Sunflower Lane Read online

  “Oh, not just yet, dear. I forgot to mention your mother’s dear husband, Doug Hartigan. Such a lovely man, and a big improvement, as we all know, over Hoot—well, I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but—”

  “Mom,” Diana interrupted, “let’s get you settled. I think the meal is about to start. Would you like some iced tea?”

  “I’d love some,” Tess jumped in. “Iced tea sounds great. Let me pour you a glass, Mrs. Todd.”

  Annabelle hunted for her own place card as Charlotte hugged first her mother and then her aunt. Then she embraced Tim’s mother, who was slightly overdressed in a lacy sheath and large pearl earrings.

  “You all look so beautiful, and everything looks wonderful. Thank you for doing this! You all know I’m superstitious, but today I feel very, very lucky, and it’s because I have all of you!”

  It was a lively lunch, enjoyed by women who’d mostly all known and enjoyed one another’s company for years. And after those first embarrassing moments of being startled by Ava’s eager endorsement of her grandson’s good qualities, Annabelle relaxed and enjoyed herself.

  Privately, she thought it was very kind of Wes to volunteer to watch the kids. But it wasn’t surprising, now that she’d come to know him. Right before she’d left her house, he’d drawn her into the kitchen for a long, deep kiss that almost made her want to stay right there in his arms. But when she’d finally forced herself to head to the door, he’d helped her load the party food and Charlotte’s gift into the car, and the last glimpse she’d had of him, he’d been settling into an armchair in the living room, flipping the tab on a can of Coke, while the kids were already clustered on the sofa, watching an episode of Lassie on DVD.

  They were all into it, not only Megan. But it had stunned Annabelle that her niece, who was so afraid of dogs, absolutely loved this show about Lassie! She took it all in, fascinated, even shushing Michelle and Ethan as they gasped when something dangerous happened to Timmy, or when they clapped and laughed after Lassie saved the day.

  Megan did none of that. She just stared, unmoving, at the flat-screen, and at Lassie, her rapt gaze following the dog everywhere.

  “Who made this amazing strawberry pie?” A sweet voice broke into her thoughts. Ava Louise Todd’s voice.

  She realized that everyone was halfway finished with their coffee and dessert and she’d taken only one bite of Charlotte’s mom’s famous cream cheese–frosted carrot cake.

  “That would be Annabelle.” Charlotte grinned. “The only thing better than her strawberry pie is her homemade chocolates.” She snagged one of the wedding bell chocolates from the candy dish, popped it into her mouth, then pushed back her chair. “I’m dying to open my gifts. Can I start now? If there’s any sexy stuff, I’m just saying, I want to open that first!”

  Everyone laughed. Still smiling, Annabelle stood to help clear the tables as the guests began pouring into the house, settling on the sofa and some armchairs and folding chairs to watch Charlotte open her gifts. As she moved toward the sliding glass doors, her arms laden with plates, she saw Diana Hartigan and Sophie had also been stacking dishes to bring indoors. But while Sophie was chatting and laughing with Mia as they gathered up plates and silverware and serving pieces, Diana stood stock-still. Her unreadable but unsmiling gaze was fixed intently on Annabelle.

  She looked . . . tense. It was the only way to describe it.

  How long has she been staring at me? Annabelle wondered with a jolt. The very instant Annabelle met her gaze, Diana seemed to freeze. Then, without so much as a nod or a word spoken, she quickly looked away, started toward the house, and slipped inside with her armload of plates and silverware.

  She hates me. She definitely hates me. And she hates the idea of my being involved with her son in any way at all.

  A weight seemed to anchor deep in her chest as she carried the big fruit bowl toward the house. She tried to ease the pain tightening her throat, telling herself she couldn’t really blame Diana. The hurt of her husband’s affair with Aunt Lorelei, and the hugely public revelation of it, had spread through Lonesome Way like a dozen wildfires blazing all at once.

  That time in Diana’s life couldn’t have been anything less than agonizing. Aside from the devastating pain of her husband cheating on her, it had been a highly public scandal that had circled through the town, rocking everyone. Not only Diana’s closest friends and family knew what Hoot had done, and how much he’d hurt her, but everyone in Lonesome Way knew as well, and even those in outlying areas as far away as Big Timber, Bozeman, and Livingston had probably heard about Hoot McPhee and the wife of Lonesome Way’s mayor.

  It was front-page news for weeks.

  Annabelle understood all that. She was ashamed that her aunt had done something so despicable and caused such pain not only to another woman, but to another family. And she supposed she really couldn’t blame Wes’s mother for reliving it all every time she saw Annabelle. Even though Diana was now happily remarried, and Hoot was dead, Diana had no doubt been irreparably scarred by her husband’s affair.

  Even hearing her son’s name linked with Lorelei’s niece had to shatter the woman with a devastating reminder of that time when her marriage had been torn apart in the most humiliating way possible.

  She must despise the thought of Wes being anywhere near me, Annabelle realized.

  No small wonder that when Ava had pressed about a possible romance between her and Wes—none too subtly—Diana looked like she wanted to walk out of the room.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by oohs and ahhs and laughter. Charlotte was holding up a delicate ivory silk negligee. The older women smiled appreciatively, while the younger ones laughed and applauded. Tess was unwrapping swirls of ribbon and gaily colored paper from the next gift, which turned out to be a set of three cast-iron frying pans, large, medium, and small, along with a cookbook.

  Annabelle hurried forward to help repack the opened gifts. There were beautiful candlesticks, lovely crystal bowls, several sets of place mats and matching cloth napkins, a gorgeous silk tasseled table runner, and, from Carly Tanner, a lovely blue, violet, and yellow good-luck-charm quilt.

  Annabelle tried hard to focus on Charlotte’s delight at each gift, and to forget about the things she couldn’t change—including the sensibilities of a woman who’d been hurt beyond repair. Diana McPhee would be relieved soon enough when Wes left for Wyoming and began his new career.

  Far away from me. And I’ll get back to my own life. . . .

  She knew she needed to simply ignore that raw splinter twisting through her heart whenever she thought ahead to the fifth of July—the day Wes would actually leave town.

  It would be hard, she knew, but she’d have to get past it.

  Thank heavens she was plenty busy with the kids—and a month after Wes left, they’d be getting ready to go back to school. By September there’d be homework and after-school sports and activities. She’d start trying to get her chocolate business launched—in a small way, at first—and maybe she’d find a paying renter for the cabin.

  She’d probably be so busy she wouldn’t even have time to miss him.

  Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  Suddenly, she heard a gasp and a scream. Her attention was yanked back to the pretty living room where the gifts were being opened.

  But Charlotte wasn’t opening anything. She was frozen, holding up a crystal pitcher for all to see, and she was staring. Everyone was staring.

  At Tess.

  “What just . . . Oh my God,” Tess gulped. She grabbed the arm of a chair and sank down. Her face turned pale, and Annabelle rushed to her, as did Charlotte, who stared at the liquid running down Tess’s legs.

  “Her water just broke,” Ava Louise Todd announced crisply. She stood, taking charge as Patricia and Susie rushed forward to Tess’s side. “Clear the way. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave the rest of the pr
esents for later, Charlotte. Someone needs to get this little mama to the hospital right now!”

  “John! I need John,” Tess gasped. She looked scared to death.

  “We’ll get him for you, honey.” Annabelle knelt beside Charlotte’s mother, and took Tess’s hand.

  “Are you having contractions?” Dorothy, who’d been the high school principal for decades before she retired, got right to the point of the matter.

  “No . . . I’m . . . not sure. . . . I don’t think so. . . .”

  “Tess, do you think you can walk? Just out to my car?” Annabelle studied her friend’s panicked face. “I’ll drive you to the hospital right now. I think John should meet us there.”

  “Take my car,” Charlotte’s mom piped up quickly. “It’s a Chevy and not an SUV. She won’t have to step up, just slide inside.”

  “Towels, we need towels,” Charlotte told Aunt Susie.

  “Yes! What’s wrong with me? One minute.” Susie hurried off to the linen closet while Annabelle speed-dialed John.

  He wanted to come get Tess himself.

  “I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Tell her to slow everything down until then.” He hung up before Annabelle could say another word.

  “I think your husband needs a lesson in female anatomy,” Mia’s great-aunt, Winny Pruitt, muttered with a snort. “Doesn’t he know a woman can’t slow things down once that baby makes up its mind to pop out?”

  There was sweat on Tess’s forehead, tiny beads of it clinging to her hair and skin as everyone pressed around her.

  “Let’s give her some space, some air.” Diana McPhee stepped in, calmly shooing the guests crowding in around the chair where Tess slumped, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Don’t be scared,” Charlotte murmured, kneeling beside her.

  “Someone should . . . call the hospital . . . or alert Doc Carson,” Tess said faintly.

  “I’ll do that, sweetie. No worries.” Sophie whipped out her phone.

  Annabelle felt helpless, and desperate to do something. Then, remembering when Trish had gone into labor with the twins, she suddenly raced into the kitchen, dampened a cotton dish towel with cool water, and returned to dab it around Tess’s face. “John will be here any minute,” she said soothingly and prayed she’d hear his car pull up right now.

  “I know.” Tess peered anxiously into her eyes. “It’s just . . . so early. I’m only thirty-seven weeks . . . and f-four days. . . . I need to get to thirty-nine weeks! Annabelle, last time . . .” She gulped and couldn’t say another word.

  “This isn’t last time, honey; it’s now.” Annabelle held the cool cloth to her friend’s forehead. “You’re close to being full-term. Very close. Your baby just can’t wait to meet you face-to-face.”

  But as she met Tess’s frantic eyes, her heart turned over at the panic deepening in their depths.

  “Listen to me, Tess—babies come early all the time. My friend Ginger in Philly delivered more than three weeks early and had a super healthy baby boy. They only kept her in the hospital a day and a half. And Trish delivered Ethan twelve days early. No problem.”

  Still looking scared, Tess managed to nod. “You’re right. Everything will be . . . fine. It’s just . . . you know. . . .”

  “We know, honey.” Patricia took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Just try to relax. Take deep breaths.”

  Suddenly Charlotte grinned. “Hey. Want to watch me open some more gifts while we’re waiting for John? That ought to distract you.”

  “S-sure.” Tess tried her best to smile.

  “I’m kidding.” Charlotte drew in her breath. “But if John doesn’t get here in the next two minutes, I might have to bean him with one of those frying pans.”

  John did arrive less than three minutes later—he must have been going fifty miles per hour, Annabelle guessed—and carried Tess out to his Jeep. He loaded her in, put pillows and towels supplied by Aunt Susie all around her, and, with all of the women either looking out the front window or standing on the lush lawn watching him, took off like a shot toward the hospital.

  Annabelle pulled Charlotte aside. “You should open the rest of your gifts,” she said when they were gone.

  “I know, but all I want to do is go to that hospital and see how she’s doing!”

  “So do I, Char, but we can’t just leave. Your aunt and your mom went to a lot of trouble to make this shower beautiful. You’re the guest of honor. Look at all these people and all these gifts,” she added softly.

  “So what am I supposed to do? Forget that Tess is about to give birth early? She’s terrified of losing this baby, too!”

  “You’re right. She is. She needs us, whatever happens.”

  “So . . .” Charlotte swallowed. “We go?”

  “Not yet,” Annabelle whispered. “You open your presents and thank everyone—quickly!”

  Charlotte began to protest, then looked at the pretty living room packed with guests, and the still-high pile of gifts. She sighed. “You’re right. Why are you always right?”

  With quick steps, she returned to the gift table and Annabelle moved forward to help unwrap.

  “Hurry,” she said, so softly only Charlotte could hear, as the guests stopped chattering about Tess and began settling down around the gift table once more. “Open them, Charlotte. Fast. Then we go.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Wes had faced fugitives, drug lords, and thugs with an ease born of experience, but he’d never run herd over three active kids for an entire afternoon.

  Make that four kids, he thought, as he watched Ethan and his pal Jimmy tossing a ball in the open field that bordered Annabelle’s house.

  Treasure was out there, too—chasing the ball, retrieving it when they threw it for him, and loping around the field, happy as a puppy.

  Megan and Michelle had kept Wes more on his toes than he’d imagined possible, starting from the time Annabelle took off for the bridal shower. They’d been practicing their tap routine for the past forty-five minutes and again wanted an audience. He got the boys to come in and watch for a short time, but soon they rebelled, and he was left to watch the girls tap-dance to “Yankee Doodle Dandy”—minus tap shoes and costume—at least six or seven times.

  He was surprised by how entertaining it was. The girls were about as cute as they could be—surprisingly good dancers even at this age, and their smiles just about knocked him out—but it would have been far more entertaining if he were watching Annabelle dancing right along with them.

  He decided he might just have to ask her for a private dance performance later. Preferably in a very skimpy costume, if any at all.

  She still hadn’t come home yet after calling to tell him that Tess was in labor, already at the hospital, and she was headed there, too—unless he wanted her to come home and take over right away. She was worried that he couldn’t handle the kids all afternoon, but he’d assured her he’d handled worse and this was a piece of cake.

  Watching over kids wasn’t exactly his field of expertise, that was for sure, but it was fun, in an unexpected way. Not quite as challenging as a midnight raid, he thought with a grin, as Megan ran over to him and told him breathlessly that they’d practiced real hard and would he watch them one more time?

  This time she promised, there’d be no mistakes.

  “Sure thing, honey.” His heart nearly melted at the way her little freckled face lit up. Michelle had shyly asked him whether he was bored with watching them rehearse. He’d assured her he loved it.

  Most of the time, the only way he could tell those two apart was by their demeanor—and their clothes. Plus the fact that Megan was an inch taller, and far more boisterous in general than her sister. She said whatever was on her mind, and had more freckles on her face and scrapes on her knees than her twin.

  Michelle seemed to live inside her head most of the
time. A thinker, reader, and dreamer, that one. A very sweet one.

  “Most boys don’t like dancing that much,” Michelle commented shyly after he agreed to watch the routine yet again late in the afternoon. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

  “I do want to. I like watching you guys do this dance. Everyone in town is going to love it.”

  “We’re dancing after the parade, though.” Megan sighed. “There’s going to be a lot of other stuff going on. Do you think other people will come to watch, not just all the moms and stuff?”

  “Sure, ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ is the best song of the Fourth of July. Lots of people are going to want to watch.”

  “Ethan won’t,” Michelle piped up. She ran over to the biggest section of open space in the living room and got into position for the opening pose of the dance. “He only cares about basketball, baseball, and the treasure. He wants to go to the parade just to eat ice cream.”

  “Who cares?” Megan shot over to join her. Neither wore tap shoes inside the house. They’d only been practicing the steps to get the routine down pat. “Watch us just one more time, okay?”

  “You got it. Ready, set, go.” He clicked on the music, which he’d had to download at their request onto his cell phone, and settled down on the cream and blue sofa, watching and applauding enthusiastically when they took their bows, admiring Annabelle’s clever, fun choreography and the girls’ no-holds-barred energy.

  Still he missed Annabelle—and he had a few ideas for the evening ahead, after the kids were sound asleep. He kept glancing at the time, wondering when she’d be back.

  He may not be used to supervising kids, but they were easy. Really good kids. Great kids, actually. Still, his admiration for her grew. She was here for them, day in and day out. Giving it her all. Supporting them and nurturing them.

  And she did it all with so much love.

  He wished she were back here right now. He had a lot to tell her about Megan, he realized, as from outside, Treasure let out several loud, deep barks, and raced madly around the field chasing that ball.