Dakota Home

“That’d be wonderful.” Maddy waved at Rachel Fischer, owner of The Pizza Parlor, as she came into the store.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lindsay said, mulling over her idea. This was going to work out so well, discussing ideas with Maddy and not having to pay long-distance telephone rates to do it!

An afternoon with Lindsay was exactly what she needed, Maddy thought as she drove out of Buffalo Valley early Sunday afternoon. They’d barely had time to do more than greet each other in passing since Maddy had moved to town.

So much had happened during the first few weeks. As soon as the store was officially hers, Maddy had painted the outside and spruced up the grocery’s interior—scrubbing and waxing floors, dusting shelves, washing windows. She would’ve liked to change the sign out front, but that meant laying down money needed elsewhere. Working seven days a week, although the grocery was closed on Sundays, Maddy was definitely ready for a break.

Lindsay was waiting for her on the porch steps, with Mutt and Jeff, her dogs. “I made us a Cobb salad,” she said as Maddy climbed out of her Bronco. The dogs, who knew Maddy well, greeted her with ecstatic barking and wagging tails.

“Hi, guys!” Maddy crouched to give them both some enthusiastic ear-scratching and tummy-rubbing, then got up to throw her arms around Lindsay in a hug. “Hi, you.”

“Come on inside.” Lindsay held open the door and Maddie entered the house as the dogs dashed past her. Lindsay grinned. “They never change, do they? Now sit down before the salad gets warm and the bread gets cold.”

Maddy had never seen Lindsay happier and wished she could find that kind of contentment, too.

“You made the bread yourself?” Maddy asked. “I’m impressed.”

“I’ll have you know I’m turning into a halfway decent cook. And baker. I bought the butter from you, though.”

Maddy bowed in mock acknowledgement. “Hey, where’s Gage?”

“He’s off visiting Brandon Wyatt,” Lindsay answered. “He said he didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of a female gabfest.”

Maddy pretended to be insulted, but she didn’t really mind. And even if she had felt slighted, she could forgive Gage just about anything. She’d liked him from the moment they’d met, and couldn’t be happier that Lindsay had married such a good man. Gage was hardworking, decent, honorable. And Maddy had recognised the attraction between them immediately. She’d had a feeling that first afternoon that this was only the beginning. And she’d been right.

“Okay,” Maddy said once they were sitting at the table over their salads and warm, crusty slices of sourdough bread. “What’s your idea?”

“It has to do with Sarah Stern.” Lindsay clasped her hands in front of her and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I was thinking about having my uncle Mike display her quilts in his furniture store.”

“That’s a stroke of genius!”

“Thank you, thank you.” Lindsay nodded regally and stabbed a slice of avocado with her fork. “You and I both know how beautiful Sarah’s quilts are, but Uncle Mike doesn’t. Not yet, anyway. He’s particular about the store and the displays. Mom showed him the gifts I brought last Christmas—the quilted table runners—and he liked them, but he hasn’t seen an actual full-size quilt yet.”

Lindsay’s uncle owned one of the more upscale furniture stores in Savannah. Anything purchased at Mike’s was quality. He wouldn’t be an easy sell.

“I hope this works out,” Lindsay added, frowning slightly. “I don’t know why, but Sarah and I have never really connected. A number of times last year, I could have used a friend like Sarah, but she rebuffed every effort I made.”

“She’s been nothing but kind to me,” Maddy countered.

“Of course she has. She likes you. It’s me she has a problem with.”

“She’s warming up, though, don’t you think?”

Lindsay reached for a slice of bread and slathered it with butter. “Somewhat,” she agreed. “The thing is, I genuinely like Sarah, and I think she’s very talented. She gave Gage and me a quilt as a wedding gift and it’s exquisite. I’d like to help her, if I can, and in the process get to know her better.” Lindsay hesitated. “In knowing Sarah, perhaps I’ll understand Calla better, too. I worry about that kid.”

“Calla?”

Lindsay propped her elbows on the table. “You know—teenage angst.”

Maddy studied her friend and admired her for the caring, generous teacher she’d become this past year.

They chatted about the town and Lindsay’s growing relationship with Angela Kirkpatrick, her long-lost aunt. The two had become close and Maddy knew it thrilled Lindsay to have family nearby. They communicated mostly through e-mail, but had also visited each other several times. Angela had met Lindsay’s parents at the wedding, and they kept in touch, as well.

After a while, Lindsay’s eyes grew serious. “Are you going to tell me what happened in Savannah?”

Maddy knew that eventually Lindsay would get around to asking her. As an idealist, she’d gone into social work, believing she could make a difference, and she had. What she hadn’t expected was the toll it would take on her own life. In the eight years she’d worked for the state, Maddy felt she’d given away so much of herself, there was nothing left. So many people needed help. More than she had to give. Unfortunately, she’d learned that the hard way.

Early in the year she’d faced the biggest crisis of her career with thirteen-year-old Julie Pounder—and everything had gone wrong. Julie was dead, and while Maddy knew she wasn’t to blame, she felt responsible. She hadn’t been able to deal with the aftermath of the girl’s death; she still couldn’t. Every time she thought about it, she wept, and didn’t want to spoil this afternoon with tears.

“I can’t talk about it yet,” Maddy said, not wanting to elaborate further. “I will in a month or two.”

“All right,” Lindsay murmured and affectionately squeezed Maddy’s hand. “We’ll change the subject.”

Maddy was grateful. “Tell me what you know about Jeb McKenna.”

“Jeb,” Lindsay repeated slowly. “You like him?”

“I don’t know him.” She could see that Lindsay was already reading something into her curiosity. It was her own fault for asking, but the strong, silent types had always intrigued her.

“You’ve met him and I haven’t,” Lindsay reminded her.

“True.”

“Calla’s mentioned her uncle quite a few times and I know about him, but I’m afraid I can’t be any help.” She met Maddy’s eyes. “You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”

Maddy hesitated, not sure how to answer. Yes, she was attracted; in fact, Jeb fascinated her. She suspected that behind his gruff exterior lay a kind, gentle man, one she’d like to know.

“I guess I am interested,” she admitted after a lengthy pause.

“Oh, Maddy…” Lindsay sighed. “I’m afraid Jeb McKenna will only break your heart.”

Sunday evenings were traditionally the slowest of the week for Buffalo Bob. Most folks tended to stay home. He’d thought about closing the restaurant on Sundays, but hell, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if it wasn’t for cooking and serving up a beer or two. Besides, he had to keep busy or he’d start thinking about Merrily again.

She’d left, gone five weeks already. He’d never understood what made her come and go the way she did. Things would be just fine for a while and then suddenly, without explanation, she’d disappear.

Usually she didn’t even bother to write him a note. Other times she’d leave something on the pillow. Something he knew she treasured. He guessed it was her way of telling him she’d be back.

Nothing seemed right without Merrily. A thousand times over the past three years he’d told himself he was better off without her. But he couldn’t make himself believe it because deep down he knew it wasn’t true.

He rode a Harley and wore his hair in a ponytail, and most folks assumed he’d belonged to a badass motorcycle gang. The truth was, he’d never been involved in gang activities. Oh, he dressed the part, purposely gave people that impression, even dropped hints about the lifestyle—but it wasn’t true. None of it. He’d been a loner most of his life. He liked to suggest he’d been places and done things he could never talk about, but he hadn’t, although he did have a few connections. He’d been on the fringes of a few shady deals, but nothing serious and nothing he was willing to brag about, especially now that he was a business owner and a member of the town council.

Yeah, he was a success these days—a genuine, bona fide establishment success. His father would never believe it.

Bob knew he’d made his share of stupid mistakes, but he was a man who wanted the same things every other man did. And that included his own woman. He’d known right away that Merrily was the one for him. He was crazy about her.

He probably shouldn’t be. For all he knew, she could have ten other men just like him in places all around the country. He had no idea where she went or who she was with. Only once in all this time had she mailed him a postcard. It’d come from someplace in California in the middle of winter, when the wind-chill factor lowered temperatures in Buffalo Valley to Arctic levels. He’d been shivering his ass off and she’d been getting a tan on a California beach.

Locking the door, Buffalo Bob shut down the restaurant and bar for the night. No need to sit in an empty room, cranky and depressed, when he could do the same thing in front of his television.