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Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Katie Powner
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Dedication
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

Her heart rate sped up a little. Did he want her there? Were they . . . close? No. Dad wouldn’t have anything to do with another woman. He’d loved Mom too much. Bea couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. But then . . .

She remembered the time she’d come home to find Dad talking with Marge over in her yard. The time she’d found them chatting in the kitchen. All the times Marge had stopped by with food . . .

Marge was looking at her, waiting for an answer. If Mom were here, she would thank Marge for her offer and assign her a task. She would be completely sincere about it and impeccably kind and polite. Then again, if Mom were here, Marge would not be.

Bea cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump forming there. “Would you want to bring a salad?”

Maybe not exactly how Mom would’ve done it, but it was something.

Marge’s eyes flickered with some kind of question, though Bea wasn’t sure what it could be. “Sure. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She put an awful lot of emphasis on the word else. Bea fought a grimace. She was trying to be nice here, yet Marge wasn’t making it easy. Did she think Bea incapable of putting a meal together?

“A salad would be helpful,” she said flatly.

Marge put on a big smile. “Of course. I would be happy to. What time?”

“Noon?”

“Perfect.”

Bea couldn’t believe what had just happened. It should be her mom sitting here with her, not Marge. She turned her attention back to Hunter. “Looks like he’s over his shock.”

Marge pushed herself up off the floor. “Yes. What a doll. Well, I better be going.”

Bea stayed put, not wanting to leave Hunter for even a second.

Marge reached the hall and turned back to wave. “Bye now.”

Bea raised a hand and whispered, “Thank you,” as Marge disappeared around the corner. Yes, it should’ve been Mom here with her, helping her through this, coming to her aid in a crisis. But Mom wasn’t here. Wasn’t going to be here ever again. Instead, it had been Marge.

Bea checked the time. The two hours had come and gone.

Hot coffee.

THIRTY-TWO

ch-fig

First down . . .”

Jeremy shouted in unison with the crowd, “Spud Town!”

Bea grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re really getting into this.”

He smiled back. “It’s senior night.”

Every year, the school gave a special introduction to each senior student from the team during the last home game of the regular season. The crowd always cheered extra loud, and the mothers always tried extra hard to hide their tears as it hit them that this was the last season of high school football their babies were ever going to play. But miracle of miracles, this wasn’t the Spuds’ last game. Moose Creek was going to the play-offs.