Smooth-Talking Cowboy

Those words tasted like a lie, too.

“You can always talk to me about these things,” Tamara said. “I broke up with your father more than once before we ended up getting married. He was dragging his feet.”

“Dad dragged his feet?”

“Terribly. And sometimes the breakup really is what you need to get some perspective. So, hopefully that won’t be a long time coming for him.”

“Hopefully,” Olivia said.

Tamara leaned forward, pulling Olivia into a hug. Olivia suddenly felt very small, and young. Rumpled. Nothing made her feel more fragile than hugging her mother. She took a shaky breath, her shoulders shuddering, and tried to hold back the tears that were building. She was tired. She really needed coffee. Or she was going to fall apart.

“If he doesn’t, then he’s not the right one,” Tamara said, taking a step back and patting Olivia on the shoulder.

“I guess so,” Olivia said, taking a deep breath.

Words like right and wrong felt all jumbled and confused inside of her. Along with everything else.

“Everything will work out right for you, Olivia,” her mom said. “You’ve done everything right. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Olivia mumbled. “I need coffee.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you to that. I’m going out for breakfast with some of the ladies. Though, that new cook at Sugar Cup doesn’t have the best customer service.”

Olivia knew that her mother was referring to the very unpersonable Frederick Holt, who made a habit of serving up scrambles with a scowl.

“I’m sure if anyone can make him smile, it’s you.” Not necessarily because her mother was the friendliest, but because she was more formidable than most anyone. Hell on high heels. Always tactful, but never a pushover.

“We’ll see,” her mother responded. She gave Olivia’s hand one last squeeze before breezing back out the door and getting in her little red sports car, the perk of turning fifty, she had called it.

Olivia closed her white front door, then stood there for a moment looking at her entryway. It was perfect, undisturbed as ever. Her mother had decorated the little cottage that Olivia now called home. And it was as perfect now as it had been the day she moved in five years ago.

There was a little rose garland with a ribbon on it above the door, framing it in a very charming fashion. Shabby chic furniture and country details were spread throughout the room. Cute little roosters and splashes of red amidst pale yellow and white.