Free The Girl Most Likely To... by Susan Donovan Page A

Carrie. Madeline sounded defeated. What do you want?
    Just the tiniest little favor. It's so small, it's almost nothing, really.
    Kat pulled her jacket across her chest, tucking her hands beneath her arms to stay warm. Though the sun was out, she'd forgotten how chilly early autumn mornings could be up in the mountains.
    She walked at a steady pace, letting her eyes take in Persuasion's Main Street district, a place at once familiar and exotic. Most of Kat's life had taken place in only two geographic locations: this small Appalachian town and the working-class streets of Baltimore. Her only vacations had been the annual jaunts she took with Phyllis and Aidan to the boardwalk at Ocean City and the lone lost weekend spent with Nola back in 1991 in Virginia Beach, where Nola had met the man who would become her first and shortest-lived husband.
    After a quickie wedding and an even quicker divorce, Nola made this request of Kat: Promise me that no matter how ass-kickin' hot he may be, you will never again allow me to fall for a man with a beer can collection.
    Kat hugged herself, taking in the changes of her hometown. It seemed that several of the old brick storefronts had been torn down, and most everything that remained had been spruced up. The old Rialto movie theater was still in business, advertising a teen slasher flick and a romantic comedy. The five-and-dime appeared to be going strong, though it now referred to itself as a dollar store. There were coffeehouses and bookstores where there used to be pharmacies and insurance offices, a yoga and Pilates studio where there'd once been a candy store, and a bustling copy and express-shipping business in the building that used to house Millhouse Fashions. That's where Kat stopped.
    She stared into the plate-glass windows, remembering the day her mother brought her here. They'd come to buy the red wool dress coat with the black velvet Peter Pan collar that Kat would wear from third to fifth grades. She'd loved that coat, and it wasn't due to the style, because it was insanely old-fashioned. It was what it representedone of the few days she'd ever spent alone in her mother's company, with her full attention. On that day, Kat felt treasured, for no other reason than she was her mother's daughter.
    Kat closed her eyes to hold on to the memory. But it slipped away, immediately replaced by the dull ache of loss. Today was the first day she'd woken up knowing with certainty that she'd never see her mother again.
    Kat glanced up at the sound of laughter. Three college girls were headed her way, all with long straight hair parted down the middle, heads held high, walking the walk of brazen confidence. Kat smiled at them. Good morning, she said.
    Good morning!
    She looked over her shoulder to watch them head into the coffee shop. In Kat's opinion, the single redeeming feature of Persuasion had always been the campus of Mountain Laurel College, and it pleased her to see that the regular influx of young people had kept the blood pumping in this town for the twenty years she'd been away.
    Kat continued on for a moment, then stopped in her tracks. In the display window of Wilson's Gallery of Fine Art, between a hand-woven shawl and a selection of pottery, was a style of sculpture she'd recognize anywhere. A small white card propped against the figure read: /Untitled No. 236, alpha gypsum and polymers, V. L. Cavanaugh, 2007./ She leaned her forehead against the cold glass and stared. Had her mother died just before he did this? Or had he come back from visiting her in the hospital and headed right to his studio? Either way, Kat could see the pain in the sculpture of a man's hands reaching upward and bursting into flames. As always, she wondered who would buy such a thing and place it somewhere to be admired. A Satan worshipper? Some aging hippie who remembered her dad's place in the Andy Warhol days of the New York art scene?
    Kat cupped a hand around her eyes and peered inside, seeing a dozen