Monica looked around the kitchen. “You baked more than one dessert?” she asked incredulously.
Emily glanced at the brownies and the raspberry torte with a little guilt. “I couldn’t decide.”
“They’re all good—everyone says so. You could sell them.”
Emily blinked at Monica, then around her kitchen, still orderly in the middle of a baking explosion. Sell her desserts? “You mean . . . to a bakery?”
Monica met her gaze in surprise. “Well . . . you could sell them yourself.”
“My own bakery?” she asked in disbelief. “I don’t know anything about running a business.”
“Why can’t you learn?”
“You don’t understand—my mom’s business took up most of her time, and so I stayed as far away from it as I could.”
“I thought you said men took up the rest of her time.”
“Well . . . they did.”
“Would you make that mistake?”
“Of course not! But this isn’t about my mom. Do you have any idea how much real estate costs in San Francisco? I couldn’t just . . . open a business.”
Monica rested her chin on her fist and watched her with interest. “Who said anything about San Francisco? You own a building right here.”
“But . . . this isn’t my home,” Emily said, bewildered. “I’m not staying here. And I’ve got Berkeley in the fall.” But in that moment, she thought of making heart-shaped cakes and gooey Valentine’s Day treats. But that would mean changing every plan she had for herself, flitting to whatever new idea struck her fancy—and that seemed too much like her mom.
“Okay, forget about where you have a bakery,” Monica said. “Is it something that interests you?”
“I—I never thought about it. I just like to bake. I’m not a trained pastry chef. No one would buy anything from me!”
“Then maybe you should think about it first. Nothing else has occurred to you, right?”
“I’m going back to college to figure that out,” she said, feeling stubborn and uneasy. “Not culinary school.”
“And you like college,” Monica said dubiously.
“I’m older and wiser now. And smart, too—did I mention that? I know lots of people back home, a whole network of people who’ll help me make a decision.” But some friends hadn’t been so easy to reach the few times she’d called. Maybe they really were Greg’s friends instead of hers.
“Should I be sorry I brought this up?” Monica asked.
Emily shook off her panic. “No, no, of course not. But I’m not a chef, I’m not a businessperson. I don’t know what I am,” she finished, looking away.
She felt Monica touch her arm.
“It’s okay, Em,” she said softly. “There’s no rush.”
“No rush? I’m thirty years old!” she whispered fiercely. “Ever since—since Greg left me, my life has been turned upside down. I’ve really had to look at myself, and realize how poorly prepared I let myself be, all in the name of love and family.”
“Those aren’t bad motives, honey.”
“I wasn’t thinking about my future—I let Greg take care of me. And Nate,” she whispered. “It would be too easy to let him take care of me. I’m pathetic.”
Monica took her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Stop that! It’s not true. I’ve admired your determination from the first. You came to a strange town with very little money. You had a little help with your renovations, but you’ve done the majority of the work. Some people might crawl into a hole instead of look for a dad who’s a stranger to them—not you.”
Emily was surprised to feel tears slide down her cheeks.
“And as for Nate—he’s been your friend. Friends help each other. He helps everyone. Trust me, he doesn’t need to do that for sex.”
Emily found herself choking on a laugh. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I don’t know, but it made you laugh.”
And then Monica hugged her, and Emily hugged her back, her eyes still dripping tears.
Early Sunday afternoon, Nate went to the ranch office and sat down at the computer. There was still so much left to do before the rodeo. First, he went into the spreadsheet showing the livestock he’d ordered from the stock contractor—and found nothing.
He gaped at the computer. You couldn’t hold a rodeo without bulls and broncs to ride. Could he really have forgotten something so important? He never forgot anything!
He should go talk to his father, but he went to look for his brother instead, the brother he always confided in. Maybe between them they could fix this if it wasn’t too late. Nate stormed out of the office, checked in