Tomorrow I'll have to put my foot down, no matter what Grandmother or Mother says. A lady of twenty is quite capable of making her own decisions. Mandie Shaw slapped her straw hat on her head with more gusto than required, until it hung low over her eyes. Strands of blonde hair escaped her low coiffure. Frowning at them through the mirror, she tied the hat string in a blue bow that matched her light walking dress.
She'd have to change to a travel suit and fix the hairstyle before she left the Woodards. Proper decorum was such a bother sometimes, but Mandie didn't dare give Grandmother Taft anything against her.
Grandmother Taft, Mother, and even Uncle John seemed to think they should plan her life for her. Tell her where to live, when to travel, how to occupy her time, as if she was incapable of making any decisions for herself.
Problem was, Mandie didn't know quite what she wanted to do—just that she had to find out for herself. This week visit with the Woodards was supposed to help her figure things out, so when she went back to Franklin, she could silence the family's busy bodying.
Only this was her last day she could hide from the family.
"Aw, shucks." With that parting sentiment to her reflection, Mandie went downstairs, careful to close the door on the still slumbering Snowball. It would be like him to dart out and get lost. She didn't have time to look for him, because Dr. Woodard would be taking her home this afternoon.
Mrs. Woodard sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. "Morning, dear, would you care for a cup?"
"Maybe later, thanks, I'm going for a walk."
Mandie was relieved when Mrs. Woodard only nodded assent. She probably knew Mandie wished to visit her father's grave once more.
Mandie slipped out of the Woodard's house. Even though it was still early morning, the dew on the ground had evaporated. She'd never remembered a summer being this hot. So much seemed to have changed, even the weather.
She recalled other summers here. Happy times when her father was still alive. She and Joe would have gone to the barn and seen Samantha's newest litter.
Mandie hadn't seen Joe since her college graduation in spring, and then only briefly, as he'd hurried back to the law firm in Louisiana. He must have life figured out.
She hadn't changed. She was still Mandie Shaw, daughter of Jim Shaw, a country man. If only he were alive now, maybe then she wouldn't have this restlessness, this yearning for something she couldn't even name.
Tears sprang into her eyes when she crested the hill of the cemetery.
A tall, well-dressed man stood at the top. Mandie slowed her steps and blinked to clear her blurry vision.
The man raked long fingers through his brown hair.
Mandie's heart hammered as she drew closer. She pushed her hat off to let it dangle down her back, so she could see better. "Joe?"