Mrs. Palmer stiffened and composed herself. “Not nearly as terrible for me as for Adam. He lived a neglected childhood, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. He almost ruined his life, but with the kindness of other adults, he found his way. Somethin’s wrong now—and I can help. Let me keep helpin’, Brooke, dear. Don’t tell him I’m well, or he might get it into his head to leave, thinkin’ I don’t need him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I do need him. It’s been so wonderful havin’ him home.”
Brooke didn’t need to think long. “I won’t say anything, I promise.”
Mrs. Palmer briefly closed her eyes. “Oh, thank you. Now you better go before he gets suspicious.” She looked around frantically. “Ah, here’s Connie’s coffee cake. Take some to your mama, and that’ll be a good excuse for dawdlin’.”
After she’d put half on a paper plate and covered it in foil, their hands met as they exchanged the cake.
“Thank you so much, Brooke,” Mrs. Palmer said. “I hope the lies don’t weigh on you.”
“They won’t.” But she wondered . . .
When she climbed back into the pickup truck, Adam looked at her with concern. “I almost came in. She didn’t fall, did she?”
When he studied her closely, she only gave him a bright smile and stared out the windshield. “Nope, she just wanted to give my mom some coffee cake.”
On the drive home, she thought about her promise to remain silent. It wasn’t hurting Adam to think his grandma was getting feeble. She was in her late seventies and not the same as she used to be. And Brooke was getting lots of practice misrepresenting herself, lately.
But if she had any doubts, all she had to do was conjure up the images Mrs. Palmer had evoked, of Adam so neglected as a child. She knew he was keeping something from her, something that weighed on him. She would keep this truth about his grandma to herself in response and hope that Mrs. Palmer had it right.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday afternoon, Brooke drove into Valentine and parked in the alley behind Sugar and Spice. She knocked on the back door, and Emily let her up the rear staircase to her second-floor apartment. Brooke walked down the little hallway, past the two bedrooms and the galley kitchen into the long room that was part dining room, part living room. Monica sat folding boxes from flattened cardboard into usable containers.
A huge picture window overlooked Main Street. Emily had several fake candles in the windows, little ceramic Christmas decorations on the tables, and a Christmas tree in the front corner. The decorations actually looked handmade, to Brooke’s bemusement.
Emily sighed. “Guess I should have waited on the tree. But I like to have one the weekend after Thanksgiving.”
“You and Nate can cut down another one at the ranch,” Brooke said, putting her arm briefly around Emily’s shoulders. “Leave this one here. I imagine you’ll be up here occasionally during the workday, right?”
“Of course,” Emily said, obviously relieved. “Smart thinking.” Then she sat down on the couch beside Monica and let her shoulders slump.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Brooke demanded, coming to sit in the chair across the coffee table from them.
Monica put down the packing tape. “Spill it, girlfriend.”
“Poor Steph,” Emily began.
Brooke thought of the girl driving that horse trailer from one ranch to another, across town. “She didn’t get in an accident, did she?”
“Oh, no, no—it’s actually her . . . friend, Tyler.”
“They looked pretty close Friday night,” Monica said. “Like more than friends.”
“I know,” Emily said grimly. “And that’s what makes it worse. My father said he caught Tyler joyriding on one of his ATVs at the Sweet Ranch. He ran into a rock hidden under the snow and bent an axle. His ‘friends’ abandoned him on other ATVs, also stolen, but later found undamaged. Dad was pretty upset. He couldn’t just let him go—there was damage done.”
“Of course he couldn’t,” Brooke soothed. “Tyler has to learn the consequences of his actions.”
“So Dad called the sheriff, and a deputy took Tyler away. I didn’t want Steph to hear this as a rumor, so I went to her privately and told her what had happened. She started to cry, and begged me not to tell our father she’d been seeing Tyler. She believes he can come around and that she can help him, but if Dad forbids it . . .”
Brooke groaned and ran a hand down her face. “Oh, this is my fault. When she first told me about Tyler, I suggested she invite him to the Chess Club. I practically threw them together.”