“There’s that too.” Eileen held up another finger. “I wonder if she’ll be back often to check out the production?”
“I’m pretty sure she’s only on the acquisitions side of things.” Joanna licked some sauce from her thumb. “She’d only be involved in the negotiations, not the implementations. At least, I think that’s what she said when she optioned the rights to my other book.”
“Nope.” Morgan eased his head left then right. “She specifically told me she’d be around to see it through.”
Joanna shrugged. “I may have misunderstood. There was a lot going on that day. Besides, optioning my book is very different. Lots of books get optioned and are never sold into production, but for the rehab idea she already has a taker.”
“So she’d be sticking around.” Neil smiled at Joanna’s comment. “That could be interesting.”
Morgan didn’t like the gleam in his brother’s eye any better than he had when Neil had met Valerie at the café.
“I wonder if she owns a pair of jeans.” Aunt Eileen’s face pinched in thought.
“Good point.” Sean nodded. “Not a single woman I know from these parts would be running about that broken down town in a dress and high heels. Or much of anywhere around here for that matter.”
“At least,” Hannah piped in, “they weren’t very high heels.”
Sean shook his head. “High or low, a heel sinks just the same in dry sand.”
“I’m sure she owns sensible shoes and more clothing than the expensive accessories we’ve seen so far.” Aunt Eileen waved a hand at her husband. “Who can blame her for wanting to be a part of reviving Sadieville?”
Thinking back on how excited Valerie had gotten with every new discovery made Morgan smile. Actually, just about everything with her today made him want to smile, even her braving the dust covered town in high heels and a dress.
“And what has you grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream?” His aunt looked down her nose at him.
“Just thinking about walking the old town.”
“Uh-huh.” His aunt kept her gaze fixed on him.
“It was almost fun watching the town come to life through her eyes. You should have seen how she nearly salivated over the idea of a hotel resort with fine dining and a spa.”
“Fine dining?” Fork frozen midway to his mouth, Sean’s gaze bookended his wife’s. “Hope she doesn’t expect to find any of that in Tucker’s Bluff.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t.” There was no point in debating her expectations. After only a few hours with Valerie, Morgan had no doubt her expectations for lowly West Texas were anything but high. She was a big city girl through and through. Although, his gaze dropped to his bandaged hand, without hesitation she’d taken charge and not flinched at the sight of blood, nor given a second thought to using her fashionable scarf. For sure, at least this big city girl was no wuss.
The tea kettle whistled and Meg turned off the burner. “How did it go?”
“Better than I expected.” The entire drive back to town from the ranch, Valerie had been processing all the thoughts bouncing around in her head. She’d been sorely tempted to accept Eileen’s invitation to stay for dinner, if for no other reason than her braised ribs smelled divine. But so many ideas had been kicked about on her visit to the old town that she needed time for everything to gel. Besides, if she were honest with herself, sitting at the same table with Morgan Farraday would have been too much of a distraction. Something about that man was seriously hard to resist. Maybe it was the hat. Or the boots.
Who was she kidding? The slightest of smiles sent her stomach doing somersaults, and the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at her made her heart dance. She was acting like a hormonal teen. She really needed to get a grip and concentrate on work. She had business to figure out.
“Knock knock.” A woman’s voice carried down the hall.
“In the kitchen, Becky,” Meg called out.
“Hi.” A pretty brunette with a ponytail dangling down her back bounced into the room. “Caitlin went right to sleep and DJ is glued to the sports channel. So of course I came here.”
“Just in time too.” Meg opened the oven door. “Blueberry crumb cake is ready.”
“You’re baking?” The utter surprise in the woman’s voice led Val to believe this was something out of the ordinary.
“Of course not.” Meg set the warm pan on a cooling rack. “Toni made it. All I did was slide it into the oven and wait for the timer to ding.”
The brunette flopped onto a nearby stool. “Oh thank goodness. I don’t know that I could’ve turned down blueberry crumb cake even if you had baked it.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “I’m not that bad. Becky, say hello to Valerie Moore. Becky is my sister-in-law. She’s married to DJ, my husband’s brother.”
Not even another minute passed by when Abbie from the café trotted in, making the rounds hugging everyone. “My feet are killing me. I’m ready to sink into a sea of down feathers.”
“Then you don’t want a slice of crumb cake?” Meg teased.
“Of course I do. I may be tired but I’m not stupid.” Just to assure everyone, she leaned up a little straighter, eyeing the cooling cake. “I swear the world has gone nuts. Felix brought this week’s copy of the paper in. All anyone could talk about was the piece on the dogs. Seems there’s a black market for stolen pedigree dogs. Ever since some character got a six-figure reward for returning a movie star’s dog, it’s become big business.”
“I read that they suspect the person who stole the dog and collected the reward are probably the same and,” Meg pointed at Abbie, “a French bulldog was stolen right out of the mayor of Butler Springs’ yard. They found him when the new owner who paid almost ten grand for it, took it to the vet for a check up and they found the chip.”
Becky shook her head. “So glad we don’t have to deal with crazy stuff like that here in Tuckers Bluff.”
“I’m back.” The woman introduced to Val earlier as another sister-in-law, Toni, bounced into the room, leaned over to give Becky a kiss on the cheek and landed in the seat beside Valerie. “Helen has really become a model child at bedtime. Brooks isn’t on call tonight so I decided I wouldn’t mind a little of that crumb cake I left you.”
“Then you’re here just in the nick of time.” Becky laughed.
Valerie didn’t know what was in the water, but these women had hugging hello down to a science and were all full of pep and energy. “Is it always this busy at night?” She hoped that didn’t come off to the others as snarky as it sounded to her own ears.
Pulling a stack of plates from the cupboard, Meg shook her head. “Not usually, but sometimes when the stars align we’ll get the chance to hang out together.” She sent out a dish in front of each woman, and one more.
“Are we expecting someone else?”
All the women nodded.
Meg slid a slice of cake onto her dish. “Odds are pretty good that if Allison drives by and sees all the cars out front, she’s going to stop too. The woman works too hard.”
“Another sister-in-law?”
“Ethan’s wife. She and Brooks run the new hospital here in town.”
“Besides,” Toni handed out forks, “she’s gonna want to hear firsthand all about Hollywood coming to Tuckers Bluff.”
“Wait a minute.” Becky held up her hands. “Since when is Hollywood coming to Tuckers Bluff?”
Toni reached for a napkin. “Since Valerie here decided to do a reality TV show with the Oklahoma cousins fixing up the old ghost town.”
“Should be a big hit.” Meg set her glass down. “There are plenty of women, fans of decorating shows or not, who would tune in to watch any Farraday brother for thirty minutes a week, regardless of whether or not they have a clue how to hammer a nail.”
“Add to that the fun of watching something so filled with history come back to life, that’s seriously cool.” So engrossed with their cake and companionship, none of the women noticed the brun
ette, most likely the doctor they were expecting, who had quietly entered the room and picked up on the conversation without skipping a beat. “I especially love the idea of the spa.”
Val wasn’t so sure how these people knew so much about her show when she’d barely put the pieces together herself this afternoon.
Toni put her fork down. “I admit I’m especially intrigued by who will be tagged to run the nice restaurant. This town really does need something a little fancier than the café or the pub.” The pretty blonde leaned over and patted Abbie’s knee. “No offense intended.”
Abbie shook her head and waved an arm at her sister-in-law. “None taken. I get tired of Frank’s cooking sometimes too.”
“I freely admit DJ’s a better cook than I am,” Becky bragged on her husband. “I’m guessing it’s because Aunt Eileen is better than my grandmother. And heaven knows my mother couldn’t boil water.”
“Well, I cook just fine.” Toni rubbed her curled fingertips against her shoulder.
“You don’t count.” Meg waved a finger at her longtime friend. “You’re Italian. Cooking delicious food is part of your DNA.”
“Still,” Toni turned to Valerie, “it’s nice to have something put in front of you that was cooked with ingredients you’ll never find in your own refrigerator.”
“Good to know.” Val smiled at Toni. “But how do you guys know so much about this? I’ve been back for less than an hour.”
Meg was the first to chuckle. “I suspect Aunt Eileen mentioned it to one of the afternoon social club ladies.”
“From there,” Toni looked to Valerie, “they most likely spread it to half the town.”
“And that half,” Abbie reached for her teacup, “came to the café to share with the rest of town.”
“I see.” Not that she had any secrets—yet—but she was going to have to remember the Tuckers Bluff communication network was more efficient than Western Union.
“So,” Becky reached for another piece of cake, “I hear this could take months. Will you be here that long?”
“I don’t know yet.” Val didn’t even have a green light from anyone, but she knew with the networks wanting her to do another rehab series, this concept was a slam dunk.
“I understand Neil wants to go look.” Meg sliced more cake.
“Really?” That was good news. “I wonder if he has time tomorrow?”
The women looked left to right in an oddly coordinated silent message. Valerie’s life didn’t exactly include hanging out with a lot of women friends. Actually, other than Marilyn, her career path hadn’t left her a lot of time for friends since college. LA was spread far and wide and careers and lifestyle changes made hanging out with friends in her business tough. Still, she got the feeling she was the only person in the room not in on some secret. “Am I missing something?”
Meg sucked in a long breath. “Do you own any, ehm, sensible shoes?”
“Of course I do.” That was a silly question. “Gucci makes some great wedges for when I have to do a lot of walking.”
That same look passed from one in-law to another.
Meg bobbed her chin once. “I was thinking of something more rugged. Like cowboy boots or something with laces.”
Laces?
Becky swallowed her last bite and grinned up at her. “What about jeans? You have to have jeans.”
Slowly, she nodded. Though she had a feeling the $200 denims hanging in her closet at home weren’t what these women had in mind.
“You don’t look terribly convinced,” Allison said through a thin smile. “As a former Northern Cali girl, I’m going to guess the jeans you’re thinking of aren’t anything you’d want to wear around concrete or paint?”
Val felt her eyes round as though she’d stuck her wet finger in a high volt socket.
“Thought so.” Allison walked to the tea kettle. “You look to be Meg’s size.”
“I have a couple of pairs I haven’t fit in since Fiona was born. You can have your pick.”
“If you wear size eight shoes, I have a pair of snazzy boots that are a little big for me,” Toni piped in. “You can have them.”
“Boots?” she muttered.
“Have you ever tried a pair on?” Toni hopped off her seat, empty cup in hand. “Once they’re broken in those suckers are more comfortable than my bedroom slippers.”
“No one,” Meg shook her head, “wants to give up a well broken-in pair of boots. Neither man nor woman.”
By the time the hen party was over, she’d consumed more crumb cake than she had all year, she had not one but two pairs of the softest fitting jeans she’d ever worn, Toni had run home and back to deliver one butter soft pair of cowboy boots that might as well have been custom made for her, and Becky donated a real cowboy—or would that be cowgirl—hat that would definitely keep the shade off her face. Standing in front of the mirror, even with her own neatly pressed button down shirt, she looked like she’d fallen off the cover of Southwest Ranch and Family. The look wasn’t her at all, but holy moly if she didn’t rock it.
Chapter Eight
“How’s the hand doing?”
After only a couple of days—and a few hours at that—of hearing that voice, he knew it instantly. The odd thing was how the mere sound of it made him want to smile. Setting the tray of drywall compound on the ground, he turned to see Valerie standing in the doorway. Blinking twice, he almost raised his hands to swipe the disbelief from his eyes. The last thing he’d expected to see was a woman who, except for the colorful scarf tied loosely around her neck and those huge dark glasses perched on her head, looked as though she were born and raised in West Texas. While his brain thought wow, his mouth muttered, “Nice boots.”
She lifted her toes, rolling back on her heels. “The girls were right. They’re pretty comfortable.”
“They look good on you.” Everything looked good on her. Too good.
“Thanks.” She tipped her chin in the direction of his hands. “I guess it’s doing all right?”
He bobbed his head and wiggled his fingers. “Every once in a while it reminds me that it’s been cut, but for the most part it’s in just the right spot not to interfere too much with holding tools.”
“Good. I know how much getting all this finished means to Meg and yesterday was pretty much shot thanks to our trip out to Three Corners.”
“With Neil helping we’ve got the new sheetrock up and taped and bedded. We’ll blow some texture on next and while it dries we can run Neil out to the town.”
She turned her head, scanning the room. “Where is he?”
“We’re running a little low on the drywall compound so he’s picking up an extra bag while I finish this up.”
“Well, I guess I’d better let you finish.” She took a step back and did a half turn, giving him another glimpse of how well the jeans hugged her figure.
“I’m actually done.” And a good thing too. He’d been able to tuck the original version of Valerie – like he had Carolyn – into the same box labeled ambitious city girls. This new rendition was just a pinch too distracting. “Just have to rinse off these tools and then I’m all yours.” Her eyes widened for just an instant before a smile crossed her face, and he quickly wished he’d picked another phrase. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Too bad.” She spun on her boot heel and, for a California girl, did a great job of sashaying out the door. Maybe it was the boots, but somehow he didn’t think so.
Everything set aside and wiping his hands, the door to the private apartment opened and for a moment Morgan thought it might be Valerie again.
“Well, that was an interesting walk through town.” Neil dropped the bag and a few other items on the floor by the door. “Seems the sisters are all riled up.”
“Riled? Those sweet old ladies?”
Neil rolled his eyes at his brother. “I’m not kidding. They, like everyone else in town, heard that Valerie wants to do a reality TV show set in Three Corners.”
“
And they don’t like the idea of someone else vying for their ancestor’s town?”
Neil shook his head. “Not at all. It seems they’ve wanted collaborators to step up and do things to improve the town, but they gave up because of the ghosts.”
Morgan coughed on his own spit. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. They think the place is haunted.”
The urge to laugh was overwhelming, but the serious expression painted on his brother’s face didn’t look to be a laughing matter. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“Not even a little bit. Even though you and I know better than to believe in ghosts, those two sisters are convinced that some woman is haunting the place. It may sound crazy to us but to them it’s very real. Apparently, that’s the reason they stopped fixing the town up themselves.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous. We all know old houses creek in the dark of night, wind blows through chimneys and cracks, all you need is a few squawking owls in the mix and you can scare just about any mortal with a vivid imagination.”
“All I know is they were pretty convinced and seemed almost apoplectic at the idea that we’re considering more than a single daylight visit.”
“So the ghost or ghosts only comes out at night?”
Neil shrugged. “They weren’t terribly specific. Believe it or not, I was trying my best to escape so we can get out there and back in time to have this room painted for Meg before nightfall.”
“And that’s the key word. No matter who takes on the project, if anyone does at all, I doubt they’ll be doing much night work.”
“Well, if we don’t get boogying, we’ll be the ones doing night work.” Neil reached for the door knob. “Who’s driving, big brother?”
“You know I am. No one drives my truck but me.”
Morgan Page 7
