The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

was quiet for a long time. Sam watched her, wondering about her reaction.

      “Have you talked to your parents about it?” she quietly asked.

      “Yeah. My mother.”

      “I can see it’s really eating you up.” Abby said carefully.

      “Wouldn’t it eat you up? To find out you’re related to someone like Owens? I wouldn’t blame you if you never want to see me again.” Sam’s voice was harsh.

      Abby was stunned. “Why? What’s it got to do with you?”

      “It’s the heredity thing. Samuel Owens is my grandfather. What if I’ve got his evil genes? What if I turn into a psycho?”

      “You won’t.” Abby spoke softly. “You are one of the nicest guys I’ve ever known. And you won’t go bad.”

      Sam stared at her. His eyes shone. “You mean that?”

      “Yes.” Abby reached across the seat and touched Sam’s hand. It was a beautiful hand, long-fingered and strong.

      Sam placed his other hand over hers and held it tightly. “Abby, my grandfather threatened you with a shotgun last Wednesday. Can you honestly say it doesn’t affect how you think of me?”

      “Samuel Owens is a horrible, scary, mixed-up man. What he does affects how I think of him, not how I think of you.”

      “I was afraid you’d turn against me.”

      “I wouldn’t turn against you because of something someone else did,” Abby said. “Never.”

      “Thank you, Abby.”

      “Does Samuel Owens know that you’re his grandson?”

      Sam looked blank. “I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, he’d know that my mother was his daughter.”

      “I’m going to guess he doesn’t want to know,” said Abby thoughtfully. “That he completely refuses to acknowledge his part in this. It’d be in his interest not to be accountable.”

      “You’re probably right,” agreed Sam. “Anyway, I’m certainly not going to tell him.”

      “This doesn’t affect how you think of Samuel Owens, does it? Now that he’s family?”

      “Don’t worry about that,” Sam said. “I’ll never think of him as family. He turned my grandmother out, and Grandpa is the only grandfather I know.”

      Abby nodded. Another question occurred to her. “Why would your mother name you after someone who’d treated her own mother so badly? Who’d used her, then threw her out into the streets to fend for herself in a world that would’ve been hostile, to say the least?”

      “I asked her that.” Sam paused. “She said our family had been living in shame over something that Owens did and got away with. It was always a dirty secret, and why should we help him hide it? ‘Facilitate’ was her word. She said that naming me Samuel kind of released her, was cathartic. ‘Opened the windows’ was how she put it.”

      Abby thought about how unfair it was. The more she knew about Samuel Owens, the more she disliked him. She sat looking through the windshield. It was nice sitting in the old red Ford, next to Sam again.

      She turned to face him. “So. Is there anything else you want to tell me? Any more hidden secrets?”

      “No. That’s it.”

      “That’s all? That Owens is related to you?”

      “Yes.”

      Abby paused and smiled at Sam. “So?”

      “So what?” asked Sam.

      “Now that you’ve told me, aren’t you going to ask me out again?”

      Sam began to laugh.

      “That’s what you said, you know, before you told me.”

      “I did, didn’t I?” Sam slowly stopped laughing. “Abby Malone, will you go out with me?”

      “You’re sure you want to?”

      “Yes, Abby, I’m sure. I’ve missed you.” He gently encircled her with his arms and pulled her to him. He slowly smiled as his lips met hers. They kissed, pleasant sensations tingling down to their toes.

      “Forget the burger,” Abby said dreamily.

      11

      PLANS AND SCHEMES

      ABBY JUMPED OUT OF BED the next morning, humming. Life was good. It was Saturday, the sun was shining, and Sam was her boyfriend again. He said he would call when he awoke to make plans. He worked Saturdays and Wednesday nights at a video store.

      “Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam!” she sang as she jumped into a sweat-suit. She made his name sound like bells ringing. “Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam.”

      “Someone sounds happy this morning,” Joy called up the stairs. “Come on down! Breakfast is ready.”

      “Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam,” she sang as she half-hopped, half-slid down the banister.

      “Mousie called earlier. She and Sandy have some errands to run in town, but she wants to know if you can go over to Hogscroft after lunch.”

      “Perfect. Nothing could be better.” Abby plunked into her chair and drank the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. “Ahh! This is so good, Mrs. Featherstone. You’re spoiling me with all your yummy food.”

      “That’s the idea. You’re worth spoiling, Abby. Besides, it gives me pleasure. I love to cook, and it’s no fun cooking just for myself.” She placed a plateful of steaming waffles covered in butter and maple syrup alongside aromatic sausages in front of the hungry girl.

      “Thank you!” Abby bit into a sausage. “What are Sandy and Hilary doing in town?”

      “Choosing an engagement ring, among other things.” The older woman’s eye sparkled mischievously.

      “An engagement ring! They’re getting married?”

      “I don’t know of any other reason to get an engagement ring, do you?”

      “When are they getting married?” Abby dug into the waffles with her fork.

      “They haven’t set a date, but I think they’d like to be married before they go off to Belize this fall. Orange juice?”

      “No, thanks. Well, okay, sure. Please. That means this summer. Holy.” Abby cut a piece of sausage and dipped it in mustard. “Holy,” she said again, then popped it into her mouth.

      “What are you doing today, Mrs. Featherstone?”

      “Theatre work, mainly. Robert and I are making our final casting selections. The list goes up this afternoon, tomorrow the cast meets for a get-together, and Monday evening rehearsals start.”

      “What play are you doing? Can you tell me? I know it’s been a secret.”

      “Actually, it wasn’t a secret at all. We wanted to see what kind of talent we had before we decided on a play.”

      “Smart move,” nodded Abby. “You don’t want to pick a musical if you don’t have singers.”

      “Exactly. Turns out we have plenty of talent, and plenty of people interested in acting. It’s wonderful, really.”

      “You and Mr. Wick are spending a lot of time together.” Abby watched to see Joy’s reaction. Her back was turned as she poured Abby’s juice, but Abby saw her cheeks tighten into a smile. “What’s the scoop?”

      “We’re friends. We have a good time,” said Joy cryptically.

      “That’s it? A good time?”

      “That’s all I’m