“I did,” Sheridan whispered, nearly choking on the words. “I…he…” She couldn’t finish the sentence over the effort of tryingnot to cry. Her lungs felt so tight, she could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
“What happened?”
There was such concern reflected on Lily’s face, that whatever control Sheridan had simply disappeared. She flung herself into Lily’s arms and let it all out, all the pain, all the betrayal, blubbering like an idiot against the woman’s soft shoulder.
Lily held her gently and patted her back in shared sympathy, letting her cry until she was almost all cried out—almost—and all that was left was a dry, hacking sound as she tried to breathe.
Lily pulled away to retrieve an embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of her robe and handed it to her. “Dry your tears. As someone who cried all the time because of my husband, I can tell you that no man is worth it.” She moved a chair away from the table. “Sit and tell me what happened.”
Dutifully, Sheridan did as she was told. If anyone understood heartbreak, it would be Lily, who lived through her own. Actually, any one of the girls would understand, as they’d all been through it, too. And so had she. Perhaps, not a love affair gone wrong, but there were other ways to have one’s heart broken.
“Katie’s back,” she stated bluntly. A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. She swiped them away angrily.
“Again? That woman keeps turning up like a bad penny. Or rather, looking for a hundred pennies and then some.” She scoffed, apparently knowing the woman as well as the whole story. “How do you know she’s back?”
“She was at the ranch, waiting for him. She had made herself quite at home, too!”
“I see.”
“She says Wyatt still loves her. I…I….believe her.”
Lily reached for her hand, offering whatever comfort she could, but still asked, “Why? Why do you believe her?”
“She was so confident, so filled with self-assurance.”
“She could be lying to you, Sheridan. That confidence could all be fake.”
Sheridan shook her head. “I don’t think so. If you had seen her, you would understand.” She sniffed, forcing her tears to stop, but it wasn’t working. How does one stop crying when the whole world has fallen apart? Still, she tried. “What do I do? I can’t stay here, which is strange, in a way. When I first came to this house, I couldn’t wait to leave. Now, I need to leave for an entirely different reason.”
Lily nodded, her eyes aglow with a wisdom only one who knew pain could understand. “You love him.”
“I do,” she admitted. “With all my heart.”
Lily tilted her head to the side, her smile true, her eyes opening wide, lifting her brows. “Then fight for him.”
Sheridan shook her head. “She obviously still has his heart. I can’t fight that. I just don’t know how. And what if I do try to fight for him and I lose? I cannot bear the thought of seeing them in town together, laughing, loving each other. I just…” She dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief, then inhaled as much as her lungs could hold and let it out slowly. “No, my only recourse is to go back to New Orleans, back to the life I had. Or someplace else, somewhere where I don’t know anyone, and no one knows me. Get a teaching position like I had before.”
“I understand. I do.” Lily nodded, then squeezed her hand. “What will you do with the business?”
“I’ll still need to sell it.”
Lily tugged the edges of her robe together as she rose from her seat and grabbed another teacup. She poured tea into it and slid it across the table to her. “Sell it to us girls.”
“What?”
“We’ve been talking, the girls and I. Remember when I told you that Josie taught us all how to save and invest our money?”
Sheridan nodded, an inkling of hope blossoming in her heart despite the devastation consuming her. “I remember. My mother, apparently, was incredibly good with money.”
“Well, that’s what we’ve been doing. Saving and investing all these years. Between the five of us, we have enough to make you a fair offer. If you accept, then each of the girls will own a share of this house. Even Mrs. Gallagher will own a share.”
The answer was so simple, Sheridan wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. “I accept your offer.”
“You do?”
“Yes, it makes perfect sense.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Mr. Applebaum—he’s such a nice man—can draw up the papers and then, you can go back to New Orleans, back to your old life, if that’s what you want to do.”
