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That hashtag was only used in emergencies. It meant one of us was in trouble, and we needed to rally together to help whoever was in need. We didn’t use it unless a situation was serious. Soren’s trip to the emergency room after he was tossed from a horse and broke his leg came to mind. Another time Mama’s appendix had nearly burst, landing her in the hospital. A few years back, Caspian had been devastated when his girlfriend left him high and dry, not only in his personal life but at the restaurant. She’d been his primary hostess and front of house manager. One day, without warning, she’d left the ranch with her former boyfriend, who had arrived to win her back. He’d done so, leaving Caspian heartbroken and vowing never to date anyone he worked with again.
In all cases, we’d come together to help, whether it was taking over duties at the ranch for Soren or helping Pop encourage Mama to rest after her surgery.
What was wrong? I hoped it wasn’t anything too serious.
I grabbed my keys and called for Scout. “Come on, girl, we’re going to Mama’s.”
She barked and met me at the door.
Mama greetedme with her customary hug, holding on for just a moment too long. Since I’d moved back, she acted a bit the way Scout did when I came home after being gone any amount of time. Scout greeted me with such enthusiasm, I felt sure she thought I was never coming back.
“Mama, it smells good in here.”
“Caspian’s over,” Mama said. “He’s actually taking the night off and letting Elliot cook at the restaurant. He and your father have been cooking jambalaya all afternoon.”
Mama and Pop had taken a step back from the business now that my brothers ran things. They’d moved from the main house to the one Pop had bought when he first moved to Montana. Thad, Soren, and Caspian all shared the big house, living like three bachelors. Rafferty, having just opened his medical practice in Bluefern a year ago, had balked at the idea of living at the house he grew up in, saying that seemed like a step backward. Instead, he and Pop had remodeled a house just outside of town, set on a small lake. He wanted to be close to the office in case one of his patients had an emergency. Rafferty never did anything halfway.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “We haven’t used that hashtag in a while.”
“I’ll explain. Have you seen the news today?” Mama crossed her arms over her chest.
“No, why?” I knelt to brush the snow off Scout’s paws before she tracked them all over Mama’s wood floors. Since they’d done the recent remodel, the house was a showpiece.
“Well, it’s just that…” Mama trailed off.
I stood to get a better look at her. Her voice sounded weird. “Mama, what is it?” Was her hand trembling?
“It’s about Annie.”
My heart nearly stopped. “Is she okay?”
“Yes, I think so. It’s just that some ugly reporter dug up the old story about Rex and Jennie. One of those gossip rags. And you know how it is now. The story just went everywhere. What do you call it?”
“Viral,” I said, throat dry.
“This morning Annie went on one of those talk shows. I can’t remember the network, but it’s the one with the lady who has all that fake blond hair.”
“Kat Jenkins.” I knew her. Or my marketing person had, anyway. We’d tried for years to get her to interview me in her upcoming business segments, but no one ever got back to us. I’drun into her at a party last year before the sale had been announced. She’s had a few martinis and basically asked me out in exchange for a spot on the show. She’d make sure of it, she’d said, squeezing my arm. I politely declined.
“Yes, anyway, this Kat person kept hounding her with questions, trying to get her to cry. You know how they do that. Annie kind of lost her temper and basically stormed off the set, making everything worse. That’s viral now too.”
“Poor Annie.”
“I know. Just when her career is taking off too,” Mama said. “I wish we knew how to get a hold of her.”
“Can’t you call her dad?” I asked.
Mama shook her head. “No, I feel weird sending him a message out of the blue when we haven’t talked in years. It was clear he wanted to move on after they left here. I don’t blame him, of course. We all wanted to put it behind us. I follow him on the Facebook, but we’re not really friends.”
“Just Facebook, Mama.”
“Right. Facebook.”
I followed her into the kitchen where Caspian and Pop were debating if the sauce needed more salt or not. The scent of tomatoes and spice wafted up from the pot simmering on the stovetop.
“Heya,” I said. “Smells great.”
Pop grinned and waved his spatula in the air like a baton. “We’ve outdone ourselves.”
