Thirteen
Genevieve knocked on my open bedroom door Monday morning. “You ready to go to town?”
I paused for a moment, wondering just when I had started thinking of this as my bedroom. It was a guest room and I was a guest. Nothing more. And only for another week at that.
Rather than stop to think about why my enthusiasm for leaving Texas as soon as humanly possible had waned to going-home-in-a-week-yay levels, I asked, “Into Rocky Gulch?”
“No ma’am,” she said with a huge grin. “We’re heading back to Fort Worth.”
She laughed when I jumped comically to my feet.
I gasped. “Really?”
I’d been wanting to visit somewhere more metropolitan than Rocky Gulch for the last few days. There were some things I needed that, sadly, the town everything store just didn’t have.
“We’re leaving in five,”
