Zoey Phillips

by Judith Bowen

  “I feel sorry for Ryan,” Mary Ellen said softly. That was one of the things Zoey loved about her friend—she was so loyal. So caring, so sensitive.

  Zoey examined her own feelings for Ryan. She’d been thrilled when they’d met, no question. Even after ten years, her pulse had ricocheted all over the place. He’d called her gorgeous! Of course, he’d always been a flirt. Still, maybe now that Adele was definitely out of the picture…

  Zoey was happy with her situation but she wanted a partner in life, children one day. Back when she was twenty, she used to tell Charlotte and Lydia that if she hadn’t met anyone she felt strongly about by the time she was twenty-eight, she’d start looking. Well, she was nearly twenty-eight….

  “Forget the Donnellys! Let’s talk about Edith and the wedding,” Zoey said suddenly, picking up the menu Mary Ellen had put down. “You’re right, Lizzie, this place sounds more complicated than a soap opera.”

  “It can be,” Elizabeth said serenely. “If you believe half of what you hear, and I do. Just ’cause we’re small town doesn’t mean we’re boring. Hand over that menu, Zoe. You two feel like dessert?”

  TWO DAYS LATER, Zoey was sitting at the beat-up fake mahogany desk beside the window in her hotel room, trying to decipher a particularly bad patch of her author’s handwriting. Despite making a ton of money, Jamie Chinchilla was cheap and persisted on writing down the margins of her badly typed manuscript and occasionally on both sides of the paper. Sometimes Zoey wanted to scream. She was glad she was paid top dollar to wrestle each manuscript into shape before it went to New York.

  The hotel had told her she’d have to be out the following afternoon. She’d given up trying to find a decent place on such short notice and had reluctantly decided she’d have to accept Elizabeth’s offer of her guest room, for now. Edith and Mary Ellen had no extra room and the two motels in town were totally unsuitable. Arthur had said he’d put out the word with his business associates. Someone was bound to know of a cottage or a short-term apartment rental. Four weeks, that was all she needed until the wedding.

  A rap at the door had her sitting up straight. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She waited until the polite rap sounded a second time, then put down her pen.

  “Hello?”

  Cameron Donnelly stood in the hall, a look of un-ease on his face, his hat in his hand. “Hello, ma’am. I’d like to see you for a few moments. May I come in?”

  “Come in?” Zoey echoed like a speech-impaired parrot. She opened the door a bit wider. “Why, certainly. Come in and sit down.” She hoped she sounded gracious. What she felt was surprised. Cameron Donnelly stepped forward and she shut the door behind him.

  Omigod, the place was a disaster. For company, anyway. She’d made the bed, in a fashion, but she had the manuscript spread all over the bedspread and desk, damp panty hose hanging from the old-fashioned radiator by the other window, a half-eaten bag of Fritos open by the phone and she was dressed—just barely—in her favorite working costume of tights and a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey. Her hair was a mess.

  “I won’t take up much of your time, Miss Phillips.”

  He was so proper and old-fashioned it hurt. “Please call me Zoey,” she invited. “It’s my name.” He cracked a smile. “Zoey, ma’am. I won’t stay long but I do have something I’d like to put to you.”

  “Sit down, please!” She cleared a cardigan sweater off the back of the loveseat that, together with the upholstered chair and low scratched coffee table, formed the sitting area to one side of the room. Nothing disguised the size of the bed, though, or the mirror on the ceiling.

  He sat down on the loveseat. She whipped a magazine off the seat of the chair opposite him and sat down, too. What in the world could this be about? She’d met him once, danced with him for one short dance and they’d exchanged about seven words.

  He looked around the room silently for what seemed like ages. “So this is the honeymoon suite.”

  “Yes. It’s all they had available.” She cleared her throat.

  “I see.” Cameron looked around again, and this time Zoey noted that he’d spotted the mirror on the ceiling. He studied it, then glanced at her. She felt the heat rise in her face. “I, uh, I’ve never been in one quite like this,” he said finally.

  “Me, neither!” It was an icebreaker. “In fact, I’ve never been in one at all.” Time to change the subject. “How are things at the ranch?”

  “Fine.”

  “Your daughter? Melissa? She’s all right?”

  “Oh, yes. She’s in kindergarten this year.” He nodded slowly, the proud daddy trying not to show any emotion. Zoey felt her heart squeeze. She was dying to ask about Melissa’s mother but didn’t dare; she was hardly on personal enquiry terms with him.

  “Ryan?”

  “He’s okay.” Cameron met her eyes and took a deep breath. “I, uh, wondered if you’d had any luck finding a place to stay? Arthur mentioned that you’re looking.”

  Zoey felt a surge of relief. That was all! “Well, no, I haven’t. I checked out a couple of bungalow rentals, but they were quite dreadful. The motel at the edge of town has a room, but I can’t say I’m crazy about it, either. The ceiling has cracks and there were bugs in the bathroom. The other motel was—yuck!”

  She shuddered dramatically, remembering the horror of finding half a dozen beetles scrabbling about the corners of the shower stall.

  He looked skeptical. “That bad?”

  “Really!” She paused, then added, “I might stay with the Nugents for a few days until something turns up.”

  “I see,” Cameron said thoughtfully.

  “I’m just wondering why—you know, why you ask?” Zoey said, leaning forward. Did he know of a rental? If he did, couldn’t he simply come to the point?

  “I can suggest a place,” he said, appearing more ill at ease than ever.

  “You can? Why—why, that’s wonderful! I’d be prepared to pay any—”

  “Never mind rent,” he said gruffly. “This is free, if you want it—”

  “Oh, I couldn’t!”

  “Wait until you hear what I have to say. You might not be so interested.”

  Zoey stared at the man sitting across from her. He was certainly attractive, in a rough, outdoorsy kind of way. It was just that next to his brother he’d seemed rather…ordinary. Unexeptional. He had nice eyes, a sort of warm hazel, and thick, dark hair. Good teeth.

  Zoey slapped herself mentally for letting her attention wander. “Do go on. Tell me what this is about.”

  “Well, we have a little apartment at the ranch, self-contained, that we built over the garage when Marty—that’s our aunt—first moved out here. Then Ryan joined us. He’d had, well—well, he’d had some bad luck and needed a place to live.”

  “You mean after his marriage fell through?” She couldn’t help it; she took some satisfaction in meeting the situation head-on. She hated beating around the bush, although she suspected Cameron Donnelly preferred it. Did he think he was sparing her feelings? Was he even aware that she and Ryan had had some history, pathetic though it was?

  He frowned at her for a second or two. “Well, no. It was quite a few years after that.”

  When he said nothing more on the topic of his brother’s aborted marriage, Zoey muttered, rather sheepishly, “Elizabeth told me about it.”

  “I see.” He paused and gave her a stare that clearly said: women talk too much. “Ryan went to Alberta after the wedding fell through. He worked on the rigs and did some cowboying south of Calgary before he came back here.” He shrugged. “Ryan never moved into the apartment. Nor did Marty. The place is empty.”

  He glanced at the mirrored ceiling again. It was like a two-ton elephant in the room; it couldn’t be ignored. Zoey bit her tongue, knowing he’d eventually continue.

  “If you’re interested…”

  “Oh, definitely!” Zoey blushed. What luck. Peace and quiet and nothing much to do out there in the country. The more she’d thought about it
since she’d arrived in Stoney Creek, the more she wondered if there might not be some real basis to the feelings between her and Ryan all those years ago. Perhaps with Adele Martinez muddying the waters, that attraction—if any—had never had a chance to flourish.

  “I, uh—” he shot a worried glance at her “—I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I’ve got another reason for offering you the apartment. It’s to do with you and my brother.”

  Zoey sat straight up in her chair. “And that is?”

  “I know he used to see a fair bit of you in high school. Now you’re back and—well, I don’t need to tell you you’re a very beautiful woman. Very, uh, impressive. My brother, I believe, is still sweet on you…” He paused, studying her as though to see how she’d taken his information.

  Impressive! She was glad he’d noticed, but couldn’t help thinking he was describing her more the way he would a new crescent wrench or a reliable snowblower than a woman.

  And trying to match her up with Ryan—she was so embarrassed! Sweet on her? Ryan, obviously, had never told his brother that he’d used Zoey as a pawn in a ploy to snag another girl. “D-do you really think so?”

  “I do.” Cameron Donnelly nodded. “In fact, I know he’s interested in you. He as much as told me so. He’s talked about you nonstop since the dance, you and this Mary Ellen. And I was thinking, well, if the interest ran both ways, it might be handier for the two of you if you were right there, on the spot, so—”

  “So we could—what, fool around?” She’d realized what he was proposing. He had no inkling, of course, that she’d been thinking along the same lines. Some how it seemed a lot worse when it came from him.

  Cameron had a strange look on his face. “I didn’t mean that, ma’am. Not at all. ’Course you are adults. No one would care much.” He shrugged broad shoulders. “I just figured, well, maybe you still liked him, and things might work out this time.”

  “‘Work out.’ You mean, as in…forever? Love? Marriage? Kids? The whole nine yards?” Zoey couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. If Charlotte and Lydia could see her now. If Elizabeth could see her!

  “That’s jumping ahead some, but as a matter of fact, yes, that’s exactly what I’m hoping. Ryan’s been at loose ends. He doesn’t have his heart in ranching, although he pulls his share. I’m not complaining. He’s got a good head for numbers. I believe he’s ready to settle down, maybe go into business on his own.”

  “Move out?”

  “Yeah. Get married, move out, start a family. He’s pushing thirty. He’s not a kid anymore. He sees a lot of women but nothing ever seems to come of it. Marty would like to move on, too. She feels kind of responsible for Ryan, though, and until something happens with him—” Cameron shook his head. “She’s always talking about going off and traveling with her sister.”

  This was a very long speech for Cameron Donnelly, Zoey guessed.

  “Sounds like you’re the one who needs the wife!” she quipped.

  He flushed darkly and, remembering what Elizabeth had told her about his marriage, Zoey wished she’d kept her big mouth shut.

  “No,” he said softly, looking away from her, to ward the window. “I’d hire someone to help me with my little girl, if necessary. That’s not the problem.”

  Zoey felt like a heel. She took a deep breath and pasted a bright smile on her face. “So you’re thinking I might be a good prospect for your brother?” It was crazy even talking like this!

  “You’d be a good prospect for any man,” he said seriously. Politely. “Definitely for my brother. It’s just an idea I had, ma’am—”

  “Zoey.”

  “Zoey.” He grinned, and suddenly Zoey had a completely different impression of him. Maybe he had a sense of humor. He was attractive when he smiled. Handsome, even. Well, after all, he was a Donnelly.

  He put on his hat and stood. “You think it over and let me know.”

  Zoey stood, too. “I have to be honest, Cameron, and tell you that your idea is quite far-fetched. I have a good life in Toronto. I’m here temporarily. Contrary to what you probably think, I’m not exactly desperate to find a man and get married…although, of course, I have an open mind.”

  “Okay, forget the romance. Maybe it’s a dumb idea. The place is available, though, and Marty would appreciate the female company. If anything happens between you and my brother, well, it happens. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Fine,” Zoey said and he met her eyes directly. She had a strange sensation in her stomach, like she’d had when he’d laughed in Mr. Furtz’s store.

  “Fine?”

  She smiled. “You’ve talked me into it. I’m intrigued. I admit I had a crush on your brother in high school, but, that was ten years ago. Things change, right?”

  His glance drifted from her face to her breasts, the hem of her jersey and lower. He seemed about to say something, but didn’t; instead, he opened the hall door. “Yeah, things change. What time shall I come for you?”

  “Make it just after noon tomorrow. I’ll be packed up and waiting.”

  “I’ll be here.” He put on his hat and nodded. He looked one hundred percent serious again. The steady older brother. “You can depend on me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  YES, ZOEY THOUGHT, leaning against the closed door after he’d gone. Yes, somehow she knew she could depend on Cameron Donnelly. Boring, steady, reliable. The kind of man you’d like on your side in a difficult situation.

  Especially when you have something as difficult—ridiculous!—as rekindling a romance with his brother on your mind. Zoey moved, went to the window in time to see him cross the street and get into his truck. He didn’t glance up.

  His proposition to her was probably just one more entry to be crossed off on his list this morning. If she’d said no, he’d just have moved on to his next item of business. It wasn’t as though he really thought she was perfect for Ryan, just that she was on the spot. An opportunity, that was all she was. A happy coincidence.

  As she’d told the elder Mr. Donnelly, she was not on the hunt for a man to complete her life. But, on the other hand, she wasn’t averse to it either. Maybe Cameron was right. Maybe something could happen between her and Ryan.

  As Elizabeth had told her point-blank a few days ago, she could do worse. She had done worse. Visions of her last boyfriend—hogging the conversation at parties, glancing in the rearview mirror to check his hair before getting out of the car—came instantly to mind. The worst of it was, she’d actually been prepared to put up with his vanity…until the day she’d caught him in flagrante delicto on his office sofa.

  What did that say about her?

  Ryan had been different, even at eighteen. Warm, loving, friendly. Considerate. And if it hadn’t been real love back then, it had sure felt like real love.

  She remembered the agony when she’d first fallen for him, when he didn’t even know she existed. Then the utter delight that he’d chosen her—her!—to make Adele jealous and the overwhelming despair when he stopped calling. Endless tearful sessions with Mary Ellen, the quiet soothing voice of her mother, telling her not to take on so, there were as many men as there were fish in the sea. She remembered screaming that she didn’t want fish in the sea, she wanted Ryan Donnelly!

  She’d never thought of looking him up again until that conversation at the Jasper Park Lodge last spring. But Mary Ellen’s invitation to return to Stoney Creek meant their paths were bound to cross. Fate? Maybe. Stranger things had happened.

  If there was still a romantic spark that could be fanned to life, as Ryan’s brother seemed to think—who was she to take the high road?

  They were all adults now, as Cameron had reminded her. Not teens anymore, wearing their hearts on their sleeves. Pursuing a flirtation with Ryan would be fun, she decided suddenly—fun and not terribly risky at all. Regardless of what came of it, no one would get hurt.

  Either way, wouldn’t it be a knock-out story to take back to the Jasper
Park Lodge reunion next year?

  WITH THE VISIT from Cameron Donnelly, plus her determination to get through the first chapter of the Chinchilla manuscript, Zoey missed lunch entirely. At two o’clock, she decided to take a break and drive out to Edith Owen’s place, three miles outside town along the river. She grabbed a sandwich from a takeout deli and drove with the radio turned up full blast, singing along to Nellie Furtado as she drove.

  Edith lived in a double-wide trailer on a big open lot. There used to be a small three-room log house in that location, long since demolished, where Mary Ellen had lived as a child. Widowed twelve years earlier, Edith Owen was remarrying, a surprise romance with her neighbor, a retired army man, according to Mary Ellen, a tireless fisherman and a lifelong bachelor.

  Edith wanted a quiet civil ceremony and had no idea that Mary Ellen was planning a big party for the whole town. Zoey was going to help with the planning and, most importantly, bake the wedding cake. Call-a-Girl had catered a number of small weddings, and Zoey had helped Lydia with the cakes many times. She’d never made one entirely on her own, and was a little nervous at the prospect.

  Zoey was dying to meet Tom Bennett, Edith’s fiancé. He must be quite a man, Zoey thought, knowing how madly in love Edith had been with Mary Ellen’s father. And what had entered a long-term bachelor’s mind to change his circumstances at this time in life? she wondered. Mary Ellen’s stepmother was in her mid-fifties, and Zoey guessed Tom Bennett must be of a similar age. Plus, Edith was wheelchair-bound most of the time these days, suffering from spinal stenosis, a crippling long-term spinal condition.

  True love. Must be. You never knew where it would show up, she thought, signaling for the turnoff that led to the Owens’ place. Tom and Edith or—look at her. Who’d have guessed she’d even contemplate blowing on the embers of her long-ago romance with Ryan Donnelly?

  Edith’s yard was tidy but plain, no flower beds or any kind of landscaping that took extra attention. At this time of year, the grass was brown, with occasional patches of snow under the trees and in dips and hollows, all that remained after the last snowfall, a week ago, Elizabeth had told her. The trees were bare.