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brothers, which was important in a family that valued cunning over something as unreliable as physical beauty, which Burke had in spades. But whenever the accolades were handed out, they went to Frank first, then leftovers were nudged in Burke’s direction.
    I’d often wondered if he noticed that, but I hadn’t wanted to ask him, for fear that he hadn’t and my pointing it out would create paranoia about something previously unconsidered.
    “I’m glad he’s doing well,” I said sincerely, setting my book of measurements down with the picture of the dress she wanted. “And I’m very happy for you, Dottie. It’s wonderful to see you so happy.” Impulsively, I moved toward her and gave her a hug.
    Morrisons aren’t huggers—actually, Bartons aren’t really either—but she patted my shoulder awkwardly, just as she had my arm earlier. The same way she would have any of the fine-bloodlined horses they’d once raised. “Quinn, I appreciate your congratulations. I wish things could have worked out back then, but…” Her voice trailed off, leaving the echo of her implication: You had to go and ruin it. But I forgive you.
    “But they did work out,” I said, more brightly than I felt. “Everyone’s doing great. Every one of us is doing great.”
    She made a noise of disagreement, but I didn’t know what it meant.
    “Well, the boys are coming over for supper on Saturday night to talk about the details of the move and the sale. I wish you’d come join us. You’re always so lively and fun and I have a feeling, with Burke there being surly about it all, it’s not going to be that much fun.”
    Oh, I had a big picture of how that would go. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t going to be improving Burke’s mood anytime soon. Nor he, mine. We hadn’t talked since I’d tossed, “ And the horse you rode in on! ” over my shoulder at the church that day, after the guests had left and he’d offered qualified denials and made admissions I think I’d still, to that moment, hoped he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
    No, I didn’t want to see Burke Morrison.
    Ever again.
    And I couldn’t really imagine facing Frank either. It seemed like 90 percent of my moments with Frank had involved profound humiliation on my part.
    “I’m tied up Saturday,” I lied. “But thanks. Plus, as you know, I have a very important project to work on now, so I need as few distractions as possible.”
    “You really think you’re going to have enough time? Those little bitty roses look like they’re going to take forever to glue on there!”
    I shook my head and followed her to the door. “A couple of stiches each, it’ll be fine.” Though she was right, it was going to be time-consuming.
    But with what was apparently going to be a sustained amount of time with the boys in town, I was thinking my being otherwise occupied was going to be a very good thing.
    “Oh! One more thing!” She stopped and opened her purse and pulled a small piece of blue ribbon out of it. “Can you sew this inside somewhere? Maybe the hem or something?”
    I took it. It was soft, well-worn satin. Like the kind of thing you’d find in tatters on a well-loved baby blanket. “Sure. Like maybe in the hem?”
    “That sounds grand.”
    “What is it?”
    She hesitated and sighed. “That little blue ribbon was on the front of my dress when I married Joss,” she said.
    “Oooh.” Involuntarily, I put my hand to my heart.
    “I know that’s probably inappropriate, that’s why I want it hidden, but”—her voice grew quieter—“we had forty happy years together. If Lyle and I can have a few years half as happy, I will be over the moon.”
    “Wow,” I said. “I think that’s really nice.”
    “You think we Morrisons aren’t very romantic, and you’re probably right for the most part. We’re bullheaded, selfish, and too prideful for anyone’s good. But inside, we do have hearts. Sometimes tender ones, at that.”
    With that, she winked and went out the