just can’t seem to let go, even when their kids are grown up. I’m that way myself.”
Hannah stared at Ruby in surprise. She’d assumed Ruby was about her age, but if she had a grown child, she had to be older. “I can’t believe you have a child that old!”
“She’s not really my child. She’s my half-sister, but I raised her when our mother died.”
“How old were you?” Hannah couldn’t help asking.
“Almost eleven.”
Hannah gave a little sigh. When she was eleven, she’d done something similar. Michelle had been a cranky baby and she’d helped to take care of her when Delores had needed a break. But that had been only for an hour or so, a couple of times a week. Hannah couldn’t even imagine shouldering the sole responsibility of motherhood at that age. “How old was your sister?”
“Two and a half. It wasn’t easy, but all the rodeo wives helped. The ones who had kids used to invite Brianna over to play so that I could get some of the housework done. And they were always inviting us over for meals. There was one barrel rider, Missy Daniels, who used to bring us tuna casserole.”
“That was nice.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was the worst tuna casserole I ever tasted. My stepfather, Sam, said we had to be polite and tell her we liked it, so we did. But that backfired.”
“She brought you even more of it?” Hannah guessed.
“That’s right. We had it every Friday night. I still can’t stand the sight of a can of tuna. Anyway, between the wives and the single gals who wanted to pick up on Sam, we got along all right. Of course when we wrapped up the season, it was a lot easier.”
“Why?” Hannah asked, curious about what it would be like to travel with a rodeo.
“We wintered in Florida with Sam’s parents. Bri and I lived with them in Fort Lauderdale. Gram took care of Bri so I could go to school, and Sam spent the winter booking skeleton shows.” Hannah must have looked as confused as she felt, because Ruby hurried to explain. “It’s a pared down show, just the bones. That’s why we call it a skeleton show. It’s really more of a demonstration, and you can put it on in a park, or even a vacant lot.”
“So your stepdad was the booking agent for the show?”
“That and everything else. Sam owns the Great Northwestern Rodeo and Carnival. He finally gave up Brahma riding last year after he broke his arm twice, but he still keeps his hand in by doing some trick riding. See that Winnebago parked at the edge of the trees?”
Hannah looked in the direction Ruby was pointing. There was a large Winnebago parked behind the midway, just to the left of the Ferris wheel. “I see it.”
“That’s where I grew up. Of course I don’t live there now. Riggs and I have our own trailer. But Sam still lives there with Brianna. She just got engaged to one of the cowboys. He’s a Brahma rider and his name’s Tucker Smith.”
“It must be a very different sort of life,” Hannah mused, wondering how it would feel to travel with a rodeo.
“Oh, it is. We don’t stay anywhere for more than a week, and that means we have to be really self-sufficient.” Ruby stopped talking and gazed over Hannah’s shoulder. “So how about that deep-fried Milky Way? Your mother’s nowhere in sight.”
Hannah laughed. She didn’t know how she could possibly manage it after all the sweet dough breads they’d tasted, but the thought of getting to taste one at last made her mouth start to water. “Well…I really shouldn’t but I guess…” Hannah stopped in midsentence when a voice called her name. She turned to see Norman hurrying across the food court toward her, and she gave a little sigh. She was glad to see him. It wasn’t that. But this was the second time she’d been thwarted in her attempt to taste a deep-fried candy bar.
“You can’t eat one right now?” Ruby guessed.
“You got it,” Hannah said, and then she turned to give Norman a smile as he arrived at her side. It had been several days since she’d seen him, and it felt good to be with him again.
“Are you going to eat one of those?” he asked, as he arrived at her side.
“No,” Hannah replied. Norman didn’t sound censorious, the way her mother had, but it would be wise to play it safe.
“I need your help, Hannah.” Norman took the pan from her arms and steered her away from the booth, barely giving Hannah time to wave goodbye to Ruby. “I’ve got a problem with my dishwasher.”
Hannah was confused. “‘I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t know anything about fixing dishwashers.”
“I know you don’t. And I wasn’t asking you to. All I want you to do is help me pick it out. The brochures for the kitchen appliances came today, and I can’t make up my mind between two models.”
“No problem. I’ll be glad to help you.”
“Thanks, Hannah. I was afraid I’d pick the wrong one.” Norman looked down at the pan he was carrying. “I heard you were filling in for Edna. Is this tonight’s winner?”
“No, it’s part of the third-place entry, a chocolate cherry coffeecake. I’m taking it to Mother.”
“Now?” Norman asked, looking disappointed.
“Now. I’m going to deliver the coffeecake, congratulate Michelle on her win in the evening gown competition, and then I’m going straight home. I think Moishe might be getting sick.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably the heat, but I’m a little worried. He didn’t touch his breakfast.”
“How about dinner?”
“Only a sniff and a lick. And I made him a Denver sandwich without the onions and the bell peppers. I even put in double ham and he still wouldn’t touch it.”
“That sounds serious. How about if I stop at my house to pick up the brochures, and head over to your condo to check on Moishe? Maybe I can get him to eat. When you get home, you can take a quick look and tell me which model is the best.”
Hannah didn’t have to think twice about that. “Great,” she said, giving Norman a grateful smile. He always came through when she needed him. And that was one of the things she loved most about him.
“Hi, Hannah!” Michelle greeted her oldest sister at the door. Her face was devoid of makeup, and she was wearing cut-off jeans and a Macalester College T-shirt. “What have you got?”
“Chocolate cherry coffeecake. Where’s Mother?”
“In Dad’s old office. She’s using it now. She said she had some work to do on her computer.”
“What work?”
“I don’t know. I asked, but she said it was personal.”
Hannah frowned as visions of e-mail romances with prison inmates danced through
