“Because of Jeffrey,” she said. “My ex-husband.”
“What did he do?”
Kendra considered for a long time before replying, “He swept me off my feet, married me and promised me the moon. For a while, he even delivered. We traveled all over Europe after the wedding—it was a small, justice-of-the-peace ceremony—but oddly enough, we never got around to visiting his family in England. They didn’t approve of me, as it turned out, but Jeffrey said I shouldn’t let that bother me. Love conquers all, et cetera. We came back here, bought this house from the Rossiter estate and made plans to start a family of our own. He had plenty of money, and I was stupid enough to think I’d found someone to take care of me.”
“And?” Joslyn prompted, when Kendra fell silent.
“And a week after we closed on this monstrosity of a house, his father fell ill and Jeffrey flew straight home to London. Next thing I knew, he was calling to say so sorry for any inconvenience, but he wanted a divorce. It had all been a colossal mistake, our getting together. Several million dollars suddenly appeared in my personal bank account, and his ‘solicitors,’ as he called them, sent me the deed to this house. That was it. The fairy tale was over.”
“Ouch,” Joslyn said, reaching across to give her friend’s hand a light squeeze. “That’s brutal. Did Jeffrey ever give you a reason?”
Kendra swallowed visibly and shook her head. “He didn’t have to,” she replied presently. “I don’t know if his father was really sick, or it was just a ruse to get Jeffrey to come home, but once he got there, the home folks wasted no time convincing him that what we had together was just an unfortunate fling that must be curtailed at once, and damn the cost. Apparently, Jeffrey came around to their way of thinking. They raised the drawbridge and slammed the caste gate shut in my face and that was that.”
“The bastard,” Joslyn said with spirit.
“Amen,” Kendra said.
Joslyn bit her lip, hesitant to speak but in the end unable to resist putting in her two cents’ worth. “Still,” she said, “to give up on love seems a little rash, doesn’t it? I mean, how likely is it that that will happen again?”
“I loved him,” Kendra said simply.
“Yes, but—”
“I’d better get back to work,” Kendra interrupted. “I have to prepare the contracts for the chicken farm and get copies to both parties, and, of course, there’s the barbecue to plan.”
“Right,” Joslyn said, standing up and carrying her cup and Kendra’s to the sink.
“I could really use your help figuring out the food,” Kendra said.
Inwardly, Joslyn sighed. There was no way out—Kendra had given her a job and a place to stay, and, besides, they were friends. She’d have to join in the festivities, like it or not.
And she was more than willing to help.
“How many people are you inviting?” she asked in cheerful resignation.
“You’d better figure on at least a hundred,” Kendra said. “Probably more.”
By then, heading for the inside door, she had her back to Joslyn and probably thought her friend hadn’t seen her swipe at both cheeks with the heels of her palms as she dashed out of the kitchen.
* * *
SHOPPING WAS NOT Slade’s favorite way to spend his time off.
He and his newest deputy, Jasper, were on their way home from the big discount store that morning, in Slade’s pickup, when Layne called him on his cell phone.
“I think I’m insulted,” Layne said without preamble, as usual. “Shea wants to leave for your place by yesterday, at the latest. She’s all packed and every five minutes she wants to know if I’ve bought the tickets yet.”
Slade chuckled, though he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, too. He loved Shea, no question about it, but he wasn’t set up to give her a proper home, not yet, at least.
“You’re putting her on a plane, then?”
“Yes,” Layne replied. “If you’re still up for this, that is. Believe me, Slade, if you want to back out, I’ll understand.”
“We’ll make it work somehow,” he said.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll come along with Shea. Just to help her settle in and everything.”
Layne would probably take one look at his bachelor’s quarters and hustle her daughter straight back to the airport in Missoula and onto the first outward-bound plane, no matter where it was headed.
“Okay,” Slade said. He had to talk to Kendra, pronto, he decided. Even if he bought the Kingman place that day, which he didn’t intend to do, the deal wouldn’t close for at least a month. Maybe he could make arrangements to rent the house until he’d made up his mind about accepting Hutch’s offer to buy out his share of Whisper Creek, though.
“Try to contain your enthusiasm,” Layne teased. “I’ll only be in Parable for a couple of days, and your virtue is safe, cowboy. I’m madly in love with another man.”
Slade waited for the pang of regret Layne’s statement should have caused him—he’d loved her, once—but it didn’t come. He did wish he could have responded that he was “madly in love” with some hot woman, though.
One like Joslyn Kirk, say. He felt a stirring that did not bode well for getting out of the truck anytime soon, at least, not in the middle of town, where there were so many people around.
“I’ll reserve you a room at the Best Western hotel,” he said. “When are you planning on getting here?”
“Day after tomorrow?” Layne said, making it sound like a question.
Slade suppressed a sigh. “Shall I pick you up at the airport in Missoula?”
“Definitely not,” Layne answered happily. “We’ll rent a car.”
“Fine,” Slade replied. “I’ll make the room reservation. Text me your ETA when you can.”
“Will do,” Layne said.
Slade was about to say goodbye and hang up when she murmured his name.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Thanks,” Layne answered. “I’ve been at my wits’ end over Shea.”
Slade wasn’t a glib man. He was intelligent, and he was educated, but folks said he was as stingy with words as a miser was with money, and he couldn’t refute that. “Everything will be all right,” he said.
The call ended, and he headed for Kendra’s place.
Once there, he parked alongside the mansion in the blindingly white driveway and spoke to Jasper.
“I won’t be long,” he said. “Mind your manners until I get back.”
Jasper merely sighed.
Inside the big house, Slade found Kendra’s office empty.
“Hello?” he called, just to be sure.
A woman’s voice answered, from a distance, though it wasn’t Kendra’s.
“In the kitchen!” someone sang out.
Joslyn Kirk?
Oh, hell, Slade thought. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might run into her, though he supposed it should have, since she lived on the property and she and Kendra were good friends. He cleared his throat, debating between sticking around and beating it.
Before he’d decided either way—he’d been leaning toward the first option because the second