Page 72 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“I can’t just drop my responsibilities for a road trip.”
“Work trip,” Hannah points out. “One that you planned.”
“Planned so I wouldn’t be needed.”
“You’re not needed,” Natalie says. “You’re wanted.”
“And it’s happening.” Josie points her ice pack at me. “We’re finishing your bucket list at the rodeo, with the Wildes.”
“While that sounds fun”—it doesn’t—“I’m not going.”
They object, and I ignore it.
“Listen, I just popped in ‘cause Mama asked me to check on you guys.” I start picking up empty dishes and placing them on the tray. “And to remind Hannah that you don’t have any appointments today, and the kids are tagging along with Daddy. But to also point out you’re leaving for the rodeo tomorrow, so she assumes you’ll want to spend the afternoon with them.”
“I do.” Hannah peels herself from the chair.
“And Josie, Mama suggested you crawl back into bed because you’re leaving tomorrow at the crack of dawn.”
“What kind of cruel joke is this?” Josie whines. “Why did you let me try to outdrink you?”
“You’re a grown woman. You don’t need my permission.” My words are short. “And you’re meeting out front of the lodge by the RV tomorrow at six sharp.”
“Which we will see you there,” Hope says.
They’ll get it when I don’t show up tomorrow morning.
“Yoo-hoo!” Comes the familiar greeting behind me.
I freeze.
Oh no.
How do I escape?
I’m tempted to run into the closest cabin to avoid the Quylt sisters headed our way.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” Hope waves.
Since when is Hope pro-matchmakers? And since when does she wave? And does she seem especially thrilled at their random dropping by?
But it’s not so random, is it? The giant casserole Faye carries says everything.
“We brought a casserole.” Bracelets loaded with keys jangle as she thrusts the dish in my hand. “For Hart.”
“No.” I thrust it back, but she doesn’t let go, forcing me to take it.
“You’re bringing Hart a casserole?” Hannah brings the ends of her blanket together to fold it.
“No.”
“It would be nice.” Hope spreads jam on a piece of toast.
“Or would be awkward and weird.” I set the casserole on the table. “So absolutely not.”
“We heard there was a birthday sash.” Wilma lifts the cushion on the seat behind me.
“And a tiara with jewels that could be easily stitched.” Faye lifts blankets, glancing underneath.
