“I do. He scared me.” Carlie shot me a glance, obviously worried that her mother had brought up the newspaper. Stanley Lancaster had been the one who’d written the article accusing Luke.
I squeezed her knee to let her know I was all right.
“Shelley married Dirk Richards, who was very rich. Heir to something or other.” Mrs. Webster waved her fingers as if to conjure the answer.
“Oil money,” Joseph said.
“That’s right,” Mrs. Webster said. “They ended up divorced but apparently she made out well because all I’ve ever seen her do is golf and drink chardonnay.”
“Mom, be kind,” Carlie said, laughing.
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Mrs. Webster said. “But she irks me. How she raised such a fine son, I’ll never know.”
“Are any of them still alive?” I asked. “I’d love to pay a visit to the newspaper owner.”
“You and me both,” Mrs. Webster said. “He was completely irresponsible. Of the four of them, Shelley’s the only one still here riding her broomstick. Back in the day, that woman ran this town. I wanted to become a member of the country club but never got an invite. I’d have loved to whoop her butt at golf back then. Before we lost Beth, I cared about those things.” She paused for a moment to take a sip from her glass. “Actually, when they were younger, Stanley was known as quite the playboy. As a matter of fact, he hit on me once.”
“After you were married?” Carlie asked.
“No, no, before that. I was only sixteen at the time. We were at a dance out at the grange. They used to have them once a month back then. I’d gone out there to look for your father, Carlie. I was terribly jealous because this girl named Idabel was fawning all over him and I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. We weren’t going steady then, but we’d already told each other how we felt. Anyway, I couldn’t find Ben but Stanley Lancaster was out there smoking a cigarette and drinking out of a flask. Both disgusting habits. And you won’t believe what he did. He made a pass at me. I was sixteen at the time, and he was at least ten years older than me. Your father, Carlie, wanted to fight him. It was a mess of a night.” She grinned, clearly enjoying her story. “Logan Bend was rougher back then.”
“Mom, I never heard that story.”
“I didn’t like to talk about it front of your father. He didn’t find it as amusing as I did.”
“He got the last laugh,” I said. “Married to one of the prettiest girls in town.”
“You’re too sweet.” Mrs. Webster gestured toward me with her glass. “I’m so sorry. This drink has gone completely to my head. No one wants to hear my stories from the old days.”
“I could listen to you all night,” Joseph said.
“Oh, you.” Mrs. Webster slapped his shoulder. “You’re the silliest man.”
“I’m crazy about you, that’s all,” Joseph said.
“Joseph, no one wants to hear you gush,” Mrs. Webster said.
“I do.” Carlie grinned. “I’m crazy about her too.”
“Stop it. Both of you. You’re embarrassing me.” Mrs. Webster’s cheeks flamed pink, but I could see they’d pleased her.
“I can clearly see you make her happy,” Carlie said to Joseph. “For which I’m thankful.”
“Goodness me, isn’t that nice to hear?” Joseph raised his champagne glass. “To family.”
I was struck in that moment about how love could change the course of your life. What had been an empty space for Mrs. Webster was now filled by this boisterous giant of a man. As for me? The very woman I longed for all these years had returned to me.
“To second chances,” I said, raising my glass. “And to new beginnings.”
We all clinked glasses as the late-afternoon light washed the patio in warmth.
Carlie and I sat outside on the terrace of Logan Bend Lodge restaurant. The rustic outside area ran along the entire back side of the restaurant area with a view of Logan Mountain. Tourist season brought in people who enjoyed outdoor activities, filling the lodge and restaurant. Tonight, the terrace hosted a half dozen vacationing families with small children, two tables of four retirees, a group of ten young women celebrating a birthday, and a scattering of couples out for a romantic dinner. The rise and fall of voices and laughter portrayed the joy of summer weather and vacations.
“I’m glad I made reservations,” I said. “This place is really busy.”
“Me too. It’s strange how so many things have changed here. When I think of Logan Bend, I think of the way it was when we were young. Most everything in the downtown area is different.”
“Gentrified,” I said. “From rundown and depressing to new and quaint.”
“I hope my mother didn’t bother you back at the house,” Carlie said. “All that talk about Stanley Lancaster.”
“No, what’s done is done.”
“I guess the truth doesn’t matter if you’re rich,” Carlie said. “My mom couldn’t understand why he did it. Sheriff Lancaster was his brother. Wouldn’t you think he’d have had access to the truth?”
“Maybe he cared more about selling papers,” I said.
“Salacious gossip should be left to the rags, not a town paper.”
“I used to ride my bicycle by their mansion up on the top of Strawberry Hill. I’d stare at it, thinking how someday I might have a house that pretty and bring you to live in it with me.” The Lancaster mansion had been built in the colonial style. Now, through the eyes of an adult and contractor, the place looked stuffy and out of place in the shadow of Logan Mountain. Back then I thought it was the most beautiful home I’d ever seen.
“Beth was obsessed with that house too.” Carlie’s eyes glazed over as the past took her from
