Chapter Seven

AS PATSY CLINE BELTED “Crazy” from the sound system, Noah decided the song couldn’t be more appropriate. He was slow dancing beneath the stars with Willow Eldridge in his arms. Nothing had felt this good in a very long time. Never mind that his leg was killing him.

Willow was a dream. Tall and lithe, she flowed like water around the dance floor despite his less-than-graceful lead. She looked fabulous in a frothy green dress that made him think of mint ice cream. She’s a Dreamsicle. Used to be an ice-cream bar by that name when he was a kid. Wonder if they still make them?

They didn’t speak, but the silence was comfortable. Though they stood at the edge of a crowded dance floor, it somehow felt as if the two of them were alone.

Noah pulled her a little closer, wallowing in her warmth. He shut his eyes and turned his face into her hair. Roses, he thought. She smells like roses. He felt the stirrings of desire and hummed along with Patsy. Crazy.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to nuzzle her neck and nip her ear just below the diamond stud. He wanted to taste the champagne on her lips and know the heat of her breath. It would be so easy to go with this moment and do what felt so natural.

Noah lifted his head. His gaze met Willow’s and—

Something tugged at his slacks. He ignored it. Tug. Tug. Tug.

Willow said, “Emma, what are you doing?”

The little girl stood staring up at him with her mother’s eyes. “My turn, please.”

Aw, hell. “Uh.”

“I want to dance. You can lift me up. That’s what Uncle Jake and Uncle Lucas do. You’ve danced with Mama long enough, Mr. Noah. It’s my turn.”

Willow looked at Noah, waiting for his response. What was he supposed to say? I can’t deal with little girls? Yeah, right. Willow would think he was a perv or something. Why was Emma here yanking on his britches, anyway? Wasn’t it past her bedtime?

“Emma,” Willow scolded, though she didn’t take her gaze off Noah. “You’re being impolite.”

On the defensive, he attempted to explain. To excuse. “I can’t carry her. My leg…”

It worked—damn his weak-ass soul for the cowardly excuse. Willow’s expression melted with sympathy. “Of course. Emma, leave Mr. Noah alone. Go ask Nana to dance with you. Or Aunt Helen.”

“They’re girls.”

“So what? Girls can dance with girls.”

“But I want a man.”

Willow laughed, and Noah thought he heard her mutter, “Yes, well, don’t we all?”

Noah suddenly needed to get away—from the little girl, the oh-so-appealing woman, and everyone. Being around all these people was making him a Patsy Cline poster child. Crazy crazy crazy. He had to escape. “Tell you what, Emma. Dancing with your mom is just about the best thing ever. I’ll let you take my place.”

Coward that he was, Noah let his hand slide away from Willow’s waist. He placed her hand in her daughter’s and beat a retreat.

Damn, he hated himself.

So what else was new?

He snagged a drink from a passing waiter’s tray and headed off into the darkness away from the party, his thoughts as black as midnight. What the hell had he been thinking when he accepted Willow’s invitation? He had no business trying to mix with normal people.

Oh, it had started out well enough. In the early part of the event, he basically had been a date in name only.

Since Willow and the children had been members of the bridal party, they’d been required to be at the church long before the guests arrived. Noah hadn’t needed to pick anybody up. He had driven Willow and her kids from the church to the lodge, but nothing about that ride had been date-like, either. She’d spent almost the entire time on the phone with her assistant, a “day of ” coordinator, for which she’d apologized profusely. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she’d said when she’d hung up the phone. “I knew I’d be working for most of the wedding. I’m so sorry, Noah.”

“Hey, no worries at all. I get a steak dinner out of it.”

An excellent steak dinner, it had turned out. Even the company during the meal had been tolerable since he’d been seated next to Drew and the boy rarely shut his mouth. Didn’t matter if it was full of food, something his mother chastised him about each time she caught him at it.

After dinner, he’d felt obliged to ask Willow to dance. He’d been thinking about kissing her, and then the tug on his pants and a pretty little girl staring up at him with stars in her big green eyes—it had transported him back to another place, another time.

Daddy already danced with me. Your turn, Uncle Noah!

Noah took a swig of his drink, and the smooth, smoky bourbon slid down his throat like angel tears.

“You’re a shit, Tannehill,” he murmured. “She’s just a little girl. Go back and ask the little girl to dance.”

He turned around, gazed toward the dance floor, and two events captured his attention. First, Willow and Emma were indeed dancing. Well, a version of dancing. They were holding hands, hopping around, and giggling. Under other circumstances, he might have smiled at the sight. The second event was somewhat alarming.

Genevieve Prentice rose abruptly from her table and headed his way, her expression distressed. As she drew closer, he saw that she had tears spilling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. What in the world had happened?

No one else appeared to have noticed Genevieve’s flight. Acting on instinct, Noah melted back into the shadows as she rushed by.

Genevieve disappeared into the darkness along the shoreline of Mirror Lake.

Well, hell. Noah stood frozen in indecision. He needed to make amends to Willow’s daughter for his yellow-bellied retreat back there, or it would plague him like a chigger bite for weeks. He glanced back toward Willow. She and Emma obviously weren’t devastated by his action. But Genevieve. Something must be really wrong for Genevieve to dash off from her son’s wedding reception.

Noah watched to see if she recovered and returned. While doing so, he remembered his own mother at Daniel’s wedding. She hadn’t wanted to miss a minute of it. A smile touched his lips at the memory. She’d whined about having to go to the bathroom because it took her too long to shimmy in and out of her spandex shapewear, or as she called it, her “suck-it-ins.”

Noah waited for the length of one whole song and debated going to tell Willow what he’d seen. Knowing his luck, she’d hand the kid off to him, check on her mother, and then be gone for the rest of the night. Noah gave it another minute, then wandered in the direction that Genevieve had taken.

He saw her standing on one of the small fishing docks staring out at the water. He stopped, pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then made a quick detour before advancing to approach her. “Did the music get too loud for you, Genevieve?”

She jumped. “Oh, Noah. I didn’t see you.”

“I’m sorry if I startled you. I saw you standing alone out here, and I thought you might be getting away from the noise for a few minutes. Thought you might be thirsty.” He handed her the fresh cocktail he’d snagged from the waiter. “My compliments to your bartenders. These are excellent.”

“It’s all Willow’s doing. I had nothing to do with it.”

Well, that was definitely a bitter note he heard in her voice. Moonlight reflected off her face and illuminated the tear streaks on her cheeks.

Okay, now what do I do?

Turning around and leaving would probably be the kindest thing. However, Noah kept thinking about his own mother and how in her last days, she relived the favorite memories of her life, including Daniel’s wedding day. So he said, “I may be way off base here, and I’m probably out of line, but I know what it’s like to want to hide and nurse your wounds. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers than friends. If you’d like to talk, I’m happy to listen. I give you my word it will all stay right here.”

She appeared startled and a little embarrassed. “Oh, Noah. Thank you, but I’m fine. It’s nothing. Just a little mother-ofthe-groom moment.”

“Okay.”

“And I did need a break from the music.”

“I understand. Me, too.”

Genevieve sipped her drink. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening.”

“I am. That rib eye was the best I’ve had in ages.” And he wasn’t going to talk about himself or how he’d become Willow’s plus-one. Or was he Drew’s plus-one? He still wasn’t exactly sure how that fell out.

“Good. My steak was excellent, too. Willow was a little worried about the catering, but they’ve done a fine job. Everything’s been great. She’s done an excellent job.”

“That she has.”

“Gage Throckmorton wants to ask her to plan the grand-opening event for The Emily. It’s the old movie theater downtown that Gage and I have been working together to renovate. It’s named for his late wife—he lost her to cancer not too long ago—and we’re having a big gala when it opens.”

“That’s nice.” Wasn’t it? He thought he might have detected that bitter note again. Was she angry at Willow over something? All righty, then. He was gonna beat feet. He had zero interest in getting into the middle of family drama.

Now to ease his way out.

Then Genevieve sighed heavily. “Actually, Noah, I’m feeling a little put out about it, and that makes me feel like a queen B. Throw in the fact that my sister just announced that she’s decided to run for mayor… well, I’ll be honest. I’m jealous of them.”

Yes. Well. Crap. Apparently, Genevieve was taking him up on his offer to listen. What the hell had he been thinking? “Um…”

He didn’t know what to say, so he took a sip of his drink.

Genevieve didn’t appear to mind, because now that she’d gotten started, she kept on going. “I’m right back where I started sixteen months ago. Sixteen months is a long time when your sands are free-falling, I’m telling you. I’ve wasted sixteen months, and I don’t have sixteen months to waste!”

“I’m sorry. You’ve lost me, Genevieve.”

“I have nothing to do! I decided to move to Colorado sixteen months ago, ready to make a fresh start and a new life and be someone who is more than Mom. Now Raindrop is finished, and The Emily might as well be, and all I am is my gravestone!”

“Okay, I was with you for a bit, but I’m gone again.”

“She made a great meat loaf!”

Meat loaf! He really should go find Willow. No, maybe the groom or the other brother or both of them. Or maybe this called for the entire Prentice family. Well, everyone except that precious little girl who brought to mind another little angel. A little fatherless angel.

Stop it! The last thing they needed was for Noah to follow Genevieve down Maudlin Road.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Noah. I probably sound a little crazy, don’t I?”

“Um… I don’t think I’ll answer that.”

She chuffed a little laugh. “A lot crazy, then. I was trying to make a point to my children a while back, and I asked them what epitaph they believed was appropriate for my gravestone. Except for Lucas’s meat loaf suggestion, everyone agreed on one word—family. Family has been the focus of my life.”

“That’s… nice?”

“It is. Yes, it is! Only, I grew too dependent on my family. My family was my life. But it smothered my children and me, so I did something about it. I started a new life.”

“That’s great.” Wasn’t it?

“So why am I back at the beginning? I love the time I spend with Emma and Drew, but dammit, I want Bora-Bora, too! Why does family have to be both a lodestone and a millstone? I no sooner find some balance in my life than my chickens come home to roost, and it’s so hard to say no because they’re cute and fluffy, and they grow up so fast.”

Noah decided that keeping his mouth shut was the best thing to do under the circumstances, so he took another sip of his drink and listened.

“So I give up Bora-Bora, but I’ll always have Bogart and Bacall, only, let’s give that to planner chick, which truly is a smart idea, only, what am I going to do with my life because it’s wrong to waste a minute of it because of sands, you know? I have a big birthday this year.”

Drew obviously got his run-on sentences from his grandmother. Despite his best intentions, Noah couldn’t help but ask, “Sands?”

“‘Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.’ Daytime TV. A soap opera. My life is a soap opera. The most boring one ever!”

This was getting out of hand. “I can see that you have some issues to work through, Genevieve, but I worry that you will regret doing this tonight. What I hear is that you are passionate about your family. This is a family event, and I’m sure you’ve felt passionate about it. If I may, I’ll share a piece of advice. My mom expressed regret until the day she died for the forty minutes of my brother’s wedding reception that she missed because she got stuck in her shapewear.”

“Oh no!” Genevieve said with true horror in her tone. “She didn’t.”

“She did. You need to go back to the party, Genevieve. Jake and Willow will notice you’re gone, and they’ll worry about you.”

“You’re right. I know. Noah, I apologize for dumping all of this on you. I don’t know what came over me. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Don’t worry about me. Actually, I was happy for the distraction. I’ve been battling a few ghosts of my own tonight.”

“Oh.” She blinked up at him. “Do you want to talk about them?”

“Nope. I think we both should get back to the party and the business of having fun. Come with me, Genevieve, and next time something slow comes on that doesn’t require a lot of movement on my part, will you honor me with a dance?”

“Yes. I’d love to dance with you, Noah. Thank you.”

It turned out that just as they reached the reception area, the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” began to play. Noah gave her a questioning look. “This one?”

“Perfect.”

“Fair warning, with my bum leg, I sway more than move.”

“Even more perfect.” He set their empty glasses onto a bar tray, took her into his arms, and they began to dance. They didn’t speak throughout the first verse, then Genevieve said, “I danced to this song with my husband at our wedding. David was a swayer, too. Not because he had a leg injury, but because he had two left feet.”

Genevieve’s wistful tone suggested that her meltdown might be over. Thank God.

Over Genevieve’s shoulder, Noah caught sight of little Emma Eldridge. She was running around the tables chasing another little girl. Maybe after this, he would track her down and give the dance a go.

Then again, maybe not. Obviously, she hadn’t been as traumatized by his refusal as had he. He probably should just let that idea go.

Genevieve lifted her face toward him and smiled. “I’m sorry I subjected you to my emotional tizzy, Noah.”

“Don’t worry about it. Today’s an emotional day, and it sounds like you’re at a turning point in your life. Sometimes you have to spit those words out before they can start making sense to you. I understand that.”

“A turning point. Yes. I just need to find a new project.”

Noah frowned, opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. Not quickly enough, because eagle-eyed Genevieve spotted it. “What? You don’t think I need a new project?”

“Not exactly. Look, it’s not my—”

“Tell me.”

He shrugged. “Okay. I think you need a new passion. I mean, your family is obviously your passion, which is all well and good, but it sounds to me like you need something else to care about that’s more than a project.”

“I’m not looking for romance.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of passion. Well, it could be that kind of passion, but I’m thinking more along the lines of an interest like travel or hiking or spelunking.”

“Spelunking?” she said with a laugh. “I hardly think so.”

“I’m talking about something that isn’t finished when your activity connected to it is finished. You’re passionate about your family. Is there something else that pops to mind? What about travel? You mentioned Bora-Bora earlier. Willow told me she knows you wanted to go with your sister to the South Pacific, but she thinks you didn’t go because of her kids.”

“She told you that? You know, Willow and I are overdue a heart-to-heart talk.” Genevieve exhaled a sigh. “I do enjoy traveling with my sister, but I don’t know that I’d label traveling a passion. It’s a lot of work.”

“Well, think about it. Don’t look for a new project. Look for a new passion. That’s my advice, and it’s worth exactly what you paid for it.” The song was drawing to an end—thank goodness. Noah figured he’d stepped outside his comfort zone plenty far enough already.

“I will think about it. Thank you, Noah. You’ve been so kind to a crazy old woman.”

“Not crazy.” I claimed that song earlier tonight. “And you are far from being old.”

“I like you, Noah Tannehill.”

“I like you, too, Genevieve Prentice. Thank you for the dance.”

Noah escorted Willow’s mother back toward her table, and then he truly did need to get off his feet. He headed back toward the lakeside bench that had been his original destination before Genevieve rushed past him. Happy to find it unoccupied, he sank into the seat with a little groan. I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind.

He had maybe three minutes of peace. He wasn’t even that surprised when Drew sat down next to him. “Hi, Mr. Tannehill. I hardly got to talk to you at all today.”

“You talked to me plenty.”

“Not about your dog. I heard you have a dog! I want to know more about him. Why didn’t I meet him when I visited your house? I love dogs. I want a puppy so bad, but Mom won’t let me have one until we’re settled. I don’t know when we’re going to be settled. Are you having fun? Are people being nice to you? I hope so. I’ve told everyone you’re my friend, but sometimes, that’s when they act like bullies. It’s ’cause they’re jealous. How come you walked away into the dark? I wanted to go after you and make sure nobody was mean to you, but Mom said to leave you alone. Are you okay, Mr. Tannehill?”

Not to Noah’s surprise but to his consternation, the boy’s little sister took a seat at Noah’s other side. She spoke to her brother. “Don’t be stupid, Drew. He’s not okay. He has a bad boo-boo on his leg.”

Then little Emma Eldridge leaned over and killed him.

She kissed Noah’s knee.

Willow worked into the wee hours of the morning following the wedding reception overseeing the cleanup. She would have liked to sleep in, but duty called early Sunday morning when she and the kiddos went to her mom’s for the final event of the wedding weekend: a brunch Genevieve hosted for family and out-of-town guests. She had insisted that Willow be nothing more than a guest at the event, and Willow happily complied.

Maggie and Tom attempted to corner her and discuss their “gift,” but Willow successfully avoided the conversation. Before they left to drive to Durango to catch their flight home, she promised Maggie a phone call on Wednesday. When their car pulled away from Genevieve’s curb, Willow drank a celebratory glass of champagne and ignored her mother’s curious look.

After the brunch, her family dispersed. Jake and Tess headed off to the Maldives on their honeymoon, Lucas traveled home to Texas, and Brooke resumed the extended tour of Europe she’d interrupted for her brother’s nuptials. Before gathering up her children and carting them back to Raindrop Lodge, Willow summoned her courage and asked her mother to meet her for coffee on Monday morning.

After that, Willow decided to ignore the anxiety Maggie Eldridge had introduced into her world during the past week and give herself a lazy Sunday afternoon.

It was heaven. The weather was fabulous, and the kids played outside most of the time. They were tired, too, so they didn’t wander off for once. Willow sat in the sunshine, read a book, and tried not to think about tomorrow.

Confessions of secret keeping about her marital troubles and seeking advice for life-changing decisions could wait another day. If she spent a little of her downtime dreaming about Noah Tannehill, well, a little fantasy didn’t hurt a girl, did it?

But like always, Monday morning did arrive. Willow had hired an off-duty employee of Raindrop Lodge to watch the children for a few hours. The talk she needed to have with her mother required privacy and zero interruptions—neither of which she’d get if her children were around.

Willow put hard rock on her stereo and thrummed her fingers nervously on the steering wheel as she approached her mother’s home. She’d stopped at the bakery on her way for cinnamon rolls. If ever a conversation needed sugar courage, this was it.

She pulled into the drive, shifted into park, and shut off the engine. Where was she going to start?

Probably that god-awful Christmas party. Willow would sit down at her mother’s kitchen table, open the bakery box, and spill the whole ugly story while eating some sugar with her crow.

Her mother had been right about Andy all along. She had been right, and Willow had been wrong. Not only wrong but spectacularly wrong. Colossally wrong.

Willow wondered if one of the reasons she’d found it so hard to forgive her mother for not liking Andy at the start was because, deep down inside herself, Willow knew, or at least suspected, that her mother was right.

Genevieve Prentice had wicked-good instincts.

Willow moaned softly and scooped up the bakery box. She opened her car door and stepped out into the crisp mountain morning. Birdsong trilled in the air, and the springtime breeze was just right to hear the rush and bubble of the creek below. Her mother’s traditional red geranium brightened the front porch.

Willow girded her proverbial loins and headed for the door. She rapped twice and tried the knob. Unlocked. Stepping inside, she called, “Mom?”

From upstairs came her mother’s voice. “Willow, is that you?”

“Yes.”

Following a moment’s pause, Genevieve called, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay.” Willow set the bakery box in the middle of the table and took two plates from the kitchen cabinet. She hesitated at the coffee bar. Should she make a pot or stick with the single serve? Willow could drink coffee all day long, but her mother usually cut it off after her two morning cups.

Deciding to start with a single cup, Willow began the prep. She’d just put two scoops of dark roast into the filtered basket when her mother breezed into the kitchen. She was dressed for going out in black denim jeans, a white shirt, and a black-and-white vertically striped sweater. She wore wooden earrings and a matching necklace she’d taken to fancying. Pretty dressed up for morning coffee in the kitchen, Willow thought.

“Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Didn’t you get my text?”

“You sent a text? When?”

“Last night.”

Willow tugged her phone from her pocket and checked the screen. She hadn’t received a text from her mother. “You didn’t send me a text.”

“I didn’t?” Frowning, Genevieve pivoted and exited the kitchen. She returned a moment later with her phone in her hand. “I’m such a doofus. I accidentally scrolled one name too far and sent it to Winstead Dentistry. Oops.” She crossed the room and gave Willow a hug. “I’m sorry you made the trip, honey, but I can’t visit this morning. I’m on my way out of town. A car is coming for me in—” She glanced at the digital readout on the oven. “It’ll be here any minute.”

“Wait. You’re going out of town? Today? Why? What happened? What’s the emergency?” Thinking of her siblings, she added, “Did someone have trouble after leaving Lake in the Clouds?”

“No, no. Everyone is fine. As far as I know, anyway. I’m going away for ten days. Well, almost two weeks, counting travel time, because I’m going to mosey. If one actually moseys in a Maserati. I’ll be back a week from Friday. I don’t want to miss my hair appointment Saturday morning.”

“A Maserati! Mom! What is going on?”

A wicked twinkle entered her mother’s eyes. “Apparently, I caught Helen’s travel bug while hearing her describe the fish in the South Pacific Ocean for the seven hundredth time Saturday night.”

“You’re not going to Bora-Bora!”

“Not in a Maserati, no. I’m driving to New Mexico. But first, I’m going to Aspen to pick up the car.”

“You bought a sports car. Oh, Mom. You’re doing it again, aren’t you? It’s another getaway? Have you put this house up for sale?”

“Willow!” Genevieve exclaimed. “You’re not listening and you’re jumping to conclusions. I’m renting a Maserati from a luxury car service in Aspen and driving it to New Mexico.”

Now? Just when Willow had finally stoked herself up to tell her mother the truth about the disaster of her life. “Why?”

“Driving a car like that through the mountains will be an adventure.”

“Yes, I can see that it would be, but why are you going to New Mexico?”

“Immersive drawing classes.” Genevieve’s expression lit with delight. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”

Since when? This was the first Willow had ever heard about it.

This must be another one of Aunt Helen’s wild hairs. The two of them must have cooked this scheme up after having one too many glasses of champagne Saturday night.

Genevieve continued, “The class had a last-minute cancellation, so I snapped it up.”

“Wait. Auntie isn’t going with you?”

Her mother sounded almost gleeful as she said, “Nope.

It’s just me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, I don’t have time to explain.” Genevieve opened the drawer of her built-in desk and removed an envelope of cash, which she slipped into her purse. “Where is that extra phone charger of mine?”

She snapped her fingers and exited the kitchen.

Willow followed her mother into the great room, where she tugged a charger free from a wall plug. Willow’s gaze locked on the wheeled suitcase and matching tote waiting beside the front door, and her world narrowed to the set of Louis Vuitton. No! Mom, you can’t leave. Not now. I have to decide what to do. “But Mom. I need you!”

Genevieve turned around, the cord dangling from her hand, her eyes glittering with exasperation. “Willow, I’m sorry, but I need this trip. I love you and the children to the moon and back, but the world can’t always revolve around your needs. Today, I’m making myself a priority. I need some balance in my life. I’m sure you can find another babysitter for the next two weeks.”

This isn’t about babysitting! “But Mom, wait a minute.”

“I don’t have a minute,” Genevieve said, heading for the door as the bell chimed. “Here’s my car.”

Willow stood in speechless shock as her mother greeted an older man wearing a blue polo shirt and khaki slacks who stood on the front stoop. “Mrs. Prentice? I’m Mark with Allied Car Service.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Mark. I’m ready to go.”

He gestured toward her bags. “Is this it?”

“Yes.”

The driver took the bags. Genevieve returned to the kitchen for her purse, then hurried past Willow, pausing only to brush a quick kiss on her cheek. “Bye, hon. Please lock up when you leave. You have a key.”

The front door shut behind her with a firm thump.

Willow stood in her mother’s living room, dazed and dismayed. The sound of a trunk slamming shook her from her stupor, and she rushed outside. Her mother was climbing into the back of a black sedan. “Mom? Mom. Mom! Listen, please!”

With one leg in the car, her mother halted and Willow hurried to say, “I didn’t come for babysitting. I wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk with you. About Andy and everything. I want to try to clear the air.”

For a long moment, Genevieve stood frozen in place. Then she lowered her sunglasses and peered over their top toward her daughter. “You have spectacular timing, Willow.”

Willow gave her a troubled smile. “Apparently so.”

“Oh, honey.” Genevieve’s fingers drummed against the car door for a good fifteen seconds before she lowered her leg to the ground and stepped away from the car. “I’ve wanted to have this talk with you for years. I can stay.”

Okay, good. Willow expelled a sigh of relief, but then the expression on her mother’s face gave her pause. The excitement had gone from Genevieve Prentice’s countenance. A minute ago, she’d been happy and eager. Now, her mother looked disappointed and tense.

Willow’s stomach dipped. This was wrong. She shouldn’t expect her mother to drop everything just so that her grown daughter could cry on her shoulder about things that happened years ago. No one was bleeding. This wasn’t a matter of life and death. Grow up, Willow. Mom obviously has something going on. You need to stand on your own two feet here. “Mom? This trip is important to you, isn’t it?”

Genevieve gazed at Willow solemnly. “Yes, it is.”

“Then you should go. This conversation has kept for a decade. There’s no reason why it can’t keep for another two weeks.”

“Are you sure?”

Maggie Eldridge would push for an answer on Wednesday, yes, but Willow suddenly knew what she needed to do. She needed to be brave like her mother—for herself and for her children.

“I’m sure, Mom. You go ahead to New Mexico.”

“We will have this talk when I get home?”

“We will.”

Her mother’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Great. I really need to attend this class. C’mere and give me a hug.”

The moment of being wrapped in her mother’s arms ended all too soon for Willow. However, the whirlwind of emotion churning through her had settled a bit with her mother’s hug. She was able to think more clearly. As the driver went to shut the door, Willow took a big step forward and called, “Hold on a second. Mom, one thing. Why is a last-minute drawing class in New Mexico so important to you?”

“Ask Noah.”

“Noah? Noah Tannehill?”

“Yes.”

Now Willow really didn’t understand. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

“He has everything to do with this. Ask him to explain about my passion. The tock is clicking. Let’s go, Mark.”

The driver shut the door. Her mother smiled and waved through the window as the sedan pulled away from the curb.

“Passion?” Willow watched the car depart, a sense of disbelief rolling through her. “What could Noah possibly know about my mother’s passion?”