Their Wander Canyon Wish. Allie Pleiter
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in a big city like Denver—that seemed impossible to her. You couldn’t indulge in that kind of disregard. Good, upstanding people had to care about their reputation. Community standing still meant something, didn’t it? Her parents had taught her that. She was still trying to hang on to that belief. Of all the things Landon had taken from her, she wasn’t going to let integrity be one of them.
Wyatt Walker declared himself “honest.” She believed him to be—blatantly, even tactlessly forthright. Honest was one thing, but Wyatt was also defiant and more than a bit reckless. Truth be told, if the messy state of the garage was any indication, he was also rather disorganized. If she clung to anything in life, it was organization.
So why did she care even one whit about how messy the man kept his garage? It wasn’t as if he needed efficiency to recommend his work. He had been—and clearly still was—handsome enough to get away with just about anything he wanted. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had more female customers than male. After all, he wielded that dashing smile like he knew exactly the effect it had...on other women.
Well, it wasn’t going to have any effect on her. Marilyn wasn’t even the slightest bit interested in romantic relationships. Especially with men in possession of dashing smiles. Even if she found some perfect man here in Wander Canyon—which was unlikely at best—people might talk. Small-town vistas always looked quaint, but small-town tongues could be cruel. She guessed a year—if not more—would need to pass before any date she might go on wouldn’t immediately be labeled as too soon. The fact she was such a young widow wouldn’t matter.
The fact that her marriage to Landon had grown cold couldn’t matter, because she couldn’t let that come to light. Not even her mother knew how the love had somehow drained out of her marriage to Landon. She couldn’t bear for anyone to know how powerless she was to stop Landon’s growing disregard. Oh, they looked happy from the outside—Landon always made sure of that. Marital strife was unacceptable for Denver’s next promising candidate for the state Senate. He’d made it quite clear that her role was to smile, look happy and tout him as promising and successful. There were days Marilyn felt she was married to a resume, not a loving father and husband. It had become a lonely way to live, and his death simply deepened the emptiness.
Nope, she told herself. None of that. The very last thing she needed on this glorious morning alone was to give in to any kind of pity party. These days had to be about looking forward, and getting herself and the girls settled.
Marilyn sat for a moment on one of the rough-hewn log benches that dotted Wander’s Main Street. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and fell back into the ritual that had gotten her through the months since Landon’s fatal car accident. Three things I’m glad for, Lord, and three things I need. How many times had she stopped wherever she was and taken a moment to thank God for three little blessings in her life and ask Him for three small needs? There had been scores of dark and panicked moments since that somber-looking pair of police officers had arrived at her door. How many times had those blessings and that dose of provision pulled her back from the brink?
I’m thankful to have found an honest mechanic.
I’m thankful to have a morning to myself.
I’m thankful the girls are excited about starting school here.
I need to feel like I have a plan—or even just the start of one.
I need a job. Or maybe even just an interview.
I need a friend.
Right there was perhaps the reason Wyatt Walker had unnerved her so. He was being friendly, and she desperately needed a friend. Of course, one could never count on Wyatt’s friendliness as just that. Did the man even know how to be friends with a woman? Even a definitely not-in-the-market widow with children in tow? The absurdity of that thought almost made her laugh.
A plan. This morning’s solitude was exactly what she needed to get started on one. Opening her eyes, Marilyn chose her next step. Lunch and planning. She rose resolutely off the bench and began walking away from the garage and the unnerving Wyatt Walker and toward The Depot. The little railroad car diner that sat next to the carousel felt like the perfect place to ponder her next steps. A quiet lunch where she didn’t have to cut the crusts off anyone’s sandwich seemed as good a place to start as any.
She ordered a lovely, grown-up salad and iced tea, and reached into her handbag for the notebook she always kept with her. Marilyn had just uncapped her pen when she noticed a woman standing beside her table.
“Mari?” A vaguely familiar face popped into view. The bright-eyed, curvy woman in a brightly colored scarf peered down at her, a to-go container balanced in one hand with an enormous cup of soda in the other. “Is that you?”
Marilyn was surprised and grateful the woman’s name popped up out of her memory. “Tessa?”
“It is you. I heard someone at church say you were back.” Tessa Kennedy glanced at the empty place setting opposite Marilyn at the small table. “You all by yourself here? Want some company?”
She did. Desperately. “Oh, I don’t want to keep you.”
Tessa sat down immediately, as if it were no big deal. “You’re not. I keep telling myself not to eat at my desk anyway.”
God’s little provisions. They never failed, did they?
Tessa flipped open the cardboard container to reveal a heap of deliciously rich-looking macaroni and cheese. With a generous portion of barbecued pork piled on top. The delectable smell suddenly made Marilyn’s salad look far too sensible.
Tessa smirked and leaned in. “The fast-breaking news at the Wander Gazette really isn’t that fast-breaking, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s right, you were a journalism major.” Marilyn hadn’t known Tessa that well in high school, but they’d kept up a bit over the years. She’d always been friendly, and clearly that hadn’t changed.
Tessa stirred ice in her drink. Mari remembered she drank vats of diet cola in school, and evidently that hadn’t changed, either. “Yes, well, it’d be a stretch to call me a journalist now. Small-town reporter struggling my way through single parenthood of a teenage boy comes a bit closer.” She paused to let Marilyn’s memory catch up while she tackled the mound of food with her fork. “Nick and I split a year after Gregory was born. Mr. Right hasn’t shown up yet, so it’s just me.” Her hand stilled and her face changed. “Oops. Me and my mouth. It’s just you now with your girls—twins, isn’t it?—I’m so sorry.”
“Landon’s been gone nine months.”
“I remember reading about that accident. We ran a story on it, seeing as how you were from here and everything. He seemed like a great man and a huge loss.”
She never knew how to respond to statements like that. To lots of people, Landon was a great man. For her, he’d stopped being that well before he died, and that never seemed like the kind of thing to say out loud, ever. “Yes,” she replied.
“The single-mom thing. No easy road, is it? At least you’ve got cute little girls. Teenage boys defy explanation, let me tell you.”
“The girls are a terrific comfort to me.” It sounded corny and poetic, but it was true. Maddie and Margie were absolute lifelines to her right now. “A real blessing.”
Tess grinned. “I try to remember that Greg’s a blessing. Some days it’s harder than others. Where are your girls?”
“Mom took the girls to the grocery store and shopping for school backpacks so I could bring the car in for service and have a morning to myself. They start first grade here in the fall.”
“Little pink backpacks,” Tess practically mewled. “They probably have sparkles and kittens on them, huh?”
“Margie’s never been the pink sparkly type. Maddie will come home with something girlie,