and chicken wings, she gave a brief account to Monica—and then to several of the guys from the bar, who went back and told their friends.
“Surely everyone knows by now,” Brooke said with a groan. “But I can’t blame them. Every rancher worries all the time during the dry season that a windstorm will send a fire our way. Thank God it’s almost winter, or this could have been worse.”
Their waitress, Linda, a mom with school-age kids who often biked with Nate and his friends, looked Brooke over as she set a bottle of beer before each of them. “I won’t make you repeat the story, as I’m sure the guys’ll be talking about it at the bar. But I’m glad you’re okay.”
Brooke smiled. “Thanks, Linda. Believe me, I’m glad, too.”
“She had help,” Emily said. “Do you remember Adam Desantis?” she asked both Linda and Monica.
Linda blinked in surprise. “He was a few years behind me at school, but yeah, who could forget?”
Emily grinned. “Now that I’ve met him, I can see why he’s so memorable.”
Monica turned on Brooke with speculation. “He’s back from the Marines?”
“Visiting his grandma like a good boy,” Brooke said.
As she walked away, Linda called over her shoulder, “ ‘A good boy’ isn’t how I remember him.”
The three women laughed. Brooke watched as Linda started a conversation at one end of the bar, then each head turned, relaying the news of Adam’s return like falling dominoes.
“I remember him, too,” Monica said, leaning back in her chair with a little sigh.
“Of course she does,” Brooke said conspiratorially to Emily, even as she snatched the last nacho. “She dated him.”
Emily gasped and leaned toward Monica. “Really?”
Monica waved her hand delicately. “It only lasted a few weeks. He was a football player, and I was a cheerleader. It’s amazing how those stereotypes just keep happening, generation after generation.” When their laughter faded, she asked, “So has he changed?”
“Wait, wait, I need to know more about the actual dating,” Emily said.
“He was a good kisser,” Monica admitted, “but I wasn’t interested in going farther, not right away. So we broke up.”
“Told you he was a jerk,” Brooke said. “Poor Monica would call me for sympathy. We shared a lot of ice cream those few weeks.”
“He could be funny, too,” Monica pointed out.
“You’re defending a guy who broke up with you because you wouldn’t put out?” Brooke still felt defensive on her behalf.
“Oh, please, he was a hormonal kid. So has he changed?” Monica repeated patiently.
Brooke hesitated, trying to ignore how very curious Adam made her. “He seems kind of a quiet guy now. I never thought I’d say that about him.”
“He might have seen some bad things,” Emily said.
They all sobered. Brooke couldn’t help thinking how very young he’d been to go off to war. Just eighteen. She could only imagine how Mrs. Palmer must have felt, and he her only grandchild. Many men never came back. She’d known one of those, someone who’d gone to Colorado State with Nate. Though she’d only met him once or twice, it had been a blow to know he’d died such a terrible death. And the poor man’s family . . . She’d been so glad to hear that Valentine Valley had begun a program to help returning veterans. She didn’t know much about it, but she’d mention it to Mrs. Palmer when she got the chance. Of course, the widows probably knew all about it.
Thank God Mrs. Palmer hadn’t lost Adam. He was the only blood family she had left. Her older brother was dead, and she’d only had one daughter. But she liked to say that the widows were the sisters she’d never had. Brooke’s gaze traveled from Monica to Emily, and she realized she knew exactly what Mrs. Palmer meant. She didn’t know how she’d function without her girlfriends.
“At least Adam’s back, and he’s safe,” Monica said, breaking their somber moment of reflection.
Brooke smiled at Linda, who set down individual salads for each woman, and a huge plate of wings in the center of the table.
“I’ll be back with another round of drinks,” Linda called.
Monica wiggled her eyebrows at Brooke. “I’m sure Adam grew up to be fine-lookin’.”
Brooke and Emily glanced at each other, then broke into grins.
“Okay, yes, he’s fine-looking,” Brooke said, lifting both hands in a placating manner.
“More than fine-looking,” Emily breathed, leaning over the table and lowering her voice. “Downright sexy.”
Brooke cleared her throat pointedly, even as she felt overly warm at the thought.
“Well, of course, not