Page 20 of Grown-Up Second Chance

“I’m laughing at the story,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re okay. There are too many people in the park who aren’t aware of their surroundings, or even how to interact with the environment they’re in. They come from a city or suburbia and expect the animals to behave like the neighborhood cat.”

“True.” Kathleen nodded. “Even in our area, especially with the hunters in the fall, some of them don’t even understand basic courtesy. They think they can go blasting their guns anywhere without a friendly knock at the door.”

“Montana’s changing,” Joe agreed.

“What were you up to today?” I asked, interrupting Kathleen’s inevitable rant about how the state had deteriorated since we were kids in the 1970s.

“This and that,” he said. “I got up early and went fishing.”

“Fly or casting?” Kathleen asked.

“Fly. It’s great when I catch one, but it isn’t the purpose of fly fishing, is it?”

“So you got all duded up with that gear from Orvis and such?”

“Nah,” Joe said with a grin. “Basic Bob Ward’s waders. I’ve got a rod of my dad’s. Some of the other stuff I picked up used here and there. Flies are about the only thing I buy new.”

“I’m a casting gal, myself,” Kathleen said.

I was tempted to close my eyes and take another nap.

“To each his … or her … own,” Joe said gently. “Fly fishing is something my dad and I do whenever we get together.”

I’d never had that. Kathleen had shadowed my dad, and Liz got her artistic talent from my mother. I’d been the odd kid out, in spite of being the oldest.

“How long are you planning on being on the road?” Liz asked him.

“Until mid-September,” Joe replied. “That’s when I get to move into my new cabin in Ennis.”

“Big change from Butte,” Kathleen said.

“It is. But I’ve been planning it for a while. I wanted a slower pace. And there’s good fishing around there, too.” Joe grinned as he rose from his seat. “Nice chatting. See you around.” He nodded at Kathleen and Liz. “Don’t forget we’re going to see some sights together,” he said to me.

With a wave, he headed back down the park road, giving me another chance to admire how he’d maintained the easy walk of his youth.

And the way his jeans fit.

“Ooooh!” Kathleen said. “There’s still something between you two.”

“You have an over-active imagination.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied.

I got up and refreshed my drink. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Not really,” she said. “Without the ranch to take care of, I have all the time in the world to meddle.”

“Well, meddle somewhere else. I’m done with men and love. I’m even taking a pass on lust.”

Kathleen laughed. “I saw how you watched him walk down the road. You are soooo not done with lust.”

“I don’t need another project. And a man is always a project.”

“You got that right,” Kathleen said, raising her glass. “Here’s to the O’Sullivan sisters, single and loving it for the rest of our days.”

We drank, but Liz didn’t join in.

“Is there something we don’t know about?” Kathleen asked.

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