Which was impossible. It was crazy. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t evenknowanybody in Portland, and Portland rent was insane. She’d read about it. She didn’t even have a four-year college degree. Who was going to hire her for some Mary Tyler Moore job, whatever Blake said?
“Hey,” Stacey Bathurst said, and Jennifer jumped. She’d barely noticed she was at the checkstand, and had been loading groceries onto the belt by rote.
“Hey,” she said back. “How’s it going? How’s Isaac doing with his last semester?”
Stacey sighed and kept scanning groceries. “I keep telling him, you can still screw this thing up, buddy, and the U of I can tell you they don’t want some party kid, and they’re sure as heck not going to give you any money, and you’re going to be right back here working for nine bucks an hour, but he’s not listening. I know we were seniors ourselves once and exactly that stupid, but I can’t remember why. How about Dyma?”
“Not too bad,” Jennifer said. “So far, anyway. She wants out of here so bad she can taste it, though, so that helps. Also, you can’t work for NASA or whoever without a whole lot of school, and nobody else but U-Dub is offering realistic money, so that helps.”
She felt, as usual, about sixty-five years old. She was a good fifteen years younger than Stacey, and, no, she hadn’t been stupid when she was a senior. She’d been stupidbeforethen, but as a senior? She’d been running home right after school so her mom could get to her swing-shift job. Starting dinner before her grandpa got home from the day shift, and taking care of the world’s most stubborn toddler, a child to whom the words, “Wait a minute” meant, “Let’s have a tantrum.” Trying to get her homework finished in between, and sneaking in half an hour to do some last-minute studying for the SAT.
“SAT prep should be a high-octane, full-on affair.” She’d read that on a test prep site. She’d laughed.
She’d gotten a scholarship too, though. She just hadn’t been able to make it work.
“So what’s new with Blake? What does the house look like? Do you have pictures? What did Dakota seem like, coming back from the honeymoon? On a yacht. In Hawaii. Can you even imagine?” Stacey asked, and the kid bagging the groceries almost visibly pricked up his ears. No surprise. Blake Orbison was the most exciting thing to ever hit Wild Horse.
“The house came out great,” Jennifer said.
“Is she pregnant yet?” Stacey asked. “I swear, that guy couldlookat me and I’d be pregnant, and I’m not even sure the equipment’s working right anymore.”
“They’re very happy.” Jennifer knew she sounded stiff, but how could she be anything else?
Stacey sighed. “I guess you have to be discreet, huh?”
“That’s the idea,” Jennifer said. “Good luck with Isaac.” And escaped.
And, no, not because she was in love with Blake Orbison. He was an exciting guy, sure. He was a kind guy, too, under the swagger, but he was the most confident man she’d ever met, and she didn’t have it in her to push back the way he needed pushing. She liked him, but Blake would bework.
Dakota Savage, though? Dakota had enough spine for anything. The two of them always seemed to be on an adventure, and let’s face it, when you looked in the dictionary under “adventurous,” it didn’t bring up a picture of Jennifer Cardello. She wasn’t the type.
Shewasthe type, though, who had Mark Mathison in her grandpa’s living room, watching TV with him and waiting for Jennifer to cook dinner.
“Hey, babe,” he said, but didn’t get off the couch.
She was so not taking Mark to Yellowstone. She wasnot.She was being Mary Tyler Moore. Footloose and fancy free. Even though Mary had died years ago, and the show had been over since the 1970s, which made the Mary-life she was wishing for the rightful dream of somebody whowouldbe sixty-five now. She didn’t care. She was at least being Mary for one weekend, even if she had to have drama to get it.
She’d never done drama. Her parents had done drama. Not her. No, sir. She was the go-between, the smoother-over, the suck-it-up-and-get-it-done girl. She was a no-drama llama. Which waspreciselywhy Mark Mathison was still on her grandpa’s couch, looking handsome, kicked-back, and sheriff’s-deputy-like, and she was exactly as not-single but not-married as ever, four years after he’d first sat his butt down there.
She could swear she heard her mom whispering in her ear, “You go for it, baby. Now’s your time. Make your move.”
It was time to own her redhead.
4
Family Dynamics
Harlan couldn’t believehe’d agreed to spend Super Bowl weekend in Yellowstone. Not just in Yellowstone, either. In a lodge full of people, with a temperature outside like the frozen tundra, and without a TV. Without the internet. Probably without room service.
He blamed Owen.
“We can ski,” Owen had said on Wednesday night, after Harlan had lost at pool to Dane and everybody else had gone to bed happy. It had hurt every fiber of his whole self, but he’d done it, hadn’t he? Shouldn’t he get some kind of reward for that?
Owen had been right. Ithadthrilled Dane. It had thrilled Amy. It had thrilled the kids. It would probably thrill the whole damn county, by the time they were all done talking about it.
“I don’t like to ski,” Harlan had answered.
“Everybody likes to ski,” Owen said. “Sure, it’s cross-country, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. It all depends how you do it. Plus, you got wilderness. First national park in the United States. World Heritage Site, like the Great Barrier Reef.”
