“I don’t have a good feeling.” Iris had this funny look on her face. Her face clouded over like a thundercloud, making me get chilled to the bone.
Chapter 2
Iris and I didn’t talk about her feeling. She got these about every three-to-six months, to which nothing good ever came out of them. Though her feelings weren’t always spot on, they were pretty close not to take note and keep an eye out.
Instead of trying to figure out what she’d felt, I walked her to her car and safely put her in, telling her to call me if she needed me. Something I might regret, but hey, I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.
Buster and Rowena were happy to see me when I walked in the door of my little house. Buster wiggled and jiggled all over, satisfied with a few kisses and pats before he darted to the front door to go outside.
Rowena dragged her long orange tail around my chin, purring loudly and putting a smile on my face.
“I missed you too.” I scooped her up into my arms and walked back with her into the kitchen to get her a salmon treat, which happened to be her second favorite. Chicken was her first, but I was out and knew she had her regular veterinary checkup for the year, so salmon was going to have to do until the vet visit.
Rowena meowed and rubbed against my ankles as though she were trying to hurry me up. Once I’d put the treats on the ground, she ignored me, daintily eating them.
“You be good while me and Buster head out to the farmhouse to see Clara,” I told Rowena on my way down the hallway to our bedroom, peeling off the sweatpants. I took the yoga pants out of the Tranquility Wellness bag and decided to pour myself into them.
Pour was about right.
“Oh, dear gawd,” I groaned when I turned to look at myself. Even Rowena came in to see what I was up to. “Two things that tell the truth, Rowena,” I said, taking another look at my butt, “children and yoga pants.”
Quickly, I took them off and threw them back into the bag before tossing them into the back of my closet. Out of sight, out of mind.
The slightest things really did make a mood sour, so instead of dwelling on it, I put my sweatpants back on. Clara didn’t care what her granny wore.
“Now, you be good,” I told Rowena and grabbed the keys to my car along with the box of food my mom gave me to take over to Julia when I delivered the mail to the Wallflower Diner, our family-owned restaurant on Main Street.
Rowena, satisfied, really couldn’t give two cents what I did now since she’d gotten her treats. She had her leg straight up in the air and licked all her leg, down to her toenails.
“Are you trying to give me some sort of subliminal message about how good and limber you are, or how much better at yoga you are than me?” I questioned her with a side-eye.
Of course, she responded by rolling over onto her back and contorting into a position that would require me to see an emergency chiropractor.
With the door locked behind me and an excited Buster trotting along next to me, we got into my car and rolled out of downtown into the country where the old family farm was located.
Buster kept his head out the window the entire time. He seemed steady enough, but I still put a hand on him for safekeeping.
The farmhouse and farm had been passed down to me from my parents after I’d gotten pregnant with Grady. Recently, I’d done the same after I found out Julia was pregnant with little Clara.
They’d lived over the family diner in the small one-bedroom apartment until they’d moved out here.
With each new day, Julia had been doing some major renovations, thanks to Mac Tabor. He was a brilliant architect and loved Grady and Julia like his own. That’s what made our breakup so hard, but it would be fine. That’s what I told myself.
The long gravel driveway was long gone now that they’d moved in. It was one of the first things to go because Grady didn’t want Clara playing in gravel in fear she’d skin her knee.
I agreed. I’d only had Grady, and I didn’t mind him skinning his knee. After all, he was rough and tumble. Gravel or no gravel, Grady always had some sort of cut.
Not for my sweet Clara.
The tires hummed over the old cattle grate that was still at the entrance of the farm, which brought back a lot of memories of my childhood when my daddy had many cows and the grate was supposed to keep them in the property. One or two got out on occasion, but for the most part, it did its job of keeping them in.
The excitement bubbled up in me the closer I got to the farmhouse, only to be busted as soon as I saw Mac’s truck there.
I sucked in a deep breath and thought about the images Peaches Partin put in our heads at the end of yoga class that made me take a little catnap. Unfortunately, I realized I’d fallen asleep every single time she started to give us an image to focus on.
I sucked in another deep breath and opened the door. Buster darted over me and bolted out the door, leaving me to fend for myself alone. But I was armed with a gift for Clara and food for them. Something Mac would never do.
But dang it if it wasn’t something Lucy Drake would do.
I nearly had a full-blown anxiety attack when I looked in the screen door of the house and saw my grandbaby in Lucy Drake’s arms, with Mac smiling and goggling over Lucy’s shoulder.
My heart started to palpitate. My breath quickened. My mind raced with fear of how much Clara appeared to be enjoying them, wondering if I was going to be good enough. Pretty enough. Small enough. My gut wrenched, and I thought I was going to be sick right there on their front porch. My front porch. My family front porch. Grady’s front porch.
My palms began to sweat, and I could feel myself making an exit plan. A quick getaway, which I’d become very good at over the past few months since Mac and I had called it quits.
Leave it to Buster to bark, making everyone look at me. I could see it now. Mac’s thoughts as his eyes darted back and forth between me and Lucy.
Wow. Look at Lucy compared to Bernie. What was I thinking? Lucy’s hair is so long and pretty. She looks great in these yoga pants (which she was still in). Poor Bernie. She’s completely let herself go in those sweatpants (I’m sure Lucy told him she’d seen me and how I was snoring). Glad I got out when I did.
“Bernie!” Mac finally took the initiative to break the most disturbing and very uncomfortable silence. “There’s the maw-maw.”
Maw-maw? Like hee-haw or something so hillbilly like that? No, thank you.
“I don’t…” I started to protest.
“Mom, Julia and I’ve been teaching Clara to call you Maw-maw and showing her the cute photo album you gave her.” Grady seemed awfully pleased with the name.
He opened the screen door.
“Who came up with…” I was about to protest again when Lucy Drake opened her big mouth.
“You’re the perfect maw-maw,” she giggled. “Look, you’re already bringing food.” She lifted her thin fingers to her tiny little skintight yoga shirt, placing a flat palm on her chest. “I had a maw-maw, and she did the same thing. But I have to tell you it wasn’t good for her hips or mine.” She winked then looked at little Clara. “Isn’t that right, sweet Clara?” Lucy spoke baby talk to my baby, causing me to hard swallow the bitter words I so desperately wanted to spit into her perfectly made-up face. I was only worried it would affect my Clara.