Page 3 of Blue Jean Summer

“Hayes Wilder. It’s been a long time.”

I turned and was met by the overly styled hair of Governor Maxwell Grant. I felt about politicians the same as my granddad had. Unfortunately, in my line of work, I spent a lot of time with them.

“Governor Grant,” I said, extending my hand. “Thank you for coming today.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” he said. “Your grandfather was a good man. Did a lot of good for this state. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” My gratitude was as insincere as his condolences. “Will you be joining us for lunch?” I asked, not wanting to draw out the conversation.

A glint of sunlight drew my attention away from the governor. The warm rays made her blonde hair ripple like the shimmering waves of golden wheat fields. Behind the privacy of my sunglasses, I watched as those long legs reentered the tent and weaved between chairs, beelining for the two of us.

The governor followed my line of sight. “Unfortunately not. I have prior commitments.” In the blink of an eye, his attitude changed into something hurried and curt, but at least he dropped the pretense of mourning. “Give me a call,” he said in a hurry as he slipped a business card with his personal number into my hand, then clapped my shoulder and shuffled away. “Let’s do lunch another time.”

I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do less.

“Thanks for your condolences,” I muttered to his back.

Her long lashes blinked over denim-colored eyes as she watched the governor scurry off. “Wow. He left faster than I did after my last two dates.” She offered a handshake. “You probably don’t remember me, but I—”

“Of course I remember you, Catie.”

Her grip was firm as we shook hands. “Catherine,” she corrected with a smile sweet like honey.

I smoothed my thumb over her hand but didn’t let go. “You’re all grown-up.”

Catherine looked down, making those long lashes dance across her high cheekbones as a soft laugh slipped from her lips. “I suppose that happens, doesn’t it? It’s been a long time.” Sadness glossed over her eyes. “Your granddad was always so kind to me. I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

I believed her.

“Did you stay in touch with him?”

She nodded, slowly sliding her hand out of mine to brush those bombshell curls off her shoulder. “I’m friends with Hallie. When I would come out here to see her, I always ended up staying an hour or two longer because Walt and I would start talking. He sent me flowers after I was crowned Miss Virginia last year.”

A small gold pin was fastened to her black dress and sported the state seal on top of a dogwood flower. The engraving on it noted her role as Miss Virginia.

“Congratulations.” I pulled off my sunglasses and tucked them into the inner pocket of my suit jacket so I could take her in.

Gone was Catie, the freckle-faced seven-year-old who would come to the estate to ride horses. Gone was the girl who would let herself into the house because she knew my grandma would have ice cream and knew my granddad would sit with her while he had a scoop too. Gone were the sunburned cheeks that would lift in the brightest smile whenever I’d cut through the kitchen on the way to my room.

Catherine Foster was a breathtaking woman. It was hard to reconcile that she was the same person I remembered. But that smile was timeless.

“I don’t want to hold you up,” she said. “I’m sure there are loads of people who want to chat with you. I just wanted to say hi and tell you how much I’ll miss your granddad.”

“Thank you. Are you coming up to the house for lunch?”

“I plan to. Hallie invited me. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course it is.” A smile I hadn’t felt in weeks pulled at my lips. “Hallie calls the shots around here.” I chuckled. “Even Granddad said so.”

She laughed under her breath, like we were kids sharing secrets. “He was a wise man.” Her gaze quickly darted around the tent, assessing who was left of the crowd. “Will the governor be there?”

My guard slipped as I muttered, “Thankfully, no.”

Catherine’s ruby lips pursed in a tight smile. “I’ll see you in there, then.” She reached out and laid her hand on my arm. “It was good to see you, Hayes.”

“You too, Catie—Cath,” I said, catching myself.

Her eyes creased at the corners as she turned and slipped out from under the tent, following the white pebble path up to the house.