That announcement had caught Libby completely off guard and sent her into a flaming tailspin. It was one thing to lose Ryan. It was an entirely different matter to lose Max and Alice. But it was another stratosphere of anger altogether when she realized that when Ryan had suddenly ended things, it was because he’d been cheating on her, and Libby hadn’t figured that out.
She’d been overcome with a rage so intense that she really could not stop herself. Libby couldn’t even describe that moment to Dr. Huber. She remembered feeling like the world around her had fallen away. She didn’t know she was shaking until she tried to stop her purse from sliding off her shoulder and couldn’t grab it. She remembered picking up the club from the bed of Ryan’s truck, and how Ryan was almost frozen with shock. She remembered the squishy feel of the club’s grip, and how she had been pleased she could get such a good grip on it.
Libby could remember taking the first whack and realizing she needed more muscle. She took another whack and the glass shattered, and she had felt adrenaline-fueled elation. Pure elation, like she’d just jumped from the top of a building and landed on her feet.
She could not remember how she kept Ryan at bay. She just remembered that when Sam took the club from her hand, Ryan had been standing there, his whole body quivering with fury. Libby hadn’t cared, obviously, and soon after that, she’d been on her way to Mountain View. Days later, with some medicine to calm her down and some sleep to rest her mind, Libby understood that Ryan had a right to be angry, but the resulting restraining order was a huge blow—Ryan knew how much Alice and Max meant to her, and how much she meant to them. He knew the kids called Libby, still wanted to tell her about dance, about soccer, about the movie they watched that morning. They wanted just to talk to her, to the woman who had cared for them for the last four years.
“Libby, what did he want?” Madeline asked again, shaking Libby back to the present.
She blinked. “Not much. He was just checking on things. Gary and Austin’s ceremony.” Libby didn’t even wince at that lie, which, on some level, was alarming to her. But the guilt would have to get in line behind a mess of other feelings that had been swirling around her since running into Gwen today.
Madeline frowned into her grocery bag. “What about it?” she asked, and put a jar of spaghetti sauce on the counter.
“He’d heard about it in town.” God, shut up, Libby. She was not going to tell Madeline the true reason for his call. How could she? Madeline would flip out—restraining orders in general flipped her out. Madeline liked order and everything in its place, and everyone obeying the rules, and she did not like it when Libby did not obey the rules.
Libby could feel Madeline’s eyes on her. She took some chicken breasts out of the fridge, some tomatoes and peppers. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I’ll make a big batch.”
“Aah . . . well, Luke and I are going into town for dinner tonight. Want to come with us?”
The only thing worse than having Sam Winters remind Libby she was violating a restraining order was being the third wheel on a date with the lovebirds. “Thanks, but I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Libby said. “Did you get the glass bowls?”
“They’re in my trunk,” Madeline said. “I’ll get them.” She started out of the kitchen, but she hesitated, brushed her bangs from her eyes and said, “Libby? You know you can talk to me if something is wrong, right?”
Madeline probably believed that. But there was so much wrong in Libby’s life right now and Madeline Pruett felt like the last person Libby could talk to about it. If Libby told her half of what she was thinking, she guessed Madeline would hyperventilate herself right into a coma. “Thanks, Madeline,” she said. “But nothing is wrong. I’m just . . . I am worried about the ranch, that’s all.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder that hopefully was reassuring.
“Yeah,” Madeline said, nodding as if she was worried, too. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”
Libby did not like it when Madeline had been thinking. Usually it meant she was thinking about why things wouldn’t work, as opposed to how to make them work. “I think we should get a loan,” Libby blurted before Madeline could suggest something she did not want to hear.
“Huh?” Madeline said, startled.
The thought sort of startled Libby, too. “A loan. You know, to spruce things up and tide us over until we can get some events booked.”
Madeline was already shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You have to have a way to pay them back—”
“We could get a business loan,” Libby said quickly. She knew that’s what Leslie Brown had done when she opened up her salon in town. If Leslie could do it, so could they.
But Madeline looked shocked by the suggestion.
“I’m just saying we should at least talk to the bank, Madeline. We can’t make any gains without a little risk. Or without fixing the place up. Or without marketing ourselves, right?”