The Liar

“Now, Shelby, you come back when this is all finished and we’ll have a nice long talk.” Bitsy fluttered around her. “I expect to see you in and out of here just like you used to be. You know you’re same as family here.”

“Thank you, Miz Bitsy. It was nice meeting you,” she said to Griff again, turned to go.

“I’ll walk you out.” Emma Kate shoved the market bags at her mother. “There’s cold cuts and made-up salads and plenty of ready-to-eat food. You don’t have to worry about cooking until your new stove’s in. I’ll be right back.”

Emma Kate said nothing on the way to the door. “Say hey to Granny,” she said as she opened it.

“I will.” Shelby stepped out, turned. Bitsy’s open welcome made Emma Kate’s reserve all the more painful. “I need you to forgive me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the best friend I’ve had in my life.”

“That was then. People change.” After shaking back her shaggy hair, Emma Kate stuck her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “Look, Shelby, you’ve had a hard knock, and I’m sincerely sorry about it, but—”

“You have to forgive me.” Pride demanded she walk away; love wouldn’t allow it. “I didn’t do right by our friendship. I didn’t do right by you, and I’m sorry. I’ll always be sorry. I need you to forgive me. I’m asking you to remember that friendship before I ruined it, and forgive me. At least enough to talk to me, to tell me what you’ve been doing and how you are. Just enough for that.”

Emma Kate studied her face, her dark eyes thoughtful. “Tell me one thing. Why didn’t you come back when my granddaddy died? He loved you. I needed you.”

“I wanted to. I couldn’t.”

With a slow shake of her head, Emma Kate stepped back. “No, that’s not enough for forgiveness. You tell me why you couldn’t do something you had to know was important, just sent flowers and a card like that was enough. Tell me the straight truth on that one thing.”

“He said no.” The shame of it washed over Shelby’s face, burned in her heart. “He said no, and I didn’t have the money or the nerve to go against him on it.”

“You always had nerve.”

Shelby remembered the girl who’d always had nerve like she remembered her cousin Vonnie. Vaguely.

“I guess I used it up. It’s taking all I’ve got left to stand here and ask you to forgive me.”

Emma Kate took a long breath. “You remember Bootlegger’s Bar and Grill?”

“Sure I do.”

“You meet me there tomorrow. Seven-thirty should work for me. We’ll talk some of this out.”

“I need to ask Mama if she can watch Callie.”

“Oh yeah.” The chill came back, cooler and damper than the drizzling rain. “That would be your daughter, the one I’ve never laid eyes on.”

That twisted—both shame and guilt. “I can keep saying I’m sorry, as many times as you need to hear it.”

“I’ll be there at seven-thirty. Come if you can make it.”

Emma Kate went back inside, then leaned back against the door and let herself cry just a little.

•   •   •

GRIFF SET THE LAST base cabinet in blessed peace since Emma Kate fell on her sword and took her mother shopping. He gave himself a break, swigging Gatorade straight from the bottle and eyeing the progress.

He didn’t doubt the champion waffler would love every square inch of the remodeled kitchen once it was done. And it would look clean and fresh—just like the redhead.

Something going on there, he mused, with Bitsy going on about how Emma Kate and Shelby had been friends practically in the womb, and Emma Kate standing there as stiff and cool as he’d ever seen her. And the redhead sad and awkward.

Girl fight, he supposed. He had a sister, so he knew girl fights could be long and bitter. He’d have to poke at Emma Kate. It was just a matter of finding the right spot, getting her to open up and spill.

He wanted to know.

And he wondered how long was a reasonable length of time before a guy asked a widow out.

He should probably be ashamed of himself for wondering, but he just couldn’t drum it up. He hadn’t had such a quick and strong reaction to a woman in . . . ever, he decided. And he liked women a lot.

He set the Gatorade down and decided since Matt was taking all damn day to fix a sink, he’d start on the upper cabinets. Plus it wouldn’t be just the sink, he thought, as he hauled his stepladder over. There’d be conversation. Nothing got done in Rendezvous Ridge without considerable conversation.

And iced tea. And questions, and long, lazy pauses.

He was getting used to it, found he enjoyed the slower pace, and definitely appreciated the small-town vibe.

He’d had a choice to make when Matt decided to move to Tennessee with Emma Kate. Stay or go. Find a new partner, run the business himself. Or take the leap and start over, more or less, in a new place with new people.

He didn’t regret taking the leap.

He heard the front door open. That took getting used to, the way people in the Ridge rarely locked a door.

“Did you have to make her a new sink?” Griff called out, then set the drill on the last screw of the first upper.

“Miss Vi found a few other things for me to do. Hey, you’re moving along. This looks great.”