The Lone Star Lonely Hearts Club by Susan McBride

through landscaped trees, shrubs, and flowers. Birds twittered, a few fluttering from secluded branches to soar through the sky. It was hard to believe the place sat so close to major intersections. I felt like I was in the country, or at least at a country club.
    Beyond the courtyard, I could see a pair of tennis courts and the flag on a golf green, as well as a smattering of outbuildings. Belle Meade didn’t look like any retirement facility I’d ever seen.
    Heck, I wanted to move in. I wondered what the age requirement was, and if they might bend it by a couple decades.
    “What’re you thinking, Andy?” Annabelle asked, an edge of accusation in her voice. “That I’m crazy to be doing something like this? That I should be happily married, chasing around my little heirs and heiresses? Or maybe designing my own plus-size clothing line for other fat rich girls?”
    “No, not at all.” Where had that come from?
    “Then what?” Annabelle wiped at the beads of sweat on her upper lip, her soft face turning suddenly hard, as if a shield had gone up and she’d readied herself for my attack.
    “I’m just stunned,” I admitted.
    “Oh, sure.” Her mouth tightened into a smirk. “Stunned that I hired an arrogant doctor like Finch?” She exhaled noisily. “Really, Andy, physicians who think they’re God are a dime a dozen. It’s next to impossible to find one who doesn’t.”
    “It’s really no shocker that you hired a doctor with a God complex,” I tried to joke and wiped off my damp finger. “But what I’m amazed at is you . What you’ve accomplished.”
    “Never thought a crybaby like me would amount to much, did you? Well, you’re not the only one.”
    There it was again: the self-deprecation, the expectation that I’d belittle her achievements. I got a glimpse of her insecurity creeping out, as it had so often during summer camp.
    I shook my head. “Please, Annabelle. You’re talking to the girl who ripped out her mother’s heart by bailing on my debut. I’m surprised she hasn’t had my ball gown bronzed. Cissy still tells people I went to Columbia University, in the Ivy League, not Columbia College, the art school in Chicago. I turn thirty-one next month, I’m still not married, heaven help me.” I threw up my arms. “So, let me tell you, I know a thing or two about blowing expectations.”
    Annabelle’s armor cracked. She sighed and raised her chin, tossing brown curls over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Andy. I wasn’t thinking. We’re both square pegs, aren’t we?”
    “Square pegs with nice round trust funds.”
    “And yet, we’re almost entirely normal.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, as normal as we can be, all things considered.”
    “You’re right,” I agreed. “We could’ve been the Hilton sisters.”
    “Ack!”
    When we stopped laughing, I nudged her. “We did all right for ourselves, AB,” I said. I didn’t know how to describe what I was feeling, how proud I was that we’d both overcome our biggest obstacles to achieve something. “I love what I do, but designing Web sites for nonprofits seems small compared to getting a place like Belle Meade built. And not just one, but two.”
    Her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded vigorously. “Two for now, yes, but would you believe we’ve got plans for more on the table? We’ve got tremendous waiting lists for both facilities, and I have more interest from investors than I can handle.”
    “I can’t believe I know a business tycoon.”
    “Oh, please, they grow like ragweed around here.”
    “Not the kind who build their dreams from scratch,” I told her. “You might’ve had a head start in the numbers department, but you built this yourself. No one gave you Belle Meade on a silver platter.”
    “I guess so.” She shrugged, shaking dark hair off her shoulders. “It’s really wild, Andy, how much I’ve grown up and learned to direct my own life.” Her eyes widened.
    I’d never seen Annabelle look as happy