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“I think that would be very attractive. Yes. And I found these delightful pins shaped like American flags. Do you think we could convert them into buttons?”

One of Mimi’s penciled eyebrows was raised, but she wrote it down anyway. “I have your measurements on file, Annette. But if you want it by tomorrow, I’ll have to charge you for the rush.”

Annette waved that away. “Of course, of course. It’s worth the extra money to have just the right thing.”

When Annette left, Briar looked over the counter at Mimi’s furiously scribbled notes. As she had expected, she couldn’t read any of them. Still, she had to try. “Are you going to do a bustle effect in the back?”

Mimi nodded. “That could work. Or some ruffled pleats. The problem is this khaki twill she wants me to use. It’s so stiff, it’s like canvas.”

Briar though a moment. “If you basted the front of the skirt, you could create the illusion of volume without constructing two different skirts.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mimi said, making a note on her pad. “I didn’t realize you knew about dressmaking.”

Moment of truth. “I made this,” she said, gesturing down at her dress.

“Really?” Mimi said, leaning over the counter to get a better look. “
Hmm
. Impressive.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Briar said in a rush. “I was wondering if you had any seamstress positions available.”

“Not at the moment, dear,” Mimi said. “We don’t have many clients who are as free with their money as Annette Powell. We’ve pretty much finished production on our winter dresses, and I won’t need help again until the spring.”

“Oh,” Briar said, disappointed. “I would be willing to work part-time. Or whenever you need me.”

“I’m afraid not, dear.” But Mimi was still looking at her with interest. “May I ask, where did you get your sweater? It’s quite lovely.”

“I made this too,” said Briar quickly. “I knit in my spare time.”

“From a pattern?”

“Sometimes,” she said, unbuttoning her cardigan and handing it to Mimi without being asked. “But this is a pattern I developed on my own.”

Mimi examined the tiny stitches. “I had no idea you were so talented. We don’t typically carry knitwear, but I’m certain I could sell something like this.”

“Really? I’ve got more at home.”

“In different sizes?”

“Mostly in a six, but I could make more. And shawls and scarves, which are very versatile.”

“That’s interesting.” Mimi scrawled down more numbers and notes to herself, working something out in her head. “I’d be willing to buy this from you for two dollars right now.”

“Two dollars?” Briar yelped. She was fifteen dollars short on her rent; if she sold seven more scarves or shawls at that price, her rent would be paid. 

“I can go as high as three, but no more,” said Mimi. 

“Yes. Yes, three dollars is fine,” she said quickly, afraid of souring the deal. “I can go get more right now, if you want to take a look.”

Mimi checked her watch. “I’m closing up in thirty minutes. Why don’t you come back on Monday? I’m certain that I could sell these designs, especially once the winter weather comes in.”

“I’ll be here,” Briar said. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

When she left the dress shop, Briar was minus one sweater and plus three dollars. She could hardly believe it. If she kept this up, not only would she be able to pay her rent—she might be able to save up enough for a small apartment on her own.

She was mentally emptying her closet when she heard Norine call her name. She turned and saw her cousin waving at her from across the square. She was standing with Lt. Cavanaugh.

Briar’s excitement dropped with a thud.

She crossed the square with trepidation. “Norine. What are you doing here?”

Norine was wearing her most flirtatious smile. “Briar, meet Roger.”

“Lt. Cavanaugh,” the man corrected.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Norine said, touching him lightly on the arm before she turned to Briar. “The lieutenant is very excited to hear about what you can do.”

“What?” Briar said, stumbling back.

“I told him all about your powers. The lying stuff. He’s hoping for a demonstration.”

“No. No! I can’t believe you did this to me.”

Briar turned, ignoring Norine’s shouts as she ran back across the square.

Norine caught up with her two blocks from home. “Briar, wait! Don’t make me run in pumps.”

Briar whirled. “Why would you tell him? You don’t even believe I have powers.”

“Oh,
psh
,” Norine said, waving away three months of conflict between them. “It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you. I just thought, well, why rock the boat? But now, after hearing the lieutenant’s speech, I understand. It’s your patriotic duty.” 

She laid a hand over her heart. “Just think, Briar. When you join the military, you’ll be positively surrounded by handsome men.”

“But I don’t want to join the military,” Briar moaned. She had been counting on staying under the radar. But now …. “How much did you tell him?”

“I said that you can tell when people are lying. He asked if you could read minds, and I said, ‘I sure hope not.’ He laughed and said I was a clever girl. Do you think he’s married?”

“I can’t believe you did this to me!”

Norine put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean? You’ve been trying to get me to listen to you for weeks, and now you’re mad that I believe you?” 

Briar scoffed. “Is that your version of an apology for how you’ve been treating me?”

“How I’ve been treating you? How about how you’ve been treating me?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Norine stamped her foot in frustration. “Ever since the Firelight Festival, you’ve been so different. You never want to talk about clothes or boys or anything fun. You won’t even gossip with me anymore. You make me feel like everything I care about is stupid, and it’s so unfair.”

Norine fisted her hands on her hips, like she always did when she wasn’t willing to budge. “You used to care about these things. You used to care about me. Now you just treat me like I’m a fool.”

“I don’t think you’re a fool,” Briar said.

“Did it hurt you to say that?” When Briar didn’t reply, Norine crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. So I’m a fool. I’m shallow and useless. You’re so high and mighty, always telling the truth. It may hurt you to lie, but the truth hurts the rest of us.”

Briar stood frozen as her cousin stalked back toward town. Norine had a tendency to be dramatic, but it didn’t make her feelings any less real. 

She was right; it was Briar who had changed, not Norine. It was Briar who had broken their friendship. But she couldn’t think of any way to repair it.

Briar spent the afternoon going through her closet and trying to think of a way to repair things with Norine. Consequently, she was nearly late. When she hurried out of the house, Charlie was waiting for her beside the passenger side of his truck. 

Just the sight of him sent a giddy spike of love through her heart. He had shaved, she noticed. He looked more boyish without the beard; his eyes looked brighter, his mouth softer. His hair was combed, and …, “Charlie Huston, are you wearing a tie?”

He tugged at it sheepishly, and if she hadn’t already fallen in love with him she would have tumbled over at that moment. This was not the night for brooding, she decided. She was in love, and that was worth enjoying. 

Dismissing all her worries, she dashed up to Charlie and kissed him happily on the mouth. “Where are we going? Someplace fancy?”

“Depends on your definition of fancy.” He kissed her more thoroughly before they both got in the truck. 

“Am I dressed okay?”

“You look great,” he said, taking in her floral printed sundress with short sleeves. The ruffles on the bodice had taken her hours to perfect, but every second with a needle and thread was justified when Charlie’s eyes lingered hungrily upon her. 

She smoothed the skirt with her suddenly-shaky hands. “Thank you. But I meant do I look appropriate for where we’re going? I brought a sweater, and a change of shoes.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, shoving the truck into gear.

“Charlie, I know we don’t have a lot of options, but I’d rather not go to McPherson’s. I’m too embarrassed about how I left there.”

“That’s not where we’re going,” he said cheerily. “Just relax. I think you’re going to like this.”

She told him about her success at Mimi’s as they drove through town toward the farmlands on the southeast side. Briar had explored this section of town on her own late-night rambles; she knew that this road dead-ended at the Sokolov’s farm. But Charlie knew the road better than she did; he turned off into a small lane she might have missed in the trees. 

“This is my Uncle Rick’s land.”

She waited for more explanation, but he didn’t give it. Her stomach rumbled; she assumed that their date would include dinner. “I’d love to meet your uncle, but—”

“Oh, we won’t run into him. He’s packing up to head to the high country.”

“It’s a nice time to go camping, I suppose.”

“It’s not that. He’s worried that the government is going to come after him because he was a member of the Communist party in the thirties.”

“He was? I always heard people say he was a bit wild when he was young.”

“He stands up for what he thinks is important. You remind me of him.”

She blushed with pleasure. “But if he’s not here, then why are we … oh my.”

They had come over a rise that opened up to the prettiest spot Briar had ever seen. Wildflowers blanketed the ground in a riot of late-summer color. She loved Colorado’s hardy wildflowers with their whimsical names: Fairy Trumpets, Cowboy’s Delight, Rosy Pussytoes. All those and more were jostling for the last of the day’s sunshine. 

Beyond the spread of the flowers was an ancient mill, its stones tumbled and overgrown with moss. A sparkling stream tinkled by. In the distance, the twin mountains of Desolation and Jubilation speared into a azure sky dotted with clouds. “Oh, Charlie, this is gorgeous.”

“I thought about getting you flowers,” he said. “But then I thought, no bouquet could compare with this.” 

“It’s just wonderful. Thank you for—wait, can we stop for a few minutes?”

“We are,” he said as he laboriously turned the truck around so the bed was facing the view. “This is where we’re having dinner, if it’s okay with you.”

She envisioned eating wax-paper wrapped sandwiches sitting on the back hatch of his truck. Maybe she had overdressed. But still, there was the view, and there was Charlie. The rest didn’t matter. 

When she got out, she realized there was a tarp covering Charlie’s truck bed. “Help me with this, will you?” he said as he tugged at the rope tying the tarp down. 

Curious, she unknotted the rope and pulled back the tarp. “Oh, Charlie,” she said breathlessly.

“I was hoping you would like that,” he said with a grin. He had filled the truck bed with so many pillows and blankets it could have been a harem tent. There was a large picnic basket, a jug filled with water, and a four pack of cola that was still frosty with cold. 

“Might as well be comfortable, right?”

She threw her arms around him. “Thank you. This is perfect. The perfect way to spend an evening.”

“Oh wait, I almost forgot,” he said, breaking out of her embrace. “Start unpacking that picnic basket, will you? I’m starving.”

She was so enthralled with laying out the contents of the basket—cold fried chicken, fresh peaches, hard cheese made right here in town, plus Mindy Huston’s prize-winning strawberry-rhubarb pie—that she didn’t look up until she heard the scrape of a match. 

Charlie had carefully affixed some squat candles along the edge of his truck bed, and now they were giving off a warm light against the darkening sky. “It’ll be dark soon,” he said with a smile. “And I want to be able to see you.” 

It took some maneuvering, but soon enough they were snuggled against the back wall of the truck bed, watching the sun descend between the mountains as they fed each other tidbits between kisses. 

Soon there were more kisses than tidbits, until the food was all but forgotten. Briar’s heart sped up when she thought of Charlie’s words.
The first time we make love, I want to be someplace beautiful, where I can be alone with you
. 

Briar broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against Charlie’s. Both of them were flushed and short of breath, so close she could smell the clean scent of the cream he had used to shave. 

“It’s beautiful here,” she whispered, “And we’re all alone. Charlie. Make love to me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Charlie

Charlie couldn’t form words. All the blood seemed to have drained out of his brain. The sky had deepened to navy blue while they’d eaten, and the stars were beginning to sparkle beyond the candlelight. 

He felt keyed up, barely in control of himself. It was just how he had felt before a big game—jittery, highly focused.

Mechanically, he started to repack the picnic basket. 

“Oh, no, don’t do that. We don’t have to leave. If you don’t want to—”

“What?” he said, nearly spilling potato salad all over the basket. “No, of course I want to. I mean, we don’t have to. I didn’t bring you out here for this.”

She was smiling impishly at him. “Yes, you did.”

“Well, I’ll admit I was hoping. I just figured I’d get this stuff out of the way. But if you don’t want to—”

“Of course I want to.” 

Where had she learned to smile like that? Knowing and innocent all at once. She looked like a Renaissance painting in candlelight, all tumbled hair and luminous skin. He was about to tell her when she took a deep breath.

“I think it would be best,” she said, “if we went ahead and took your pants off.”

He couldn’t help it; he laughed like a loon. “I like this kind of honesty from you.” 

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

“I just thought—it would be practical if you stripped first, so we don’t have to fumble with it later. I’ll help you, if you want.”