It's In His Smile (A Red River Valley Novel Book 3)

by Shelly Alexander

  “You knew how hard it was for me to accept your help. For me to depend on you. And you slept with me under false pretenses.”

  “It wasn’t false—”

  “I mean it’s my own fault.” She blew out a gust of laugher that rang hollow. “I knew better, and I let it happen anyway.” The sting of tears welled up in her eyes. She was all used up and felt empty, like she had nothing left to give.

  She took another step back.

  “Don’t go.” Talmadge held out a hand. “Not yet. I do plan to donate the money for a rec center. Trinity Falls might pan out after all, and I won’t need the money anymore.”

  Her jaw fell open. “Gee, Talmadge. I feel so much better now.” The sting of tears turned to a burn.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everything I say to you comes out wrong.”

  “Well, maybe that’s because everything you say is a lie.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s not. You said you love me, so let’s work this out. I made a mistake. One I regret wholeheartedly. I don’t want it to end like this. I care too much about you.” He closed the distance between them in two long strides and ran a hand down her arm.

  She jerked it away. “I’ve seen how you care about people. I was the one sitting with your lonely grandmother while you were off playing big boy Legos with movie stars and rich hotel chain owners.” Not to mention their daughters.

  That hit home, because he flinched.

  “Well, guess what?” She took several steps back. “I’ve got a life to live, Talmadge. And I’ve earned the right to live it. Without anyone else’s approval.” She swallowed, because suddenly it felt like her world was caving in. She wasn’t going to let it. “And without you. You’ve fulfilled your commitment. The inspections should be complete by now. The gazebo is all but done. You can go back to your life and take your money with you.”

  Miranda wished she could say “no hard feelings,” but that would’ve been the biggest lie of all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When Talmadge finished giving his crew of volunteers the final instructions for the gazebo and went back to the inn, Miranda had locked him out, removed the hidden key from out front, and given Jamie and Langston instructions to not let him in no matter what.

  “Dude, give her some time to cool off,” Langston said. “She was crying pretty hard.”

  The look of admiration Jamie usually gave him was gone, and Talmadge couldn’t blame him.

  Talmadge stared at the inn, looked up at the window of the honeymoon suite. Finally he nodded. “Call me if she’s not okay.”

  “She’s already not okay.” Jamie gave Talmadge an angry look.

  “Then will you call me if she needs anything?” Talmadge scrubbed a hand over his face, happy that Jamie wasn’t a big kid. If he had been, Talmadge’s ass would’ve already been kicked halfway to Seattle. And Talmadge wouldn’t have tried to stop him.

  He went back to Bea’s, and after leaving about a thousand messages on Miranda’s cell, he sat in front of his laptop to check e-mails. His inbox was flooded. His investors wanted to know when he was arriving, because the tribal meeting was in a few days.

  Going back for that meeting would mean breaking his promise to Miranda to stay until the gazebo was unveiled, the festival was over, and the inn was open for business. Even if she never wanted to see him again, he never left his projects unfinished, which was one of the reasons he wanted to get back to Trinity Falls, because it sure as hell wasn’t about his fortune anymore. It was about his commitment.

  Screw the money.

  The only thing he wanted was Miranda in his life, because she was his life. Unfortunately, she may not want him to be part of her life anymore.

  He picked up his phone and dialed Angelique’s number.

  “Law offices.” Her voice commanded strength. He marveled at how that same strength had started to resonate in Miranda’s voice lately as she’d grown into the woman she was always meant to be.

  “It’s Talmadge Oaks.”

  “Talmadge. How are you?”

  “Listen, I’m not going to be able to fulfill the terms of Bea’s will.”

  She went silent for a beat. “I thought the inn was almost finished.”

  “It is.” He left it at that.

  Two silent beats this time. “You do realize this means the money will revert to the next beneficiary, which is the city of Red River.”

  “I do know that. For a rec center. Frankly, I can’t think of a better use for it.” Tension released from his chest as he said it, because he knew it was right. “I’ve broken the terms of Bea’s will. I told Miranda about the money, so it’s done.”

  “Okay then. The money will go into a trust until the city can start the center. These things take time. There are bids and designs and approvals and permits before they can even break ground. You better than anyone know the drill.”

  He sure did.

  After they hung up, he made his travel arrangements and went to pack his suitcase.

  Several more unreturned phone calls and unanswered knocks on the inn’s door later, Talmadge sat in a back booth at Joe’s. Uncle Joe had asked him to come by for dinner for a chat with him and Sheriff Lawson.

  Huh.

  This couldn’t be good. The last time Uncle Joe and Sheriff Lawson had wanted a chat with him was so the sheriff could question Talmadge after Cotton Eyed Joe’s old building had burned to the ground, the night he’d graduated from high school, and suspicion fell on one of his high school buddies.

  Talmadge couldn’t eat. He pushed the food around on his plate without taking a bite.

  A booming voice sounded at the front of the restaurant, and Talmadge glanced over his shoulder. Joe greeted Sheriff Lawson with a handshake and a bear hug. Funny to watch two large, intimidating men hug each other. It’s what Talmadge had always loved about his uncle. His heart was as big as his girth, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. Same as Bea. And that made Talmadge’s heart ache all the more, because he’d run from Red River and his problems. Repaid his grandparents’ love and support by running away instead of standing fast and being there for them the way they’d been there for him.

  Joe pointed in Talmadge’s direction, and the two formidable figures lumbered over. Joe had an iPad in his hand. Talmadge’s stomach did a flip, instinct gnawing at his insides.

  “Talmadge.” Sheriff Lawson greeted him and slid into the opposite seat. Uncle Joe took the seat next to Talmadge, and he scooted against the wall. The two boxed him in.

  “What’s this about?” Talmadge blurted. He was already under enough pressure with the mess back in Washington, and because Miranda had made it clear she didn’t want him around anymore. Might as well get this over with as quickly as possible, because he couldn’t take much more.

  “Have you seen the latest post in that smut column?” Uncle Joe said.

  Talmadge shook his head. “I’ve had a lot going on. Haven’t kept up with the rumor mill.”

  Uncle Joe flipped the cover off his iPad and brought up the Red River Rag. He laid it in front of Talmadge. “I’d know that spot in the cemetery in any picture. You were at your momma and daddy’s grave.”

  Talmadge’s brows drew together. Why was visiting his parents’ grave important enough to call a meeting with the sheriff? His irritation level spiked. His parents weren’t a topic he liked to discuss with anyone, and today the subject had already run its course.

  “You know your grandma and I were close. She was like a second mom to me,” Joe said. “Just like she was to you.”

  Talmadge scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Look, this subject doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy, so can we get to the point?”

  “Bea told me that she suspected you blamed yourself for your parents’ accident.”

  Talmadge’s spine went stiff. How did she know? He’d never admitted it to anyone. “Why did she think that?”

  Joe gave his head a shake, a smile of admiration on his lips. “She was one shar
p cookie and good at reading people. I guess she had her reasons.”

  “When your uncle here saw this picture”—Sheriff Lawson pointed to the iPad—“he asked me to speak to you.” The sheriff lowered his voice so no one could hear. “Son, I’m about to tell you something that we’ve managed to keep a secret since the accident. I’ve always followed the letter of the law, but I made an exception for Bea and your uncle that one time.”

  “Get to it, gentlemen.” Talmadge’s voice had dropped to a low simmer.

  Sheriff Lawson looked around like he was afraid someone else might hear. Then he leaned in. “Your dad had five times the legal amount of alcohol in his system when the accident happened.”

  Talmadge was stunned. He’d known his dad drank too much, but he had no idea his dad was that drunk the day he and his mom died. Since the day it happened, Talmadge thought the accident was because his dad was angry over Talmadge striking out and losing the game.

  Joe scratched his temple and shook his head. “Bea had nightmares for years about you being in the car with them that day.”

  “She did?” Talmadge never knew. But that was Bea, always trying to protect him.

  “Yep, she did. And she was always torn about telling you the truth about your dad’s alcohol level. She wasn’t sure if it would alleviate your misplaced guilt, or make you more resentful toward him.”

  “When I saw the photo,” Joe said, “I knew it was time for you to know the truth.”

  Talmadge leaned back against the booth with a thud. He’d carried the burden of the accident on his shoulders long enough. The painfulness of the memories had eased since he’d been spending so much time with Miranda, but all of a sudden, being back in Red River didn’t seem in the least bit suffocating anymore.

  Too bad he still had to leave. He would fly to Seattle, make the pitch, and hop the next plane back to New Mexico.

  But not before beating down Miranda’s door and begging her to forgive him first.

  Miranda waited down the street until Talmadge’s truck pulled away. Then she parked behind Al’s Plumbing and Septic Removal and walked to Joe’s to meet Lorenda for dinner, and hopefully get her mind off Talmadge for a while. Jamie walked past with a tray of food and winked at her. “Lorenda’s in the back corner.”

  Before Miranda could ask him why he was waiting tables instead of washing dishes, a table of patrons called her name. Then another. Everyone at Joe’s congratulated her on the festival, said they couldn’t wait, told her she was doing a great job, they were proud of her, she was going to be a fine business owner. They didn’t just look at her as the best damn waitress in town. Respect showed in their expressions and their greetings and their handshakes.

  And no matter how much her heart ached because of Talmadge’s betrayal, Miranda knew she’d be just fine on her own. Somehow. Sure, her heart thudded in a sick rhythm because of losing the man she’d loved for seven years. Seven years, four months, and eighteen days. But she’d move on. Move forward.

  Even if she doubted she’d ever love anyone as much as she loved Talmadge. And she’d never settle for less.

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Lorenda said as Miranda slid into the opposite side of the booth. Her BFF tried to sound cheery. “Everything set and ready?”

  “Sure.” Miranda wrinkled her nose. “Ready.” Except her heart was going to explode all over Joe’s.

  Lorenda handed over her phone, the Red River Rag pulled up on the screen.

  Is it over for Red River’s favorite lovebirds? Or does their relationship have one foot in the grave? Arguing in a cemetery can’t be a good sign. Under the caption was a picture of Miranda backing away from Talmadge, his parents’ grave markers in the background.

  “I only read this thing for laughs, but is there any truth to this?” Lorenda asked.

  Of course it was over. How could it be anything but over? “So over.”

  “Are you okay?” Lorenda gave her an affectionate smile.

  “Do I look okay?” Miranda raised a brow.

  “Actually, you do. That’s what has me worried. My guess is you’re putting on a brave front, but inside you’re not as okay as you want everyone to think.”

  Lorenda knew her so well.

  Jamie came over and pulled out a pen and paper. “I’m your waiter. I got a promotion from washing dishes, so the tips will help with tuition next fall.” He smiled at her, proud of himself. It gave her heart a little tug, and she realized how she’d been hanging on, not wanting him to face the painfulness of real life the way she had. But he wanted to grow up, and she needed to let him.

  “Congratulations, little bro.”

  Lorenda ordered, then Miranda rattled off an order a mile long.

  “Stress eating?” Jamie teased her.

  “Yep,” she said. “And don’t pretend to write all that down. I know you have a memory like an elephant.”

  He flashed a brilliant smile at her. “I can remember every order in the room. Just like you.” He slapped the order pad against his palm. “The pen and paper is just for show. I’ll get your drinks.” He walked to the bar, but not without taking orders from two more tables without writing a single thing down.

  Clydelle and Francine waddled over. Clydelle leaned on her cane. “Instead of sittin’ around here, you should be huntin’ down your man,” she said to Miranda. “He needs a shoulder to lean on right now.”

  He needs a shoulder? With her phone under the table so Clydelle and Francine couldn’t see it, Miranda typed a text message to Lorenda.

  Plz make it stop.

  When Lorenda’s phone dinged, she read the text and gave Miranda a helpless look.

  Francine clutched her enormous purse that looked as though she carried half of Fort Knox in it. “Maybe gussy yourself up. Wear something sexy to cheer him up. Used to work for my Henry until . . .” Francine blushed through the layers of wrinkles. “Well, Henry died with nothing but his boots and a smile on. He might’ve lived a few more years if I hadn’t ordered that new outfit from Frederick’s.”

  Was it Miranda’s imagination or did an eighty-five-year-old woman just tell her that her elderly husband died because of kinky sex?

  She fired another message off to Lorenda.

  I’ll give you a kidney if you make it stop.

  Lorenda read the text and snorted, then cleared her throat and smiled up at the two old women. They eyed Lorenda and Miranda suspiciously.

  “We’re just saying,” Clydelle said, “that man of yours is a hunk.” She looked off into space as though she were fantasizing.

  Miranda shot a glare at her BFF. Lorenda chuckled, eased her phone under the table, and sent her a text.

  Every gal for herself.

  Miranda narrowed her eyes at Lorenda, who smirked, clearly enjoying the show.

  “Don’t let go of him so easy,” Francine said. “Try more makeup, and maybe order something from Frederick’s, only stay away from the pasties and anything in black leather.” She tapped her chin. “You never know if there might be a genetic heart problem that runs in the family.” She shook her head thoughtfully.

  “Um, okay. Thanks for the tip.” Under the table she fired off another text to Lorenda.

  Can we go home now so I can cry?

  “You’re welcome.” Clydelle looked completely satisfied with herself until she turned a scolding tone on Lorenda. “When are you gonna find a man? You’re too pretty to sit around this town growing old alone. What’s wrong with you? You got a third nipple or something?”

  Lorenda sputtered, and Miranda typed another text.

  I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing about your third nipple.

  Lorenda tried to keep a pleasant look on her beet-red face while she glanced at her phone under the table and typed back.

  I do not have a third nipple!!!!!!!

  Miranda typed back while Clydelle and Francine gave Lorenda pointers on how to snag a man.

  Now you do.

  The way gossip flowed in this town, by tom
orrow Lorenda would have to strip naked in the town square to prove that she didn’t.

  Lorenda said something incoherent to Clydelle while typing at the same time.

  Help!!!!!

  Miranda smirked and typed.

  What happened to every gal for herself? You’re on your own. I’m going to the john.

  Miranda slid from her seat, ignoring Lorenda’s explosive glare. But before she could excuse herself, Clydelle’s cane slipped, and she tumbled into Francine, whose purse flew out of her hand, the contents scattering across the floor at Miranda’s feet.

  The four of them froze, because one of the items protruding from Francine’s purse was the tip of a very large, very heavy telephoto lens.

  Miranda’s head shot up, eyes narrowing at Francine. “It’s you.”

  “You two should be ashamed,” said Lorenda.

  At least Francine looked contrite. “I admit to nothing.”

  “Really?” Miranda’s hands went to her hips. “Then how about I announce this little discovery to everyone here?”

  “I like to take wildlife photographs,” Francine said.

  “And I like to write about them,” Clydelle countered.

  “So you took the pictures,” Lorenda said to Francine before turning her glare on Clydelle, “and you wrote the posts.”

  Miranda stooped to stuff the evidence back into Francine’s purse along with a tube of lipstick, a bottle of geriatric vitamins, and a . . . bottle of lubricant? She almost threw up in her mouth.

  She stood and handed the purse back to Francine. “If you don’t shut that blog down immediately, I’m going to tell everyone in this town what you’ve done, and you’ll never get a ride in the senior center van again.”

  “Dear, the senior center van driver showed us how to use Tumblr.” Clydelle looked proud of herself.

  “Then I’ll tell the fire department to wash the truck during your weekly pinochle game so you can’t watch. Especially on a hot day.” Miranda put both hands on her hips.