why she keeps remembering all those things,” she whispered. “She’s asked at least a hundred times.”
“Well, now that you know, we’ll see if you tell her anything different,” she responded, and with a bitter laugh that said she didn’t think Presley would, she fell back on the pillows.
* * *
Presley was gone when Cheyenne returned home from work, which surprised her. With Anita in such bad shape, Presley usually waited for Chey to arrive so that someone would be with Anita at all times.
Cheyenne would’ve asked her mother why her sister had left early, but Anita seemed to be in a drugged stupor. As Chey stood at her bedroom door, looking in, she realized that what she’d told Eve wasn’t true. No way could Anita make it until after the cruise. The cancer had progressed too far. She’d already been reduced to a bag of bones beneath waxy skin. She’d grown so small and feeble compared to the woman Cheyenne used to fear, it was a wonder she was still breathing.
Maybe that was why Presley had gone. Watching Anita die a little more each day wasn’t easy.
Grateful that her mother was sleeping so she could have dinner and unwind, she headed into the kitchen, where she’d left her purse when she came in. She could smell the pine of the Christmas tree and the cinnamon candles she liked to burn, but those scents hardly cloaked the stale, antiseptic stench of her mother’s sickness.
Briefly closing her eyes, Cheyenne drew a deep breath, trying to block out anything unpleasant, and went to the refrigerator. She’d made some beef stew before bed last night, to get a jump on the day.
Presley didn’t seem to have eaten any, which worried Cheyenne. Her sister was getting far too thin....
Reminding herself not to dwell on the negative, she spent the time waiting for her stew to heat looking through pictures on the iPhone the Harmons had given her for her birthday in May. She had snapshots of her friends—Riley, Gail, Simon, Callie, Ted, Noah, Baxter, Kyle, Sophia and several others who joined them, although less frequently, on Friday mornings at Black Gold Coffee. They were all going on the cruise, except Gail and Simon, of course, who were in Hollywood, Sophia, who had a daughter as well as a husband, and Riley, who was raising a son and planned to spend the holidays remodeling the B and B. Cheyenne was disappointed to be missing the big trip. The Caribbean sounded like a marvelous place to go. But taking a cruise wasn’t something she’d ever expected to be able to do, anyway.
With a faint smile for the fun Eve and the rest of her friends would have, she thumbed farther back in her album to find the picture she’d been looking for.
There it was—Joe, with his arm around his sister. Cheyenne had taken that photograph at a barbecue last summer. Sometimes he came to the events Gail attended when she was home, but Gail wasn’t home all that often. She’d been living in L.A. for more than a decade, ever since she started Big Hit Public Relations. And now that she was married to Simon, she’d likely return even less.
The stew bubbled on the stove, but Cheyenne didn’t remove it. She was too taken with Joe’s image, although she’d seen this picture a million times. He looked good in his swim trunks, his broad chest and muscular arms bronzed from the sun, his wet hair tossed back off his face. Her heart beat faster as she stared at the contours of his strong jaw, the laugh lines bracketing his mouth and the intelligence shining through his blue eyes. In the past year or so, his hair had begun to recede a little at the temples, but Cheyenne didn’t mind. She’d never seen anyone she thought was more handsome.
“Presley?”
Her mother was awake and calling for her sister. Cheyenne set her phone aside and turned off the burner. “Presley’s gone to work,” she called back. “I’m in the middle of making dinner. I’ll bring you a bowl of stew in a minute.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She was never hungry anymore. But she had to eat or she’d lose what little strength she still had. “You should try to get a few bites down.”
“Did Presley say anything to you when she left?” Anita wanted to know.
Because it was difficult for her mother to make herself heard, Cheyenne hurried to her bedroom to answer. “About what?”
Anita studied her before relaxing. “Nothing.”
Cheyenne considered asking why Presley had left early but guessed, from her mother’s questions, that she wouldn’t know. What did it matter? Nothing had happened. “So…will you try to eat?”
“If you want,” she relented, a shrug in her voice.
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
Her cell phone, which she’d put on the counter, rang while she was on her way to the kitchen. Glancing at the display, she could see it was Eve and wasn’t surprised. She’d left The Gold Nugget only an hour ago, but Eve called her more than anyone else.
“You’d better not have canceled your cruise,” Cheyenne said as soon as she picked up.
“No, although I should,” Eve responded with a note of chagrin.
“There’s no point. You can’t stop what’s going to happen.”
“But I could help you through it.”
“You’ve already done everything you can. What’s up?”
Eve’s voice filled with breathless excitement. “I did it.”
Cheyenne had opened the cupboard and was reaching for two bowls, but she dropped her hand. What was Eve talking about? “Did what?”
“I asked him out!”
Cheyenne froze. “You mean Joe?”
“Who else, silly? I just…worked up the nerve, called him at the station and said, ‘I’d really like to get to know you better. Is there any chance you’d be interested in having dinner with me tomorrow?’”
Gripping the edge of the counter, Chey managed a strangled “And what did he say?”
“Yes!” It sounded as if she was jumping up and down. “He was so nice about it. He didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.”
Of course not. Joe was good at making other people feel accepted, regardless of the situation. He’d looked after Cheyenne as a sort of unofficial big brother ever since she’d moved to town, hadn’t he? Not once had he treated her as if she was insignificant, like so many of the other popular guys had at first. Although Cheyenne was eventually accepted by the “in” crowd, she felt that Eve had so much more to offer. She came from a highly regarded family. She was beautiful in the classic sense with a slender figure, dramatic widow’s peak and shiny dark hair. And she was such a nice person. Chey couldn’t imagine anyone not loving Eve.
“That—” Chey had to clear her throat “—that’s so exciting. Where will you take him?”
“I think we’ll drive to Jackson and have dinner at the Old Milano Hotel.”
“The one famous for its prime rib?”
“That’s it.”
Slumping
