Jenny’s political incorrectness was intentional. It always was whenever her ancestry entered the conversation. Her father’s abandonment and mother’s bitterness toward an entire race had hung over Jenny like a large gray cloud in the shape of giant question mark. No. That wasn’t true. Only Savannah saw the cloud as a question mark. Jenny wouldn’t allow herself to question. To question was to bleed some more.
Jenny lifted a maroon and gold volume from the nightstand, finding the diversion she sought, and turned back with a devilish smile. “Hmm. What have we here? Class of ’85—”
“Oh, please. Don’t.” Savannah winced and prepared for the inevitable.
Jenny thumbed to the index in the back. “Let’s see...senior photo, page twenty-seven.” She fanned the pages backward, then stopped and covered her mouth with her hand. “So this is why you never showed me!”
“I know, I know. What a sight, huh?” Savannah crossed to Jenny’s side and grimaced at the image of her former self: braces, shoulder-length mousy brown hair, and at least an extra fifty pounds.
Jenny looked from the photo to Savannah then back to the page. “Too bad you don’t wear contacts so we could change those baby blues to green.” Looking up again, she said, “Still, just a little more work and he’ll never know it’s you.” She put the book down and swept Savannah’s hair back from her face with both hands. “Yep. Shorter and darker ought to do the trick.”
“Let’s do it now...before I lose my nerve.” They looked into each other’s eyes a moment, then burst into nervous laughter as they scurried for the bathroom, pushing and poking each other as they went, pretending to forget goodbyes were less than twenty-four hours away.
Savannah shed her sweater, settled atop the toilet seat and made a pocket with the towel Jenny pinned around her neck to catch the clippings.
“Should we do medium length first or go for broke?”
She looked up at Jenny’s blue-black hair. It was cropped short with jagged ends trailing slightly down her neck. Equally jagged bangs and sides all pointed to large, doelike brown eyes. If she could look half as good as her friend with this same style, she’d be happy.
“Just like yours.”
“You’re sure about this?” Jenny tested the shears with a couple of quick snips in midair.
“Just hurry up. Do it.” Savannah closed her eyes and held the towel out around her.
A half hour later, her butt numb from the hard plastic lid, and her arms aching from catching all the hair, she blew air at a stray lock that itched her nose. “When can I see?”
Jenny unpinned the towel and carefully removed it. “Hold your horses. I’m a long way from finished.” She slipped on disposable plastic gloves and went to work with the pointy-nosed bottle of dye. “We can pack during the twenty-five minutes this goop is on your head.”
She finished in a flurry, then removed the gloves and fanned her face. “Gadzooks! You look worse than that stuff smells.” She chuckled and grabbed her friend’s hand, tugging her back toward the bedroom. “Okay, let’s pack...and no peeking.” Savannah started to turn toward the mirror, but Jenny nudged her forward and shut the bathroom door behind them. “Now, about these clothes you’re taking—”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“They look like you.”
“I can’t afford a whole new wardrobe—”
“No, but you could take a few of my things.”
“They’re a size too small!”
“Exactly. What’s the last thing Ryder would expect the old Savannah to wear?”
She looked at her bulky sweaters and oversize flannel shirts flung on the bed. She liked clothes loose and comfortable. She never felt secure showing off her more-than-ample bust, which to her own eyes seemed disproportionate to the rest of her trimmer self. “You can’t possibly mean for me—”
“To wear tight tank tops or form-fitting blouses? Yep. Trust me. It’s just what you need.”
When Jenny left the room, no doubt to retrieve her sexier clothes, Savannah looked down at the open yearbook and turned to Ryder’s photo, her heart beating erratically once again.
Was disguising herself the right thing to do? True, she didn’t want him to know who she was till the time was right... if that day ever came. First, she wanted to study the man he’d become, to see if he was anything like the fantasy she’d lived with for so long. And she wanted him to get to know her again, too, without his feeling some sense of obligation to be kind to an old friend. Anything less than honest feelings would be a waste of time.
Honest. What a dichotomy. She hated being dishonest with Ryder, yet she saw no other way of learning the truth.
She focused on his photo again and remembered the other thing that worried her. National Locators had found where he lived and told her about the job opening at the ranch. They’d also said he wasn’t married. But what if he was involved with someone? After all of this, what would she do?
She closed the book with a resounding thud. She didn’t want to think about it. She had enough on her mind, least of which was the ridiculous job she’d be applying for once she found the ranch.
Jenny rushed back into the room, a smile from ear to ear and clothes draped across both extended arms.
Savannah laughed and accepted the offering. “Okay, I’ll take a few of your things. Maybe I’ll even use them.”
They continued emptying drawers and the closet, filling another suitcase with underwear, nightshirts and shoes, while Savannah continued fretting about the week ahead. “Jenny, do you really think I can pull off this cook job? I’ve never been anything but a secretary at Detroit Tire.”
“The one and same warehouse that laid you off with a couple of hundred others. Don’t you think that was another sign this was meant to be?”
That had seemed rather fortuitous. She never liked that job, anyway, and had recently sent out résumés. “Still, you’re the one who cooks for a living. I’m the one who nukes and does carryout.”
“You got about a dozen basic meals down pat, and there’s lots more in that cookbook I gave you. If you get in a jam, I’m only a phone call away.” She looked at her watch. “Time to hit the shower. Close your eyes.”
Savannah stripped with her back to the mirror while the water warmed. When she stepped inside, she lowered her head under the spray and watched dark brown water swirl around the drain at her feet. Another ball of anxiety gripped her stomach. Of all the hare-brained ideas she’d had over the years, this one had to take the cake. She lathered quickly and rinsed. A new persona, a new part of the country she’d never seen, and a job she knew little about. With a groan, she shut off the water and stepped out.
Jenny stood waiting—blow dryer in one hand, brush in the other, and the ever-present look of caring in those big brown eyes. God, how she’d miss this woman. Tears blurred her vision, and she blotted them away as she dried herself and tied the bath sheet into a large knot at one side.
“All right,”
