Y THE TIME WE STOPPED for the night after yes, visiting the world’s largest penguin statue, I was a little fried—from sitting in the wind and sun all afternoon, and from the memories of our brief, doomed marriage. Nick, too, was quiet, though polite.

The town we stopped in was microscopic, only one intersection (no stoplight), a town hall, a church, a hamburger stand called Charlie’s Burger Box and adjacent motel with four units, all unoccupied. Nick paid for both our rooms.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“No problem,” he answered.

“Make sure you check out the dinosaur footprints,” the clerk told us, giving me a wink. “Real big. And mind the forecast. Might get some snow later tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Nick and I said in unison. We glanced at each other, then looked away.

“Where are you folks from?” the clerk asked.

“New York,” Nick said as I said, “Massachusetts.”

“Oh, yeah? I went to Harvard.”

“I went to Tufts Law,” I answered, and we had a lovely chat about the wonders of Boston, while Nick stood silently, only contributing an eye-roll as the clerk and I anticipated a Red Sox sweep of the Yankees during an upcoming series. As Charlie’s Burger Box was the only restaurant in town, we ate there, the Harvard-educated clerk amiably doubling as the cook as he told us about working as an investment banker amassing and losing millions, then coming back home to Montana. “Never been happier,” he said. “You folks enjoy.” He passed us our tray of burgers and fries, then went back to the motel.

Nick and I ate at the picnic table at the edge of the small parking lot. Coco sat next to me, statuelike, waiting, waiting for a bite of burger, inhaling it with a snap of her cute little mouth. Occasionally, a pickup truck rattled down the road, but otherwise, we didn’t see many people.

“So is this what you pictured for your drive across country?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a paper napkin.

“Pretty much,” Nick said, not looking at me.

“Really?”

“Except for bringing you to the airport, yes. Small towns, farmland, the heart’s blood of our great nation and all that.”

“Said the boy from Brooklyn,” I added. “Who, as I recall, couldn’t get along with a simple sheep.”

It was true…one of the times Nick had visited me the summer I worked in Connecticut, we’d gone to a petting farm in the country. A sheep, assuming that Nick had some of those snack pellets in his pocket, kept ramming her nose into his groin, which made me laugh so hard I actually fell down.

I smiled at the memory and glanced at Nick. He wasn’t smiling back. Eyes somber, mouth grim. As if it required physical effort, he dragged his eyes off me and resumed staring at the endlessly flat landscape in front of us. “If we leave by eight, we should be able to make it to the airport by early afternoon,” he said.

We’d make it a lot sooner if he’d managed to hit the speed limit, but I kept those words to myself. “Great. Thanks.”

He nodded. Conversation over, apparently. Which was fine.

Since Nick wasn’t talking, I took out my phone and texted a few messages…one to Carol with a cc to Theo, saying I’d been delayed and would call them tomorrow. I had both their home numbers, but it didn’t feel right, calling on a Sunday evening. They both had families, had a hard-and-fast rule about not working on weekends (unlike myself)…they were normal, in other words. I sent another message to BeverLee and Dad, letting them know the same. Another to Dennis, just in case he worried. I felt a pang at the thought of him back on the Vineyard without me. Our relationship had been…well, comfortable. The thrum, the connection, the depth of emotion I’d had with Nick hadn’t been there with Dennis, and I’d always thought that was a good thing. More mature, more lasting, more stable. Guess it showed what I knew. Dennis hadn’t wanted to marry me, end of story. I wondered if he was feeling at least a little blue, too. I rather hoped so; what would it say if he wasn’t missing me at all?

Though it was home, Martha’s Vineyard seemed like a memory. Strange, to be so far away, in a landscape that was nothing like the familiar hills and rock walls of the island, the gray-shingled homes and scrubby pines. Here, the land stretched uninterrupted to the horizon, and the sky was a little merciless in its vastness.

“All right. I’m heading down the street,” Nick said.

I glanced down the road. “Stan’s Bar. Sounds perfect. Grab a beer, watch some baseball, soak up a little Montana color, is that it?”

“Exactly.” He paused. “You can come if you want.”

I took a quick breath. “Um…nah. I have to do some work, actually. I’ll just take Coco for a walk and hit the old laptop.”

“Okay. Sleep well.”

He got up to go. “Nick?”

“Yeah?” He looked a little careworn, a little creased. He looked his age…not the boy I married. My heart squeezed, and I tried to ignore it. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

He shrugged. “I have to. We’re related now.”

“Oh, God. Is that true?”

His lightning smile flashed. “Well, you’re my half brother’s stepsister-in-law. So yes. I’ll expect presents at Christmastime.”

“Got it. One blow-up doll, superdeluxe model.”

He laughed, gave my shoulder a squeeze, causing that electrical hum to surge to a thousand volts. “Good night, Harper.”

“Night,” I said faintly.

I cleared my throat, tossed my trash into the nearby can and took Coco’s leash. She had a tennis ball, too, which I retrieved from the car—what Jack Russell didn’t love chasing stuff? We walked down the street a little…there was no downtown, no green or park, something I took for granted in New England. But there were fields, endless fields, so we went a few yards in.

“Want to fetch?” I asked, and my dog froze with breathless anticipation, her eyes bright and hopeful. I unclipped her leash, then fired the ball as far as I could, smiling as my little dog streaked across the field. She instantly found the ball and brought it back, tail whipping proudly, and dropped it at my feet so I could throw it again, preferably a thousand or so more times.

It was good therapy, standing in the fresh, cool air, the sky purpling with the onset of night. Sitting in the car for so long had taken a toll, and I was stiff and a little sore.

What would it be like to live in a place like this? According to the map, there were two hundred and fifteen people who lived in Sleeping Elk. What did people do for work? For fun? How did they meet people? Where did they go on a date, other than Charlie’s Burger Box or Stan’s Bar?

Maybe this was the type of place my mother had stayed on her long trek throughout the country. Maybe she’d stayed in this very town. Found a job, worked for a while, moved on. I knew very little about what she’d done the past twenty years, but thanks to Dirk Kilpatrick, P.I., I did know she’d been a wanderer. And I knew where she was now.

The wind gusted, and black clouds rumbled in the west. Time to go inside, give Kim a call, make light of my situation with my ex-husband, write up a brief and try not to think too much about the people I’d lost.

THE NEXT MORNING, WE learned that “breakfast included” meant a voucher at the gas station next door to the motel, as Charlie’s Burger Box didn’t open until eleven-thirty. Our amiable Crimson man had left us a note wishing us well. Nice.

“Can’t we get some steak and eggs?” I asked as we surveyed the paltry selection of plastic-wrapped Hostess baked goods. “Isn’t this Montana, home of beef? Shouldn’t I be able to get some steak and eggs somewhere? Isn’t this Cheney country? Can’t we get some cholesterol somewhere?”

“Can’t you limit the number of sentences you say before 10 a.m.?” Nick returned. But he went to the counter and asked the toothless store clerk about restaurants.

The clerk, who looked as if he was never without either banjo, chewing tobacco or rifle, pondered this difficult question.

“There used to be Sissy’s,” he said slowly, “but that burned down ‘bout six years ago. Maybe seven. Big fire, man, you shoulda seen it. Me and Herb Wilson, you know Herb? Met him yet? No? Well, me and Herb, we was on the fire department back then, and we nearly set ourselves on fire tryin’ to hose down the gas tanks, know what I’m sayin’?”

“So no restaurants?” I prodded. Clearly Jethro here didn’t get to see real live humans all that often, and I was starving.

“No, ma’am. Used to be Sissy’s but that burned down ‘bout six, seven years back. You know Herb Wilson, ma’am? Me and Herb—”

“Then we’ll just take these,” I said, tossing a six-pack of miniature doughnuts on the counter.

“Fill up on pump number one,” Nick added. “And I’m sorry for my…companion’s rudeness. She’s from Massachusetts.”

“Where’s that at?” Jethro asked.

“It’s in New England, and we’re not companions,” I told the clerk. “I’m his parole officer. Thanks for your time.” I slid a five onto the counter, grabbed Nick’s arm and led him out of shop.

“Now that’s local color,” Nick grinned as he filled up the Mustang’s gas tank. Indeed, his mood was very jolly this morning, a vast improvement on last night’s somber tone. He’d always been…moody. No, that wasn’t quite fair. He’d always been expectant. He could be sweet and funny and more energetic than a fox on amphetamines. But then, for whatever reason, his mood could shut off like a light. Sometimes, too, when we were dating or engaged, he’d stare at me…not in-love dopey staring (well, there was some of that), but other times, he’d just look at me and…wait. Wait for something I never gave, apparently, because eventually, when I’d had enough and say “Nick, do you mind?” he’d look away, clear his expression and act normally.

Communication was never our thing.

But today, he was happy enough. He even petted Coco, who gave him a very disdainful Chihuahua look before turning her head back to me. Nick had never been crazy about animals; one of the (many) arguments we’d had as newlyweds was over whether we could get a dog, which our lease specifically forbade. I was all in favor of breaking the rules; Nick lectured me about how hard it had been to find this place, how expensive housing was here in a “real city”—like so many New Yorkers, he viewed Boston as little more than a poorly laid-out lump populated by obsessive sports fans, which was actually pretty accurate. At any rate, no dog. I’d gotten Coco the day after Theo hired me, and we’d been best friends ever since. As if reading my mind, my little dog licked my hand, then rolled onto her back and allowed me to rub her tummy.

The scenery was much the same as yesterday’s. Flat. The sky was beautiful, towering, creamy cumulus clouds drifting over the vast blue. Every twenty or so miles, we’d see a tree. Sometimes we’d spot a few antelope at the side of the road. It was quite exciting. I looked at the map. Looked at the sky. Looked out the window. Occasionally, an eighteen-wheeler would roar past us, rocking the Mustang, as those drivers, at least, were capable of a little speed.

After three hours of driving years beneath the speed limit, I finally snapped. “So, Nick, do you think we could grab life by the horns and go faster than I can run?”

He gave me a tolerant glance with the full power of his gypsy eyes. “My trip, my car. Or, to quote a classic, ‘I’m telling you straight. It’s my way, or the highway. Anyone wants to walk, do it now.’”

“Hmm, let me guess. Would that be Hamlet or King Lear?”

“Close. Road House.”

“Ah, the classics. But if we’re going to make it to an airport before my death of natural causes at age one hundred and four, you’re going to have to step on that little pedal down there on the floor. Go ahead, try it. See car go fast. Don’t be scared, Nick.”

Flashing me a smile, he put on the turn signal, ignoring my groan of frustration. “Time for a photo op,” he said, hopping out of the car without opening the door. He reached into the backseat and pulled out his impressive-looking camera.

I clipped on Coco’s leash and took her into the field to do her business.

“Surly ex-wife and her dog, somewhere in Montana,” he said, clicking a picture of me.

“Your next Facebook entry?” I suggested. Nick came over and stood close to me, showing me the shot he’d just taken. Me, scowling, Coco pooping. Adorable.

“And here we have yesterday’s pictures…you with the penguin, don’t you look so cute…” I was scowling in that one, too.

Nick smelled good. Edible. This was getting uncomfortable. Apparently Nick felt it, too. “Okay,” he said, turning back to the car. “Whenever you and your dog are ready, we can head off to see the world’s biggest plastic model dinosaur.”

“Maybe we can swing by the Unabomber’s cabin,” I said brightly.

“Great idea.”

“Is this just a plot to spend more time with me, Nick, all these back roads and irritating stops?”

“Oh, definitely. What man alive wouldn’t want more time with you, Harpy?” He raised the camera once more and clicked. Well, that photo would showcase my middle finger.

“At least let me drive, Nick.” I grumbled, scooping up Coco and plodding back to the Mustang.

To my surprise, he opened the driver’s side door and held it for me. “Sure. Be my guest. And here.” He bent, picked something from the ground, then presented me with a little blue flower. “For you. A souvenir.”

I took it suspiciously. “Nightshade?” I guessed. Nick gave a crooked grin. The flower petals were very soft, and when I touched them, a faint vanilla smell drifted up. Hmm. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I tucked the flower in my wallet and got into the car. “Buckle up, Nicky dear,” I said to my companion.

Oh, the thrill of sitting behind the wheel of a genuine, made-in-America muscle car! Unlike Nick, I knew what to do. Securing the hat marked with the sign of the devil (NY, that is), I buckled my seat belt and glanced over to make sure Nick was secure, as well. “Hold on to Coco, okay?” I said, and as soon as he had her, I put the ’Stang to the test. Gravel spun, there was a brief screech of tires, and Coco (or Nick) gave a surprised yip.

“Christ, Harper, slow down!” Nick said, clutching the dashboard.

“You’re such a weenie, Nick,” I said, smiling as the Mustang did what she was built to do.

“Pray, Coco. Dear St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers, please protect Coco and me from this insane Massachusetts driver. Amen.” Coco barked and wagged, then picked up her bunny and shook it. She loved speed. Of course she did! She was my dog.

At that moment, my cell phone rang. “Oh, service! How thrilling!” I said, grabbing it. “Hello?”

“You’re breaking the law,” Nick commented.

“Not in this state, I’m not,” I answered, not that I knew either way. The call was from Dennis. Well! How unexpected! “Hi Dennis!” I said brightly.

“Hey, Harp. How you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just great, Den,” I said, smiling at Nick. It occurred to me that Nick didn’t know Dennis and I were over. Hmm. I decided to keep that little nugget to myself. God knows he would run with that…divorce attorney unable to keep boyfriend. In fact, it might be nice for Nick to be a little jealous. “So, Den, you got home okay?”

“Oh, yeah. But what about you? The airport was closed?”

“Yes. Some computer thing. Software. Whatever. I’m on my way to a bigger city. I should be home sometime tomorrow, maybe even late tonight.”

“Cool. Well, I just…I just wanted to check in.”

Huh. That was nice. “What are you up to right now?” I asked, hoping to prolong the conversation a little. It was reassuring to talk to Dennis. Uncomplicated. Every sentence wasn’t loaded with a quadruple entendre.

“I’m at work,” he said. “Might grab a couple beers with the guys.”

“Really? That sounds great.”

There was a pause. “So you’re okay, Harp?”

Did he mean okay about our breakup? “I’m fine, Den. How about you? You okay?”

“This is the most boring conversation I’ve ever listened to,” Nick observed mildly. Coco was standing on his lap, her tiny paws on his chest, obviously having changed her mind about him. One scratch behind the ears, and my dog was a whore.

“Who was that?” Dennis asked.

“Um…that’s Nick. He’s taking me to the airport.”

“Nick? Really?” Another pause. “Your ex?”

Did I have more than one Nick in my past? “Yes. The very same. He offered to drive me, there were no rental cars, it was kind of a mess.”

Nick turned to me. “Can I say hi?”

I shifted the phone away from my mouth. “Why? Do you have a man crush?”

“Let me talk to him,” he said.

“Den, Nick wants to say hi. I’ll see you back home, okay?”

“Okay. Hey, Harp, take care, okay?”

“You too, Den.”

Not without suspicion, I passed the phone to Nick. He grinned. “Hey, Dennis, my man. How’s tricks? Is that right? No kidding. Nope, actually I didn’t know that.” He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. Well, crotch. If Dennis had just told him about our breakup, I’d be pretty pissed indeed. After all, it was personal, and Dennis shouldn’t be—

“She has her moments,” Nick said with a half grin. He listened for a second. “I know. Really? Huh. No, you don’t have to tell me.” He laughed, and I shook my head, disgusted. “She’s not bad, is she?”

“I hate men,” I muttered.

Nick shifted the phone away from his jaw. “Maybe you’re a lesbian,” he whispered.

“I wish I was.”

Nick laughed at something Dennis said. “Well, she’s mine for now, anyway.” I twitched, and the car swerved a bit. “Oh, yeah. She’s sweet, all right. In her own special way. Yep, that, too. Totally. Okay, good talking to you, dude. You too.” He closed the phone and put it down. “Nice guy you got there,” he said.

“It’s so eighth grade, Nick, talking about me when I’m sitting right here.”

“How do you know we were talking about you?” he asked.

“Oh, please. You were talking about me. You know you were.”

His smile grew. “Coco, is your mommy having a little hissy fit? She is? She has them all the time, doesn’t she? You poor thing.”

“You know what, Nick? You’re an idiot.”

“You know what, Harper? You’re doing ninety-three miles an hour.”

Whoopsy. I took my foot off the gas and slowed down. That was the thing with a car like this. Hard to stay moderate. My face felt hot.

“Coco, tell your mommy that not everything’s about her,” Nick said to my dog, who was now cuddled in his lap, staring up at him with her big brown eyes.

“Okay, Nick. You weren’t talking about me. ‘She’s not so bad. She has her moments. She’s sweet in her own way.’ What were you talking about then, huh?”

Nick smiled, his eyes crinkling. Not fair that men got more attractive as they aged. Not fair at all. “Well, you do have impressive recall, Harpy, but the truth is, we were talking about this car.”

My mouth opened, then shut. “She’s mine for now?” I asked.

“The car.” He glanced at me again. “It belongs to a friend of mine.”

Crotch! Nick did that on purpose, I just knew. I really did hate men. Especially this one.

After fiddling with the radio and finding no signal, Nick opened the glove box and pulled out his iPod, plugged it into the dashboard. He pressed a few buttons, and the husky voice of Isaac Slade, lead singer of The Fray, came over the speakers. “You Found Me.” One of my favorite songs. One of Nick’s too, apparently. The next group was Kings of Leon. I had the same song on my iPod. Not in the exact same order, but damn it, in the same playlist. Then came U2’s latest. Had it. Next was “Vida la Vida” by Coldplay, a song I’d probably listened to a hundred times.

“I think I’ve heard this one a little too much,” Nick said. “Mind if I skip it?”

“Nope. Go ahead,” I answered. Crikey.

So. We had similar taste in music. Not a surprise, I guess. We were both from the Northeast, both roughly the same age. Whatever. Still, it was a little unnerving.

We stopped twice more, me biting my tongue so hard I nearly drew blood and trying not to fidget as Nick voiced his fascination with the exciting dam and spillway in one town, and several huge grain silos near the train tracks. But eventually, we came to a town—a megalopolis, compared to what we’d seen thus far. Four blocks, a stoplight and everything. And, more important, a restaurant. Two, even.

It was very pretty…brick buildings with some nice detail. Clean. Friendly. If I was looking for a place to hide, I’d pick here. Maybe my mother had, too, at some point.

“You hungry?” Nick asked.

“Starving.” The six-pack of doughnuts was a distant memory.

No one else was inside the restaurant, and the bartender welcomed us with an amiable twang, asked us where we were from and didn’t mind the fact that Coco was with us. People were nice out here. In no rush, not like us Yankees, always dashing about from here to there.

Nick and I sat in a booth, each of us ordering a reuben, which was surprisingly excellent. Nick read the local paper, idly stealing my fries as if we were an old married couple, occasionally giving one to Coco. He asked the bartender a question about the area. Lou was a local, answered a few questions about the dams we’d just seen, then said he’d been to New York twice, and the two men chatted amiably about restaurants in the city.

Nick had always been good with people. Much better than I was.

When Lou had to answer the phone, Nick took out his book, a manly tome on the great subway systems of the world.

“We probably want to get going, huh, Nick? To the airport? So you can be rid of me and I can get home?”

He didn’t look up from his book. “We’re only a few hours away, Harper. Try not to stroke out, okay? I want some huckleberry pie. Can’t say I’ve ever even heard of it before.” He glanced up. “Life is all about new experiences, don’t you think? Carpe diem and all that?”

I rolled my eyes. This whole little road trip was getting a little…unsettling. I wanted to be home. All this sky, all this land…it made me feel exposed. Too many memories, too much current buzzing between us. Nick turned back to his book.

A couple came in, greeted the bartender by name and sat at a nearby table. Perfect. I could eavesdrop, one of my favorite pastimes. The man spoke first.

“What does my wittle kitty want?”

Jackpot! A man (and I use the term loosely) speaking baby talk? He reached across the table and tried to take Wittle Kitty’s hands. Kitty ignored.

“Is oo a wittle bit mad?”

Oh. Dear. God. I kicked Nick’s shin to get his attention.

“No kicking,” he said unquietly, not looking up from the book.

“Kitty? Oo wuvs me, wight?”

“Jesus, Alec, can you drop the LOL Kitty talk? I hate those damn things,” she hissed (appropriately, I thought).

“I fawt oo wuved da LOL Kitties!” Alec said, making a pouty lip. “Oo wuvs dose kittehs! Wemember, Pwitty Kitty?”

“God. Lou, can I get a beer, please? A Bud?”

“Um, Lainey, sweetie,” Alec said, using normal diction. “It’s only one o’clock.”

“Lou? A Bud?”

“Coming up,” the bartender answered, frowning.

The LOL Kittys man recovered. “Well, what looks good, honey? Other than you, that is?”

She sighed pointedly. “I’ll have a quesadilla with barbecued chicken.”

Alec smiled. “Same for me, Lou.”

“You got it,” Lou answered, then looked over at Nick and me. “How about you folks? Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re fine,” I said. “The check would be great, though. We still have a long way to go.”

“I’ll have a piece of huckleberry pie,” Nick said. “And some coffee would be great.”

Fine. I’d be patient. It was possible. Taking a slow, deep breath and resisting the urge to kick Nick once more, in a softer part, perhaps, I resumed my eavesdropping. Nothing else to do.

“Should we talk about the wedding, sweetie?” LOL Kitty Man asked.

“Alec, not now!” Lainey snapped. “Okay? Can we just…sit? Please? For crying out loud?”

“Sure, sweetie,” he said instantly.

Doomed. There was no way in hell they’d make it.

Alas, Alec apparently reigned supreme in the Land of the Obtuse. “You know, I think Caroline would be a nice name,” he said.

“For what?” Lainey asked.

“For a baby. A daughter.”

She stared at him, disgust and incredulity painted on her face with a heavy hand. “Whatever.”

“Hi, there” I said, waving to the happy couple.

“Don’t,” Nick muttered, still reading.

“My name’s Harper, and I couldn’t help overhearing.” I stood up and approached. “Mind if I sit for a second?”

“Not at all,” Alec replied. “I’m Alec, and this is my fiancée, Lainey.”

“Hello. Harper James. I’m a divorce attorney.”

“Harper,” Nick called, glancing up from his book. There was a note of warning in his voice.

“I couldn’t help overhearing you two,” I said, ignoring my ex. “Alec, you seem like a nice guy. And Lainey, you seem…well, listen. I’m just wondering how you two are doing.”

“We’re great!” Alec said with tragic sincerity. “Um…why do you care?”

“Call it professional curiosity. See, I hate to be rude, but I feel compelled to point out that if you two are already having trouble, it’s not a great sign.”

“Mind your own beeswax, lady,” Lainey said, baring her teeth at me. She had braces.

“Let me guess, Alec,” I said quickly, ignoring her. “At first, Lainey was so nice, right? But then, once you proposed and gave her an Amex with her name on it—”

Nick materialized at my side. “Okay, we’ll just get going here,” he said, giving me a tug. “Sorry to bother you folks.”

“How’d you know I gave her an Amex?” Alec asked me, frowning.

“Car, too, I’m guessing?” I asked.

“Mind your business, lady,” Lainey snarled.

“Alec, I wonder if you have to work this hard now, when you’re supposedly in love—”

“Shut it, Harper.” Nick’s voice was low.

“—just imagine how—” My words were cut off as Nick clamped his hand over my mouth. He hauled me out of the chair and began steering me to the door, Coco following obediently, her leash trailing.

“Oh, that dog is so cute!” Lainey exclaimed. She looked up at Alec, her steely eyes morphing to calculated softness. “I wish I had a wittle doggy like dis one.”

“Want me to buy you one?” Alec asked.

“Wiwwy? You would? Faw me?” she said. She reached out for Coco, who wisely dodged away. Nick let go of me and picked up my dog’s leash.

“She’s just after your money, Alec,” I said quickly. “Make sure you have a prenup!”

“Sorry,” Nick said to the happy couple. He grabbed my arm again and practically dragged me out the door, then released me. Coco sat down and stared at me as well, as if in a collusion of disappointment. “Did you have to do that?” Nick asked.

“What? Tell the truth? Try to save that guy some misery?”

“It’s not your job to decide, Harper,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s like watching a car head for a telephone pole at sixty miles an hour. I couldn’t just say nothing.”

“Just let them be. They’re strangers, for God’s sake. You don’t know anything about them. Maybe their…thing…works.”

I took Coco’s leash out of his hand. “Right. And you know what else, Nick? The Brooklyn Bridge is for sale.”

“You sell everyone short, Harper. You’re such a cynic.”

Oh, those words…that condescension! “I’m a realist, Nick,” I said. “This is what I do for a living—deal with crappy relationships every single day. He’s crazy about her, and she can barely stand him. But he’s pretty well off, as we can see from this brand-new Chevy pickup, Exhibit A, Your Honor.” I pointed to the shiny black truck in front of us. “She might have a three-carat diamond on her hand, but Mom and Dad couldn’t afford dental care, because she’s only got braces now, Exhibit B. I bet we both know who’s paying. He’s a nice guy, bending over backwards to make her smile, and she can hardly look at him. It’s not fair. They shouldn’t get married. I’d bet you a thousand dollars she’ll cheat on him. I bet she’s cheating on him right now.”

I stopped, a little out of breath. Nick was looking at me oddly. “The window’s open,” he said softly.

Oh…crotch. I turned my head…yes, crotch. Indeed. Lainey looked nervous, her eyes darting between me and her fiancé as she twisted her ring. Because of course, I was right.

Alec was staring at me, his mouth opened slightly, as if I’d just clubbed him with a shovel. Sorry, mister. Slowly, he turned to his fiancée. “Do you love me, Lainey?” he asked.

She hesitated, then fixed a smile on her face and took his hand, her acrylic nails gleaming like claws. “Of caws me wuvs oo! Oo’s mah favewit cowboy!”

He bought it. Of course he did. Well, any man who spoke LOL Kitty clearly had no self-respect, and soon, another of my divorce-attorney brethren would have a new client.

“Take a walk,” Nick said in a low voice. “I’ll meet you at the car in twenty minutes.”

I walked. An unfamiliar sensation sloshed in my stomach, and it took me a minute to name it. Shame. I was right, I knew. Everything I said would come true, I’d bet my liver with a side of kidney. Was it wrong to try to save LOL Kitty Man some heartbreak? Granted, maybe the truth shouldn’t have come from a stranger, but at least he heard it. Maybe late at night, he’d have a revelation. Dump her, find some kindhearted woman who really appreciated him and end up happy.

But probably not. Probably, he’d marry that manipulative little money-grubber and live miserably ever after.

The disappointment on Nick’s face…that hurt. Crap.

Being right wasn’t everything.

Coco trotted neatly along, her strong little legs a blur. She stopped to sniff a streetlight, one of four in the downtown area. Townspeople were out and about on their errands, the men clad in jeans and flannel shirts, green John Deere caps or, in the case of a few, cowboy hats. The women were similarly attired, sturdy and capable. In my linen pants and pink silk shirt, silver bracelets and expensive shoes, I definitely stuck out.

I missed Kim, who liked me, and Dennis, who had never once been disappointed in me, or made me feel as if I was wrong, or misguided. I missed Willa, who always loved me, even when I was telling her what not to do. Then again, she saw potential in everyone.

What would it be to think like that? Trusting the universe, believing in the goodness of people the way Willa did, going with the flow…she made it look so easy. Not that it always paid off, of course. And now she was married. Would we stay as close? Since we hadn’t spent our whole lives together, since we’d missed out on those early formative years, maybe our bond wasn’t as strong as blood sisters.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and hit her number. Much to my surprise, she answered.

“Hey!” I said. “How are you?”

“Hi, Harper,” she answered. “I’m okay. How are you? Chris said that you and Nick went to South Dakota or something? Flight problems?”

“Yeah. We’re almost there. North Dakota, actually. But don’t worry about that. How are you? Where are you?”

“Oh…I’m okay. We’re somewhere in Glacier. Somewhere cold. It’s…fine.”

My ears pricked up. “You sure?”

“Well, yeah. This isn’t quite…you know. It’s a little tough. We’re camping. Actually, we’re just sort of huddling in a tent. Christopher can’t seem to make a fire. Not a warm one, anyway.”

“Well, you’ll be home soon, right? Back in New York?”

She didn’t answer for a minute. “I don’t know. Chris wants to stay.”

Her tone was not promising. “You okay with that?”

“I don’t know. I’m just…adjusting.” She hesitated, then spoke again, her voice decidedly more chipper. “So how’d you end up with Nick?

“I was kind of stuck. Flight problems. I might have had to camp, too.”

“Well, camping sucks, so I’m glad you didn’t have to,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I should go. My battery’s dying.”

“Okay.” I paused. “You have my credit card number, right? If you need anything?”

“Yeah. You’re great. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

Feeling a little melancholy, I went into the small gift shop down the street. “Is it okay if I bring in my dog?” I asked. Coco, sensing she was being judged, wagged her tail and tilted her head adorably, then lifted her front paw.

“Sure thing,” the woman behind the counter said. “Oh, aren’t you a cute puppy!”

I browsed the shop…dream catchers and fossils, Native American souvenirs and silver earrings. Belt buckles that could slice a person in half, they were so big. An array of T-shirts.

“Can I have one of those?” I asked, pointing to a display.

“Sure can,” the clerk answered. I paid, she handed me the bag and off we went, Coco and I, down the street.

Nick was waiting for me, leaning against the car. “I’m sorry I made a scene,” I said, handing him the bag. He took out the gift. It was a T-shirt, emblazoned with the words Montana. There’s nothing here.

A reluctant smile came to his face. “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” I looked at the ground.

“They’re fine,” he said, reading my mind. “I told them you’d just gotten out of a relationship and were a bitter, jealous hag, and I was taking you to an ashram in North Dakota.”

“Does North Dakota have ashrams?” I asked.

“You’re welcome,” he said pointedly.

“Thanks. I guess they can implode on their own.”

“That’s my girl.”

Strange, that those words made me feel as good as they did.