“Nothing happened.”
“Something happened. Look at you. You’re wearing one of my scrunchies in your hair. If you’re preoccupied enough to wear a scrunchie, the apocalypse truly is nigh.”
She put a hand to the back of her head. “Am I that predictable?”
“It’s only because I love you.” Sorrow stepped closer, giving her a bolstering smile. “Now tell old Doc Sorrow what’s up.”
“I guess I am a little out of it.”
“A little? I haven’t seen you this sweaty since Chip Merriweather asked that Sandra girl to the prom instead of you.”
“That Sandra girl was a—”
Sorrow put up a hand, cutting her off. “That Sandra girl had her own problems—and there but for the grace of God go I, as the Kidd ladies would say.” She added mischievously, “You know you were always cuter, anyway.”
She smirked—her sister was good medicine.
Sorrow took her arm and steered her toward the door. “Now you need to take a breather. Come in, hang out with me a while. I’ll make you a coffee.”
“A real one?”
“The coffee we brew is real, dummy. But yes, I’ll make you one of your fancy-shmancy French press coffees.”
“Okay, okay,” Laura said, sounding more resigned than she felt. A coffee would be good, and some talk, too. This thing with Eddie and the hotel was feeling big, and it was time to confide in her family about it. “We need to talk, anyway. I’ve got news.”
She’d been putting off telling them about the construction project, hoping she could deal with it herself. Though they’d probably already gotten wind of it—after all, their tavern was ground zero for Sierra Falls gossip. But she was sure they had yet to understand the full extent.
She sat on the kitchen counter, sipping her French press coffee, watching her kid sister work. She’d just finished telling Sorrow the full story, and the girl looked thoughtful as she was systematically chopping veggies and sweeping them into a big soup pot…chopping and sweeping, chopping and sweeping.
“You look so Zen,” Laura told her, “doing what you do. I’m jealous.”
“You mean because I’m good at chopping onions? Believe me, more than once I’ve regretted how my therapy is cooking and eating.” She put down her knife. “You want jealous? If I could’ve gotten your genes instead, using running to get my mind off things”—she patted at her waist—“then maybe I wouldn’t have these.”
Laura had always envied how content her sister seemed with her body. To hear this now was a surprise. “What do you mean…these?”
“You know, love handles.”
“Doesn’t seem like your sheriff has a single problem with your love handles.”
Sorrow blushed as a knowing and secret pleasure flashed in her eyes. “I guess you’re right.”
Laura felt a flicker of envy and put down her mug with a sharp clack. “Okay, back to business. What are we going to do?”
“About?”
“What do you mean, about? Get your mind off your fiancé. We were talking about what we’re going to do about that, that…Eternal Rest Hotel and Spa.”
Sorrow laughed. “Oh, Laura. Is it that bad? Maybe Eddie’s right. Maybe a fancy spa could bring in more business for us.”
“Thanks for the support, but yes, it is so bad.” Her throat clenched a little as she said it.
Sorrow paused to look—really look—at her. “You’re really upset. All right. I hear you. Tell you what. I need to finish up here, and the lunch crowd will be here soon, but once it thins out there, we can talk, okay? Make a plan.” She grabbed another handful of veggies from the fridge and began to wash them. “When times get rough, I recommend soup. Go take a hot shower. This’ll be done in an hour. You’ll think better with a full stomach.”
She looked longingly at the pot. “You know I can’t.” When things felt out of control like they did now, she always liked to be extra careful of her diet.
“Give it a rest, Laura. You can. Soup and salad can’t be more than, what, five hundred calories, max.”
Bear burst into the kitchen, the door swinging on its hinges. “What’s keeping you girls?”