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If I didn’t need something else to worry about, I still had twenty contracts to fill, and now, when we finalized the Twisted Twines contract, I would have my hands full with work. Sam was another worry in the back of my head, but now that I knew Rayna was helping her, the vivid fear I once had mellowed to a calmer concern.
Sam had gone off with Rayna that morning, and I hoped the two would compromise about what to do. I knew Sam was very averse to what she considered girly things, like playing with dolls, dressing up, or talking with other girls about boys—God help me with that.
If anyone can get through to Sam, it is Rayna. She’s been in Sam’s shoes.
I tilted my head back and gave myself time for the pills to work when my mind drifted…to Emily. Something twisted in my gut; it was not guilt, it was not sorrow or pain, it wasn’t even shame. I wasn’t hung up on the idea that she would look down on me or hate me for moving on with my life and filling the void she had left. As a matter of fact, I thought she would like Rayna.
No, it was not one of those emotions. I felt regret…regret that she had not lived long enough to see her kids grow and blossom into the sweethearts they were.
“Oh, Sugar-bun,” I sighed, using Emily’s old nickname. “I wish you were here.”
My phone rang, and I reached for it. It was my PA in Houston. “Ewan, what do you have for me?”
“Just a reminder, sir, that the county fair is coming up in two weeks, and I want to check in if you would like me to set up your usual booth,” Ewan said. “You know it is a wonderful marketing opportunity, and I think even the smallest presence would do much.”
I rubbed my face. “I don’t know, Ewan. I think I already have enough clients for a while.”
“You do know there is something called a waitlist,” Ewan said. “Your business is going to expand, sir, and you will need a constant stream of clients going forward. This is the perfect chance to start that list.”
Even with my reservations, business sense and strategy prevailed. “Sure, set it up, and give me the specs.”
“I surely will,” Evan replied, then paused, “But fair warning, sir, from the manifesto I am seeing, Brandon West will also be there with his larger-than-life, bull riding, roping, ranching setup. I am aware that you’ve bested him with the Twines contract. Do you think it will be fine still?”
“You could have led with that, y’know,” I grumbled. “I really do not want to see the petty man anywhere.”
“So…what I am hearing is to make the arrangement but keep your business at the opposite end of the field from his,” Ewan replied.
“I suppose,” I replied. “Just keep me abreast of your arrangements.”
“Will do,” Ewan replied.
When we closed the call, I headed out to get something to eat because my stomach was rumbling and grumbling like an ogre. “I need to stop thinkin’ I can survive on coffee for hours.”
When I got to the empty kitchen, I opened the fridge, took out a tray of cold cuts, potato salad, and some fresh vegetable salad, and made a plate. With my food ready, instead of sitting, I leaned on the counter and ate while my mind ran to Rayna and Sam. I had to have some faith in Rayna to somehow balance Sam out, so she could embrace both parts of her person.
The doors opened, and Harper came running in, her backpack half off her back and her hair a mess. “Whoa, girlie. Hold your horses,” I called out as she ran to the fridge. “What happened to your hair?”
“Jungle gym,” she replied while tugging a juice box from the chiller. “I played a lot today.”
I was still stuck on how my daughter’s hair looked like she’d done a spinning headstand on it and then fixed it with cement. Harper hopped up on a stool and jabbed the straw into the box. She swung her pretty pink-pony-clad leggings while drinking.
“Where’s Sam?”
“She’s out with Miss Everett,” I replied. “You remember when you asked me if Sam would be okay? Well, Ms. Everett is helpin’ her get better.”
“That’s good.” Harper nodded. “I want Sam to get better.”
“So,” I cut into my beef. “What happened at school today?”
“Math,” she wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like math.”
I laughed. “Neither did I, kiddo. You must’ve gotten that from me. Your mom, God rest her soul, was a whizz at math. No wonder Sam is so good at it.”
“I like story time,” Harper replied. “It’s fun, and Mrs. Powell does so many voices for the people in the book; it’s funny. I want to talk like her one day.”
I finished my meal and played a sneak attack on Harper, grabbing her out of her chair, spinning her around, making an airplane of her, and zooming her around the room. She was giggling her head off, and I was laughing too. This felt so natural, so soothing to just play around. I rarely had times like these with them, but I treasured every single one I could do with them.
“I know you’ll be like Mrs. Powell, sweetheart, because you’re a chatterbox.” I laughed, throwing her up and catching her. “You’ll talk the ears off an elephant.”
