Page 50 of Call it Fate

She gave me one of herI-see-through-youlooks. “If you say so.” She pulled her reading glasses from her face and put them on the desk. “You know I’m proud of you, right? You’re the best daughter a mother could ask for, and you’re a good mama.”

“Thank you.” I peered at her more closely, noting the new lines that crinkled around her eyes and a few gray hairs at her temple. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t tell you that enough.” She held up her hand when I started to speak. “You’re so amazing at all those things, but I fear it’s come at a price, and I’m partially to blame.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean that you’ve put Iain and The Dogtrot ahead of your own needs, and I’m ashamed to say you’ve put mine ahead of yours, too. You’re a young woman, sugarplum. Too young to spend it alone, doing nothing but working yourself to the bone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Oh, darlin’ girl, don’t play innocent with me. You need someone in your life who can be your partner. Someone who puts you on a pedestal and loves your little boy. I heard what you were saying to Cameron yesterday. You don’t owe Zachary Abbott anything, including moving to North Carolina.”

I started to protest, but once again, she shushed me with a finger. “But,” she came around the desk and rested her hands on my shoulders, “ if youwantto build a life with him away from here, you do that. Have the life you want, where you want, and with whom you want.”

“But what about The Dogtrot?” I finally got to ask the only other person who truly understood the question that had been bandied about by everyone else who knew.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll make do just like all the generations before us did. The Dogtrot became an opportunity for the women in our family to have a sense of financial freedom. Do you think they’d want to see you use it to tie yourself down? It was never meant to be a burden.”

“I’m not sure what I want,” I confessed.

“Only you can decide that. But don’t let anyone else decide it for you. Not The Dogtrot, not me, not even Zach.”

“I won’t.”

She nodded and pulled me in for a hug. “I love you, Mama,” I whispered in her ear, inhaling her soft lavender scent that was always so familiar and comforting no matter how old I was.

“I love you, too, sugarplum. Now, go and enjoy your lunch. We’ve got things covered here.”

* * *

With more eagernessthan I wanted to admit, I opened the door to Simply Ruth’s, immediately scanning the diner for Zach. I saw several familiar faces, most of whom gave me a smile and a wave.

“Emalee, dear. How are you?”

I looked toward a table near the entrance and saw Harriet Bergenstock, the woman who would unfairly go down in Sterling Mill history as the creator behind the Derby Day Debacle. She’d planned it for years and it had always gone off without a hitch. But that wouldn’t be remembered, at least as long as Beverly Seymour had a voice. Their rivalry was legend.

“I was hoping to see you sometime. I heard you’re the one taking my place as the committee chair for Derby Day.” She peered over her half glasses at me, causing me to feel like a little girl who was about to be yelled at by the librarian for being too loud.

I cleared my throat. “It seems that way, yes.”

Harriet grunted. “Well, I guess you’ll do. At leastshe’snot planning it herself.” She glanced at her peers. “Can you imagine what she’d plan? She’d probably have some kind of pie or flower competition.”

Not bad ideas,I thought, trying not to be offended by her first statement. But, of course, I kept my mouth shut. “Beverly mentioned you have a notebook with a list of past sponsors and other things. Would you be willing to share it with me?”

Her mouth set in a hard line. “Of course, she did. She’s hoping if I give it to you, she can steal all my hard work and use it for the Bluegrass Festival that she’s in charge of. She’s miffed her barbecue sauce isn’t as good as mine.” Harriet peered at the rest of the ladies at the table. “That woman couldn’t make a good sauce if it came out of a bottle.” Her friends quickly nodded their agreement.

She was referring to our fall celebration, Milling About Barbecue and Bluegrass Festival. I kept my mouth closed. There was no way I was getting involved in their quarrel.

She peered through her glasses that sat on the end of her sharp nose, and I was quickly regretting I’d brought up the subject. “I’ll tell you what.”

Her voice chattered on, but I’d stopped hearing anything. I’d finally spied a familiar dark-haired head at a back table, already engrossed in a conversation. I narrowed my eyes as I saw him laugh and smile brightly at the blonde whose back was to me, but even from behind, there was no mistaking the pretty figure that was shown off by a pair of very skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater.

“Emalee, are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” I swung my eyes back to Mrs. B, who frowned at me. “I said I’ll dropsomeof my notes off to you this week. My gracious, girl, I hope you pay more attention to the derby details than you have to me.”

I heard the admonition in her voice. “I’m sorry, Mrs. B. I’m supposed to meet someone here, and I just saw him.”

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