comparing their two reflections in the mirror. Their height, blond hair, blue eyes. Kitty didn't mind getting any of those attributes from her mother. As a matter of fact, when she was eighteen, she'd actually lost her resentment toward Samantha altogether. A teenage Hot Water resident herself, Kitty had understood how stifled, not to mention stigmatized - though Wilders were used to that - unwed mother Samantha would have felt if she'd stayed.
More, since Kitty herself didn't specifically recall insisting on using protection on her wedding night with Dylan, she'd realized she couldn't cast judgment on an unplanned pregnancy either.
No, after that night with Dylan, the abandonment hadn't bothered Kitty anymore.
The door to Locks, Stocks, and Barrels suddenly swung open. Kitty and everyone else glanced the newcomer's way. The room hushed, going so quiet that Kitty swore even the hair dryers held their hot breath.
Pearl stalked into the shop, the ties of her apron - its front embroidery declaring "Eat at Pearl's Cafe or Die" - fluttering behind her. If she noticed anyone but the woman she was after, she gave no sign.
"Samantha Wilder," Pearl snarled.
No, Kitty thought as another rush of nausea poured into her stomach, Samantha's having left town didn't bother her.
What bothered Kitty was that Samantha had come back.
"Samantha Wilder," Pearl snarled again. Her angry strides ate up the floor between the door and the manicurist's table. "What have you done with my husband?"
Another woman might have felt vulnerable in such a situation, with her fingernails freshly painted and her bare feet up to the ankles in water. Samantha looked like she felt nothing. Nothing at all. "I haven't done anything with him, Pearl"
Kitty closed her eyes. Off and on through her whole life, rumors had circulated about Samantha and where she was and what she was doing. Regardless of that, until six months ago Kitty had made it her mission to live down the "wild" Wilder brand. She'd vowed to stick it out in the town she loved and strive to make people view the Wilders differently.
"Kitty." A hand touched her shoulder and she opened her eyes to see Lisa standing beside her. "Go home," the hairdresser said.
In the mirror, Kitty watched Pearl angle close to Samantha's ear, her posture stiff and her face angry. Kitty swallowed. "Aunt Cat - "
"Right now she wants to stay for Samantha. We'll get her home when she's ready." Lisa half smiled. "Let me do this for you, okay? Don't forget that Spenser's my husband's grandfather. We owe you a few for bending backward to get him some extra cash by working in Old Town."
"But - "
"Go, Kitty," Lisa insisted, her gaze darting to the manicurist's table. "This isn't about you."
Kitty slipped out of the shop without another protest, though she knew Lisa was wrong. Once Samantha had returned to Hot Water, so had the rumors, with a vengeance. Professional escort, call girl, gangster's moll. People had started to look at Kitty out of the corners of their eyes too, forcing her to realize she'd made no progress at all. Why, she could live like a nun - she nearly had - and the people of Hot Water would still see what they wanted.
Kitty reached for her car keys. Just a few minutes before, she'd been considering herself the captain of her life. What a joke! Instead, like her mother before her, she was what the town saw her as - just another wild Wilder.
Lisa was definitely wrong. The truth was that anything to do with Samantha was all about Kitty too.
* * *
At Monday morning's first light, Dylan hopped on his bike, desperate for time away from Hot Water. Even after a mere two weekends playing sheriff, the free day felt like a reprieve from a prison sentence.
For hours he roamed through the Mother Lode, randomly following country roads that led through towns with names like Dewdrop, Confidence, and Moccasin. In front of him, heat shimmered off the black pavement like the sinuous, beckoning movements of ghostly fandango dancers. He followed them without thinking until suddenly realizing he was on a direct path toward home.
He eased off the throttle. It was only early afternoon. He couldn't go back so soon. Not when the engine's drone had yet to flat-line his restless thoughts.
Not when damn Kitty Wilder wouldn't leave him alone. Not awake, not asleep, not aboard the Harley.
From the instant she'd flounced out of the jail on that first Saturday afternoon, she'd taken up permanent residence in his mind.