Andee deflected a rubber duck tossed by her son. “Well, I’m at least thankful you’re staying in Redemption.”
“For now.”
She hadn’t decided what she was going to do. There was still the house to sell, but thankfully, the insurance money had come through—
after
the investigation ruled out suicide.
A hard rock of guilt rolled in her stomach, just like yesterday at the Lonesome Steer when the waitress innocently asked about Charlotte’s father; coming after the humiliation with Marshall, it’d been just another reminder of the mess she’d made of all their lives.
The daybed creaked, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Andee grabbing Jackson away from the lamp on the small bookcase. Her cousin blew out a frustrated breath as she pulled the toddler onto the cheery green and yellow pillows plumped in the corner.
“Don’t you have to get the café opened?”
“In a bit.” There was an expectant tone to her cousin’s voice that matched the sudden, impish smile on her face.
Amy stopped mid-fold. “What?”
“I’m waiting to hear what happened at the Lonesome Steer yesterday.”
Amy turned back and finished folding the last burp cloth. “Nothing to tell. I stopped by to say thank you. They were so sweet and just adored Charlotte.” Pride tamped down the anger that threatened to rise again.
“Mmm-hmm and…” Andee carried the last word into three states. “What did Marshall say when you asked him about the ring?”
She bit her lips, opting for a simple shrug. Thinking about the confrontation with him simmered the anger to the surface.
“Amy.”
The stern tone didn’t help her mood. “Nothing, okay,” she snapped. “I never even got the chance to ask, let alone thank him. He just stared at me like I’d grown horns or something.”
Her shoulders drooped, and she covered the reaction by pulling the basket from the table. She hated to admit that his disdain hurt. She hadn’t expected an easy reunion, or a reunion at all for that matter, but was a little civility too much to ask? As for the ring he’d mentioned, if it were true, that tidbit was staying in the closet with the ghost of their relationship. A heavy breath filled her lungs. No doubt it would come out to haunt her again and again over the years. Redemption might be the name of the town, but it obviously wasn’t in Marshall to give, and she’d just have to accept that.
“I’m sorry, Amy. I should have kept my nose out of it.”
When Andee leaned in to wrap an arm around her, two more little ones reached over to join in.
She put her hand up to cover her cousin’s and kissed the top of her nephew’s red curls. “Not your fault. All these things were my doing, right from the start—my choices. What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger, right?”
Her cousin snorted and tightened her hold. “Then you should be freakin’ Hercules by now.”
An unexpected chuckle burst out and she thanked the powers that be again for her cousin’s unfailing support. Andee didn’t need to know that it wasn’t strength as much as sheer willpower keeping her from collapsing in a heap of misery at what she had made of her life.
Amy glanced over to the basinet holding her daughter. Her beautiful little baby. No, she couldn’t let herself go down that path. She’d seen first hand what living in the past could do to a woman. She loved her mother dearly, but everything in life, good or bad, had been turned into a pity party centered on her. She didn’t want that for herself, and especially her own daughter. Dwelling on the past would get her nowhere, she simply had to learn how to accept it and move on. No matter how much it hurt.
Andee gave her another big squeeze before hiking the squirming Jackson higher on her hip. “Why don’t you two come down for breakfast later? I’ll make your favorite.”
“Okay, after another load of laundry and a trip to the market. I’m almost out of diapers already.” She dropped the basket on the floor, leaned on the counter, and stifled another yawn. “I know, I know, this is just the beginning, right?”
Her cousin’s laughter trilled in the small space. “You got it.” And with that, Andee and her son breezed out the door.
Resisting the urge to lay her head down on her arms, Amy instead perused the classifieds opened on the counter. Yes, the insurance money had come through, but she would still need a job eventually. And maybe once the house sold, she’d look for a small place for her and Charlotte—somewhere with a little porch, and swing in the back yard. Maybe even here in Redemption like Andee wanted. Heaven knew she didn’t realize how alone she had really been until coming up here. Another glance at her daughter had her wondering about the validity of believing in fate.
Turning back to the paper and flipping over the page to the real estate section, she paused at a picture of a beautiful little two story Victorian.
Too big for the two of us
, was her first reaction, until she caught the words,
Bed and Breakfast
. Interest piqued, Amy read on. “Good location…wonderful business opportunity…gables, garden, porch swing, gazebo overlooking creek in the back.”
She bit down on her lip. The spurt of excitement that rose with each word was dented by the memory of the last time the thought arose. When Hank’s frustration at losing the partnership escalated, she’d suggested he simply quit and they start anew with their own business; she’d always dreamed about owning her own inn. His sardonic laughter still rang in her ears as he’d scoffed at her “lame” ideas and started a rant about all her shortcomings.
With a tight jaw, Amy lifted her chin, read the ad again, grabbed a nearby pen, and circled it with a strong, firm hand just for good measure.
Hank wasn’t in charge anymore. She
could
handle it. Sure, maybe she never attended college, but she’d worked in the hospitality industry since the age of sixteen, right from housekeeping all the way up to manager, even including a stint in bookkeeping.
The more she thought of it, the more her spirit lifted with the possibilities. In fact, a little B&B would be perfect because they could live in one of the smaller rooms, and then she wouldn’t need daycare.
Amy pictured Charlotte playing in a little playpen at the back of the kitchen as she prepared breakfast for the patrons. And it would have the big backyard…
The price caught her attention again, sticking a pin in the balloon of excitement. “What am I thinking?”
The price alone would take up the amount she hoped to get from the house sale. And what if the place needed repairs or renovations? Yes, steady income from guests would eventually offset the costs…
eventually
being the key word. Did she really want to take something like that on right now? Even if she did know what she was doing, it could prove to be a big financial risk.
Or the best idea you ever had.
Her track record didn’t give much weight to that thought, and Amy flipped the paper closed before she did something stupid, like call for more information.
****
Marshall spat out the dust that billowed around him as he lay face down in the dirt. He clawed at the dry earth from the practice arena, pulling his hands beneath him in an attempt to press up enough to get breath back into his lungs.
Damn bull
.
But that wasn’t entirely true. His mind had been elsewhere—and elsewhere was
not
the best place for a mind to be when you were on the back of a ticked-off bull.
“Need a hand up?”
Marshall grimaced at the shadow falling across the dirt. The humor in Chase’s voice irked him as much as the fall.
He shook his head, and heaved his arms straight beneath him, pushing his body away from the settling dust and into fresher air. Despite his refusal, his buddy’s hand appeared, locked around his arm and hoisted him to his feet.
“I know I’m aiming for some mean bulls for the circuit,” Chase began, “and business wise, I’d like to think it’s my bulls, but…”
Marshall cast him a glare and readjusted the protective vest before swiping up his Stetson from the dirt and returning it to his head.
“I heard about the excitement at the Lonesome Steer last week. Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.” He aimed himself toward the gates, refusing to acknowledge his friend’s chuckle behind him.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Chase’s father, Roy, and two other hands working hard to get the bull back into the enclosure. The silver beast had potential that was for sure. In fact, he’d probably used up a bit of his luck today by not getting a hoof in the head. Then again, maybe that would have knocked some sense back into him, or at least a haunting auburn-headed ghost
out
of his head.
Not bothering to push the gate open, he hiked himself up and over the metal rail.
Marshall grabbed his water bottle, rinsed the dust from his mouth, and hung his hands over the training pen, shaking his head at his own stupidity.
A hand slapped him on the back. “I’m calling it quits for today. I’ve seen enough—and I think you’ve had enough of a beating for one day.”
What could he say? Chase was the one liable if anything happened to him in the ring. Guilt added another rock to his gut. He was here to test the quality of the bulls his friend raised for the rodeo circuit, not get himself killed.
“Sorry, buddy,” Marshall finally said. He tipped the water bottle toward the bull pen. “That young’un is the one you’re gonna want to watch. He’s got the fierce streak you’re lookin’ for.”
“Hot damn, that’s what I was hoping you’d say. That’s Muffin’s youngest.”
Marshall couldn’t help but grin. Chase’s prize bull might be of quality rodeo stock, but the thing’s name made him sound like a puff ball thanks to the original owner. “You should’ve changed the poor guy’s name the minute you brought him home.”
“Thought about it,” Chase said as he readjusted his straw hat. “But I figured the name gave him his power—sort of like Sampson’s hair—if I changed it, he’d lose his best genes. Couldn’t risk that after the investment we put into him.”
Marshall snorted and stood as Roy approached them.
“That was some good riding there, until you got swatted off like a pesky fly.”
“We’re calling it a day, Pop.” Chase didn’t bother to hide his smile.
“Probably a good thing in more ways than one.” Roy winked at Marshall and nodded to his son. “Best head over to the Sunrise Café then. Your granddad’s probably talked the waitress’s ears off by now.”
“Mind if I tag along?” The words fell out of Marshall’s mouth before he realized. When he glanced over, both men stared at him like he’d hit his head during one of the falls. “What?”
“You haven’t come to breakfast with us in almost two years. Not since that mornin’ you skedaddled out of their like a coyote was on your tail.”
He held the cringe inside, figuring they wouldn’t have remembered that.
Realizing his friends were still looking at him, Marshall simply shrugged his shoulder. “What can I say? Getting my ass kicked by a bunch of pansy-named bulls makes me hungry.”
Roy quirked a brow, but the grin on his son’s face spoke volumes, and made Marshall regret his hasty decision.
Twenty minutes later, he regretted it even more as he walked across the navy-and-white linoleum and pulled up a stool beside Chase’s grandfather Elwood and two other older men.
“Howdy, son. Glad to see you joinin’ us today. How’re those bulls my grandson is raisin’?”
“Meaner than an old fart last in line at a dollar buffet.”
Elwood’s cackled laughter filled the diner. “Good to hear. Your title-carrying endorsement of the beasts sure has bolstered his business.”
Marshall buried himself in the coffee the waitress set in front of him. “Titles don’t mean a damn thing, Elwood.” His didn’t bring him anything but heartache…and a reminder of what he was doing here—or rather, what a mistake it was to be here.
He shoved the coffee away. “You know, I’m not as hungry as I thought. I’m gonna head out.”
“But we just got here,” Chase said from behind, his words emphasized by the jingle of the bells above the door. “What is it about this place that drives you out—the food here is great, honest.”
Just then a brunette head pushed through the kitchen door. For half a second his breath held, but the overly round face of the waitress that followed depleted the rest of the air from his lungs, and he blew it out on a long, slow breath.
Pathetic.
“I’m sure it is,” he said and reluctantly pulled his coffee back in front of him.
What had be been hoping for? Just a glance? Or did he actually plan to talk to Amy if he saw her? And what would he say? He hadn’t forgiven her, but at the same time, the small, nervous changes in her mannerisms and the holes in the new information about Hank bothered him.
Halfway through breakfast, Amy’s cousin came through the kitchen door. By the daggers Andee threw his way, Marshall figured he was lucky not to get his ass kicked out of the place—or a loogie in his eggs.
The conversations in the cozy café came to an almost complete silence, and he glanced around to find everyone staring between the proprietor and himself.
Elwood leaned in. “What the hell did you do, son? I haven’t seen her that mad since she found out Joey Cahill spray painted those profanities on the apartment door.”