A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(54)

“Yes…I’ll do that.” Her hand squeezed the phone so hard, she thought her fingers might leave indentations.

“Ruth?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you called.”

The tension between her shoulders eased. “I am, too.”

She replaced the receiver, but her hand lingered on it for several minutes as she considered their short conversation. Already she felt better. Setting the phone back on the nightstand, she nearly collapsed against the pillows.

Annie’s sour mood improved fast, which was due, no doubt, to some old-fashioned retail therapy. Bethanne made her purchases in record time. The two of them returned to the hotel room, their arms loaded with packages.

Ruth talked to Annie about their shopping excursion as Bethanne hurriedly changed into her new outfit, complete with red cowboy boots. If her friend Anne Marie Roche, the local bookstore owner, could own a pair, then she could, too.

“How do I look?” she asked her mother-in-law, twirling around and modeling her new clothes.

Ruth frowned. “Like Dale Evans.”

“Dale who?” Annie asked.

“Never mind.” Ruth got her purse. “Come on, Annie, or we’ll be late.”

“Late? For what?”

“The show. I told you I wanted both of you to see it, and your mother obviously isn’t coming with me. I’ve got three tickets, for heaven’s sake. I have no intention of going alone.” She frowned. “Maybe I can scalp one of them.”

“Grandma!” Annie rolled her eyes. “Until yesterday I didn’t even know who this Andy person was.”

Bethanne didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. She was out the door before either of them had time to protest. Entering the lobby, she looked around, disappointed to see that Max hadn’t arrived yet. She found a vacant wingback chair by the fireplace, where she sat and waited—but not for long. A few minutes later, the elevator doors slid open and Max and Rooster stepped out.

Max looked even better than she remembered. For a moment all Bethanne could do was stare. He didn’t immediately see her, but when he did, a slow smile crossed his face.

“Hi,” she said, standing and walking toward him.

“Hi.” He met her halfway.

Bethanne held out her hands to him, and Max took her fingers in his.

“I didn’t ride all this way to hold hands,” he said. “I’m desperate for one of those hugs of yours.”

She was equally desperate to give him one, knowing the kisses would come later. As they embraced, she closed her eyes. His arms felt so good around her, so right.

“Twenty hours on the bike and all he wants is a hug?” Rooster laughed. “There’s definitely something wrong.”

“Twenty hours?” Bethanne asked, breaking away to study him.

“We took off the minute he got your message,” Rooster elaborated.

“Where were you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m here now,” Max said, glaring at his friend.

“Vegas,” Rooster supplied.

“Oh, Max.” She held her palms against his face, wanting more than anything to kiss him. She couldn’t. Not here in the hotel lobby, but soon. Very soon.

Seventeen

“Daddy,” Annie said the minute she was in her assigned seat at the Moon River Theater. She didn’t appreciate having to attend this show with her grandmother, especially since her mom got out of it. Fortunately, that meant the seat beside her wasn’t occupied. “It’s Annie,” she said, leaning into the empty seat and doing her best to keep her voice down.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did you get to Branson okay?”

“We made it fine.”

“What’s that noise?”

Annie wouldn’t have believed old people could make such a racket. The noise level was as high as a rock concert. Well, maybe not quite as high, but it was up there. She pressed one finger to her other ear.

“I’m sitting with Grandma, waiting for Andy Williams to come onstage, but I thought I should call you right away.”

“Grandma dragged you with her to see Andy Williams?” He sounded far too amused, in her opinion.

“Don’t go there, Dad. Grandma also got tickets for the Twelve Irish Tenors, and she expects me to go to that one, too.” She leaned even farther into the empty seat so Grandma Hamlin wouldn’t hear. This was ridiculous. If she wanted to listen to tenors, she’d attend church services more often.

Her father laughed outright.

“Dad, this isn’t funny!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

He wasn’t nearly as apologetic as he should be.

“I’m glad you made it safely to Branson,” he said. “Thanks for the updates on your travels. Otherwise, I’d be worried about the three of you on the road.”

“That’s not why I’m calling,” Annie said. She didn’t like being a tattletale, but someone had to tell him what was happening with her mother and Max.

“What’s wrong?” Any amusement left his voice.

“It’s Mom.”

Her father went completely silent.

“Did you hear me, Dad?”

“Is she talking to Max again?”

“It’s worse than that. He’s here.”