The sound of tires crunching over gravel pulled Isobel’s gaze toward the window. Through the haze of her tears, she spotted Bella Rose’s dusty old pickup rolling into the drive, a trail of fine red dirt curling in the morning sun.

A moment later, the screen door creaked open, and Rose stepped in without knocking, her spurs giving a faint jingle with each step. “Heard you been keepin’ to yourself,” she said, setting her hat on the counter. One glance at Isobel’s blotchy eyes and ...