“Thanks. Thanks for that.”
“You’re prettier than she is.”
Britt snorted.
“Aspretty. In a different way. Pretty without needing to wax or trim a thing.”
This was about the highest compliment Casey could give a person, and Britt was quite touched.
“You’re pretty, too,” Britt told her.
“I know,” Casey said placidly. “And you know, I get afraid of things, Britt. I do. I get afraid I won’t find anyone to settle down with and have kids before it’s too late. Because that hasn’t quite worked out for me. I get afraid something will happen to my house, like a big tree falling on it. But I went to Greta at the New Age store and she told me how to feng shui the place for protection.”
“Can’t hurt!”
“That’s what I said!” Casey said.
They sipped a moment in silent solidarity.
“Do you remember that fight I had in the street with Kayla? About Truck,” Casey ventured.
“Casey, I think you have to assume that fight has passed into legend. They’ll probably start teaching it in school around here, along with Sutter’s Mill and Fort Sumter.”
She sighed. “Well, I’m not proud of that. My mama tried to raise a lady. And I do know how to behave. But Kayla started it. You know what she said? ‘You’renevergoing to find someone.’ Kayla and I go way back to when we were little girls. Shereallyknows how to hurt me. It’s funny, because I think that’s her biggest worry, too—that she won’t find anybody. And that’s how we ended up fighting. Anyway, if I have any sort of credo it’s this: I always fight back.”
Britt was uncertain about the wisdom of this credo.
“You’re not a believer in passive resistance? Turning the other cheek?” she tried.
“Oh, you mean like Gandhi and all that? The thing is, passively resisting Kayla would have gotten me snatched bald-headed that day. Turning the other cheek would have gotten that one slapped, too. Sometimes you just have to wade on in there and flail a bit and hope for the best,” she said placidly, and tipped the pitcher into Britt’s margarita glass.
Britt took a healthy sip. “This is thebestmargarita I’ve ever had.” The more she drank, the easier it went down, too. Casey wobbled to her feet and pressed the button on the blender to ensure they wouldn’t run out.
She wondered if Casey’s last sentence ought to be her philosophy, too: wade on in there and flail a bit.
“If you’re going to fight, you might as welltryto win, right?” Casey settled into the chair opposite her and clinked her glass against hers. “Even if it isn’t pretty. And if you can’t win, sometimes revenge is sweet.”
“But knowing when you can’t win is part of it all, too, probably. Or whennotfighting is kind of the only way youcanwin.”
Casey was quiet a moment.
“Oh, sweetie,” she said finally, gently.
Which was the first time Britt realized that everyone really did believe she’d lost J. T. forever.
She supposed it was touching that everybody cared.
It was a peculiar emotional position to occupy. To know that when the truth of it settled in for good, that when he was gone and stayed gone, or was underfoot in Hellcat Canyon alongside Rebecca Corday, that the townspeople had her back, like a lot of busybody feather pillows.
“You’re so smart, Britt,” Casey said suddenly. “You’re the bomb, you really are. I always wanted to be your friend, but I didn’t think I was smart enough. I felt shy.”
“You wereshy? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that.Iwas shy. I always admired how bold you are, Casey. You’re so cool.”
They had clearly already reached the affectionate phase of inebriation. They beamed at each other.
Casey linked her fingers into a little hammock and propped her chin on them and gazed at her.
“What is Rebecca Corday like?”
