Emma refused to cooperate. She hadn’t excelled in law school only to give it all up. Her determined pursuit of a career with a top-notch, demanding Denver law firm had turned from an annoyance into a full-fledged bone of contention in their marriage.
As her star at the firm had risen, the arguments had increased in intensity. His manipulative efforts to sabotage her career had escalated. When nothing—not even the worst kind of betrayal, so painful that even now she couldn’t bear to think about it—had worked, he’d walked out, threatening to sue for custody of Caitlyn. The clash in court, complete with the city’s best legal talent on opposing sides, had promised to be the stuff of headlines. Emma had actually begun to relish the challenge.
That should have been a wake-up call about her driven lifestyle and her misplaced priorities, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Kit had met someone else almost immediately after their separation and had backed off on his threats. Emma had won without going to court and without having to change. In the end it had been a hollow victory. Now Kit saw even less of Caitlyn than Emma did. Her daughter was resigned to that, too.
In fact, Caitlyn had been forced to accept too darned much, Emma concluded as she angrily tossed the yogurt container into the trash and shut the refrigerator door. There had been too many canceled plans and broken promises.
After switching on the overhead light, she reached for the invitation that had come in that day’s mail. Her high school reunion was coming up in a few weeks in Winding River, Wyoming. Caitlyn’s private school would be out by then. It would be a chance for Emma to spend some quality time with her daughter, a chance for Caitlyn to see her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins—extended family she needed more than ever now that her father was pretty much out of their lives. Caitlyn deserved this trip. They both did. Visits to Wyoming had been too rare thanks to Emma’s demanding schedule. It had been two years. The time had just slipped by.
Emma picked up her datebook and thumbed through the pages. Appointments and court appearances jammed every page. She took out a pen—not a pencil that could be erased when second thoughts set in—and circled the weekend of the reunion. She made a note by tomorrow’s date to have her secretary cancel everything for that Wednesday through Sunday. Even though the Fourth of July holiday was only a few days later, she couldn’t quite bring herself to take an entire week off. Well, five days was better than nothing…and considerably more than the occasional day she snatched for herself.
Five whole days away from her job, away from Denver. The thought boggled her mind. Best of all, she would get to see her dearest friends, the indomitable Calamity Janes—so named for their penchant for trouble and heartache—who could make her laugh and remind her of who she’d been before work had become an obsession. It would be good to get some perspective—some balance—back into her life. If anyone could help her accomplish that, Lauren, Karen, Cassie and Gina could.
It was ironic, really, that five women could be so different and yet have so much in common. Lauren was now a Hollywood superstar, Karen a rancher. Cassie was a struggling single mom, Gina a gourmet chef with her own restaurant in New York. Yet they shared a history, a friendship that had weathered time and separation. The last time they had all been together had been at Emma’s law school graduation. Since then, they’d stayed in touch through occasional phone calls, e-mails and hastily jotted notes on Christmas cards.
But even if the contact had been sporadic, the depth of the bond had never suffered, Emma reflected. These women were her best friends and, though she sometimes neglected them, she treasured the friendships. Lauren, twice-divorced herself, had listened endlessly when Emma had gone through her divorce. Cassie had provided a shoulder to lean on as Emma had struggled with the guilt of not having enough time for Caitlyn. Happily married Karen had been steady as a rock, offering nonjudgmental advice whenever Emma had sought it. And ever since the divorce, Gina had sent periodic care packages of gourmet baked goods to cheer both Emma and Caitlyn.
But even as anticipation of seeing them began to stir inside her, Emma sighed as she thought of the work that would be waiting for her on the following Monday. For once, though, she couldn’t let that matter. The truth was that the work could wait. She was not indispensable. She had more money than she had time to spend it. So did the partners at her firm. A few less billable hours would hardly ruin her fast-track career.
Who knew when a chance like this would come along again? The prospect of seeing the Calamity Janes was too good to pass up. The usual dread of listening to her mother grumble that she hadn’t been eating right actually brought a smile to Emma’s lips for once. And knowing that her father would likely remind her that she was brilliant and beautiful and worth loving…well, that was something she’d been needing to hear ever since her divorce. Even though the breakup had been for the best, even though Kit had proved himself to be a world-class jerk, the divorce had been a blow to Emma’s self-esteem. A high achiever from grade school on, she’d never expected to fail at anything.
Pleased with her resolve to take a much-needed break, she could hardly wait to tell Caitlyn. She could already imagine the rare, shy smile that would light up her daughter’s face. Unfortunately, she could also envision the child’s hesitancy, her reluctance to believe that the trip would actually happen.
“I won’t let you down, baby,” she vowed as she flipped off the light and headed for her home office, where she had another hour’s worth of paperwork to get through before bedtime. “Not this time.”
This trip was going to be all about relaxation, laughter, family and friends. Nothing was going to interfere with that, nothing at all.
Chapter 1
Ford Hamilton stared at the computer screen on which the front page of the weekly Winding River News was laid out. There was a big gap where his lead story should be. Because it was the paper’s first edition since he’d taken over ownership, he’d wanted something splashy to fill that space, something to make the locals sit up and take notice.
“So, boss, want me to go out and interview the people planning their class reunion about who’s coming and what will be happening?” Teddy Taylor asked. Teddy was eighteen and intended to major in photojournalism. He was enthusiastically interning with Ford for the summer and itching for a page-one photo or byline. On a paper just starting out on Ford’s shoestring budget he was doing everything. Even an intern’s inexpert help was welcome.
Ford sighed. A class reunion was not the sort of local news he envisioned for his front page. He’d been trained in hard news in big cities, where the stories competing for page-one headlines were about politics and corruption and crime. There wasn’t much of any of those things in Winding River, Wyoming. It was a sleepy, quiet town where very little happened—which, he reminded himself, was precisely the reason he’d chosen it. He was tired of chasing bad guys all the time, to say nothing of arguing with editors about how a story should be played in the paper. Now he was in charge, and maybe, just maybe, he could put out a paper that would actually make a difference in the community.
Unfortunately, the very things that had drawn him here—the peace and quiet—were thwarting his plans to make a big impression with this first edition. He was just waking up to the true meaning of the term “slow news day.” He had a feeling that he’d just gone through what was destined to be a slow news week, if not a slow news year.
Still, that did not mean he had to resort to filling prime front-page space with puff pieces about a class reunion, even if it was all anyone could talk about around town. He’d list the scheduled events the week before the event, then send a photographer when the time came. A picture spread inside was enough coverage for a non-news event.
That still left an empty hole on page one for this week’s edition, and time was rapidly running
