Page 18 of The Write Stuff

“Listen,” I started.

“Anyway,” she said at the same time.

Laughter bubbled up because she somehow looked even more disgruntled, which shouldn’t have been possible. I held up my hands in supplication. “I’m sorry about what I said at dinner.” I meant it, and I wanted to get the apology out of the way. “I didn’t mean to say it. I was just surprised to see you, and after all these years, my mind was kind of conflicted.”

She appeared surprised by my honesty. “I get it,” she said after a beat. “You’re the last person I expected to see, too.”

“It’s just … it’s been so long.”

“Yeah.” She rolled her neck. “I guess I managed to convince myself that we would never cross paths when I went to my first few conventions, and you weren’t there. I purposely made it a point not to look for you because that felt as if I was begging for trouble.”

“Yeah.” I felt a little pang in the vicinity of my heart when I thought about her worrying about a run-in. “It’s probably best we got it out of the way, and in front of a small group of people. It would have been even worse if we’d been near the readers when it happened.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes darted toward the river. It was dark, so it was almost impossible to make out the water. Still, apparently, for her, that was better than looking at me. “How is your mother?” she asked in a low voice.

I’d been expecting the question. It was still jarring. “She’s on husband number six now.”

When she turned back, her lips had curved a little. “Yeah? I thought she would be on husband number eight by now.”

“I don’t know. This one has been around three whole years. He might stick.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows moved toward her hairline.

“No, she’s already making plans to divorce him, although she hasn’t admitted that to me or anything. Her attorneys love her because she pays big money for ironclad prenups every few years.”

“Has she considered dating instead of getting married?” Wylie asked. “I mean, in this day and age, it’s okay if she just wants to shack up.”

“I’ll ask her next time I talk to her.”

The conversation disappeared, and awkward silence descended over us. I couldn’t stand it. “How is your mother?” I asked, only because I didn’t know what else to say.

“She’s good,” Wylie replied. This time her smile was wan. “I talk to her once a week on video calls. Lucy and I take turns.”

“Your sister.” I’d almost forgotten about Wylie’s little sister. Lucy was six when our mothers fell out. I rarely saw her. She always had a nanny at the conventions and was never on the convention center floor. “How is she?”

“Scatterbrained,” Wylie replied, holding out her hands in a “what are you going to do” motion. “I mean, I love her — I always have — but she can’t hold down a job and jumps from passion to passion like a bee looking for pollen. I think she’s in Wyoming now.”

“Wyoming?” That seemed like an odd destination, although I wasn’t surprised that Lucy was scatterbrained. Frankly, I’d figured that was the way Wylie was going when I’d last seen her. Lucy taking up the mantle was unsurprising. “What is she doing in Wyoming?”

“Looking for a cowgirl.”

Her response was simple and delivered with baffled affection. I was still confused, though.

“What?”

She laughed at my confusion. “She’s a lesbian. She’s been looking for the woman of her dreams since she was 16. About three months ago, she decided it had to be a cowgirl — like Teeter on Yellowstone — so she went west.”

“But … why Wyoming? I can’t imagine there’s a huge contingent of lesbian cowgirls in Wyoming. At least Texas has the sort of pockets she’d be looking for.”

“Believe it or not, I did bring that up to her.” Wylie’s smile was rueful, and it made her even prettier, which was mind-boggling because she was already gorgeous. “I think she’s looking for something that even she can’t identify, and she won’t know what it is until she finds it.”

“Don’t you worry about her?”

Wylie shrugged. “She’s pretty capable. She keeps in touch. She has to live her own life.”

I nodded. The next question was the one I was dreading asking. I’d considered not asking it, but I was too curious not to. “And Mick? How is he?”

Wylie blinked, then blinked again. She hadn’t believed I would go there, I realized. She was readjusting her expectations. “He’s good,” she replied finally. “He and Mom seem happy.”