“She sure does give him what for,” he said. “Listen to this: ‘I’m nothin but a Grass Widow, left for dead. Folk been sayin how grand you are now, living in Sacremennto. I say your nothing but a coward, Buck, runnin like you did. ’” Billy leaned back. “Hoo-boy. She must’ve been something else, your great-great-great-grandmother. Them’s fightin’ words. ”
“Wow. ‘Grass widow?’ I’m not even sure what that means. ”
He carefully picked another few from the stack, rifling through. “This is remarkable. Have you read all of them?”
“Not yet. ” She realized the excitement buzzing through her was from having another person actually show some enthusiasm. “So, you’re interested? I mean…you think they’re interesting?”
“What, the letters?” Billy shot her a look. “Who wouldn’t be?”
Damien. Her dad. Her mom. Pretty much everyone else. “I wonder if there’s a way to use these to bring more business to the lodge, but I’m not sure how. ”
“You should take them to the historical society. ”
It’d come from out of the blue, and a quick laugh escaped her. “What do you know about the historical society?” Generally, the only person she heard discuss such things was her mother. The other members probably discussed their society ad nauseam during their weekly bridge night, but Sorrow always steered clear, terrified she might get pulled into a round.
He scooted his chair to face her, looking earnest. “Seriously, they’d probably be able to help leverage the Buck Larsen connection. And answer other questions for you, too, like about pens, and grass widows, and such. I was talking to Marlene just yesterday—”
Now she really did laugh. “You were talking to Marlene?”
“Yes, I was talking to Marlene. ” His eyes twinkled, and Sorrow wondered if she and the sheriff were flirting. “Apparently they’re having financial trouble. This would be of great interest to them. I take it you’re not a member?”
“Me? No way. That many older women in one room—it’s like a cabal. Each woman’s sole goal to introduce me to their grandson, or grandnephew, or paperboy or whatever. ”
“Paperboy?”
“They’ve known me forever,” she said, waving that one off. She sipped her wine, thinking. “You know, though…you might actually be on to something. I’ll have Mom bring it to the Kidd sisters. ” At his puzzled look, she clarified, “Marlene’s maiden name was Kidd. ”
“Marlene has sisters?”
“No, no, no. ” She gave a grand shake to her head. “I forget how new you are around here. Marlene has aunts. Two of them. And her mother’s still alive, too. They’re all in their eighties. ”
Billy’s brows furrowed. “I don’t think I’ve met them. ”
“Oh, you’d know if you had. Emerald, Ruby, and Pearl. The grandes dames of Sierra Falls. ”
“Oh, my. ”
“Oh, yes. ” She shared a smile with him. Suddenly she realized how intimate it all felt. Suddenly she wondered what it’d be like if he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her.
He looked like maybe he was wondering that as well.
Her heart beat hard in her chest.
The angry sound of water boiling over and sizzling onto the burner broke the moment. Sorrow shot to her feet. She ran to the pot and tossed in some linguini.
“That’s a lot,” he said.
She smiled secretly over the stove. “You seem like a man with an appetite. ”
“How’d you guess?” He picked up his wine and joined her, looking over her shoulder into the pot. “Except that might even be too much for me. Though I’ve always believed nothing beats leftover pasta in the morning. ”
She nodded her agreement. Nodded, and found herself wondering what it might be like to serve this particular man breakfast.
Nine
Marlene surreptitiously smelled her wrist. She hoped she wasn’t wearing too much perfume. She hadn’t thought it’d been too much, but when she’d walked into the tavern, so full of the aroma of beer and fried things, she’d begun to worry that her Estée Lauder stood out.
She hated having to worry about such nonsense. One would think a sixty-three-year-old woman would have a little confidence by now. But the divorce had thrown her.