Read Online Sunflower Lane by Jill Gregory - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jill Gregory
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talk. I’m getting the word out there, as people say. It’s not like I’m going on some online dating site and putting up a profile for him.”
Diana Hartigan jumped up from her chair. “Mom, let’s take our pie with us and get you home. This is your first day out since your accident. You need to rest. I think your concussion is speaking.”
“Nonsense. My concussion is gone. But I do want to stop by the Cuttin’ Loose and say hello to Martha, and everyone getting their hair done.” Ava allowed her daughter to help her to her feet as Sophie exchanged speaking glances withher mother and hurried to get them carryout boxes for their leftover pie.
“You girls have a nice afternoon, now—and don’t forget to spread the word,” Ava instructed anyone listening as Diana bit her lip, her shoulders tense as she tried to hustle her mother out of the bakery without jostling the arm in the cast.
The moment they were gone, Sophie sank down into a chair beside Annabelle. Her eyes were wide with dismay.
“I’m so sorry about that! She gets worse with age. I swear, Gran, Martha Davies, and Dorothy Winston think they’re everyone’s fairy godmothers. Now you know why I call them Bippity, Boppity, and Boo.”
The other patrons in the bakery had been listening in on the entire discussion, and a wave of chuckles ran through the room.
“Honestly, it’s no big deal.” Annabelle tried to ignore the flush she felt heating her cheeks, and hoped everyone else would do the same. “Your grandmother’s as cute as can be, Sophie.”
“She’s a handful! Please don’t ever tell Wes about this, okay? My brother might take off for parts unknown even sooner than he already plans to. We hardly ever see him as it is.”
“Lips sealed,” Annabelle murmured.
Sophie shot her a grateful smile and returned to the bakery counter as a noisy group of preteen girls crowded into the shop, followed by a couple of older kids in shorts and tees. All of the kids knew exactly what they wanted—the fresh-baked brownies and peanut butter cookies in the bakery case.
Darby and Marissa strolled over to the table, their faces alight with interest.
“So give us the scoop. How
is
Wes?” Darby asked Annabelle.
She’d been married to Stan Hadley, the assistant principalat the middle school, for the past three years, but she was obviously still curious to hear about her friend’s eighth-grade crush. After Annabelle replied that Wes seemed fine, though she hadn’t really spent any time with him, Marissa broke in.
“What I want to know is this—is he still in a relationship with that woman?”
Annabelle stared at her blankly. “What woman?”
“Last time he was in town—maybe three years ago—I ran into him at the Tumbleweed and he told me there was someone in his life, some woman he worked with. Cara something. It sounded semi-serious.”
Marissa was petite, with a fluff of short, toffee-colored hair. She was also divorced, supersmart, knew how to apply makeup perfectly, and worked as a stenographer at the courthouse.
“I . . . have no idea,” Annabelle said truthfully.
“No biggie.” Darby shrugged, moving off toward the bakery counter. “I’m sure we’ll find out all the deets before long. This is Lonesome Way, after all.”
Marissa lingered, her gaze thoughtful. “Was he wearing a wedding ring?”
“I don’t think so.” Annabelle felt like the most unobservant person on the planet. She hadn’t even looked at Wes’s hand to see whether he wore a ring. She’d been too caught up in that rugged, handsome face, that longish hair, that chest. . . .
“I’m sorry, Riss, I’m not exactly a fount of information, am I?”
“No problem.” The other woman’s lips curved upward in a confident smile. “By tomorrow or the next day we’ll likely know everything. Every girl we went to high school with who’s still single will be checking him out at the Double Cross and the Tumbleweed—you wait and see.”
The
Diana Hartigan jumped up from her chair. “Mom, let’s take our pie with us and get you home. This is your first day out since your accident. You need to rest. I think your concussion is speaking.”
“Nonsense. My concussion is gone. But I do want to stop by the Cuttin’ Loose and say hello to Martha, and everyone getting their hair done.” Ava allowed her daughter to help her to her feet as Sophie exchanged speaking glances withher mother and hurried to get them carryout boxes for their leftover pie.
“You girls have a nice afternoon, now—and don’t forget to spread the word,” Ava instructed anyone listening as Diana bit her lip, her shoulders tense as she tried to hustle her mother out of the bakery without jostling the arm in the cast.
The moment they were gone, Sophie sank down into a chair beside Annabelle. Her eyes were wide with dismay.
“I’m so sorry about that! She gets worse with age. I swear, Gran, Martha Davies, and Dorothy Winston think they’re everyone’s fairy godmothers. Now you know why I call them Bippity, Boppity, and Boo.”
The other patrons in the bakery had been listening in on the entire discussion, and a wave of chuckles ran through the room.
“Honestly, it’s no big deal.” Annabelle tried to ignore the flush she felt heating her cheeks, and hoped everyone else would do the same. “Your grandmother’s as cute as can be, Sophie.”
“She’s a handful! Please don’t ever tell Wes about this, okay? My brother might take off for parts unknown even sooner than he already plans to. We hardly ever see him as it is.”
“Lips sealed,” Annabelle murmured.
Sophie shot her a grateful smile and returned to the bakery counter as a noisy group of preteen girls crowded into the shop, followed by a couple of older kids in shorts and tees. All of the kids knew exactly what they wanted—the fresh-baked brownies and peanut butter cookies in the bakery case.
Darby and Marissa strolled over to the table, their faces alight with interest.
“So give us the scoop. How
is
Wes?” Darby asked Annabelle.
She’d been married to Stan Hadley, the assistant principalat the middle school, for the past three years, but she was obviously still curious to hear about her friend’s eighth-grade crush. After Annabelle replied that Wes seemed fine, though she hadn’t really spent any time with him, Marissa broke in.
“What I want to know is this—is he still in a relationship with that woman?”
Annabelle stared at her blankly. “What woman?”
“Last time he was in town—maybe three years ago—I ran into him at the Tumbleweed and he told me there was someone in his life, some woman he worked with. Cara something. It sounded semi-serious.”
Marissa was petite, with a fluff of short, toffee-colored hair. She was also divorced, supersmart, knew how to apply makeup perfectly, and worked as a stenographer at the courthouse.
“I . . . have no idea,” Annabelle said truthfully.
“No biggie.” Darby shrugged, moving off toward the bakery counter. “I’m sure we’ll find out all the deets before long. This is Lonesome Way, after all.”
Marissa lingered, her gaze thoughtful. “Was he wearing a wedding ring?”
“I don’t think so.” Annabelle felt like the most unobservant person on the planet. She hadn’t even looked at Wes’s hand to see whether he wore a ring. She’d been too caught up in that rugged, handsome face, that longish hair, that chest. . . .
“I’m sorry, Riss, I’m not exactly a fount of information, am I?”
“No problem.” The other woman’s lips curved upward in a confident smile. “By tomorrow or the next day we’ll likely know everything. Every girl we went to high school with who’s still single will be checking him out at the Double Cross and the Tumbleweed—you wait and see.”
The
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