How was Miriam supposed to know what would be good for her? She never had up to now.

Now that she knew Noelle didn’t hate her, the pull she felt toward the woman wanted to burst from its chains. She wanted to ask Noelle all of her secrets. She’d never wanted to swap secrets with Tara. No matter how much she liked Tara, she didn’t want to get lost in her.

Feeling that way about Noelle fit together pieces in her mind like a puzzle she’d been avoiding finishing. She might never be with Noelle, but the partnership she and Tara had planned wasn’t going to work for her anymore. There was nothing wrong with a friendly respectful marriage with no romance, it just turned out she wanted something else entirely.

She needed to be honest with Tara.

Like she’d been summoned by Miriam’s thoughts, a sleek blonde bob wrapped in a long white coat swept around the corner of the barn.

Miriam forgot to breathe for several beats.

“Hey, darlin,” Tara said, smiling at her. “Can you show me to my room?”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Miriam managed, finally, a hand to her chest. Okay, so she was going to have to be honest with Tara really soon. In person. At Carrigan’s.

Wasn’t expecting was an understatement. She would never have imagined that Tara would come here—would be here, incongruously, in this place. She’d told Tara they would have everything worked out by Thanksgiving, and Miriam knew the Thanksgiving meal was a huge event for the Chadwicks. She’d expected Tara to call her on Friday to check in, not to show up for the holiday. What had she said to her parents?

Cole appeared behind Tara, dragging suitcases. “I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t be stopped, so I came with her to mitigate the damage.”

Tara made no sign she’d heard Cole. “Why don’t you show me around?”

Miriam shook herself out of her daze. “Yes. Let’s go inside.” She led them in through a side entrance to the great room, where they found Hannah and Noelle. Hannah’s eyebrows shot up, and Noelle looked between Tara and Miriam, crossing her arms and frowning.

“This is my cousin Hannah—” Miriam began.

“Such a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard such lovely things.” Tara had dropped into the debutante cadence she fell back on when she was uncomfortable or felt out of place. Miriam’s heart hurt at how badly Tara was trying to be polite. “And you are?” Tara’s gaze had moved to Noelle.

“As you’ve just walked into my home, I feel I ought to be the one asking that,” Noelle said, stuffing her hands into her pockets and subtly widening her stance. She looked like a lizard frilling out its neck to threaten intruders to its territory. Why was she being so rude?