Their most recent conversation, the day after she’d arrived, had been brief. But now they’d have an opportunity for a lengthier talk.

“Hi, Shallie, how are you?”

“Not bad. Good, actually. How about you?”

“Same. Got a busy day coming up. One of my regular clients—Jordan? Remember him? The ten-year-old boy with autism.”

“Of course. Is he doing okay?”

“I’d say so. He’s really bonded with darling little Carrot Cake.”

“She’s a lovely orange girl, and really, truly a darling.”

“How are the horse lessons going? Details, please.”

Shallie explained what she and Cord had been working on—introductions to the various horses, and the time spent patiently relating to them, especially the rescues. Riding. Cleaning stalls.

“And the girl you told me about? Your friend Reba’s daughter?”

“Carly. I think I’ve made some headway there. We talk quite often, and she’s shared some of her history with me, sometimes asks for advice. She…needs me.”

“Yeah. She needs a friend. And a mother.”

“Not to mention a father.” Shallie had recently informed Emma of the three-fathers situation.

“I don’t even want to ask,” Emma said, “but any progress there?”

“Well, Cord’s asked me to talk to her about…certain things, including a DNA test.”

“If it turns out Cord’s her dad, how would you feel about that?”

“Okay.” And she meant it. The subject of Cord had first come up when she’d investigated his business. She’d told Emma only a little about her memories of Cord and the feelings she’d had for him, or about Reba—but Emma had easily guessed there was more. In a previous call, Shallie had mentioned learning from Carly that Reba had died. She’d described how shaken she was, not only by Reba’s death but by the fact that she’d had a daughter.

They left the subject of Cord and Carly and spoke about mutual friends, Country Classics Night and their favorite C&W songs, their delayed plans to take a trip to San Francisco.

Shallie took a deep breath, audible to her and probably Emma, and said, “I’m thinking of hiring a private investigator to research my mother’s history and, if possible, find out where she is now.”

“Do it! You can afford it.”

“Who knows what I might learn? Could be bad news. But I have to do it. And you’re right, at this point in my life, I can afford it.” Her share of profits from the house she and Rob had owned in Seattle had left her with enough money to do that. And change her life if she wanted. She’d been living in a small apartment, in the same building as Emma, since the divorce and, for the first time, had a substantial bank account.