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She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or sore muscles that had driven her out of bed three hours before her Monday morning alarm. She could see it now—a wanted poster with her mug on it. The large print underneath would read World’s Biggest Impostor.
Not to mention actually driving off with her belongings—at least, many of them—to move into her little camp cabin.
But riding again? That had been far more fun than she’d expected, and thankfully, Vivien had agreed to head to Duluth for a shopping trip.
Beth shoved her last three T-shirts and two pairs of jeans into her suitcase, closed the lid, and snapped the latch. She loaded her laptop into her bag, along with assorted files and reports she’d spent too many hours poring over.
She hadn’t expected Noah to hand her three new file folders to go through. Without an assistant, he’d fallen behind. Focused on the highest priority—which apparently was whatever was in front of him. And that hadn’t been the horse camp.
She exhaled, long and slow. She could do this. Possibly.
Or she’d grossly overestimated her ability to run the horse camp.
She gave her bedroom a last look before dragging her bags out to the living room. Her suitcase wheels clunked across the floor.
Dad sat at the kitchen peninsula, drinking his coffee. “It’s going to be quiet around here.”
Aw, Dad.
She walked over and gave him a hug from behind, the smell of Old Spice enveloping her in cozy comfort.
“You’ll be able to enjoy your coffee without interruption,” she offered, then cringed. That sounded like a rather lame consolation prize. “You can get Eli to come by for a sleepover and take him fishing.”
He took a drink. “Yeah. I could do that.”
“Or get Dylan to come grill when you’re tired of my Crock-Pot freezer meals.”
She and Dad had handled Mom’s departure differently than Dylan. Her brother had seemed to shake it off—move on, delve into an apprenticeship after high school, and focus on his construction career.
But he hadn’t been there in those first hours, when grief tore from her life the dad she’d known. He hadn’t heard the soul-deep cries that night when Dad had thought he had the privacy to release his pain.
And here she was. Leaving him. No, not like Mom. But leaving him alone nonetheless. And that stung. Because everything she was and everything she wanted to be amounted to “anything but like Mom.” She didn’t break her promises.
For the first time, she waffled. Wavered. Wondered.
This might be the best thing for both of you.
“You’ll still see me, Dad.” She released her hug. “I have the Crock-Pot set up.” She checked the heat and timer setting on it. “Tonight at five, you’ll have beef stew. And there are mashed potatoes in the refrigerator you can heat to go with it, plus a loaf of Fox Bakery French bread.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
The house had never seemed big before, but with the thought of him eating dinner alone in it, night after night?
It seemed…palatial.
Hopefully Janet would come by. Dad could use the company, and Beth hated the thought of him eating alone every night.
Grayson had come back with a big bunch of nothing from his recon at Dad’s table. Whatever they’d been talking about, the subject had abruptly changed to her when Grayson arrived.
Yeah, well, she’d seen the expression on Janet’s face. She hadn’t been talking about Beth. She’d looked to be hanging on Dad’s every word. It was well past time Dad entertained a romantic interest.
“Was that Janet talking to you at church yesterday?” Beth measured her words.
Dad stood and scrubbed creamer drops from the counter like they might cause a stain. “Um, Janet? Oh…yeah.”
“She seems nice. I haven’t had much opportunity to chat with her.”
He let out a noncommittal sound.
