She ignored their looks of surprise and jogged up the steps, bursting into the house. She stood in the entry a moment, her fists curled, her breath coming in furious, angry gulps. She hated Sam, hated him for being so damn afraid of life.
“What is going on?” Madeline called out, appearing at the top of the stairs. “Has something happened?”
“I need to talk to you and Emma,” Libby said, and stalked into the living room, starting a bit when she saw that Emma was already there, lounging on the couch in a long sweater and a pair of thick tights. She looked amused as Libby passed through to the dining room, gathered her papers, and returned to the living room.
Madeline came in behind her. “What the hell has happened?”
“You sound like you think she’s had another nervous breakdown,” Emma said casually.
Madeline sighed and rolled her eyes. “Emma, you don’t know what all has gone on here—”
“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s had another breakdown—”
“Hey. Please,” Libby said, holding up her hands. “I need to talk to you both. I’ve been doing some thinking. And some study and research and talking to people. I think I have a great idea for what to do with Homecoming Ranch.”
Both of her sisters groaned and fell back against the couch, as if they’d had this conversation dozens of times before. Which, perhaps they had. But Libby wasn’t going to stop now. Sam’s rejection was a huge blow. She’d always believed herself to be stable and trustworthy—at least she used to be. But he was right, in the last months, her irrational anger had clouded everything. Everything! She was guilty of the same thing she’d accused Sam of: hiding. Only Libby had hid behind her anger. She had refused to face reality or deal with it until it bubbled out in angry outbursts.
“Do we really have to have this conversation?” Emma sighed, her eyes closed now.
“What’s wrong, Emma?” Madeline said. “One time too many for you? Try a dozen times. Try living out here trying to make sense of this place,” Madeline said.
“Jesus, Madeline, are you going to hold a grudge forever?” Emma asked.
Things were going to change in Libby’s life. This morning’s conversation with Sam had been a turning point. He was always talking about turning the page, and she was doing it. Libby could feel it in her, could feel the sludge turning over to new, clean waters. “Seriously, can you guys snipe at each other later? Listen—did either of you ever see The Bachelor episode where the guy chose one girl, but then spent some time with her, and later, chose the runner-up?”
“What?” said Madeline and Emma in unison.
“Never mind,” Libby said with a wave her hand. “What I am trying to say is that we can’t turn Homecoming Ranch into a destination-event place, agreed? We tried, but we all know they’re laughing at us in Pine River for Austin and Gary’s wedding—”
“What?” Madeline said, sitting up. “Who’s laughing?”
“It doesn’t matter, Madeline. I’ve been doing some investigating, and I’ve put together a business plan for something that is worthy of our time and attention.”
“Do tell,” Emma drawled.
“Tony is doing pretty good out here, right? And now he’s got his friends, Jason and Doug. We have the bunkhouse, and we have three cabins.”
“So?” Emma said.
“So . . . what would you think of making Homecoming Ranch a rehabilitation center for war vets?”
Neither Emma nor Madeline spoke. They stared at her as if they thought she was truly crazy.
“Think about it,” Libby rushed ahead. “There is always work to be done, and these guys really respond to having something to do. I talked to my therapist—”
“You have a therapist?” Emma interjected.
“Yes, I have a therapist,” Libby said impatiently. “I talked to her about the sort of things we could do, from cognitive therapies, to desensitization training, to even equine or dog therapy. She also said there are a lot people around here who would volunteer their time to help.”
Madeline, always practical, shook her head. “But how do we pay for something like that?”
“We solicit funds. We apply to the federal agency for grants that exist for his very thing. But to start? I have a business plan written up. And I am not taking no for an answer from Michelle again.”
Emma slowly sat up. “Who’s Michelle? Whoever she is, I don’t care. This idea sounds much better to me than a bunch of weddings. I like it. I like it a lot.”
Libby looked at Madeline. “What do you think?”
Madeline looked at Emma, then at Libby. “I don’t know,” she said. “For me, it would depend on the funding. If we can’t get funding, there is no point in talking about it, because we are surviving on fumes as it is.”
“We just raised fifteen thousand dollars for Leo Kendrick’s van in one silent auction,” Libby said. “And that was without any real campaign. It was people asking people to donate something we could bid on. Imagine what we’d be able to raise if we had a plan. And you know what? I am going to prove it with the 5k race we are doing at the end of this month.”