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“That’s okay.” And then, she was gone, swallowed up by the bright sunshine.
Grace didn’t think a six-year-old should be alone on this busy, thriving ranch, so she hurried outside. A tractor rumbled along a dirt road, horses trotted inside a corral, and a group of ranch hands baled hay. Actually, it had leaves, so she wasn’t sure what it was. “What do you call that stuff?”
“That’s alfalfa. It’s a different kind of hay.”
“Ah, okay. So, who’re you staying with while your dad’s out of town?”
“Grandma and Grandpa. But Uncle Nash and Aunt Abby and everybody comes over and plays with me.”
“Do they know you left?”
“Grandma’s on the phone. Can you do this?” The cutie started skipping.
“You bet I can.” Grateful for the distraction, Grace joined in and found herself laughing. “You’re really good at that.”
“I know. I’m really good at sports.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you play?”
“I don’t play anything. I’m too little. What are you good at?”
Too little? What does that mean?Her brothers were playing soccer at that age. Grace found herself out of breath pretty quickly, but she rallied. “I’m good at baking.”
“I know. You’re really good. My grandma uses dirty flour for her cookies and raisins instead of chocolate chips.”
“Dirty—”Oh. “Well, whole wheat flour’s better for you.”
“It doesn’t taste better.”
No, it sure doesn’t.
“I’m going now.” And just like that, the girl unlatched a gate and left.
Grace watched her skip across the grass, jump up the porch steps, and disappear into the house.
That girl’s got some serious self-confidence.
I’ll bet she wouldn’t run back home just because she’d had a one-night stand. She’d take the rest of her vacation days to explore this old western town. In fact, she wouldn’t hesitate to ask the ranch manager if she could borrow a car.
Heading back to her cabin, Grace took in the dramatic mountain ranges wreathing the valley. It all felt so big here, so wide open.
And right then, she understood why she loved this place. At home, she fit into a slot. The second child and only daughter. The croissant maker. No matter what interests she pursued, she’d never be more than the role she played in her little world on Duff Island.
Here, she could reinvent herself. She could be anything or anyone.
She had five days left of her vacation. Why on earth would she go back home to play the same part?
She had dozens of pastries.I want to sell them. I want to see people’s expressions when they bite into one of my desserts.Could she just roll up to the farmer’s market and sell out of the trunk of a Buick?
A golf cart drove by. The wagon attached to the back held stacks of wire.
And right then, an outrageous idea struck.
And it infused her whole body with so much joy, she knew she had to go for it.
ChapterSix
Jaime hit the ground running.
