Kitabı oku: «A McKaslin Homecoming», sayfa 2

Chapter Two

“What are you doing carrying your own bags?” Caleb didn’t mean to startle her, but he could see by the look on her face that he had. There she was, teetering up the walkway toward the porch steps, a heavy, battered duffel in each hand. While the bags weren’t big, they were heavy. He remembered that. “Put ’em down. You’re in Montana now. I can’t let a woman do the heavy work while I watch.”

“Isn’t that a little chauvinist?”

“Maybe where you’re from, but I call it doing the right thing.” He crossed over Mary’s lawn. “Besides, you don’t know where you’re going.”

“Uh, how about into the house?”

“So you think.” What was a guy to do? “It’s one thing to have an independent streak, it’s another to let a man stand around gettin’ lazy.”

That made her smile and he liked this because her shyness faded away and her unique loveliness shone.

“One thing I don’t approve of is a lazy man.” Amusement warmed the violet of her eyes. “I suppose I should put you to work and keep you respectably useful.”

“Exactly. It’s for the greater good.”

She lowered the bags with a thud at his feet.

“Mary has the carriage house ready for you, out back.” He got a good grip on the crackled handles of the bags and heaved. “Are there rocks in here? Weights? Or really big shoes?”

“Books.”

That explained it. He’d noticed the backpack. “Are you a student?”

“Yep. Classes start in three weeks.”

She was a little old for a college girl, although she might be putting herself through. That could slow a student down, working full-time and juggling classes. He should have noticed the little details. Her car was twenty-years-old and if he’d described it as having had seen better days, he would have been kind. She was as neat as a pin, but her clothes were simple and not exactly designer. Her flip-flops were wearing thin. And then there was the backpack—typical student ware.

Curious, he led the way along the path curving around the house. “What’s your major?”

“I’m finishing up a master’s in business. Hey, don’t look so surprised.”

“You want to be a businesswoman?”

“A lot of people do. Why?”

How did he say it? “For some reason I figured, since you lived in L.A.—”

“That you thought I’d be like my mom and want to be an actress.” Hurt shadowed her eyes and dimmed her smile.

“Hey, I didn’t mean any insult.”

“I get that a lot.” She shrugged one slim shoulder, as if it were no big deal.

Caleb figured it was. There was something about her, something he still couldn’t put his finger on. But there was a lot to like about her.

“Oh, there are the horses.” She changed the subject as they circled around the side of the house. “I hope the gate is secure.”

“I roped it up good. It’s gotten to be a sort of game to Malia. She’s smart, I’ve got to give her credit for that. I’ll have to order a new latch and hope it’s the one she won’t be able to figure out. Thanks for your help back there. If you hadn’t driven the truck back, right now I’d be walking in the hot sun to fetch it. Would you like something to cool you off?”

Suddenly his voice sounded distant and tinny. What was happening? Lauren’s feet froze in place at the top of the walk. Emotion spun through her, unnamed and misty, like fog rolling in with the Pacific’s tides. Was it a memory of the past? Or the wish for one?

“Are you okay?” Caleb stopped, reversed and came to stand in front of her. His big shadow fell across her and it felt oddly intimate. “You’re pale all of a sudden.”

“I just…I think I remember this place.”

It was there, just beyond her reach, an image she couldn’t bring into focus. It remained fuzzy, hidden by the mist of twenty years, but it was there. A voice she couldn’t hear, a faint scent of apples and cinnamon. Leaves rustling through the trees and a feeling she couldn’t pin down that remained cloaked in fog.

The hint of memory disappeared, leaving her empty and alone. Her heart ached with loss and she didn’t know why.

“It doesn’t seem like a very good memory.”

Caleb’s voice surprised her. For a moment it was as if she were alone in the dappled sunlight. But he was there, towering so close he filled her field of vision.

“Why don’t you sit down,” he suggested, “right here out of the sun.”

There was something in his words, something kind and unexpected. Caleb Stone took her arm, his strong hand cupping her elbow, and guided her. She sank onto the bottom step on the porch, shaded by the house and the overhead trees.

Caleb’s hand moved to her shoulder. A comforting gesture. He clearly thought she was ill. “It’s over a hundred in the shade. This mountain air is so dry, you dehydrate before you know it. I kept you out in the sun too long.”

Her chest twisted so tight, she couldn’t answer. She didn’t think it was the heat and sun that was affecting her so much. It was the past and this reaction was something she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t come here to dredge up hurt. No, she’d come out of curiosity. She wanted to know where she’d come from. Who she was. Maybe that would help her figure out better where she was headed in life.

“You stay right here.” His big fingers squeezed once, gentle and soothing, sending a rush of peace through her troubled heart. “I’ll be right back.”

His boots knelled against the wood steps and the wraparound porch. A screen door squeaked open somewhere at the side of the house.

The pressure in her chest increased. Was she upset by this stranger’s kindness? Or from memories, unseen and without shape, remembered in her heart? And why? Why had it always remained a blank? Mom refused to talk about the past. Refused to say if there were any siblings, a father, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents left behind. People that might have mattered to her.

Caleb’s steps approached her from behind with an easygoing cadence. She heard ice tinkling in a glass. “Here.”

She stared at the tall glass of lemonade he offered. The scent was bright and sour-sweet as he lowered the glass into her hand.

“You’re still not looking too well. Did you drive straight through?”

She shook her head. Took the glass. Stared at the lemony goodness. Here was the edge of that memory. She tasted the lemonade and already knew the flavorful and sweet-tart taste before it hit her tongue. Frustrated, she wished there was more to her recollection.

“You rest here. Rehydrate.” Caleb rose. He remained behind her, out of her sight, but his presence was substantial all the same. “I’ll take your bags out to the carriage house.”

It had been a long time since anyone had helped her. “Thanks, Caleb.”

“Sure thing.” Then he was gone, leaving her alone with the glass of lemonade.

Maybe her lack of memory was a sign. Her mind had buried something so deep on purpose—to protect her or because it hadn’t mattered. She wanted answers, but what if she didn’t like what she found out?

I could get hurt.

Uncertainty and regret swirled into a black mass in the middle of her stomach. Her hands began to tremble, sloshing the lemonade around in the tall cool glass.

What would her grandmother think of her? Would there be disappointment on her face? Would she, like her daughter, Lauren’s mother, find so much to criticize?

So many worries. She would give them to the Lord. She took a shaky breath, trying to pull herself together. Hot wind breezed against her face like a touch, reminding her of where she was. The drum of a man’s sure and leisurely gait knelled on the porch boards behind her. She could feel the vibration of his steps roll through her.

Lauren couldn’t exactly say why she was so aware of Caleb’s Stone presence.

He sat next to her and shaded his eyes with one broad, sun-browned hand. He gazed down the long stretch of gravel driveway. “You feel a little nervous about all this?”

“Something like that.” Although nervous didn’t begin to describe it. As nice as Caleb seemed, he was a stranger to her, and she didn’t feel comfortable talking about something so private. Time to change the subject. “The horses are all right?”

“I’ve got to get back and give them a rub down and a little water, but I had to see to you first. It can’t be easy coming back after all these years.”

“Coming back? I don’t remember this place at all. Nothing.”

“You were pretty young when you left.”

“When my mother took me.” There was a difference. All she could remember was crying and then choking on her own sobs, bouncing around on the vinyl backseat of her mom’s 1962 Ford as they drove away forever. She’d been two. She could still hear her mom’s voice, trembling with that high, nervous tone she had when everything was going wrong. “We’re meant for better things, you and me. You’ll see, sweetness.”

Better things had been a long string of shabby apartments—and sometimes worse—until Lauren had struck out on her own. In a way, she’d always been alone. She didn’t mind it. She’d never known anything else.

He broke into her thoughts. “I’m a good friend with your brother. Spence. I know your sisters real well.”

“Then you’re not only a neighbor, but a family friend.”

“You could say that.”

But what wasn’t he saying, Lauren wondered. Was he starting to piece things together and beginning to wonder about her? If she was like her mother? She took a sip of lemonade. The flavor burst across her tongue more sweet than tart and that tugged at lost memories, too.

Although she didn’t say anything, Caleb kept talking. He steepled his hands. “Do you remember your brother at all? He’s the oldest. You know that, right?”

The lemonade caught halfway down, sticking like a heavy ball in her throat, turning sour. No longer sweet. “My grandmother had mentioned my brother and sisters. But I don’t remember them.”

“You don’t even remember your family?”

She couldn’t swallow. It was even more impossible to talk. She stared at her flip-flops, blue to match her summer top. It felt shameful, not to remember. Like she didn’t care enough to, but that wasn’t right. More like she was afraid to remember anything that happened before sitting on that backseat with her mother scolding her to shut up. Lauren remembered biting down on her lip to keep the sobs inside and staring hard at her little denim sneakers with the orange laces.

She’d only allowed herself to cry in private since.

Now she felt a hot burn behind her eyes and her vision blurred. “I was hoping to find out that my mother was wrong. That they hadn’t forgotten me. That they didn’t want me to go in the first place.”

Caleb didn’t get it. He knew mostly from rumor about the mother, of course. It had been a terrible shame for the family, how the young mother of five had run away, abandoning her home and husband and older children. “Why did you wait so long?”

“It’s complicated. And p-painful.” She shrugged a slender shoulder—too slender of a shoulder.

He believed her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful.”

“Being here is painful. My mom wasn’t exactly honest. She said that I didn’t have any grandparents who were still alive. And that the family, well—” she paused. “They hadn’t w-wanted us. Me. That my father signed me away.”

“That wasn’t the case. It’s not my business and I’m only a friend, but I do know that much. Look. There’s your grandmother.”

A gleam at the far bend in the driveway caught her attention. A faint cloud of dust rose up behind an oncoming vehicle. Her grandmother? Lauren’s heart kicked hard against her sternum. Nerves roiled up again. And the worries. What if this didn’t go as well as she hoped? What if she was a disappointment to her grandmother? Or her grandmother to her?

You can do this, Lauren.

She took a steady breath, sat up straight and set the glass of lemonade down on the step, up against the newel so it would be out of the way. Sunlight reflected off the oncoming windshield. Eternity passed while she watched that vehicle in the distance take shape and form and color. A gray, perfectly shined luxury sedan rolled to a stop alongside her rattletrap car.

The hood ornament glinted like an unreachable promise and there was a woman, gray-haired and somber, staring at her over the hood. Hard to tell behind the dark designer sunglasses what her first impression of Lauren was, but her mouth was a straight, unsmiling line.

She is disappointed in me. Lauren’s heart fell to the floor. Emotion wedged so tight in her throat she couldn’t swallow. She tried to rise, but her knees were too weak. Had she come all this way for nothing?

Then she felt a rock-solid hand at her elbow. A man’s big hand cupped her elbow and steadied her in comfort and support. She fought the urge to step away; his touch calmed her and she didn’t mind leaning on him, just a little. When she turned to thank him his steady eyes were soft with kindness. Kindness.

“It’ll be fine.” He sounded so sure. As sure as his hold on her arm helping her to stand.

His words and his decency made all the difference. Her knees felt watery, but they held her weight as she stood in the dappled sunlight and felt her grandmother’s scrutiny. The car door whispered open and the woman emerged. She had sleek silver hair cut in a bob that curled thickly at her jawline. Porcelain skin. A dainty chin. The lines of her face were crisp and clean and familiar. Like her mother’s. Like her own.

But the elegance and grace of the woman, the power and dignity were different. Mary Whitman commanded attention. She took a regal step forward. Dressed in quality clothes, she looked casual and tasteful. She wore sleek tailored tan slacks and a coordinating cashmere cardigan and mock-turtle-neck shell. Accents of gold—fine gold, no fourteen karat stuff—glinted at her earlobes and throat, wrist and fingers. Her designer purse and shoes matched perfectly and looked pristine, unscuffed.

Lauren had never felt so small. She felt painfully aware of her wrinkled khaki shorts and her simple summer top—not exactly designer or the latest fashion. Her discount-store rubber flip-flops were nearly worn out.

Only now did it occur to her that maybe she should have stopped at a fast-food place and used the bathroom to change into nicer clothes. With a sinking feeling, she had to admit that nothing in her wardrobe would make a better impression on this woman. She’d assumed her mother had come from simple beginnings.

She smoothed the wrinkled cuff of her shorts and tasted her nervousness. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Lauren.”

Okay, that was obvious. But the woman—her grandmother—wasn’t saying anything. She just stood there, one hand resting on the side of her car door, not moving a muscle.

It was Caleb Stone who broke the silence. “Mary, are you all right?”

He dropped his grip on Lauren’s arm and moved forward. In that moment, Lauren saw the caring. The genuine concern. He had a good heart.

“No.” The older woman nearly choked on the word. She lifted her hand to her chest, pressing against her throat. “The sight of her simply knocks the breath from me. Lauren, you’re the spitting image. It’s just uncanny.”

“Of Katherine?” Caleb asked.

Lauren didn’t know who Katherine was. She was only aware of the pain beginning to fill her chest.

It’s my mom, she thought, knowing there had been a terrible rift between her grandmother and mother, something horrible enough for each to ignore the other for two decades. Without a doubt it was her mom’s fault.

“I—I look like L-Linda, I know.” Her voice caught on her mother’s name, or maybe it was the swirling emotions and fears that made her stutter. “But I’m n-nothing like her. I don’t want to upset you.”

“No, I’m not upset. Just surprised.” Mary Whitman took off her sunglasses, exposing gentle green eyes brimming with tears. “You look something like Linda, true, but heavens, look at you. You’re the very image of my sister, gone this last year. It’s like she’s come to life again. Goodness. Come closer, child.”

I don’t remember this woman, Lauren thought, taking a stumbling step forward. But she wanted to. With all of her heart. Surely there were some memories tucked away. She tried to resurrect them. Images of homemade cookies or hot chocolate—but there was only a blank. Nothing at all. No recollections of a younger-looking version of this woman before the silver hair and the gentle wrinkles.

Mary Whitman stood tall with a poise that came from a lifetime of rising above adversity. Lauren could sense it, see it in the dignity of the woman’s tear-filled eyes. Tears that did not fall. Her arms stretched out, eager for a hug.

Lauren came from a childhood without a lot of affection. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had hugged her. The thought was uncomfortable, but she stumbled forward anyway and into the circle of her grandmother’s embrace.

Lilacs. Mary smelled of lilacs. It was a scent Lauren remembered. Somewhere in the vast shadows of her early childhood, she saw the glimmer of memory just out of reach, bobbing closer to the surface.

It was a start.

Chapter Three

Over her grandmother’s shoulder, Lauren caught sight of Caleb’s slow, silent retreat. He held her lemonade glass in one hand as he backed away. Their gazes met. For one instant, the breeze stopped blowing. Her heart stilled and the tightness in her chest faded.

“I told you.” He mouthed the words, lifted a hand in farewell and headed silently out of sight, leaving behind the impression of his kindness. A kindness she appreciated.

Mary released her from the hug, but held tight to her hand, as if she were determined not to let go.

Strange, Lauren had come here feeling vulnerable, but this woman’s arm was so frail, nothing but fragile bones and a silk sleeve. Lauren took a more guiding hold on her to make sure she was all right. “You look like you need to sit down.”

“No, dear. Just taken back. You wouldn’t remember my dear sister. Cancer took her. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her sorely.”

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t imagine what that must be like, to miss someone so much. To love them so much.

Judging by the pain stark on her grandmother’s face and how it seemed to drain her of strength, Lauren decided that she might live a lonely life, but maybe she was lucky, in a way. She would never know her grandmother’s sorrow and loss and heartbreak.

Maybe that was better, to be safe from that kind of pain.

“I’m so glad you’ve come. Now, let me get a good look at you. My, how you’ve grown. A little underfed, but that’s an easy remedy. I can’t get over it. All this time.” Tears silvered Mary’s eyes. “Twenty-two years just flew by and it’s an eternity all the same. It’s been enough for the sweet little toddler you were to grow up. You don’t remember me at all, do you?”

“No, but I wish I did.”

“Well, here I’m going on and on and you must be tired from such a long drive. You must have come up through Utah.”

“I did. It was a gorgeous drive. It’s lovely here, too.”

“I think so, too. It’s home.” Mary slipped her arm through Lauren’s. “I hope you don’t mind I’ve put you out here.”

Sadness seemed to stick with the older woman and her voice was brittle sounding. Lauren didn’t know what to say or how to make it better. She looked up to realize there was an in-ground pool to her left, glittering around an enormous brick patio. Ahead, there was a garden gate that led to a small cottage, hidden behind climbing roses and flowering shrubs.

It was sweet, like something out of a gardener’s dream.

“This used to be my studio, and then a guest house. Your sister Katherine lived here for a long while, until she got her own place in town. Caleb stayed here when he went to college. He lives next door now, and takes care of the place for me when I’m gone. These days I spend most of my time in Arizona.” Mary led the way along the cozy porch to the front door. “Speaking of Caleb, where did he get off to?”

“To see to the horses, I think.”

“He’s a fine man. I don’t know what I would do without him. I’ve known him since he was a wee thing. He’s a man a woman can count on.”

How could she tell her grandmother that she hadn’t thought that a man like that existed on this entire planet? Mary obviously held Caleb in high regard and for good reason. The image of him in his cowboy hat, calming the horses seemed implanted in Lauren’s brain. There was goodness in him and a lot of dependability. Even she could see that. But a lot of men were that way—except when it really counted.

“I thought you might be more comfortable out here,” Mary was saying as they ambled along the flagstone path to the little cottage. “You’ll have your privacy. I know this is going to be a lot for you to adjust to, meeting your family. There are a lot of us.”

“It’s already overwhelming. But nice.”

Mary’s beaming smile was reward enough. Lauren was deeply glad that she’d come. No matter what. A flicker of joy filled her right up. She, who’d always felt so alone, had a grandmother—a real one, a caring one. It was hard not to care right back. And didn’t that mean she was completely out of her element?

Yes.

The little house had a fan-shaped window in the rounded top of the door. It was like a storybook cottage.

Another clue that she was out of her comfort zone. Inside, the cottage was as sweet as promised from the outside, with sheer white curtains swinging in the breeze from the open windows, gleaming honey-wood floors and a cabbage rose covered couch. There was a matching chair and ottoman, which looked good for reading, and scarred end tables topped with colorful pottery lamps. Lauren spotted a tiny kitchen in the corner, with an avocado-green stove and refrigerator. The place was so homey, she was afraid to believe it was real.

Just like with Mary.

“You go ahead and freshen up, dear. I know it was a long, hot and dusty drive. I had Caleb stock the little kitchen with a few necessities, so poke around if you like. When you’re ready, come up to the main house. I should have supper on the table in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

During the whole trip Lauren had wondered what she would say to her grandmother. She’d made a mental list of the questions to ask and of the things she needed to know. Now those questions flitted away like dry leaves in the wind, rolling out of sight.

She felt lost. Nothing was as she expected it to be.

Mary reached out and squeezed her hand. The contact wasn’t something she was used to, but for that one microsecond, the vast canyon she always kept between her and everyone else was bridged. She was no longer painfully alone.

Then Mary let go and stepped away. The canyon around her returned and she didn’t know what to say next. She wrapped her arms around her middle, but that was no comfort from the loneliness.

She was trailing her grandmother to the open door, to close it after her, when she spotted a framed picture hung on the wall. It was one among many with unfamiliar smiling faces, but this photograph called to her.

“Oh, that’s you right there.” Mary brushed a manicured fingertip toward the family portrait. “Do you remember?”

“Not really.” She stared at herself, the little girl in the photograph, chubby with the look of a tot who was more infant than toddler, dressed in a poufy white-and-blue sailor dress and bonnet. She sat on her mother’s lap. She recognized her mom, of course. Perhaps that was what had made her stop in the first place.

She studied the face of the tall, capable-looking man standing behind Mom. She didn’t recognize her father’s face, which was more lean than round, with a hawk-like nose and square jaw. He had a friendly look to him.

Her dad. The dad who’d never wanted to see her. She swallowed hard against the pain. Maybe what her mother had told her about her father was not true, either. Why didn’t she remember him? Or her brother and sisters? Her brother was a tall, teenage boy who closely resembled their father. There were three other girls—a slim preteen, who had wide eyes and a pretty smile even with braces, and two grade school girls who were shockingly identical.

Twins? Lauren didn’t even know there were twins in the family. Her family. People she was connected to by blood, but nothing else. They were simply strangers.

Strangers.

She studied the smiling family. The clothes were dated, fashionable twenty years ago and of modest department-store quality. The kids had the same blond hair and violet-blue eyes that she had.

An eerie feeling of recognition crawled through her, but it was nothing she could grasp. No tangible memory came to the surface through the void.

“That’s your father, of course. He’s remarried. Spence runs the family bookstore these days, along with Katherine. You won’t be meeting her on this visit, since she’s off on her honeymoon. The twins are Aubrey and Ava. Of course, they’re all grown up now. Don’t think, because you didn’t grow up here, that you were out of my thoughts or my heart, because that wouldn’t be true. You’re my granddaughter, regardless of what your mother did.”

How could that be said so simply, as if Linda hadn’t done everything she could to upset and bribe and wheedle money out of Mary? Lauren swallowed hard against the memories that settled like a boulder in her throat. She may have been very young, but she remembered many of mom’s phone calls and how she’d behaved. It all made sense now. Is that the kind of person she seemed like to Mary, someone like her mother?

She looked again at her mother’s face, young and unlined, sun browned, even back then, to a shocking shade. The striking woman in the pretty blue dress that matched the light shade of her eyes and her hair in a sleek bob resembled her mom. But Lauren didn’t know this woman. The mother she knew never would have been anything like the calm, cheerful-looking woman in the photograph.

Lauren felt even more alone, a stranger to herself.

Her grandmother broke the silence. “I’m terribly glad you’re home now. I’d best go put the potatoes on. You must be hungry.”

Lauren’s heart stood still. She saw the older woman to the door and waited a moment to close it so she could memorize her grandmother’s figure—her natural poise, straight spine, her slenderness and elegance. Mary walked through the little picket gate, where an arbor thick with red roses arched overhead, and then disappeared from view.

This was not what she’d been expecting. Boy, talk about being out of her comfort zone. Lauren closed the door and leaned against it. She was just tired, that’s why she felt so fragile. She blinked back the rising tears in her eyes. She’d come to find the truth. She had a feeling the truth was something she wasn’t going to like.

Still, it was hard not to adore her grandmother. She seemed like the nicest person. She’d come thinking, at best, she would meet this lady. And now she had to wonder if there was a chance finally to have a real family tie. Or was this welcome simply to satisfy curiosity? A meeting and then that was all. Her grandmother would see her granddaughter all grown up, and she would have answers.

Tucking away her hopes, Lauren went in search of her bags, which she found on a little cedar chest at the foot of the quilt-covered bed. The bedroom was sweet with tiny rosebud wallpaper softening the walls. White ruffled curtains framing a large bay window seat rippled in the wind.

The view was stunning. Jagging mountains dominated the horizon, and the sky was the bluest she’d ever seen. Deep greens of trees and the neat rows of a garden gave way to white fencing beyond. And, she realized, as she eased onto the window seat’s plump cushion, to Caleb.

Tucked in the shade of the stable, he was brushing the white horse. He hadn’t noticed her and she didn’t seem able to look away. There was something about him that felt as calming to her as the gentle breeze through the open window. It wasn’t every day a girl got to round up runaway horses with a handsome—and kind—cowboy. It was a new experience for her. She couldn’t help wondering about her brother and sisters in the family photograph. This was probably the way they’d grown up, with visits here and adventures on those horses and family meals made with vegetables grown in the garden.

Her grandmother’s words replayed in her mind. Don’t think because you didn’t grow up here, that you were out of my thoughts or my heart, because that wouldn’t be true.

Those words had meant a lot. For the first time in her life, the haze of unhappiness from her childhood felt far away and she could see clearly. The meeting with her grandmother had gone well—her initial worries were over. Now, there was the rest of the family to meet—tomorrow. For now, she was grateful to have the time to get to know Mary.

She checked the time on the way out the door. She wanted to make sure she helped her grandmother in the kitchen. Rose-scented air greeted her as she skipped down the steps. Caleb’s baritone carried on the hot wind. He was calling her name. Still brushing the white horse’s sleek coat, he flashed his dimpled grin. He raised a hand, gesturing her over.

He was a kind man and hard not to like. So she headed his way through the fragrant flower garden ripe with full blooms of colorful roses then along the edge of the vegetable garden.

He came up to the fence, his Stetson shading his granite features. “Things look like they’re goin’ pretty well.”

“Better than I’d let myself hope.”

“You must have awful low hopes as a general rule. You said you talked to Mary on the phone. You had to suspect she’d be as nice in person.”

“Yes, but you just never know how things are going to turn out.”