A tall, willowy-looking woman in her midfifties, wearing a dress and heels, her soft brown hair curled under, arrived not long after the flowers. Identifying herself as Sarah Carrier from Aunt Phoebe’s church, she mentioned how beautiful Brant’s arrangement was as she took the seat across from Talulah in the cramped sitting room. She also said that funeral arrangements had come a long way, but Talulah didn’t correct the assumption that what Brant had sent was an example of that. The last thing she needed to do was mention his name.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mrs. Carrier said as she tucked her purse at her feet.
Talulah nodded. “Thank you. Aunt Phoebe was almost a century old, so it wasn’t unexpected, at least.”
“She lived a long and good life. I’m sure you’ll miss her, but I hope it’ll be a comfort to know she’s in a better place.”
Since this woman belonged to Charlie’s church, Talulah guessed she’d heard some of their history. Debbie might even have told her about the wedding. “It’s nice of you to help with the funeral.”
“Phoebe was part of our church family. Of course we’ll help. I bet having you come all the way from Washington to be here at this time means a lot to your mother and sister. It must be difficult for Carolyn to miss the funeral, and Debbie wishes she could do more to help. She told me so on the phone.”
“She told me that, too, but she has enough to worry about with the new baby coming,” Talulah said. “I can manage here.”
“Of course you can, especially because we’re happy to fill in wherever you need us.”
The “we” in that statement referred to the church generally, Talulah supposed. “I appreciate that.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Carrier bent to withdraw a piece of paper from her purse, which she held in her lap as she continued. “The building is available on Thursday, as we discussed. I was thinking we’d start at two. That should allow time for the graveside service afterward before we return to the church for dinner.”
“That sounds good.”
She smiled as she handed Talulah the paper she’d taken out of her purse. “This is the sign-up sheet I circulated during services today, asking for volunteers to contribute to the meal.”
Talulah gazed at the names of the various people who’d answered that call. A few of them she recognized as friends of her parents’ or people she’d known from childhood. Five of eight slots had been taken for “Potatoes,” six of eight for “Green Salad,” five of five for “Dinner Rolls,” only three of eight for “Gelatin Fruit Salad” and eight out of eight for “Brownies.”
“I’m going to make a double batch of potatoes myself,” Mrs. Carrier said. “That should give us enough. And the church will provide the ham.”
“What a great menu,” Talulah said. “It’s nice of everyone to contribute.”
“Many hands make light work,” she chirped.
Talulah glanced down the list again. Aunt Phoebe would have the standard church funeral, which she probably would’ve liked. That so many people were willing to share the work and expense was deeply touching. But it also made Talulah feel a greater responsibility to her own flesh and blood. She could do more for her great aunt herself. There wasn’t any reason to lean on these people where she didn’t have to.
“I’ll email everyone the recipe for each item so that the meal’s consistent,” Mrs. Carrier informed her.
Talulah folded the paper and handed it back to her. “This is very gracious. But could you email to tell them they won’t have to bring anything this time?”
“Excuse me?”
“I could use your help with getting the speakers and arranging any musical numbers for the service, plus setting up the tables and chairs for dinner. But while it was so kind of you to gather volunteers, I’ll handle the meal myself.”
She blinked several times. “The whole meal?”
“I’ve been to culinary school and can do it if I start tomorrow. Will I be able to use the kitchen at the church Thursday morning?”
“Of course. I can let you in as early as you’d like.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“You’re signing up for a lot of work...”
She was obviously giving Talulah the chance to change her mind. But Talulah was set on making the best meal Coyote Canyon had ever tasted. She wanted to do it for her late mother’s aunt, to prove to Phoebe that she was no slouch, even though Phoebe had always preferred her church family. And, she supposed, she was also hoping to show Charlie and those who hated her for what she’d done fourteen years ago that she’d made good. So many had believed that breaking off the engagement and leaving Coyote Canyon meant her judgment was lacking and she’d never amount to anything.
“Would you like to speak at the funeral?” Mrs. Carrier asked.
Talulah opened her mouth to say no. She didn’t want to speak, especially in front of people who would be eager to criticize her. The meal was enough of a statement, she told herself. At least she knew she could do that well.
But then she glanced down at the compass tattooed on her arm and remembered what it stood for. She would follow her own conscience regardless of the pressure of “group think,” and she wouldn’t allow anyone to intimidate her or make her feel “less than.” She’d come too far from the self-doubt she’d experienced when she first left her hometown.
“I’ll speak,” she said. “Since I’m the only representative of the family, I feel it’s my duty to say a few words.”
Mrs. Carrier beamed at her. “Your aunt would be so proud.”
Talulah wasn’t convinced of that. Aunt Phoebe had always believed her way was the only way and Talulah’s life philosophy was wrong just because it was different from hers.
But Talulah hoped she’d be able to contribute something meaningful.
After Charlie’s sister Averil went through a divorce four years ago, she’d brought her son, Mitch, back to Coyote Canyon, and this summer Brant had been giving the boy horseback riding lessons. Averil was working paycheck to paycheck at the bank and living with her parents again, and Mitch didn’t have a lot of interaction with his father, who’d moved to California. So, along with Charlie, Brant was trying to help her out and be a good role model for her son.
Charlie was usually the one who brought Mitch to the ranch on Sunday evenings. But after what’d happened this morning, Brant hadn’t expected to see either of them today. He was surprised when Averil’s old Nissan Altima came trundling down the long gravel drive to his house.
He dropped the sledgehammer he’d been using in an attempt to straighten out his bumper as she noticed him by the detached garage and pulled up next to him.
“Hey,” she said as she got out, but there was no smile in the greeting. He could tell by her subdued voice that Charlie had told her about Talulah.
“Hey.” He bent slightly, trying to peer into the back seat. “You bring Mitch?”
She tucked her thick dark hair behind her ears. “Not tonight. I thought you might not be in the mood to deal with riding lessons.”
Brant wasn’t in the mood, but he would’ve done it. “He’s usually pretty excited to come. How’d skipping a week go over with him?”
She tightened the knot on the button-up blouse that was tied above her high-waisted cutoffs. “He’ll live through the disappointment. It’s important for him to learn that we don’t always get what we want.”
“You’re a good mother,” he said. After the loss of her marriage, it would’ve been easy for her to make Mitch her whole world and spoil him rotten, especially in a small town like Coyote Canyon, where there wasn’t much of a social scene. But she had a way of loving him without going too far, and Brant respected her for it.
“I heard about this morning,” she said, leaning up against her car.
Brant adjusted his baseball cap to better shade his eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Figured.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She toed the small rocks beneath her red flip-flops. “Your brother called about an hour ago.”
“Which one?” he asked as he went back to trying to straighten out his bumper with the crowbar.
“Kurt.”
“He shouldn’t have,” he said and meant it.
She sidled closer, trying to get into his line of vision, and jammed her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “He told us you had a concussion and didn’t know what you were doing. That true?”
He straightened while deliberating on his response. If he couldn’t tell the truth, he didn’t want to say anything. “Last night isn’t something I’m willing to discuss.”
Ignoring his gruff response, Averil indicated the bruise on his cheek. “Charlie went too far. He should’ve given you the chance to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. What happened happened. There’s no changing it now. But I can guarantee you that no one was out to hurt Charlie.”
Her lips compressed into a thin, straight line. “God, I hate her.”
“Why?” he asked, taken aback by the vitriol in that statement.
“First, she broke Charlie’s heart—and as if that wasn’t bad enough, now she’s after yours.”
“She’s not after my heart,” he scoffed. All Talulah had tried to do was take care of him. He was the one who’d turned his stay at her place into more.
“She only wants a man until she gets him, Brant. You understand that, right? Jane told me she’s done the same thing she did to Charlie to two other men. Two!”
Standing up so many grooms was excessive, and yet Brant felt slightly defensive of Talulah. After what she’d told him, he sort of understood why she’d done what she’d done and believed she wasn’t being malicious. “She obviously has commitment issues. She’d probably be the first to tell you that.”
“She doesn’t need to tell me. I was a witness to just how big those issues are. She leads the guy on until he goes all in and then—” she snapped her fingers “—it’s over.”
“It’s been fourteen years since the wedding, Averil. When are you going to let that shit go?”
“Emotions aren’t that simple, Brant. She’s a man-eater. And if you’re not careful, you might find that out the hard way.”
“Trust me, I can take care of myself.”
“That’s what you think.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Aren’t you being a little overly dramatic?”
Ignoring that comment, she said, “Why’d you go there, anyway?” The sulky sound of her voice suddenly made him uncomfortable. Was she jealous? Every once in a while, he got the impression she was hoping for more than the friendship he’d offered her. But then, assuming he’d misread the cues, he’d always been able to talk himself out of it. She’d been like a sister to him since they were both kids, and his feelings in that regard hadn’t changed. He couldn’t truly imagine hers had, either.
“I was just trying to deliver an air conditioner.”
“And she got you into bed that easily?”
He dropped the crowbar next to the sledgehammer. “It’s a long story, okay? Can’t we let it go? She didn’t do anything wrong, and I don’t want to make her stay here any more uncomfortable than it already is.”
Shock registered on Averil’s face, and she stepped back. “Oh my God. You like her.”
He couldn’t deny it, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Are you kidding me?” she continued. “You’ve always hated her!”
“Hate’s far too strong a word.”
“Are you saying you were friends when we were in high school? Because that’s not the way I remember it. Neither of you had anything nice to say about the other.”
He shrugged. “That was then.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there’s no reason to hold a grudge.”
“What about Charlie? What she did at the wedding is a reason.”
“That’s between the two of them. Charlie’s a big boy. He doesn’t need us taking up for him against an ex-girlfriend. Besides, what she and Charlie had has been over for a long time.”
She barked out a humorless laugh. “I can’t believe this. She’s that good in bed?”
He had no complaints, but he knew better than to say so. “You’re making too big a deal of it. That’s all.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to see her again?”
He couldn’t help glancing away. “We don’t have any plans, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You’ve never had your heart broken, have you,” she said.
It was a statement, not a question. “Not really. I guess I’ve been lucky.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope your luck isn’t about to run out,” she said and got back in the car, her tires spewing gravel as she whipped around and shot down the drive.
Brant took off his work gloves as he watched her go. He wasn’t getting anywhere with the dent in the bumper of his truck; he was only making it worse. And he had a feeling the conversation he’d just had with Charlie’s sister hadn’t gone his way, either.
On Sundays, almost everything was closed in Coyote Canyon, so Talulah had to wait until Monday morning to visit Terrell’s Market. She hated that she’d lost so much time; it was going to take every moment of the next few days to make enough food for the funeral. Almost the whole town had known Phoebe.
“Maybe I should’ve thought more carefully about this,” Talulah mumbled as she stared at the piles and piles of groceries she’d unloaded onto her aunt’s dining table, counters and every other horizontal surface. Unlike the commercial space she was privileged to work in at the dessert diner, with its giant ovens and refrigerators, she’d be limited to her aunt’s tiny kitchen. She’d have to store some of the food in the fridge at the church, in Sarah Carrier’s fridge and possibly Jane’s.
Besides that, she’d have to make everything during this terrible heat wave. She was already beginning to sweat. The air conditioner, which she’d requested Brant to put in the basement was too heavy for her to lift. She was afraid she’d drop it while coming up the stairs, so she didn’t dare try.
Too bad she hadn’t thought of making the meal before he’d put it in the basement...
For a brief moment, she felt overwhelmed enough to regret her decision to tackle such a big endeavor. But then she remembered what had inspired her to do it in the first place. She wanted to be there for Phoebe as a member of the family, to prove she could deliver, even though everyone considered her their weakest link.
She wouldn’t renege on the commitment she’d made. She’d follow through and do her best.
After turning on some music, she scrubbed her hands and spent the next few hours making the rather unusual but delicious gelatin fruit salad her aunt had brought to almost every family function—one that, among other things, contained finely grated cheddar cheese, lots of heavy whipping cream and chopped walnuts. Talulah had decided she’d make all of Phoebe’s favorites—the dishes her aunt was known for, including lasagna, which she’d make with the tomato sauce Phoebe had canned. She’d also share the dill pickles, pickled beets, peaches and pears from her aunt’s cellar.
As she worked, her heart felt lighter and lighter. It made her happy to think Phoebe would be pleased with what she was doing, that her great aunt would like helping to provide one last meal to the loved ones she’d left behind.
Talulah had finished four double batches of the gelatin fruit salad, which filled eight large baking dishes. She was just trying to squeeze the last of those into the refrigerator when her phone went off.
Her heart jumped into her throat the second she saw that it was her sister. Was Debbie in labor?
“No. No, no, no,” she said. Debbie couldn’t have the baby while she had so much to do for the funeral!
After quickly rinsing and drying her hands, she hit the green phone button before the call could transfer to voice mail. “Is it time?” she asked without preamble.
“Sadly, no,” Debbie responded.
“You’re not feeling anything? Not even false labor?”
“I’m feeling uncomfortable. Does that count?”
“No, you were uncomfortable the last time we talked.”
Debbie chuckled and Talulah wondered what it would feel like to be pregnant, especially this pregnant. Would she ever have that experience? Maybe she’d end up like her spinster aunt, with a niece one day cooking the meal for her funeral. “So what’s up?” she asked.
Her sister sobered. “Mom called me a few minutes ago.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “It’s the middle of the night in Africa, isn’t it?”
“Not quite but close.”
“She must be excited about the baby.”
“I think she is, but that isn’t why she called.”
Talulah sank into a kitchen chair. She’d been on her feet all day, and something about Debbie’s response made her uneasy. “What did she want?”
“Dinah contacted her an hour ago.”
“Charlie’s mom?” Of course. Now Talulah knew what this was about. Word was traveling even faster than she’d expected. “To tell her about Brant?”
“So...it’s true?”
Talulah dropped her head into her free hand. “I’m thirty-two, Debbie,” she replied. “My sex life should not be any of my mother’s concern.”
“I agree with you...to a point. But you have to realize that you’re not in Seattle anymore. What you do in Coyote Canyon reflects on Mom and Dad. They have so many lifelong friends who still live there.”
“I understand that. It wasn’t supposed to become public knowledge.”
“You really slept with Brant?”
Talulah couldn’t deny it. “I might have,” she said softly.
Her response was met with a long moment of silence. Then Debbie said, “I thought you didn’t like him.”
Talulah was beginning to sweat even more than when she’d been cooking in the hot kitchen. Desperate for some fresh air, she hurried through the sitting room and burst onto the porch, slamming the crooked screen door against the house as she went. “I don’t know what to say. It was... It was... I guess I made a snap decision, and it wasn’t the right one.”
“You think? How’d it happen?” her sister asked.
“I have no idea. Not really.” It wasn’t any cooler outside. Rivulets of sweat ran down Talulah’s back and dampened her hair. Remembering the air conditioner, she went back inside, down to the basement, and sat directly in front of the unit, which was already cranked up as high as it could go.
“Did you two go out?” Debbie prodded. “Or did you invite him over for a drink or something when you saw him at the café?”
“No. It was nothing like that. He brought me a portable cooling unit because we’re in the middle of a heat wave. That’s all.”
“Apparently, that isn’t all,” she said. “What about Paul?”
“I’ve told you before that Paul and I are not an item. I didn’t cheat on him.”
“Does he know what happened with Brant?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“At this point, I think he might be the only one who doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to hear about it, certainly not right now.”
“Okay, but...how’d things progress from Brant bringing over a portable cooling unit to Charlie finding you both naked yesterday morning?”
Talulah angled the vents to blow more directly on her. “We weren’t naked.”
“From what he’s telling everyone, you weren’t fully dressed.”
She cringed as she remembered the unpleasant surprise of coming downstairs to find Charlie in the house. “I’d rather not go over the details. What happened is nobody’s business but my own.”
“That’s easy to say, but a lot of people are talking, and they’ll all be staring daggers at you during the funeral. It’s not as if Charlie or any of his family feel the need to protect you or your privacy.”
“They wouldn’t have been friendly to me anyway.”
“True, but they’ll use this to make you look as bad as possible. It’ll be their revenge.”
“I don’t care,” she said, even though that wasn’t remotely true. She’d always liked Dinah and the rest of Charlie’s family, especially his younger sister. “I’ll put in my time here, take care of Aunt Phoebe’s funeral and possessions for Mom and Dad’s sake, and then I’ll be gone.”
“That’s probably easier said than done,” Debbie said. “What about Averil?”
Talulah had long wished she could repair her relationship with Charlie’s sister. When she agreed to come back to Coyote Canyon, she’d still been holding out hope that once Averil realized she was in town they’d be able to get past the wedding. But Charlie had probably ruined any chance of that. “What about her?”
“I know how much you miss her.”
Talulah tried to ignore the pang her sister’s words created in her heart and focused instead on the sweat drying on her skin and in her hair. She craved another shower, but it wouldn’t do her any good to wash up until she was finished cooking. “Averil will never forgive me now.”
“Should I call a few friends and ask them to look out for you while you’re there? I don’t want anyone to mistreat you.”
Debbie had always been a good sister, which was part of the reason Talulah felt so bad about fleeing her own wedding. She’d understood how mortified her family would be. The shame and embarrassment she knew it would cause them was part of the reason she’d felt trapped by the engagement and unable to back out sooner. “I’ll survive.”
“Are you sure? I could ask Joanie and Rebecca to go to the funeral with you. That way you won’t feel so alone.”
Joanie and Rebecca were two of Debbie’s closest childhood friends and they each had their own young families to take care of. “No, thanks. Why would they want to go to a funeral for someone they barely knew? I say we forget about what happened with Brant.”
“Does that mean you won’t be seeing him again?”
“We might bump into each other around town. But knowing Brant, it was just another night for him. He’s probably already forgotten about it.”
“Okay.”
But it wasn’t fifteen minutes later, right after she’d gotten off the phone with Debbie and returned to the kitchen, that Talulah got a text from him.