Finally she compromised, choosing a pair of new, crisp jeans and another of her sweaters, this one a light cotton with short sleeves, knit in an Indian-inspired pattern of turquoise, gold and charcoal. She put on makeup, but kept her touch light and subtle and pulled her hair back in a single sleek braid tied with a gold and turquoise bow.
A red and white king-cab pickup pulled up at her door promptly at four-thirty. Fran didn’t wait until the driver got out and came to knock. She couldn’t restrain herself from running out to greet him.
“Cody? I don’t know if you remember me or not.”
Shorter than Ben, and somewhat huskier in build, Cody wore a bright Wrangler shirt and jeans, a big, black hat, and a heavy silver cuff bracelet on each wrist. Pausing in front of the truck, he looked at he
