Joanna Sims - Meet Me At The Chapel

“Right?” Brock crossed his arms in front of his body. “My friend Billy will be able to get this right-side up sometime around noon.”

“Thank you.”

They stood together, both looking at the truck without anything else to say about it.

“Are you done looking at it?” the ranch foreman asked her.

Casey sighed. “Yeah. I guess. The damage is done.”

“That’s right.”

The rest of the way into Helena, Casey felt sick to her stomach. Taylor was going to be heartbroken and it was her fault. She was the one who’d had the idea of saving her sister some cash by renting a truck and driving it herself. Taylor had said, repeatedly, that she thought it was best if professional movers brought her things to Montana. But, as she always did, she persisted until she wore Taylor down. And now, all of her belongings were trapped in a toppled rental truck on the side of a desolate Montana highway. Brilliant.

“This is it.” Brock stopped at the end of the driveway of a little Craftsman bungalow.

With a heavy sigh, Casey nodded her head. “Yep.”

“Can I go in and see Penny?” Hannah asked excitedly.

Casey met Brock’s eye before she said, “Not this time, Hannah. Penny has an ear infection.”

“Next time,” Brock added. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear something from Billy.”

“Text me if I don’t answer.”

“Consider it done.”

She stood with the truck door open and mustered a small smile for him. “Thank you for everything, Brock. Seriously. Above and beyond the call of duty.”

He tipped his hat to her, and she interpreted that gesture as a you’re welcome and a thank you, too. She got out of the truck and said goodbye to Hannah and her father.

Her sister was opening the door at the same time Brock was pulling away.

“Casey!” Taylor was holding her baby daughter in her arms.

They embraced tightly, as they always did. They were more than sisters—they were, and always had been, best friends.

“Oh, Tay—she’s even prettier in person.” Casey touched Penelope’s creamy, chubby cheek. “Hi, Penny, you sweet, sweet thing. Your aunt Casey is going to spoil you absolutely rotten! Yes, I am!”

“She’s so fussy right now because she doesn’t feel well.” Taylor kissed her daughter’s warm forehead.

“Poor Penny.” Casey looked at her little niece compassionately.

“I’m so happy to see you, Casey.” Taylor hugged her again. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

Together they walked up the driveway to the front door of the bungalow. “I’ve missed you. I hate that we don’t live in the same town anymore.”

“Me, too.” Taylor shut the front door behind them. “Let me see if she’ll lie down for her nap. It’ll give us a chance to catch up. She hasn’t slept well for a couple of days, so cross your fingers.”

Casey held up her crossed fingers for her sister to see.

Taylor didn’t reappear for a while. When her sister returned to the living room, she was talking in a quieter voice.

“Okay—she’s down. For how long is debatable! Is it too early for wine?”

“No. Bring it on, sis.” She could use a large glass or two.

Taylor had been diagnosed with the inability to lactate after the birth of her daughter, and the only upside her sister could find was the fact that she had been cleared to drink wine.

Casey sat down at the breakfast bar while her sister got the wineglasses.

“Red or white?” Taylor asked her from the open refrigerator.

“Either—as long as it’s not too dry.”

Taylor held up a bottle for her to see. “How about this?”

Casey gave her the “okay” sign; generous portions of wine were poured and the two of them moved to the cozy family room next to the kitchen. Taylor immediately coaxed Hercules onto her lap, and the micro-poodle didn’t hesitate to abandon her owner for a novel lap.

“Traitor,” Casey said to her canine companion.

“Here’s to a great summer.” Taylor touched her glass to hers.

“To a great summer.” She took several large gulps of the wine. Taylor hadn’t even asked her about the rental truck.

Her sister curled her legs to the side, leaned into the couch cushion and smiled happily at her. “I am so happy to see you.”

“You may not feel that way in a minute.”

Taylor’s eyebrows dropped and her pretty blue eyes registered confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Casey downed the rest of her wine. One of her most intense childhood memories was the time that she decapitated Taylor’s favorite Barbie doll and then flushed the head just to see if it would indeed flush. It had. And Taylor had gone absolutely crazy-town ballistic on her and then stopped speaking to her for a month. Granted, they were kids when that happened. But then again, this was much worse than decapitating Barbie. Much worse.

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