Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry, but we can’t, Dad.” Tulsi sighed as she lugged one heavy metal stand toward the wheelbarrow. She’d told Clem three times that they weren’t staying at Grandpa’s, but her daughter wasn’t a fan of listening to things she didn’t want to hear. “Clem’s leaving for camp tomorrow. We have to go home and get her packed. But we’ll come stay the week after the wedding. She’s dying to go on a trail ride before school starts.”
“I guess the fresh sheets will keep,” her dad grumbled. “But you two shouldn’t be on your own. I know how scatterbrained you are, Tulsi. Half the time you forget to lock the front door.”
“I do not, Dad.” Tulsi rolled her eyes. “Clem and I are fine at Bubba’s.”
“Just don’t leave the stove on again,” her dad continued, clearly determined to bring up every minor mistake Tulsi had made in the past six years. “And bring me that stereo system you stole when you moved out. With your mom gone on her trip, the house is too damned quiet.”
“I’ll bring the stereo over soon.” Her stereo, the one her mom had given her for her birthday last year, but there was no point arguing about it. “And Clem and I will make lots of noise next week. I promise.”
Her dad sighed. “Well, all right. Hopefully, I’ll still be alive by then…”
Tulsi lifted her eyes to the heavens and prayed for patience. “You’re as healthy as a horse, Daddy. See you soon.” She ended the call before her father could lay the guilt on any thicker.
When she’d been living with her parents, her father had made no secret of the fact that he found it embarrassing to have a grown daughter living at home. But ever since Tulsi and Clem had moved into Bubba’s house, while he was on tour with his band, Dad had been acting like an abandoned puppy.
A cranky puppy, with a tendency to bite.
There was no pleasing the man, something she should have learned a long time ago. Since the day she’d told her parents she was pregnant at eighteen with no potential husband in the picture, as far as Dale Hearst was concerned, Tulsi had been able to do no right. He’d supported her throughout the pregnancy and beyond, but he’d done it all with a disappointed grit to his jaw. Even as he spoiled Clementine rotten—doting on her in a way he never had his own daughters—he treated Tulsi like a prized filly who’d gone lame the night before her first race.
She was grateful her father didn’t punish Clem for what he saw as Tulsi’s failure, but it would have been nice not to be a disappointment in the first place. Having her daughter so young had been hard, but she’d never regretted keeping Clementine. She loved her baby girl with every piece of her heart and she put everything she had into being the best parent she could be. Tulsi couldn’t understand how anyone—especially her own father—could see that as failing.
But Dad had never been the easiest man to get along with, which made Tulsi grateful to have a place of her own, even if it was only until Bubba came back to town.
She finished stacking the last of the metal stands into the wheelbarrow and with a glance at her watch to make sure she was still on schedule, rolled it down the street. She unloaded at the visitor’s center—stacking the stands and ropes in the back room—and delivered the wheelbarrow back to the gardener’s shed. Finally, after one last check-in with the head of the cleanup crew, Tulsi grabbed her purse from the old general store and hustled down the dusty street at a trot, ignoring the pain shooting through her aching feet.
In an effort to be festive, she’d worn her new brown boots with skinny jeans and a sparkly brown tank top. This morning, dressing up had seemed like a good idea, but now she wished she’d stuck with her comfy work boots. After two days of running around the ghost town fetching water for the talent, carrying amps, and being Mia’s right hand woman while her best friend kept all the concert balls in the air, Tulsi felt bruised from the kneecaps down.
She already regretted rescheduling all of her clients for Tuesday in preparation for Mia’s wedding festivities. When she was planning out her week last Friday, taking every day off but one had seemed like a scandalous indulgence. Now, she had a feeling she was going to need more than a day to recover from the excitement of the weekend.
By the time she made it through the ghost town gates and across the now empty parking lot, she was in pain. By the time she had power-walked a mile down the old highway to where the volunteers had parked under a small grove of Chinese Pistache trees, she couldn’t keep the grimace from her face.