Come Sundown

by Nora Roberts

  So on a rare day off—when she’d have preferred to sleep late, to take a long, solo ride on Leo—Bodine searched for an empty slot in a parking garage in town.

  Since every mother’s son and daughter seemed to have the same idea, it took some doing.

  At least the morning held clear, she thought as she finally maneuvered her truck into a slot. Cold turned into bitter, but it was bright and cloudless.

  After she climbed out, hung her purse cross-body over her coat, she eyed Jessica. “When I find my mother’s perfect gift, and I will, we’re going for pizza at Biga.”

  “All right.”

  “You’ve eaten there, haven’t you?”

  “No.” Jessica pulled out a lipstick, and without benefit of a mirror, perfectly retouched her lips.

  “How’d you do that?” Bodine demanded.

  “Do what?”

  “Put on that lipstick without looking?”

  “Well, I know where my lips are.”

  Bodine knew where hers were, too, but she’d like to learn that particular trick. “Did you say you haven’t eaten at Biga’s? Ever?”

  “If I end up eating in Missoula, I usually have a salad.”

  “That’s just sad.” Bodine took the stairs to street level. “You come in here a couple times a month, but haven’t had the best pizza in Montana—and likely anywhere else.”

  Jessica answered with a pitying look. “I have to remind you I’m from New York. There’s no better pizza than New York pizza.”

  “We’ll see what you say after.” On the sidewalk, Bodine put her hands on her hips, scanned the pretty town with its clever shops, restaurants, breweries. “I don’t have a single good idea in my head for my mother.”

  “Something will click. I thought I was a discerning gift-giver, but compared to you, I’m a peasant. Honestly, Bo.” Always a happy shopper, Jessica hooked an arm with Bodine’s. “Those photographs you had enlarged and tinted for Cora, and that really lovely triple frame? It’s so perfect, so thoughtful.”

  “I got the frame from Callen’s sister’s shop. They have great stuff. The Crafty Art.”

  “I love that shop! Cal’s sister owns it?”

  “She and her pretty adorable husband, yeah.”

  “I’ve burned up my credit card in there more than once. But the gift’s really about the photographs.”

  “The wedding picture of her and my grandfather’s a winner, and the one of the two of them with my mom is so sweet. Just the way he was holding both of them so close. It’s the one of Nana and Mom, with Alice as a baby, that may stir things up a little.”

  When Jessica said nothing, Bodine added, “You can ask.”

  “I know there are some difficult feelings about Alice. That she ran away when she was young.”

  “The day of Mom’s wedding. Just lit out, left a bratty little note from what I can gather, took off in one of the trucks. Going to California to be a movie star.” Bodine rolled her eyes. “I know she sent a couple of postcards, then nothing. Not even one word to her widowed mother.”

  Since the door was opened, Jessica poked around a little more. “I imagine they tried to find her.”

  “Nobody talks about it very much, as it upsets Nana, puts her at odds with Grammy. I can’t blame Grammy for her hard feelings there, watching her daughter grieve and suffer all this time. I guess I can’t blame Nana for her feelings, either.”

  They passed a man who wore reindeer knee socks outside his jeans and sleigh bells around his neck.

  “Alice is her daughter, the same as my mother. Which puts Mom solidly between them, and that’s a hard place. So, not much talk, but kids know how to hear things, and we heard enough to know Nana hired a detective for a while, and they found the truck abandoned in Nevada, I think. And Alice just disappeared. It’s not hard to do, I guess, if you want to.”

  “Brutal for Cora,” Jessica comforted.

  “Yeah. Grammy won’t much like my gift to Nana, but I figure I’m offsetting that by digging out the christening gown her own grandmother made for her and having it restored and framed.”

  “It’s such gorgeous work. And coming up with the little photos of all the babies who wore it was genius.”

  Bodine paused in front of a shop. “I have my moments. Now, since I’ve often thought if I ever came across Alice Bodine, I’d want to punch her straight off, that’s enough about her. Let’s try this place, see if something clicks.”

  Nothing did, but at Callen’s sister’s shop she hit gold.

  “I should’ve known to come here first. I was hoping Savannah would be in today.”

  “I come in here every time I’m in Missoula. I must have met her.”

  “Really pregnant right now.”

  “Yes! She’s wonderful. And now I have another Montana connection.”

  Bodine held up a fancy ladies ostrich-skin clutch. “This is Sal. Purple’s her favorite, and this isn’t something she’d buy for herself. Isn’t practical.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s beautiful.”

  “We go back, me and Sal. She does love girlie.”

  “Many of us do, and so does Chelsea. I’m getting her this scarf.”

  Bodine eyed it—it looked like a painting of a Montana sky at sunset. “It’s more than pretty, but that’s not going to keep her neck warm.”

  “It’s not about that.” Jessica swirled it around her neck, twisted this, flipped that, and had it looking like something out of a fashion magazine.

  “How did you do that without looking? And don’t say you know where your neck is.”

  “Mad scarf skills.” But she walked over to a mirror now, brushed her fingers over the thin, soft silk. “I want it for my own, so it’s a good gift.”

  “I’d never find anything for anybody if that was my yardstick. I just … Oh!”

  “What is it? Oh, the painting. That’s your house, isn’t it?”

  “It’s the ranch house. There’s snow on the mountains, on the high peaks, but the fall flowers are in the pots and the beds. And the ginkgo trees have gone gold.”

  The shopkeeper, sensing multiple sales, wandered over. “One of our local artists’ work. I love the vibrant color of the ginkgos, and the wonderfully sprawling lines of the ranch house, and how the sky’s showing red behind the mountains. It makes me want to sit on that old bench under the trees and watch the sun set.”

  “What did the artist call it?”

  “Serenity. I think it suits. That’s the Bodine Ranch. The family owns and runs the Bodine Resort, one of the finest places to vacation or just dine in the state. The family’s lived there, about an hour’s drive from Missoula, for generations.”

  “You can just see the near paddock in the corner there, and there’s Chester sleeping on the front porch. Our dog,” Bodine said to the shopkeeper. “I live there. Bodine Longbow.” She offered her hand.

  The shopkeeper flushed with embarrassed pleasure as she gripped Bodine’s hand. “Oh, well for goodness’ sake! Listen to me explaining it all to you. I’m so pleased to meet you, Miss Longbow. Stasha—the artist—she’s going to be over the moon you admired her painting.”

  “I hope she’s just as pleased I’m buying her painting. For my mother for Christmas. You can tell her I admire her work very much, but it’s the ginkgos that sealed it.”

  Bodine turned to Jessica. “On a crisp fall evening, on that bench under those trees, my father first kissed my mother.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” the shopkeeper said again, waving a hand in front of her face as her eyes filled. “That is so romantic. And this, this is like kismet, isn’t it? Oh, I have to call Stasha. Would you mind if I did?”

  “Not a bit. You can tell her when my mother relates the story of that first kiss, she said it felt like her whole world had turned to gold, like the leaves overhead.”

  Now the shopkeeper dug in her pocket for a tissue.

  “How long would it take her to paint them in?” Jessica wondered. Then caught herself. “Sorry. I
was thinking out loud.”

  “Well, Jesus, Jessie, that’s the best damn idea ever! Could she do that?” Bodine demanded. “It’d be more of an impression of people, wouldn’t it, from the distance. I can get her photos of them from back then, but it wouldn’t be like she’d have to paint portraits.”

  “I’m calling her right now. She lives right in town. I’m calling her. Oh my goodness.”

  “Jessica.” Bodine draped her arm around Jessica’s shoulder. “I hit perfection on this, and you boosted me up a full rung over that. She’s going to be thrilled. Just thrilled. I’m buying the pizza.”

  Over the years, Bodine had enjoyed shopping—occasionally—with her mother, with the grannies. Together or one at a time, even though it seemed her mother, on a hunt for a black purse, for instance, felt obligated to look at the universe of same before making a decision.

  But she had to admit that an excursion with Jessica, and the exceptional success, topped all. She loaded up on gag gifts—she especially liked the boot socks with cowboys clad only in boots, hats, and tighty-whities.

  Flushed with the fun of it, she was primed for Jessica’s expert wheedling, and ended up buying herself a red leather vest—a color she usually bypassed—a white shirt with fancy cuffs to go under it, and a new lipstick she’d forget to put on more than half the time.

  Plus, anytime she could down a couple slices of Biga pizza equaled a very good day.

  Bodine bit into hers, watching Jessica. “Well?”

  “It’s good.” Jessica took a second bite, considered, savored. “It’s really good.”

  “Rest my case. Though I don’t know why you’d want spinach all over your half.”

  “Healthy and delicious. And your case doesn’t rest. It’s really excellent pizza, but—”

  Chewing, Bodine wagged a finger in the air. “That’s just New York stubbornness.”

  “One of these days, we’re going to do some shopping in New York, you and I.”

  Biting into her slice, Bodine snickered. “Yeah, that’s going to happen.”

  “I’ll find a way to see it does. And when it does, I’m taking you to Lombardi’s. Although…” Jessica ate a little more. “I will admit, knowing this place is here makes me miss New York a lot less.”

  “You still do?”

  “Off and on. I may never get used to the quiet. I still wake up in the middle of the night sometimes because it’s so quiet. Or I’ll glance out the window expecting to see buildings, traffic, and there’s space and fields and mountains.”

  “Seems odd things to miss. Noise and traffic.”

  “And yet.” On a laugh, Jessica sipped some wine. “Some days I miss the pace, the sheer force of energy—and the Thai place around the corner. But then I’m struck by those mountains, and the air, the work I really, really love, and the people I’ve gotten to know. And now I’m learning to ride a horse.”

  “How’s that going? I wanted to come down, but I thought for now you might not want an audience.”

  “You’ve got that right. Your grandmother’s amazing, and she’s a very patient teacher. I’ve stopped feeling like I’m taking my life in my hands every time I get up on Maybelle. That right there isn’t bad for three lessons.”

  “We’ll have you out on a cattle drive in no time.”

  “Let me take a page from your book.” Jessica toasted her. “Yeah, that’s going to happen.”

  “You’re going to surprise yourself. I don’t want to get into business too much, but I want to say you’ve become, in a short time, a vital member of the resort family. I’ve come to depend on you, to know I can, and that makes me better at my job.”

  “That means a lot. I love working for you, for the family. God, I really love coordinating with Rory. He’s so smart and creative, and he makes me laugh every single day.”

  “He’s flirting with Chelsea, isn’t he?”

  Jessica tried to poker up, but her lips curved as she lifted her pizza. “Maybe. It’s hard to blame him. She’s adorable, on top of being bright and energetic. She shines on big-picture concepts, and knows how to handle details when I toss them at her. She’s become another reason I love the work. I wasn’t sure I would.”

  “It’s hard to believe you were unsure of anything, moving across the country the way you did.”

  “I took this leap at a difficult time in my life, and told myself it was better to take the leap and make a mistake than to stand still and be unhappy. I’m glad I took the leap and learned it wasn’t a mistake but exactly the right thing.”

  Studying Bodine, Jessica sipped more wine. “I think it’s safe now for me to ask why you hired me. The woman from New York who’d never been west of the Mississippi.”

  “Well, your résumé made my eyes pop. Your résumé and your references made me do a butt jiggle in my chair. I didn’t know if you’d stick. You were sad.”

  “I was.”

  “But you could say I decided to take a leap, too. I had a good feeling all along. The first phone interviews, the face-to-face when you flew out. I’ve got a lot of Irish in me, and Chippewa. It sort of negates the more practical French blood that’s in there. I believe in feelings, and following them when you can.”

  “So here we are.”

  “And here’s to us.” Bodine tapped her glass to Jessica’s.

  The sun dipped toward the white peaks, giving them a gloss of pale gold, as Bodine drove toward home.

  With her Christmas list complete—and the painting even now in the hands of the jubilant artist for that last, sentimental touch—she foresaw clear sailing in these last two weeks before the big day.

  “I’m so glad you talked me into this. Even if I do think that red vest is a mistake.”

  “It looked amazing on you. You can pull off vivid colors. I don’t know why you don’t wear red and more jewel tones.”

  The absent tone had Bodine glancing over. With every mile Jessica had grown quieter, more subdued.

  “You okay?”

  “Hmm? Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” But she lapsed into silence again, seemed content to stare out the window as the light went soft with dusk.

  Then she straightened in her seat. “We’re friends.”

  “Sure.”

  On a frustrated sound, Jessica shook her head. “I’ve been careful about making friends nearly all my life. I make exceptionally good acquaintances, interesting casual friends—the sort you have a drink with every couple months. I’ve had work friends, but I’ve been careful about making friends who don’t have all those qualifications, those limitations.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Child of divorce maybe. I barely remember my parents being together, and honestly didn’t spend that much time with either one of them. My grandparents raised me. At first there was this illusion. You’re staying with us because your mother’s taking a trip or because your father’s working. After a while the illusion was obvious even to a child. My parents didn’t want me.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s—” Bodine couldn’t find words. “I’m just sorry.”

  “My grandparents did want me, loved me, and they showed me every day. But it’s a hard thing to shake. Your own parents don’t want you. Anyway, that’s probably the foundation for being careful about making friends. But we’re friends, and I really, really don’t want to screw that up.”

  “Why would you?”

  “I kissed Chase. Or he kissed me. I’d say we kissed each other by the time we were finished.”

  To give herself a moment to absorb, Bodine lifted a hand off the wheel, held it out in a stop gesture. “What?”

  “It wasn’t planned, on either side. The horse knocked me into him. Well, no, didn’t knock me, but the horse—Cal’s horse—sniffed at my hair, and it jolted me into Chase. Then it just happened.”

  “When? Thanksgiving?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew it.” Bodine shook her fist in the air. “Not the kiss, but I knew something. Chase had that flustered and trying not to
show it look he’s always gotten when he’s been up to something.”

  She put her hand back on the wheel, realized she’d punched the gas as well as the air, and eased off the speed a little. “A real