Amy blinked, her blues eyes guileless. “No. Why would you think I had?”
Feeling guilty for suspecting her friend of pitying her, Casey said, “It just was so out of the blue.”
Mouth quirking, Amy said, “Like your sister’s return was out of the blue?”
“Yeah. What’s up with that? She said she’s here for the reunion. But three weeks early? Something’s up.”
“Have you asked her about it?”
“Not really,” Casey said, a bit sheepishly. “We don’t have the kind of relationship that most twins do. Or at least, we haven’t since we moved to Alaska. Everything changed. She shut me out.”
“That must have hurt,” Amy said, in a gentle tone. It had.
“I got over it.”
Amy steepled her fingers on the desk. “Her joining the Rodgers tour might be a really good thing, then. You two might grow closer.”
Of course Amy would think of the situation as an opportunity for the sisters to bond. Amy was an idealist in many ways. Casey, not so much.
“It’s just so infuriating that my sister would weasel her way in like this,” Casey said, sure that Amelia’s motivation had nothing to do with a desire to be out in nature and everything to do with Jake. Not that that was any of Casey’s concern. “Who is Amelia kidding? She’ll hate it and make everyone miserable.”
Amy slipped off her serviceable clogs and propped her sock-clad feet on the arm of her chair. Little penguins, dressed in frilly outfits, marched up the sides of her long, white socks and disappeared beneath the legs of Amy’s khaki pants. “Give her a chance. She may have changed.”
Casey scoffed. “If the way Amelia’s taken over the house is any indication, no, she hasn’t. Her stuff is everywhere.” Jamming her hands into the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt, Casey slunk further in her chair. “My bathroom now reeks of some flowery perfume that makes me sneeze every time I go in.”
“She does kind of apply a lot,” Amy said, with a grin. “But a stinky sister isn’t what’s really bothering you, is it?”
It was so like Amy to see to the heart of a matter. Casey groaned. “No, it isn’t.”
“Come on, tell me,” Amy cajoled.
“It’s just that article and…oh, I don’t know.” She hated to come across as whiney and ungrateful. How did she explain this growing discontentment gnawing away at her nicely ordered life?
It wasn’t even the fact that she was the brunt of so many jokes since that article came out—though the snickering was getting old. What bothered her most was that, deep inside she felt hollow, empty. Like something was missing.
Her gaze snagged on a framed photo of Amy and her late husband, Ben, and their two boys. What a beautiful family. They looked so happy.
That’s what Casey wanted. A family of her own. A love like Amy and Ben had shared. She held tight to the knowledge that their love proved love existed.
An uninvited memory escaped from the recesses of her mind and tore across her brain, reminding her that love came with a price. A price she’d paid once. A price that left her wounded and discouraged.
She slapped the memory down and stuffed it back into its box inside her head, and refocused on the grief of her friend’s loss.
Amy searched her face, as if she sensed her pain. “I’m sorry that article has caused you hurt.”
Casey waved away Amy’s self-imposed guilt. “I don’t blame you. And it’s really the truth. I’m ‘one of guys.’” She made air quotes to emphasize her words.
“A role that you’ve perpetuated. You keep everyone at arm’s length. I think it’s time for you to stop keeping yourself so isolated. Be open to a relationship.”
“But the risk is too great,” Casey murmured. She didn’t want to lose someone she loved again. She’d lost her parents, Uncle Patrick and, essentially, Amelia. Another name floated into her consciousness. She ignored it.
Amy gave her a sad, direct look and said softly, “I know. But the risk is worth it, Casey. I wouldn’t trade one single ounce of heartache if it meant not having ever loved Ben.”
Ouch. Direct hit. “Just rip my heart out and feed it to me, why don’t you, Amy?”
Amy’s lips twitched. “Hey, if you didn’t want the truth, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”
Casey sighed. “I know. You’ve never pulled any punches with me, and I appreciate it.”
“Jake Rodgers doesn’t think of you as ‘one of the guys,’” Amy stated, with a curving of her lips, as she mimicked Casey’s air quotes.
“Not yet, maybe, but give him time.” Casey rolled her eyes. “I’m not his type, anyway.”
“And you know this how?”
“He’s a city guy now, regardless that he was born here. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a beauty queen. Amelia’s more his type. Glamor and glitz. Besides,” Casey pointed out, “he’s a single dad trying to raise his daughter. What do I know about kids?”
Amy gave her a chiding look. “Casey, you’re great with kids. The boys love you. And you’ve dealt with children on several tours and did great, so don’t use his daughter as an excuse to keep him at arm’s length.”
“But I’m no good at the dating thing.” She cringed, remembering the last date she’d been on.
Bucky Holland, the town’s mechanic and one of the town’s many bachelors, had invited her to dinner at Martelli’s, a fancy grill in town. Casey had looked forward to the date with hopeful anticipation. Maybe this time a date would end differently.
But the evening had consisted of forced conversation and awkward silences. When he dropped her off and roared away in his big rig—faster than if a bear had been chasing him—she’d decided dating wasn’t her thing.
“Just be yourself, Casey. If a relationship with Jake or any other man is part of God’s plan for your life, then everything will work out, regardless of your sister or that article.”
Tugging on her bottom lip, Casey wished she shared Amy’s convictions. But trusting God was something Casey couldn’t do. Not ever again. A blast of anger blew through her. She’d trusted that God would answer her prayers and make Uncle Patrick well. God hadn’t. She’d trusted God to protect her heart when Seth came into her life. Another prayer ignored.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Amy called.
Rachel stepped inside. “The police chief is here to see you, Amy.”
“Tell Reed I’ll be a moment longer,” Amy said, her voice taking on a slight edge.
Anticipation? Or irritation?
When Rachel shut the door, Casey raised an eyebrow. “A social call?”
Amy brushed a lock of red hair back behind her ear. Beneath her smattering of freckles, a blush brightened her cheeks. “No. We don’t have that kind of relationship. I’m sure there’s some official reason he’s stopping by.”
Glancing at the photo on the desk, Casey knew Ben would want Amy to find love again. Rising from her seat, Casey said, “He’s a good man, Amy. Ben wouldn’t mind.”
Amy frowned, as a shadow of sorrow passed over her expression. “Now who’s ripping whose heart out?”
Casey held up her hands in a show of