Matthew. The party’s this afternoon. They’ll be home for lunch, and then Dad will run him back to town for the party. I’d take him myself, but I have a guest checking into the B & B this afternoon, and I need to be here when she arrives.”
“Where’s she coming from?” CJ asked.
“Chicago.”
“Will she want a trail ride? Maybe a riding lesson or two?”
“I don’t know. She booked online and didn’t request it, but I’ll be sure to ask when she checks in.”
While her sisters discussed the anticipated guest and what her needs might be, Emily’s thoughts drifted, as they often did when the three of them were together in the kitchen, in search of one of her few and fleeting memories of their mother. Few because Emily had barely been four years old the last time they’d seen Scarlett Finnegan, and fleeting because that’s what twenty-five-year-old memories tended to be.
What came to mind was an image of her four-year-old self sitting on the lap of a gaunt-looking woman with dark, soulful eyes and long chestnut hair the same color as Emily’s. Her sisters were blue-eyed blondes like their father, but she had taken after their mother. As always, the memory was tinged bittersweet. Was it real? Or was she simply conjuring the moment that had been captured in the framed photograph on her dresser? She would never be sure. The picture had been taken in this kitchen on Emily’s fourth birthday, only a few weeks before her mother had gone away.
The kitchen island hadn’t existed in those days. She and her mother had been sitting at the long butcher-block table that had filled the middle of this room for three generations. After Annie married her husband, Eric, and he had moved in, she’d converted the family farmhouse into a bed-and-breakfast. Now recently widowed, and in spite of the family’s insistence she take a break, Annie had decided to carry on with the business. She needed to earn a living, and she also didn’t want to disappoint her clientele. They were devoted, and had increased her business by posting amazing online reviews and telling family and friends about her B & B.
“Emily?” Annie’s question hauled her thoughts back to the present.
“Hm? Sorry. Daydreaming.”
“I said you look nice today,” Annie said. “Is that a new top you’re wearing?”
“Oh, yes, it is.”
“The color really suits you.”
“Thanks. I thought I’d try something other than my usual black and beige.” Truthfully, she’d chosen the deep marigold patterned top more for its style than its color. The soft gathers falling from the U-shaped yoke added some flare to the hemline and enough fullness to disguise the fact she was no longer as skinny as her jeans.
Annie studied her seriously but, in typical Annie fashion, kept her thoughts to herself.
Something CJ seldom did. “I told you something’s weird. You’re quieter than usual, avoiding caffeine, jazzing up your wardrobe. What’s up with you?”
Emily glared at her little sister. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” That’s what she desperately hoped for anyway.
“So, Em. What have you been working on these days?” Annie asked, switching subjects as though she had somehow gleaned what was up with Emily and was intentionally trying to distract CJ.
“Oh, this and that.” She sipped her coffee. “The mayor has called a special session of the town council on Monday afternoon—says he has some big announcement—so I’ll be covering that.”
“A big announcement? In Riverton?” CJ’s tone was tinged with derision. “Don’t tell me the mayor’s finally decided to fix that rusty old stop sign at Main and Second, the one old man Thompson ran into when his truck skidded on a patch of ice last winter.”
“I certainly hope not. They’ll have to raise our taxes if they do that.” Annie chuckled at her own joke. “I’m betting someone has an overdue library book.”
“No, I’ve got it,” CJ said. “Another garden gnome has gone missing.”
Emily laughed at their lame attempts at humor, knowing her sisters loved their hometown every bit as much as she did. “Come on, you two. Riverton’s not that sleepy. Besides, my sources tell me the mayor’s going to announce that Chief Fenwick is retiring from the Riverton Police Department at the end of the month, and he’s looking for a replacement.”
CJ wasn’t buying it. “Yes, Riverton is that sleepy. And excuse me, but...you have sources?”
“I do.”
“Let me guess. Becky Wilson?”
Becky, who ran the only beauty salon in town, was an avid participant in and a regular contributor to Riverton’s rumor mill.
“No, it wasn’t Becky,” Emily said. “She never gossips about anything interesting. Fred told me when we had lunch yesterday. Mayor Bartlett was in for a haircut that morning and happened to let something slip.”
Annie smoothed a hand over her short blond bob. “Maybe I should get Fred to cut my hair. Everyone jokes about the beauty parlor being a hub for gossip, but I never hear anything worthwhile at the Clip ’n’ Curl. Did the mayor say who he’s planning to appoint?”
“No.” Emily sighed. “Just that he’s casting a wide net.” She liked to think she’d make an ace investigative journalist but in fact spent far more time writing obituaries and reporting on town council meetings. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him and wheedle it out of him. I’ve been a little preoccupied.”
“With...?” Annie’s scrutiny once again had her on edge.
“Oh, you know. Work, writing my blog, stuff like that.” Emily slid off her stool and loaded her mug and plate into the dishwasher. CJ stood, too, and crossed the big kitchen to open the French doors and let Chester outside. The old retriever ambled across the plank porch and onto the sprawling back lawn.
Emily gave her older sister a hug. “Thanks. This has been great.”
“We do this every Saturday.”
“I know, but I really needed some sister time this morning. And a muffin.” She had eaten two.
“Want to tell me what has you so out of sorts?”
“Nothing,” she said, lowering her voice even though her nosy younger sister was out of earshot. “And I’m not ‘out of sorts.’ I’m fine.”
Annie held her by the shoulders and gave her a long look. “I know you, Em. And I know you’ll tell me in good time. Promise me you’ll call if you need to talk?”
She appreciated her big sister’s restraint. “I promise. You’re the best, you know that? Will you give Dad and Isaac my love? Tell them I’ll be around for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Of course.”
Emily heard her phone ringing from inside her bag, which she had left on the bench by the doors to the veranda.
“I’ll grab it for you.” CJ reached for Emily’s tan leather satchel.
