through her. How in the world was she supposed to tell her grandma she wanted to live with Grace? What if the woman was really crushed and thought Sage didn’t love her enough to stay?
“I met up with Grace down at the diner for lunch,” Sage said as she sat back. “I’ve missed her so much. I can’t believe how long it’s been since the two of us have gotten to hang out. Did you know that Kelly Purly is going to have another baby?” Kelly had gone to school with Grace and Sage. It was strange to think that she was a mother now.
“Yes, it seems that everyone is having babies,” Bethel grumbled. “It sure would be nice if I got to be a great-grandma before the good Lord decides to pull me from this world.”
“Grandma, you look tired. Why don’t you go lie down?”
Bethel let the change of subject pass, much to her granddaughter’s relief. The last thing Sage wanted to do was have another discussion about eligible men and to field questions about whether she was ever going to have a family. She was only twenty-six, not on the verge of retirement.
“You’re right, dear. A nap would do wonders for this old body,” Bethel said, then she took her time leaving the room.
Sage watched her go with a worried frown. She needed to discuss her plans with her grandma, but she didn’t have the energy for it right now. Or that’s what she told herself. In reality, she was just too chicken. Maybe over dinner . . .
Suddenly, the afternoon caught up to her, and she felt completely drained, so she decided to lie down for a few minutes. Famous last words—sleep claimed her instantly.
“TIME TO GET up, sweetheart,” her grandmother said, shaking her awake. “We have a party to go to.”
“What? What party?”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot to mention that Martin Whitman is having a giant gathering at his place this evening. We can’t miss it.” Bethel was the picture of excitement.
“Are you up for it, Grandma?”
“Listen, girlie, I was dancing long into the night when you were still in diapers, so don’t try mothering me. I feel just fine and I deserve to go to this party.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma, but I’m a little tired.” So tired, in fact, that she didn’t notice that her grandma sounded awfully hearty for someone supposedly under the weather. “Would you mind going with Eileen so I can stay home and rest?” She really didn’t want to go to the Whitman Ranch, not now that she knew Spence was in town. He was sure to be there.
Just the name Whitman had her on edge again. But that was ridiculous. If Spence was going to be in town often, she’d have to get over it. Besides, her reaction was so over the top. Maybe if she’d taken Grace’s advice and had a few solid flings while away at college—no time in med school!—she wouldn’t be harboring these feelings for her childhood obsession.
“I suppose I could go with Eileen, but her eyes aren’t so good these days. We were kind of hoping you would drive us, but I understand if you aren’t up for it.”
Sage couldn’t stand to disappoint her grandma—plus she really didn’t want the two women to be out driving the winding country roads, especially after dark.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. I’ll just take a quick shower and drink a strong cup of coffee, and then I’ll feel much better. I’ll take you.”
Sage climbed out of bed, kissed her grandma on the cheek, and rushed into the bathroom. When Spence hadn’t even known who she was last week, her childhood embarrassment had been renewed. She’d compared all men to him through the years, and he hadn’t even thought of her once. How mortifying was that? To be around him now just wasn’t something she could handle. It was best to move forward with her life, focus on who and what she wanted to be, and let go of her childhood crush.
Easier said than done.
After showering and dressing quickly, Sage put on mascara and lip gloss. She couldn’t decide what to do with her long red hair, so she threw it up in a ponytail and called it good, if boring. She looked at herself in the mirror with a tentative smile.
There had been men who’d told her she was beautiful, but she always had a hard time believing it. She was considered short at only five foot four—that was average height, dammit!—and even