PROLOGUE
2004
The three women sitting at a table in a pizza parlor in Moab, Utah, eyed an assortment of colorful brochures on the table.
The redhead put aside the brochure for the trail ride they'd taken that morning, and they pored over the ones remaining, selecting those with activities they were interested in. Then the blonde picked up a copy of the local paper included with their information packet and flipped through it.
Pointing at a photo above an obituary, she said, "This woman reminds me of Gabby. Listen to her obit."
When she finished reading, the dark-haired one said, "You're right. She was a genuine Crusty Old Broad, like Gabby."
"I wonder if she wrote her own obituary," said the blonde. "That's what I plan to do when the time comes. That way, I'll know it's the way I want it."
"How are we supposed to know when the time comes?" the redhead asked.
The blonde looked thoughtful. "We might not. We should write them now. That way, they'd be done, and we could see how close we are to becoming Crusty Old Broads."
The blonde and the redhead fell into a contest to see who could come up with the silliest obituary lines. Neither seemed to notice that their friend wasn't taking part in the fun.
CHAPTER 1
1996
JUNEAU
On February 1 Juneau decided to make an inventory, not of her cupboards and closets but of her life. She set up two columns on her computer screen, one titled The Good and the other The Bad. After gazing at those headings for a while, she deleted them and typed Positive and Negative. Still not satisfied, she deleted again and sat thinking. How do you assess a life on paper? Finally, at the top of the first column she wrote Got and across from it Not. As number one on the Not side, she typed GIDEON.
Today was Gideon's eighth birthday. He'd been on her mind all day, as he had been every day since Misty had wrenched him away on Christmas. How could she not think about him? For almost eight years he'd been like her son, hers and Greg's. Misty, their flighty, restless daughter, was his biological mother, but she'd skipped out on him when he was three months old. Juneau and Greg had been the ones who kissed his boo-boos better and explained the intricacies of tying shoes. They should be the ones watching him blow out the eight candles on his cake and sharing his excitement about being baptized. But the guardianship papers they'd drawn up when Misty left Gideon with them as a baby turned out to have been inadequately prepared and, as their lawyer friend Vance said, too flimsy to stand up in court.
It was her fault, what had happened. Not only had she done nothing to stop Misty from whisking Gideon off to Idaho but she'd actually kept Greg and Trace and Ira from physically preventing Misty from going. At the time, she'd been afraid of how it would affect Gideon to see them fighting over him like dogs over a bone. Now she regretted that decision, fearing he was more devastated by their letting him go than he would have been by their efforts to keep him.
Staring at his name on her inventory, Juneau wondered what she could put on the Got side that would even begin to balance out the loss of Gideon. She couldn't think of anything, but perhaps time might change her mind. As a writer, she knew the nature of stories. There were always many twists and turns and surprises before the resolution. As she'd told her friends Deenie and Erin when they'd been together in Hawaii in January, Gideon's story wasn't over yet.
She closed the file, assigning it the name GotNot. Then she checked her e-mail. There was a message from Trace, Gideon's birth father. "Juneau and Greg," Trace wrote, "an e-mail birthday greeting has been delivered to Gideon from all of us! I did it through Cath's mom, who 'just happened' to be at Gideon's school in Preston this morning when Misty dropped him off. Misty was ticked big time, Cath's mom said, but Gideon glowed when she handed him the printout. He knows we haven't forgotten him."
The e-mail was signed, "Trace, the Triumphant."
Juneau leaned back and smiled. It raised her spirits immeasurably to know that Trace had gotten a greeting to Gideon. Misty hadn't allowed any of them to be in touch with him, claiming it would be easier for him to adjust if she cut off all contact when she took him to Idaho.
"Good for you, Cath," Juneau said aloud. She suspected that the wily Cath had engineered the whole thing-her family home in Mink Creek wasn't that far from Preston, and she thanked heaven that the girl had come from Idaho to work in California. She was a distant cousin and had become a member of the group that Juneau and Greg counted as their family. And she'd become close friends with Trace.
Juneau was petting Gideon's cat, Numbtail, asleep on top of her computer, when she heard Greg's car in the driveway. She checked her desk clock: 2:10. Since Greg had quit his teaching job at Cal State Los Angeles and he and Arnie Gilbert had started Smoketree Systems, a computer consulting business, he never came home until well into the evening. Why would he be here at this hour?
Anxiously she hurried to the door and flung it open. Greg stood there, grinning. "Good news, Juney."
She put a hand to her throat. "Gideon?"
His grin faltered. "No, but it's still good. We got a contract we needed. A big contract. Smoketree Systems is going to fly yet."
Greg grabbed her and did a swing-around, as Giddy called it, with her feet off the floor. "Let's celebrate," he said. "Dancing? Sailing? Dinner atop the Hilton? How about driving up Angeles Crest and stopping somewhere to neck?"
Juneau laughed. "All of the above, but how about dancing? I heard there's a square dance group starting up tonight."
"Well, doll yourself up, little darlin.' I'll be home again by six." After planting a resounding kiss on her lips, Greg said, "Gotta get back to the office. I just wanted to tell you the news in person." He sprinted to his car, pausing long enough to leap into the air and click his heels.
Watching him, Juneau laughed aloud. Was this boyish leaper really her fifty-one-year old husband? Her faithful, dependable, always-there-like-the-furniture Greg?
Hurrying back to her computer, she brought up the GotNot file. After glancing fondly at GIDEON on the Not side, she shifted the cursor to Got and underneath it typed GREG.
There was more than one story that wasn't over yet.
ERIN
Caitlin was up to something. Erin saw it the minute her sister swept into the house on a blast of April rain, an extravagantly wrapped present held protectively inside her jacket and a wide grin on her face. Erin knew that expression. It announced better than words that Caitlin was hatching a plan centered on eligible men. Again.
"Happy birthday." Caitlin thrust the present into Erin's hands and hung up her jacket.
"Thanks." Erin led Caitlin into the great room, where she put the package on a table. "What's with that grin?"
Caitlin's eyes widened innocently. "Me? Grinning?"
"You're planning something, I can tell."
"Maybe." Caitlin greeted ten-year-old Mark, who was absorbed in Super Mario, and kissed her toddler niece, Hannah, who dozed on the couch, thumb in mouth. At Hannah's feet lay the family's golden Labrador, Rascal.
"Where's Kayla?" Caitlin asked.
"Where else but the ice rink? She's been on fire ever since she did so well at the McCandless Competition last month."
They settled on the living room couch to wait for the rest of the family to arrive. And the food, which Erin's father, Andrew, was picking up at a favorite restaurant. Her mother was bringing carrot cake, Erin's favorite.
"So how does it feel to be thirty-eight?"
Erin huffed. "Same as thirty-seven felt yesterday."
"Tell the truth," Caitlin prodded.
"Honestly? I hate birthdays. They bring up too many memories."
"About your life B.C. and A.C.?"
"Before Cory and After Cory? Very funny. But yes. I never imagined I'd end up divorced."
"You never imagined Cory was gay."
"Thanks for reminding me." Chagrin replaced Erin's sarcasm. "I still feel stupid about that. But he's been great with the kids, and when I need advice, he's always there."
"Honestly, sis, you're too close to him. You need a life of your own."
"Single mothers don't have a life of their own."
Erin had started to give a rundown on the kids when she noticed Caitlin's mischievous grin was back. She couldn't help but return it. "Okay. Spit it out."
"Hold onto your hat. I've got us set up for a double date." Caitlin laughed at Erin's expression. "You'll like Ben. He's the twin of Alex, the doctor I'm seeing."
Erin hooted. "Twins dating twins?" Caitlin was younger and shorter than Erin, but the two were often mistaken for twins because of their hard-to-tame red hair, straight eyebrows above blue eyes, and strong jaws.
"Why not? They're good-looking, funny, and smart. Alex is an internist. Ben's a dermatologist."
Erin wrinkled her nose. "What do you say to someone who looks at itchy skin all day long?"
"Give him a chance. You'll never find a man if you don't go out."
"I can't see that your catch-and-release dating has helped you narrow the field down."
"But it's fun." Caitlin gave Erin a playful nudge. "How about it?"
Erin surrendered. "Why not? But they better not be wearing matching outfits."
The door flew open and thirteen-year-old Kayla bounded inside, skate bag in hand. She was followed by Erin's mother, Joanna, and her husband, Jake, who'd provided taxi service. After that, everything was a whirl as the rest of the extended family arrived: Cory, whom Erin had divorced before Hannah was born, his parents and widowed grandfather, and Erin's and Caitlin's father, Andrew, and his wife.
The house was full of conversation and laughter as everyone assembled around the big table in the dining room. Partway through dinner Andrew stood with a glass of sparkling grape juice in hand. "To Erin. A talented woman, loving mother, and wonderful daughter. Happy birthday. And to Kayla. When you were too young to care about old family history, you claimed me as your Grandpa Andy and insisted Lottie and I be invited to family gatherings. If you hadn't, we wouldn't be here today."
After everyone had toasted Erin and her birthday cake was being served, Andrew said, "Lottie and I have news. We've decided to downsize, and we've bought a new house."
He was inundated with questions, but Erin hardly listened to the answers. Their leaving the stately house in St. Paul could mean only one thing: Lottie's multiple sclerosis was getting worse.
"I've got news, too," Caitlin said. "I've talked Erin into double-dating with me."
"Hallelujah!" Joanna said. Kayla added, "You go, Mom."
But the reaction wasn't universally positive. Mark grimaced, and Cory's parents, Skipp and Linda Johnson, attempted to look pleased but failed. Erin knew they still harbored the hope that she and Cory might get back together.
As for Cory, when he caught her eye, he gave her a grin and a thumbs-up.
It was after eleven before Erin climbed the stairs to her bedroom, the happiness of the evening dampened now by the longing for someone with whom to share it. Most of the time she kept herself too busy to feel lonely, but at times like this, she missed the emotional intimacy and partnership that that been the best part of her marriage to Cory.
She hated admitting that because it made her feel vulnerable to her longing. She didn't want to risk falling in love again. Going out with the dermatologist wouldn't pose that kind of risk. The men Caitlin knew were more interested in a pleasant evening than in a serious relationship.
With a sigh, Erin changed into her long, flannel nightgown-April nights could still be cold-and climbed into her bed. It was a long time before she fell asleep.
E-mail, April 22, 1996
Dear COBs,
I let Caitlin talk me into going on a double date. With twins! I hate to admit it, but I really liked my twin, Ben. (Think Tom Cruise but taller.) I let him know right from the first that I was a mother and a Mormon-and he still asked me out again. I said yes. What was I thinking?
Your Erin
