LITMIR.BIZ

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up the moonlight and glinting silver. Walter was still handsome, a big masculine man, but all she saw when she looked at him was ruin.

      “You’re going to have to help me a little,” she said, crouching beside him and flinging his arm over her shoulder.

      He grimaced. Sweat bloomed across his forehead but he didn’t groan. Nope, not Walter. Just like he’d sit here all damn night rather than scream for help.

      All that pride wasted when it came to drinking. It’s a shame.

      With a lot of effort she got him to his feet and when he shifted his body to go toward the living room she steered him instead to the mudroom.

      “What are you doing?”

      “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

      “I’m fine—”

      She shifted her weight away from him and he stumbled, catching himself on the counter that split the kitchen from the dining room. Tentatively he put his foot onto the floor and cursed when he couldn’t put any weight on his ankle.

      When he glanced at her she shrugged. “It’s sprained at least, and you’ve been sitting there for how long?”

      He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

      “Right, then, we’re going to the hospital.”

      Hopping and stumbling and then begrudgingly accepting her help she got him out to the sports car.

      “Where’s your car?” he asked.

      “It turned into a pumpkin.” Carefully, she eased him into the passenger seat and then walked around to the driver’s side.

      She backed the car up, gravel spitting out from under her tires. He didn’t say anything and she drove into the night, the moon’s watchful eye hovering over the car.

      “I’m…I’m sorry,” Walter said, his chin up, his shoulders back. Clinging to the pride he had.

      “Tell that to my mother.”

      She stopped, realizing what had just happened. Walter had a sprained ankle. At least. Combined with the drinking, the Parkinson’s…he’d need help. And Sandra needed to be needed. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

      “I don’t see what’s so funny,” Walter said.

      “No. You wouldn’t.” But, oh, Lord, it was funny. The Fates could not conspire to help her business, but they could conspire to keep her on the ranch.

      But at what cost to her mom?

      “Not three hours ago Mom was saying she wanted to leave.” Her fingers curled into talons around the steering wheel. “And I had to convince her to stay. And now you have handed us the perfect reason to stay and I can’t…” She stopped at a stop sign and glared at him. “And I can’t abide by the thought of her taking care of you.”

      “I haven’t asked her to. I wouldn’t.”

      “It doesn’t matter. You need her. I couldn’t drag her away if I tried.”

      She pushed the accelerator, too hard, and Walter winced as his foot hit the car door. In his silence the past rushed back, drowning her in bitter memories.

      “Your wife—”

      “Is gone. Divorced.”

      “Too late. You don’t win any points for that, Walter! And she tried to kick my mom out of her home after Dad died. My dad, who was your best friend!” She threw the words at him like grenades lobbed across the car. “He was your most loyal employee. And what did you do to stop your wife? Nothing. Just like you did nothing when she was beating up Jack.” He flinched at that and her stomach turned.

      This isn’t you, she thought, but she couldn’t stop. The bitterness was out of control.

      “You stood by while your bitch of a wife ruined everyone’s lives and I can’t just shrug my shoulders and let my mom take care of you like nothing ever happened!”

      The sound as he shifted in his seat was loud and she glanced over at him, furious.

      “Don’t you have something to say?”

      “I can’t forgive myself, either. And as for your mom…I don’t want her to stay. Not for me.”

      She laughed, dark and resentful. “Well, at least that we can agree on. Not that it will do us much good.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean, like it or not, we’ll be staying.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      AFTER A FEW HOURS of sleep Lucy woke up, got dressed in her favorite jeans and loose white T-shirt, pulled her hair back in a sloppy ponytail and contemplated her jewelry.

      Everything was too light, she needed something heavy. Something dark. But her designs never leaned that way. Finally, she settled on the beaded silver hoops.

      Sandra was already up, humming as she put scrambled eggs onto a blue plate. She glowed with a grim purpose, which was entirely expected.

      Careful what you wish for, she chided herself.

      “Hey, Mom,” she said, grabbing the keys to Reese’s sports car from the dish on the counter where all the keys sat. She opened her purse and pulled out her cell.

      Meisha had called four times this morning.

      She turned off her phone.

      “You’re up early.” Her mother’s voice, softened and textured by her Spanish accent, was still the best sound in the world. And the sight of her in a kitchen was like seeing an animal in its natural habitat. Sandra ruled the kitchen, every kitchen. It didn’t matter where she was, in ten minutes she would have food and drink to end your hunger and soothe your soul. She was magic in a thin, five-foot package. And this morning all that magic was ignited.

      “I’ve got to take a car back over to Stone Hollow.”

      “You want some eggs?” Sandra put a fork on the plate.

      “I’ll take a bite.” She reached for the fork, but Sandra moved the plate out of the way.

      “These aren’t for you. I’ll make you some, though.”

      “Walter?” Of course she would already be waiting on Walter.

      “It was good what you did, getting him to the hospital.”

      “Yeah, well, you know what they say—no good deed goes unpunished.”

      “Lucia Marie—”

      “Mom.” She took a deep breath and fanned her hands over the counter as if finding, by touch, the argument that was going to work. It was time to get her head out of her own misery and take care of her mom, the way her mom had always taken care of her. “I get it, he needs you, but don’t let him take advantage of you.”

      “He hasn’t even let me into his room, honey.”

      “You wanted to leave…remember? One more week.”

      “He’s going to have that cast for at least three.”

      “Jack’s not poor, Mom. He can hire someone to take care of him.”

      “And how will that work? Walter—”

      “I don’t think Walter gets a vote on the subject anymore.”

      “Everyone is allowed their pride, sweetheart.”

      Lucy put her head down on the counter. Lifted it and thunked it again. “Mom, he’s a drunk. He will always be a drunk. Caring for that man will bleed you dry.”

      “Not if he quits.”

      “And you honestly think that will happen?”

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