by Isla Bennet
“Is that so horrible?” Valerie asked, feeling his words scratch a little too close to home. There had been people who’d urged her to sell the ranch, to even consider giving up her daughters for adoption, because they’d doubted she could be a rancher and a single mother. The nay-sayers had given her that extra shot of determination to, as Jack said, prove them wrong.
“Let’s find a solution, then,” she said in response to his silence. “Should we make one of our guys full-time, then? Bring someone else on?”
“Yeah, and have Dee bust my balls over it.”
“If she shouldn’t work then we need to bring somebody on. It’s common sense, and once she gets over her pride, she’ll see there’s no point in busting your balls. Coop’s back is ailing him, and if we can’t count on Cordelia we need somebody who can pick up their slack.”
“A full-timer. Another hand. If Will or Steven bump up their hours, it won’t be enough. Ripley can’t handle more than what’s already on his plate.” Jack scratched his square jaw. “I’m a math whiz, but not a miracle worker. The budget can’t handle another man’s salary plus room and board—not at the rates these local guys’re asking.”
Valerie couldn’t dispute that. When Jack had busted his leg last year in a tractor accident, he’d been able to perform his share of the accounting duties but recruiting a replacement to take over his labor had been impossible. In the end she’d upped her part-timers’ pay to persuade them to work longer hours, and borne a large slice of the burden herself.
“Fred Alvin’s got an open house coming up at his horse farm. It’s bound to draw in a lot of faces around Wellesley County—new faces from Meridien and surrounding towns. Maybe even as far as San Antonio. We should scout then,” she suggested.
Jack dipped his head in an almost-nod. “I’ll crunch some numbers and look into it, Val.”
She headed out the door, but he stopped her with “Yo, forgot this!” and lobbed the book her way.
With her pickup loaded with a backpack, camera bag and two hiking sticks, Valerie took a dusty back-roads shortcut into town. Peridot stood several yards from the courthouse. In her hiking getup of hoodie, shorts and boots, she looked out of place in the boutique hotel that boasted an upscale bistro and martini bar—usually frequented by tourists and people from the city who had more money to spend than much of Night Sky’s population. So upscale, in fact, that the last time she’d dined there had been for Felicity’s surprise birthday party last year—and even then she’d suppressed her shock at discovering that the Dom Perignon she’d drunk to toast her friend cost several hundred dollars a bottle.
She couldn’t fathom patronizing the hotel as its “regulars” did, let alone actually living long-term in a suite, as Felicity did.
As for food, she preferred the fare at the rambunctious, come-as-you-are Jamaican-Mexican restaurant in a converted old row house near the Christian church. Will’s parents, Diego and Fatima Aturro, ran the place, and she always felt at home there.
Valerie jogged up the wide concrete stairs to Peridot’s entrance, appreciating the elegant architecture and the attractive green vertical banners that flanked the revolving glass door entrance.
She kept her eyes straight ahead, intending to make a beeline to Felicity’s concierge desk, since her friend didn’t usually check her cell during a shift. In her periphery were patrons dressed to the nines with smartphones and briefcases.
“Felicity,” she said as her friend, decked out in a black short-sleeved geisha dress, resumed her place at the concierge desk. She glanced at the nearby Roman numeral clock. “We oughtta hurry if we’re going to get a decent hike in. Besides, I don’t exactly blend with this clientele—especially stomping around in boots with no makeup on.”
“Lucky much? I have to use an arsenal of makeup daily.” She collected her purse from a locked drawer behind the desk and seemed excited to be leaving. Today was her day off but she’d taken a partial shift to cover for a coworker. “Walk with me to the bistro. Hurry.”
Valerie followed Felicity across the marble lobby, watching her breezily greet guests and wave to hotel staff. More than once someone smiled at Felicity only to then catch sight of Valerie and wrinkle their brow at her clothes.
“Ignore it, Val,” Felicity said, also noticing. “You think I wear four-inch stilettos because I like to? Peridot demands polish, even if it means sacrificing comfort to look good. Even if it means dealing with stuck-up—Have a good day! Please do visit Peridot again.” She smiled indulgently at the couple wrestling a pair of suitcases down a corridor with a burdened bellboy following close behind.
At the rear of the bistro, the full bar stretched across the width of the room was awash in soft, electric-green light.
“I don’t hike under the influence.”
“You may want to after this.” Felicity leaned against the bar and discreetly pointed to a blonde woman and her lunch date. They sat opposite each other at a table. A suit-wearing server paused to deliver two martinis with olives before moving on to another table.
“Okay, what am I supposed to be seeing here?”
“Him,” Felicity said slowly, as the man rose from his chair, leaving his drink untouched, and then bent to listen to something the woman said over the din of conversation and piped music.
“Peyton.”
Felicity graced her with a sympathetic frown. “Didn’t you tell me he’s been trying to get close to you?”
“Close to Lucy. And only because he thinks he has to—not because he wants to.” Valerie turned her back to Peyton and his date, faced the bar and glanced sidelong at Felicity, who continued to watch his table.
“She looks older, maybe early forties. Put-together. Fresh highlights—”
“Seriously, quit.” Valerie chanced a subtle peek over her shoulder as Peyton walked off toward the corridor leading to a public phone and restrooms, and the woman tossed her Charlie’s Angels curls and sampled her martini.
“Dear God, look at that rock,” Felicity commented, apparently also noticing the woman’s enormous princess-cut diamond set. “Is she married, then?” She gasped. “To him?”
Valerie felt every cell in her body solidify. Peyton had demanded to know whether she was seriously involved with someone, whether another man was raising their daughter. But it hadn’t occurred to her to ask him about his relationships because she’d been so certain that he avoided attachments of the meaningful, long-term variety.
“I’m not comfortable standing here spying.”
“Then let’s go. I only brought you here because, well, he was a real womanizer back in high school, and if he’s doing the same thing now you shouldn’t get wrapped up in that drama.” Felicity bumped into a stool in her haste to follow Valerie out of the bistro. “My gear’s upstairs, so give me a few minutes to change and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Valerie was almost out of breath by the time she reached the hotel lobby. How could Peyton sweep into her and Lucy’s lives as if he had the right—the freedom—to do so? Did the “put-together” blonde even know about Peyton’s child?
Get a grip, she coached herself, resting her backside against a pillar as people milled around her. It’s not like he was ever yours.
“What are you hiding from?”
For some reason, it didn’t surprise her in the least that Peyton had spotted her. He’d probably seen her in the bistro but had pretended not to. She waited for him to step around the pillar, and then they were face-to-face. “Who said I’m hiding? I’m waiting for Felicity. We’re going to Dunesboro Wild.”
Why was she showering him with so much information?
“I didn’t see Felicity.”
“She saw you. So did I.”
“Saw me?”
“In the bistro with your date, Peyton. Is Lark Norton so unforgettable that you had to hunt down her look-alike?”
Peyton took her elbow but she shook off his touch. “You’re wrong.”
“About?”
“Prett
y much everything you just said. First, the woman you saw in the bistro is my cousin Nora. From California. She’s in town on business and after a morning-long meeting with Grandpa, she got hungry and I did the nice-guy thing and brought her here for lunch.” Peyton edged closer, invading her space, prompting her to press even tighter against the pillar. “Second, I stopped thinking about Lark Norton years ago, but you haven’t and for some reason the idea of her upsets you. Third, why do you care so much?”
“If you’re with someone, you should at least tell Lucy.”
“So it wouldn’t bother you if I was with someone?”
Valerie swallowed. He was almost as close to her as he’d been that day at the cemetery. “Don’t be silly.”
A suggestion of a frown flitted over his face. “Then why concern yourself over whether I hunted down a replacement for Lark Norton?” He paused a beat. “I’m not a saint or a boy scout—never wanted to be. I’ve been places … been with women other than Lark and you. And I want you to know I’ve been careful, Valerie. Every time.”
“I’m done discussing this, Peyton. Can we move on?”
He stepped back, releasing the hold his nearness had had on her. Grateful, Valerie moved away from the pillar and saw Felicity, who still managed to look fashionable in short denim cutoffs and a ripped-necked sweatshirt, with a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Good afternoon, Doctor Turner. Are you and your date enjoying just the bistro today, or will you require a room?”
“No thanks, Felicity,” Peyton said neutrally, but his jaw ticked. Probably at the disturbing thought of he and his cousin requiring a room.
Valerie urged her friend toward the revolving doors. She turned back to tell Peyton she’d straighten it out, but he was already walking away. And the damage from her jealousy—something savage that she hadn’t been able to control—was already done.
EPISODE FIVE
CHAPTER NINE
ON THE WAY to the open, lush wilderness of Dunesboro Wild, Valerie cleared up the whole misunderstanding. In hindsight it was a little funny, though she figured Peyton probably wouldn’t agree.
“Good thing I didn’t call him a dick, to boot,” Felicity said as she followed Valerie up a steep slope. “That’s what I called him in high school.”
“Yeah, good thing.” Valerie lifted the digital camera she carried on a strap around her wrist. “There’s a deer … I saw it out the corner of my eye.”
Felicity stilled, but leaves coating the forest floor rustled beneath her boots. “Which way did it go?”
Valerie scanned their surroundings through the lens. Above them was a tangled shelter of tree branches. Around them were the uninhibited sounds of nature. “North. C’mon!”
Almost two hours later, deep into the afternoon, they rested on a heavy, fallen tree and rummaged for snacks.
“I swear that was a cottontail rabbit,” Felicity said, reaching for Valerie’s camera to view the recently saved photos. “Blurry shot, but I just know that’s what it was.”
“Maybe,” Valerie said, though convinced that the quick-footed animal had been a squirrel. They’d both squealed to spot the elusive deer, a snake and a woodpecker. “I’ve got celery and baby carrots. What about you?”
“Trail mix. I wish I’d brought cookies instead. Sure you don’t have any Halloween candy stashed away?”
“Positive.” She shared the vegetables and scooped out some of the mix. “The ranch is too out-of-the-way for trick-or-treaters, plus everybody’s going to be at the orchard tonight. A chocolate chip cookie does sound like heaven right now.”
“So, Val, now that we know Peyton’s free, what does that mean for the two of you?”
Valerie picked up a snapped branch and scratched it against the dirt and leaves in front of her feet. “Nothing’s changed.”
“You’re not at least considering getting back together?”
“There’s no ‘back’ to get to. He and I slept together once—forever ago. It was a mistake.”
Felicity twisted her mouth. “Sure, the mistake taken right from your dirty little teenage fantasies, I’ll bet. I remember you following him around at the batting cage when we were growing up.” Big Bros’ Cages had once been a popular haunt for teens. Now the diner and a few places on the main street were the places to be.
Valerie didn’t remember crossing paths with Felicity, but she was a few years younger and back then had been caught up in her own little world that centered on the boy she’d fancied a hero.
Snacks eaten, they gathered their gear and returned to the pickup. When Valerie dropped her friend off at Peridot, Felicity stayed in her seat, scavenging for something in her backpack. “My gift to you,” she said sweetly, presenting two condoms.
Valerie stared at the foil packets. “Uh …”
“Just in case. Hello, hiker woman, you should always be prepared.”
“Who said I plan on having sex with Peyton?”
“You didn’t plan it the last time.” Felicity paused, considering. “Actually, I’ll need one of those back. I’m seeing Denny Lazarus tonight.”
“Lazarus. He and his guys did the plumbing for the house.”
“The man sure knows his way around my pipes.”
Valerie choked on a giggle, coughed to clear her throat. “Take your condoms. If I need any, I’ll buy a box.”
“A box? Pardon me, Miss Energizer Bunny.”
“Get out,” Valerie said, full-out laughing now. Her friend swiped one condom and scooted out of the truck, promising to call the next day.
Later, alone at home, Valerie stared at the packet. “I want you to know I’ve been careful, Valerie,” Peyton had said. She was the one who’d pried, who’d all but asked him who he’d had sex with. But there was something more to the words, something that felt almost like an invitation.
Flustered and exhausted, she stuffed the condom into her purse and after a short, restless nap filled with dreams of the man who simultaneously pissed her off and excited her, she went straight into the kitchen and opened the bear-shaped cookie jar. She’d fill the thing with chocolate chip cookies—homemade, from-scratch ones. If she spent the next several hours baking and doing chores and baking some more, then she wouldn’t have time to think about the little foil square burning a hole through her purse … or the man she’d dreamed about sharing it with.
MILLER STAR ORCHARD saw its biggest crowds at Halloween and Christmas. Lucy had often overheard Pastor Bruin’s wife, Rowena, say with a haughty sniff that it was a true shame that the same folks who celebrated Jesus’s day would celebrate the Devil’s day with just as much enthusiasm.
As far back as Lucy could remember, Rowena and the other Old Faithfuls had complained at town hall meetings every year about the party that had become a tradition. And every year they eventually gave up the fight because all the proceeds were donated to the churches and other charities that these women climbed over themselves to be involved with.
How had her great-grandmother Estella, whom people still praised for being a lovely Christian woman but criticized for coddling her degenerate of a grandson, endured moving in the same circles as Rowena Bruin and her big group of phonies?
Tonight, the orchard was all lit up and crawling with costumed people. Many were eating at picnic tables in the barn; others were working their way through the haunted corn maze or scoping out the offerings in the pumpkin patch or novelty booths. But most—including Cordelia and Jack, whom she’d spotted earlier while having dinner in the barn with the Carews—were lumped together in a crowd, cheering on a wedding singer who had an okay voice and a good band and was putting serious effort into “It Will Rain.”
Lucy had given up halfway through the maze and demanded that a ghoulish-looking clown lead her to the exit. She now stood at a dessert table munching on a caramel apple, eavesdropping on Rowena Bruin’s conversation.
As much as she’d looked forward to the party, the reality of it all fell short because it didn’t seem right for her
to be having so much fun. She wanted to be at her great-grandfather’s house, drawing. Or on the ranch, at her windmill with a flashlight and a good book.
Or—possibly—in the crowd listening to the band, with Owen McNamara snuggled up behind her with his arms around her.
She turned a curious eye toward the spookily decorated stage but couldn’t spot him in the swaying audience. Sarah had gotten them invited on the hayride with him and some other high schoolers, but after that he’d gone off with Minnie Hawthorne to have his fortune read by the woman who owned the New Age bookshop, and she hadn’t seen him since.
“Hey, doll.”
As tall as she was, Lucy still had to lift her chin to look up at Chief Bishop’s daughter, Eliza, who, in a short dress with her badge secured to a skinny belt, looked like she’d chosen to be “naughty cop” for Halloween. Half of the town was in love with her because she was pretty and helped out at the VFW post and knew the craziest jokes. Most of the other half feared her because she was a merciless detective.
Lucy was on the fence, but what she did know for certain was that there was nothing like standing next to Barbie’s hotter sister to remind Lucy of what she lacked. It didn’t matter that Eliza was twice her age—she was gorgeous and Lucy wasn’t and it just wasn’t fair, damn it.
“Love the costume,” Eliza said.
Dressed up like Princess Fiona from Shrek—not human Fiona, but green-skinned ogre Fiona—Lucy looked like a freak. Who could love this costume? Or the girl wearing it? “Thanks.”
“I’d planned to dress up as SpongeBob this year, but I had to leave my costume at home ’cause I’m on the job.”
“You?” Maybe it was out of line to say the word the way she did, but Lucy found it hard to believe that somebody who looked like the detective would hide all her goods inside of a giant sponge. “I mean, you like SpongeBob SquarePants?”
“Ever since my nephew was a little kid. Those big, bright eyes and that quirky laugh? What’s not to love?” Eliza grabbed a gazillion-calorie pastry from the dessert table, and with a wink and a friendly “Take care!” she strode off.
