The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,13

my eye. It was thick, bright white card stock with the Lynchfield city logo in the corner and Sophie’s name and title in the center—President, Convention & Visitors’ Bureau—and her contact information in the bottom corners. I turned the card over and stared at her cell phone number scribbled on the back above three words.

I miss you.

* * *

Emmadean and I cleaned the kitchen in silence, while Dormer went to the barn to take care of the chickens. We put most of the food in the freezer for reheating later and divvied up the rest between me and Emmadean and Dormer. Every inch of freezer space in the house was taken up.

“Why’re we doing this?” I asked. “I’ll just have to throw it out when I leave. If I stayed here a month, I wouldn’t put a dent in it.”

“You’re slurring your words,” Emmadean said.

“Am not.”

Emmadean was at the sink, washing dishes to return to the friends who’d brought food. “Why didn’t they use disposable stuff?” I asked. “I suppose I’m going to have to deliver all of these, along with everything else I have to do.”

“You sound a lot like Mary.”

“Now, that’s cruel.”

“If the shoe fits.”

I dropped down into a kitchen chair, my head spinning and a headache starting behind my eyes. “She sure didn’t let the door hit her on the way out. I bet they made it to Austin in record time.”

Emmadean washed and rinsed a deviled egg plate and put it in the drainer. She wiped her hands, folded the dish towel and joined me at the table. She lowered herself gingerly into a chair, and I realized how old Emmadean was. I assumed she was stout as an ox, but her grimace of pain said otherwise.

I reached out and grasped her hand. “You okay?”

She gave my hand a consoling pat. “Old bones. Don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t have hightailed it as soon as you could if the roles were reversed.”

“Why did he do it?”

“Well, to make amends, I imagine.”

“By giving me this dump? More like getting back at me.”

“No, Nora.”

“He had nearly two decades to make amends, Emmadean.”

“So did you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ray had his reasons.”

I stayed silent. There was no point in arguing with Emmadean. She’d defended her brother for all these years, and it wasn’t going to change now he was planted in the ground. I’d long since stopped feeling betrayed by it.

After Ray had kicked me out, I’d been able to get my reporting day moved up, so I only had to live with Emmadean and Dormer for a couple of weeks, which I’d spent locked in their guest room, avoiding the world. I kept expecting Ray to come over and apologize, but he never did. When it became apparent neither Ray nor I would talk, Emmadean’d given up asking what exactly happened between us and settled into her role as mediator, and eventually communicator. Emmadean kept me up on the town gossip, but I’d started tuning her out years earlier, and had finally asked her to stop giving me updates, especially on Sophie and Charlie.

Now their business cards were burning holes in my two front pockets. I knew Charlie was a lawyer, had taken over his father’s practice, and was running for State Senate, apparently, but I didn’t know anything about Sophie from the last ten years. Why did she say, You won when she looked like she had a pretty good life? If you were stuck in small-town Texas, President of the Convention & Visitors’ Bureau for a historic town like Lynchfield was about as good as it could get.

“How long has Sophie been at the CVB?”

“If you were on Facebook, you’d know.”

“Oh my God,” I said, slouching down and leaning my head against the back of the chair. She’d been on me for years to join up, but I had zero desire. I wasn’t interested in what my high school friends’ kids were doing.

Emmadean studied me for a while before answering. “Five years? I bet she hasn’t had a full night’s sleep since Logan was born. After Charlie graduated law school she went to school full-time but never missed one of Logan’s games, or recitals, practices. She volunteered with every organization she could. She’s a firecracker.”

“Superwoman.”

“Don’t you dare mock her,” Emmadean said.

“I’m not, it’s just...nothing like the life she said she wanted.”

“Who lives the life they wanted at eighteen? Are you?”

“No, Emmadean. It never occurred to me I’d be working for—” Luckily my drunk mind caught