“I’m not talking about that silly business at the NLS. I could care less if every child in town, other than my grandchildren, wants to ride some ridiculous sheep or chase cows—”
“They were calves.”
“—but I do care for your reputation. What were you thinking, Elizabeth, gadding about with that cowboy?” So this wasn’t really about the rodeo.
Elizabeth tried for an equally icy tone. She wasn’t her mother’s daughter for nothing. “If you’re referring to Dallas Maguire, yes, we were in the same place at the same time. That’s all.”
Claudia paced the floor, oblivious of the fragile items on the tables, sweeping out a hand to make her point. “I had coffee at the café five minutes ago, and every busybody in Barren must be eager to let me know that my daughter—after we were all disgraced less than a year ago—is apparently ‘keeping company’ with that man.” She took a breath. “The source of that quaint term was none other than—”
“Let me guess. Bernice.” The biggest gossip in town, except for Doc Baxter’s wife.
“We’re friends, which makes her comment all the more hurtful. Bernice was trying to warn me, and she meant well—”
“Warn you? Mother, there’s nothing between me and Dallas Maguire.” Well, that was a lie she hoped would not be uncovered anytime soon.
“Don’t fib to me, Elizabeth.” As if she knew Dallas wanted to be friends, and he was already more than that, though baby daddy didn’t seem to suit, even when it was true. Her mother spun around, nearly knocking a Tiffany vase off a table. “People are beginning to whisper. Do you have no regard for my position, if not yours?”
Claudia didn’t know the half of it. But this was not a new strain between them. All her life Elizabeth had been the one to take the brunt of her mother’s unhappiness. Claudia’s own divorce had devasted her—she’d never gotten over the humiliation she’d felt then. Reputation was everything to Claudia. She tended to blame Elizabeth for every bump in the road, as if she had driven her dad away.
“I know how disappointed you are in me, Mom, for becoming a divorced woman with three young children to raise.” She remembered Dallas’s comment. I wouldn’t do anything to harm you—or your kids. “But that’s my reality.” And it would only get worse once she spoke to Dallas. “I wish you could lend me support rather than this constant criticism of everything I do.”
No wonder she’d been reluctant to leave her house. Bernice watching from across the street couldn’t compare to Claudia Monroe under full sail, but her mother’s rejection hurt worse. Still, the decision to let Dallas talk her into attending last Saturday’s rodeo fell on her. And of course, so did that afternoon in May.
“My reason for watching the children’s rodeo was in part because I wanted to see what attracts Jordan—or anyone else.” Including Dallas. It was time to make her stand before this new pregnancy became yet another issue. “Also, in case you haven’t heard, Dallas is putting on an adult rodeo for charity. Possibly, you could give us suggestions as to which organization would be appropriate. I’ve agreed to help him as much as I can.”
“Help—how?”
“I might as well make use of the experience I gained with Harry. All those rummage sales, raffles, the work on his campaign.” Elizabeth could see she’d shocked her mother. “I do know how to get things done. It’s useless to try to keep my life as private as I’d like.”
“The proximity worries me,” Claudia said. “You’re a vulnerable woman and he—”
“Is an attractive man. But Mother, I have all I can do to get through my days right now, and once the children are home my hands will be even fuller. Believe me, a romance with anyone, especially Dallas, is the furthest thing from my mind. Or his,” she added. “He won’t be here long, so you needn’t worry. I’ll handle the back-office part while he attends to the actual event.”
“And where would that be?”
“Clara McMann’s ranch.”
Her mother’s face settled into deeper lines of disapproval just as Elizabeth saw Bernice Caldwell pass the front window. A quick check of the clock told her it was a few minutes after ten. The shop was now officially open for business, and she stood arguing with her difficult mother. But at least one silence had been broken.
“Mom, your friend is here. No doubt she’ll have her opinions, but I wish you’d believe me as much as you believe her.”
IN SILENCE, BECCA trailed Calvin through the rooms of a small bungalow for rent, but her footsteps dragged, and for days she’d felt incredibly weary. Today she’d missed work again. A sense of disloyalty followed her from the living room through the kitchen—much smaller than she was used to on the farm—then on into the first of two bedrooms.
Becca surveyed the room’s layout. A big bed occupied the wall opposite the double closet, where she could almost imagine her clothes hanging beside Calvin’s.
She’d never felt this way before about anyone, and his work at the McMann ranch, outdoors in the summer sun all day, had gradually replaced his former pallor with a tan. His dark hair had a few highlights now, and Becca resisted an urge to sweep a stubborn lock off his forehead. “Well?” he said.
She lowered her voice. The Realtor stood nearby, not that close but still able to hear their conversation. “It’s cute, but I think we should keep looking.”
“You don’t like this house? I like it.” He peered past her through the window. “Small but way better than my apartment above the hardware store. We won’t have to buy much furniture, and there’s a good-sized yard out back. We could fence it and get a dog.”
Calvin slipped an arm around her
