“How so?” Ginny would get her digs in somewhere.
“We are opposites in a lot of ways,” Nicole conceded. “And at first, that’s all I could see.”
“And now?” I asked. Guess Ginny wasn’t the only one digging. I knew Nicole returned my feelings, but I wanted to hear it. Call me greedy.
“Now I can see how our opposites are strengths and not a weakness. I never needed anyone to complete me, because I’m a whole person on my own. But I didn’t know I needed someone to complement me, and you do that. We do that—together. You make me a better person. A more rounded person. You see my passion for what it is, not drama, and instead of wanting to quiet me, you encourage my zeal, even to the point of fighting alongside me.” Her smile turned secretive, and I knew we were both thinking of Joshua Trees. “You still drive me crazy, but I’ve decided to see that trait as charming rather than annoying.”
My heart swelled. She’d said everything I’d thought so perfectly.
“You must have it bad, then, if you think Drew’s charming instead of annoying.” Ginny groaned.
I shook my head. Nothing like family to ruin a moment.
23
Nicole
Most people rocked out to old classics on road trips, or if they had kids, the latest popular animated movie sound track. Not Sierra and me. We cruised up Interstate Five blaring NPR on the AM radio. The hot topic of discussion was a peace treaty being brokered between the leaders of multiple Middle East nations.
“Are we there yet?” Sierra asked from the backseat.
Okay, so my daughter was wise beyond her years, but she was also still only eight.
My index finger pushed up on the blinker, and I tilted the steering wheel slightly to get onto our exit. “About twenty more minutes.”
“How big do you think Snoopy has gotten?”
Last time we’d been at Malachi’s ranch, a new baby calf had just been born. Much to the quiet rancher’s consternation, and Jocelyn’s encouragement, Sierra had named the doe-eyed newborn. Snoopy, for the time he played the Red Baron and after the bovine’s reddish-brown coat.
“I’m not much of a cow expert, but you could ask Mr. Malachi. He probably knows.”
I watched in the rearview mirror as she pressed her nose against the window. “I don’t want to remind him how many pounds of ground chuck Snoopy will yield.”
“Oh, sweetie pie.”
The crossbeams of the Double B brand stood erect over the driveway. I pulled my car under their shadow, wincing when the front right tire sank into a crater of a pothole with a jerk. As much as I loved my electric car, it didn’t tackle country roads quite as well as Drew’s gas-guzzling SUV. Pebbles crunched in the tires as I inched forward, slamming into another divot.
After I was sure I’d be forking out a month’s wages to a mechanic to replace my car’s suspension, we made it to the end of the drive and parked in a clearing.
“Finally,” Sierra breathed. I silently echoed her sentiment.
I popped open the door and stepped out, stretching my legs. My nose wrinkled immediately. Jocelyn had been right to fall in love with the landscape of this place—and its reticent owner—but I wasn’t sure how she’d get used to the distinct smell. Each cow could produce thirty to fifty gallons of greenhouse gases a day. Not sure how big Malachi’s herd was, but even these wide-open spaces couldn’t dissipate all those cow farts and burps.
The screen door slapped against its wooden frame as Molly pounded down the porch stairs. She flung her arms around my neck in her exuberant way, squeezing with the strength of a boa constrictor.
“If you don’t loosen your grip, you’re going to be down one bridesmaid.”
Her arms fell away, but as she stepped back, she looked far from chagrined. “I’m just so excited. I’m getting married!”
Betsy appeared at her side. “We know,” she drolled. “And now Nicole is finally here, we all get to practice walking slowly in a straight line and standing still. Rehearse things we’ve all mastered since we were toddlers. Super good use of our time.”
“Sorry we’re late. Traffic through Los Angeles was awful.”
Molly waved away my apology. “We weren’t ready to start until now anyway.” She led us behind the house.
White folding chairs had been set up with a wide aisle running down the middle for the wedding party and then the bride to walk down. At the end of the aisle stood a garden arbor in its natural wood tone. Sunflowers, gerbera daisies, grevillea, poms, and other flowers had been arranged in a beautiful assortment and attached to the corner to cascade down the wooden beam’s side. On the ground stood overflowing pots of orange, yellow, and purple chrysanthemum.
“This is beautiful, Mol.” I managed past my tightened throat.
