Page 16 of Hometown Girl

“That this is how you’d react. She actually argued with me. Said maybe you’d surprise us. But of course this is what you’d say—you’re always finding ways to shoot down my ideas.”

With good reason.

Lilian folded her hands in her lap. “Girls, please. You know I hate it when you argue.”

Beth glanced at their mom, the memory of her stroke flooding her mind. Beth didn’t approve of Molly’s plan, but she had to keep it together—for their mother’s sake.

“I said I thought the idea was interesting, and I do,” Lilian said. “I hadn’t thought of including Ben, but that’s just brilliant.”

Ben nearly choked on his burger. Maybe now Beth would get a little support.

“Itis, Ben,” Molly said. “You are a landscape architect, after all.”

Beth shook her head. “Why would you think I’d have any other reaction to all of this than the one I’m having?”

Their mother’s face fell. “It’s like I told you before, Beth. You just don’t seem very happy. And you haven’t for a long time.”

Molly glanced at Beth. “See? I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“So you guys have been talking about this?”

“No, of course not,” their mom said.

“I think you like it here, but I don’t think you like your job,” Molly said. “And maybe you just need someone to tell you there’s no shame in not wanting to move to Chicago and have some big, fancy life like Michael.”

Beth shifted at the mention of his name—a name that still held far too much power over her. It had been six years since she’d left Michael, and she still nursed her broken heart. The really sad part was, if she hadn’t caught him that day, she’d probably still be with him, waiting for the ring, the wedding, the big, overpriced house.

In some ways, she still was. Waiting for her life to begin.

But she didn’t like being reminded of it. At all.

“We can do this together.” Molly smiled. “It’ll be fun.”

Beth met her sister’s eyes. “And that is the problem. You think this is going to be fun.”

“What? It could be.” She dropped her napkin on her plate and stood.

“It’s going to be expensive and hard and frustrating. Do you know anything about running a farm?”

“Well, it’s not arealfarm. It’s not like I’m going to be milking cows at dawn or something, though I would like to get a pair of wellies. You know those rubber boots you wear in the mud?” Molly walked to the window and stared out across their parents’ backyard. “It’ll be like it was, you know, when we were kids.”

Beth could see the sadness in her sister’s hunched shoulders. None of them talked about it much, but they all missed their dad. He’d always had a way of pulling them together. Beth understood the desire to put everything back the way it used to be, but despite what Molly thought, Beth didn’t crave the simple life. She’d fallen into it by accident—and, she supposed, had never found the courage to leave.

But Molly? She didn’t seem to have any plans for something more. Ever. She was a hopeless romantic—and her perfect love stories were always set in their small midwestern town.

Beth met her sister at the window and followed Molly’s gaze to the old oak tree in the backyard. The lonely tire swing hung below, moving ever so slightly in the spring breeze. How many days had they spent out in that yard, waiting for their dad to come home and push them on that swing? He’d make up silly songs while he pushed, and their mom would watch from the porch. It was like something out of another time, as if the world outside Willow Grove had moved forward and they’d all stayed happily rooted in the past.

“Molly, I know you’re looking for your place, trying to figure out how to spend the rest of your life, and I’m not trying to discourage you from doing that.”

“Aren’t you?” Molly turned to her. “You hated the idea before I got the words out of my mouth. You won’t even consider that this could be exactly what we’ve been waiting for.”

Beth shook her head and stared at the swing. “I haven’t been waiting for anything except for Mom to get better.”

Molly wrapped her arms around herself. “Then go, Beth. Go to Chicago and find your own impressive job and make a ton of money. Tell me that’s really what you want.”

“I didn’t say that’s what I wanted.” Beth could feel her jaw tighten. It was, though, wasn’t it? Or maybe not what she wanted, but what she thought she should do. Yet she couldn’t—and she would never tell Molly why.

She stared at her sister for a few long moments, and then Molly grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and sighed. “I should’ve known better than to tell you. You’ve always been the first one to throw cold water on my dreams.”

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