Zoey Phillips

by Judith Bowen

  She just wished he’d quit calling her “kid.” She wasn’t a kid anymore and she was tired of anyone in the town—especially Ryan—still thinking she was just “that little Phillips girl.” It bothered her that no one, not even Elizabeth, seemed all that interested in who she was today, where she lived, what kind of friends she had. Sure, they were all excited when they heard she edited a famous writer, but Zoey didn’t get any pleasure out of riding on someone else’s coattails. She wanted to be appreciated for who she was, the person she’d become—competent, successful editor in a tough business, a savvy woman with a good life. Well, a pretty good life.

  Maybe that was just small towns. Everybody was caught up in their own lives, which revolved around the town and the people who lived there. That made sense.

  She saw Marty come onto the back steps to shake out a broom. Marty waved at her, calling out, “Come on over for coffee—I just made a crumb cake!”

  Zoey yelled back that she would and when she climbed up the stairs to her apartment, she felt better.

  Marty seemed to take her seriously. So did Cameron, really. Lissy had thawed considerably. And Elizabeth—well, Elizabeth had even sounded a little envious when Zoey had described her apartment in Toronto and mentioned that she had a cleaning lady once a week. Lizzie had called her a “high-powered career girl,” which had sounded awfully old-fashioned, but now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn’t.

  That left Ryan. But he’d take her seriously, too. It was a question of time and circumstance. She just had to convince him that she was no longer seventeen, that she was all grown up and—how did that song go?—“ready for love.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DESPITE THE LURE of the fresh snow, which was followed by another big dump the next afternoon, Zoey put in two long hard days on the Chinchilla manuscript and then drove to Mary Ellen’s on Wednesday to help with the final fitting for Edith’s dress.

  At least that was the plan. When she got there, Edith told her the dressmaker had come out the previous day—hadn’t Mary Ellen called?—and in fact, Mary Ellen wasn’t even home, she’d gone to Prince George with Ryan to do some Christmas shopping.

  That was a surprise. But, then, maybe it wasn’t. Mary Ellen had told her on the phone the morning of the first snowstorm that she wasn’t keen on driving in the icy conditions. Ryan must have offered to chauffeur her. And, as for letting Zoey know, she’d had her phone turned off for the past two days while she worked on the manuscript.

  Zoey drove home slowly. Home! She was starting to think of the cramped apartment over the garage at the Triple Oarlock as home. The roads had been plowed and sanded and she felt quite confident, even though it had been years since she’d driven in winter.

  Wasn’t it just like Ryan to help a friend out? Mary Ellen probably wanted to pick up some things for the wedding party without Edith’s knowledge. Who better to take her than Ryan? He always seemed generous with his time, always prepared for an adventure.

  However, Zoey was beginning to wonder how much actual work he did for Cameron. Two days before, when the snow first arrived, he’d met Lissy’s school bus at the ranch road, as promised, and brought her back just after one o’clock. Someone always had to meet Lissy at the road, a distance of over half a mile. It was a long walk for a kindergarten girl burdened down with book bag and lunch box, especially in winter.

  Zoey had finished her call to the East coast and she’d been ready to play again. Lissy was as delighted with the new snow as Zoey and Ryan. They’d spent a hilarious afternoon, trying to build a snowman out of the few inches that had fallen. They’d finally given up, just shoveling a big pile—Ryan’s idea—into one place and burying the little girl in it, with her arms and head sticking out. Afterward, Marty called them in for hot chocolate and the rest of the crumb cake. More than once, Zoey had wondered where Cameron was—shouldn’t he be out here enjoying this experience with his daughter?

  Perhaps he wasn’t home. Or maybe he was in the barn nursing the injured Corky. Zoey decided she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, distant and reserved or not, he was Lissy’s father. The child was just lucky that she had a doting great-aunt and such an outgoing, fun-loving uncle.

  Zoey hadn’t felt comfortable since their discussion when Cameron had walked her home three nights before. It had occurred to her that maybe he felt the same way and was avoiding her. She’d pried into his affairs, but he wasn’t the sort of man to tell her flat-out to mind her own business. He was an expert at avoidance. After all, wasn’t he the man who’d said the sooner his daughter forgot about her own mother, the better? As if that was going to happen!

  When Zoey finally drove into the yard, safe and sound, she’d made up her mind. She’d track Cameron down, wherever he was, and apologize. Take the blame and clear the air. Promise to mind her own business in the future. Whatever it took.

  She found him in the barn. He and Gabe were applying a poultice to the injured gelding’s shoulder when she located them in a dimly lighted box stall on the far side of the big, dark building. It was a creepy place, with black cobwebby corners and ropes hanging from nails and the smell of straw and hay and horses everywhere. She spotted several barn cats dozing on bales of hay and was quite sure she’d seen something skedaddle into a corner. A rat? She shuddered.

  The instant Gabe spotted her, he mumbled something to Cameron and disappeared.

  She attempted a laugh. “I get the feeling he doesn’t like me!”

  “Not you.” Cameron glanced her way, but she could tell he did not welcome the interruption. “Any woman. They scare him.” He poured a pail of steaming water into the gutter that ran in front of the box stall.

  “Oh?” Zoey waited, but no elaboration was forthcoming.

  “What can I do for you?” Cameron leaned against the animal’s rump and tilted his hat down a little over his eyes, so she couldn’t see his expression clearly. He wasn’t making this easy.

  “H-how’s the horse?” Zoey said breathlessly. Actually, that wasn’t what she’d planned to ask at all, but now that she saw the animal covered with bandages on his belly and legs, she felt sorry for him.

  “Oh, pretty well, considering,” Cameron answered, slapping the horse’s rump lightly, causing him to swing his big head around with questioning eyes, his mouth full of hay wisps. “He’ll pull through. No tendon damage, from what we can tell. Poultices are keeping the swelling down.”

  “That’s good.” Zoey shifted her weight from one foot to the other and reminded herself why she was here. She took a deep breath. “I feel you’ve been avoiding me the past couple of days.”

  “Avoiding you? Well, maybe I am,” he said slowly, frowning.

  She kept her eyes on the horse’s ears. “I think I know why. I want to apologize for the other night—”

  “The other night?” He looked genuinely perplexed.

  “You know, bringing up that stuff about your ex-wife and Lissy and asking you about Sara and all that. It was none of my business. I apologize for poking my nose into your affairs. I don’t know why I did. I won’t do it again.”

  He laughed.

  Zoey was stunned. Laugh?! That was the last thing she expected.

  “You asked because you’re a woman. Because you wanted to know.” He gave a good-natured shrug. “Hey, I’ll bet you’re even more curious than you were before. You’ve probably got half a dozen other questions you’re dying to ask me.”

  She did have a dozen more questions, maybe two dozen, but she wasn’t telling him that! “Believe what you like,” she said stiffly, “but I am sincere. I shouldn’t have asked about Lissy’s mother. It must be a sensitive subject for you. Or about Sara Rundle. As I said, it’s none of my business.”

  Cameron’s expression darkened and he unsnapped the rope that was attached to the horse’s halter. “There’s no need to apologize, but if you feel better apologizing, fine. I accept.”

  He kneeled down and began to run his hands gently down the horse’s
left rear leg, paying careful attention to the area above the hoof. The horse flicked his tail nervously.

  “Don’t you want to know how things are going with me and Ryan?” She wanted to make it clear that it was okay with her if he asked questions. She owed him.

  “No,” he said, turning his head to look directly at her. “I don’t.”

  “I thought you’d be interested,” she said, taken aback. He’d wanted her to establish a relationship with his brother; that was his whole reason for offering the garage apartment in the first place.

  “I’m not.”

  Zoey couldn’t think what to say after that, so she left, trying to walk down the exact middle of the wood corridor that separated the stalls, for fear of getting her boots in the icky stuff that ran in the gutters, or spotting another mouse or rat. Some rancher’s wife she’d make!

  She was also extremely aware that Cameron had straightened as she left and that his gaze followed her all the way out of the barn. She knew the horrible Gabe was lurking somewhere nearby, peeping.

  Marty wasn’t home and Zoey was in desperate need of female company. She wished Lydia and Charlotte were here. On impulse she dialed Lydia’s number in Toronto. No answer. No sense calling Charlotte. She was off in the wilds of Prince Edward Island right now. Mary Ellen wasn’t available, either, so she decided to drive back to town and see Elizabeth.

  She’d kill two birds with one stone. Zoey and Mary Ellen had agreed that she should make a fairly plain wedding cake. Not too plain, Zoey hoped. That was half the fun of wedding cakes—going crazy with the decorating and presentation. Elizabeth would have some good ideas and, with any luck, Elizabeth would also know where she could rent pans.

  The actual cake didn’t worry Zoey; she’d baked enough of them when she and Charlotte and Lydia were doing Call-a-Girl. But she wasn’t sure if she could get roll-out fondant topping out here in the sticks. The special fondant was critical to achieving a smooth, professional effect. Also, what about actual cake decorations? Candied or silk flowers? She’d ask Elizabeth.

  Zoey waved to her friend through the kitchen window as she parked and by the time she’d entered the back door, depositing her snowy rubber boots just inside, Elizabeth had put the kettle on for tea.

  “What’s this?” Zoey waved toward the kitchen table, which was covered with Styrofoam balls, velvet ribbon, fake eyes and bits of silky fluff.

  “The Santa fridge magnets sold so well at the Nimpkits Lake craft fair last week that I thought I’d make a bunch more for the one at the Anglican church here on Wednesday,” Elizabeth explained. “I want to get everything finished before the party.” She gave Zoey a knowing look. “How are things going?”

  Zoey knew exactly what she meant. Ryan. “Oh, fine. We’ve been doing stuff together. Having fun. I just wish he’d quit calling me ‘kid.’” She made a face at her friend.

  “Wait until he sees you all gorgeous in a party dress,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Kid will not even occur to him. Book going okay?”

  “Great.” Even when she’d been up to her eyebrows in the book for the past few days, she kept thinking of Cameron’s grim admission that he’d never loved his wife. “Lizzie, did you know Cameron’s ex?”

  Elizabeth paused, holding the teakettle high as she began to pour it into the Brown Betty teapot. “Not really. Why?”

  “It’s so weird. I had dinner over there again on Sunday and it was like, I don’t know—the twilight zone. As though she doesn’t exist. No one’s supposed to mention her apparently, not even Lissy.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “It’s kind of sad,” she said, bringing the teapot to the table and pushing her craft material to one side. “He met her in a bar, she got pregnant right away and he married her. End of story. She wasn’t from around here, from up in the Bulkley Valley somewhere. They tried to make a go of it for a while, I guess. Then shortly after Lissy was born, she disappeared.”

  Zoey stared at her friend. “Disappeared?”

  “Took off and took the baby with her. It nearly killed Cam.”

  “How long has he had Lissy? I don’t get it—did the mother bring Lissy here and just dump her?” Zoey couldn’t help the unexpected surge of sympathy she felt. No wonder he was so grim. No wonder he acted as though he didn’t know how to raise his own daughter.

  “Just over two years ago. She brought Lissy back because she was involved with some older man who didn’t want kids around. Not someone else’s kids, anyway. Imagine!” Elizabeth frowned as she poured tea into two mugs. “Actually, I kind of felt sorry for her, although I only met her a couple of times. She was a wreck. And then—” Elizabeth shrugged helplessly. “Did Cameron tell you that she and the new husband were both killed?”

  “Killed? He just said she died.”

  “A car accident. Somewhere in the mountains around Field, near the Alberta border. Wintertime. Drunk driver. Not them,” Elizabeth added quickly, shaking her head. “Ironic, isn’t it? She was such a lush herself and then some strange drunk weaves over the center line, head-on, and it’s game over.”

  “How horrible.” Zoey thought of the shy overtures Lissy had made to her lately, after being so reserved at first. The way she’d watched her and Ryan together that Sunday evening. Ryan had had a drink in his hand. Lissy probably had some bad memories of adults with drinks in their hands. Her mother and her mother’s friends.

  Zoey stared at her friend. “He told me the sooner Lissy forgot about her mother, the better.”

  “I hate to say it, but I don’t think Cam’s doing that little girl any good by not letting anyone talk about it. Maybe he thinks that’s best, but I don’t agree.”

  Zoey looked at her clasped hands, thinking of Lissy so proudly telling her that she and her mother had lived in a big city, far, far away. How her mother had lots and lots of boyfriends.

  “Well, thank goodness for Marty and Ryan,” Zoey said finally. “That’s all I can say. Ry’s really good with Lissy. Cameron is—well, he just doesn’t seem that relaxed around her. It’s hard to describe.” She took a sip of the hot tea and reached for one of the sugar cookies Elizabeth had brought to the table. “Have you ever noticed.”

  “Everyone has.” Elizabeth picked up her own mug and blew gently on the surface. “Still, you can’t blame him. He’s learning. Fathering doesn’t exactly come naturally, you know?” She laughed at Zoey’s expression. It didn’t? Zoey hadn’t had a clue. “Why are you so curious?”

  “I—I don’t know. I just wondered, that’s all. Last Sunday he told me his ex wasn’t to be discussed in his house. That’s it, period.” Zoey lightly bounced the flat of her hand against the tabletop. “I thought, what a pompous turkey. Then he said he hadn’t loved his wife—imagine telling a stranger something like that! I still don’t get it—if he didn’t love her, why would he have married her?”

  “Circumstances,” Elizabeth said. “He’s the type, don’t you think? Old-fashioned. And she must have figured it was a good idea, too. Took her out of the bar life for a while. Maybe they both thought it could work. He’s a decent guy. Actually, I think it would be great if he got married again.” Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “Don’t you? Apparently he’s been seeing that new teacher in town, Sara Rundle, did Marty tell you?”

  “Marty says she’s shameless,” Zoey muttered sourly. “Whatever that means.”

  “Oh, gosh!” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Marty’s a mother hen. Still thinks her nephews are little boys. Well, maybe Ryan acts like one sometimes, but they’re hardly boys,” she said, with an arch look at her friend.

  “Yeah,” Zoey said noncommittally. She’d definitely noticed that Ryan was no boy, as Elizabeth put it, and she’d also noticed that Cameron had a certain rough-edged appeal. Not that she was attracted to the type, but she could see that other women might be. She wondered what the ex, Lissy’s mother, had looked like. Blond, no doubt, like Lissy. And like Sara Rundle. “Let’s forget about the Donnellys for a while—can I do anything for the Christmas party?”


  “Just show up looking sexy and glamorous. If you want, you can help with the kids’ party I’m having earlier in the evening. It’s Tessa’s birthday and I always do a birthday-Christmas sleepover thing.” Elizabeth grabbed a notebook and pen from among the craft supplies.

  “Sure,” Zoey said. “I’d be glad to. What else?”

  “I’m inviting twenty-two people—”

  “Twenty-two!”

  “Mary Ellen is coming, of course, and so are Edith and Tom. Shall I invite Cameron?” Elizabeth was writing busily.

  Zoey got a crumb of sugar cookie stuck in her throat and coughed. “Sure, why not?”

  “The girls will want Lissy to come for the sleepover. I’ll invite Sara, too—”

  “Why her?” Zoey broke in. “Are you two friends?”

  Elizabeth glanced up, surprised. “Well, they’re an item, aren’t they?”

  “Oh. If they are, I suppose he’d bring her as his date, wouldn’t he, if you invited him?”

  “Maybe.” Elizabeth picked up her pencil and scratched out the last name she’d entered. “Better leave her off. After all,” she said, laughing, “it’s not as though we’re trying to match him up with anybody. Just you and Ryan.”

  “Maybe,” Zoey interrupted, reaching for another cookie. “These are great cookies, by the way.”

  “No ‘maybe’—Ryan and you,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Like those? I can give you the recipe.”

  ZOEY DROVE to Williams Lake Friday, to see if she could find a suitable dress for Elizabeth’s party. It was all very well for Elizabeth to expect glamour and sophistication, but Zoey hadn’t exactly packed for that. She had the outfit she planned to wear to Edith’s wedding, a pale lavender wool skirt and jacket, very classy that made her look terribly elegant—in her opinion—but it wouldn’t do for the party. Party meant fun. Slinky. Sexy. Over-the-top drama.

  She couldn’t find anything she wanted in the stores that lined Main Street, or at the one mall she visited on the outskirts of town. Why not go to Vancouver for the weekend? she suddenly thought. It was only an hour and a half flight and she could park her car at the airport. If she could get a flight on such short notice, she’d do it.