“Oh, um…”
“You seein’ someone?”
“No.”
“You lyin’ to me?”
“No.”
“It’s been a long time since anyone in town’s seen you talkin’ to a pretty girl.”
“Then you know I’m not lying.”
Mim’s eyes narrowed, but she turned back to the kitchen window and focused her interfering on Erin. “I worry about her and my little Til bein’ down there on their own.”
I wasn’t worried. “They’re safe,” I said.
And it was an enormous weight off my shoulders knowing Erin was within my reach—and beyond the slimy grip of her cheating bastard of a husband.
I’d caught glimpses of her around the farm. My feet had stuck to the grass like glue seeing her snuggled up with Matilda under the old elm tree, reading picture books. Hearing their laughter trickle through the valley from that spot reminded me of all the years she’d sat up there with Lila. Later, I’d seen Erin rugged up on the cottage porch, sipping tea, watching Matilda leap over the grass in some kind of dance.
Erin was okay. She’d let me know if she needed anything.
Bronte wandered into the kitchen and tossed the ATV keys on the bench. “You get one guess why the couple in cottage one needs so many sheets.”
I grimaced. “I’d like you to rewind that comment and not even give me one guess.”
“Hey, if I have to see that guy’s bare ass going at it, you can suffer with me.”
“Believe me, I’m suffering.”
Bronte grinned.
Mim tore her attention away from snooping. “You’ll be seein’ a whole lot more than that if you go through with this bed and breakfast nonsense,” she said to Bronte. “And who’ll be tendin’to our guests if you’re busy with this other place, eh? Don’t you be thinkin’ I’ll be bustin’ my hot little ass. Doin’ up the cottages wasn’t my idea.”
I told Mim, “I’m going to hire someone.”
“More money out the door!” she said.
“We can afford it,” I added.
For good measure, Bronte mumbled, “Morethan afford it.”
“Gangin’ up on me again.” Mim, the sly old chook, shuffled closer to Bronte. “You see Erin on your way past?”
“Nah,” my sister said. “I caught up with her earlier, though. She was showing Til the new playground we installed by the farm shop. We got the toddler tick of approval. Shit! That reminds me! I’ve got to remember to update the website before summer…” She started typing notes on her phone. “And get our pamphlets redone…”
Mim wasn’t interested in hearing any more of my good ideas for boosting tourism to the farm. She wanted to back up a step and grill fordetails. “What did you talk to Erin about?”
Bronte shrugged. “The weekend markets. Church. She asked about the doctor in town.”
My head snapped around. Was Erin sick? Matilda? Bloody hell, this couldn’t be a repeat of Lila’s diagnosis, could it? Pained breaths strained my chest.
“What’s wrong with her?” Mim demanded.
“I didn’t ask. That’sherbusiness.” Bronte’s eyebrow rose. She was staring at me. “What’s wrong withyou?”
Defensive, I barked back, “Nothing.”
