she confessed. “I don’t want to embarrass her, crying on her keyboard.”
Scarlett draped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry this happened now. Not saying there’s a better time for...” She broke off and shook her head. “You just moved here, is all I mean. To lose Lynnie now, when you’re back, it’s not fair.”
Tandy nodded. Lynnie had played a huge part in her decision to move to Fort Kyle. She swallowed.
“Lynnie would be glad you were back, Tandy,” Renata said. “And glad we set the place to rights.”
Tandy nodded, her gaze sweeping the parlor and the small group of white-haired ladies chatting away. Lynnie didn’t have family to come and tidy up her place. Other than some second cousin in the city—which city had never been specified—Lynnie didn’t have much.
Except for Click.
Tandy swallowed the razor-sharp lump in her throat, painful all the way down. Her attention wandered, but there was still no sign of Lynnie’s great-nephew. He’d be hurting, too. Lynnie was his rock, the only family that treated him like he was more than a nuisance and mistake.
“How old were we?” Renata asked, studying the wall of pictures she’d dusted earlier.
She glanced at the photo of them. “Young.” That girl hadn’t imagined her future like this. That girl had believed in the promise of a future full of everything she’d never had.
“You okay?” Renata asked, nudging her.
“We don’t have to be here.” Scarlett took her hand.
“Of course we do,” Tandy argued. “We all loved Lynnie. He might not even be here—”
“He’s not,” Scarlett said. “Not yet. Dad’s been on the lookout for him.”
Tandy looked at her. “Why? If I remember correctly, Uncle Woodrow was never very fond of Click.”
Renata snorted. “Understatement of the year.”
“But, now that Lynnie’s gone, what will happen to her property?” Scarlett asked.
Tandy frowned. “The land?” She sighed. “Lynnie’s been gone, what, three days? Uncle Woodrow’s already worrying over her land?” Of course he was. That was the way he worked.
Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “If Mr. Wallace bought this place, Dad would have a heart attack.”
Knowing her uncle Woodrow, that was probably true. Woodrow Boone, Scarlett’s father, was...prickly. He excelled at voicing his opinion loudly and being contrary. Still, Tandy respected her uncle. What he lacked in charm he made up for with determination. If he was determined to keep Lynnie’s place from falling into Vic Wallace’s possession, nothing would get in his way.
Apparently, that was something that hadn’t changed in Fort Kyle: Woodrow Boone v. Vic Wallace feud. The patriarchs of the two largest West Texas ranching families kept things civil in public—barely. The two men disagreed on everything. From cattle—Wallace’s Angus versus Uncle Woodrow’s Hereford—to fences—Wallace’s stone versus Boone’s traditional wood and wire—if they could find a way to disagree, they did.
Tandy had always thought Lynnie’s place the prettiest in the region. The natural spring that bubbled up cold and clean was a huge bonus in the dry, arid landscape. But there was more to it than access to water. Lynnie’s property was wedged between the Boones’ and Wallaces’—a hot and arid Texas Switzerland between two warring families. And since Lynnie had outlived three husbands with no children to pass the land on to—
“Click will inherit,” Tandy whispered, that realization making the tight grip on her control slip.
“Poor Click,” Renata whispered.
“That’s what Dad’s waiting on.” Scarlett shrugged.
Tandy leaned against the piano. Would he sell or stay? This place had been special to them all once, but now...
Renata glanced at Tandy with unfiltered sympathy. “I guess Click selling is what we want? I’d think having him around would be challenging.”
Renata’s words cut her deep. “I want him to be happy.” That hadn’t changed. But, yes, having him around would be challenging. Especially since she’d planned on making Fort Kyle home for a while.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Scarlett asked. “If he shows up, I mean?”
Tandy forced a smile. “I’m fine. Completely and totally.” Which was a complete and total lie. Neither of them knew the extent of the damage between her and Click, and she intended to keep it that way. No point dragging that nightmare out into the open for everyone to suffer through.
“As long as you’re sure.” But Scarlett didn’t look convinced.
“We’re here for Lynnie.” Tandy looked at them both, hoping her voice didn’t give away just how hard it was to say his name. “Click is your friend. I don’t want that to change because of me. He’ll need friends right now, so you should be there for him.” She meant it.
She saw the doubtful look Scarlett and Renata exchanged.
“Tandy, Lynnie loved my pineapple upside-down cake,” Miss Francis, Lynnie’s dearest friend, said. “Had to bring some. You mind cutting some old ladies a piece?”
Tandy smiled, leading Miss Francis into the kitchen. “Not at all. Not that I see any old ladies around.”
“Don’t know what we’ll do without her. She knew how to keep things organized—and the menfolk in line.” The woman sniffed, pressing a hankie to her nose.
“She had plenty of practice with that,” a deep voice said from the doorway. “Keeping the menfolk in line.”
Tandy didn’t have to look to know who was talking. She knew. Her reaction to him was the same. Her heart kicked into overdrive, and every inch of her seemed to tighten. Until the cold set in, soaking up everything until she was numb. It was easier that way.
“As I live and breathe, Click, look at you,” the woman gushed. “Does an old heart like mine good to see you here today.”
“Good to see you, too, Miss Francis.”
Tandy sliced into the pineapple upside-down cake, putting pieces on the flowered dessert plates she’d pulled from Lynnie’s china cabinet. Her hands were shaking, but there was nothing she could do about it. If she looked at him, it would be worse. So much worse. She wiped her palms on a kitchen towel and put the plates on a serving tray.
Any minute now he’d say something to her and she’d have to acknowledge him. She’d have to look at him, smile and act like seeing him didn’t drag her straight back into the hell she’d been living in for the last two years. The hell she’d only just managed to bottle up and bury deep inside.
The silence in the kitchen grew thick and heavy, pressing in until she almost bolted from the kitchen. No more running. She swallowed, picked up the tray of cake slices and headed for the door.
“Click,”
