few trees and the flat Sand-hills landscape did little to invite a traveler to linger longer than it took to get a tank of gas.
But then she turned off the commercial strip to drive slowly along Main Street, toward Courthouse Circle. This wasn’t the dead downtown scene she remembered from her high-school years. On each side of the newly bricked street, antique shops, coffee bars and cafés inhabited what had once been empty storefronts, or worse, bars and pickup joints. The old movie house had been renovated and was showing an art film she’d seen advertised recently in New York. Huge pots of pansies and daffodils punctuated the sidewalks underneath newly-leafing pear trees.
Mary Rose clicked her tongue in amazement. New Skye had certainly changed for the better in her absence.
She was glad to see that some things remained the same, like the Victorian elegance of the county courthouse, standing tall on its island of bright green grass. Traffic circled around the red brick, white-columned building, one of the oldest in town—the fire of 1876 had destroyed all of the business district except the Presbyterian and Methodist churches, the courthouse and the Velvet Rose Tavern. Thankfully, the Velvet Rose had succumbed to its own fire only a couple of decades later. The downtown branch of the public library—still functioning, still imposing with its white marble—had been built in its place.
On the far side of Courthouse Circle, Main Street followed a single hill rising up out of the flat terrain. On top were some of New Skye’s finest residences, built mostly in the early 1900s, though a few dated back to before “The War.” Mary Rose doubted that the folks in Charleston, where an old building might claim construction in 1725, would be terribly impressed with New Skye’s “historic district.” Looking at the area with a fresh perspective, though, she thought the wide porches, fancy columns and wrought-iron fences were charming.
Kate’s home was one of the largest and grandest on The Hill. A semicircular porch graced the front of the three-story white house; the magnolias flanking either side of the brick walk must have been fifty feet tall and a hundred years old. Thankful to be done with driving, Mary Rose parked at the curb and got out, stretching her arms above her head.
As she started across the grass, the front door opened and her sister stepped onto the porch, looking for all the world like a Southern belle from the distant past. A cloud of soft dark curls framed her oval face and graceful neck. She was tall and slender…alarmingly so.
“Have you forgotten how to fry chicken and cook gravy?” Mary Rose took hold of her sister with a tight hug. “You’re skinny as a rail.”
Kate pulled back to laugh at her. “Says the woman who weighs all of a hundred pounds.”
“One thirty-five, as a matter of fact. I’ve developed a passion for frappuccino with my morning bagel.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got a café here on The Hill that makes them perfectly. Come into the house.” They stepped out of warm spring sunlight into the cool, gleaming perfection of Kate’s home.
“This is beautiful.” Mary Rose surveyed the parlor’s rich combination of purple and gold fabric with mahogany antiques. “You do know how to dress a room.”
Kate waved her into a chair on one side of the fireplace. “How was your drive? You must have left early to be here so soon.”
“I drive fast,” Mary Rose said, and then frowned as she remembered.
“What’s wrong?”
“I, um, got stopped by a state trooper just a little ways south of town.”
“Did he give you a ticket?” Mary Rose nodded soberly, but her sister just smiled. “Don’t worry, honey. The D.A.’s wife is a member of my Sunday-school class at church. I’ll get her to talk to him about dismissing the fine.”
“That’s not the worst part.” She took a deep breath. “The trooper was Pete Mitchell.”
Kate gave her a blank stare. “Mitchell? Who…? Oh.” She pressed her fingertips against her lips. “That Pete Mitchell? Did he remember you?”
“He definitely remembered.” And the distance in those cool gray eyes had warned her that the memory wasn’t a pleasant one. “It’s kind of hard to forget being married, even for only a month.”
Kate shook her head. “I haven’t seen him in years. I guess I thought he’d moved away.” She faced the mantel and made unnecessary adjustments to the perfect placement of the Wedgwood teacups arranged there. “Do you suppose you’ll run into him again? I’d hate to have you uncomfortable while you’re here, worrying about meeting up with your ex-husband. That’s so…difficult.” The last word trembled with despair.
Mary Rose came up behind her sister, putting her arms around the thin shoulders. “I’m not worried about it one way or the other. It’s not like I’ve been moping over him for ten years.”
Kate’s head rested heavily on her shoulder. “And then there’s your job. I can’t believe you just up and left, during tax season, no less. Are you sure they’ll let you go back? What about all your clients?”
“All my clients got their taxes filed before the first of April because I pushed and prodded and nagged them to. I filed mine in February. And if the bank doesn’t want me back…well, too bad. I’ve accrued enough leave that I’d have to be here a couple of months before they could legitimately fire me. And they won’t. I make them too much money. So stop worrying about that.” She turned Kate around to face her. “What I’m worried about is you. You look so tired.”
Kate’s smile failed to dispel her very real air of exhaustion. “There’s a lot of yard work to be done, now that it’s spring. Plus the auction at the children’s school, which we just finished up, and the Azalea Festival, not to mention all the usual driving to lessons and practices and such. I’ve been…busy.”
She obviously didn’t want to go into any more detail right this minute, or explain why her husband, even after moving out of the house, couldn’t assume some responsibility for his children.
Mary Rose tapped the pads of her fingers gently on her sister’s pale cheeks. “That’s why I’m here, to take over some of the routine stuff. I can handle the driving, and help you with the garden, and do some cooking, too, though you might be sorry you let me in the kitchen. Just tell me what’s on the list.”
“Well…” Kate bit her lip, hesitating.
“Seriously. What can I do for you right this minute?”
With a sigh, her sister gave in. “If you brought Kelsey and Trace home from the soccer game at school, I could get the laundry caught up. Mama and Daddy are coming for dinner for your first night here and I need to put the roast in—”
“Consider it done. Just give me your keys. I can’t fit two other people in the Porsche.” Jingling Kate’s key chain, Mary Rose headed for the front door. “New Skye High, right? They haven’t moved it or anything?”
“You could drive there blindfolded,” Kate called across the front lawn. “Nothing has changed out that way in the last twenty years!”
“MY TURN.” Kelsey held out her hand for the soda can. Beside her, Lisa took a quick slurp before passing the drink.
“No fair! I bought it, didn’t I? You didn’t even leave me half.”
