Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,101
loss of his potato feast. “Oh, there’s more where that came from you little chubster,” she says.
Grandpa puts his hands together and says his trademark top-speed prayer. We all say “Amen” at the same time, and then everyone reaches for a dish to pass.
We’re elbow to elbow tonight as everyone digs in. Chastity is seated at the other end of the table from me, wearing a fuzzy sweater and a stricken face. I’m a little worried, honestly. Exams must have been harder on her than I thought.
I can’t wait to talk to her. There are so many things I need to say. But not in this room. Who could get a word in, anyway? Everybody’s talking at once. And Rickie looks as happy as I’ve ever seen him.
“Coming here tonight was a good decision. Mrs. Shipley and Mrs. Shipley, everything is wonderful.”
“You can come back so long as you don’t call me Mrs. Shipley,” my mother argues. “I’m Ruth and she’s Audrey.”
“He’s not usually polite at all,” I tease. “You should just roll with it.”
“Dylan, don’t malign the friends who bring wine and give your mother snarky dishtowels.” Mom passes the potatoes to her left. “You can bring Rickie home anytime.”
Rickie gives me a smug look. “I’m beginning to see how you became the nice guy that you are. Honestly, it explains a lot.”
The meal goes on and on. I spend much of it trying to catch Chastity’s eye, with no luck.
Audrey brings around a tray of crackers—not the kind you eat, but those British party favors that snap loudly when you pull them apart. There’s a tissue-paper crown inside, so of course we all put them on.
I give Chastity a grin down the table, and she barely musters a tight smile.
“What’s up with her?” Rickie whispers.
“No idea. I guess she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s slumming it with me.”
Rickie snorts. “Challenge. You’re her favorite person in the whole entire world. She’s keeping it on the down-low so she’ll feel less awful when it ends.”
Ouch.
“Who’s ready for dessert?” my grandfather barks from the head of the table. He pushes back his chair. “I’ll put the coffee on.”
“I already did it, Grandpa,” Daphne says. “You can just sit there looking handsome.”
“You are my favorite grandchild,” Grandpa says. “Somebody bring this girl a slice of pie.”
“Dessert is served buffet style,” Audrey says, pointing at the sideboard. “Give me two minutes, and you can both be first in line.”
Chastity actually avoids me by staying in her seat until I’ve made my way past all the desserts. I’m a little peeved by this. But I can drown my sorrows in a slice of pumpkin bourbon pie, and a piece of bouche du noël cake.
I’m feeling fat and happy enough when Leah quiets the table by saying she has an announcement to make. She’s found a donor who can make her foundation a reality. “Our plans are going forward in a big way, and since all of you have been such dear friends and neighbors all these years, I need to tell you what that means.”
Half listening, I scrape frosting off my empty plate until I hear her say: “We’re all relocating to Laramie in the fall.”
Relocating to Laramie. Laramie…Wyoming?
My head snaps up and I meet Chastity’s hollow eyes. And they tell me everything I need to know.
Holy shit. She’s moving? That makes no sense.
“You’re leaving?” May gasps. “Don’t do that.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision,” Leah admits, her eyes shining. “But this is important to me. And there are other benefits. Chastity can take classes at the University of Wyoming, at a pace that feels more comfortable for her. And, of course, I’m going to need her help.”
I’m just trying to take this in when my evil twin chirps, “But who’s going to tutor her in…algebra?”
“That’s what Skype is for,” my brother says, causing Rickie to choke on his wine.
“But that won’t be as satisfying,” Daphne says with a completely straight face.
And I want to murder her. Or anybody, really. I’m suddenly so angry. I push my chair back from the table and carry my plate into the kitchen, flinging on the tap and rinsing it under the spray.
I don’t know how long I stand there in front of the sink, just seething. Chastity hates Wyoming. Hates it. Why would she agree to go there? Was she even going to tell me?
“Hey,” someone says, and I whirl around. It’s only Rickie, holding out his plate. “You okay?”