The Oak Springs Farm driveway wound through an arching canopy of moss-covered oaks and towering pines, but Conley was oblivious to all of it. “Follow that dog,” she instructed Skelly as he drove down the sandy lane. “If something happens to Opie, G’mama will kill me. And then she’ll kill you too.”
Every few hundred yards, the dog stopped to rest. Skelly slowed the truck and Conley jumped out to approach the dog on foot, but each time she came close enough to grab him, Opie trotted off, playing his own game of keepaway with the pursuers. At the end of the lane they finally spotted a white, two-story farmhouse with wide porches tucked behind a pair of spreading live oaks.
A tall, white-haired woman stood on the porch, her arms firmly wrapped around the squirming brown-and-white Jack Russell terrier, while half a dozen dogs circled around her, barking and whining.
“Thank God,” Conley breathed. Skelly had barely put the Subaru in Park before she was out of the car and running.
“Is this your dog?” the woman called. She had light blue eyes and weather-beaten skin and was dressed in faded blue jeans, mud-spattered work boots, and a navy-blue T-shirt.
“Opie!” Conley said, holding out her arms. “You bad boy!” She turned to the woman. “Thanks so much for catching him.” She looked down at all the dogs surrounding her. “They wouldn’t hurt him, would they?”
“No, they’re just curious. Bird dogs are the nosiest creatures you’ll ever meet. And they’re a little jealous.”
“They’re beautiful,” Conley said of the elegant dogs. “What breed are they?”
“They’re all English setters. Llewellyn setters, if you want to get technical.” The woman stuck out her hand. “Don’t mind the dirt or the dogs. I’m Toddie, by the way.”
“And I’m Conley.” She turned to gesture toward Skelly and Miss June, who were standing beside the car. “I believe you might know those folks?”
Toddie fished a pair of glasses from the breast pocket of her shirt and stared. “Good heavens! Can it be? Is that June Kelly?”
“It is,” Conley said.
“She looks … different. Smaller.”
“She’s suffering from dementia,” Conley said quietly. “That’s her son, Sean. He runs the pharmacy now, and Miss June has been talking about you lately. We thought—well, I thought it was such a nice day…”
Before she’d finished the sentence, Toddie was striding toward the car, arms outstretched. “June Kelly!” she called. “Come here and let me give you a big old hug!”
“Toddie?” June said. She looked at her son. “Is that really Toddie? She looks old!”
“Mama!” Skelly said.
“She’s right. I do look old. I am old.” Toddie enveloped the smaller woman. “Oh, June, my old friend. How I’ve missed you.” She left an arm slung around June. “And Sean! The last time I laid eyes on you was when you were crying to get away from one of my mules.”
Skelly grinned. “I’ve been trying to live that down for more than thirty years. And I’m still not crazy about an animal that could kick you in the head and kill you.”
“Seanny works at the store now, Toddie,” June said proudly. “He’s a big help to me.”
“I’m sure he is,” Toddie said. She looked past the Kellys at Conley, who was hanging back, not wanting to interrupt the reunion.
“Is this your wife, Sean?”
“Uh, no, Mrs. Robinette, er, Toddie. That’s Sarah Conley Hawkins. Her family lives two doors down from Mama’s house. Maybe you remember them?”
“Lord, I’ve been living out here in the country, away from civilized society in Silver Bay, for so long you’ll have to remind me of their names,” Toddie said.
“Why, Sarah is Lorraine’s granddaughter,” June said. “Lorraine Conley. You know, them; Lorraine and Woodrow, they run the newspaper.”
“Of course,” Toddie said, nodding. “That would make you Melinda and Chet’s daughter, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Conley said, feeling suddenly awkward.
“I hope your parents are well,” Toddie said. “It’s been a long, long time.”
“Melinda ran off some time ago, and we don’t know where she is,” June volunteered. “And Sarah’s daddy’s dead. Like my Patrick. Did you know my Patrick died, Toddie?”
“I didn’t know that.” Toddie nodded gravely at Conley, with just a hint of a twinkle in her cornflower-blue eyes. “But my condolences to both of you.”
Skelly’s face blushed crimson as he glanced from Toddie to Conley. “Sorry, y’all. Mom’s, uh, sort of unfiltered these days.”
June pointed a bony finger at Toddie. “Whatever happened to that sorry husband of yours, Toddie?”
“Why, he ran off with a younger gal who didn’t sass him half as much as I did,” Toddie said good-naturedly. “That’s when I said good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Oh my God, Mama!” Skelly pulled her by the hand. “I think maybe we need to be getting you home for a rest.” He turned to Toddie. “I don’t know what to say, Toddie. I’m mortified. Truly.”
“Don’t give it another thought, Sean,” Toddie said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I feel badly that I’ve let so much time go by without connecting with people from my old life. It’s just that we stay so busy out here at the farm, I lose track of time.”
“It’s just as beautiful here as I remembered from when I was a kid,” Skelly said.
“Thank you. My son, Hank, works here right beside me, and of course, Rebecca lives on the property now too since her divorce, in what we call the little house. Her girls are teenagers now, if you can believe it. How about you, Sean? Do you have kids?”
“No, ma’am,” Skelly said. “Divorced too, unfortunately.”
Skelly nodded at Conley and then, pointedly, in the direction of the car. “We’d best be getting her home now. Mom loves getting out and seeing people, but when she gets overtired, I never know what’s going to come out of her mouth.”
“My granny was like that when she got dementia,” Toddie said. “She once told our pastor he oughta pass around the collection plate and buy a new set of teeth for himself and a larger size dress for his wife.”
“Ouch.”
“It was good seeing you again, Sean, and June, of course. Any special reason why y’all came all the way out here today?”
“I’m gonna get Mama settled in the car,” Skelly said. “Here, Conley. I’ll take Opie and put him back there with her.” He put the wriggling terrier under his arm and led his mother back to the Subaru.
“He’s embarrassed,” Conley told Toddie once he was out of earshot. “I’m afraid I should admit to you that I dragged them out here today under false pretenses.”
Toddie cocked her head. “Oh? How’s that?”
“Well, I’m currently working at the Beacon. Temporarily. And the thing is, I’m working on a story about your ex-husband. About his death, I mean.”
Toddie’s smile faded.
Conley rushed on. “I’m sorry for your loss. It must have been a terrible shock for your family.”
“My family?” Her voice grew frosty. “If you’re looking for a story about my ex-husband, you’d best contact his wife. Symmes and I parted ways more than thirty years ago.”
“Vanessa—I mean, Mrs. Robinette—submitted an obituary for the Beacon, and the thing is, it only lists her and her son as the congressman’s survivors. There’s no mention of you, which I guess isn’t unheard of, or the children you had with the congressman.”
Toddie’s lips clamped tightly. “That’s not surprising,” she said finally. She looked away and then back at the Subaru. “I’m sorry you made the trip here for nothing, Sarah.”
“I was wondering,” Conley said, rushing now. “It’s just that in my research, I saw that the congressman deeded this farm over to you only a week before his accident. And I found that unusual—”
“I don’t have anything else to say to you about this matter. Thank you for bringing June to see me today. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got dogs to train and a farm to run.”
“That was incredibly awkward,” Conley said as they drove away from the farmhouse.
“What did she say?” Skelly asked.
“Basically, she said, ‘Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?’” Conley turned in her seat and saw that Miss June was already dozing, with Opie draped contentedly across her lap.
“The good news is that Toddie’s been out of touch for so long, she probably doesn’t have your grandmother’s phone number,” Skelly pointed out.
“I guess I need to apologize to you again,” Conley said, sighing.
“Not to me,” he said.
She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes for a moment, but sat up straight after she remembered a question that had been bothering her since that morning. “Skelly, do you know what’s going on between Grayson and Tony?”
He kept his eyes on the road and was slow to answer.
“What do you mean?”
“Whenever somebody answers a question with a question, I start thinking they have something to hide,” Conley said. “I mean, my sister has been sleeping in the office. Basically living there. Are they separated? Did she run Tony off?”
“Ask her,” Skelly said.
She rolled her eyes. “You know Grayson. She’s so … uptight. Tight-lipped. And we’ve never really talked about family stuff.”
“Not at all? Like, well, like about your mom?”
“Nope.”
“Do you ever open up to her about what’s going on in your life? Does she know you broke up with your live-in boyfriend before you came back home?”
“Whose side are you on here?”
“I don’t take sides. I’m neutral,” he said.
“That’s bullshit,” she said under her breath.
A few more miles of pastures and farmland rolled past before he spoke up again.
“Before Danielle left, this last time, when we were still trying to save our marriage, we went to counseling. And the therapist—who was a guy, by the way—said something that clicked with me,” Skelly said.
“I can’t wait to hear it.”
Skelly ignored her sarcasm. “He said that seventy-five percent of the issues people have in their relationships—the reason they end up in therapy—is because they just assume things. They assume their partner knows what they want in life. They assume they both share the same values and goals. But you can’t do that. You can’t expect even the person who’s closest to you to know what you’re thinking unless you open up and talk about it in an honest and open way.”
“And did that help?” Conley turned in her seat to face him. “With you and Danielle?”
“Obviously, it wasn’t enough to save our marriage. Once we did start talking, it turns out that I assumed she wanted to stay married to me and live in Silver Bay, maybe even start having kids together. But Danielle didn’t. She assumed I knew she felt trapped—in our marriage, in the situation with my mom, running the family business, all of it.”
“So opening up to each other didn’t really help,” Conley said.
“In a funny way, it did. Not with the marriage, but it helped me clarify things. What I wanted, for instance, and what was important to me. I realized that even if I did what she wanted, things wouldn’t really change between us.” He gave her a sideways glance. “If you tried to really talk to Grayson, you might be surprised at what she has to say. Running that paper and looking out for your grandmother … I know from my own experience that things can get overwhelming.”
“My sister doesn’t want to talk to me,” Conley said. “She thinks I’m an entitled brat because I got to go off and have the career I wanted, while she stayed home to save the Beacon. You don’t really know my sister, Skelly. She enjoys being a martyr. She should have been a Catholic instead of a Presbyterian. Saint Grayson. Our Lady of Perpetual Sacrifice. That’s my big sister.”
“Isn’t that kind of harsh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “If her marriage is in trouble, if she and Tony split up, she’s probably feeling pretty damn lonely. And vulnerable.”
“Grayson Hawkins? Vulnerable?” Conley said with a hoot. “Get real.”