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  Forty-five minutes from his office, he’d cleared the bustle of the city, and the six-lane freeway narrowed to two lanes on either side of a median filled with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes. Nothing like spring in Texas to calm his mind after crunching numbers all day long, but leaving the office so late to head west put the setting sun directly in his face. He flipped his visor down, glad that the exit for Highway 36 was only a few miles away. Once he turned, he’d get a break from the blinding rays. Then he’d pass through the little towns of Sealy and Bellville before winding down one-lane roads to the peaceful countryside of Round Top. It was a long commute, almost an hour and a half each way, but it was worth it when he pulled into his driveway. Small-town living was better for all of them. Especially Chad.

  Brad could still recall the night Chad came stumbling into the house—drunk. His seventeen-year-old son had been running around with a rebellious group of friends in Houston. And sometimes Chad’s glassy eyes had suggested more than just alcohol abuse. Brad shook his head to clear the recollections, knowing he would continue to pray that his son would make better choices now that he had some distance from his old buddies.

  Brad felt like a blessed man. He’d been married to his high school sweetheart for nearly twenty years, and he had three amazing children. He wanted to spend his life being the best husband and father he could be. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t thank the Lord for the life he’d been given, and it was Brad’s job to take care of his family.

  Darlene finished setting the table. She regretted that her mother couldn’t see her enjoying her grandmother’s dining room set. Darlene had been surprised to find the oak table and chairs still in the house when they’d moved in. The antiques had been dusty and in dire need of cleaning, but they were just as sturdy as ever. She could remember many meals with her parents and grandparents in this house, at this table.

  She still missed her grandparents—and her parents. Dad had been gone almost six years, and two years had passed since her mother’s death. Her parents had started their family late in life, both of them in their late thirties when she was born, and Dale was born two years after Darlene. She was glad her brother hadn’t wanted the farm. It had been a struggle to buy him out, but no regrets. Someday, they too would have a “mansion on the hill,” like Layla’s. She cast her eyes downward, frowning at the worn-out wooden floors. She’d be glad when they could afford to cover the original planking with new hardwood.

  Thinking of Layla brought a smile to her face as she mashed steaming potatoes in a pot on the stove. She couldn’t help but wonder what the tall blonde was doing all alone on that estate. Darlene had never even been on a horse or owned a pair of cowgirl boots. Several of her friends back in Houston sported high-dollar, pointy-toed boots, but they didn’t particularly appeal to Darlene. Her friend Gina had told her it was un-Texan not to own a pair of boots.

  She missed Gina. They’d been friends since their daughters had started Girl Scouts together, but after Gina’s divorce, they’d drifted apart. Gina’s interests had changed from Girl Scout and PTO meetings to going out with new single friends.

  She left the dining room and went back to the kitchen, glad that the aroma of dinner covered up the dingy old-house smell that lingered, despite her best efforts to conceal it with air fresheners.

  “Mom! Mom!” Ansley burst into the kitchen with the kind of enthusiasm that could mean either celebration or disaster; with Ansley you never knew. At twelve, she was the youngest and the most dramatic in the family.

  Darlene gave the potatoes a final stir before she turned to face her. “What is it, Ansley?”

  “Guess what?” Ansley rocked back and forth from heel to toe, and Darlene could tell by the grin on her daughter’s face that the news was good. “I did it. Straight Cs and above!”

  Darlene brought her hands to her chest and held her breath for a moment, smiling. When Ansley was in grade school, early testing indicated she was going to struggle, and Darlene and Brad knew she was a bit slower than other kids her age.

  Not so thrilling was what Brad had promised Ansley if she received a report card without any failing grades. “Sweetie, that’s great. I’m so proud of you.” She hugged her daughter, knowing it was highly unlikely Ansley wouldn’t remember her father’s promise. Ansley eased out of the hug.

  “I know they scare you, Mom, but having some chickens and roosters will be so much fun! We’ll be like real farmers, and every day after school, I’ll go get the eggs.” Ansley’s dark hair brushed against her straightened shoulders, and her big brown eyes twinkled. “Think how much money you’ll save on eggs!”

  Darlene bit her bottom lip as she recalled the chickens her grandparents used to keep on this very same farm. And one very mean rooster. Eight dollars in savings per month was hardly going to be worth it, but a promise was a promise. She’d told Brad before they’d left Houston not to offer such a reward, but Darlene had put it out of her mind. At the time, it seemed a stretch for Ansley to hit the goal and make all Cs.

  “Maybe just have laying chickens. You don’t need a rooster.” Darlene walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a tub of butter.

  “Mom . . .”

  Darlene set the butter on the table and raised a brow in time to see Ansley rolling her eyes.

  “Even I know we can’t have baby chicks without a rooster.” Ansley folded her arms across her chest.

  Darlene grinned. “I know you know that, but how many chickens are you hoping to have?” She recalled that on some of her visits to her grandparents’ house, if the wind blew just right, she could smell the chicken coop from the front yard, even though the pens were well over fifty yards away, back next to the barn. When they’d first moved in, Brad had fixed up the old coops as an incentive for Ansley to pull her grades up. Sitting on the porch swing with Brad late in the evenings had become a regular thing, and smelly chickens would be an unwelcome distraction.

  “Not too many,” Ansley said as she pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water.

  One was too many in Darlene’s opinion, but it was a well-deserved reward. Darlene gave a lot of the credit to the school here. Much to her children’s horror, there were only 240 students in grades kindergarten through twelve in the Round Top/ Carmine School District, but Darlene felt like they were getting a better education and more one-on-one attention. Darlene had been on the verge of homeschooling Ansley before they left Houston, but Ansley threw such a fit that Darlene had discarded the idea.

  Ansley chugged the water, then put the glass in the sink. “I can’t wait ’til Daddy gets home.”

  Darlene smiled. Her youngest was always a breath of fresh air, full of energy, and the tomboy in the family.

  She thought about the snake and realized Ansley probably wouldn’t have freaked out after all. She heard Brad’s car rolling up the gravel driveway, and moments later, the front screen door slammed and Ansley yelled, “Daddy! Guess what!”

  An hour later, everyone was gathered at the dinner table except Chad. After about ten minutes, he finally sauntered into the room, slid into his chair, and folded his hands for prayer.

  “It’s your turn to offer the blessing, Chad.” Darlene bowed her head.

  “Thank You, Lord, for the many blessings You’ve given us, for this food, the roof over our head, and Your love. And, God . . .” Chad paused with a sigh. Darlene opened one eye and held her breath. More often than not, Chad’s prayers included appeals for something outside the realm of what should be requested at the dinner table. Like the time he’d asked for God to help his parents see their way to buying him a better car. Darlene closed her eye, let out her breath, and listened.

  “Could you heal Mr. Blackstone’s cancer and bring him back to school? He’s a good guy.” Darlene’s insides warmed, but then Chad continued, “Our substitute stinks. Amen.”

  “Chad!” Darlene sat taller, then cut her eyes at Brad, who shouldn’t have been smiling.

  “No, Mom. I me
an, really. He stinks. He doesn’t smell good.” Chad scooped out a large spoonful of potatoes. “And he’s like a hundred or something.”

  “Even more reason you shouldn’t speak badly about him. Respect your elders, remember?” Darlene passed the meat loaf to Chad, who was shoveling potatoes like he hadn’t eaten in a month of Sundays.

  “Grace, how was your day?” Brad passed their older daughter a plate of rolls.

  “It was okay.”

  Grace rarely complained, but Darlene knew she wasn’t happy about the move from Houston. Mostly because of the boy she’d left behind.

  Ansley turned her head to Darlene, grunted, then frowned. “Mom, why are you wearing my shirt?”

  Darlene looked down at the big roach. “Oh, I had to borrow it earlier. I sort of couldn’t go in my room for a while.”

  Darlene told the full-length version of the snake story that she’d shortened for Brad on the phone.

  “I’ve seen that woman,” Chad said. “And she’s hot.”

  “She’s old like Mom, Chad! That’s gross.” Ansley squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then shook her head.

  Darlene took a bite of roll. At thirty-eight, when had she become old in her children’s eyes? “I believe Layla is several years older than I am, Chad.”

  Her son shrugged. “Whatever. She’s still—”

  “Chad, that’s enough.” Brad looked in Chad’s direction, and Darlene was glad to see him step in since it seemed like she was the one who always disciplined the children. Brad, on the other hand—well, he promised chickens.

  They were all quiet for a few moments before Chad spoke up again.

  “Did you know Layla drives a tractor? I’ve seen her out in the pasture on the way to school.” He shook his head. “Seems weird for a woman.” He laughed as he looked to his left at Ansley. “Can you picture Mom out on a tractor plowing the fields?”

  Ansley laughed. “No, I can’t.”

  “Don’t underestimate your mom. You never know what she might do.” Brad reached for another roll as he winked at Darlene.

  Darlene smiled. She found herself thinking, yet again, that this was a good move for them. They all needed this fresh start. None of the kids had been particularly happy at first, but they were coming around.

  “Can I be excused?” Grace put her napkin in her lap and scooted her chair back.

  Darlene knew meat loaf wasn’t Grace’s favorite. “Whose night is it to help with dishes?”

  Grace and Ansley both pointed at Chad.

  “Okay,” Darlene said to Grace. “You can be excused.”

  Darlene watched Grace leave the table. Her middle child was tiny like Darlene, and she was the only one in the family who inherited Darlene’s blond hair and blue eyes. And her features were as perfect as a porcelain doll’s, complete with a flawless ivory complexion. She looked like a little princess. Chad and Ansley had their father’s dark hair and eyes—and his height. Darlene loved her children equally, proud of them all, but sometimes it was hard not to favor Grace just a little bit, especially since they’d come so close to losing her as an infant. Grace had come into the world nine weeks premature, a surprise to everyone, including Darlene’s doctor, since Darlene had delivered Chad at full term with no complications just two years earlier. Grace struggled those first few weeks with underdeveloped lungs and severe jaundice, and twice they were told to prepare themselves for the worst. But their Grace was a fighter, and as her sixteenth birthday approached, Darlene silently thanked God for the millionth time for His grace.

  There’d been issues and struggles with both Chad and Ansley from time to time—mostly with Chad. But Grace had never given them one bit of trouble.

  Chapter Two

  As Darlene neared Layla’s estate, she stopped to admire the view. Even Layla’s entryway was something she could only dream about. A flight of sculpted blackbirds arched above the iron gate, and rosebushes bursting with red grew in front of white-rock columns. She thought about her family’s metal pipe gate, which required you to push the button three or four times before it opened with shaky effort.

  She was surprised to see Layla’s gate already open. Darlene drove onto a beautiful cobblestone drive. She tried to speculate what such a project would cost, especially a driveway as long as Layla’s. After only a few moments, she gave up, knowing it was completely out of reach for her and Brad. They were just hoping to get some gravel poured over the dirt driveway. As it was, someone got stuck every time it rained.

  The closer she got to Layla’s house, the more nervous she felt. Layla might not like unannounced visitors in the middle of the afternoon. Darlene thought back to the days when you looked up a person’s number in the phone book. Now everyone had a cell phone. On the off chance Layla was listed, Darlene had checked for a landline but hadn’t found one.

  With a quick glance in the visor mirror, Darlene saw that her makeup and gloss were in place. Then she fluffed her hair and stepped out of the car. Smoothing the seat-belt wrinkles from her sleeveless white blouse, she felt much more presentable today.

  She looked around and gaped at Layla’s amazing flower beds, a mix of begonias, lilies, and tulips. With her decorative tin of chocolate chip cookies in hand, she breathed in the aroma of freshly mowed pastures and walked toward the door, her heeled sandals clicking against the cobblestones. Her black sunglasses slid down her nose, so she gave them a push upward. It was only the beginning of April, but already the temperatures were in the 80s.

  She knocked several times and waited. No answer. She shifted the cookies to her other hand and knocked again, but still no answer. She was heading back to her car when she heard movement to her left. Layla was closing the barn door and heading across the yard.

  “Hello!” Darlene waved, feeling intrusive. She’d just give her the cookies and go.

  Layla was dressed the same way as before—blue jeans tucked into pointy-toed boots, long-sleeved denim shirt, and the cowgirl hat. The woman had dirt on her face, yet Darlene was sure Layla still presented herself better than she did.

  “Hi, Darlene.” Layla stopped in front of her, expressionless. “What can I do for you? Another snake?” She grinned. Only briefly. But enough for Darlene to see that her teeth were as perfect as the rest of her.

  “Oh no . . .” Darlene waved a hand and squeaked out a laugh. “No more snakes. I just wanted to bring you something, you know . . . a thank-you for slaying my intruder.” She pushed the tin toward Layla.

  Layla pulled off one of her work gloves, took the tin, and wasted no time prying off the lid. After studying the cookies for a few moments, she chose one and took a big bite. “Thanks,” she said after she swallowed. Then she proceeded to polish off the rest of the cookie.

  “You’re welcome.” Darlene wondered if Layla would invite her inside, or if that was Darlene’s cue to hit the road. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and once again gave her sunglasses a heave-ho up the bridge of her nose. “How many acres do you have?”

  Layla pulled out another cookie, then shut the tin. “Thirty-five.”

  Darlene thought about their ten acres and the time Brad spent keeping it up. “Wow. That’s a lot. Do you have help, or do you take care of it all by yourself?”

  “No help. It keeps me young.”

  I’ll say. Darlene watched her eat another cookie, feeling her own hips expand. She loved to bake, but seldom partook. She was short, and she had to work at not being short and fat. “My kids love chocolate chip cookies, so I make them a lot.” She paused. “Do you have children?”

  Layla swallowed. “No.”

  Hmm . . . No husband. No children. Lives in the mansion on the hill. And looks like a forty-plus supermodel dressed in cowgirl gear.

  “Okay, well, I just wanted to bring you the cookies. Thanks again.” Darlene gave a wave. Layla was taking off her other glove and didn’t look up. Darlene had taken about four steps toward her car when Layla called her name. Darlene turned around.

  “You don’t
know how to sew, do you? I mean, you kind of look like the sewing type.”

  The sewing type? “Um, yeah. I sew.” Maybe the fact that she’d been a homemaker for almost twenty years showed.

  Layla ran her sleeve across her forehead, which further smudged the dirt already there. “I have a formal event to attend.” She sighed. “I’ve lost twelve pounds, and my dress is swallowing me. I’d pay you to alter it for me.”

  I should have such problems. “Uh, okay.” Darlene pushed her glasses up on her head. “You don’t have to pay me, though.”

  “Okay.”

  No argument? She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her Capri jeans and stood tall, but no amount of stretching would bring her any higher than Layla’s shoulders.

  “Can you come in and pin the dress now?”

  Now? “Uh, yeah . . . sure.” At least she’d get a chance to see the inside of Layla’s house.

  Layla started walking toward the house, so Darlene followed. Before Layla opened the door, she turned to Darlene. “Can you give me just a minute? I wasn’t expecting company.”

  Darlene smiled. “No problem.” She felt somewhat relieved that Layla’s house might not be in top condition since Layla had seen Darlene’s house on the back end of the cleaning schedule.

  It still seemed odd that Layla would leave her standing on the porch. Usually folks just had to deal with an unexpected guest, clean house or not.

  Layla moved like a tornado through the living room and kitchen, clearing the areas of evidence. Last thing she needed was a nosy neighbor getting in her business, but at least she’d get her dress taken in. It was a great gown. Seemed a waste to go buy a new one for an event she didn’t even want to attend. She reminded herself it was for a good cause and a way to unload some money for tax purposes.

  She piled everything in her arms, dumped it on her bed to deal with later, then closed her bedroom door. Down the hall, she went into the extra bedroom and found her emerald-green gown. She draped it over her arm.