The Parent Plan. Paula Riggs Detmer
room.
“Best not try to take his pants,” the younger cowpuncher had counseled, before he, too, had abandoned her.
A wild stallion Cassidy had been set on breaking had tried to return the favor, and Cassidy had ended up at the receiving end of the horse’s flashing, steel-shod hooves. Still wearing his chaps over frayed jeans and dusty boots, he’d been all but out of his mind with pain from a gash in his forehead, a severe concussion and four broken ribs, one of which had been dangerously close to puncturing a lung.
While Karen helped the nurse with his vitals, he’d told them in no uncertain terms what they could do with their pain medication, threatened Karen with unspeakable horror if she so much as reached for the buttons on his fly and worked hard on turning the air blue in the small treatment cubicle, earning him a severe rebuke from a tough ex-army nurse by the name of Helga Tutt. He’d also gone down in history at Vanderbilt Memorial as holding the unofficial record for consecutive curses without a single repetition.
It had been love at first sight—on her part, at least. But when they’d started dating, Cassidy’s motivation had been far more direct—he’d wanted to take her to bed. While she’d been weaving romantic dreams, he’d been skillfully knocking down her virginal defenses one by one. And yet, when she’d told him about the baby, he’d kissed her with great tenderness before informing her in his usual brusque manner that they would be getting married as soon as the law allowed.
“You were beautiful that day, Kari,” her mother remarked quietly, drawing Karen’s gaze. “Truly radiant.”
“I was scared to death!”
“So was Cassidy. I’ve never quite seen that shade of white in a man’s face before.”
Karen felt a lump forming in her throat as she recalled the possessive note in his voice as he’d repeated the vows. Her own voice had been barely audible and more than a little shaky. At one point, she’d stumbled over the words, and Cassidy had given her icy hand a reassuring squeeze that had calmed her.
She’d been giddy with happiness for a long time after that. Cassidy had made no secret of his determination to grant her every wish, and he had, she reminded herself as she settled in the chair opposite her mother’s—until she’d made the decision when Vicki was nearly three to return to medical school for her final two years.
He’d changed after that. Each day he’d seemed to draw more tightly into himself until she’d come to feel as though she were living with a taciturn, polite—and terribly remote—roommate instead of the man she adored.
After taking a sip of the now tepid coffee, she asked brightly, “So what did you decide to wear to the reception tomorrow night?”
Her mother tossed her a saucy grin that took years from her face. “What else? My little black dress and pearls.”
“Of course.” Karen recalled with fondness the hours of her youth that she and her mother had spent discussing fashion and style.
“I wish Olivia was going to be at the party,” Sylvia murmured after a long moment of silence. “She and I used to tease each other about who wore pearls most often.” Sylvia drew a sad breath. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
Karen toyed with her coffee cup, centering it on her knee, tracing the handle, then repositioning it on the chair arm. Olivia Stuart and her mother had been friends for years—since the days when their girls had been in grade school together and almost as close as sisters.
Now pictures of Eve’s mom flitted gently though her mind. For all her grace and innate charm, Grand Springs’ mayor had been a strong advocate for the underdog. She’d also been a wonderful role model, especially for young women and girls, like Vicki and Olivia’s own beloved granddaughter, Molly.
“It doesn’t seem possible that a wonderful person like her should have been murdered.”
Her eyes dulled by sadness, Sylvia shook her head. “I talked to Rio the other afternoon when he came in to make a payment on his truck loan. He said that the police have pretty much exhausted the leads in the case.”
Karen heaved a weary sigh. As a doctor, she dealt with death nearly every day, in one way or another, but that didn’t make it any easier when the Grim Reaper struck so close to home.
“I’m sure Eve and Rio will be at the party. Maybe Rio’s work at the Grand Springs Herald has turned up new information.”
Sylvia let out a long breath. “If there is any new information. It seems to me things like this go on forever, and sometimes they’re never really satisfactorily solved. That disturbs me almost as much as losing Olivia did.” She shrugged a slender shoulder. “What a pathetic tribute to someone’s life.” She crooked her elegant fingers to indicate quotations marks. “‘Case pending.’ No sense of closure. No sense of justice being done. It makes a person wonder what it’s all about. You know?”
Karen understood, perhaps better than her mother realized. What was it all about? She’d been asking herself that question a lot lately. She had no answers.
As if Sylvia sensed how gloomy her daughter was feeling, she declared firmly, “Enough depressing stuff. Tell me about your new dress. You never did tell me what you bought.”
“Probably because there’s nothing to tell. I don’t have anything new.”
Sylvia arched an eyebrow. “But I thought that’s the reason you and Vicki made a special trip to the mall last month.”
Karen grinned and rolled her eyes. “That was the plan, yes, but remember me, the mother of a precocious soon-to-be nine-year-old? I’d swear she was thirteen going on twenty-five, listening to her talk. Barbie dolls are definitely behind us, I’m afraid. Now she’s lusting after makeup and heels with a gleam in her eye that will probably throw Cassidy into cardiac arrest when he realizes what’s on her mind.”
Sylvia chuckled. “She is shooting up fast, isn’t she?”
“Yes, scary, isn’t it? Anyway, by the time we settled on the absolutely perfect party dress, we’d run out of time to look for something for me.”
This time Sylvia’s cup clattered impatiently when she returned it to its saucer. “For heaven’s sake, Karen, why didn’t you tell me you were short on time? You know I leap at any opportunity to shop. I’m sure I could have found you something appropriate.”
“And expensive, no doubt,” Karen returned with a rueful shake of her head.
Sylvia arched a graceful brow again as she said airily, “Of course. After all, you’re the wife of one of our area’s most successful ranchers. You deserve the best, my sweet. Something with enough sizzle to make that tall, dark and handsome husband of yours want to rip it right off you when he sees you wearing it.”
Karen nearly choked on her coffee. “Mother!”
“Don’t ‘Mother’ me, Karen McCormick Moore Sloane. As you just said, Vicki is going to be nine at the end of April. It’s time she had a baby brother or sister to spoil. Otherwise, she might end up as set in her ways as you are.”
“If only it were that easy,” Karen muttered, dropping her gaze. She would not cry. She simply would NOT.
There was a weighty silence before her mother said softly, “Darling, I was just joking. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended.” Karen closed her eyes against the sudden sting of hot tears.
“Karen? What’s wrong?”
Her mother’s soft cry shredded Karen’s brave front “Oh, Mom, I’m so scared. I think my marriage is in terrible trouble, and I don’t have a clue what to do to fix it.”
Sylvia uttered a soft sound of dismay. “Oh, dear.”
Karen lifted a hand to dash away the tears trembling on her lashes, then steeled herself to meet her mother’s gaze.