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  She could tell that Jake didn’t think he would. She could see the skepticism in his eyes. As well as the pity.

  But all he did was shrug.

  “Three pies is still too much.”

  * * *

  The last few days before Thanksgiving passed in a blur. Mattie dusted and vacuumed the girls’ bedrooms, washing the clean linens so they would be fresh and putting a potted mum on each of their nightstands.

  She didn’t stop at three pies—she made six—freezing the extra apple ones, just to have on hand. She also baked chocolate chip cookies and pumpkin spice muffins, and went to Green Valley Farm near Ronan to pick up the fresh, organic turkey that was her standing order.

  Ten years ago, back when Wes’s parents, Garth and Jude, were still alive and they had at least three or four men working on the ranch, her table had been at capacity for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now it seemed, every year she set the table for one or two fewer people.

  She didn’t like this empty nest phase of life, not one bit.

  Tuff was growing, healthy and relentlessly energetic. Mattie had laughed, watching her jump and run with delight through her first snowfall. Every day she did something cute that made Mattie smile. And something naughty that had the opposite effect. Tuff loved tussling with Mattie’s leather cowboy boots more than any toy. She’d almost decided to give up and let the pup have them. She needed a new pair anyway.

  But was it worth investing in new boots—if Wes ended up selling the ranch?

  Almost every hour she butted up against thoughts like this. She hadn’t realized how much her expectations of the future impacted her everyday activities, but they did. In the end she decided there was no way to function except to assume she would stay at Bishop Stables.

  And so that’s what she did.

  But her appetite remained dull and her sleep was plagued with disturbing dreams. The night before she was to pick the girls up at the airport, she could feel Wes in bed beside her. The weight of his body on the mattress, the heat of his skin, the smell of his hair. The relief was incredible. You’re home. She reached out to touch his face but like magic he vanished and she opened her eyes to face a cold, empty bed.

  Knowing it was not a habit to encourage, she couldn’t resist pulling Tuff up from her bed and placing her on the quilt near her feet. The puppy snuggled in happily. And she decided she didn’t give a hoot what the dog training books said.

  The next morning she felt a buzz of happy anticipation. In six hours, she would see her girls. She couldn’t wait.

  She hummed along to the radio as she did the morning chores. She caught Jake smiling a few times, too.

  “What time do they get in?”

  “Around noon. I booked their flights so they arrive about thirty minutes apart. Hopefully they’re both on time. I checked when I got up and so far everything’s on schedule.”

  The drive to Missoula took a little over an hour. Mattie had showered and styled her hair. She was wearing a bulky sweater with skinny jeans and boots—fashionable ones, not the pair she used for work which Tuff had now all but destroyed. Hopefully the sweater would disguise her loss of weight. But some changes couldn’t be disguised. The sharper angle of her cheekbones. The lines around her eyes. The jutting of her clavicle.

  Wren’s flight arrived first, and she came off the plane looking just like the girl who’d left three months ago. Skinny jeans, Ugg boots and a plaid shirt layered with a sweater, then a vest, and scarf wrapped haphazardly over it all.

  “Mom. It’s so good to see you.”

  Mattie hugged her tight, not able to say a word. Tears were flowing, she couldn’t seem to stop them. She clung to her daughter, thinking no hug had ever felt so good.

  “Dad’s not here.” Wren’s voice was flat. Not a question. She had expected this.

  Reluctantly Mattie eased her hold. “No. Not yet.”

  Wren didn’t challenge that. Instead she suggested they get a coffee while they waited for Portia.

  “Good idea.” As they stood in line at Montana Traders, Mattie kept stealing glances at her daughter’s face. She’d been wrong when she’d thought Wren hadn’t changed. There had been subtle shifts in her face and her posture, reflecting a young woman who was more confident and independent than she’d been a few months ago. The change could be heard in Wren’s voice when she placed their orders for lattes, and in the way she organized the lids and napkins, taking care of Mattie the way Mattie was used to doing for her.

  “Tell me more about the poli-sci class you love so much.” Once Portia arrived, there wouldn’t be time for serious topics, and besides, this might prevent Wren from asking awkward questions about Wes.

  “It’s amazing to me how much Aristotle figured out. That was thousands of years ago! And yet we seem to have a lot of the same problems today as the Greeks did back then.”

  “That’s a profound observation. I can see why you’ve impressed your prof.”

  “Oh, Mom. I’ve really missed you. Talking on Skype just isn’t the same.”

  Mattie’s shoulders tightened. Was Wren going to mention her father again? “No. It isn’t.”

  “I wish we had more time to ourselves before Portia comes. It’s selfish of me. But she’d going to get off the plane looking like a fashion model and talking about all her friends and sorority parties... and make me feel like such a loser just because I went to college to study.”

  Relief washed over her... along with a dose of motherly concern. If only her girls could learn to be happy with who they were and stop the comparisons. But how did she help them do that?

  “Wren, figuring out who you are is one of the hardest things in life. But once you truly are comfortable with your own identity, you’ll find other people’s attitudes won’t bother you so much.”

  “Are you saying you don’t have a problem with how obsessed Portia is about her looks? I mean—it’s vain, right?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with dressing fashionably per se. The question is, why do you do it? Is it because you enjoy and appreciate nice clothing? Or is it because you feel you need to dress that way to make people like you, or to fit in? Being true to yourself doesn’t mean dressing in rags. At least, it doesn’t have to be.”

  “Is that how you think I dress? In rags?”

  “Honey, no! You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

  And it was a good thing she got those words out when she did, because Portia was running toward them now, and she did look as put together as a fashion model in a skirt, tights and a short red wool coat. Taking a firm grip of one of Wren’s hands, Mattie abandoned her coffee and rushed forward to greet her second daughter, this time all three of them forming a nice, tight knot.

  “It’s so good to see you guys.”

  To Mattie’s relief, she didn’t ask about her father.

  “I can’t wait to get home.”

  “And see Tuff,” Wren added.

  “Oh my God, I was so excited to see you guys I almost forgot we have a new puppy! Let’s get going!”

  * * *

  The puppy was a huge hit with the girls, but to Mattie’s surprise, once they’d settled in a bit and had a late lunch, they both wanted to go out riding.

  “Seriously?” The last few years she could hardly get either of them on the back of a horse, unless it was for something major like the Double-D roundup.

  “I’ve missed the horses more than I thought I would,” Wren confessed.

  “Me, too,” Portia added.

  Mattie couldn’t have chosen a better way to spend the afternoon with her daughters. The only dark spot was Wes’s continued absence. The girls didn’t mention him though, until later, after they’d had chili and cornbread for dinner and finished a movie about zombies that turned out to be more entertaining than Mattie expected.

  “So when is Dad getting here?” Portia asked.

  To Mattie the room seemed suddenly far too silent. “I was hoping he would be here by now... but it may not work out.”


  “Oh well. It’s still good to be home in our very own house, with you... and Tuff.” Portia patted the puppy sleeping in her lap.

  Wren said nothing, but Mattie could feel her gaze, and the worry that lay behind it.

  Unfortunately there was nothing she could say to set Wren and Portia’s minds at ease. Whether or not Wes showed up for Thanksgiving, she was going to have to tell her daughters what was going on this weekend.

  But until that moment, she’d do her best to keep cheerful and enjoy their company.

  “Tomorrow I expect you girls to help me with the dinner,” Mattie said briskly, getting up from the armchair. “You need to start learning your way around the kitchen, and so, I’ve pulled out all our usual Thanksgiving recipes.” She grabbed the cards from the counter and fanned them in one hand. “Do you want to choose what you’re cooking? Or make a random pick?”

  “Random will be more fun,” Portia said. “I’ll go first.” With Tuff still sleeping in her lap, she covered her eyes and held out a hand. Mattie moved closer putting the cards within reach. Portia’s hand hovered... then she selected one.

  “Sweet potato casserole.” She studied the card a moment. “This doesn’t look like your handwriting.”

  “It’s Grandma Carrigan’s.” Sadly, to her daughters, the name meant little. They only knew her mother from photographs and stories she’d told of her childhood.

  She held out the remaining cards to Wren who closed her eyes, then plucked out another of Grandma Carrigan’s recipe card. “Cranberry coleslaw. Whew! I was afraid I would have to do the dressing and turkey.”

  Mattie put the remaining cards back into her copper recipe box. “I’ve already made the pies, so with you girls helping out tomorrow, dinner will be a snap.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Portia slid off the sofa and went to wash the dog hair off her hands. “Nat Diamond called while you were in the shower. He wanted you to know he’s moving hay tomorrow morning and did you need any?”

  With only twenty-two horses? “We don’t.”

  “That’s what I thought. But then I asked him why he was working on Thanksgiving and he said it was just another day to him. So I invited him to dinner.”

  Mattie froze for a second. Then smiled. “Good.”

  But it wasn’t. If Wes did happen to show up tomorrow and found Nat at the table—he might not be too happy. Then again, that was his problem. She’d raised her girls to be hospitable and of course Portia was right. It wouldn’t do for Nat to be on his own at Thanksgiving. Not when he’d done so much for them over the years. And they’d certainly have enough food to go around.

  Not to mention pie...

  “Mom, Nat used to be married, didn’t he?” Wren was taking her turn with the puppy now, playing tug-of-war on the carpet by the fire. Tuff reveled in the extra attention, had barely napped since the girls arrived. The pup would surely sleep well tonight.

  “Yes. Her name was Julia.”

  “I sort of remember her.” Portia was in the cupboard now, looking for the chocolate chip cookies. When she found the container, she took a couple. “You want one Mom?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “She was gorgeous.” Portia crossed the room to hand Wren the other cookie, then perched on the arm of the sofa. “She had wavy blonde hair and always wore pretty dresses.”

  “Of course you would remember that,” Wren said quickly, then flushed when she noticed Mattie’s glance. “Not that there’s anything wrong with pretty dresses.”

  “Well, they’re not exactly practical on a ranch,” Mattie said.

  “So what happened to her?” Wren asked. “Why did they split up?”

  “It’s hard to say. But I’m sure it didn’t help that Julia disliked the ranch and the isolation of Montana. I remember her complaining that we weren’t even close to an International airport. She liked to travel.”

  “Well, why’d she marry Nat then?” Portia asked, indignantly. “How did they even meet?”

  “Nat had an aunt in Seattle, she owned an art gallery and Julia worked for her. That’s how they met. And they fell in love. But I guess Julia never thought through the part where she was going to have to move to Montana and live on a cattle ranch. Or maybe it seemed romantic to her at the time.”

  Out of respect for Nat’s privacy, Mattie didn’t mention the rest. How Julia had started drinking shortly after the wedding, and taken any excuse to leave on a trip to visit friends or relatives. Finally she’d run off to New York City with a man she met on the Internet.

  “They didn’t have much in common, huh? Not like you and daddy.”

  Mattie stared down at her hands. “True.”

  “I’m tired,” Wren announced abruptly. “Mom, can Tuff sleep with me, tonight?”

  Portia looked disappointed she hadn’t thought to ask first. “Can I have her tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Why not alternate for as long as you’re home. A word of warning though—Tuff gets up early. And you have to take her out for a pee right away. She’s still a puppy.

  “Oh.” Wren didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic about that. But she still cuddled the puppy close to her chest as she stooped over to give Mattie a kiss. “It’s been a really nice day.”

  “For me, too.” Mattie ran a hand over her daughter’s silky hair, before she left the room. Yawning, she wondered if Portia was ready to sleep as well. But her other daughter was in the kitchen again, putting on the kettle, looking as bright-eyed as when Mattie had collected her at the airport.

  And then Mattie remembered—it was an hour earlier in Seattle.

  “Want some Sleepy Time tea, Mom?”

  “Sure.” No matter how tired she was, she wouldn’t turn down an offer to sit and chat with one of her daughters. “So—how are your classes? Are you keeping up with the work load?”

  “I’m managing, Mom. Psychology is my favorite—Aunt Dani is a really good teacher. The kids pay attention when she’s talking.”

  “Dani’s passionate about what she does. She’s a great public speaker, too. Smart, funny, with great timing.” When she was younger, Mattie had been in awe of her next-in-line sister. Dani’s confidence and wit had made Mattie feel dull and slow in comparison.

  But over the years Mattie had grown out of the petty rivalry. She’d never exchange her life for Dani’s, so how could she resent the gifts that had made Dani who she was?

  “What about your social life, Portia? From our calls it sounds like you’ve made lots of new friends. Are they all from your sorority?”

  “Mostly.” Portia’s voice was bright, but the very brief pause before her answer was telling.

  “You mention Kirsten often. Tell me more about her. Do the two of you have lots in common?” Mattie had always been impressed with Portia’s ability to make friends. Not only make them, but keep them. Most of the little girls she’d hung out with in kindergarten remained in her circle all the way through high school. She wondered if this new friend would fall into that “keepers” category.

  Another pause while Portia poured boiling water into mugs, then carried the tea to the table by the sofa. “We both enjoy dancing. And Kirsten has amazing taste in clothes. She’s also rich, so she can afford anything she wants. Not that I’m envious,” she added quickly. “Kirsten’s really generous about lending me things.”

  “Don’t you have enough of your own?” Mattie was a little worried to hear the answer. It had seemed to her and Wes that Portia’s budget for clothing and other extra spending was fair, if not extravagant.

  “I do. It’s just—sometimes Kirsten likes to dress me up. Like I’m a doll or something. It’s just fun, Mom. All the girls in the house share clothes.”

  Something about that made Mattie uneasy, though she knew Portia had often traded clothing with her high school friends, too. “So you’re glad you decided to join a sorority?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I wonder if Wren should have gone that route, too. She’s loving her classes but al
l she ever seems to do is study.”

  “I told her to. But she never listens to me.”

  Mattie felt a yawn coming and just couldn’t stifle it. “Honey, I’m afraid I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” She gave her a hug, and was surprised when Portia squeezed her tightly in return.

  “Dad will be here tomorrow?”

  This time it was Mattie who paused before answering. “I hope so.”

  In her bedroom, with the door closed, Mattie took out her phone, dismayed to see no missed calls or text-messages. With a sigh, she typed out a message to her missing spouse.

  “What time are you coming tomorrow? Both girls are here. They miss you. Dinner is at six.” She hit send, then waited for a reply.

  After ten minutes she gave up and prepared for bed, brushing her teeth and her hair, putting on a pair of cozy flannel pajamas. If Wes wasn’t going to live up to his promise to be home for the holiday, what did that say about the other promises he’d made? That he wouldn’t sell the farm. Would respect their marriage vows and not get involved with other women?

  But she couldn’t start obsessing about all that now. She was too exhausted—physically and mentally. She closed the drapes, feeling the cold seeping through the glass panes. Another Arctic front moving in, but no snow fortunately. She was going to miss having Tuff at her feet tonight—though having both her daughters sleeping under the same roof as her tonight was more than enough compensation.

  By the time she’d turned out the light and crawled into her bed, there was still no reply from Wes. She put the phone on the pillow by her head then went to sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  To Mattie’s surprise, both girls were up early to help with chores the next morning. Tasks that they’d often complained about bitterly were performed cheerfully today. Clearly they’d missed not only her, but also Jake, the horses, the barn cats. Jake’s step had an extra spring to it as he supervised the goings-on. Several times Mattie caught him watching one of the girls, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth.