“You’re Bodine-Longbow family now.”
Touched, Jessica bumped her shoulder to Bodine’s. “And as such, I’m determined to make this event another highlight of Bertie Cumberland’s life. Speaking of families, how’s it going for you?”
“It’s up and down, but maintaining for longer periods.” Hooking a thumb in the front pocket of her jeans, Bodine took a long look around. “Since things are under control here, I’m actually going to head home pretty much now, work from there the rest of the day. It took some arm-twisting, but I talked Nana and Grammy into going out, getting their hair done, taking a few hours. Clementine will be there, and between her and me, we can look after Alice.”
“It’s a lot.”
“It’s miles of a lot. And it’s family.”
“I get bits and pieces from Chase—but you know how he is.”
“I do. I also know he’s happy. And while he doesn’t say much, he does. Yesterday he saddled up Mom’s and Dad’s horses and pushed them, in that way he has of pushing, into taking a ride together. They like their date nights, and haven’t taken one since Alice came back. That’s how he fixed it.”
Bodine let out a sigh as they began to walk. “And Chase and Callen dragged Rory over to the bunkhouse for poker last week when he was overwhelmed with Alice.”
“Chase said she has accepted Rory’s not hers.”
Nodding, Bodine watched a couple of guests playing horseshoes. So normal, she thought, so everyday.
“She seems to have settled there, but even a week ago, she thought—or needed to think—he was hers. They got him away from it for a few hours.”
“What gets you away from it?”
“This.” Bodine gestured to expand the resort. “And Callen’s a good listener. So are you.”
“Anytime.”
“We should go dancing again. The six of us.” That one night at the Roundup seemed like a lifetime ago. “Rory’s still seeing Chelsea off and on.”
“I’m there, anytime. Except this weekend,” Jessica qualified. “This event is going to—” She glanced at her watch. “Oh God! I need to check on the welcome buffet, and airport pickups.”
“I’ll confirm the airport pickups on my way through. Any problem, consider it fixed before I head home.”
“Thanks. Bo, if you need any help. A hair day, a shopping day, just a bitch day, I’m your girl.” Jessica took off at a trot on her pink pumps. “But not this weekend!” she called back.
*
When she got home, loaded with paperwork, Bodine put it aside. She needed both hands and all her will to shove the grannies out of the house.
Once she had—and she watched until they’d driven out of sight—she swung through the dining room, where Clementine polished the big table.
“Are you sure they’re not doubling back?”
Blowing out a breath, Bodine dropped into a chair. “Pretty sure. I’m giving it a couple minutes before I go up, get into the work I brought home. Nana said Alice was resting, that her morning session seemed to go well.”
“As far as I can tell. I’ll tell you this. Getting your grannies out for the afternoon’s the best thing all around. Alice needs a little distance, too, if you ask me.”
Satisfied with the table, Clementine started on the big sideboard.
“Did they fight like that a lot?” Bodine asked. “Alice and Mom, like the other night? When they were kids?”
“They had their spats and their blowups, too. Likely as not, Alice got it going, but your ma got her licks in. Your ma liked being the oldest, I can tell you that. Lorded it some.”
Fascinated, amused, Bodine propped her chin on her fist. “Really?”
“Oh, she wasn’t above some I was here firsting. But she’d fall back on Alice getting away with something because she was the baby, just like Alice whined her head off about your ma getting away with stuff because she was older. I’ve heard the same from you and your brothers over the years.”
Clementine paused to point a long finger at Bodine. “You weren’t above pulling those middle-child or only-girl cards when it suited you.”
“Sometimes it worked.” Bodine lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Sometimes it didn’t. But did they like each other, Clem? Love’s different. I love Chase and Rory, but I like them, too. I can get mad at them, slap and snap, but I like them.”
“I think they did. They could be tight as a pair of tangled-up springs one minute and at each other the next. Laughing together and telling secrets five minutes after they were shouting and shoving. Cora had the patience of Job keeping up with two moody girls.”
Clementine polished, turning the air into an orange grove. “Once when your ma was pregnant with Chase, I found her sitting upstairs alone, crying. Crying and rubbing that little bump she had going. She said she wanted her sister, wanted Alice. You know they picked the names of their first babies?”
“What? How?”
“When they were girls, they let each other pick the name of their first son, first daughter. Charles after your great-grandfather, and Maureen was to call him Chase. And Maureen picked Rory for Alice after their daddy. Bodine for Maureen if she had a girl. Cora for Alice.”
Carefully Clementine set the big pewter candle stands back on the server. “I’d say they meant a lot to each other, as they both stuck by that, even when the other wasn’t around to know.”
“No one ever told me that.”
“I don’t know who knew besides them and me. They told me so it was official.” Turning back, Clementine smiled. “I guess they were around twelve and fourteen.”
“I’m glad you told me. It helps me see them.” She pushed up. “I’m going to haul my briefcase up and get started. I’ll check on Alice before I do.”
“You’re a good girl, Bodine, at least half the time.”
“That’ll have to do.”
As she got her things, started upstairs, Bodine thought of her mother at fourteen making a pact with her sister, a pact that would become a family. And of Alice at twelve dreaming of babies the way a young girl might. Of Alice having those babies alone in some maniac’s basement. Of having those babies, who might have given her some comfort, taken from her.
She was now determined to be more patient, more kind for Alice’s sake alone. Not just from worry for her grannies, for her mother, but for Alice, who’d once been twelve.
Then she saw Alice, gray-streaked hair hanging limp, eyes wild and angry. And the scissors snapping and shining in her hand.
“Alice.” She had to firmly slide the word over the lump of panic in her throat. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s all wrong. All of it. I don’t like it. I don’t like it. I don’t want it.”
“Okay. What don’t you like? What don’t you want? I can try to help.” Hoping her tone sounded easy and unforced, Bodine tried a step forward.
“I can say it’s wrong!” Alice jabbed the air with the scissors, stopped Bodine in her tracks. “I can say I hate it. The doctor said. She said, she said.”