Second Chance at the Sugar Shack Read Online Free Page A

to Deer Lick, Montana. Population 6,000 .
    For Kate it might as well have read Welcome to Hell .
    L ate the following afternoon, Kate stood amid the mourners gathered at the gravesite for Leticia Jane Silverthorne’s burial. Most were dressed in a variety of appropriate blacks and dark blues. The exception being Ms. Virginia Peat, who’d decided the bright hues of the local Red Hat Society were more appropriate for a deceased woman with a green thumb and a knack for planting mischief wherever she went.
    No doubt her mother had a talent for inserting just the right amount of monkey business into things to keep the town blabbing for days, even weeks, if the gossips were hungry enough. Better for business, she’d say. The buzz would catch on and the biddies of Deer Lick would flock to the Sugar Shack for tea and a sweet treat just to grab another tasty morsel of the brewing scandal.
    Today, the Sugar Shack was closed. Her mother’s cakes and pies remained unbaked. And the lively gossip had turned to sorrowful memories.
    Beneath a withering maple, Kate escaped outside the circle of friends and neighbors who continued to hug and offer condolences to her father and siblings. Their almost overwhelming compassion notched up her guilt meter and served as a reminder of the small-town life she’d left behind. Which was not to say those in Hollywood were cold and unfeeling, she’d just never had any of them bring her hot chicken soup.
    Plans had been made for a potluck gathering at the local Grange—a building that sported Jack Wagoner’s award-winning moose antlers and held all the community events—including wedding receptions and the Oktober Beer and Brat Fest. The cinder block structure had never been much to look at but obviously it remained the epicenter of the important events in beautiful downtown Deer Lick.
    A variety of funeral casseroles and home-baked treats would be lined up on the same long tables used for arm wrestling competitions and the floral arranging contest held during the county fair. As far as Kate could see, not much had changed since she’d left. And she could pretty much guarantee that before the end of the night, some elder of the community would break out the bottle of huckleberry wine and make a toast to the finest pastry chef this side of the Rockies.
    Then the stories would start to fly and her mother’s name would be mentioned over and over along with the down and dirty details of some of her more outrageous escapades. Tears and laughter would mingle. Hankies would come out of back pockets to dab weeping eyes.
    The truth hit Kate in the chest, tore at her lungs. The good people of Deer Lick had stood by her mother all these years while Kate had stood off in the distance.
    She brushed a speck of graveside dust from the pencil skirt she’d picked up in Calvin Klein’s warehouse last month. A breeze had cooled the late afternoon air and the thin material she wore could not compete. She pushed her sunglasses into place, did her best not to shiver, and tried to blend in with the surroundings. But the cost alone of her Louboutin peep toes separated her from the simple folk who dwelled in this town.
    Maybe she should have toned it down some. She could imagine her mother shaking her head and asking who Kate thought she’d impress.
    “Well, well, lookie who showed up after all.”
    Kate glanced over her shoulder and into the faded hazel eyes of Edna Price, an ancient woman who’d always reeked of moth balls and Listerine. The woman who’d been on the Founder’s Day Parade committee alongside her mother for as long as Kate could remember.
    “Didn’t think you’d have the gumption,” Edna said.
    Gumption? Who used that word anymore?
    Edna poked at Kate’s ankles with a moose-head walking stick. “Didn’t think you’d have the nerve,” Edna enunciated as though Kate were either deaf or mentally challenged.
    “Why would I need nerve to show up at my own mother’s funeral?” Oh, dumb