Unfortunately, he’d realized belatedly that things weren’t that much better in a big city, especially when he had to fight his own newspaper bureaucracy before getting some of his tougher pieces in print. Chicago had been more of the same, a constant battle between the pressures of the advertising department and editorial independence. Years ago the separation would have been a given, but these days, with tough economic times for newspapers, the suits were having more of an impact on the journalists.
Ford was still finding his way in Winding River, getting to know the movers and shakers, listening to anyone and everyone who had something to say about the way the town was run or the way it ought to be.
Change was on the horizon. The downtown was testament to that. A chic boutique had moved in just down the block from a western wear store. There were Range Rovers parked alongside pickups hauling horse trailers. High-priced gifts were being sold next door to the feed-and-grain store. And fancy corporate jets sat on the airstrip next to crop dusters.
The previous owner of the paper, Ronald Haggerty, had stayed on long enough to introduce Ford around, give him a slap on the back and a hearty recommendation to the various civic organizations. Then he’d retired and moved to Arizona. Ford was on his own now.
He was already beginning to formulate some opinions that he was eager to get into print, but it was too soon. He needed to wait for the right opening, the right story to show everyone that the Winding River News and its new owner intended to participate in every aspect of life in Winding River. A big, splashy, controversial front-page story, that’s what he needed.
So far in life, Ford Hamilton had found the odds were usually in his favor. And if his luck held, he’d have that front-page story very soon.
“Am I really going to learn to ride a horse?” Caitlyn asked for the tenth time as she and Emma made the drive from Denver on Wednesday.
“Grandpa said he’d teach you, didn’t he?”
Emma nodded, curls bouncing. “I am sooo excited. I never rode a horse before.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” Emma said wryly.
“And how many cousins do I have?”
“Five. You met some of them last time we were here.”
“But I was just a baby then. I was only four,” Caitlyn said. “I forgot.”
“Okay, there’s Jessie—”
“How old is Jessie?”
“She’s six, the same as you.”
“Do you think she can ride a horse already?” Caitlyn asked worriedly. “Will she make fun of me?”
“I don’t know if she can ride, but Grandpa won’t let her make fun of you.”
Caitlyn nodded, evidently satisfied. “Who else?”
“There’s Davey, and Rob, and Jeb and Pete.”
“They’re all boys,” she said, clearly disappointed. “And they’re all littler than me, right?”
“That’s right.”
“But me and Jessie will be friends, right?”
“I’m sure you will be,” Emma reassured her. “You had a wonderful time together the last time you were here for a visit. You had tea parties for your dolls and played games with Grandma and baked cookies.”
Caitlyn’s eyes shone with excitement. “How soon will we be there?”
“A half hour, maybe less.”
“What time is that?”
“Twelve-thirty.”
Caitlyn touched a finger to the clock on the dash. “When the big hand is here and the little hand is down here, right?”
“Exactly.”
A worried frown puckered her brow again. “I thought Grandma said we’d have lunch at twelve. Will they eat without us?”
“No, baby, I don’t think they’ll eat without us. I called to let Grandma know we got a late start, remember?”
“’Cause you had to go to the office,” Caitlyn said. “Even though we’re on vacation.”
“That’s it till Monday,” Emma promised.
“Then how come your phone keeps ringing?”
Emma sighed. It kept ringing because she hadn’t cut it off. Getting away from the office was one thing. Deactivating her cell phone was something else entirely. There could be emergencies, questions from her paralegals…all sorts of crises that simply couldn’t wait.
“Don’t worry,” she told her daughter. “It won’t ring all that often. I won’t let it interfere with our plans.”
As if to prove her wrong, the cell phone promptly rang. With an apologetic look at Caitlyn, Emma answered. “Rogers.”
“Is this the famous Denver lawyer who only handles the most challenging cases in the universe?”
Emma grinned. “Lauren? Where are you?”
“I’m sitting at a table with your family, waiting for you to get here. We are growing impatient. I, for one, am starved, and they won’t let me eat till you show your face. Where are you?”
“Just outside of town, about a mile from the ranch now. Tell Mom to put the food on the table and pour the iced tea.”
“Already done. I helped.”
“Was the family impressed that a glamorous actress was fixing lunch?”
Lauren chuckled. “Not that I noticed. Rob has smeared strained peas all over my designer blouse, but he’s only a baby, so I’ve forgiven him.”
“Good thing. I don’t think Rob’s daddy can afford to pay for a replacement. It probably cost more than he makes in a month.”
“Pretty close,” Lauren agreed. “I told him you’d replace it. You can afford it.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that I’m about to turn into the driveway, so I can protect my interests,” Emma said.
Even as she made the turn, she could hear the squeals announcing that the kids had spotted her car. As they neared the house, she glanced over at Caitlyn and saw her eyes widen as all of her cousins except the baby tumbled out of the house, followed by Emma’s younger brothers and their wives, then Lauren—still holding the portable phone—and then her grandparents.
Suddenly shy, Caitlyn held back when her grandmother opened the car door and reached for her. Not permitting even the tiniest hint of the hurt she must have felt, Emma’s mother gently touched Caitlyn’s cheek.
“I am so glad you’ve come to visit,” she said quietly. “Your grandpa and I have missed you.”
“Really?” Caitlyn said, looking surprised.
“You bet. Would you like to come with me to see the surprise he got you? It’s down at the barn.”
Caitlyn turned to Emma. “Can I, Mommy?”
“I thought everybody was anxious to eat,” Emma said, casting a pointed look at Lauren.
“That’s okay. I’m sure I won’t starve,” her friend said with an exaggerated pout.
Emma grinned at her. “Nice acting.” She released Caitlyn’s hand. “Of course you can go.” She glanced at her mother. “What’s the big surprise?”
“You’ll see,” her mother teased. “I’m not giving away a thing.”
As the two of them went off hand in hand, trailed by the cousins, Emma turned to her brothers, who enveloped her in bear hugs even as they chided her for staying away too long.
“Leave her alone,” her sister-in-law Martha said. “She’s here now. That’s what counts. And we’re going to make the most of every minute of it.”
“That we are,” Lauren said, stepping forward for her own hug. “You look tired.”
“It was a long drive.”
“Not that long,” Lauren chided, leading her inside where the dining room table had been set for a celebration, complete with her mom’s best dishes. “And dark circles like that don’t happen overnight. I ought to know. I’m an expert on what lack of sleep can do to a person’s face. Lucky for you, I am also an expert on makeup tricks that will disguise it. By the time we go to the reunion dance on Saturday, you’ll look like a million bucks. Men will fall at your feet.”
“I’m here to see my friends, not to nab a man for myself,” Emma scolded. “Besides, with you around, no one will be looking at me.
”
“Wait till I get through fixing you up,” Lauren retorted. “You can’t take a chance that you’ll bump into the perfect man. You don’t want to scare him to death.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about that. There are very few perfect men in Winding River.” She glanced at her brothers and grinned. “Present company excluded, of course. That was one of the reasons we left, remember?”
“I’m an optimist,” Lauren declared cheerfully. “A lot can change in ten years. For one thing, acne usually clears up.” She poked an elbow into Matt’s ribs. “Right?”
Matt frowned and ignored her.
“Absolutely,” Martha said to cover her husband’s silence. “Not only that, we can even get cappuccino or a latte on Main Street now. Of course, the locals pretty much go to Stella’s the same as always. The gourmet stuff is for the tourists.”
Emma stared at her in surprise. “We have tourists now? What do they come to see?”
“The real west,” her brother Wayne reported dryly. “Of course, while coming to gawk at the genuine article, they can’t do it without a few of the frills from back East, but what the heck, it’s pumping a few dollars into the economy.”
“It’s going to destroy us in the end, you mark my words,” her brother Matt chimed in, his expression dire. “And that new newspaper editor is going to be leading the charge.”
“Ford Hamilton’s not such a bad guy,” Martha chided her husband. “Give him a chance.”
“To do what? Ruin the place with his fancy, big-city ideas?” Matt countered.
“How do you know he has big-city ideas?” Martha demanded. “You won’t even talk to him!”
“He’s from Chicago, isn’t he?” Matt grumbled. “I guarantee you he’s going to be the first one to call for opening up the land to all kinds of greedy developers. We’ll have subdivisions all the way from here to Laramie if we’re not careful.”
Emma’s mother held up her hand. “Okay, Matt, enough. Let your sister at least get something to eat before you start all this doom-and-gloom stuff over the fate of Winding River. That kind of thing is bad for the digestion.”
Nevertheless, over lunch Emma got an earful on the changes in the town in the past few years—none of them good, to hear Matt tell it. She also heard quite a lot about this man, Ford Hamilton, whose first two editions of the paper had been the talk of Winding River.
“Took out the local columns that Ron had been running for years,” Matt groused.
“Everybody around here already knew what everybody else was doing,” Martha argued. “We didn’t need to read about it in the paper.” She regarded her husband defiantly. “Besides, I think he’s gorgeous. It’s about time somebody exciting and available moved into town.”
“Why do you care? You’re married to me,” Matt reminded her.
Martha rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m dead. Besides, a man like Ford Hamilton could be just what it takes to persuade Emma to move back here.”
Emma held up a hand. “Whoa! Don’t even go there. I am not looking for a man and I am not coming back here. Don’t go getting any crazy ideas on that score, Martha—or any of the rest of you, either.”
“Well, we can all dream,” her mother said. “I, for one, think it would be wonderful if you’d at least give the idea some thought.”
“Don’t push the girl,” her father said. “She just walked in the door.”
“Oh, be still. You’re just as anxious to have her back here as I am,” her mother retorted. “That’s what that pony is all about.”
Emma stared at them. “What pony?”
“That was the surprise,” Caitlyn said, her eyes glowing. “Grandpa got me a pony.”
Emma’s father grinned at her. “That was supposed to be a secret till after lunch, cupcake.”
Caitlyn’s face fell. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
“That’s okay, sweetie. Somebody needed to tell me,” Emma said, giving her hand a squeeze, even as she shot a reproachful look at her father.
“You had one when you were her age,” her father pointed out.
“But I lived here,” she retorted, then let the subject drop. She was not going to ruin lunch by getting into an argument at the table.
“Let’s get back to Ford Hamilton,” Martha suggested diplomatically.
“Yes, let’s,” Lauren agreed. “If Emma’s not interested in a gorgeous, available newspaper editor, maybe I’ll check him out.”
“Right,” Wayne scoffed. “As if you’d ever come back here to stay.”
“You never know,” Lauren said so seriously that it drew stares from every adult at the table.
“Lauren?” Emma said, regarding her curiously. This was the first she’d heard of any disenchantment Lauren felt with her glamorous lifestyle.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Lauren said, pushing back from the table. “I’ve got to run. I promised Karen I’d drive over to the ranch this afternoon and help with the horses.”
“Now there’s a picture the tabloids would pay to have,” Emma’s father teased. “Millie, where’s my camera? I could probably make enough from this shot to pay for a couple of new bulls.”
“You don’t want to do that, Dad,” Emma warned. “I’d have to advise Lauren to sue you.”
“As if I could ever sue my favorite surrogate dad,” Lauren said, pressing a kiss to his cheek that made him blush.
He shook his head. “Who knew that one of Emma’s friends would grow up to become one of the most famous beauties in the world? I remember when you wore your hair in pigtails and made mud pies in my backyard.”
“Now that is a picture the tabloids would love,” Wayne said. “And I think I know where one is.”
“In the scrapbook,” Matt said, grinning for the first time since Emma had arrived. “Shall I get it? We can split the profits.”
“You do and you’re a dead man,” Emma warned. “I’m in that picture, too. If Lauren doesn’t kill you, I will.”
She glanced across the table to see tears in her mother’s eyes. “Mom? What’s wrong?”
“I’m just so happy to have all of you around this table again, squabbling the way you used to. You, too, Lauren. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed having my whole family under one roof.”
Guilt spread through Emma. “I’ll get home more often, Mom. I promise.”
“You say that now, but once you’re back in Denver, you’ll be deluged with clients, and the next thing you know another two years will have slipped by.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Emma vowed.
But, of course, it would. She was powerless to stop it. Her career defined her. Being the best and brightest in her class had challenged her to become the best and brightest in the firm. She wanted to be the first lawyer people thought of when there was a high-profile case in Denver. She’d failed at marriage. She was a neglectful, if loving, mom and daughter. But she would be somebody when it came to her profession. Men made sacrifices for their careers all the time, and no one thought any less of them. Why should it be different for a woman? And at least she was setting an example for Caitlyn that a woman could achieve whatever she wanted to in a man’s world.
But at what cost? some would ask. Emma even asked herself that from time to time in the dark of night. So far, though, she hadn’t come up with a satisfactory answer. She wondered if she ever would.
Chapter 2
Ford hadn’t intended to go anywhere near the Winding River High School class reunion. With no other reporter on staff, he’d assigned Teddy Taylor to cover it and given him a camera to take along. Teddy had been ecstatic.
“Be sure you get a few shots of Lauren Winters,” he reminded the teenager. “Everyone’s going to want to see the big celebrity deigning to mingle with the small-town folks.”
Ford’s sarcasm was unmistakable, even to Teddy. The boy had frowned. “I don’t think Lauren’s like that. Uncle Ryan says she’s great. She was the smartest kid in the class. He says she was real
serious back then. Nobody expected her to wind up an actress.”
“Whatever,” Ford said, dismissing the ardent defense. “Just get lots of pictures. You probably know who’s important better than I do.”
“I hope so. I got a list from Uncle Ryan. He knows everybody. There’s a lady named Gina who has one of the hottest restaurants in New York—”
“Gina Petrillo?” Ford asked, startled. “Owns a place called Café Tuscany?”
Teddy glanced at his notes, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. You’ve heard of it?”
“I’ve eaten there,” he said. The editors of a New York paper had taken him there when they’d been courting him, trying to steal him away from an investigative team in Chicago. He’d been impressed by the food and the ambience, if not by the New Yorkers’ pitch. The owner’s name had stuck with him, though he’d only caught a glimpse of her as she rushed from the kitchen to greet favored guests. Discovering that Gina Petrillo came from Winding River was a surprise.
“And there’s someone named Emma, who’s some kind of courtroom barracuda in Denver now,” Teddy had continued. “And Cole Davis, the big computer-programming genius—well, he wasn’t in the class, but his girlfriend was. Uncle Ryan says he’ll probably be there even though he’s a couple of years older. Everybody’s turning out because it’s such a big deal for the town that Lauren’s coming.”
Ford had been even more startled by the complete litany of success stories. Even though he’d come from a small town himself, he’d always felt that the odds of success were stacked against him. To find so many high achievers coming out of one small class in Winding River—okay, two classes, if Cole Davis had been a year or two ahead of the others—was intriguing.
The more he’d thought about it, the more convinced he’d become that there was a story there. Who or what had motivated these four people to work so hard? Was it a teacher? A parent? A community-wide commitment to education? Their stories could well provide motivation for the current crop of students.
The Calamity Janes Page 2
