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March 30 - April 1, 2025
If her micro-manager boss back in Fort Worth had bothered to give her a chance at running the whole restaurant, she wouldn’t have had to come back to Yearly, Texas, to try her hand at being responsible for running a business. Head chef didn’t automatically mean in charge of building her own dream team or relationships with suppliers the way she wanted. Though, it didn’t matter. Now she had the means to do something to take care of the family Dad loved more than anything.
So, she’d gone away to attend culinary school with an accompanying degree in business. He’d been her loudest supporter, always demanding the best from her and pushing her to give it her all. Though he never said, she thought he’d been relieved when she hadn’t stayed in Yearly and married Johnny.
Since she’d been back, she managed to embarrass herself around Cash every time she saw him.
“I bought Joe’s old place. So there.” “That’s a good location.” “I thought so. You know I’ve always wanted to run my own restaurant.” Something flashed in his eyes. “That’s why you left.” He moved to the next wall and extended the tape measure. His words stung. She didn’t know if he meant them to, but they did. She raised her chin. “Yeah, it seemed like the quickest way to get what I wanted.” “It must be nice…” “Hmm?” Rebecca tilted her head. It was such a strange thing for him to say. He had a thriving business, a marriage, and probably had already started on kids. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t look like he was thinking about remodeling her house. As if in answer to her wondering, Cash released the tape measure, and it rebounded with a snap.
“Uh, yeah, hi,” he stammered. “My name is Michael. I’m looking for my dad. Cash Williams.” “I’m here, Michael,” Cash said, stepping fully into view. “Rebecca, this is Michael.” Rebecca turned ashen. “He’s your son?” “Yep.” A grin split Michael’s face. “Cash is my dad.” Cash shook his head. It wasn’t the truth, but Michael was adamant that it didn’t have to be on court paper for it to be reality. Almost everybody in Yearly knew that Michael didn’t actually belong to Cash by blood or on paper, but nobody ever bothered the boy or Cash about it. “How old is he?” she squeaked. “Twelve.” Cash shared
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she suspected her frustration was a result of finding about Cash’s marriage, meeting his kid, and then finding primer everywhere without expecting it. Not that she’d spent any mental time on primer vs. stain, and not that she really cared. Cash’s wife was a lucky, lucky woman, and if Rebecca were honest, maybe she was more than a little jealous. She’d been chasing her own restaurant for years and had almost nothing long-term to show for it. How had Cash found time to build a whole family since she left? For the first time, she doubted her choices, and the doubt stung more than a little.
Then he’d had the audacity to walk in—no, saunter in, still wearing the cologne she loved. His wife probably loved it, too. That scent used to mean everything in her world was right. But it wasn’t a smell for her anymore.
Rebecca covered her face with her hands, trying to catch the sobs before they made her face puffy and her eyes red. She’d left Yearly when she was nineteen. Cash had been almost twenty-two. She counted forward. That made Cash almost thirty-four now. Michael was twelve. Twelve. Cash must have married almost as soon as she’d gone, as though he couldn’t wait to be rid of her, as though he’d known she would refuse him and had a replacement picked out. No wonder he hadn’t come after her. He’d moved on as fast as he could.
She used to jump up to meet every unexpected knock at her apartment door, hoping it was him, coming after her. She’d been out on first dates often, even had a serious boyfriend for a while, but Fort Worth men didn’t know how to measure up to Johnny Cash Williams. And he had brought it all back by strolling into her life.
She felt like she was grieving him all over again, but it was foolish to cry over something that happened so long ago. Wasn’t it?
Mary Bagley, Abigail’s mother and Michael’s custodian, had made it clear more than once that he had a standing invitation to eat with her every Thursday night. He was expected.
“Hey, Mom, Dad.” He’d taken to calling them that after Abigail had become his fiancée, and it was a habit that hadn’t ended when Abigail died. Robert and Mary never told him to stop, so he never did.
Abigail had been the youngest in a brood of six and had gotten so many of her best qualities from the older woman. It still surprised him that Abigail had picked him. When she met him, he had been focused on keeping his bitterness alive. He hadn’t been looking for a relationship when he showed up to build a covered porch onto the back of her parents’ house.
Abigail and Michael had been the opposite of Rebecca in nearly every way. Spontaneous. Carefree. Free to love and okay with admitting that they were broken while always reaching for better.
He didn’t want to risk the grief about it. He was sure Abigail had told her mother about his ex. That was the way those things worked, and Rebecca had left him an emotional mess.
“Actually, Cynthia called and asked if we had a spare bed that Rebecca could use. Can you take that over to the Fisher house on Dogwood in the morning? She can use that old bed in the spare room. You know it’s just sitting.” “What?” Cash had to focus on not using a squeaky voice. That bed had been Abigail’s for years. She’d gotten a new one, but it was still strange. Mary frowned. “What is it?” “Nothing.” He didn’t need to explain it. It was odd for Rebecca to sleep in a bed that used to be Abigail’s. It made Rebecca too close. Somehow. It was only a bed. That was how he should think of it.
“Can you stop by Cynthia’s and see if she has anything that needs doing? There’s always something, and I know her husband used to take care of everything.” Cash lifted a hand. Of course she would ask that.
Cash couldn’t figure out how to reconcile her behavior with anything he was looking for in a woman. Michael, Mary, and Robert were there to stay, and it didn’t matter what situation Mary tried to engineer. There was no way Rebecca Martin was going to fit into his life plan.
Yet matchmaking and mothering was in Mary’s blood, and there was only
“Classic. Simple. Elegant. Ben will love it,” Leah said. “Ben?” He straightened abruptly and bumped his head on the vent hood. “Ben Jones?” Leah nodded. “Is there something wrong with Ben?” His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s not my business.” He went back to inspecting the gas connections for the stove.
He met her gaze, his expression intense. “Are you not staying in Yearly?” Rebecca dropped her hand and laughed. “Oh, no, I have a job to go back to in Fort Worth. The Reverie is my ill-advised retirement plan. Leah’s, too. She’s moving back to take care of Mom and manage the place while I keep things afloat with my day job. I make better money than she did as a teacher, so it seemed like the logical choice at the time.” Rebecca crossed to the swinging door and paused.
Cash cleared his throat as he followed. “What are you going to do with the Fisher house?” “The house on Dogwood?” Leah turned toward them and beamed at Cash. “I’m going to rent it from her.” Something in Cash’s face hardened, and Rebecca got the impression that she had just delivered bad news to her contractor. She wasn’t certain what part had put the sour look on his face. He cleared his throat. “I have a spare bed for you. Your mom called Mary Bagley, and she asked me to deliver it. Can I drop it by there?”
“Hmph,” Leah said. “He got wound tighter with old age.” Rebecca wasn’t sure if that was it or something else. Though she’d discovered one thing for sure. Cash Williams certainly wasn’t the Johnny she used to know.
Rebecca wasn’t even staying in Yearly. She was opening a business and then running back to the city, leaving her sister to do all the work.
Oh, no, he wasn’t furious about it. Leah didn’t know her right hand from her left hand until she was a teenager, but that wasn’t his business. No, sirree.
She wasn’t his type anymore. Maybe she’d never been. She left Yearly to pursue her dreams, and the chances were good that she really didn’t like kids. That wouldn’t work at all. He shouldn’t care, and he didn’t want to think about why her leaving Yearly bothered him so much.
Michael didn’t know what Cash did. That was all. Rebecca would never be a woman worth pinning a future on. He wasn’t about to change the best things about his life, and he wasn’t leaving Yearly.
Farmer Bill shifted on his feet and then smiled.
“I’ve outlived two wives. They was as different as night and day, and I loved them both with every fiber of my being. Don’t spend so much time grieving that you can’t see a chance that’s in front of you. Can’t live in Winter forever. You’ll regret it.” He slipped his hands into the deep pockets of his overalls. “Life comes in seasons. Maybe it’s time for you to find a new one.” “You think Rebecca’s an opportunity? Is that it?”
He and Rebecca were just two different kind of fish living in two different kinds of water. Nothing would change it.
Fort Worth men didn’t suit her. She didn’t know if it had anything to do with Cash or not, but they all lived life at a faster speed than she wanted to. When Rebecca met the right man, she wanted to settle down.
Bagley Memorial Park. Abigail’s parents must have been the source of the donation. “They gave the donation?” Ben stared as somebody sent a homer sailing over the fence. “Johnny did it in honor of Abigail. She loved going to softball games.” “Johnny?” Rebecca squeaked. The woman down front gave her a look this time. Ben took a sip from his drink and nodded.
Cash shuddered. Rebecca was on a date. At his park. With Ben. Cash shouldn’t care, but he did. He cared a lot.
Rebecca was with that bum Ben Jones. He couldn’t be sure, but Abigail always said that Ben had a roving eye.
Michael cheeks reddened. “Yeah. Your girlfriend is here, too.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “That Rebecca Martin lady. The one you like to look at when she’s not looking at you.” Cash shifted in his seat, squirming as a rush of warmth spread across his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Looks like Gramma is giving the guy with your girlfriend one of her famous death glares.” At that, Cash spun around to gape at the filled bleachers, searching the faces. “Made ya look,” Michael crooned.
He always did things for the elderly that needed it. For many of those on a fixed income, payment came much later. If it came at all. It was a service that he and Abigail had always loved doing together. It was a way to pay-it-back, to pay-it-forward. It made her happy.
Since meeting Abigail, it had become his habit, and it was one of the ways he paid homage to her memory.
No matter how much Rebecca pulled at him, it didn’t make any sense to get tangled up with a woman that always wanted to leave.
“Maybe that should change. Time for a new season.” “Maybe it should.” She’d read once that old farmers heard a different sort of tune, a whispered truth from somewhere away in the distance. Maybe Farmer Bill was using his Farmer sense.
“I saw him parked at Yearly Cemetery.” Farmer Bill sighed. “He was talking to Abigail. He does that from time to time.” “He loved her.” Saying the words brought a dull ache. She leaned against the car. “Almost as much as he loves you.” Rebecca barked a laugh. “Used to, Bill.” “Not as used to as you might think.” “I doubt that.” “You’d have liked Abigail, and she would have liked you.”
Cash hadn’t ever been able to stand the idea of waiting on her to accomplish her goals when it meant she had to leave Yearly for a little while. In the heat of anger, Rebecca declared she was going anyway, and Johnny—Cash—clammed up and went home. The next morning, Rebecca had found a note on her parents’ front porch, refusing a long-distance relationship and wishing her well. Then Rebecca packed up and left, three days sooner than she intended to, taking comfort in the plan she had. She stuck to it and had turned nothing into something. Fate sometimes seemed cruel, but it was a mercy that she
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Her mother had something on her mind, and Rebecca already had a suspicion about what it was. “That boy still loves you.” “Stop it, Mama.” “Rebecca, you mark my words.” “I’m not his type.” She scooped up the bread and the squash casserole, then slipped past her mother. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’ve never been his type. Just ask him.”
Then he reached for the dish. His hand brushed hers as he took the bread plate from her, sending a wave of sensations through her so strong that she shivered. The physical contact must have shocked him, too, because he pulled his hand back, and the metal bread board slipped through her fingers and clattered against the hardwood floor.
There hadn’t been anything like that electric surge in their younger years. It was a static jolt that made her heart seize.
Cash needed to disappear. Rebecca’s emotions couldn’t take much more of his presence. He didn’t want her, never had, and that wasn’t going to change. A man that couldn’t stand her plans back then was jeopardizing her plans now. She needed to talk to someone, but there wasn’t anyone that would understand that the dimple was going to be the end of her.
“Rebecca has news,” Cynthia repeated. Rebecca looked up from her food, her eyes wide. “What?” “You have news.” Cynthia nodded at her as though trying to get her to take over the conversation.
“Oh.” She drew in on herself. “You don’t want to hear about that.” “Sure, I do,” he said.
“I got a phone call,” she began, “from a businessman that owns several high-end restaurants in the DFW area. He wants me to run the Silver Fox.” No recognition flickered across Cash’s face, so she went on, “It’s a big step up from where I was. The salary is an improvement, and I’ve been looking for an opportunity like it for a while.” “Will you take it?” “I haven’t decided yet, but it has the potential to solve several problems.” “Back in Fort Worth?” Rebecca scowled. “Yes.” “That’s great.” Cash spoke with a wooden voice, his eyes devoid of emotion.
Rebecca started clearing dishes, puzzling over the change in him, working and reworking the events in her head until anger sparked in her stomach. Cash had never wanted Rebecca to chase her dreams. Her mom escorted Cash to the door, and then he was gone. She hadn’t even bothered to tell him goodbye.
