The Prince Charming List. Kathryn Springer

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      “My name is Heather and I’m a hairstylist.”

      “That bad, huh?” Bree met me on the front steps of the Penny farmhouse and waved a cheeseburger under my nose to revive me. We plopped down on the porch swing and I didn’t take a breath until I’d worked my way through half of it.

      “Someone could have warned me about Mrs. Kirkwood,” I finally mumbled.

      “You wouldn’t have believed us.”

      That was true. “She hinted I was after Alex’s money, questioned the amount of experience I’ve had and insisted she’d seen my shirt—the one I bought in Paris—on sale at Kmart last week.”

      Bree chuckled. “Try having her for home economics two years in a row.”

      “She’s a teacher? How’d you end up so normal?”

      “If you call breaking out in cold sweat whenever I see a sewing machine normal.” She raised an eyebrow at me and we both burst out laughing.

      It was amazing how close Bree and I had become. The day I’d met Bernice for the very first time, she’d introduced me to Bree. On our way to the Penny farm for dinner that evening, Bernice had condensed her ten-year history with Bree while I tried to form a picture of the girl who must have received the bulk of my birth mother’s attention. She loved horses. She was dating a boy named Riley Cabott. She was an only child.

      Did you ever wish you knew me that well, I’d wanted to interrupt. But I didn’t. The resentment bubbling up at Bernice’s obvious love for Breanna Penny had surprised me into silence. The only thing that prevented it from flowing out and staining our conversation was when I remembered my Grandma Lowell’s words.

      “This woman you’re meeting has a life, Heather. And so do you. God has given you both a new starting point…a place where your lives are going to intersect again. It’s up to you where you go from there. I would make it an opportunity for grace.”

      That was one of Grandma’s favorite sayings. Make it an opportunity for grace. It wasn’t the first time I’d applied it, although I can’t say it was always easy. When Bree and I came face-to-face, I took a deep breath and searched her eyes—expecting to see them full of anger that I’d dare to show up and turn Bernice Strum’s world upside down. But all I could see in them was warmth. And welcome. That’s how accepting Bree was. She loved Bernice. She’d love me, too. It was as easy as that.

      It’s strange how someone can enter your life and instantly become such a part of it you can’t imagine there was ever a time they weren’t there. Over the past year, Bree and I had kept in touch and she’d been just as excited as I was that we were both coming back to Prichett for the summer.

      Bree rose to her feet and stretched like Snap after a long nap. “Are you ready for your recovery group?”

      “I thought that was the cheeseburger.” There was more?

      “That was only phase one.”

      We tossed our plates in the dishwasher and Bree paused a moment, inspecting me with a critical eye. How could she find fault with my favorite pair of DKNY jeans and yellow high-top tennies?

      She frowned. Apparently she had.

      “You’ll have to wear my boots.” She dug into the hall closet and tossed her red cowboy boots at me. I’d worn them before as a fashion statement but suddenly I was beginning to get suspicious about what Bree Penny considered relaxing.

      “Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

      And it was waiting in the barn.

      I’d ridden before. Once. With Bree. Her horse, Buckshot, was an equine skyscraper, but riding him hadn’t seemed so scary when I was with someone who knew which end of a horse was which.

      “Her СКАЧАТЬ