It wasn’t until Maggie was a very old woman that she finally admitted that she had no idea of what really happened.

She had met Lance during her first semester at Texas Woman’s University in Denton in a cowboy bar across the street from her dormitory. He was an apprentice to the founder of a horseshoeing school in Ardmore. Their first real date was at McGee Creek Reservoir where they had torn into fried chicken and potato salad and laughed their heads off.

Lance’s family was prominent in Love County, Oklahoma. His mother, Mona, was at the top of society’s heap, a gracious hostess, high-octane volunteer and philanthropist. In fact, when the plans to create a lake in the valley were finally done, it was called Lake Mona McCoy.

The twins always called their grandmother, Big Mac and the lake was Lake Macarooni. Maggie smiled to remember it.

Those were the days, she thought as she drove home through the deepening twilight, the western sky glowing a rosy tangerine as the sun sank and lit up drifts of pink cotton candy clouds–

“Hey, how about stopping at the rest stop coming up?”

“Oh, Ok. So do you wanna drive now?”

“Yeah. I’ll take it on in from here. Nice sky, isn’t it?”

“It really is something, kinda rosy tangerine, would you say?”

“No, not really. It’s about the color of the tile in the bathroom, whatever that is.”

“