“Yes,” she said finally. “I am. Am I crazy?”

“Yes,” Missy answered without a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t know a woman alive who’d give a rat’s behind about a kid her husband fathered with his girlfriend. But you do—so that’s that. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. It’s a drop in the bucket, but I finally got Rhetta to cash the check. She called a few days ago to let me know she finally has a phone and to thank me again. I can’t make her understand that in every way that matters that money belonged to Iris.”

“Hate to break it to you, honey, but not many people would see it that way.”

Christy-Lynn remained quiet as she sipped her fizzy orange juice, weighing the wisdom of what she was about to say. If Missy already thought she was crazy, what would she think when she heard the rest? “I’ve been thinking about setting up a trust,” she blurted. “For Iris.”

Missy’s gray-green eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“You know I’ve never been comfortable with all that money. It’s just sitting there, piling up month after month. Why not give it to her?”

“What? All of it?”

“I don’t know, but a good chunk. She’d have money for doctors, tutors, schools—hell, a decent roof over her head.”

Missy shook her head dolefully. “For now, maybe. But you said it yourself, Rhetta isn’t long for this world, and her uncle doesn’t want anything to do with her. Money might come in handy today, but it’s only a short-term fix. I hate to say it, but it sounds like foster care may be the best option. At least the poor thing will be looked after and have a shot at a happy home.”

A happy home.

Christy-Lynn looked away. She’d said it so casually, as if going into foster care was some sort of solution. But then she couldn’t expect Missy to grasp the reality—or the horror—of what such a future might mean. People who grew up with puppies and swing sets would never understand that the foster care system, well-intentioned though it might be, could quickly become the stuff of nightmares for those trapped in it. Or that a child like Iris, with nightmares and inhibited verbal skills, would be starting with two strikes against her.

“I realize it doesn’t fix the long-term problem. It’s just . . . what I can do.”

“Have you discussed the idea with Rhetta?”

“Not yet. I need to do some homework first. And then I’ll have to convince her to let me do it. I can’t even imagine what Wade’s reaction will be.”

“What’s Wade got to do with it?”

“He caught me off guard the day I met Iris, and I ended up blurting out the whole story. He knew Stephen. I thought he might have some kind of insight.”

“And did he?”

“He says Stephen had no conscience.”

Missy scowled. “Hard to argue with him there.”

“He thinks I’m too invested, that I’m setting myself up for more heartache and should just let it all go.”

“And what do you think?”

“I agree with every word. I should just let it go. I’m just not sure I can.”

“Then I guess you’d better get started on that homework.”

Christy-Lynn blinked at her. “You don’t think it’s a bad idea?”

Missy’s smile was tinged with sympathy. “This is your business, honey. It’s not my place to tell you how to handle it. I just want what’s best for you. Speaking of which . . . you said something before about not sleeping well. Are you taking care of yourself?”

“It’s no big deal really.”

“But it is. Sleep is a girl’s best friend. And there’s no reason to do without. My doctor wrote me a prescription for some pills last year when I had some stuff going on, and they worked like a charm. I have a few left if you’re interested. I know you’re not big on the chemical thing, but it might help you get caught up.”

“No, but thanks for the offer. I’m sure things will smooth out once I make a decision about Iris and the trust.”

“You know, you might want to talk to Dar. She carries all kinds of oils and teas—all natural stuff. Maybe she could recommend something to help take the edge off without having to pop a pill.” She lifted her glass, draining the last of her mimosa, then stood. “I’m going inside to fix us another round. When I come back, I’ll have your present.”

Christy-Lynn didn’t want another mimosa. She didn’t want to open her present either, but she didn’t have the heart to tell Missy no. Instead she sat quietly, staring down at the creek. She had just tossed the wadded remains of her napkin onto her plate when something caught her eye. She turned to find herself being observed by a pair of sleepy golden eyes.

“Well, well. Look who’s back. Couldn’t live without me, eh?”

If the cat objected to her sarcasm, he gave no sign as he sashayed toward her, tail held high. He was about to take a second turn around her ankles when Missy reappeared.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“I don’t. He just showed up last night, ravenous and dripping wet.”

“Did you feed him?”

“Just some milk and a can of tuna.”