“Done deal.” Cassie took two steps and skidded on the dew-slick grass. Her feet shot from under her and she landed on her well-padded butt, the air exploding from her in a loudoomph.
Emma rushed to her aid. “Are you okay?”
Cassie waved her away and pushed to her feet with a groan. “Nothing a clumsy pill wouldn’t fix.” She rubbed her backside and winced at the dampness seeping through her favorite blue vintage sundress.
“Is your mother still telling you to lose weight to cure your clumsiness?”
A strained chortle burst from Cassie. “She blames you. She says you instilled bad eating habits in me.”
Emma pulled a face that would make a Maori warrior proud. “Your mother is a witch. You don’t listen to her, do you? Jack loves my curves. All you need to worry about is staying fit and healthy. You look great.”
“You’re my friend. You have to say that.”
“I wrote to you about Jack. You know how hard I had to work to get his notice. Consider it this way. You wanted to sing, right?”
“Yes.”
“You wanted it so bad, you ignored your parents’ wishes. If you find someone who interests you, fight for him in the same way.”
“And if I fail? Or he rejects me?”
Emma linked arms with her. “I’ll wipe your eyes, ply you with carrot sticks, and you’ll start again. None of us needs a man to be happy, but they can be handy with mice and long grass.”
“And for sex.”
“That too.”
The reason Emma was her best friend. She never treated her like a superstar or expected Cassie to buy her things. She kept up their longstanding correspondence and indulged Cassie’s love of receiving mail by writing regular letters.
“Just an aside, Emma. Chocolate ice cream works much better than carrot sticks. Oh, and a bottle of wine would go down well.”
“Gotcha. Chocolate. Wine. Ready to explore?” Emma winked—an exaggerated blink that boosted Cassie into an I-can-do-this determination.
Cassie sucked in her stomach, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Does Jack deal with rodents too?”
“He might lend you his cat.”
“I’d love a pet, but I’m on the road so much it wouldn’t be fair. That’s part of my man problem. I meet someone promising and have to leave. When I get back to base, I find another smart woman has snapped him up.”
“You put too much pressure on yourself. This is a holiday. Sun. Fresh air. My company.”
“Duly noted. I have the key.” She retrieved the key, still thankfully in her pocket, and fit it into the lock. It turned, and she pushed. Nothing happened. She twisted the key again and shoved. The wooden barrier flew open and, taken by surprise, Cassie toppled through the doorway.
Something big—huge—bounded from the nearby sitting room. Cassie screamed as a second jumped at her with a panickedbaa.
“Cassie? Are you okay? Holy Hannah. Where did those sheep come from?”
On hands and knees, Cassie peeked into the sitting room and saw it was clear of sheep. “The door wasn’t locked.” She groaned as she shoved herself upright.
“Is the back door open?”
“Let’s see.” Cassie picked her way down the passage and stepped over a soldier-straight line of beer cans, her heart breaking at the destruction. Witty curses in lime-green spray-paint adorned the walls. Sheep manure peppered the faded blue carpet. A sheep—well, a lamb, since it was small—leaped through the kitchen doorway and disappeared through an open door. “Mystery solved.” She shut the door.
“Wait, we’d better check all the rooms.”
“Good point.” Cassie turned and stood in poop. “Ugh, my favorite shoes.”
They searched for more sheep but, luckily, they’d departed en masse.
