She set an elbow on the chair and curled her hand tightly around the end of the arm. “I didn’t. I pretended not to know.” Her voice was full of pain. “Can you imagine? How gutless is that?”

“You must have had a reason.”

“Sure. I didn’t want to give up my life.” She stared blindly toward the road. “I’m one of those women the feminist movement passed by. I had no career ambitions. I wanted what the women I saw around me had while I was growing up. A husband, children—good luck with that. Scott refused to even talk about kids.” She rose from the chair. “I wanted a beautiful house. Never having to worry about money. Knowing exactly where I fit. I wanted that security so much I was willing to sell my self-respect to get it. Even at the end … A year ago …” She stopped, hugged herself, her expression bleak. “I wasn’t the one who walked out. He walked out on me. I was still hanging on, the faithful doormat wife.”

Lucy’s heart filled with pity. “Bree …”

Bree refused to look at her. “What kind of woman lets herself get treated that way? Where was my pride? My backbone?”

“Maybe you’re finding it now.”

But Bree was too caught up in self-loathing to accept comfort. “When I look in the mirror, all I feel is disgust.”

“Clean off your mirror and take another look. I see an amazing woman who’s building a good business and also taking responsibility for a kid who’s not exactly easy.”

“Some business. A broken-down farm stand in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s not broken-down. Look around. This is the Taj Mahal of farm stands. The honey is the best I’ve ever tasted, new customers are stopping all the time, you keep adding more products, and you’re making a profit.”

“Which I’m plowing right back into new jars and Christmas ornaments, not to mention soap molds and a few gallons of cocoa butter for the lotions. What happens when Labor Day comes and the tourists leave? What happens when winter’s here and Toby stages a full-out teenage rebellion?”

Lucy had no easy answer for that. “You’ve figured everything else out. I’m betting you’ll figure that out, too.”

Lucy could see that Bree wasn’t buying it, and her own need to make other people feel better asserted itself. “What if Scott showed up today and said he’d made a mistake? What if he said he wanted you back, and he’d never screw around on you again? What would you do?”

Bree thought it over. “If Scott showed up?” she said slowly.

“Just supposing.”

“If Scott showed up …” Her jaw set. “I’d tell him to go screw himself.”

Lucy grinned. “Exactly what I thought.”