Inglath Cooper - John Riley's Girl

“Oh, my gosh, that’s Olivia Ashford!”

Two women shot across the grass like arrows from a bow, welcoming smiles on their faces.

“My goodness, I can’t believe you’re here!” the one in front said. “Nobody thought you would actually come.”

Olivia smiled back, studying their faces for a moment before recognition hit her. “Casey. Sarah,” she said. “How are you?”

Casey had ridden Olivia’s school bus, Sarah had been in her homeroom.

They all hugged, then stood back to take a look at one another.

“Great. And no need to ask you that,” Sarah said.

“We are so proud of you,” Casey added. “Wow. You look so different in real life. Less serious, I mean. Who would ever have thought that you…I mean anyone from Summerville would end up on television every morning?”

Olivia smiled and steered the conversation away from herself. “So tell me what you’re doing. Are you living in Summerville?”

“Yep,” Sarah said. “Never left. I have three children, Casey has four.”

“You never married, did you?” Casey asked.

“No, I never did.”

“Well, with all the excitement in your life, who needs marriage and children?”

Olivia smiled again as the two women moved ahead in line. Their words settled over her with the implication that, despite all the opportunities her career had afforded her, she was the one who had missed out on something major.

“Olivia!”

The familiar voice sent relief flooding through her. She turned around to find Lori cutting her way through the crowd.

“Lori!” Olivia held out her hands to her old friend. Lori took them, and they stepped into a warm hug that lasted for several long moments. Olivia’s eyes grew moist; she had not expected the lump of emotion now wedged in her chest, preventing further words.

“Gosh, it’s so good to see you,” Lori said, when they’d stepped back to get a good look at one another.

Olivia swallowed. “You look wonderful. You’ve hardly changed at all,” she said, wishing she hadn’t waited so long for this particular reunion. Seeing Lori made all the years fall away. Just like that.

“Hah, compared to you, I don’t think so.”

“No, I mean it. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“A few wrinkles here and there. But we’re supposed to call those character lines, aren’t we?”

Olivia laughed. “I guess so.”

“Obviously you got my message?”

She nodded, hoping her expression said, “No big deal.”

“Were you all right with coming out here?” Lori asked with a hopeful squint.

Olivia drew in a breath. “I guess I should ask if it’s all right that I’m here,” she said, trying to keep the words light.

“Of course it is,” Lori said, squeezing her arm while something that looked a lot like apprehension flitted across her face. “Come on, let’s find a quiet spot where we can talk. We have so much to catch up on. It really is great to see you.”

They were headed to the side of the yard when a frantic voice from one of the tents called out, “Lori, could you come up here? We’ve got another problem with this darn drink machine!”

Lori sighed. “Don’t they know we have fifteen years worth of stuff to catch up on?”

“You go ahead,” Olivia said. “We’ve got the whole weekend. Just look for me when you’re done.”

Lori smiled and hugged her again. “Don’t go far,” she said.

JOHN HAD NEVER been good in crowds. Especially big ones. With almost three hundred people milling about his front yard, he found himself wishing Sunday would hurry up and get here so the whole thing would be over.

The caterer had set up camp near one of the pasture fences, now putting the finishing touches on the barbecue he’d been cooking since mid-morning. If it tasted as good as it smelled, he’d be a hit. A couple of mares had been glued to that section of fence for the past few hours, patiently waiting for the next round of sugar cubes the man had been slipping them on and off all day.

Opposite the barbecue was a DJ playing current top forty, the music persistent, but still enough in the background that conversation was possible. John spotted Cleeve joking with Amy Bussey and Sharon Moore who were working the front table and pinning badges with senior pictures to jacket lapels and dresses.

Cleeve glanced up, and John waved him over. He wound his way through the crowd, a white Stetson on his head, his yellow shirt and Wranglers freshly pressed. He was tall and lean with long legs that made him a natural in the cutting-horse competitions he made time to attend in the summers with John. He had the kind of face that would never look its age. Women called him boyish. It made Cleeve madder than a hornet, but as the years ticked by, he was starting to believe John’s admonishment that it wasn’t such a bad tag to have hung on you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to stand over here in the shadows all night,” Cleeve said, giving him a shoulder joust and then an elbow jab to the ribs.

“Giving it serious consideration.”

“What? You mind beating women off with a stick?”

John gave him a sideways look and rolled his eyes.

“Even as we speak, plots are being hatched in the ladies’ room as to correcting your bachelor status,” Cleeve said with a grin.

“Widower status.”

Cleeve instantly sobered. “Ah, hell, John, that was damn callous of me. I’m sorry.”

“Forget it,” John said, letting out a long sigh. “Don’t pay any attention to my bark. I’m not fit company for being out in public.”

“Have to say, I was kind of surprised to see you down here already. Figured I’d have to come up there and reel you out of the house.”

“Sophia took care of it for you.”

“That’s my girl,” Cleeve said, his smile back.

John shook his head and gave Cleeve a once-over. “Aren’t you lookin’ spiffy tonight? I hardly recognized you without the cow manure on your shirt.”

“Figured I might as well show some of these gals what they missed out on.”

“Since you dated half the class, I guess you better get started.”

To Cleeve, this was compliment, not insult. He laughed.

“So where’s the one you married?” John asked.

Cleeve’s smile faded. “Visiting her sister.”

At the look in his friend’s eyes, John was sorry he’d brought it up. “Then I guess you’ll have to dance with some of these other gals, huh?”

“Guess I will,” Cleeve agreed, but with less pluck than before.

“Hey, guys.” Lori Peters stepped up and gave them both a hug.

John leaned back and gave her a long look. She had on a blue cotton sundress that picked up the color of her eyes and did nice things for her fair skin. “You look great,” he said.

Cleeve gave her a low wolf-whistle. “I’ll second.”

“You two are just used to seeing me with four kids climbing all over me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the sign-in table where people were still filing in.

“I liked that look on you,” Cleeve said.

Lori smiled, but it was a noticeably weak attempt. “John, I need to talk to you about something.”

“You run the well dry? Somebody steal my best cow?”

“Not exactly,” she said, her teeth catching the edge of her lower lip.

Cleeve tipped his Stetson back. “Want me to va-moose?”

“You might as well hear it, too,” Lori said, throwing another uneasy glance over her shoulder. “I should have told you this earlier, this morning when I called, but I chickened out, and I know it was wrong—”

John’s gaze followed hers to the edge of the yard, and the rest of whatever Lori was saying was lost to him. The plastic cup in his hand slid from his fingers and dropped to the ground, iced tea splattering his jeans and Lori’s bare legs.