“Do I look like a queen?” Nicole paraded in front of the long mirror in her grandma’s old sewing room. She had on Allie’s birthday present, which was a costume her mother had made from fabric remnants and bits of old-fashioned jewelry. There was a fancy red velvet cape with a pretend fur collar, and a tiara they’d concocted by gluing pieces of sparkling glass and colorful sequins to a plastic hair band.
Her Mom made a bow, extending an empty wrapping paper roll spray-painted a sparkling gold. “The royal scepter, Your Majesty.”
Nicole swirled the cape, then swooshed the scepter on top of her mom’s head. “Well done, handmaiden. I crown you, Sir Bateson.” She twirled in front of the mirror one more time. “Can a woman be a sir?”
“I believe lady is the right term. So do you think Allie will like the present?”
“Why not? I’d like it.”
Her mom looked happy. “Well, we can make you one if you want. But now you have to take Allie’s off and wrap it in the paper you decorated. Then put on your new dress and I’ll do your hair.”
“Okay.” Her mom had this really neat idea of cutting shapes out of potatoes, dipping them in ink, then stamping the shapes on a sheet of brown wrapping paper. They’d left the paper drying on the kitchen table. Now Nicole ran downstairs to get it.
She paused just before rounding the kitchen and steeled herself for the possibility that her grandfather might be in the room. Usually he worked on Saturday, just like any other day, but you never knew...
The couple of times Nicole had accidentally stumbled across her grandfather had only made her more nervous of him than before. He never talked to her; he didn’t even look at her.
Even on the few occasions her mom had actually spoken to him or asked a question, he just acted like she was invisible. Sometimes Nicole wondered what he would do if she tried to talk to him. Would he ignore her, too? So far she’d been too scared to try. Maybe one day...
The paper was dry, so Nicole put the cape, tiara and scepter into the large box her mother had found, then wrapped the paper around it, using tape to hold it in place. When she was done she glued the birthday card she’d made to the top of the package, then went upstairs to change.
This was the moment she’d been waiting for. Her mother had sewn her a new dress from a bolt of pretty blue cotton that they’d found in her grandma’s sewing supplies. What made the dress extra special was that her mom had had a dress cut out of the exact material when she was a little girl. They’d even found the same pattern.
Now Nicole swirled in front of the mirror again, this time in her new outfit. She felt beautiful, but as lovely as the new dress was, she knew Allie would be wearing something much nicer. That was just the way things were. Allie had the prettiest clothes of all the girls in their grade.
And Nicole had never met anyone with as many toys.
She wasn’t sure why this was so. Maybe because Allie's dad had finished high school and they had more money. She’d have to remember to ask her mom if that was it. But not until she’d passed her courses.
“Can you do my hair, Mom?”
“Sure. Come here.” Libby felt her heart lighten as Nicole entered her bedroom. The dress looked wonderful on her daughter, thank goodness styles for little girls weren’t as quickly outdated as those for older women.
If only there’d been time to sew something for herself to wear to the party, but she had enough to do, what with planting the garden, driving the bus, studying and taking care of the house. No one would notice what she was wearing, anyway. All the focus would be on the children, which was exactly how it should be.
Besides, she thought she looked just fine in her good pair of pants and white blouse. Her hair hung in a long French braid down her back, and she’d even applied some mascara and a little lipstick.
“I want my hair like yours, please.”
“Sure, sweetie. Pass me the brush.” She’d made a bow from some of the leftover fabric, and now she used that to fasten the end of Nicole’s braid.
“There. You look like a queen yourself. Go check it out in the mirror.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Nicole ran out the door to the sewing room. After a few seconds she called out, “It’s great! Are you ready to go? I don’t want to be late.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be on time. Take the present to the truck and I’ll be right there.” Libby turned back to the mirror, fussed with her hair a few more minutes, then went outside after her daughter. She was just walking around to the front of the house when she saw that the tractor was in the yard. Her father climbed down from the cab and started toward the house.
Libby froze in her footsteps, automatically glancing at Nicole, who was standing outside the truck, jumping from foot to foot impatiently. Nicole hadn’t yet noticed her grandfather, but he’d seen her. His footsteps slowed; his eyes were riveted on the seven-year-old.
“My God...it’s little Libby.” His voice was deep and low, but Libby heard the words clearly—the first he’d spoken since they’d moved in almost a month ago now. Libby felt her throat tighten; even the muscles along her jaw ached. It was the dress, she realized. And the hairstyle. Just the way her mother had done it for her when she was little.
“Grandpa?” Nicole had stilled the moment he’d spoken, and now she turned eyes filled with uncertainty toward her mother.
“Remember I said that I used to have a dress just like the one you’re wearing?” Libby tried to speak naturally, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “I guess your grandfather was reminded of...me.”
“Did you guys talk to each other in those days?”
Libby couldn’t find the words to answer that one. A huge lump had settled in the back of her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her father head for the barn. She let out her breath in a shaky sigh. For a moment she’d thought he was going to speak to her. That he was going to look her in the eye and acknowledge—silently, at least—that she was still his daughter. She should have known better. He was too stubborn for that, and a part of her hated him then, for shutting her out and closing off his feelings so utterly and completely.
But a part of her couldn’t hate him, because she remembered so clearly every detail of the bedroom he’d shared with her mother: the open book, the unmoved slippers, the unwashed pillowcase. And she couldn’t hate him, because she felt too sorry for him.
They arrived with a flurry of other guests. It seemed Allie had invited half her class, and since the party was so far from town, all the parents were encouraged to stay and join in the festivities. Libby felt a moment’s anxiety as she parked her father’s truck behind a string of vehicles. She hadn’t thought about having to mingle with her neighbors; now she was certain she’d feel awkward and out of place. But Nicole was bouncing on the seat beside her, so there was nothing to do but take a deep breath and go.
It was the third day of June, sunny and warm. A balloon arbor hung over the gate to the backyard, and a huge wooden sign saying Happy Birthday, Allie was propped up against the fence. Helium balloons were tied to many of the fence posts, providing a colorful frame for the patio table, which was adorned with tablecloth, napkins and paper plates all decorated with pretty pastel-colored ponies.
The real McCoy stood in the corral just beyond the party setup. Posh’s and Sporty’s manes had been braided with ribbons, and children were already forming lines for rides. Allie’s grandfather was in charge: he lifted the girls up into the saddle and led the more nervous riders around in a tight circle.
As Nicole rushed to join the queue, Libby glanced around. People were everywhere, all talking to someone, all busy doing something, except her. She eyed the gift in her hand and thought that she could look for someplace to put it. After that, she could find herself a drink. Then maybe she’d watch the children on the ponies for a while.
It seemed like a safe plan. But then she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Nice hair, Libby.”
She recognized his touch before she heard his voice. Turning slowly, she saw the sun shining off his golden hair, his blue eyes fixed on her.
“You’ve been busy.” She scanned the lavish decorations.
Gibson appeared sheepish. “Well, I’m finished seeding. I needed something to occupy my time. Allie’s out of her mind with excitement. She’s been waiting for Nicole to get here. See—they’re lined up together for a pony ride.”
Libby drew in her breath at the sight of Allie in a beautiful cotton chintz dress, her blond hair curled in a mass of perfect ringlets. “She looks like a doll, Gibson.”
“Doesn’t she? Mom did her hair.” He watched Allie for a few moments before he turned back to Libby. “But you need a drink, and I can take care of this.” He took the gift and gently guided her with a touch on her back toward the kitchen. Moira was doing bar duty, serving wine, soft drinks, beer and punch to the adult guests.
He looks gorgeous, Libby thought, shooting sideways glances at Gibson as they walked. His skin glowed with health; his body was muscular and strong beneath a pair of stiff black jeans and a crisp white shirt with black detailing. Rolled-up sleeves revealed the strong muscles of his forearm.
Suddenly the kiss they’d shared was all she could think about, and when he asked her what she’d like to drink, she found herself unable to tear her eyes from his lips, remembering how they’d felt brushing hers.
As if he could read her mind, he whispered, “You’ll have to stop looking at me like that Libby, or I’ll be forced to kiss you. Again.” He leaned in close to pass her a glass of punch. “And that’ll really get the neighbors talking.”
Nothing could have grounded her more quickly. She figured there was already enough gossip circulating about her in the close-knit community. No need to give people something else to talk about. While sipping her punch, she checked out the crowd. More mothers had brought their children than fathers, and on average they were probably five to ten years older than she. As she surveyed the faces she realized, with great amusement, that many of these women were former girlfriends of Chris’s.
“What’s so funny?” Gibson edged nearer.
Her host was eminently kissable, no doubt about it. “So let them talk,” she said softly. Saying the words felt like a dare. Right away she knew she was in trouble. Gibson never backed down from a challenge.
“All right, I will,” he said. Then his eyes began to close and she realized he was going to kiss her despite the fact that people—his neighbors and friends—were standing all around them. He was going to kiss her, and God help her, she was going to—
“Daddy! Daddy!”
Libby heard the words at the same moment as Allie pulled at Gibson’s arm.
“Everyone’s had a pony ride. Can we do the scavenger hunt now? Please, please, please?” With every please she pulled harder on her father’s wrist.
“Calm down, pumpkin. Of course we can.” Gibson gave Libby a rueful glance before allowing his daughter to tug him toward the group of children standing expectantly beside the patio table.
Libby watched him go, not sure whether to feel sorry or grateful.
“Gorgeous, isn’t he?”
A trim woman with short dark hair, wearing nicely fitted dark jeans and a beautifully embroidered denim shirt, stepped up beside her. She looked familiar, but Libby couldn’t remember her name.
“Tobey Stedman,” the woman said, eyeing her up and down. “I’m Ardis’s aunt.”
Libby spotted the little, dark-haired girl in the crowd. For once her long brown hair was not in braids but cascaded freely down her back, well past her bottom. “Yes. I know Ardis. She rides my bus.”
“And you’re Libby, of course. You look a lot like your brother.”
“So I’ve been told.” Libby gave a slight shrug. She remembered the woman now. Chris had brought her home for Sunday dinner once. Tobey had spent the entire meal pointing out the character flaws and beauty imperfections of the other girls around Chatsworth, and after Chris had taken her home, their father, who usually kept his opinions to himself, had said, “Do me a favor, Chris. Don’t invite that one back.” And amazingly, for once, Chris had complied with his father’s request.
Tobey’s eyes were back on Gibson, who was handing out lists to the girls.
“You can work in pairs,” he told them. “Once you’ve collected every item report back to me for your prize.”
Immediately Allie linked hands with Nicole, who was reading intently. “A handful of hay,” Nicole said. “We need to go to the barn.”
The two girls were about to run off, when Ardis came up beside Allie. “I want to be your partner.”
Allie shrugged. “I’m partners with Nicole.”
“But we were always partners before.” Ardis crossed her arms and fixed Nicole with a stare. “Before you had to move here.”
Libby was about to intervene, but she stopped herself when she realized Nicole had the situation under control.
“We could all three work together.” After a bit of haggling and negotiating they finally agreed, with Allie walking in the middle between Nicole and Ardis.
Libby refocused on Tobey. She was oblivious to the girls’ exchange; her attention was still on Gibson, who was now starting up the barbecue.
“I can’t imagine why we didn’t all go crazy over him when we were in school,” she said, more to herself than to Libby.
“Because we were too busy chasing after Chris.” Another woman came up from behind Tobey, and this one Libby recognized right away.
“Garnet!” Libby smiled at the redhead with the pretty face and animated expression. Chris had dated Garnet longer than any other girl she could remember, and her parents had both hoped that he would eventually settle down with her. But at about the same time that Gibson had married, Garnet had announced her engagement to a successful farmer several miles closer to town.
“Hi, Libby! Great to see you back in Chatsworth. I know Violet’s enjoying Nicole at school.” Garnet tugged at the bottom of her short, bright-purple skirt, which she was wearing with an equally vivid turquoise-and-pink top.
“Violet is your daughter?” Libby scanned the farmyard, looking for a likely candidate.
Garnet pointed to a red-haired girl directing another girl who was attempting to climb an old poplar tree by the barn. “There she is. Violet’s in grade three, but she usually hangs around with Allie and her friends.”
“You may have been interested in Chris,” Tobey said, ignoring the discussion about the young girls and returning to Garnet's opening line, “but I never was. At least not seriously.”
“Really?” Garnet pursed her lips, and when she looked at Libby, devilment flashed in her emerald-colored eyes. “Then it's a pity you missed out on Gibson, as well.”
“It’s not too late. Why do you think I volunteered to take my niece to this party? Not that Gibson seems at all interested. Do you know he hasn’t dated any women since his wife died?”
“Not true,” Garnet said. “He went out with a lawyer from Yorkton for a while.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard about that. Is he still seeing her?”
“No. I don’t think he’s seeing anyone right now. Unless...” She raised an eyebrow at Libby, a gesture that Tobey didn’t pick up on.
“He hasn’t been at any of the town dances, or even at the bar, in ages. Doesn’t he ever go out?”
“I haven’t seen him around lately, although Mick and I used to socialize with him and Rita quite regularly.” Garnet turned to Libby. “We curled together. I don't think Rita enjoyed the sport very much, but she loved the social activities that went with it. You know, the potluck dinners and the smokers—not that very many people smoke anymore, but somehow the name seems to stick.”
Libby wanted to hear more about Rita, but Tobey commandeered the conversation again. “So do you and Mick still curl?”
“Sure. We’ve partnered up with Darren and Christy.”
“Darren?” Libby couldn't stop herself from asking. “Darren O’Malley?”
“Yes. Do you remember him? He was a few years older than you, wasn't he? He married a good friend of mine from high school.”
“Do they live in Yorkton?” Libby prayed the other women couldn’t see how her heart was pounding. She held her drink down so they wouldn’t notice her trembling fingers.
“No, they stayed on Darren’s farm, just south of Sledgewood. I suppose you remember what an athlete Darren was.”
Libby nodded, feeling a bitter taste fill her mouth. She remembered, all right.
“Once they were married he kept bragging that he was going to raise his son to be the next Sydney Crosby. So what happens?”
“Four girls,” Tobey said, finally demonstrating a sense of humor. “Serves the guy right. Always was a little too cocky if you ask me.”
“Oh, he’s not that bad,” Garnet said, defending him. “And he adores those girls.”
Tobey shrugged, then turned to Libby. “So what brought you back to Chatsworth? I gather you and Owen have split?"
Libby had been dreading this question, or one much like it. But before she could come up with her prepared answer, Garnet came quickly to her rescue.
“And why shouldn’t she come back? It’s her home, isn't it? I’ll bet her father is delighted."
“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say delighted.”
Not to be put off, Tobey angled in for another question. “Did you and Owen get married after you ran off like that?"
“Tobey!" Garnet exclaimed, but her disapproval didn’t erase the expectant look on Tobey’s face as she waited for Libby’s answer.
“No. We never married." Libby was determined not to tell an outright lie if she didn’t have to.
“Excuse me, ladies."
With perfect timing, Gibson stepped between her and Garnet and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. His touch was casual, but there was something solid and reassuring about it that helped to work the tension out of her body.
Tobey’s attention shifted from Libby to Gibson, as Libby was certain he’d expected it to. He gave them all an apologetically charming smile, letting go of Libby’s shoulder to hold out his hand. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need help with the barbecue. Got a second, Tobey?"
“Of course I do." A pleased smile spread across her face as she held out her arm to him.
As they walked away Gibson turned back and gave Libby a quick wink, and she smiled in return, a private thank-you for a much-needed rescue. Except not that private, because Garnet witnessed the entire exchange. She apologized for the other woman.
“Don’t pay any attention to Tobey. You remember what she’s like.”
Libby sure did. Even though she’d hoped people would accept her and Nicole, no questions asked, she’d always known it would never be that simple. There was no concept of minding your own business in a small town, where folks felt their neighbors’ affairs were their legitimate concerns.
Eventually she would set the record straight where Owen was concerned. But she’d prefer to wait until she and Nicole were long gone to do it.
What really worried her was the possibility she would run into Darren one day. He’d always been so full of big plans and dreams, she’d been shocked to hear he’d married and settled only fifteen miles away in a town even smaller than Chatsworth.
It was only a question of time before their paths crossed. Which only underscored how important it was for her and Nicole to leave as scheduled in the fall.