“Easy for you to say. You’re leaving. I have to live here. More to the point, I have to work here. This sort of thing could ruin my business.”
“Not to be unsympathetic,” said Jess, “but your freak-out seems a little premature.”
“Oh yeah? I just had a cancellation.”
“Related to this?”
Carrie thought of the poor non-bride’s tears. There really were worse problems in the world. “Probably not.”
“Then take it down a notch. Who cancelled?”
Jess’s eyes were closed, her hand draped over her forehead. Very Ophelia.
“Here’s a hint. Someone’s not getting married, after all.”
“Think of me as the new kid in town, Carrie. I don’t know anyone anymore.”
“You remember Bethany Kyle though. We graduated with her.”
Jess’s eyes opened. She sat up. “No way.”
“Way. I just talked to her ten minutes ago. Poor kid is devastated.”
“Huh.” She thought for a second. “Does it make me a bad person if I’m glad there’s a new scandal for everyone to chew on? I’m mean, I’m used to it, but heavy lies the crown and all.”
Jess had left Cherry Lake for LA, but instead of an acting career, ended up the mistress to an older man. An extremely wealthy older man, who’d recently passed away, leaving Jess to the tender mercies of his children, who were of the opinion that his death had derailed her gravy train, and not a moment too soon.
Grandfather Nate was horrified by his beloved Cherry Bomb’s latest misstep.
But Cherry-Bomb Jess and John had turned the cliché on its head by falling in love.
Which now left her heartbroken, as well as destitute, and homeless. Though only Carrie understood about the heartbreak. Just getting up every morning and facing herself in the mirror, knowing the censure that awaited her outside the front door, must be an act of tremendous courage. She reached out and squeezed Jess’s arm.
“The price of fame, honey.”
“Not exactly how I was hoping to achieve it. Hey, we should go out.”
Carrie groaned. “That’s your answer to everything.”
Jess elbowed her. “When’s the last time you got good and drunk?”
Anyone else would have had the sense to stay home, out of the public eye. But Carrie knew Jess’s bravado was a way of maintaining the walls that hid deep insecurities and emotions so fragile she seldom, if ever, allowed them out.
“How about we order pizza and watch The Bachelorette?” she suggested. “I’ve got a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge.”
“Come on Care-Bear, live a little.”
Carrie squirmed. She’d always hated the nickname Grandfather had given her, though it was a lot better than the Virgin Ice-Queen moniker that Tony Caputo had given her, after she’d kicked away his drunken floundering the night of the grad camp-out.
Cherry Bomb: juicy and bright, fireworks and bursts of flavor.
Care-Bear: a child’s toy, cute and cuddly but in the end, a placeholder for real love.
“You party animal.” Jess heaved herself off the couch. “I’m going to take a shower in bleach. When I come back, I expect you to have makeup on and something that shows a little leg. Got it?”
Carrie sighed. “Whatever you say, cuz.”
*
Ethan poked the needle through the calf’s thick hide, depressed the plunger, then slapped it on its dusty rump and sent it off, bawling, to its mother.
He had nearly two hours before he was scheduled to meet Carrie Logan at her studio, and you could get a lot done on a ranch in two hours.
The calf kicked out the leg he’d injected, but already, the limp was gone. A minor infection, the vet had told him when he’d been out last week. No reason Ethan couldn’t handle the treatment, though Dr. Morrow had smiled as he’d said it.
He stood up and pulled off his gloves, wiping his forehead against his forearm. Early morning in the wilds of Montana. He sucked a breath of cool air deep into his lungs, wondering again why he’d agreed to help Carrie. The air tasted like wilderness, like freedom, the pungent musk of cattle nothing more than a fleeting top note compared to the crisp freshness of glacier-fed streams and the lush mountain greenery.