Behind the camera, she adjusted the settings and took a picture. “Now turn slightly and look over your shoulder a little at me and smile.”
“Em, I feel silly.”
“Smile and cooperate. I’ll buy you a loaf of bread when we leave.”
“You’re really good at this bribery business.” He turned and smiled and she snapped some more.
“Now, want to see your pictures? I can get proofs for you while we go get that loaf of bread.”
“I don’t really care about seeing my picture, but I definitely care about that bread. You don’t have to buy it. I’ll go get it and you get your proofs or whatever you do. What kind do you want me to get?”
“I love the sourdough.”
“Sourdough, coming up. I’ll be back.” He left and she worked quickly on the proof. She was examining them when she heard the bell in front. She scooped up the proofs, turned off lights and hurried to meet him.
“I have two loaves of bread and they smell almost too good to wait to eat. Ready to go?”
“Yes, look. You take a very appealing picture.”
She held a couple of proofs out for him to see. He barely glanced at them but smiled at her. “I’m a very appealing subject,” he said and she smiled.
The sun was low in the west when they left her shop. As soon as they were in the car, she turned to him slightly. “When we leave here, get ready for a shock. The house is in terrible condition. At the last, Uncle Woody was so ill—”
“Emily, I’ve meant to tell you that I’m sorry I missed being at his funeral.”
“There wasn’t any reason for you to fly back from your business trip in Wyoming. I never asked you if you bought the ranch,” she said, realizing how far apart they had grown. In times past he would have been at her side for her uncle’s last hours and through the service. She would have known whether Tom bought another ranch in Wyoming and he would have discussed his decision with her before he did anything. They were moving farther apart and the divorce was inevitable, but right now, she didn’t want to give any satisfaction to Maverick and neither did Tom, so they’d stay together.
“No, I didn’t buy it. If I buy another ranch, it’ll be in this part of the country,” he said. “I’m beginning to rethink getting someone else to run it. I have to be hands-on with a ranch.”
She was quiet when they turned on the street where she had lived from the time she was nine years old until she had married Tom. Big sycamores and oaks lined the road. Tiny green leaves covered some branches, but many had bare limbs. The aging sidewalk was pushed up by tree roots. Tom slowed in front of the three-story house and turned onto a driveway where grass filled the cracks of aged concrete that had disappeared beneath a cover of weeds.
Tom parked beside the back corner of the aged house. “I want the car out here where it can be seen. If anyone has been watching you, whoever it is will know this isn’t your car. I want Maverick to know I’m here with you, that the email didn’t work and didn’t hurt either one of us.”
“It gives me the shivers to think someone might be watching me,” she said. “I never even thought of that.”
Tom gave her a look and smiled. “You’re trusting.”
He cut the engine while he gazed at the house, and she studied it with him. Long ago it had been painted white, but now the paint was peeling. There were gables on the front and west sides with a shingled roof that needed replacement. The large round tower on the east side had broken windows and all the ground floor windows were broken. The house had a wraparound porch with wooden gingerbread decoration that had shattered through the years and ornate spindles that were broken.
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