Prologue #2
She’d helped plan this meeting and yet Jenny found herself something like nervous.
She hit the interstate once she made it down Copper Mountain and wound through Marietta, then drove up toward Livingston.
It was a sullen, cold morning. There hadn’t been much light to speak of in weeks, though there were glimmers of it today up high above the Gallatins as she made her way along the highway.
Nothing more than that low smudge of pale light that marked a full winter daylight this far north.
Like most things, it was beautiful. If you knew how to look at it.
Maybe, she acknowledged as she closed in on Livingston, she didn’t want anything to change.
She liked these faceless, anonymous discussions with Peyton on the phone.
Meeting in person felt a little too close to scary.
Like they’d have to give up all those rambling, confessional, healing conversations if they actually shared a physical space.
But she laughed as she thought that. Because who was she kidding? They’d already shared far more than most folks who lived on top of each other.
She was still laughing about that as she made her way into sturdy, charming Livingston itself, hunkered down against the relentless onslaught of the early February weather.
There was snow on the ground, but nothing worrying, and none coming down as she parked.
The famous wind was up to its usual nonsense this morning—she could see it causing a commotion wherever it found a sign or a stray tree branch—so she raced from her parking space in a bent-over attempt to keep it from slicing her in half, then threw herself into the coffee shop where she and Peyton were supposed to meet.
And it took a minute to wrestle the door shut behind her.
It was warm inside, bright and cheery with music playing, the hum of conversation, and the louder whir of the espresso machine.
She stopped just inside the door and unzipped her coat to let the warmth in quicker.
Then she pulled her knit hat off of her head, running a hand through her hair to get the static out.
As she was doing that, she glanced around the tables where people were sitting in casual, small groups, not sure how she was expected to recognize a woman who was a stranger to her despite all the things they shared—
But then she stopped, and stared.
And the woman staring back at her had the same look on her face that she expected was on hers.
Arrested. Astonished.
There was one beat. Another.
And then they both laughed.
It was a helpless, whole-body laughter, and Jenny staggered over to the table to sit down and keep on laughing, because it was that or end up on the creaky wood floor. They laughed and laughed and kept on laughing.
In the end, they were wiping at their eyes, still laughing, and looking at each other as if they were about to speak, but laughing again instead.
Jenny imagined that at least half the coffee shop was staring at them, but she couldn’t let herself care about something like that. It was one more reason they’d chosen neutral ground for this. Space to react however they wanted.
It took a good long while, but finally, they subsided.
They were both sniffling and wiping at their eyes, and Jenny’s face and belly actually hurt from all of that laughing.
It occurred to her that maybe it had been a while since she’d laughed so much.
And certainly it had been a lifetime since she’d laughed at anything for this long.
Eventually, they both settled back in their chairs. They looked across the table at each other, and took each other’s measure. This time without the laughter.
The thing was… it was like looking in a mirror.
More or less.
“Well,” Jenny said after a moment. “There’s no mistaking it.”
“Indeed there isn’t,” replied the woman across from her, who could be no one but Peyton Patrick. She shook her head. “I guess he had a type.”
Jenny couldn’t believe it. And yet… she could. “We could be sisters.”
“At least we can be assured that he had good taste,” Peyton said, her mouth kicking up in one corner. “That makes me happier than I expected to feel in a moment like this.”
It was true. They really could have been sisters. Jenny’s hair was redder. Peyton’s was blacker. They both wore it long. Peyton also had blue eyes that Jenny could confuse for her own. Blue eyes that all of their children were known for, come to that.
They were even shaped the same, for the most part. She thought Peyton was a bit taller, with her dark hair below her shoulders while Jenny’s hit midshoulder, but they had the same basic lines.
In the aftermath of all that laughter, as they both sat there in silence for a moment or two, Jenny assumed that they were both letting the implications take hold.
Peyton rubbed at her face again, managing to sort out her eyeliner in two quick movements of her fingers, indicating that she spent more time wearing makeup than Jenny ever had. Maybe that was the only other immediately apparent difference between them.
Her head was spinning a bit, so Jenny took the opportunity to go and get herself a coffee concoction that promised to give her an entirely new personality, and possibly a heart attack, so she grabbed a few pastries just to be sure.
Then she came back to the table and settled down with this woman who she supposed had been her husband’s mistress… but did that really count in a situation like this?
He had married them both. It was true that Lyle Patrick didn’t exist and the marriage therefore wasn’t real, but Peyton couldn’t possibly have known that.
She’d told Jenny from the start that she’d had no idea until he’d disappeared and she’d started digging around and had found nothing but…
Patrick Lisle, Cowboy Point, and a wife and family that predated her, to her horror.
Jenny also hadn’t had the slightest idea that Patrick had been out there with a whole other family. Other women, sure. That tracked. But an entire second family? From the man who had seemed to find the one family so overwhelming?
She still found it hard to get her head around.
“My older two are determined to settle in Cowboy Point for a while and see what it’s all about,” Peyton said, picking at the gigantic almond croissant that Jenny had brought over to the table for them to share.
“They would tell you that they’re going to see what kind of mess Helena’s made of it all, but I don’t know if that’s true.
They’d never admit it, but I think they do really want to know the other side of their family. I can’t really blame them.”
But she didn’t look at Jenny when she said that. Allowing Jenny to assign blame, perhaps. Or have to arrange her face to avoid looking like that was what she was doing. It was sweet, but Jenny didn’t need it.
“No,” she agreed at once. “I don’t blame them either. There’s only one person to blame, and he never was any good at taking responsibility for anything, so that’s a dead end.” She made a face. “No pun intended.”
“Do you believe he’s really gone?” Peyton asked, her eyebrows crooking up. “I keep expecting him to… turn back up again. Like the worst sort of penny.”
“Part of me wishes he would,” Jenny confessed.
“I’m not the woman he left any longer. His children are all grown up now.
I bet it wouldn’t be quite the situation he might imagine.
” She shook her head, because this wasn’t the time to air out all those fantasies based in righteous indignation.
Not at their first real meeting. “But I have his death certificate.” She lifted a hand when Peyton made a face.
“I know, I know. I do take comfort in the fact that Patrick Lisle is legally dead, no matter if he really is or not, and can have no claim on anything he left behind in Cowboy Point.”
“I similarly take comfort in the fact that Lyle Patrick never existed,” Peyton said, her smile cooling.
“So he’d have a hard time claiming anything that he thinks ought to be his through an act of what I believe is a felony in some places.
People do tend to frown on willful and deliberate bigamy, last I checked. ”
“Of course,” Jenny pointed out, “if he is still alive, we can be certain that there are at least two other women in this very same position right now.”
“We know that for a fact,” Peyton agreed ruefully. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll be a whole big club before we’re done.”
This time, their laughter was a little hollow.
Peyton reached across the table then and took Jenny’s hands in hers. And Jenny had never been much of a random toucher, but for some reason, she found herself holding on tight.
“It looks like we’re bringing the family together,” Peyton said, no laughter left on her face now.
Just those intense blue eyes. “I’m not sure that would be my decision, but Helena has always had a mind of her own.
She’s very determined. And honestly? I don’t want to add to your hurt any more than I already have, but I can’t think of this as a bad thing.
It was the last thing he wanted, so to me, it seems like a no-brainer to go ahead and do it. ”
“I want to disagree,” Jenny told her, matching the intensity and honesty.
“But I think that’s a knee-jerk reaction.
” She didn’t let go of Peyton’s hands. “I’ve known Patrick since he was a kid.
We started dating when we were fourteen.
He lied to me then and I don’t really know what made me think he would ever stop.
I blame myself, if you want to know the truth.
” When Peyton started to argue that, she shook her head.
“What matters are the kids. We both know the kind of effect a father like him can have on kids who deserve better. I can see it in my sons. My daughter is married and wildly happy, but she feels like the outlier, if I’m honest. Though, given who Cat is, that makes sense. ”