Page 66 of Talulah's Back in Town

When he sent her a heart emoji, she nearly dropped her phone. He didn’t mean anything by it, she told herself. She couldn’t get hung up on a man who struggled with commitment himself. And she couldn’t establish any more ties to this area. She’d broken away from Coyote Canyon, moved on and built a life somewhere else—and she would return to that life once she finished settling her great aunt’s estate.

And yet she kept picking up her phone to stare at that heart.

“You’ve lost your mind,” she muttered and ate her sandwich. Then she went back into the kitchen and finished the cakes. It was midnight before she drove the last one to the church so she could squeeze it into the refrigerator. She didn’t have enough space to fit all five, even using the church fridge, so she was counting on the cooler night air to help keep the ones she had to leave on the counter fresh. Sarah Carrier had asked several members of Phoebe’s church to come before the funeral to transfer the rest of the food. That would help.

Talulah had to be up early. She still had to prepare her remarks, which was the most daunting aspect of the funeral. She had no idea how to eulogize a woman she’d respected and admired but also feared and never truly understood or connected with. And doing this in front of her greatest critics... But she refused to think about that right now. After she cleaned the kitchen, she went out to sit on the porch because she needed a few minutes to decompress before going to bed.

As she rocked in her aunt’s swing, she twisted around to frown at the broken window, which she’d covered with cardboard until the replacement she’d ordered online came in, and kept an eye on the driveway in front of her, too, just in case Charlie returned.

Fortunately, she didn’t see any sign of trouble. Steering her mind away from him, she breathed in the familiar scent of the dust that covered everything in late summer and the Mimosa Tree near the porch that still had its pink blossoms. It was beautiful in Montana. She had to admit that. She’d forgotten just how bright the stars were in her hometown...

Her phone buzzed in her lap. Again, her mind jumped to Paul. He hadn’t shown up at the diner tonight. Three staff members had to muddle through without him. But Selma, who was in her fifties and their most experienced employee, had assured Talulah that all had gone well.

Bracing for an argument, she picked up her phone. But once again, it wasn’t Paul. This time it was her mother.

Talulah had put too much work into the funeral to tolerate any disapproval from Carolyn. And yet she knew her mother couldn’t be happy with what she’d heard since Talulah had returned to town. Talulah didn’t want to explain the rumors—or admit that they were true.

Listening to the creak of the wooden swing, she considered ignoring the call. It’d been a hard day. Why not let her parents think she was asleep? She could contact them after the funeral and provide the recap they’d be looking for.

But it had to be painful for her mother to miss Phoebe’s funeral. Carolyn probably just wanted to feel as much a part of it as she could. So Talulah answered in spite of her reservations. “Hello?”

“You’re still up? I thought with the funeral tomorrow you might’ve already gone to bed.”

“No, I just finished up for the night.”

“Finished what?”

“The carrot cakes I made for the funeral dinner.”

“You made the cakes yourself?” her mother asked.

“Yeah.” Talulah didn’t add that she’d prepared the rest of the meal, too. She didn’t want to pander for praise.

“That was nice of you, honey. I know Phoebe would’ve loved that.”

“I hope so. How are things in Sierra Leone?”

“Hot!” she said with a laugh.

“Temps have been hot here, too.”

“Montana can’t even compare to the heat in Africa.”

That was probably true. “How’s Dad?”

“He’s doing great. It’s early here. He hasn’t gotten up yet.”

“What are you doing awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Because...”

“I’ve been thinking about Phoebe. In some ways, she was like a mother to me. Your grandma was so often sick with lupus, so Phoebe helped outa lot. And then your grandma passed when I was still in college, so...”

Phoebe had been all she’d had from that point on. “Was she kinder and gentler back then?” Talulah asked.

“I don’t think I’d ever call Phoebe kind or gentle,” her mother said and they both chuckled. “She was gruff. But that was just her way. Deep down, she had a heart of gold and would always come through when you needed her.”

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