“That doesn’t explain James’s decision to leave so suddenly, after coming all the way here and not really accomplishing anything,” Katherine said with a frown. “And he looked a little wild-eyed, don’t you think?”
Libby lifted a brow. “Are you implying Michael scared him off?” She laughed. “That’s ridiculous. He’d never do something like that.” She hooked her arm through her mother’
s and walked them back into the house. “James probably realized how foolish he was being. Now that he’s seen I haven’t suddenly grown a set of horns or a tail, he’s anxious to get home and claim that grant money before I change my mind and go back.”
Katherine stopped them just inside the kitchen door and took Libby by both hands. “Do you really think he’ll drop it?” she whispered.
“He has to,” Libby assured her, reversing their grip and squeezing Katherine’s hands.
“Like you said, he can’t prove anything. And he’s beginning to realize he’d only make a fool of himself if he pursues this.”
Katherine smiled with relief. “Of course, you’re right.”
Libby looked around the kitchen, then back at her mother. “So, what do we do for the rest of the day, now that we got rid of James?”
“You take me to town to buy an orange jacket so I don’t get shot. And a hat. I want an Elmer Fudd hat.”
“Katherine Hart.” Libby gasped, giving her mother a wide-eyed stare. “I’m going to take your picture and send it to your garden club.”
“No, we’ll make a Christmas card with the two of us dressed in orange and holding rifles, looking as if we’re about to shoot something. Do you suppose Ian will lend us a couple of guns?”
“So it’s Ian now? What happened to Mr. MacKeage?”
Katherine turned and reached for her coat and purse. “I woke up this morning deciding you’re right. He’s all bluster, under all that hair.”
Libby grabbed her own purse and headed into the garage. She went to the passenger side of her Suburban, took out the apple crate, and set it on the ground.
“I’ve really got to see about getting some running boards,” she said as she helped her mother climb into the truck. “This is getting annoying.”
She picked up the crate and carried it to her door, got in, and struggled to set the crate in the backseat without maiming both of them.
“Whatever possessed you to buy such a big truck?” Katherine asked, fastening her seat belt.
“I don’t think they have any small trucks around here. Everything in this place is big—
the landscape, the mountains, the men. Especially the logging trucks. And you should see Michael’s horse. Life is big here. I’m probably going to have a permanent crick in my neck.”
“Are you going to show me your studio?”
“Sure. You can help me fix it up. I have to decide what I need for displays.”
“Maybe you can hire whoever made your bed to make your displays. And we could cut some bare branches and hang your pendants off them. For Christmas, we can get some white felt and create a seasonal theme.”
Libby pulled onto the paved road and darted an amused look at her mother. “You’re really okay with this, aren’t you?”
Katherine smiled back. “Actually, I’m more than okay. I’m glad for you, Elizabeth. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this happy. You’re vibrant. Interested again.”
“Interested?”
“In life,” Katherine said succinctly, only to sigh and shake her head. “And I want to thank you for that.”
“Thank me?”
She turned in her seat to face Libby. “Yes. Thank you for having the courage to change your life, for opening my eyes to the truth, and for giving me the courage to do the same.”
Libby darted another look at her mother. “That wasn’t courage. That was pure, unadulterated fear. I ran, Mom, because I was scared.”
“You could have done any number of things besides run away,” Katherine said, waving her hand dismissively.
“You’re made of stern stuff, Elizabeth. And you’ve reminded me that I have the power of choice, too.”
“But what do… Mom, what are you talking about?”
Katherine studied her folded hands on her lap. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been truly happy.” She shot a worried look at Libby. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved your father. But he was so larger than life that he swallowed me up. I forgot who I was, where I came from, what used to be important to me. I became so busy being Barnaby Hart’s wife, I forgot to be Kate.”
She straightened her shoulders and looked out the window. “My daddy always called me Kate,” she whispered. “I’d forgotten that, too, until last night.”
“So, what are you saying?”
Katherine looked over and smiled. “I’m saying thank you for giving me the courage to be happy again. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here with you. I promise not to interfere in your life. Besides, I’ll be too busy getting back my own life. Do you suppose Pine Creek could use a florist shop?”
Libby was speechless. But very pleased. She’d weathered the storm that had blown in from California and found a beautiful rainbow at the end. Her mother wanted to stay.
Robbie would love that Gram Katie was staying.
Ian MacKeage likely would be pleased too.
But Michael would not. She’d just gotten a beautiful new bed—and a roommate who was also her mother.
They were all sitting in her living room, happily full from another high-calorie, high-cholesterol dinner. John had Guardian snuggled on his chest and was reading the paper. Kate was gently stroking Timid on her lap while she leafed through a crafts magazine. Robbie was in the kitchen, sprawled out on the floor, teasing Trouble with a feather tied to a string.
And Father Daar, thank their luck, had chosen to bless the MacKeages with his company tonight.
Michael was leaning back on the couch, his long legs stretched out so that his socked feet rested on the lower mantel of the hearth. His eyes were closed, his hands folded over his full belly, and he looked like a contented man recovering from a hard day’s work.
Libby was anything but contented. For one thing, her feet couldn’t reach the hearth, so she had to rest them on Michael’s legs. That was nice, but it wasn’t enough.
She wanted to rest her whole body on Michael.
Preferably her naked body. She wanted to try out her new bed.
It had been more than a week since James had left and her mother had announced she was staying. Nine long, sexually frustrating days.
Libby was afraid her hormones were going to explode.
She and Michael had managed to engage in some fairly heavy petting and had worked themselves into a frenzy once or twice, to the point where Libby had been on the verge of suggesting they take a quick ride to the nearest town that had a motel.
As it was, she had two of the condoms tucked in her purse, just in case John went visiting while Robbie was in school and Michael’s crew was busy up in the twelve-acre field.
So far, though, things hadn’t fallen into place.
“If ya keep fidgeting, lass, I’m gonna send ya out for more wood,” Michael threatened, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Mom, when are you planning to go back to California to close up your house and get things straightened away?” Libby asked.
Kate looked up from her magazine. “I thought I’d wait until after Thanksgiving.”
Michael opened his eyes and sat up, dropping Libby’s feet to the floor with his. “But that’s my busy season,” he said. “I was counting on your help in the shop. Ya told me you’d work.”
“Oh, I hadn’t realized things started that soon for you.”
“Thanksgiving’s still two weeks away,” Libby interjected.
“Maybe you should go now. It shouldn’t take you more than a week to get things in order. You’ll be back in plenty of time.”