“Oh. I didn’t realize.”
“I know, because you didn’t bother to ask anything of us yesterday. If you had, I would have told you that I left my job.”
“That’s not fair,” Madeline said. “I’d just flown in from Orlando. It’s all been a little overwhelming, to be honest.”
“Yes. For all of us,” Libby agreed. “But at least we tried to get to know you. You just weren’t very receptive.”
When Libby put it like that, it sounded so rude. “I didn’t—I wasn’t…” Madeline stopped. Any excuse she offered would be seen as that—an excuse. Madeline felt tired all of a sudden, and slumped on the barstool, her chin propped on her fist. “You quit your job yesterday?”
“Umm…” Libby seemed to hesitate. “No, I left it a few weeks ago. When Jackson told me I had inherited Homecoming Ranch, I decided this would be my job.” She stopped mopping and brushed a stray ringlet from her brow.
“What job did you leave?” Madeline asked.
“I was a clerk in the sheriff’s office. I went to work there right out of high school. A very long time ago,” she said, and stabbed the mop into the bucket again.
To quit a job without another one lined up, for something entirely uncertain, was so far out of Madeline’s world she could not even grasp it.
“My dad left me a ranch,” Libby said. “And I intend to make something of it.” She started to mop again. “If you don’t want to do that, I totally understand. But I do.”
“So that’s it?” Madeline demanded. “You stay, Emma takes off without a word, and I do what, pretend I never heard of Homecoming Ranch?”
“If that’s what you want. Look, Madeline, it seems pretty simple to me,” Libby said, and paused, stacking her hands on top of the handle. “We are committed to the Johnson family reunion. You can stay and help with that, or you can go home. It’s totally up to you. I really do understand where you’re coming from, so go back to Orlando if that’s what you need to do. No one is going to think any less of you.”
So why then did Libby sound a little accusatory? “I’m not trying to ditch you, Libby,” Madeline insisted.
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that…” She paused and looked at the window. “I have a different perspective. I’ve had a different life than you. This place,” she said, looking around at the fading wallpaper and the decades of grime, “means something to me. It feels like a place where I could make a difference.”
“By hosting reunions?” Madeline asked skeptically.
Libby’s face darkened. “By doing something for me. I don’t expect you to understand. But I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet.”
Okay. All right. Libby was not budging. Madeline watched Libby resume her work and debated what she should do. She could go, as every fiber in her body was screaming at her to do. Just go now, leave this absurdity. But if she left, that would leave Libby to deal with everything. That would mean Libby would scrub floors without anyone but Jackson Crane to help her.
Madeline stared at the wall, breathing deeply to quiet her heart, trying to decide what it was she should do.
“Hand me the paper towels?” Libby asked.
Madeline sighed. She searched the bags until she found them and handed them to Libby. “Okay,” she said, and shrugged out of her jacket. She unbuttoned the sleeves of her shirt, and rolled them up. “I give in. What can I do?”
Libby eyed Madeline skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“Come on, before I change my mind,” Madeline said impatiently.
“You’re not exactly dressed for it,” Libby pointed out. “Can you put on some jeans first?”
“I don’t have jeans.”
“You don’t have jeans?”
“I have jeans. I don’t have them here. I only flew in to—” Madeline stopped. “I don’t have jeans,” she said flatly.
“Well…” Libby glanced around, clearly flummoxed by the lack of jeans for Madeline. “You could dust the blinds and the baseboards if you don’t mind a little dust.”
“I don’t mind.”
Libby put her mop aside to dig into one of the Walmart sacks. She withdrew a stack of towels held together by a paper sleeve. She pulled one towel out and tossed it at Madeline. “There’s some furniture polish in the garage. I can get it if you are worried about the dogs—”
“I’m not worried about the dogs,” Madeline said pertly. “I’ll get it.” She walked out of the kitchen, very worried about the dogs.
THIRTEEN