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“You know he cares!”
“Then she should’ve considered how he’d feel. She’s leaving town after she sells her aunt’s house. You realize that, don’t you?”
“Of course I realize that.”
“So what’s your plan here? Do you think she’ll fall in love with you, sell her business and move back to Coyote Canyon?”
“All I want is for you to leave her alone,” Brant said. “You got that? No more stitches or other injuries. No more screwing with her relationships. Go on about your business as you should’ve done from the beginning and don’t try to hurt her again.” Message delivered, Brant turned on his heel and strode back to his truck. But just as he was getting behind the wheel, Charlie yelled.
“She’s going to break your heart into a million tiny pieces, and I’m going to laugh my head off when she does!”
Ignoring him, Brant shifted into Reverse and whipped out of Charlie’s rutted drive. Talulah wasn’t going to break his heart. He’d have to be in love with her for that.
Talulah couldn’t stop fidgeting. She’d been too anxious about the funeral to sleep, so she’d gotten up well before dawn and written her speech. Then Jane had come over to see how her arm was and to help with the food, and they’d managed to finish everything before noon.
After Jane left, Talulah had jumped into the shower and she was now ready with forty-five minutes to spare. She’d even spoken briefly to her sister—no labor pains yet, just her best wishes for a smooth funeral—and painted her fingernails, something she rarely did because she used her hands so often in her work.
It didn’t matter how prepared she felt, however; nerves were still getting the best of her.
Wearing a black sleeveless dress with a strand of pearls at her neck and matching stud earrings, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if she should’ve worn something else for the day. She looked like she was going to a swanky cocktail party in Seattle and didn’t want to be overdressed. Some of the people here might assume she’d gone “big city” or was trying to show off. And funerals did seem, generally, to have grown more casual since she was a kid. But her whole goal was to make her aunt proud, and she knew Phoebe believed strongly in convention. In her aunt’s opinion, nothing short of a nice black dress would be appropriate for a funeral, so that was what Talulah was going to wear.
Fortunately, if she had her guess, many of the women from Phoebe’s church would also be in dresses, so she shouldn’t feeltooout of place—or any more out of place than she would for other reasons.
As she slipped her feet into a pair of Christian Louboutin heels—shoes Paul had purchased for her when they were out celebrating the first anniversary of their business and she happened to see them in a store window—she mentally rehearsed the remarks she planned to make when it came time for her to speak. Sarah Carrier had emailed her the program. She’d be last, which came as both a relief, because she’d have a chance to get accustomed to the room and summon her nerve, and a concern, because she’d have so long to dread it.
Grabbing a small black clutch, she put her lip gloss inside, along with some tissues. Since all the food had been picked up, she didn’t have to worry about that. She dabbed perfume on her neck, hurried downstairs and locked the front door behind her without having to carry anything awkward or heavy.
She was trying not to twist an ankle while crossing the uneven ground to the garage when her phone signaled an incoming text.
Preparing to let her mother know that everything was set for the funeral and all was well, she looked down. But it was Brant who’d messaged her.
You feeling okay about the funeral?
Since she was so early, she took the time to respond.As good as I can feel.
Are you sure you don’t want me to be there?
It’ll only make the divide between you and Charlie wider. Let’s at least leave the possibility of you two becoming friends again for after I return to Seattle.
I doubt that’s going to happen.
Why?
He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he asked another one of his own.What about Jane? She going?
No. I told her the same thing—not to drive a bigger wedge between her and Averil.
Will you call me after it’s over and let me know how it went?
She bit her lip as she tried to decide how to respond. Maintaining a friendship with him meant she’d only keep thinking about him, missing him, wanting to see him again. And she still hadn’t heard from Paul. He refused to pick up when she called. He wouldn’t text her back, either. She was afraid she was facing a major rift with him and was worried that he might be hiring an attorney to try to take control of the dessert diner.
That thought caused terror to rise inside her, but she quickly tamped it down. She couldn’t think about Paul or her business right now. She had to get through the next several hours first. And it wasn’t as if Brant had suggested she sleep with him again. He’d merely asked her to let him know about the funeral. How could she say no to that?
Sure, she responded and dropped the phone into her clutch before climbing into her SUV.
The church wasn’t far, only a five-minute drive, but she planned to arrive early. She didn’t want everyone staring at her as she walked in. But the parking lot was already half-full when she got there.
“Shoot,” she mumbled as she pulled into a stall.
