1
Kate
“Toto,looks like we aren’t in Kansas anymore,” I say to Charlie, my Cavalier King Charles spaniel, as I drive the rental Cadillac through downtown Copper Creek. On Main Street, quaint brick buildings with ground-level stores catch my eye.
It looks like something straight out of a postcard.
Truth? I’ve never been to Kansas. Or even a small town.
Unless a five-star resort counts as one.
Charlie barks from the passenger seat, accompanied by ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” piping through the car speakers. I’ve been singing and bopping along to the movie soundtrack ever since we left Billings Airport.
“What do you think?” I ask him. “It’s not quite Beverly Hills, is it?” No expensive boutiques, no posh spas, no restaurants boasting world-renowned chefs.
No dance clubs with exclusive guest lists.
From what I’ve seen so far, the closest thing the town has to a dance club is a building with a neon sign proclaiming that it’s Joe’s Bar.
It looks like something straight out of a movie.
My phone rings and I accept the call.
Drew’s voice streams through the car’s speaker. “Kate, what’s this craziness about you going to Montana?”
That would be brother #1: Andrew. And no, you aren’t allowed to call him Drew.
“Hi to you too, Drew,” I say, and I swear Charlie chuckles.
Even though I can’t see him, I can guarantee my brother is rolling his eyes. He does that a lot around me.
“Why on earth would you go to Montana?”
“The real question is, why wouldn’t I come here? The air is clean and the mountains are majestic.” Yes, I read that in a brochure about the area.
I haven’t been out of the car yet to judge if the part about the air quality is true, but the brochure got it right about the mountains.
“You shouldn’t be there on your own.”
“I’m not on my own. Right, Charlie?”
Charlie barks in reply.
“That dog won’t be able to keep an eye on you and help you when you get yourself into trouble.”
“Yes, because I’m such a rebel, always getting into trouble,” I say with a laugh. “News flash, Drew—I’m a big girl now.”
“You’re a woman with a permanent limp.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” It’s the same argument I’ve had to deal with from my family since the accident eleven months ago. They seem to think I’m no longer capable of doing anything on my own.
When the limp strategy doesn’t work to get me on the plane back to LA, my brother tries Plan B. “You should be here, attending charity events with Lucinda.” Our stepmother. “It’s a golden opportunity to find the man who will one day take care of you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to let you go, Drew. I have an incoming call from Chauvinists Unite. They want to interview me about your membership application.”
“I’m serious, Kate.”
“Me, too.” Plus, I’ve long since realized that men aren’t interested in me, because of my limp. It’s a dark mark against me: I’m flawed. Broken. No longer perfect.
