Reins of Friendship, page 3
Jo stared at Heather, her expression blank. “Sounds right.”
Moirin barked with laughter. “Ah, the expenses of parenthood. It doesn’t end at high school.”
Leslie grinned and assessed her sister’s outfit. She was wearing wide-leg denim capris and an untucked khaki button-down shirt. A little dull, but the colors would blend well. Leslie peered through the camera, shifting focus.
“Okay, settle into the loveseat. It’s just cloudy enough that the window will be perfect. Heather and Jo seated, Moirin and I on the arms.” She peered through the lens again, then pulled back.
“Yes, ma’am, Ms. James.” Jo snapped her heels together and saluted before scrambling into position.
“Oh, did that sound like I was barking orders? Sorry. Arrange at will.” She flapped her arms and waited for them to get comfortable.
After a couple of test shots, Leslie set the timer and rushed into the frame. As always, a couple of closed-eye shots, one silly expression when they were all laughing, and two great keepers.
“Thanks, guy,” she said as she packed up the tripod.
“Aw, I know you love your memories,” Heather said, squishing her in a bear hug. “We all love that you do it.”
“So, now that the mandatory part is done, I say let’s check out the village. We stopped at the market briefly, but I saw so many cute shops I’d like to investigate,” Jo said.
“I could go for some shopping, especially if we get to walk outside as well,” Moirin said.
“Plus, we should get more food!” Leslie said.
“Well, that settles it,” Heather said, nodding. “Let’s head into town.”
Chapter 4
Shopping & A Rescue Cat
Heather backed the Pacifica out of the driveway, checking the mirrors and backup camera for low-hanging branches and woodland creatures that might be inclined to dash across her path.
Jo sat in the passenger seat, running her hands across the leather and the large display. “This is nice. I keep thinking I need to get a new car but keep putting it off.”
“Thanks. Tabor chose it. He insisted I needed it. I didn’t think I was going to like it, but I do.” She navigated between the low-hanging tree branches, smiling at Jo as she managed to avoid all contact. It wouldn’t do to scratch up her brand-new vehicle.
Leslie’s voice carried the conversation from the back seat. “I’m not saying jogging is bad, but speed walking is lower impact. It’s better for your knees but still good for the heart.”
Heather heard Moirin grunt. “My knees are fine. Jogging builds muscle and gives a better calorie burn.”
Give me a stationary bike any day. Better yet, diet food that tastes good. Heather kept that thought to herself. Otherwise, all three of them would start lecturing her.
Jo toyed with the large touch screen and zoomed in on a local map, finding a route to the center of town. She adjusted the settings, deciding on the most direct route instead of the fastest. “This way looks prettiest,” she said.
Heather couldn’t see any difference, except that the map was green and blue without white lines to indicate housing areas. It seemed in Jo’s mind that prettier was more remote.
“…core strengthening, sure. risk of injury… oh, good point.” Snippets of Moirin and Leslie’s back seat debate on the benefits of jogging versus power walking floated to the front seat, but Heather tuned it out.
She followed the turns as directed, finding herself on a hilly, curvy, two-lane road behind a horse trailer being towed at forty miles an hour by a heavy-duty pickup truck with Dually wheels. Rocks from the semi-gravel road pitched at them, each clanking as it hit the hood or clinking as it collided with the windshield.
She winced. After the third missile, she eased the Pacifica into the left lane, and seeing her way clear, passed the truck.
A few miles later, she encountered a second trailer. “I haven’t seen any horses in pastures around here. I wonder why so many people are hauling them around?”
“Maybe they have a rodeo going on this weekend. Oh, wouldn’t that be fun?” Leslie said, leaning forward from the back seat.
“As long as I don’t have to keep driving around these things,” Heather mumbled as she flipped on the blinker and slid into the left lane. A hill and a curve were up ahead, blocking her vision, but there had been few other vehicles, so it was likely no one was coming. She played the odds, accelerating to pass the truck. Halfway through the maneuver, a car appeared at the top of the hill, just in front of them.
Her heart flew to her throat, and her stomach clenched. The muscles in her body locked, except for her right foot, which pressed the accelerator to the floor.
Jo inhaled sharply as the engine gunned, spitting gravel into the wheel wells. Heather’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she cleared the truck and yanked the vehicle back into the right-hand lane. She released the breath she’d been holding, realizing the oncoming car was still a safe distance away.
“Just feel like you needed some NASCAR practice time?” Moirin’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Heather’s hands shook, “I saw that car coming and I panicked. I’m not used to country roads like this. I’m sorry.”
A few minutes later, her heart was still fluttering as they arrived in the village. She unclenched her fingers, still white as they still gripped the steering wheel. She slowed her speed, taking in the quaint town. It was clean, well-maintained, and welcoming, with flowers in large pots on the sidewalk and trailing from baskets hanging along light posts. Shops, small restaurants, and specialty stores lined the main street, and clusters of people strolled the sidewalks. It was lively, but not overrun with tourists.
“This place is adorable. How have we not been here before?” Jo turned her head from side to side.
“We spend too much time in Denver, I suppose,” Heather said. She neared an empty parking spot, nearly stopped, then sped up again. “Which is ironic, because it’s driving here that I find intimidating. I hate parallel parking, but with all these big trucks and horse trailers everywhere, how do people see around them? For that matter, how do people drive them, and manage to parallel park them?” She shook her head as Leslie and Moirin chuckled.
“It’s okay. I hate parallel parking too. There’s a parking lot on your left up there,” Jo said.
Heather sighed with relief as she parked and stepped out of the vehicle. There wasn’t a horse trailer in sight.
“Let’s walk up the street where we drove in. There were a few places that looked interesting.” Heather dug a straw hat out of a huge matching bag. She put the hat on, shielding her eyes from the sun, then slung the bag over her shoulder.
They browsed several clothing stores, a flower shop, a candle boutique, and a souvenir shop before ducking into a sandwich shop. It was well past noon, and it had been too long since the early morning muffins. Thankfully, the line was short, and soon they took their wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches to a bistro table set up on the sidewalk outside the shop.
Heather’s stomach grumbled as she unwrapped the thick slices of brioche bread stuffed with seafood salad. She groaned at the first bite of soft, sweet, buttery bread and the tangy creaminess of the seafood with crunchy chopped vegetables. “Oh, this is heavenly.”
Jo nodded, her mouth too full to speak, a smear of mayonnaise on the side of her cheek.
Moirin waved a napkin at Jo. “I haven’t had a grinder in years, but this is as good as I’ve ever had.”
Jo grabbed the napkin and dabbed her face. She finished the sandwich, then balled up the wax paper and leaned back in the chair, sighing with contentment.”
“You guys ready?” Leslie stood, gathering the trash from their lunch. “Let’s cross over at the corner and go back down the other side? There’s a leather store over there I’d like to check out.”
They walked a few feet when Jo’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from a small case attached to her belt. “Hello? Oh, hi Kyle.” My brother, she mouthed.
Heather slowed her steps, matching Jo’s reduced pace.
“Yeah, I’m good. You?” She was silent, but flashed a smile at Heather, raising her hand to make a chatting-mouth impression. “Great, great. Hey, can I call you back maybe Sunday afternoon? I’m away with the girls for the weekend.”
Jo stopped walking and laid her hand on Heather’s arm. “Uh, huh. Oh. Well, no, that’s not.” Jo frowned and pursed her lips. “Well, maybe I could do something, but not that exactly. Hang on a sec,” she said, then, lowering the phone, pressing it against her leg.
“What’s up?” Heather said.
“Oh, some family thing. I’ll just talk to him real quick and catch up with you guys.” Jo pointed back to the café tables. “I’m going to go back and sit.”
“Are you sure? I’m happy to hang out here with you.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure I won’t be long, and I’ll meet you guys in a few blocks.” Jo turned before Heather could respond, speaking low into her phone, and she walked away.
Heather watched her friend scurry back to the table. That family always seemed to be imposing on her for one favor or another. Jo went out of her way to please them, much more than Heather would have done if their roles were reversed. She had her times of frustration with Leslie, but they knew where to draw the line.
She crossed the street and caught up with Leslie and Moirin halfway down the block. Glancing over, she saw Jo still hunched over the table. “Ugh, that woman is a saint,” she mumbled as she followed the other two into the shop.
The aroma of leather, with undertones of wood, smoke, and an unfamiliar, earthy, musky scent, filled her nostrils. The front window was stuffed with cowboy paraphernalia, mostly unrecognizable to Heather. She glanced over the display and scanned the store. Nothing caught her attention.
Leslie browsed a sale rack of flowy bohemian shirts in a variety of muted earthtone colors. Any one of them would be dull and lifeless on someone else, but Leslie’s tawny coloring and tall, lean figure could carry the style, elevating it to casual elegance. Heather joined her and flipped through the selection of shirts, the metal tops of the plastic hangers screeching in protest as they scraped along the metal rod. The colors and patterns blended together as they flew by. She barely noticed.
It was all the routine of window shopping and retail browsing. The fun had gone out of shopping several years ago. Her closet was full of trendy clothes, ranging from casual to classy, but she usually wore scrubs for work. Most evenings, it seemed silly to change when she was at home alone. It took long hours to be a successful surgeon at Tabor’s level, and he only managed to spend the evening at home once or twice a week. She knew better than most the demands of the healthcare industry. Her own career in Physical Therapy had required years of education and practical experience. Settled into a practice now for the past few years, her schedule was reliably consistent.
A man in jeans, wearing a leather vest over a buttoned-down tan shirt, sat on a stool behind a long wooden counter. Heather couldn’t help but notice the enormous square golden-tone belt buckle with elaborate designs. He leaned back on the stool as he chewed on a toothpick sticking out of his mouth, shifting it from one side to the other as he spoke. A second, taller man, also wearing jeans and a leather vest, but also sporting a straw cowboy hat, leaned on the counter, nodding.
“Help ya, hon?” The man behind the counter raised his voice a few decibels, pointing toward Leslie with his chin.
“Oh, no, thank you. I’m just looking.” Leslie smiled at the two men.
“You okay? Help ya find anything special?” The proprietor looked at Moirin, who looked up and shook her head.
He assumed Heather wasn’t looking to buy anything in his store. Either that, or, despite only being a couple of years older, she’d reached the point of middle-aged invisibility.
“That scarf would be real pretty with your eyes.” The cowboy with the hat said, smiling at Leslie.
“What do you think? Leslie looked at Heather.
She shrugged. Fashion was more Moirin’s expertise. Scrubs were easy to match every morning. Anything more complicated and she’d need a personal shopper to help.
Leslie walked to a mirror and tossed the silky scarf around her neck, flipping her hair to bring the silk against her skin. It fell perfectly in a way that would take Heather ten minutes and three YouTube videos to accomplish.
The cowboy gave a low wolf whistle and smiled at Leslie again. She blushed and pulled at one end of the scarf, letting it slide off and pool into her hand.
He winked and returned to his conversation with the proprietor.
Heather stepped over to the window and peered out. Seeing that Jo was still at the table across the street, she stepped outside, waiting in the shade for Leslie and Moirin to exit, wondering idly if Leslie would purchase the scarf. Maybe if the smiling cowboy offered another compliment. She seemed oblivious to the cowboy’s flirting, yet was often prone to impulse buys.
Leslie exited, clutching a small bag, and Moirin followed behind her with a much larger one. Heather smiled. She bought the scarf. Moirin may have influenced Leslie more than the flirty cowboy. There was nothing wrong with that. Moirin was an excellent role model, and it would do Leslie good to be more like her, if somewhat less in spending. Moirin came from wealth that the Leslie and Heather could only dream about.
“It looks like there’s a grocery store down the street. Should we walk down and pick up something for tonight?” Heather asked.
“That sounds good. We should refill their coffee supply as well,” Moirin said. “You’ll have to let us know what else we can do for our hosts to show our appreciation.”
“Hey, where’s Jo?” Leslie looked around, glancing back into the store and squinting.
Heather pointed across the street to where Jo still sat on the bench, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other gesturing in the air. “She’s talking to one of her brothers. She said she’d catch up.”
“Okay. Well, it’s a small town. It’s not like she’ll get lost, and worst case, we’ll meet back at the car,” Leslie said, sliding her sunglasses on.
“I hope everything is okay. She’s been talking to him a long time,” Heather said.
“If it’s not, we’re here for her. In the meantime, let’s go to the store.” Moirin’s voice was firm and decisive. She pulled her sunglasses down from where they rested on top of her head, then turned. “Speed walk?”
“I think I’ll plod along and give Jo time to catch up.” Heather dangled her fingers downward and waved her hands, shoo’ing them away, as if she were encouraging children to run to the playground.
They scurried down the sidewalk, leaving Heather to amble behind, along with others heading the same direction. She enjoyed the leisurely walk, still concerned that Jo hadn’t joined them yet. As she arrived at the store, a farmers’ market was set up in the parking lot. Throngs of people milled around the tents and tables, talking with vendors and examining goods for sale. The air was filled with the competing scents of smoked meats, flowers, scented soaps, and sugar.
She spotted Moirin at one of the first booths in the center, where she was perusing organic honey and hand-blended spices. Heather joined her, accepting the butternut squash ginger cookie the vendor offered.
“Where’s Leslie?” Heather asked, looking around at the adjoining booths.
“She wanted to do the grocery shopping while I browsed here. You know how Jo loves to cook, and it’s never too early to start Christmas shopping.”
Heather laughed. “You mean you’re not stocking your kitchen with exotic spices and a crazy-looking rolling pin?”
“Ha. You know me better than that. You and I would split second place if we were the only entrants in a toast-making competition.” Moirin pulled the rolling pin from under her arm. “And this lovely item is Norwegian. The detail is called rosemaling. The rolling pin imprints this intricate pattern on dough. I thought Jo would love it.”
Heather examined the craftsmanship. “It’s lovely,” she said, handing it back.
“Well, I’m done here, I think. Should we check on Leslie?” Moirin nodded to the vendor as she left, Heather following.
The last booth at the corner had a large sign encouraging adoptions and donations to the local animal shelter. Heather shivered. Most animals of the domestic house-pet variety were, at best, dirty and noisy. At their worst, they were terrifying and dangerous, as unpredictable as livestock and beasts in the wild. She cautiously stepped around Moirin to walk on the outside, leaving her friend as a buffer to the potentially vicious creatures.
As they passed, a long-haired chocolate-and-ivory-colored cat stared at them intently with bright blue eyes that seemed too intelligent to be natural. Her stomach churned, and her heart jumped as Moirin turned and reached down.
“Don’t,” she couldn’t contain the warning before it croaked from her mouth.
Moirin smiled as she reached down and stroked the animal. Heather took a half-step backward, as Moirin murmured to the cat. From that safe distance, Heather could appreciate the beauty of the animal, which had obviously survived major injuries. He had missing patches of fur on his back, near his chocolate-colored tail, and the back of his right leg. It seemed to limp as it walked back and forth under Moirin’s hand.
“He must sense that you’re quite a cat-lover. I’ve never seen Orson respond to anyone like that.” A young man wearing a red t-shirt with “Furry Friends Animal Rescue Volunteer" printed across the front stood by the cat on the other side of the table. He looked at Moirin with an expression of amazement and respect.
“Orson?”
“Yes, that’s his name. He’s a Birman. It’s a beautiful breed, and normally very social, but this guy’s had a tough time this year. He shies away from people till he susses them out.”
“He looks like he's had some injuries. Do you know what happened?” Heather edged closer as Moirin stroked Orson’s ears.
