Excerpt of A Fabulous Wife by Dianne Castell

Jack uncurled himself from the white minivan. Three hours
ago he'd left Billings, Montana, crossed the Yellowstone
River and driven to Whistlers Bend, under sunny skies and
surrounded by mountains that seemed to go on forever.

That was good because the terrific weather and spectacular
scenery had made the driving easy…and it was bad because
his parents had insisted on stopping to photograph every
mountain peak, pine tree, brook and critter along the way.
He'd never dreamed that buying them a digital camera for
their grandson's graduation could be so…time-consuming.

"Oh, Jack," his mother now said in a gush as she slid from
the passenger side and waved at the town. "What a
perfectly darling place with all the cute little shops and
stores. There's a square."

She turned to her husband as he climbed from the back
seat. "Don't you feel like you're in that Horse Whisperer
movie, Edward? They even have a saloon with neon signs in
the window and a diner called the Purple Sage. We should
all buy cowboy hats and get our pictures taken with a
buffalo."

His dad nodded. "And put it on the Christmas cards, Gert,
and enclose a family newsletter." He slapped Jack on the
back. "Can't believe you haven't been here for ten years,
son. This is terrific."

Jack thought of himself in a cowboy hat and
shuddered. "It's not exactly my bag, Dad. Here the Cubs
are bears, not a ball club, and ranch isn't something you
put on salad. I don't exactly fit in."

And that was true, but the main reason he'd stayed away
was Maggie. Immediately after their divorce he'd visited
Ben every few months, but three years of also seeing
Maggie had made him realize that the only way to get her
out of his head and heart was to get her out of his life.
That had meant flying Ben to Chicago and staying the hell
away from Whistlers Bend. And it had worked until —

Oh, boy. "Look," his mother said. "There's Maggie now,
crossing the street at the next block."

Suddenly, thirteen years and all Jack Dawson's great
decisions vanished like a pickpocket into a crowd. His
heartbeat kicked up a notch and his chest tightened. He
watched Maggie walk down the sidewalk and old feelings
stirred his gut.

Maggie looked good. Better than good. Better than he
imagined, though he tried not to imagine her at all.

His dad chuckled.'she still has that same fast walk.
Turning forty hasn't slowed her down any. She always did
things at warp speed. Sometimes made me feel like I was
standing still, and I was a cop in good shape." He hitched
himself up tall. "Not in too bad of shape now."

Jack raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, same old
Maggie."

"Don't know who you're watching, son, but this Maggie is
not old."

And she wasn't. Not one bit. Nice curves. Woman curves.
She walked past Pretty in Pink, Anna's Apothecary, the
Purple Sage Café then into the sheriff's office.

His mother frowned. "I don't think she sees us." Edward
said, "I don't think she's even looking for us."

Jack turned to his mother. "You did phone and tell her I
decided to come two days early, and you were coming with
me, instead of flying in next week, because your house was
getting painted?"

She tsked. "Of course I did. I had a nice conversation
with Ben and he said that was sweet, which I assumed meant
good and has nothing to do with sugar. He said he'd tell
Maggie and she'd call back if there was a problem. And I
said that was sweet." His mother tipped her chin. "No
square grandmothers here. I can do the lingo. Anyway,
Maggie never called back, so everything must be…sweet."

Jack felt his eyes widen. "Ben? You told Ben? Mom, he
graduates in a week. He has a girlfriend who's two years
older than him and who's a high school dropout. He plays
baseball instead of studying and has senioritus so bad we
weren't sure there'd be a graduation. His brain is
sawdust, the rest of him hormones. You should have talked
to Maggie, or maybe her dad. Henry would have passed on
the message."

His mother straightened her spine; his dad frowned. They
gave Jack their best our-grandson-is-perfect look.

"All right, all right." Jack held up his hands in
surrender. "I'll find out what's going on. Maybe Maggie
got the message and just didn't expect us this early."
Though a one-hour trip from Billings that had turned into
a three-hour trip could not make them early for
anything. "You two get something to eat over at the Purple
Sage. It's been a long, long ride."

Edward slid the van door closed. "Good idea. You and
Maggie could do with a few minutes alone after all these
years. And those wide-open spaces made me feel sort of
empty. I'm in the mood for pie. Henry's always bragging
about that lemon meringue pie he gets at the Purple Sage."

His mother hooked her arm through her husband's and
winked. "Then we'll buy cowboy hats." She pointed. "There.
I see a shop called Horn to Hoof. Bet that's the place to
go. This is just like a John Wayne movie."

They turned toward the café and Jack rolled his shoulders.
Welcome to ten days of the Dawsons' Wild West Show.
Dropping in on Maggie unexpectedly after thirteen years
was not what he wanted; doing it with his parents in tow
was a double whammy. What should he say after all this
time? Surprise! Guess what…I'm early.

Oh, they talked on the phone every few weeks or so, but
mostly about Ben and his performance — or nonperformance —
in school. Nothing personal. Cop stories were the last
thing on her mind, since being a cop is what had driven
them apart. Cattle were not exactly his bag unless served
up with steak sauce.

They'd led separate lives just as they'd wanted, the cop
and the rancher's daughter. Until now.

He jaywalked without cars and buses screeching to a halt
or drivers yelling colorful expletives and flipping
unmistakable hand gestures — a part of Chicago he didn't
miss — and entered the gray clapboard building with white
shutters. Maggie was saying to the thirty-something deputy
behind the desk, "Well, Roy, did you find him?"

Her thick curly auburn hair swayed across her shoulders
and Jack recalled those curls sliding slowly through his
fingers.