“I don’t know about that.” She chuckled and caught my eye.
I sent her a disbelieving look. “Oh, come now. You can be honest. The older I get, the more I put value on honesty, even if it’s unflattering.” I turned the car around instead of backing out of the long driveway.
“I will say this . . .” Her mouth twisted with a smile she seemed to be struggling against. “I am glad to see Jennifer out of yellow dresses.”
Barking a laugh, I turned left at the end of the drive. “Yes. Honestly, me too. And I’m happy with my new wardrobe as well.”
“I was wondering about that.”
“What’s that?” I glanced at her, then back at the road.
“Oh, you know. You’re wearing more pantsuits these days than those dresses you used to favor.”
“I like a good pantsuit. I like how tailored jackets fit—I always have. But I like dresses, too.” Kip had always insisted Jennifer and I wear dresses, and so I’d insisted because it was his will, and my job as his wife was to obey.
But the truth was, I didn’t always obey.
I’d snuck a few pantsuits into my office at the Lodge, sometimes changing when I got to work and changing again before heading home. I’d felt guilty then. I did not feel guilty now.
During my married years, when I needed an extra boost to my confidence in a business situation, I wore a pantsuit. It made me feel powerful, especially when most of the men in business I dealt with had a mind to bully me just because I was a woman.
I didn’t feel powerful when I’d allowed my husband to dictate my wardrobe. But I refused to dislike dresses just because Kip had been tyrannical about his wife and daughter wearing them. I wouldn’t let him take dresses from me. If I felt like wearing a dress, then I was going to wear a dress. And if I wanted to wear sexy black dresses with low cut square necklines, then I would certainly—
“Did I say something wrong?”
“What? Oh. No. Nothing.” I reached over and patted her knee. “I was just thinking about unpleasant times, but that’s all in the past now. Tell me what you’re thinking for the flowers.”
Ashley tucked her long, dark hair behind her ear and gave me a smile. “I have ideas, but I want to show you pictures. Do you have time when we get back? I have the rest of the afternoon off.”
“Yes. I have no more meetings this afternoon. Let’s have some tea and pick out flower arrangements.”
The only Winston daughter sighed happily. “I love flowers. Not growing them, obviously. I don’t know that I can grow any flowers expect maybe in a wild field. But I do love getting flowers.”
“Hopefully that man of yours brings you flowers.”
“He does. Often.” She said this dreamily and with a dazed smile on her face.
“He’s a good man,” I said, nodding at my own assertion just as whisper of a prior conversation echoed in my head.
“You are a bad man.” I said this to my empty plate, unable to look directly at him. The weight of his blatantly admiring stare felt too heavy.
“I am a bad man,” he said frankly, his tone pleased, but then added with a hint of introspection, “And you’re a good woman.”
Now I felt silly about being upset Jason hadn’t texted or called. He’d told me plenty of times that he was a bad man, hadn’t he? Do bad men call? No, no they don’t.
Heaving a sad sigh, I shook my head. “Ah well . . .”
“Now I really wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” Ashley turned in her seat to face me. “You’ve been sighing half of the afternoon and distracted for the other half of it.”
“Oh . . . nothing.” I waved away my silliness and chuckled. “I tried something and it didn’t work, and I guess I’m disappointed.”
“What did you try?”
“Nothing that matters at the end of the road, but maybe something that would’ve made the journey more fun.” I flicked on the blinker and turned into the Donner Lodge, pulling around the building to park by the bakery. I liked parking at the bakery when Jennifer was working. It gave me an excuse to stop by and steal a hug.
As usual, I backed into a spot during daylight hours because I didn’t like backing out when it was dark. “I know Monsieur Auclair has questions about the bridal shower, too. Are you sure you don’t want to have it hosted here?”
Ashley gasped and I felt her hand close over mine. “Diane, don’t look up.”
I stiffened, but I did as I was told. “What? Why not?”
“Mr. Sylvester is here, and so is Mr. Miller. And they’re both looking right at us.”
My stomach dropped as acid shot up my esophagus. “Damn.”
I really, really, really couldn’t wait to leave this town.
Chapter Ten
*Diane*
“It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.”
Oriah, Mountain Dreamer
“Pants, Diane? Really?” Kip made a disapproving sound. “With your thighs?”
I ignored the jab at my vanity and affixed my attention to Mr. Miller as Ashley and I met them at the edge of the parking lot. We’d purposefully walked toward the administration building and away from the bakery. They’d intercepted us.
“How can I help you, Miller?” I asked, reminding myself to be calm and sound calm.
“I am here to plead Mr. Miller’s case.” Like one of those chihuahuas, Kip didn’t know how to keep his yap shut.
“Are you?” Ashley’s question positively dripped with disdain.
“I am. Diane is holding his cows ransom and he would like them back.”
I blinked once, sending my evil ex a cold stare. I had no plans to dignify his tomfoolery with a response. Miller wanted his cows back; that was true. He’d been pestering me about it for months. But everything else about Kip’s claim was unequivocally false.
“Mr. Miller, that’s very unfair.” Ashely set her hands on her hips. “Ms. Donner purchased those cows from you at auction for an exorbitant price, but she paid it. And then you insisted she take the cows that very week or else you would charge her a fee—”
Miller lifted a finger. “Now, that was not my—”
Ashley spoke over him. “Which she did. She and Cletus have done a fine job of turning things around considering everything—getting that barn moved, branding, distributing the milk, showing up at farmer’s markets, selling direct to local businesses. The Donner Dairy has become a huge success, a star in the crown of the Lodge along with the bakery. And now you want the cows back? No, sir!”
I smiled at the pavement, enjoying Ashley’s fervor. I knew her indignation stemmed from how hard her brother Cletus had worked to make the dairy a success rather than how I’d paid entirely too much for the cows. But still, I’d grown weary of Miller’s pleas on the subject. He’d been after me for almost a year, calling, emailing, showing up here during work hours, calling me heartless, begging. It was nice to have someone else tell him no.