said breathlessly, “Vance called this afternoon.”

Vance was her daughter’s college boyfriend. They’d dated on and off for almost three years. Bethanne knew Annie was serious about him, but she felt they were both too immature to even think about marriage. Despite her age and accomplishments, Annie still seemed so young to Bethanne. Perhaps it was a result of the divorce, but Annie’s attachment to both her and Grant struck her as a bit excessive—seeking them out for advice and approval at every turn. Bethanne wondered if she’d been that dependent on her parents when she was Annie’s age. She didn’t think so. However, she hadn’t had to cope with the disintegration of her family or the anger and grief it caused.

“Vance calls or texts at least six times a day,” Bethanne said. That might be an exaggeration but they seemed to be in constant communication.

“He asked me to dinner at the Space Needle!” Annie was practically vibrating with excitement.

Bethanne arched an eyebrow. “Are you two celebrating a special anniversary?”

“Not that I remember. And trust me, if anyone would remember, it’s me.”

Bethanne agreed. Like her father, Annie had extraordinary recall when it came to dates, facts and figures; she’d always been a top student in math and history. Bethanne thought of the endless memory games Annie and Grant loved to play on long car trips, egging each other on to greater and greater feats of recall.

“Then what’s the occasion?”

Her daughter’s eyes were wide. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask me to marry him,” she whispered.

Bethanne did an admirable job of hiding her dismay. “Really?”

Annie nodded. “When I mentioned something last week about Andrew and Courtney’s wedding, he told me he’s a big believer in marriage and family.”

“Family is important,” Bethanne said noncommittally.

“Yes, and we agree on practically everything—family, church, politics. Those are the important subjects, don’t you think?” Annie searched Bethanne’s face for confirmation.

“I do, but a single comment on the subject doesn’t mean Vance is ready to propose, Annie.” Bethanne’s voice was gentle, but inside she marveled at her daughter’s naiveté. She didn’t want Annie to set herself up for disappointment. A mother never outgrew her protective instincts, she realized.

“Oh, I know, but Nicole saw him at a jewelry store in the University District. It only makes sense that he was looking at engagement rings. Why else does a guy go to a jeweler?”

For any number of reasons, but Bethanne couldn’t bring herself to burst her daughter’s bubble. “When’s the hot date?”

“Friday night.”

“Fabulous. I hope everything works out.” Either way—engagement or not—she had concerns, but this wasn’t the time to discuss them.

“Thanks, Mom.” Annie just about skipped down the hall toward her own office.

“Annie,” Bethanne called out, stopping her. “I have a bit of news myself.”

Her daughter turned back, anxiety clouding her eyes.

“When I saw your grandma, she told me she’s planning to drive to Florida next week. I’ve decided to go with her.”

Annie’s mouth sagged open. “You and Grandma are driving to Florida?”

Bethanne laughed. “Don’t say it like that. We’re two mature women who can look after ourselves. Your grandmother’s wanted to make a road trip across the country nearly her entire adult life, and for one reason or another it’s always been put off. She’s determined to go—and I can’t let her go alone.”

“What about Aunt Robin?” As soon as the words were out, Annie shook her head. “Never mind. Aunt Robin wouldn’t take the time for that.”

Bethanne nodded. “It was a … sudden decision.”

“What about the business?” Annie nodded in the direction of the conference room, where the various store managers would soon be gathering.

“Julia can handle whatever comes up in the next few weeks,” Bethanne said calmly. “I’ll be accessible by phone and email, if she really needs me.”

Annie stared at Bethanne. “Wow, Mom, taking off on the spur of the moment—that isn’t like you.”

“True, but I’ve got a lot to think about right now, and this will give me a chance to weigh my options.”

“Does Dad know?”

“Not yet,” Bethanne said, waving as she hurried to the conference room. “I’m sure your grandmother will tell him when the time is right.”

The meeting with Julia was abbreviated due to the arrival of the managers. Afterward, Julia and Bethanne parted with a promise to catch up the following day. When she finally made it back to her office to return phone calls, Bethanne saved Grant’s for last. The commercial real estate market was still depressed across the country, but it had recently started to pick up in the Seattle area. As the broker in charge of one of his company’s most successful offices, Grant had significant responsibilities.

His assistant connected her immediately. “Bethanne,” he said, sounding grateful to hear from her.

“Hello, Grant. Annie told me you called.” She got right to the point; they were both busy people.

“Tell me, when did our little girl become such a dynamic young businesswoman?”

Bethanne smiled. “I believe she inherited her talent from you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Grant countered. “You’re the business powerhouse these days.”

Grant had always been skilled at making everyone feel special—like the most important person in the room—and it had served him well in his career. Now he was turning that charm on her, something he hadn’t done in years.

“I called about dinner on Friday. You never did say if you were available.”

She didn’t need a reminder; his invitation had been on her mind for the past three days.

“I thought we’d go to that little Mexican restaurant we used to like so much,” he went on, obviously—and correctly—interpreting her silence as hesitation.

“They’re still at the same location, can you believe it?” He laughed nervously. “What do you say? You and me, for old times’ sake?”

Bethanne closed her eyes, her knuckles white around the receiver. She was decidedly tired of that expression. “Not all our old times were that happy, Grant.”

“I know,” he was quick to admit. “But we do need to discuss Andrew’s wedding.”

“We can do that just as easily over the phone.”

“We could …” Grant conceded. “But I’d much rather do it over a margarita.” She heard him sigh. “You used to like yours on the rocks. Do you still prefer them that way?”

Bethanne couldn’t recall the last time she’d even had a margarita. Too many hours in the office and not nearly enough fun. “I suppose.”

“So, will you have dinner with me Friday night?” He wasn’t pleading, but she thought she detected a note of yearning in his voice.

She exhaled and, with her arm hugged tight around her middle, finally said, “All right.”

“I’ll pick you up—”

“I’ll meet you at the restaurant at seven,” she interjected, far more comfortable providing her own transportation.

“Seven,” he repeated, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. “See you then.”

## Three

Bethanne sat at her desk late Friday afternoon and reviewed the latest figures Julia had given her on the other five stores. She was fortunate that in a struggling economy, Parties continued to thrive. Julia had various suggestions she wanted Bethanne to consider, and in the past months Bethanne had come to rely on her more and more. If it wasn’t for her operations manager, she wouldn’t be able to take time off to travel with her mother-in-law.

In the years since the start-up of Parties, her business had experienced steady growth and, according to Julia, there was huge potential for the future as long as they were judicious about their finances and their expansion plans.

One of the benefits of her success was the knowledge that she could travel anyplace in the world she desired, something she’d long dreamed about. This was heady for Bethanne. She had good business instincts, as well as basic skills she’d learned watching her husband and his colleagues. Because her ideas were so innovative, she’d received more than her share of attention from the press. She kept copies of the articles written about her novel approach to parties.

Reaching for the folder, she leafed through it, scanning each news clipping and magazine article with a sense of pride and accomplishment. She paused at last year’s photograph of herself smiling at the camera, standing outside this building, which housed the original Parties. The photo was flattering. She was at her leanest, her shoulder-length brown hair turned up slightly at the ends. Not bad for forty-seven.

When she’d seen the picture, her thought had been that she looked happy. It was at that moment that she’d realized she was over Grant. Life did go on.

Soon after that photo was published with a profile of her in USA Today, Annie told her that Tiffany had left Grant and filed for divorce. A few days later, Grant had called to give Bethanne the news himself; it was the first time they’d spoken in months. He’d sounded depressed, and Bethanne had felt sympathetic. After all, she’d been there….

Grant. Her thoughts had turned to him often since his call earlier in the week. After years of forcing him from her mind, she found it uncomfortable to be entertaining memories of him now.

Bethanne checked her watch. If she was going to be on time to meet her ex-husband at Zapata’s, she needed to leave the office now. Because it was the start of the Memorial Day weekend, she was caught in heavy traffic and arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late.

As she entered the dining room, the scent of fried tortilla chips and spicy salsa triggered a wave of nostalgia. When they were first married, this hole-in-the-wall restaurant had been their favorite. They could order a bean burrito, plus two tacos with rice and beans, and split the dinner for $5.50, including tip. If they had extra money, they bought a single margarita with two straws.

It had been important to them both that Bethanne stay home with the children until they were in school. Once Annie went into first grade, Bethanne had been prepared to finish her degree and rejoin the workforce, but Grant had asked her not to. She was his partner, his support—and he liked having her available to manage the day-to-day tasks that allowed him to focus on his career. Bethanne had agreed; by then he was doing well financially and he always let her know how much he appreciated her support.

Seeing her across the room, Grant stood and waved. The small restaurant was crowded. Almost every seat was taken and the waitstaff angled between tables, carrying trays of drinks with chips and salsa. Mariachi music blared from the speakers.

Bethanne made her way over to Grant, who’d remained standing. He immediately helped her remove her jacket. He’d always been attentive about those gentlemanly details. He would open a door for her or pull out her chair as a matter of course—but he didn’t hesitate to rip out her heart.

Stop.

She refused to let the old bitterness overtake her. She’d never been the vindictive type, and she’d worked hard to put the past behind her.

“I ordered you a margarita,” Grant said as he slid her chair under her. She felt his hand graze her shoulder, lingering just a second beyond casual.

The warm chips and salsa were already there. Bethanne’s stomach growled as she reached for one, wondering if the salsa was still as spicy as she remembered. One bite assured her it was.

“The menu’s almost unchanged after all these years,” Grant said as he sat down across from her. He held her look for a moment before opening his menu again.

Obviously, this place brought back memories for him, too.

“I see the prices have changed,” she remarked, scanning her own menu. A picture of the Mexican general adorned the plastic front.

He smiled. “Well, I guess we can afford it now.”

Bethanne didn’t recognize any of the staff. The waitress brought two margaritas over ice, each with a thick ring of salt around the rim of the glass.

“At least we can have two drinks this time around,” Grant said, watching her lick the salt off her glass and take a sip.

His familiar use of we made it sound as if they were a couple again, but she didn’t react. “I hope the same holds true for dinner,” she said mildly.

“I believe anything you order will fit into my budget,” Grant murmured, still studying the selections.

“I don’t think I ever told you I don’t like bean burritos,” she blurted out.

“You don’t?” He sent her a shocked look over the top of his menu. “But … but we ordered it every time we came here.”

Bethanne said nothing. In their dozens of meals at Zapata’s, not once had he asked why she never ate her half of the burrito.

“I thought you were just being generous,” he said. “You know—saving more for me, the way you did for the kids.” He set down the menu, genuinely crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Bethanne, for being so oblivious.”

Bethanne was relieved that the waitress returned at that moment for their order. She chose the Tex-Mex salad, while Grant ordered chicken enchiladas and a bean burrito combination plate.

As soon as the waitress left the table, Bethanne took a long drink of her margarita, savoring the warmth spreading through her. She sat back in her chair and waited. Grant had asked for this meeting. She was curious to hear what he had to say.

“I’ve met Courtney a couple of times now,” he began, referring to their son’s fiancée. “I like her a great deal. She’s very down-to-earth, a good match for Andrew, I think.”

“I think so, too,” Bethanne murmured.

“I understand that Andrew and Courtney are planning the wedding themselves, and that you’re helping them, which makes sense.” It was rare to see Grant visibly nervous, but he seemed to be so now, fiddling with his silverware and avoiding eye contact. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to contribute.”

“You’ll need to take that up with Andrew and Courtney,” Bethanne said.

He nodded absently. They both knew that Andrew had ambivalent feelings toward his father. Bethanne felt a pang of sorrow for Grant. She knew he hoped the wedding would provide him with a means of getting closer to Andrew.

“So, is there anything I can do?” Grant asked.

“I’m not sure…. I’ve given Andrew and Courtney contact information and steered them toward people I trust.” The couple had made their own decisions, and while Bethanne had offered suggestions, this was their wedding. She’d walked a fine line, trying to advise them without being controlling.

“Weddings are expensive,” Grant observed.

“True enough.” Bethanne had seen people spend upward of thirty thousand dollars.

“I’d like to help financially.” He rested his hands on the table.

She sipped her margarita. “That’s kind of you, Grant, but you should be telling Andrew and Courtney this, not me.”

“I wanted you to know.”

“You’ve always been generous with the children,” Bethanne conceded. A slight exaggeration, but close enough to the truth.

“I almost lost them,” Grant muttered, staring at his hands. “I wasn’t sure, you know, if it was a good idea to tell Andrew I wanted to help financially … I thought it might be better coming from you.”

Bethanne waited until he met her eyes. “No, you tell Andrew,” she said. “He loves you, Grant. You’re his father.”

Grant bowed his head in a gesture of agreement or maybe just avoidance.

“Is that the reason you asked me to dinner?” she asked. Might as well be blunt—it would’ve saved her a lot of angst if he’d come right out and said so.

He didn’t answer for a moment. “I have something else I’d like to discuss,” he said quietly. She strained to hear him over the raucous mariachi music.

“What is it?”

“At the wedding … do you think—” He hesitated. “Would you object if the two of us sat together at the church? As Andrew’s parents?”

“Sat together?” Bethanne kept her expression neutral.

“Most divorced couples don’t,” he acknowledged.

“True.”

“I’d like to present a united front to our guests and, more importantly, to our families and our children.”

She tried not to grimace. He hadn’t been concerned about this “united front” when he’d abandoned them. Oh, why was it so hard to truly forgive? She was shocked by how easily her anger still surfaced, when she’d assumed that she’d moved past the pain.

“It won’t be awkward, if you think about it,” Grant reasoned. “You haven’t remarried and I’m single again. Wouldn’t it feel a bit odd for the two of us to sit separately?”

“You’re single now, but you haven’t always been,” she said tartly.

Grant stiffened. “All I’m asking is that you consider it. We’d sit together during the ceremony and stand together in the receiving line. If you agree, I’d appreciate it, but if not …” He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. “Well, if not—I’ll understand. I guess what I’m trying to say, and doing a rather poor job of it, is that I’ll accept whatever you decide.”

Bethanne couldn’t suppress her retort. “In other words, you want the world to know all is forgiven? That we’re still friends? That’s a noble thought, but I’m not sure it sends the right message.”

He looked down at his drink. “I know it may not be possible for you to ever completely forgive me.”

Bethanne felt a twinge of shame. She sighed heavily. “I apologize, Grant,” she said. “I don’t hate you. Really.” She’d given him twenty years of her life. He was the father of her children. And there was a part of her that still loved him.

Grant’s eyes flickered with hope. “Can we do that? The two of us together for Andrew’s sake on the most important day of his life?”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised.

“That’s all I ask,” he said, and didn’t raise the subject again.

Their meals arrived shortly afterward. Grant spooned salsa over his enchiladas. Bethanne remained silent as she waited for him to hand her the bowl.

“I understand Annie’s got a hot date tonight,” he said.

Although Annie rarely mentioned her conversations with her father, Bethanne knew the two of them spoke regularly these days.

“What’s your impression of Vance?” Grant asked, sliding his fork under the steaming enchilada.

Bethanne finished spooning salsa over her own dish as she gathered her thoughts. “He’s a good kid … a bit immature, I’d say.” She paused. “But then, so is Annie.” She took another sip of her drink. “He’s an archaeology major and graduated this year. As far as I know, he’s going to graduate school.”

“Annie seems to think he’s about to pop the question.”

“So she said.” Bethanne set her fork down. “Frankly, I feel they’re both too young for marriage. If they do become engaged, I hope they decide on a lengthy engagement.”

Grant frowned. “You don’t feel Vance is a good choice for our daughter?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you implied.”

Bethanne’s gaze was direct. “No, what I said is that I hope she’d have the sense to wait before making that kind of commitment.”

Grant took a bite of his enchilada. “Were we too young?”

She shrugged, uncertain how to answer. Like Annie and Vance, Bethanne and Grant had attended the same college. He was a business major and she’d been pursuing a degree in education. They’d met over the summer between her junior and senior year. From their first date, Grant Hamlin had become her entire world. They were engaged by Christmas, and while her parents liked Grant, they’d wanted them to delay the wedding until after Bethanne graduated.

Waiting, however, felt impossible. Grant was out of school and job-hunting. He was hired by Boeing in their corporate office, and with his first paycheck bought her an engagement ring.

Against her parents’ wishes, Bethanne dropped out of school just six months shy of graduation. From that point forward she’d dedicated her life to being a good wife and mother. She’d worked briefly in a department store, but only until Andrew’s birth.

“Too young?” she repeated his question. “Perhaps …”

They finished their meal quickly after that, avoiding awkward subjects. When they left the restaurant, Grant walked her to her car.

“I enjoyed dinner,” he said, standing beside her. “Did you?” The driver’s side door was open and she’d already thrown her purse on the passenger seat.

“I did.”

“And your dinner companion?”

She gave him a warning look: don’t push it. “Tonight brought back a lot of memories,” was all she said.

“It did for me, too.” He touched her car, tracing patterns in the dust. “We were happy, Bethanne,” he said, so softly she almost missed it.

She nodded, suddenly sad. “We were,” she agreed. “At one time.”

He tentatively raised his hands to touch the curve of her shoulders. “I’d give anything to take back the past six years,” he said, staring down at her.

“Make that seven,” she added. His affair with Tiffany had been going on long before he’d asked for the divorce.

“Seven,” he amended, and exhaled slowly. Then something in him seemed to deflate, and she read the regret in his eyes. “Tell me … is there any hope for us?”

As she considered his question, she saw him tense, as if anticipating a blow.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. Everything was just so confusing….

“Would it be possible to put the past behind us—forget about the divorce and pretend the past seven years never happened?”

“But they did.”

“I know,” he whispered brokenly. “If I could take away what I did to you and the kids, I would. I’d pay whatever it cost. If you wanted blood, I’d bleed. I’m miserable without you, Bethanne.” His words were heartbreaking in their sincerity. “Tell me you’d be willing to let me have a second chance. All I need is a sliver of hope.”

He wanted an answer … but as hard as she tried, Bethanne couldn’t give him one.

A lump formed in her throat. She had loved Grant … still did in certain ways that were tied to their shared past, to the memories of their marriage, the years of struggle and sacrifice, the happiness of companionship. And despite everything, they were linked forever through their children.

“Maybe,” she breathed.

He smiled then, and his shoulders relaxed. “That’s enough for now.”

## Four

Annie rummaged around inside her mother’s closet looking for the silver chain belt that would go perfectly with her Mexican-style skirt. When Vance came by to pick her up for dinner, she wanted him to be awestruck by her beauty. It wasn’t every day of the week that a girl got a marriage proposal—if that was what he intended. Annie thought so; all the evidence pointed to exactly that. Dinner at an expensive restaurant, being seen in a high-end jewelry store. What else was she to think?

She located the belt and wrapped it around her waist, checking her reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on her mother’s bathroom door. The mirror also reflected the queen-size bed her parents had once shared. Even after six years of living alone, her mother still slept on the right-hand side. Not in the middle.

Silly as it sounded, this gave Annie hope that her parents would one day reunite. It was what her father wanted most in the world. What Annie wanted, too. Her parents were meant to be together. Her father had made a terrible mistake, but he was sorry. More than anything he wanted to make it up to the family, and in Annie’s opinion they should let him.

It felt good to be close to her dad again. Now that the lovely Tiffany was gone, Annie felt there was real hope for a reconciliation between her parents. It just seemed wrong for them to live apart. The problem was getting her mother to recognize how sincere he was and take him back. Annie loved them both so much, and all she wanted was for them to be happy. What they did with their lives wasn’t really up to her, as Andrew pointed out with annoying regularity, but sometimes she felt she understood them better than they understood themselves.

The security alarm beeped, indicating that someone had entered the house. “Is that you, Mom?” Annie called down from the second-story hallway.

“Annie? What are you doing here?”

Annie had her own apartment near the University of Washington campus. “I came to borrow your silver belt. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you and Dad finished with dinner already?” she asked as she walked down the stairs.

“Yes, it didn’t take long.” Bethanne hung her jacket in the hall closet and smiled over at Annie. “You look fabulous.”

“You think so?” Confirmation from her mother meant everything.

“What time is Vance picking you up for dinner?” her mother asked, glancing at her watch.

“Eight-thirty. Our reservation isn’t until nine.”

“That’s a little late for dinner, isn’t it?”

Annie nodded. “Vance said that was the earliest he could get us a table. Every tourist visiting Seattle wants to eat at the Space Needle. Vance must have pulled a few strings to even get a reservation.”

Her mother considered the comment. “I didn’t realize Vance knew anyone with strings to pull.”

“Mom,” she protested. “Vance had classes with Matt, remember? And Matt buses tables at the Space Needle. Matt must’ve put in a word for Vance.”

“He must have.” Her mother walked into the living room, where she kept her knitting.

“How’re Courtney’s wedding gloves coming along?”

“So far so good.” Bethanne settled into her favorite chair. She had the pattern on a clipboard, held there by a magnet that marked her row. Her mother picked up her glasses, perching them on the end of her nose, and her knitting, which only had a few rows completed.

This was a far more complicated project than anything Annie would ever undertake. “I want you to knit something for my wedding, too, you know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else—when the time comes. If you want, you can take a look at the dress and veil I wore when I married your father. It’s yours should you choose to wear it.”

“Oh. Mom, could I really wear your wedding dress?”

“We’re about the same size, so I don’t see why not.”

Her parents’ wedding picture used to hang on the stairway wall. Annie had seen it practically every day of her life until after their divorce. She didn’t know where the photograph was anymore. The last time she’d noticed it, the glass had been cracked. She assumed her mother had broken it the morning her father announced he was in love with the lovely Tiffany.

Annie couldn’t quite remember what the wedding dress looked like. What she did recall was the joy on her mother’s face. She’d been such a young woman—younger than Annie—and a beautiful bride. Her father had been young, too, and so handsome. Annie had loved that photograph.

“It would make me happy if you decided to wear my wedding dress when you do get married.” Then, as if her mother wanted to change the subject, she said, “Oh, and thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not mentioning to your father that Grandma Hamlin and I are taking this road trip.”

Annie felt uneasy about the whole plan. The thought of her mother and grandmother traveling unescorted across the entire country, from Washington to Florida, sent chills down her spine. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Nonsense.” Her mother leaned forward and, using a yellow pen, marked off the row she’d just finished.

“You told Dad, didn’t you?” Annie asked. She hadn’t said anything about it because she was sure her mother would.

“Actually, no.”

“Mom!” Annie couldn’t believe her mother would keep this a secret. “Dad has a right to know what you’re doing.”

Bethanne glanced up from her knitting. “And why is that?”

“Because … because he might object.”

“Annie, sweetheart, I stopped listening to your father’s objections a long time ago.”

“But you’re going with Grandma!”

“Then she can tell him.”

What her mother said made sense, but Annie had the feeling her grandmother wasn’t going to let Grant or Aunt Robin know what she intended, either.

“If you aren’t going to say anything, then someone needs to let him know.”

Her mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do what you want, but as far as I’m concerned it isn’t any of his business.”

“Honestly, Mom, how can you say that?” Annie grabbed her sweater. “I’ve got to go. Wish me luck.” She held up her left hand and wiggled her ring finger, then rushed out the door.

Vance picked her up right on time and looked great in his slacks and plaid shirt with a button-down collar. He didn’t have a tie—he hated them—but that was fine. He’d wear a tuxedo for the wedding.

Annie had narrowed her bridesmaid choices down to five. She’d ask Courtney, her sister-in-law-to-be, and Libby, Belle, Jazmine and Maddy. Ideally, she’d like six or seven bridesmaids, but that would require the same number of groomsmen and make for an impossibly large wedding party. In any case, with everything she knew about organizing social gatherings, their wedding would be the event of the year.

Vance seemed unusually quiet as they drove to the Space Needle. He didn’t use valet parking, so they walked the short distance from the closest lot.

“Oh, Vance, this is a lovely idea,” she said, clutching his hand. He could be such a romantic.

He responded with a weak smile.

His hand was sweaty, and Annie realized Vance was nervous. She longed to hold on to every detail of this special night and keep them close to her heart. One day she’d tell their children about the evening their father proposed. These were the moments of which family stories were made.

After the elevator ride to the top of the Space Needle, they were seated at a table overlooking the city. The restaurant did a slow rotation, so that during the course of the meal, they’d be treated to a full view of Puget Sound, the Cascades to the east and the Olympics to the west, along with the Seattle city lights.

Staring at her menu, Annie was convinced she wouldn’t be able to eat a single bite until Vance got up the courage to propose. From the way he kept looking uneasily around and drinking from his water glass, she figured he might need some help.

“Tonight’s special, isn’t it, Vance?” she said as she set aside her menu.

“Very.” He smiled, but his eyes refused to meet hers.

“Are you … nervous about something?” This part would make a great addition to the story when she repeated it to their children.

“A little.”

“Vance, there’s no need. We know each other so well, there isn’t anything we can’t say.”

He glanced at her as if to gauge the truth of her words. “You’re sure about that?”

“Positively sure.” She offered him one of her brightest, most encouraging smiles.

“Maybe we should have dinner first.”

“Will you enjoy the meal if you put this off?” she asked gently.

He shook his head and his shoulders sagged. “Probably not.”

“Then why don’t we discuss what’s on your mind?” Maybe it would help if she told him she knew what he intended, but she decided not to ruin his moment. “I believe I know why you’re trying to make this night so special,” she said instead, hoping she didn’t sound coy. “Please, Vance, don’t be intimidated. Just ask me.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He braced his forearms on the edge of the table. “First, you know you’re the one for me, right?”

Annie’s heart beat just a little faster. “And you’re the man for me.” She stretched her arm across the table and Vance took her hand. His thumb stroked her wrist.

Thankfully, the waiter seemed to recognize that now was not the time to take their drink order. He started toward their table, then did a quick about-face.

“That’s why this decision has been so difficult,” Vance continued.

“Difficult?” Annie didn’t understand why giving her an engagement ring would be the slightest bit difficult.

“I’ve decided to go to Europe for a year.” The words came out in a rush as if he were gasping for air.

“Europe? A year?” she repeated in confusion.

“With Matt,” Vance elaborated.

“Matt? The same Matt who got you the reservation for tonight? That Matt?”

Vance nodded. “We’ve been talking about it for months,” he said excitedly, “and we both felt that if we were ever going to do it, this is the time. I’ve got my graduation money and Matt’s been saving up what’s left over from his paycheck. We plan on staying in hostels and traveling from country to country by train. There’s even a chance we might be able to work on a dig near Ephesus. That’s in Turkey.”

“I know where Ephesus is,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Right … sorry. You’re not upset, are you?”

This was a joke. It had to be. Only, she wasn’t laughing and Vance seemed about to bolt.

“I wanted to make sure you know I love you,” Vance went on. “And … and I didn’t want you to hear from anyone else that Jessie Olivarez is going with us. She’s Matt’s girlfriend and an archaeology major, too, but I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding. Like, I don’t want you to think I’m dating Jessie because I’m not. I’m in love with you.”

“Jessie?” Vance and Matt were taking a girl with them. “Jessie Olivarez is traveling with you?” They’d met twice, and Annie found her clingy and immature.

“I knew you couldn’t take that much time out of your life,” Vance said. “You’ve got your brother’s wedding and another year of school. Besides, you’re working with your mom, and that would make it hard to leave for so long.”

“You could have asked!”

“I was going to, but … well, you know, you’ve got responsibilities and you’d constantly be on the phone checking in with your mother.”

“Are you suggesting my mother and I are joined at the hip?” Talk about adding insult to injury!

“No … no. Annie, please, there’s no need to raise your voice.” He glanced nervously around them.

Seething on the inside, Annie closed her eyes in an effort to control her raging emotions. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she finally muttered.

“I know it’s a shock and everything,” Vance responded, sounding calm now, “but I brought you here because I wanted our goodbye dinner to be special.” After what was obviously meant to be a significant pause, he said, “I feel our love is strong enough to wait a year, don’t you?”

She didn’t answer right away. She could barely take in that he didn’t have an engagement ring in his pocket, let alone the fact that he planned to travel in Europe with his friend and another woman.

“You went to University Jewelers,” she mumbled. She’d assumed that meant he was going to propose. She’d assumed—

“I did?” He frowned and then relaxed. “Oh, yeah. My mom asked me to drop off her watch for repair. It was still under warranty.”

Annie wadded up the linen napkin on her lap. “When do you leave?” She would be adult about this. Okay, fine, he wasn’t asking her to marry him. Instead, he wanted her to twiddle her thumbs for a year while he explored Europe with Matt and Jessie Olivarez. Jessie Olivarez!

“Actually … the three of us are flying out tomorrow night. Do you think you could drop us off at the airport?”

He was out of his mind.

“Matt’s father was going to do it, but he forget and made other plans.”

“You want me to drive you and another girl to the airport?” The insensitive jerk!

“If you could. It’d be a big help and that way you can see me off.”

She’d see him off, all right. “I don’t think so,” she said, then leaned down and reached for her purse.

“You’re upset, aren’t you?”

Clearly Vance had talents she never knew. Now he was a mind reader as well as a jerk. “What was your first clue?” she asked sweetly.

“But you said there wasn’t anything we couldn’t discuss! Come on, Annie, it’s only a year.”

“It’s more than the fact that you’re going to Europe, Vance. You’ve been planning this for a long time. Didn’t you even think to mention it to me?” By his own admission, this trip had been in the works for months.

He did look slightly guilty. “I wanted to tell you, but Matt said it would just cause problems. I can see he was right.”

Annie stood and threw her napkin on the table. “Have a great time, and when you get back, don’t bother to call. We’re done.”

“Annie,” he cried, “you don’t mean that!”

“Wanna bet?” They had the attention of half the restaurant. The entire room seemed to go quiet. Not wanting to be the subject of anyone’s dinner conversation, Annie ran toward the elevator. A line had formed, waiting to be taken down to street level.

Vance hurried after her. “I was afraid you were going to be upset. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but Matt said—”

“I already know what Matt said.” Annie crossed her arms and stared fixedly at the elevator door, willing it to open. Pressing her lips together, she did her best to ignore him. There was nothing Vance had to say that she wanted to hear.

“Come on, Annie. I hate leaving when you’re upset with me.”

She turned her back and looked in the opposite direction.

“Annie, please.”

What was taking the elevator so long? All she could think about was escaping Vance as quickly as possible.

“Okay, fine, be mad.”

She didn’t need any encouragement from him.

“Give me the silent treatment. See if I care.”

She pretended not to hear.

“All I want to know is if this means you won’t be driving us to the airport.”

She whirled around, shocked that he could even ask.

“Well?” He spoke with an air of defiance.

She shook her head. “No, Vance, I won’t be driving you to the airport, but have a nice trip. In fact, have the time of your life because that’s certainly what I intend to do.”

The elevator arrived and, after it emptied, the line moved forward. Annie stepped inside and, just before the doors closed, she took one last look at Vance, standing in front of her, still holding the black linen napkin in his hand. She gave him a short, sarcastic wave.

“Ta-ta,” she said as the door glided shut.

## Five

The phone rang, waking Bethanne from a sound sleep. No one called in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency. Caller ID indicated her daughter’s name. With nervous, uncooperative fingers Bethanne answered. “Hello?”

“Mom!” Annie wailed.

Shifting into a sitting position, Bethanne rubbed her eyes. “Annie, what’s wrong?”

Annie tried to speak but Bethanne couldn’t understand a word she said. And what she did grasp made no sense. “Vance is going away?” Bethanne asked.

“To Europe with Jessie.”

This came out in a screech, which led Bethanne to believe Jessie was most likely a girl. So tonight’s dinner at the Space Needle wasn’t the marriage proposal Annie had so eagerly anticipated. While Bethanne was grateful, she hurt for her daughter.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“I … He actually wanted me to drive them to the airport. Can you believe that?” The anger was coming through loud and clear. “He said he couldn’t ask me to go to Europe with him because I had another year of school and … and responsibilities.”

“Everyone has responsibilities,” Bethanne said, stifling a yawn.

“I … Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“This is what it was like when Daddy told you about … the lovely Tiffany, isn’t it? You didn’t know, you didn’t even suspect. You were completely oblivious to what was going on right in front of you. Well, so was I.” She sniffed loudly. “I feel so stupid.”

“Oh, Annie.”

“How could Vance be so insensitive?”

Bethanne remembered the shocked, numb sensation that had come over her when Grant left. Unlike her, Annie didn’t have a twenty-year marriage; still, she’d just been given a small taste of what Bethanne had experienced.

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can I go to Florida with you and Grandma Hamlin?”

“Uh …”

“I can’t bear to stay here alone.”

Bethanne resisted the urge to remind her that Grant and her brother would be in town. And she had lots of friends. Annie was far from being alone. On the other hand, having her accompany them wasn’t a bad idea. “I’m sure your grandmother will be fine with it, and I’d love to have you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, still sniffling.

“Do you want to come home and sleep in your old room?” Bethanne asked, thinking that what Annie really needed was to feel loved and protected.

“No … I’ll be okay now.”

“If I could, I’d give you a big hug.”

“I know. You’re the best mom in the world.”

Bethanne smiled sleepily.

“Thanks, Mom … Would you call Grandma in the morning and ask her?”

“Of course.”

“And I’m telling Dad, too.”

“If that’s what you want, go ahead.” Bethanne had no objection to Grant’s knowing her plans but she felt no obligation to tell him herself.

They spoke for a few more minutes and then Bethanne replaced the phone. Resting her head on the pillow, she closed her eyes, trying to go back to sleep.

This would be a fascinating trip across the country now that both her ex-mother-in-law and her daughter were coming…. Well, interesting at any rate. Bethanne drifted off as she began to make mental lists of the clothes she needed to pack and the people she needed to call.

Saturday morning she woke later than usual. Although it was a holiday weekend, she had a hundred things to take care of at work if they were going to head out early Wednesday morning.

After showering and dressing, she set off for the office. She’d wait until after ten to call Ruth regarding Annie.

While she was driving in Seattle traffic, her cell phone rang. The readout on her dashboard showed Ruth’s name and number.

Bethanne pushed a button on her steering wheel to answer the phone, and Ruth’s voice came through.

“Bethanne, where are you?”

“I’m in my car. What can I do for you, Ruth?”

“Would it be too much trouble to stop by the house this morning sometime … soon? I really hate to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. I’ll leave now.”

“How long will that take you?”

“Oh, about ten minutes, fifteen at the most. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, I … think so.” Her voice wavered slightly, indicating that everything wasn’t all right.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” Ruth whispered gratefully.

When Bethanne pulled up to the Hamlin family home, she saw two cars in the driveway. The first belonged to Grant, and the second she guessed was Robin’s. Brother and sister were double-teaming their mother. The poor woman needed backup.

Bethanne rang the doorbell, then let herself into the house. “Hello, anyone home?” she called out.

Ruth appeared immediately, and the relief that spread over her features the instant she saw Bethanne was almost comical. The older woman rushed across the room to grab Bethanne’s elbow. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she whispered.

“Bethanne,” Robin said in the tone she probably used to intimidate witnesses in the courtroom. “Tell me you aren’t serious about driving cross-country on some ludicrous scheme of my mother’s.”

At one time Robin might have intimidated her, too, but no longer. With a cool smile, Bethanne faced her. “Personally, I don’t think attending a fifty-year class reunion is all that ludicrous.”

Grant stood by the fireplace and seemed content to let his sister do the talking.

Robin didn’t give up. “You two don’t have a clue what you could be getting yourselves into. It isn’t safe out there. You’re both much too trusting. I simply can’t allow my mother—”

“I didn’t ask your permission,” Ruth told her daughter stiffly. She raised her chin to signal that she wouldn’t be browbeaten, nor would she change her mind. Robin could disapprove all she liked.

“Mother, for once be sensible.”

“Sensible?” Ruth repeated. “I’ve been nothing but sensible. It’s my life, and at sixty-eight I should be able to do what I want, when I want. If I choose to drive to Florida, then I will.”

“And I’m accompanying her.” Now might not be the best time to mention that Annie was tagging along, so she held back that information. “You don’t have a thing to worry about. We’ll be fine.”

Robin looked up at the ceiling as though her patience had reached its limit. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Then, turning to Grant, she added, “A little help from you certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

“I figured you were doing well enough without me,” he said, grinning at Bethanne and his mother.

Ruth and Bethanne stood side by side, with their arms linked.

Ruth looked at her children. “Really, there’s no reason to worry. I have the route planned out, I joined AAA and I’ve made hotel reservations. I’ve rented a car, which I’m dropping off in Florida, and we’re flying back. I’m sure I’ve thought of everything.”

“Do you have a list of your medications?”

Ruth frowned. “I take one blood-pressure pill and that’s it—oh, and I have eyedrops. It isn’t like I need a permission slip from my physician to travel. You’re grasping at straws. Furthermore, you’re treating me like a child. I can take care of myself.”

“The roads aren’t safe,” Robin insisted, “especially for two women traveling alone.”

Again Ruth frowned. “If someone does kidnap and murder me, as you seem to expect, you can rest assured that I died happy.”

“Oh, honestly, Mother.”

“What about Bethanne?” Grant asked. “If she’s kidnapped and murdered, how would you feel then?”

“I’ve had three karate lessons,” Ruth said facetiously. “I’ll defend her.”

Grant burst out laughing. Robin, however, didn’t seem to find anything her mother said the least bit amusing.

“Fine.” Robin pointed an accusing finger at Bethanne. “Just know that if anything happens to my mother because you were foolish enough to fall in with this crazy scheme of hers, I’m holding you directly responsible.”

Bethanne tightened her hold on Ruth’s arm. “I accept full responsibility for your mother.”

“No, you don’t,” Ruth protested. “I’m responsible for myself. Besides, if anything did happen, it would be just like my daughter to file a lawsuit against you.”

“No, she won’t,” Grant said, glaring across the room at his sister.

“Don’t count on it,” Robin said, glaring right back. She crossed her arms as if waiting for them to capitulate. In that case, Bethanne hoped Robin was a patient woman because she had no intention of backing down. And she was sure Ruth wouldn’t, either.

After a tense moment, Robin dropped her arms. “Okay, fine. Risk your life. Grant, if you weren’t going to support me in this, you should never have come.”

“Actually, I think I should be the one to drive them,” he said.

“No way.” If Ruth agreed to that, Bethanne was counting herself out right then and there. She wanted to get away, reflect, consider the possibility of a future with Grant. She could only do that if he wasn’t trying to influence her. Having him along was out of the question.

Ruth looked from one to the other. “You’d do that, son?”

“I’d need to make arrangements with the office and I might have to change the dates, but if this is important to you, Mom, I’d make it work.”

“Then you won’t need me,” Bethanne said, starting to withdraw her arm from Ruth’s.

Her mother-in-law held her tight. “Check that computer phone thing you always have with you,” Ruth said. “Tell me when you’d be free for two entire weeks to drive me all the way across the country.”

Grant took out his iPhone and scrolled down the screen. “Like I said, I’d need to make a few phone calls, rearrange some appointments …” he said slowly. “The second and third weeks of August would be manageable.”

“That’s too late,” Ruth told him. “The class reunion is June 17 and I’m going to be there.” She looked pointedly at Robin. “It doesn’t matter what scare tactics you use. I won’t let tales of renegade truckers and biker gangs intimidate me. Bethanne and I are leaving on schedule and nothing you say is going to change that.”

“Now, Mom, you can fly out for the reunion and we can drive back again in August,” Grant suggested. “That way—”

Ruth shook her head. “I heard all those promises from your father. Year after year he said we’d drive across the country, but something always interfered. It did with Richard and it will with you. No, Grant, my mind is made up.”

“And so is mine,” Bethanne added for emphasis.

“Then I say—” Grant turned to his sister with a shrug “—that we let them go.”

“Like either of them could stop us,” Ruth muttered.

Bethanne grinned and, leaning close, whispered, “Annie wants to join us.”

“Annie,” Ruth said aloud. “Why, that’s a wonderful idea!”

His daughter’s name instantly caught Grant’s attention. “What’s this about Annie?”

“She phoned last night and asked to come with us.”

Instead of objecting, as she’d half expected, Grant broke into a wide smile. “I agree with Mom. Bringing Annie with you is a good idea.”

This was an interesting development. Bethanne had assumed that once he learned Annie intended to accompany them, it would be all the excuse he needed to demand they fly.

Robin stared at her brother as though he’d taken leave of his senses. “I give up,” she said, grabbing her briefcase and her purse. “I can see I’m fighting a losing battle. I have a meeting, so I won’t waste any more time here.” She stalked toward the door.

“Robin,” Bethanne said, halting her progress.

“Yes?” she snapped, whirling around.

“You might want to wish your mother and me a good trip.”

But Robin just rolled her eyes and left the house, slamming the screen door on her way out.

As soon as his sister was gone, Grant started laughing. “Well, she was in rare form, wasn’t she?”

Bethanne hugged Ruth, who had begun to tremble. “Everything’s okay, Ruth. We’re going on the trip of a lifetime.”

Grant waited until they’d finished hugging before he spoke. “You didn’t mention this last night when we had dinner.” The comment was filled with accusation.

“Was there any reason I should?”

“You’re planning to drive across the country with my mother,” he said. “Didn’t you think Robin and I were entitled to know?”

This was a repeat of the conversation she’d had with Annie. “It was up to Ruth to mention it, not me,” she told him, unwilling to be chastised by her ex-husband.

Grant’s response was a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything else.

“I was afraid Robin would make a fuss,” Ruth said. “I wish now I’d kept my mouth shut.”

Bethanne agreed it would’ve been preferable had Ruth waited until they were on the road, but that seemed a bit underhanded.

“If I can, I’d like to ask one thing of you,” Grant said, obviously deciding on a more conciliatory approach. “I’d feel better about the three of you being on the road if you’d call me at least once a day.”

“We could do that,” Ruth said, eager to make peace with her family.

“Will you?” Grant posed the question to Bethanne.

“I’m sure Ruth and Annie would be happy to keep in touch,” she said curtly, reluctant to add her name to the list. The idea of calling her ex-husband didn’t sit well with her, despite his unexpected support.

Grant held her look. “I won’t be able to relax if I don’t know that the three most important women in my life are safe.”

“We’ll check in,” Bethanne eventually promised.

“Thank you.”

Bethanne drove to the office a few minutes later, but for the rest of that day, she couldn’t get Grant out of her mind. She had to appreciate the fact that he hadn’t joined forces with his sister against them. His concern for Ruth, Annie and her seemed genuine. She’d given him a glimmer of hope that a reconciliation was possible; the idea didn’t seem as repugnant to her as it once had and that, she guessed, was a good sign.

At her desk, she made all the necessary arrangements to leave the office for a few weeks. She went home at five that afternoon, slightly depressed at the prospect of an empty house, and wondered what it would’ve been like if Grant had been there waiting for her with a glass of wine and a welcoming smile.

## Six

“Finally! We’re actually on the road,” Ruth marveled as they reached the summit of Snoqualmie Pass, crossing the Cascade Mountains. They were a little more than an hour outside Seattle, heading due east.

Ruth had the map supplied by AAA spread out on her lap and acted as navigator while Bethanne drove. Annie had claimed the backseat; she’d been suspiciously quiet since they’d left Seattle. Bethanne knew Vance had deeply hurt and disappointed her daughter. The fact that he’d decided to travel in Europe for a year—and hadn’t bothered to tell her—could only feel like a betrayal. Bethanne hoped that spending these weeks with her grandmother and with her would help. Annie was still young. In time she’d recognize that Vance’s leaving was the best thing that could have happened.

She remembered when she’d told her parents she wanted to marry Grant. Her family, especially her father, had urged Bethanne to complete her education first. With just one semester to go before she obtained her degree, he’d argued that it made sense to put off the wedding. Bethanne, however, had been unwilling to listen, unwilling to wait a day longer than necessary to be Grant’s wife. And she’d refused to be separated from him; the university was in the town of Pullman in eastern Washington, while he was working in Seattle. She’d finish school later—only she never had.

In retrospect, it had all worked out, but if she’d had her teaching degree who knows how different her life might have been. One thing was sure; with a career of her own, or at least the qualifications for one, she wouldn’t have felt so completely vulnerable when Grant asked for a divorce.

Annie’s situation was different to that extent, anyway. She’d graduate the following year with a business degree. She’d gotten practical experience working at Parties and that would serve her well.

Annie stirred in the backseat, sitting up and yawning. She removed the iPod earbuds and stretched her arms to the side, arching her back. “Where are we?”

“Just over the pass,” Bethanne told her.

“Already?”

“Have you been asleep?”

“I think I was,” Annie murmured sadly. “I haven’t had much sleep the past few nights.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“Vance, Matt and Jessie got off okay,” she muttered with no degree of pleasure. “They ended up getting a cab. He sent me a text from the airport and said he’d keep in touch.”

Bethanne suspected Vance’s effort to communicate wouldn’t last long. If the tone of Annie’s voice was any indication, she’d figured that out, too. Vance would stay in touch for the first few weeks, and then all his good intentions and promises would fall by the wayside. Frankly, Bethanne was just as glad, although she’d never tell Annie that.

“Where are we spending the night?” Annie asked, leaning forward and thrusting her head between Bethanne and Ruth in the front seat.

“I have a reservation in Spokane,” Ruth answered.

“Spokane?” Annie repeated. “That’s only five hours from Seattle. Can’t we drive farther than that?”

Ruth looked over at Bethanne. “When I made these arrangements I intended to travel alone. I estimated that between four and six hours on the road would be my limit. I wanted to make it a leisurely trip.”

“We’ve been to Spokane at least a dozen times,” Annie complained. “I’ve seen everything there is to see.”

Bethanne had, as well. “This is your grandmother’s trip, Annie,” she reminded her daughter. “If Grandma Hamlin wants to spend the night in Spokane, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Okay.” Annie slumped back and folded her arms. “Does the hotel have a swimming pool?”

“I don’t know.” Ruth flipped open her itinerary.

“Tell me the name of the hotel and I’ll look it up on my phone.”

“You can do that?” Ruth sounded impressed.

“As long as they have a website I can.”

Ruth gave Annie the hotel name, and Annie immediately started clicking away. Judging by her sigh, the hotel was pool-less.

“We’ll have lunch, and then check out the local attractions. There’s a mall close by, isn’t there, and a movie theater? No reason we have to stay in the room.” Bethanne offered what she hoped were helpful suggestions.

She assumed they’d reach Spokane a little after one. The truth was, Bethanne agreed with Annie. She was certainly willing to drive beyond Spokane. However, this was Ruth’s trip, as she’d pointed out, and she was reluctant to do anything that would diminish her mother-in-law’s enjoyment. Ruth had waited years for this opportunity, so Bethanne refused to cheat her out of even one second of her carefully planned adventure.

“I … I suppose we could go a bit farther,” Ruth murmured after a while. “I’m anxious to get to Florida.”

“Have you heard from anyone there?” Bethanne asked.

“Just Jane and Diane.”

“Wow, fifty years,” Annie said. “That’s a long time.”

“It is.” Ruth nodded slowly. “The funny thing is, it doesn’t seem that long ago—it really doesn’t.”

“How many years has it been for you, Mom?”

“Let me see. I graduated in …” Bethanne quickly calculated the years, astonished that it’d been twenty-nine years since she’d left high school. “Twenty-nine years,” she whispered, hardly able to believe it.

“Did you ever go to your reunions?”

Annie certainly seemed to be in an inquisitive mood. “No. Your father—” Bethanne paused, about to lay the blame at Grant’s feet. While it was true that Grant hadn’t been enthusiastic about attending her high school functions—or, for that matter, his own—she’d consented. She could’ve gone by herself, and hadn’t. It wasn’t like Eugene, Oregon, was all that far from Seattle. “No, I never did,” she said.

Her father, an English professor now retired, had taught at the University of Oregon. Her mother had died a couple of years ago. Bethanne was proud of the way her father coped with being a widower. Despite his grief he hadn’t given up on life; in fact, he was currently in England with a group of students on a Shakespearean tour.

They spoke and emailed regularly, and she’d recently learned that he was dating. Her father had a more active social life than she did, which actually made her smile.

“Wasn’t Dad born in Oregon?” Annie asked.

“Yes, in Pendleton,” Ruth confirmed. “Richard and I were newlyweds, and he was working on a big engineering project there. I don’t remember exactly what it was now. We moved around quite a bit the first few years we were married.”

“How far is Pendleton from here?”

“Oh, dear, I wouldn’t know.”

“I’d like to see the town where Dad was born,” Annie said. “Couldn’t we spend the night there instead?” She reached for her phone again. “It would mean we’d need to change our route, but it wouldn’t be that much out of our way.”

“We were only in Pendleton for the first year of his life,” Ruth said.

“Do you have any friends living there?” Annie pressed, but before Ruth could answer, she asked another question. “I’ll bet it’s been ages since you connected with them, isn’t it?”

“Well, that was forty-nine years ago. I’m sure they’ve moved on.”

“What are their names?” Annie’s fingers were primed and ready as she held her cell phone. “I’ll look them up and find out for you.”

“Annie,” Bethanne warned. Her daughter seemed to be taking control of the trip.

“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up and we can spend the night in Spokane and sit around the hotel room all afternoon.”

Bethanne cast Ruth an apologetic look.

“I had a friend by the name of Marie Philips.” Ruth’s voice was tentative, uncertain. “She was married and a young mother herself. Her parents owned a small café on the outskirts of town. I’m sure it’s long gone by now.”

“We need to eat, don’t we?” Annie said triumphantly.

“The café might not even be in business anymore,” Bethanne felt obliged to remind her.

“Is her name listed on that computer phone of yours?” Ruth asked, sounding more interested by the minute.

Bethanne could hear Annie typing away.

“P-h-i-l-i-p-s?” Annie spelled it out. “With one L?”

“Yes. The café was where the bus stopped, too. They served the most wonderful home cooking. Marie was a real friend to me, but we lost contact after Richard and I moved.”

“What was the name of the café?”

“Oh, dear.” Ruth shook her head. “I don’t remember, but I do know where it is … or was.”

“So, can I see the town where Dad was born?” Annie asked eagerly. “Even if we spend the night in Spokane, I’d still like to visit Pendleton.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t,” Ruth said, apparently catching Annie’s enthusiasm. “My goodness, I haven’t thought of Marie in years. She had a son around the same age as Grant. I wonder what became of him. Marie had an older boy, as well. Like I said, she was so helpful to me. She’s one of those salt-of-the-earth people.” Ruth seemed immersed in her memories.

Bethanne continued driving in silence. They passed Ellensburg and were headed toward the bridge that spanned the mighty Columbia River, on the way to Moses Lake. All of this was familiar territory. If they made the decision to go to Pendleton, they’d need to change course after crossing the bridge.

Annie was still typing. “The Pendleton directory lists a Marie Philips.”

“It does?” Ruth’s voice rose excitedly. “Let’s call her.”

Annie called and left a message on the woman’s voice mail. When she’d finished, she asked, “Do you want me to see about changing our hotel reservations?”

“I’ve already made a deposit at the hotel in Spokane,” Ruth lamented.

Bethanne hated to admit it, but even she was disappointed. She was enjoying the drive and it did seem a waste of time to arrive in Spokane for lunch and call it a day.

“It’s a chain hotel,” Annie said. “If there’s one in Pendleton, I bet they can switch reservations without a penalty.”

Ruth was quiet for a moment. “Okay, call and see if the hotel is willing to do that.”

“When you’re ready, give me the phone number.”

Ruth rattled it off. Annie got through right away and made the arrangements. She disconnected, saying, “Done. The manager told me it wasn’t a problem.”

“That’s great,” Bethanne said, pleased her daughter was so technologically savvy. She had the same phone as Annie and Grant but couldn’t do nearly as much with it. The problem was that she hadn’t made the effort to learn. It seemed that whenever she got comfortable with her phone, it was time to upgrade and she’d have to learn a whole new process.

“I wonder what Marie’s doing these days,” Ruth said thoughtfully.

“Well, we’ll find out,” Annie responded.

“We can have a light lunch when we hit the Tri-cities,” Bethanne suggested, “and once we reach Pendleton we can look for the café your friend’s family owned.”

“I’d like that,” Ruth said, “but we all know there’s no guarantee the café will still be there.”

“Right, but we can look, can’t we?” Annie said. “Then, after we eat, can you show me the house you lived in when Dad was born?”

“Sure thing,” Ruth said, “but again you have to remember that was a long time ago.”

Bethanne didn’t understand Annie’s sudden interest in her father’s birthplace. Ruth, however, seemed happy to stroll down memory lane. Annie was encouraging her, and this exchange of questions and anecdotes was probably good for both of them.

Annie’s cell phone rang when they stopped for lunch in Richland. They found a chain restaurant off the freeway and each ordered soup.

“Oh, hi, Dad,” Annie said, and her gaze immediately went to Bethanne. “Yeah, we’re in Richland.” She smiled and added, “We made good time. Mom’s driving—and guess what?”

Bethanne was determined not to listen, but she couldn’t avoid hearing Annie’s side of the conversation.

“Mom’s right here. Do you want to talk to her?”

Bethanne shook her head vigorously. Annie ignored her reaction and handed over the cell.

Reluctantly, Bethanne accepted it. “Hello, Grant,” she said without enthusiasm.

“You turned your cell phone off,” he said, although his words lacked any real censure.

“I’m driving,” she pointed out. The rental car didn’t have a Bluetooth connection.

“That’s what Annie said.”

Silence.

“How’s it going so far?”

“Fine.” She resisted telling him that they’d left just that morning and were only about two hundred miles from Seattle.

“What’s this I hear about you spending the night in Pendleton? Did you know I was born there?”

If she’d forgotten, she’d received plenty of reminders in the past few hours. “Annie mentioned it.” Bethanne wondered if Grant had put their daughter up to this. She was well aware that Annie had her own agenda. But then, perhaps she was becoming paranoid.

“I hoped you’d call and check in every now and then,” he said in a hurt-little-boy voice that was meant to elicit sympathy.

“You should talk to Annie or your mother,” she told him. “If you’d like, I’ll remind Ruth to check in with you or Robin every day so you can rest assured that all is well.”

“Yes, please do.”

“Here’s your mother.” She passed the phone across the booth to her mother-in-law.

Annie waited until their soup arrived before she spoke. “Honestly, Mom, you could be a bit friendlier to Dad.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You know how he feels.”

Bethanne did. “This is about more than feelings, Annie.”

“At least let him prove himself. You don’t need to be so …” She couldn’t seem to find the right word. “Unfriendly,” she said, repeating herself.

“Did I sound short with your father?” she asked.

“A little.”

Bethanne looked at Ruth, who shrugged. “Just a tad, honey.”

Bethanne exhaled and forced herself to remember that she was traveling with two of his staunchest advocates.

“Is there any possibility the two of you might reconcile?” her ex-mother-in-law asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Of course there’s a chance,” Annie answered on Bethanne’s behalf. “There’s always a chance, right, Mom?”

Bethanne took her time answering, apparently longer than Annie liked, because both her daughter and Ruth stopped eating and stared at her intently. “Yes, I suppose there is,” she finally agreed.

## Seven

“Look, the café’s still there!” Ruth called from the backseat. Annie had been driving since Richland, with Bethanne knitting beside her. Ruth leaned forward, thrilled about the opportunity to see her old friend again. When she’d met Marie, she’d been pregnant, away from family and friends, and in a marriage that hadn’t started out in the most positive way.

They’d moved to Pendleton because that was where Richard’s first job was. He’d wanted to make a good impression on his employer; he’d been young, ambitious and eager to prove his worth. Her husband of less than a year had worked long days, abandoning Ruth to countless hours alone in a rental house in this town where she didn’t know a single soul. Meeting her neighbor, Marie, had been a lifesaver. Ruth had needed a friend, a connection with someone. She hadn’t really been prepared for the pregnancy, and she suffered from violent bouts of nausea that lasted through most of the day.

Not only did Marie become her friend, she’d taken Ruth under her wing, recommended her own obstetrician and driven Ruth to and from her first few appointments. She’d shared baby clothes and maternity outfits with her. Best of all, she’d taken time for long afternoon chats, despite the fact that she had children of her own and often helped her parents at the roadside restaurant.

Ruth had lived in Pendleton for only a couple of years, but she never forgot Marie, even though her own life had changed—and improved—soon after. The effort to stay in touch lasted several Christmases but eventually they’d lost contact. Still, Marie’s friendship had brought her comfort and support all those years ago.

The café sat back from the road, surrounded by a gravel parking lot, just outside the Pendleton city limits. The white paint had long since grown dingy, and the windows looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in months. A sign out front announced Home Cooking.

“Looks like it’s still in business,” Ruth said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

“I told you this was a good idea,” Annie said. “You’re glad we came this way, aren’t you, Grandma?”

“Very glad,” she said, and it was true.

“The sign on the building says it’s Marie’s Café,” Annie pointed out.

“She must’ve taken over from her parents,” Ruth commented. She grabbed her purse and was practically out of the car before Annie had pulled to a complete stop. She didn’t wait for the others.

The café door creaked as she opened it—and then came to an abrupt halt. It was as if she’d stepped back fifty years. The café was the same as she remembered, right down to the aluminum paper napkin dispensers and the tabletop jukeboxes. The booths had the identical red vinyl upholstery, but surely the seats had been recovered, probably more than once. The plastic-covered menus were tucked behind the ketchup and mustard containers, which stood next to the salt and pepper shakers.

More afternoons than she could recall, Ruth had sat in one of these very booths with her infant son at her side as she drank a cherry soda and talked over life’s challenges with her friend.

At one stage, soon after Grant’s birth, Ruth had been ready to admit her marriage was a huge mistake. She wanted to end it. Marie had listened and been sympathetic to her tales of woe. Richard spent so little time with her and their son that Ruth was convinced he didn’t love her, that he never really had. Their marriage was a sham, she’d told her friend, and it was better to own up to her mistake and get out now before their lives became even more complicated.

Marie didn’t attempt to talk her out of her decision; all she’d really done was ask Ruth a few questions. As she answered, Ruth realized how important it was to do whatever she could to make this marriage work. Not only because of their son, but because marriage was supposed to be a partnership and that required something from her, too. An honest commitment, a genuine effort … In the back of her mind, and it embarrassed her now to admit this, she’d felt she could always go home, back to Florida….

Back to Royce Jameson. She suspected Bethanne had picked up on the fact that there was more involved in this reunion than meeting her high school friends, much as she looked forward to that. Royce would be there, too; Jane had written her with the news. The possibility of seeing him again had everything to do with wanting to return to Florida. They’d been high school sweethearts—an old-fashioned term, perhaps, one Annie might have scoffed at, but it was true. They’d been so young and so deeply in love. But she’d hurt him terribly and even after all these years she wasn’t sure he’d forgiven her.

The last time they’d stood face-to-face was the summer after their high school graduation. They’d held each other and they’d kissed, vowing that nothing would ever come between them. He was leaving for boot camp and she was heading off to college. They’d promised to love each other forever and ever. Six months later she was engaged to Richard.

Their final conversation had been horrific. Ugly. She’d taken the coward’s way out and written him from college that she was marrying Richard. Back then Royce was in the marines and stationed in California before being deployed. When he received her letter he’d phoned her at her college dorm, angry and hurt. She’d listened while he accused her of terrible things. The conversation was one of the most painful of her life, and she’d sobbed for hours afterward.

All she knew of Royce’s life in recent years was that, like her, he hadn’t attended any of the previous reunions. And, like her, he’d lost his spouse.

In the end, of course, Ruth had stayed with Richard and later given birth to Robin. She’d heard from Diane, her high school friend, when Royce had married. It’d been a good time in her own marriage and she was happy for him. She wished him well.

“Can I help you?” A woman in her late sixties or early seventies hurried out from the kitchen, wearing a white apron. Yellow rubber gloves covered her hands; she appeared to be the dishwasher.

“Marie?” Ruth asked tentatively. “Is that you?”

Marie came a step closer. “Ruth? Ruth Hamlin?”

They both gave a shout of recognition and advanced toward each other, arms outstretched, laughing and talking at the same time.

“I’d recognize you anywhere,” Marie claimed.

“You look wonderful.”

“I’m an old bat,” Marie countered, still laughing.

“Me, too.”

They embraced like long-lost sisters, hugging each other and clinging hard.

Bethanne followed Ruth into the café and watched the two women embrace. When Annie had suggested they spend the night in Pendleton, Bethanne had her doubts. She was loath to disrupt Ruth’s careful plans. Yet from the moment they’d crossed the Columbia River, her mother-in-law had been animated, reminiscing about the early years of her marriage, the cities in which she and Richard had lived and the friends she’d made.

“Bethanne, Annie,” Ruth said, turning to them, her face aglow. “Meet Marie. She was one of my dearest, dearest friends all those years ago.” She shook her head, then hugged Marie again. “Annie’s my granddaughter and Bethanne, her mom, was married to Grant.” She lowered her voice but Bethanne could hear every word. “Officially, they’re divorced, but I have high hopes of a reunion now that my son has come to his senses.”

“Hi,” Annie said, and raised her hand in greeting.

Bethanne decided to pretend she hadn’t heard Ruth’s comment and smiled at the other woman, who seemed five or ten years older than Ruth. Marie’s hair had gone completely white and her face was heavily wrinkled. The years hadn’t been nearly as kind to her as they had to Ruth.

“Where is everyone?” Ruth asked, looking around the café. Many of the tables had yet to be bused. The counter was cleared, but a couple of syrup bottles remained, standing in sticky puddles.

“When Richard and I lived here, there wasn’t a seat to be had, day or night. Don’t you remember we used to quote Yogi Berra? We said the place had gotten so popular, no one went there anymore.” She giggled like a schoolgirl and so did Marie.

“Everyone wants to stay close to the freeway these days,” Marie lamented. “Thank goodness the bus still stops here. Otherwise, I’d be out of business for sure.”

“Your mom’s chicken-fried steak was the best I ever ate,” Ruth said. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted gravy that good, before or since.”

“It’s still on the menu. A heart attack on a plate, as they say, but it’s my bestseller.”

“No wonder.”

“I was about to close up shop,” Marie said, drying her hands on her apron. “Maggie phoned in with the flu and my dishwasher’s out sick, too. I don’t have any choice.”

“I thought the bus stopped by every day.”

“It does, but I can’t cook, wait tables and wash dishes all by myself.” She frowned, shaking her head helplessly.

“Has the bus come by today?” Ruth asked.

“Not yet.” Marie glanced at her watch. “It’s due in another forty minutes.”

Annie tugged at Bethanne’s sleeve and whispered, “We could pitch in.”

Marie stared at them. “Could you? I mean, I’d be willing to pay you. I’m afraid if I close for even one day, the bus company might not renew my contract and then I’d be flat out of business.”

Ruth shoved her sweater sleeves up past her elbows. “I’m a champion dishwasher, at your service.”

“I can bus tables,” Annie offered.

“Uh.” Bethanne hesitated. She was thinking she should wash dishes.

“Come on, Mom, you’d make a great waitress.”

“Nothing like a pretty girl to build up business,” Marie told her, grinning as she said it. “And I could certainly use the help.”

“Then I’d be delighted.” The last time Bethanne waited tables had been the summer after she graduated from high school. She’d gotten a job working at the local Denny’s. The experience had convinced her that she wasn’t waitress material. It’d been hard work, lifting heavy platters and busing tables. In addition, she’d discovered that people could be demanding, rude and insensitive. But she’d be able to manage for a few hours.

“I’ve got another apron in back. Let me get it for you.” And Marie bustled into the kitchen, with Ruth close behind.

“I hope I don’t spill coffee on anyone,” Bethanne worried. “Or mix up all the orders.”

“Mom, like Grandma always says, don’t borrow trouble. We’ll do great.”

As little as ten minutes ago, Bethanne had been sitting quietly in the car knitting a wedding gift for her future daughter-in-law. Now she wore a pink apron with a frilly starched border. She looked like a character in some movie about a diner, and since she wore the uniform, she might as well play the role. She purposely tucked the pencil behind her ear, then reached for the order pad and slipped it in her apron pocket.

“The specials are listed on the chalkboard outside,” Marie explained. “It might be a good idea to memorize them.”

“Gotcha,” Bethanne said, and walked outside. She studied the blackboard. Ham and redeye gravy was first, followed by macaroni and cheese. The third special was pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy. Apparently, Marie was fond of smothering food in sauce.

She’d finished familiarizing herself with the specials when she heard the roar of motorcycles in the distance. The sound was deafening as it drew closer. “What is it about men and motorcycles?” she muttered as she went back inside.

“How long before the bus gets here?” Annie asked. She wore her own apron and carried a cleaning rag and a gray plastic tub piled high with dirty dishes.

“About twenty minutes,” Marie called from the kitchen. “Listen, you might fill the water glasses now. It’ll save you time later.”

“I’ll do that,” Bethanne said. She found a pitcher and set about pouring water into each glass. While she was at it, she figured out how to work the coffee machine. Meanwhile, Annie washed the counter, cleaned the tables and put out silverware.

The roar of engines thundered to a stop just outside the café and, shortly after, four burly men dressed in leather vests and calf-high boots walked in as if they owned the place.

Bethanne stared at them. They paused by the door and looked around. Bethanne wasn’t easily intimidated, or so she’d always thought, but these men seemed like the real thing. Road warriors. They were everything Grant’s sister had warned them about. Not that Bethanne knew anything about biker culture, but to her inexperienced eye, two of them looked halfway decent and the other two looked suspicious. She certainly wouldn’t trust any one of them with her daughter. Come to think of it, they were four women alone …

A prickle of fear went down her spine and she stood there paralyzed, unable to move or even breathe. She could imagine the headlines now. Four Women Raped and Murdered. Biker Gang Suspected. If anything happened, Robin would blame her. Not that it mattered, seeing as she’d most likely be dead.

Annie’s eyes connected with hers. Deciding not to give in to her overactive imagination, Bethanne straightened. “You gentlemen can sit anywhere you want.”

The older one, with the short, skinny ponytail, said, “We generally do.”

The others laughed. The four of them slid into a booth and studied her as though she were a fresh piece of meat and they were hungry wolves.

“I’ll take your order in just a minute,” she said, pretending to ignore their menacing demeanor.

Annie held her mother’s gaze and then scurried into the kitchen. Bethanne trailed her at a more leisurely pace, unwilling to show how intimidated she actually felt.

“Do you know those men?” Ruth asked her friend, peering into the café from the kitchen entrance. “They look like they belong to some rough-and-tumble gang.”

“Bikers stop by here all the time. Don’t let them scare you,” Marie said. “They all like to act tough, but underneath they’re pussycats.” She was busy stirring a pan of gravy and didn’t even glance out. “Besides, their money is as green as anyone else’s.”

“Right.” Trying not to reveal her fear, Bethanne removed the order pad she’d stuck in her apron pocket, took the pencil from behind her ear and headed back out.

“What can I get you boys?” she asked, forcing herself to act as if she was in a theater production. Or one of those diner movies. All she needed was a wad of gum to go with the attitude.

“Boys?” Again it was the older man with the ponytail who responded. “Do I look like a boy to you?”

“It’s a figure of speech,” she said, holding her ground. “Would you like separate checks?”

“Please.” The one who answered was the most tanned of the group, which suggested he’d been on the road the longest. He had intense brown eyes and wore a leather bandanna tied at the base of his neck. His leather vest looked well-worn and he had on fingerless gloves. She almost mentioned that she was knitting a similar pattern for her son’s fiancée—but she didn’t. It was a good bet that he wouldn’t be interested in her latest knitting project.

“Cheeseburger, with double pickles and no onion,” the man sitting across from Ponytail told her.

Bethanne wrote that down. She looked over at the biker next to him, who ordered macaroni and cheese. Leather Bandanna ordered a bowl of chili and Pony tail wanted the pot roast special.

“I’ll have those out for you in a few minutes.” It wasn’t until she gave Marie the order that she realized she hadn’t asked if they wanted anything to drink. The coffeepot was full, so she carried it over to the table, and when they all righted their cups, she did her best to fill them without letting her hand shake. She didn’t want these men to know how nervous they made her.

Bethanne started to turn away when Ponytail stopped her. “Where’s your name tag?”

“Ah … I left it at home. I’m Bethanne.” As soon as she said it, she regretted not giving him a fake name.

“Bethanne,” he repeated, then nodded as though he approved.

“What’s yours?”

“I go by Rooster.”

“Rooster?”

“After the John Wayne movie,” one of the other bikers explained.

“Oh, okay,” Bethanne murmured. “True Grit, right? The original version.”

“Right.”

The biker pointed across the booth at the two other men. “That’s Willie and the good-looking one is Skunk. This here is Max,” he said, nudging the man beside him.

“Bethanne,” she repeated.

The two men across from Rooster nodded. Ignoring her, Max looked out the window. The two other bikers were adding cream to their coffee. Rather than encourage further conversation, Bethanne retreated behind the counter. Her hand trembled slightly as she returned the coffeepot to the burner.

The door opened again, and a steady stream of customers filed into the café. Bethanne glanced outside, seeing that the bus had arrived ahead of schedule. She’d been too distracted by the bikers to notice. She grabbed the coffeepot again and moved toward the counter, which had filled up first. Annie had taken on waitress duty, as well, and the two of them were running from one end of the café to the other. In no time the two coffeepots were empty.

“I need coffee down here,” an ill-tempered man shouted from the rear of the café.

“Coming right up,” Bethanne promised. She started taking orders and shuffled them to Marie as fast as she could. Once the coffee had finished brewing, she hurried to the grouch by the window. He had an entire booth to himself.

“Is this decaf?” he demanded.

“No … I don’t believe so.”

“Get me some decaf.”

“I’ll need to brew that. It’ll be a few minutes.”

“What kind of joint is this?” he complained loudly.

“Would you like me to take your order?” she asked, thinking charitably that he was probably hungry and tired.

“No, I want my decaf coffee.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” he said pointedly, “and the longer you stand here arguing with me, the longer I’m going to have to wait for my coffee. I have to get back on that bus, you know.”

Bethanne realized she should have automatically brewed a pot of decaffeinated coffee. There was simply too much to remember.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called out, and hurried toward the coffee machine.

Bethanne was still taking orders when she noticed the decaffeinated coffee was ready. Dropping off more orders with Marie, she picked up the coffeepot and rushed over to the complainer. He sat with his arms crossed, scowling. He didn’t bother to right his cup so she did it for him, and filled it to the brim.

“You overfilled it,” he snarled. “Now there’s no room for cream.”

“Sorry.” She reached for a second cup and poured again, leaving it three-quarters full.

“That’s only half a cup!” he nearly shouted. “I suppose you intend to charge me for a full one?”

Bethanne started to add more coffee when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Rooster, the older biker, stood directly behind her.

“Listen, buddy,” he said, and the threat in his voice made her shiver. She couldn’t see his face but she saw the reaction of the man with the coffee and he seemed to cower in the booth.

“I’m real hungry, and when I get hungry I get cranky. You’re delaying my meal. Trust me, you don’t want to see what happens when I get cranky.”

The other man didn’t move. In fact, it looked as if he’d stopped breathing. The rattle of dishes died down and conversation fell to a soft hush. Soon the whole café had gone silent as Rooster bent over the man in the booth.

“That coffee’s just fine now, isn’t it?” Rooster asked.

The other man nearly jerked his head off in his eagerness to assure Rooster it was.

“That’s what I thought.” Rooster gently patted Bethanne’s arm as he returned to his friends.

“I think your order’s up now,” she said. He winked as he passed by, and Bethanne did her best to disguise a smile but knew she hadn’t succeeded.

Still grinning she walked back to the kitchen and placed the orders for the four bikers on a large tray and delivered them to the table.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“I didn’t do that for you,” Rooster said, fork in hand. “I like my mashed potatoes and gravy hot.”

She was about to turn away when she became aware of Max, the man who sat beside Rooster, watching her. His eyes, dark and sober, met hers for a long moment. His look seemed to go straight through her and Bethanne felt herself flush. Her reaction embarrassed her but she didn’t know how to explain it. She wasn’t seeking any connection, romantic or otherwise. She was there to do a job—help Ruth’s friend—and that was it. Glancing away, Bethanne hurried back to the kitchen.

## Eight

“Mom,” Annie said from the backseat of the car. “Have you ever been to Vegas?” This trip was turning out better than she’d hoped. But then, her expectations hadn’t been that high.

When her grandmother announced the day before that they were going to spend the night in Spokane, Annie had wanted to scream with frustration. Spokane? It was an all-right town, but it sure wasn’t exciting.

Well, visiting Pendleton, Oregon, wasn’t exactly like being in Paris. To be fair, they’d had a decent afternoon. She’d actually had fun waiting tables at the café, which wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked. The next time she ate in a restaurant, Annie knew she’d see the waitress in an entirely different light.

She’d suggested Pendleton because of her father. A little while ago, he’d mentioned that he’d been born there, although Annie couldn’t remember why they’d even been talking about it. That part wasn’t important, anyway. The one thing that did matter was getting a feel for what her mother was thinking about her father. Driving to Pendleton was Annie’s way of casually bringing him into the conversation. She wanted her mother to be thinking about him, to miss him and to consider reuniting the family.

Unfortunately, Annie hadn’t been able to figure out how her mother really felt. Of course, they’d been too busy at the café to discuss much of anything. Then, after Marie closed for the night, they’d toured the town. There’d been a lot of talk about her grandparents’ early years. Annie had listened politely and so had her mother. Bethanne seemed interested but Annie noticed she didn’t ask many questions.

The first place Marie took them was the old neighborhood. Annie saw the house where her grandparents had lived when Grant was born. It was small and drab and nothing like she’d expected. True, it was nearly fifty years older now, but she could hardly imagine her father living in such a tiny house. The yard was overrun with grass and thick with weeds. The sidewalk leading to the front porch was cracked. Someone had left a red wagon outside, along with a tricycle, so another young family occupied the house these days.

While Annie loved her grandmother’s stories, her attention was repeatedly drawn back to her cell phone.

Vance had texted her twice. His first message said he’d landed safely in Rome. Well, good for him.

She didn’t text back.

Then, less than three hours later, he sent her another message.

Miss you.

As far as she was concerned, he didn’t miss her nearly enough—or he wouldn’t have left. She didn’t answer that one, either, although it boosted her ego considerably that he’d attempted to contact her.

Nevertheless, Vance was out of her life. He’d taught her a valuable lesson and she was determined to learn from it. She was hurt by what he’d done and embarrassed by how oblivious she’d been. He’d lied to her, keeping his plans a secret. She should’ve known, though. In retrospect, there’d been clues, like his lack of interest in doing anything with her this summer and his frequent visits to Matt’s place—without her. What was that cliché about hindsight being twenty-twenty? She understood it now.

This thing with Vance was kind of eerie because it reminded Annie of when her father moved out. She’d commented on that to her mother, who’d agreed. Bethanne had been shocked when it happened; even Andrew hadn’t seen it coming.

Annie had been shocked at first, too, but when she thought about it, the signs had been there. Just like with Vance, but more obvious. Her father often got home late from the office and always seemed in a hurry to leave again. He’d bought her a new computer, too, for no reason. It wasn’t until much later that she’d realized his gifts were motivated by guilt, which proved he did have a conscience. Later, Annie had purposely ruined the computer, but that was beside the point.

Her mother had been totally blind to what her father was doing. That had infuriated Annie, who thought Bethanne should have recognized that her marriage was in trouble. A woman who’d been married for twenty years, who supposedly knew her husband …

Back then it’d been easy to blame Bethanne. Annie got over that fast enough, but some of her residual anger had lingered.

Until the night Vance dumped her.

Well, he didn’t officially dump her, but that was how it felt. Actually, she almost wished he’d ended the relationship completely. A clean break and all that.

Well, it didn’t matter because she was finished with Vance. He could send her all the text messages he wanted but she had no intention of responding. What she needed now was to have fun. A lot of fun.

She looked down at the map a second time. Vegas wasn’t that far, but she’d have to convince her mother and grandmother to head toward Nevada instead of South Dakota. Mount Rushmore wasn’t going anywhere. She’d let all her friends know where she was and eventually the news would reach Vance and then he’d regret what he’d done.

The taste of this small revenge was sweet on her tongue. Vance might think Rome was fun, but Annie could guarantee Vegas was a whole lot more exciting than touring some museum.

Annie’s question caught Bethanne by surprise. Vegas?

“Have you ever been to Vegas?” Annie asked again.

Where was this coming from? Bethanne was driving while Ruth napped beside her and her daughter sat in the backseat.

“Well, yes, your father and I were in Vegas years ago.” Grant had taken Bethanne to a Realtors’ convention. They’d stayed at one of the gigantic hotels on the Strip, and she remembered those three days fondly. Because of the divorce it was sometimes difficult to recall the good times she’d had with Grant. Like all married couples, they’d experienced ups and downs through the years. Every marriage did. It was easy to forget the laughter they’d once shared when her memories were tainted by Grant’s betrayal.

“You awake, Grandma?” Annie leaned forward to peer around Ruth’s seat.