If anything, Leta appeared to take real pride in getting Lindsay and Gage together, a pride Hassie shared. She was firmly convinced that if it hadn’t been for their efforts in guiding the young couple, Gage and Lindsay might never have figured out what Hassie and Leta had seen right off—they were meant to be together.
Hassie wouldn’t want to take bets on who was the more stubborn, Lindsay or Gage. They seemed equally matched in that regard, as in so many others. At their wedding, Hassie had shed a few tears. Leta, too.
“Kevin seems happy,” Lindsay said, studying the drawing.
Lindsay had been responsible for finding Kevin the opportunity to attend art school. His going had been the source of a major disagreement between her and Gage.
It had been a brave thing for Kevin to stand up to his family and tell themhe didn’t want to be a farmer, he wanted to study art. Technically, the land Gage farmed belonged to his half brother, but Kevin had no interest in living the life of a farmer. It was Gage who loved the land, who’d worked it and paid off the debts incurred by Kevin’s well-meaning but financially irresponsible father. In Kevin’s view, the land didn’t belong to him; he considered it more burden than blessing, and so he’d deeded the family farm to Gage. His older half brother had earned it. Then, with a wisdom and maturity beyond his years, he’d announced that he had his own path to follow. Hassie had rarely seen more courage in a boy of that age.
“I think he’s happier now than at any time in his life,” Leta said, and her eyes shone with pride and perhaps the sheen of tears. “Thank you, Lindsay.” Leta hugged her and Hassie reached for her kerchief, blowing hard.
“You ready for one of those home pregnancy test kits yet?” Hassie asked.
Lindsay blushed.
“Hassie,” Leta chastised. “They’re newlyweds.”
“So? Doesn’t mean Lindsay can’t get pregnant now if that’s what she wants.”
“I don’t need any home pregnancy kits,” Lindsay told her, and then winked. “At least not yet.”
Saturday morning, with her weekly shopping list in hand, Lindsay left her husband winterizing the farm equipment and drove to town. As she neared Buffalo Valley, she reflected on her own happiness, the deep contentment she felt these days. She’d made the transition to married life with hardly a pause. At thirty, she’d been ready for marriage and prepared, mentally and emotionally, to start her family.
Only yesterday, Hassie had teased her about being a newlywed. Marrying Gage was the best thing she’d ever done. Never in her life had she been this certain about any decision. A hundred times a day she sent up a prayer of thanks that she’d moved to Buffalo Valley and met Gage—and that she hadn’t made the mistake of marrying a vain, self-centered man like Monte Turner. It astonished her now that she’d been so blind about Monte all those years. Gage was everything she could have wanted in a husband, and their being together was a gift both refused to take for granted. She could hardly believe that her heart could hold this much love.
The fact that Maddy had purchased Hansen’s Grocery was a bonus that brought Lindsay a twinge of joy every time she thought about it. They’d been best friends their whole lives, sharing more than some sisters did. When she’d first moved to Buffalo Valley, Lindsay had poured out her heart in lengthy, emotion-filled letters to Maddy. And they spoke frequently—her long-distance phone bills last winter were as high as the heating bills.
Maddy, who’d always been intuitive, had realized the potential in Buffalo Valley long before Lindsay had seen it herself. Without her friend’s encouragement, Lindsay didn’t know if she would ever have found the courage to leave Savannah and her dead-end relationship with Monte.
Then, right after the wedding, everyone had been stunned when Maddy announced she was buying the grocery store and moving to Buffalo Valley, too. Everyone but Lindsay. From the moment Maddy arrived for the wedding, Lindsay sensed that her friend had come to stay.
When she returned to Savannah to pack her things, Maddy’s mother had tried desperately to change her daughter’s mind. Lindsay had said nothing one way or the other; the decision rested entirely with Maddy. She’d known for a long time, though, that her friend was unhappy with her job. Unhappy, overworked and underpaid. Maddy needed an out, and Buffalo Valley needed her.
Now she was here, and pretty soon Maddy would be an integral part of the community. The people of Buffalo Valley would quickly see what a prize they had in Maddy Washburn, and they’d come to value her generosity, her sincerity and humor the same way Lindsay did.
When Lindsay had arrived a year earlier, Buffalo Valley was fast taking on the appearance of a ghost town. Only a handful of businesses had survived the farm crisis and those that had were hanging on by a thread. Joy had left the community; so had self-respect—and hope.
She’d had her students write about their families’ histories in the area, and that was when she’d seen the first spark of rekindled pride. Those papers had given Lindsay an idea. With the support of the town council and the help of nearly everyone in Buffalo County, the high-schoolers had written a play entitled Dakota Christmas. It was no small undertaking, but together the entire community had renovated the town’s old movie house for the performance.
People came from as far away as the Canadian border to see the play. Almost every family saw a part of its own history re-enacted. The play had been the highlight of that first year of teaching for Lindsay. In the months that followed, with the theater cleaned and repaired, the owners had decided to keep it open. Second-run—and occasionally brand-new—movies were regularly shown these days, to the delight of everyone in town and beyond.
That old theater was the only source of entertainment, other than taverns, in a fifty-mile radius, and it’d brought people back into Buffalo Valley once again. Buffalo Bob’s 3 OF A KIND was thriving, thanks in part to the karaoke machine. Sarah Stern had recently rented a store for her quilting shop and was offering classes to local farm wives. Rachel Fischer’s weekend pizza parlor was open five days a week now. It was encouraging to see the town slowly return to life, and Lindsay experienced a sense of elation as she parked the truck in front of the grocery.
Maddy was in the front, manning one of the two registers, when Lindsay walked in. Busy with customers, her friend took a quick moment to acknowledge her with a cheerful wave.
Lindsay reached for a cart and headed down the aisle, amazed once again at the difference in the store. Not that Maddy stocked anything the Hansens hadn’t. The change was in the atmosphere, in the impression people got when they stepped inside.
The Hansens had lost heart. That had been apparent outwardly, in the carelessly arranged shelves, the lack of any interesting displays, the sometimes dirty floors. It was also revealed in the attitude the Hansens brought to their work. Whenever Lindsay had come into the store, she’d been subjected to a litany of everything that was wrong with the community, the country and the world in general. After five minutes of listening to doom and gloom, she always left feeling depressed and annoyed.
Maddy was lighthearted and friendly, and most people were drawn to her. Her beauty was undeniable, but she’d never bothered much with makeup or worried about style, which she thought of as trivial concerns. Once, in college, Lindsay had accused her of downplaying her attractiveness and Maddy had vehemently denied it. Not until years later did Lindsay really understand or appreciate her friend’s uniqueness. Beauty, natural or otherwise, meant little to Maddy. She accepted people exactly as they were—herself included.
Lindsay hoped fervently that Maddy would find the same happiness she had. There’d never been a long-standing relationship for Maddy. Once she’d started her job as a social worker for the state, her