href="#ulink_9e8add56-c6a5-508a-ad3b-791cffc2606c">Chapter Five
The Crawford home on the Shooting Star property was beautiful, a two-story white clapboard on a double lot. As it was early October, the grass in the yard surrounding the house with its wraparound porch had already gone dormant. Someone, likely Brad’s mother, Laura, had put up an autumn display that included stalks of corn, colorful gourds and a huge pumpkin.
Though Margot couldn’t recall ever being inside the house, she remembered attending several outdoor barbecues when she was young.
Margot had always been envious of the Crawford family with their six kids. Brad’s youngest sister Natalie was three years older than Margot, so they’d run in different social circles. But she knew Natalie and liked her quite a bit.
“Will Natalie be here?” Margot asked as Brad pulled the truck to a stop behind a car she figured must belong to one of his parents.
“It’s Friday night,” Brad said as if that answered her question.
“Thanks for orienting me to the day of the week.” Margot shoved open the door to the truck, even as he was still rounding the front. “But that wasn’t my question.”
Brad shot her an easy smile. “She’s young, single and it’s Friday night. You connect the dots.”
“Well, I’m young and single and I’m having dinner with your folks. What does that say about me?”
He grinned. “That you’re holding on to the false belief that you can get me out of the house by luring my parents over to your side.”
“Oh, look,” Margot said, grateful for the distraction, for any distraction. “Your mother came out to greet us.”
“Great,” Brad muttered. When he’d asked if he could bring Margot, he’d made sure to clarify to his mother that Margot had just gotten into town. He hoped his parents would convince her that running a ranch was too much for a woman recovering from a head injury.
Sometime during the course of the evening, he would pull his matchmaking mother aside and make it clear he wasn’t interested in Margot Sullivan, other than as a casual bed-partner. Even though, to his way of thinking, that fact never belonged in any mother-son discussion.
“Margot.” Laura Crawford moved forward holding out both of her hands in welcome. “I’m so glad you could join us.”
Seeing Margot warm to her instantly, Brad had to admit his mother had a way. Laura was a pretty middle-aged woman with blond hair cut in a stylish bob, blue eyes and a friendly smile.
But Brad knew from personal experience the woman could be tough if the situation warranted it. You didn’t raise four boys and two daughters without a spine. The eyes in the back of her head helped immensely. Of her six children, only Natalie resembled her, both in coloring and in stature.
Tonight his mom wore khakis and a blue checked shirt. Though in her late fifties, she looked much too young to have grown children. When his dad had snagged her, he’d gotten himself a gem. Nearly forty years later, they were still happy together.
That lifelong love, devotion and trust had been what Brad had hoped to have in his marriage with Janie.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked as he followed his mother and Margot up the steps to the porch.
“Inside changing. He wanted to wear jeans and that old flannel shirt.” Laura smiled at her son. “I said that while that may be good enough for dinner with you, it’s not appropriate when we have guests.”
“Oh, Mrs. Crawford, jeans and a flannel shirt would have been fine.”
“Please call me Laura.” His mother patted Margot’s arm. “Believe me, it doesn’t hurt any of us to go outside our comfort zone every now and then.”
They’d barely stepped inside the front door when Todd Crawford came clomping down the stairs in navy pants and a sweater, grumbling with each step.
The disgruntled look on his face was replaced with a smile when he caught sight of Margot.
“Well, this is a pleasure,” Todd said. “It’s been years since you paid us a visit.”
“Hello, Mr. Crawford.”
Todd gave a laugh. “It’s Todd, honey. When I hear Mr. Crawford I always think of my granddad.”
Too bad, Brad thought, they didn’t have any bees hovering around. The honey couldn’t melt in his parents’ mouth. It bordered on sickening. But he wouldn’t complain.
He thought of how differently his parents—his mother especially—had reacted when his sister Nina had begun associating with Dallas Traub and his kids. Thankfully, now that Nina and Dallas were married, both of his parents had come around.
“What’s for dinner?” Brad asked. “I’m starving.”
“We’re having pot roast,” his mother said easily, but he caught her warning glance. “I thought it’d be nice if we had a glass of wine in the living room before we ate.”
Because he’d been warned and because, small though she might be, his mother was definitely a force to be reckoned with, Brad didn’t say he preferred beer to wine. And his hunger would be put on hold, until his mother deemed it time to eat.
He almost wished Natalie was here to run interference. But then he realized that would be playing with fire. Nat was likely to side with Margot and then his mother would join them, leaving him and his father outnumbered. At least this way, if it came to choosing sides and they went by gender, it would be a draw.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Laura asked Margot, already lifting a bottle they’d had breathing on a side table.
“Absolutely.” Margot took a seat in a chintz-covered chair, leaving Brad no choice but to sit on the sofa beside his father, who didn’t smell nearly as good as Margot.
“Margot has a blue heeler,” Brad said to no one in particular, once they all had their wine.
“Really?” His dad actually looked interested. “Now, that’s a dog. Not like—”
“Watch it, Todd,” Laura warned.
Margot took a sip of her wine, watching the interaction with undisguised interest.
“We’re babysitting my friend Lucille’s dog. Lucy lives in Missoula and she’s very ill,” Laura explained. “We promised to keep the dog—”
“You promised to keep her,” Todd said pointedly.
The remark earned his father a scowl. Brad wanted to empathize but he kept his expression impassive. He’d quickly learned no one, but no one, dissed the Maltese.
“Brandie Sue,” Laura called out in that sugary sweet voice usually reserved for young children and the elderly...and white balls of fluff.
Seconds later, tiny toenails could be heard clicking across the hardwood. A small dog that couldn’t weigh more than five pounds trotted in. Her pristine white hair was long and flowing and a pink ribbon
