McKettricks of Texas: Tate by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-06-15T16:00:00+00:00

BY THE NEXT DAY, Libby was entirely recovered from her mother’s unexpected visit the night before, and mostly over making such an idiot of herself out at the Ruizes’ place after Pablo’s funeral.

She rarely did anything impulsive—she couldn’t afford the luxury—but that bright summer morning, after she and Hildie had taken their walk, Libby decided not to open the Perk Up for business at the usual time.

Today, she just felt like playing hooky.

So she scribbled a message on a piece of yellow-lined paper, crossed the alley and let herself into the shop by the back way, passed through the kitchen into the main area and taped the sign to the glass in the front door.

CLOSED FOR REPAIRS, the notice read. BACK BY NOON. PROBABLY.

The “repairs” Libby needed to make weren’t the kind that required wrenches and screwdrivers, and while she fully intended to be serving coffee and smoothies and scones, if Julie had baked any, by midday, she wasn’t sure that would happen. That was why she’d added the “probably”—to give herself an out if the need should arise.

Back home, Libby switched her shorts and tank top for her best jeans and a sleeveless blue cotton blouse, then put on a pair of comfortable sandals. Brushed her hair, leaving it loose instead of binding it back in the usual ponytail, and applied some lip gloss.

Hildie, munching kibble in the kitchen when her mistress jingled the car keys in invitation, looked up, cocked both ears as she considered her options and promptly went back to eating her breakfast.

Libby smiled at that. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised, stroking the dog’s broad back with one hand before heading out the door.

Standing on the back porch, she looked around her yard and wished she hadn’t let the shrubs and flower beds get so out of hand. She’d never been much of a gardener, mostly because she’d never had the time, but now she felt a new and strangely keen longing to get her hands dirty, to weed and water and plant things just to watch them grow.

First, of course, she’d have to prepare the ground, and that would be a big job, one that might take weeks. By the time she’d finished, folks around Blue River would probably be fertilizing and tilling their garden plots under, to lie fallow until spring, when the nursery section down at the feed store would be awash in starter plants and brightly colored seed packets.

Before getting into her car and backing it into the alley, she looked under dusty tarps in the detached garage until she found her dad’s old push-mower. The blades were probably dull; maybe later, she’d heft the ancient apparatus into the trunk of the Impala and take it out to Chudley Wilkes for sharpening. When he wasn’t running his one-taxi empire, Chudley fixed things.

Just thinking about mowing the lawn empowered Libby a little, though she supposed she’d be whistling a different tune once she’d made a few swipes through the high grass. As

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