by Sarah Smith
“I might just do that,” he called back to her as he sauntered away, heading for his truck.
Mia watched him walk away, enjoying the sight of a man in a well-fitting pair of jeans. She thought of George Strait in his younger days, and the comparison was a good one. After he’d climbed in his truck, she realized she hadn’t told him her name, nor had she gotten his. She put the car in drive and pulled forward so she was even with his truck.
“I’m Mia!” she called through her open passenger window. With a wave and no words, the good-looking man pulled away from the shoulder and drove in the direction he had told her to go. She had no idea if he’d heard her name since he hadn’t replied with his. Frowning, she followed his truck for the five miles. When they reached the T, he turned right. She watched until his tail lights faded before taking the turn to the left.
The man had been stingy with his words but easy with his smile. Plus, he was so good-looking she didn’t mind he was quiet. Driving slowly just in case another deer was on a suicidal mission, Mia had time to reflect and hope that the man would meet her tomorrow night. Maybe she could charm him into telling his story.
As she drove through the small town, she wondered exactly where she would take him to dinner, should he bother to show up the next day. A donut shop, a Subway, and what looked like a dive bar that may or may not serve food were the only places she saw for eating out. She glanced down the side roads as she drove. One stretch had a series of buildings that Mia assumed made up the downtown area of this tiny little town. A café of some sort might reside in one of those buildings.
Just past the only traffic light in the town, the hotel squatted on an empty parking lot covered in potholes. Mia turned into the drive and allowed her car to creep into a parking space. Frowning, she wondered if this was the hotel the ranch hand had meant for her to go to. But she’d seen nothing past this building. “Hotel” was a glorious name for this inglorious little hovel.
Mia had never been to Europe, but she imagined the places called hostels looked much like the building in front of her. IT was one story and spread out over the parking lot like a lost sock, dingy and dirty. The doors to the rooms opened on the parking lot, which Mia did not think was safe in the least. She imagined dirty carpets, dingy showers, and a crusty comforter on a lumpy mattress.
Mia griped under her breath as she walked to the office to reserve a room, hitting the key fob to lock her car. If she was going to be here for more than one more night, she would have to find better accommodations. Hopefully, Maclancy would give her what she needed tomorrow so she could drive home tomorrow night. She was tempted to text pictures of the place to Hal with the missive that she deserved hazard pay. But Hal would just laugh and tell her there’s nothing like roughing it. Quitting didn’t seem like a bad idea when she thought about it.
Inside, the office was spotless and smelled of the strawberry plug-in Mia spied the moment she stepped inside. A bell waited for her to ring it on the check-in desk, but a clerk appeared from out of nowhere before she could hit it with her palm. Mia jumped back, surprised by the suddenness of the clerk’s appearance.
“Hey, there,” the woman said, a smile on her face. Her teeth were slightly yellowed and her voice was harsh from years of smoking. Her face was so lined, Mia wasn’t sure of her age, and her body was much rounder than it was supposed to be. However, her friendly demeanor and quick smile eased some of Mia’s anxiety about the place.
“Hi. Do you have a room available? I didn’t make reservations,” Mia explained.
The woman chuckled. “Of course I have a room. Not too many people stay here, considering there’s not much to do around here unless you’re a cow. How long will you be staying, honey?”
Mia laughed at the woman’s joke, although she would bet it wasn’t really a joke. “I need it for tonight and tomorrow. Maybe longer, but I’m not sure. Honestly, if I can get my business done tomorrow, I’ll go home tomorrow.”
“I understand, sweetie.” While the woman put in the password to open her computer, she continued. “I’m Billie, by the way. Owner and operator. So if you need something, I’m here.”
“Do you live here?” Mia asked.
“I do. Moved into the biggest, nicest room in the building when I bought it. Course, I had to remodel just about every room if I wanted to make any money.” She smiled up at Mia and pointed at her. “You know, considering the fact that there’s not much to do here, I have a lot of customers. Especially during basketball season.”
“Basketball season? Why?” Mia asked. Her curiosity made her a good reporter; she liked stories, all kinds of stories, and magic usually happened when she wrote them down. She leaned on the counter as she listened.
“Why, our Tigers were the state champs three years running! Last year we got beat out in the state championship. Lost by four points,” Billie said sadly, shaking her head. “Horrible loss for our boys.”
“I’m sure,” Mia commiserated. She dug in her wallet for her credit card to pay for the room.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Mia Mellis.” She spelled both names for Billie, explaining, “No one ever spells my name right, so I just jump in and spell it.”
Billie nodded as she typed. “It’s easier that way sometimes.” She looked back up at her. “How would you like to pay?”
Mia handed her the credit card. “Is there a kitchen here? I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Kitchen’s already closed for the evening, but I can bring you something from my personal kitchen if you’d like,” Billie offered as she ran the credit card through the machine. “This’ll take just a minute. Machine runs slow.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Billie,” Mia said with a wave of her hand. “I’ll run over to the Subway and grab a sandwich.”
“If you’re sure, sweetie,” Billie answered as she handed Mia the slip to sign. “I made a big ol’ pot of chicken noodle soup. I sure don’t mind dipping some up for you.”
Mia reconsidered. “That does sound really good. If you don’t mind… ”
“Heck, no!” Billie chortled as she lifted her large body off the stool and handed Mia a key. “You’re going to be in room four. You can park in the space right in front of the room. Go on and unload your things, and I’ll bring your soup over in a few minutes.”
“Thanks so much, Billie,” Mia gushed, briefly clasping the woman’s hand. She was a bright spot in a day that had been kind of yucky.
Mia turned and walked out of the office. She moved her car to the space in front of room four and took her things inside, hoping the room was as clean as the office had been. She was not disappointed.
The room, like the office, was spotless and smelled of freshly laundered bedding. The carpet was new, as were the freshly painted walls and, from what Mia could tell, the paintings on the walls. However, the room was tiny and contained very little furnishing. The bed was a double rather than the king she was used to at home. An uncomfortable looking chair sat in the corner, and the room didn’t have a desk. A small chest of drawers was against the wall near the foot of the bed and held a small television that did, she read on the remote, have the basic cable channels like all hotels.
She’d also forgotten to ask about Wi-Fi. An intranet cable attached to the wall next to the chair led her to believe they didn’t have Wi-Fi. Just great, she thought. She prayed the internet was fast. If she heard the telltale signs of a modem dialing up, Hal would get a phone call. And he would hear about when she got back. And possibly every day for the rest of his life.
After opening the drawers in the chest, she decided against unpacking anything besides the clothes that would hang in the closet. The drawers weren’t dirty, per se, but they sure weren’t as clean as she preferred for a drawer to be that held her underwear. She pulled out the rest of her clothes and hung them up in the closet, thanking God there were hangers.
When Billie’s knock sounded quietly on the door, Mia’s stomach growled as if it knew what was on t
he other side of that door. She hurried to open it and smiled at Billie.
“Here you go, sweetie.” Billie blustered in with a tray with a large bowl that had a lid on it, a spoon, a bottle of water, and another covered dish, and Mia’s stomach growled again. With a chuckle, Billie said, “Sounds like I’m just in time.”
“Yes. I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m starved!”
“This chicken noodle soup is hearty, I promise you that. You’ll be full when you’re finished. I also brought you something sweet for after.” Billie lifted the cover off a dessert plate, revealing a large slab of chocolate cake. “Hope you like cake!”
“I love cake!” Mia exclaimed. “Thank you so much. You have really made my day!”
“You are more than welcome, sweetie,” Billie told her. “I’ll just leave you to it then.”
“Oh, before you go, do you have Wi-Fi here?”
Billie shook her head, her lips pressed together in an apologetic look. “No, honey, I’m sorry. But you can plug in over there. I’m told it works fast.”
“You don’t use the internet?” Mia asked, shocked.
“Only when I have to, honey,” Billie told her. She patted her cheek. “Eat that dinner before you go to bed. Nobody sleeps well on an empty stomach.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you and good night,” Mia said with a smile.
“Good night,” Billie answered as she bustled out of the room and closed the door behind her. Mia locked it, then hurried to her dinner.
After eating while watching a sitcom rerun, she decided on a shower. The shower head spewed hot water out in a massaging spray, and she felt the irritations of the day melting away and going down the drain. Relaxed and warm, she slipped on her sleeping shirt and shorts, climbed into the surprisingly comfortable bed, and fell instantly asleep.
CHAPTER THREE
Mia woke up surprisingly refreshed. The bed was incredibly comfortable, and she’d drifted to sleep quickly after laying down. She took another shower under the powerful shower head, letting the water wash away the nervousness that was edging its way into her stomach and mind. She chastised herself: You’ve interviewed much bigger celebrities! No nerves are necessary!
But, she reminded herself, all those people had wanted to be interviewed or had at least been interested in the publicity. This man, Brock Maclancy, was completely uninterested in speaking with her or any other reporter. He had no need for publicity: he wasn’t a celebrity whose career thrived on public acknowledgement. He was a rancher with old-school values, even though he was only in his early thirties.
As she dried her body, she recounted the research she’d conducted so she would be somewhat well-informed before the interview. The Maclancy family had migrated here from Ireland in the late 1800s, just after the Civil War, when land had been selling cheaply in the south. Brock’s ancestor, his father’s great grandfather, had bought two-thousand acres for next to nothing, and the family had slowly built the ranching empire that had grown to hundreds of thousands of acres that Brock now controlled. The ranch and its subsidiaries were worth billions, making Brock on of the richest ranchers in the country.
However, she’d been able to find any personal information about the elusive Brock Maclancy. He’d refused interviews with their magazine in the past or had given very little information. She had no idea what had convinced the man to be interviewed by her, and she was terrified he’d give her next to nothing and send her back to Dallas.
With a sigh, Mia chose her outfit for the day carefully: a pair of black slacks, ballet flats, and a bright pink, button-up blouse. Professional but comfortable, and hopefully, appropriate for the ranch. She assumed she’d be in his home office conducting the interview, but in this outfit, she’d be able to walk around the ranch should he wish to give her a tour, where she’d hopefully find some opportunities for pictures.
As she dug around for her shoes, she saw the cowboy boots she’d brought and debated putting them on. Professional attire or cowgirl getup? She decided to stay in her professional attire. She could bring the boots and jeans with her, just in case he offered a more extensive tour of the ranch.
After putting her laptop, wallet, and keys in her laptop bag, she locked the hotel room door behind her and headed for the front desk. She hoped Billie was there so she could ask her a couple questions about Brock. One way to get to know a person was to talk to those who knew him, including his friends, family, and acquaintances. Of course, that was based on the assumption that the person had friends or acquaintances. He had family, but they were as closed-mouthed as he was, rarely speaking to the press.
Frustrated with the lack of information, she put her bag in the car and locked it before heading to the office to find Billie. Immediately, though, she turned back because she’d left her iPad on the charger in the room and she took the majority of her notes on it.
Once she reached the office, she found Billie reading a novel and eating sausage links off a dessert plate. Mia sniffed the air, inhaling the delicious scent of coffee, and felt a small tug in her empty belly. Billie glanced up at the noise of the door opening and smiled broadly as Mia stepped in.
“Good morning, sweetie,” Billie welcomed. She rose from her place behind the desk to speak to her.
“Hi, Billie. How are you this morning?”
“Doing good, doing good,” the woman answered as she leaned over the desk to chat with Mia. “How about you? Did you rest good?”
“The bed was very comfortable!” Mia responded enthusiastically. “And that shower head is what dreams are made of!”
Billie chuckled. “Yes, the remodeling was the best thing that happened to this old place.” She looked around lovingly before returning her attention to Mia. “I don’t have any breakfast to offer, sweetie, but the café just down the street has the best dang pancakes you’ll ever eat.”
“Awesome! I’ll head down there,” Mia told her. She lifted her iPad and opened it. “Could you give me directions to the Maclancy ranch, please?”
“Oh sure thing, honey.” After a full minute of very detailed directions, Billie asked, “Why you heading out that way?”
“I’m a reporter. I’ve been assigned to do a story about Brock Maclancy,” Mia replied. “Do you know him?”
“Know him? Honey, it’s thanks to him that these improvements on the hotel could even happen!” Billie chortled. “He donated a ton of money to revamp the entire downtown area, and when he found out I owned this place, he offered to pay for the improvements. But I told him no sir! So we agreed on a loan instead.”
“A philanthropist, huh?” Mia mused as she typed on her iPad.
“You bet! He loves this town and its folks, wants good things to happen,” Billie assured her.
“Is he on the school board or city council or anything like that?”
“Oh heavens, no! He doesn’t have time for that stuff,” Billie scoffed. “Too busy out there on that ranch of his.”
“Does he work the land and cattle himself? Or does he pay men to do it for him?” Mia asked, her curiosity piqued by this strange, secretive man.
“He works it himself. Of course, he hires workers and such, but he’s out there with the men working just as hard and long as they do,” Billie informed her.
Mia smiled at the woman. “So you’ve known him a long time?”
“His father and I went to high school together,” Billie said with a smile. “He was a handsome son of a gun, just like his son is.” She giggled like a school girl and waved her hand. “Anyway, you’ll like him. He’s a good man.”
“Thanks, Billie. I’ll see you sometime this evening, if I can find my way back,” Mia joked as she pushed the door open and headed across the street.
The short jaunt to the street that led downtown took Mia about five minutes. At the last minute, she had remembered her camera and had run back to her car to grab it. She noted that several buildings had the Maclancy name embossed on the signs or doors, and she wondered what kind of landlord he
might be.
The café did not appear to be owned by him, but then again, looks were sometimes deceiving. She stepped inside and felt like she had stepped into another world, one where only purple and gold existed. The tables were all square with clear plastic covers over either dark purple or yellow gold table cloths. The chairs were straight-backed with cushions for comfort. The walls were strewn with purple and gold decorations, such as a flag with the town’s name on it or what Mia assumed was the school mascot, as well as pictures of students spanning decades in various sports outfits or FFA jackets.
The down-home smell of country cooking teased her senses. About half the tables were occupied, and every person in the room looked her over before returning to their eating companions and their plates. A small woman hurried forward.
“Hey, sugar. You wanna a table?” Her voice was so Southern and sweet, sugar nearly dripped out of her mouth.
Mia smiled. “I’d love a table.” She followed the little woman to a table and sat.
“You eatin’ alone, sugar?” the woman asked as she handed her a menu.
“I am. I’m just visiting for a couple of days and wanted to taste the local fare,” Mia replied. “You know, you remind me of my aunt.”
The woman, probably only five foot, had bleached blonde hair and a smile that didn’t seem to fall of her face. She spoke loudly for such a small person, which would surprise someone who didn’t know her, as it had Mia. She wore a basketball t-shirt from the high school with jeans and white sneakers.
“Is that right?” The woman asked. Mia nodded, and the woman giggled. “Well, I hope that’s a compliment, sugar.”
“Oh it is! She was my favorite aunt,” Mia assured her. “Her name was Mara.”
“Well, I’m Laura, which rhymes!” The pair of women chuckled. “So what are you in town for, sugar?”
“I’m Mia, and I’m here to visit with Brock Maclancy,” Mia said as she perused the menu. She wanted some of everything!
