Cradling the mug in his hands, Andrew stared out the window. He now sat only blocks from the place where she created her masterpieces.
He had to admit he wasn’t sure how it was going to feel to finally be face-to-face with his runaway fiancée.
Andrew lifted the strong brew to his lips and took a long sip. One thing was certain—he’d come for answers.
He wasn’t leaving Wyoming without them.
* * *
Sylvie eased the ancient minivan to the curb a block down from Benedict and Poppy Campbell’s home in Spring Gulch. Instead of hopping out, she remained in the vehicle and tried to recall just why she’d accepted an invitation to the backyard barbecue.
She rarely attended dinner parties or barbecues as a guest. But then, she didn’t meet friends at the Coffee Pot Café after church on Sundays, either. Heck, she didn’t even go to book club, though reading was a favorite pastime.
Part of the reason for her reticence had to do with not growing up in a world where people had dinner parties or barbecues. She hadn’t known book clubs even existed. As a child, she hadn’t known anyone who read for pleasure.
Sylvie and her mom had been too busy trying to survive to think about books. Subsisting on groceries bought with food stamps, their “home” had been a run-down apartment courtesy of public housing.
When her mother took off and left her when she was thirteen, Sylvie had discovered that life was even worse in foster care.
She pushed the painful memories aside and reminded herself those times were over and done. When she’d moved to Wyoming, she promised herself no looking back. She’d stuck to her vow.
With the exception of earlier in the week, when she thought she’d seen Andrew on the streets of Jackson. That night, she’d pulled out her engagement ring and done some reminiscing.
Though her heart still ached whenever she thought of him, Sylvie still believed that leaving Andrew had been the right decision.
Keeping his ring, however, had been wrong.
It didn’t matter that the three-carat diamond had been her last connection to him.
It didn’t matter that the ring wasn’t a family heirloom.
It didn’t matter that she had a good reason at the time for taking the piece of jewelry with her. She’d feared Andrew might be so distraught over her leaving him that he might fling the ring, one that had been specially designed for her, off the Longfellow Bridge and into the Charles.
Sylvie closed her eyes briefly. The trip down memory lane had dumped her spirits into the basement. Would it really be so horrible to drive off? No one had seen her. There was still time for a quick getaway.
The only reason she hesitated was that this party was for Josie. Her friend had made it clear she wanted her maid of honor to attend.
Giving in to the inevitable, Sylvie opened the van door. She stepped out, careful not to brush up against the dusty side of “Ethel,” the 1996 Dodge Caravan she’d purchased shortly after arriving in Jackson Hole.
Though some of the light blue paint had peeled and there was a dent in the back from a shopping cart gone wild, the van started like a dream. Once she’d had the seating in the back removed, it had a good-sized cargo area for hauling cakes.
As Sylvie gazed over all the shiny vehicles lining the street in this affluent Jackson Hole subdivision, it struck her that Ethel didn’t fit in here any more than she did.
Sylvie glanced down at her skirt with its orange, red and black diagonal stripes and hesitated. For tonight’s festivities she’d coupled the skirt with gladiator sandals and a black tank. Skin showed from a few inches above her belly-button ring to just below her navel.
This barbecue would bring together the movers and shakers of Jackson Hole. She’d be as out of place here as she’d have been in Andrew’s world.
Coming tonight had been a mistake.
Sylvie was reaching for the door handle when Tim and Cassidy Duggan pulled behind her van in a shiny red SUV, boxing her in. She heaved a resigned sigh, then walked over to greet Cassidy and her husband.
Marriage and motherhood hadn’t changed Cassidy. The hairstylist wore a bright blue skirt with an animal-print tank. The bold pairing eased Sylvie’s trepidation about her own outfit.
Though Cassidy was married to a prominent pediatrician, from what Sylvie knew of the woman’s background, it mirrored her own humble beginnings.
After an exuberant greeting, Cassidy looped her arm through Sylvie’s on the walk to the house, asking if she’d brought a cake to the barbecue.
“No cake, but I whipped up a batch of cupcake burgers.” Even though Poppy, the hostess, had insisted she didn’t need to bring anything, Sylvie had dropped off the novelty treats earlier in the afternoon.
She’d told Poppy it was so she didn’t have to bring them with her tonight. The truth was, delivering the promised treats early had left the door open to skipping the party.
Cassidy’s husband, Tim, dressed conservatively in khakis and a navy polo, cocked his head. “Cupcake burgers? Sounds like something Esther and Ellyn would enjoy.”
Esther and Ellyn were Tim’s twin girls from his first marriage. A widower, Tim had raised the girls alone until he and Cassidy had married last year.
“I bet they’d love ’em. They sound so unique and fun.” Cassidy tapped a finger against her lips. “Are cupcake burgers difficult to make?”
“Super easy. You start with vanilla cupcakes and a tray of brownies.” As they covered the short distance to the porch, Sylvie explained how she cut circles of brownies for the burger and used colored frosting for the mustard, ketchup and lettuce wedged between the vanilla cupcake “bun.”
“You’re amazingly talented.” The sincerity in Cassidy’s voice had warmth flooding Sylvie’s heart, even before the stylist added, “Not to mention you look absolutely stunning tonight.”
The simple compliment was the confidence booster Sylvie needed as Poppy opened the door. Despite being seven months pregnant with baby number two, the hostess looked elegant in gray linen. She greeted them warmly, giving each of them a quick hug.
Sylvie lost Cassidy and Tim on her way to the back patio. She’d expected to see a grill or two, maybe several picnic tables and a few lawn chairs. Instead an outdoor barbecue “kitchen” embellished with stone accents was the focal point of the large patio. Tea lights hung on brightly colored ribbons from thick branches of leafy trees that provided an umbrella of green.
A pergola extended over an outdoor kitchen bar, where the buffet had been set up. Bouquets of brightly colored flowers sat amid a multitude of decorative bowls filled with a variety of salads. Sylvie spotted her cupcakes with the other desserts. The nearly empty baking-sheet-turned-decorative-fabric-tray told her the cupcakes were a hit.
Benedict and his father, John, manned the grill, which filled the air with the delicious scent of roasting meat. Poppy seemed to be the official greeter while her mother-in-law, Dori, was making sure everyone had a drink and mingled. Unlike parties where hired help did the serving, this barbecue appeared to be a family effort.
Sylvie accepted something called a Crazy Coyote Margarita from Dori, then caught sight of the bride-to-be across the yard chatting animatedly with several women. Josie saw her at the same moment and motioned her over. The excited smile on her friend’s face told Sylvie that coming to the party this evening had been the right decision.
With a spring in her step, Sylvie stepped off the flagstone patio and onto the lush green grass. She had paused to take a sip of her drink when the back of her neck began to prickle.
An instant later, a hand closed around her arm and a familiar masculine scent washed over her.
“Hello,