“And look where me cracking the whip got you—a graduate assistantship at UWYO as you’re working on your Master’s.” Rielle stood in front of Rory and tucked a strand of her wild blonde hair behind her ear, like she’d done a hundred times. She still experienced that same overwhelming burst of love as she had the first time she’d cradled the squalling baby in her arms twenty-four years ago. “I’m so damn proud of you, Rory.”
“I know you are, Mom.” Rory hugged her. “But stop this mushy stuff or we’ll both start crying. There’ll be plenty of tears when I leave.”
“Don’t remind me.” She clutched her a little tighter. At six foot one, Rory towered over her by eight inches—making her daughter a supersized version of her instead of a mini-me. Rory’s green eyes—identical to her own—contained a devilish twinkle. “What?”
“Let’s get this shit done because I have a surprise for you later. And no groaning ’cause it’s gonna be awesomely fun.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
They cleared out both the bigger bedrooms upstairs. Rielle opted to leave the existing furniture in the great room downstairs. If Gavin wanted to replace it with his furniture, fine, but somehow she doubted his home furnishings from Arizona would mesh with the western décor.
She propped her shoulder against the doorjamb, letting her gaze wander. She’d spent months decorating this main room, scouring auctions, secondhand stores and yard sales for funky western pieces. Using a little imagination and a lot of elbow grease, she’d repurposed everything—from rusty tractor parts and old wooden household implements to rodeo memorabilia.
The room reflected her personality and life philosophy: quirky, bohemian, old items interspersed with new. Some pieces were high-end, some were low-rent. Vibrant colors and random fabric patterns and textures. Organic mixed with luxurious. Her heart told her to clear this space because everything in it was personal, but her practical side warned that Gavin might see an empty room as a hostile move.
But dammit, she did feel like her house was being invaded.
Rory poked her head out the swinging door separating the kitchen from the great room. “Your martini is ready.”
Entering the kitchen reinforced Rielle’s melancholy mood; the house teemed with life with Rory in residence. Music drifted from her iPod speakers and she danced around the island, singing to country tunes.
Plates of appetizers were arranged across the eat-in service bar. Rory shook the cocktail shaker vigorously and filled martini glasses with pale yellow liquid.
Rielle squinted at the three glasses. “You expecting someone else?”
“Yep. And there she is, right on time.”
“Who?”
The door swung open and Ainsley Hamilton meandered in. She ditched her high heels first thing. “I hope you made those drinks strong, Rory, because I’ve had a bitch of a day.” Ainsley grinned at Rielle. “Heya, neighbor. You ready for this?”
“Ready for what?”
Rory mimed zipping her lips. Then she said brightly, “Belly up to the bar, ladies, and sample my latest concoction. A lemon-drop martini with an Asian twist.”
“Sounds heavenly,” Ainsley said. “What’s the twist?”
“Candied ginger and lemongrass.”
Rielle slid onto the barstool. Even if the cocktail tasted like crap, she’d get an A for presentation. Sugar-rimmed glasses, a slice of lemon, pieces of lemongrass twined around a cocktail pick weighted at the bottom with a chunk of amber-colored candied ginger.
Ainsley raised her glass. “To the support of good friends.”
They clinked glasses and knocked back a swallow.
“Wow, Rory, this has got to be your best drink ever,” Rielle said, sucking down another taste.
“Thank you, but I can’t take full credit. I tweaked the recipe from a guy who bartends at the hipster joint in Laramie.”
“It’s fantastic. Damn potent, so I’ll only have one.” Ainsley tipped back another swallow. “Unless you’re driving us into town?”
Rielle frowned. “Who’s going into town?”
“We all are. See, Rory and I got to chatting…about our discussion at your fortieth birthday party last week.”
“I cannot be held responsible for anything I said since you all got me drunk.” Her head had pounded so horrifically the next morning she’d literally taken a dirt nap in her garden.
“This spilled out when you were sober, darlin’,” Ainsley reminded her.
“You sound more like Ben every day with darlin’ this and darlin’ that,” Rielle retorted.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She preened. “But it is what my loving—but clueless—husband said that caused your distress, so I feel the need to fix it.”
Rielle drained her drink, hating the reminder of Ben’s comment when he’d jokingly guessed her age as fifty, not forty. “You’re not responsible for the dumb shit Ben says any more than you are responsible for the dumb shit all men say.”
Rory refilled Rielle’s glass and sent Ainsley an insolent look. “I knew you’d take the wrong tack.” She set her elbows on the counter. “Mom. You’re not old. And we’re gonna deal with your claim that you look like a crone, because it’s a seriously f**ked-up self-image.”
Her cheeks heated, but her tongue sharpened. “So where is your other cohort in crime, Doc Monroe? Has she set up an appointment with a plastic surgeon as her part of this embarrassing intervention?”
“Joely planned to be here but she had to deliver a baby.” Ainsley got right in Rielle’s face. “Dial down the animosity, sister, and listen up.”
“You still wearing your large-and-in-charge big-girl panties, Miz Bank Prez?”
“At least until I get home and Bennett makes me strip them off.” She grinned cheekily. “And here’s the mushy, gushy stuff that makes you squirm…unless you’ve been knocking back tequila shooters. You’ve become one of my best friends since I moved in with Ben. You’re a wonderful person, funny, sweet, thoughtful and you work harder than anyone I know. You’re beautiful inside and out. I see it. Rory sees it. It’s a pity you don’t. We thought maybe if we helped you change your outer appearance, then you’d see it as well as feel it.”
Rielle remained quiet and traced the sugared rim of her martini glass. Upbeat Ainsley didn’t pull any punches—and to think that was why she hadn’t initially liked the woman. They’d started out on the wrong foot when Ainsley had been sneaking around with Ben McKay. But after Ainsley stood up for Ben and bitch-slapped her for the shitty way she’d treated him, Rielle realized she’d wronged them both.