A Cowboy for Lynne: Cameron Family Saga

by Shirley Larson

  “Jake Rutledge.” His mouth quirked as if I’d amused him. I wanted to do more than amuse him. I wanted to kick him. Max Dhiel rushed in to say, “Jake is our board president. His family is native to Florida. He owns a ranch of about two hundred thousand acres on the outskirts of town.”

  “How very interesting,” I said.

  “Max.” Jake said chidingly. “You don’t need to give her my resume.”

  “I‘m glad to hear it,” I said, in my most formal voice, “these things are good to know.” Sooner rather than later. Almost shaking with anger, I finished handing out my papers to Carol Major and Ken Browning then went to sit back in the single chair that faced them. I’d gone through auditions many times but never one as nerve wracking as this. Not only was I nervous, I was angry and I had to work very hard to control my temper. Suddenly, I really wanted this job, but I was sure, with Jake Rutledge sitting on the board as president no less, I hadn’t a hope in hell. When Max Dhiel asked me my reason for leaving the Broadway stage, I said frankly, “I’m of the age where I can no longer play ingénue parts. My brothers told me about your project here and it sounded intriguing.”

  Marian Harding was next. “I see by your resume that you attended college for two years. You didn’t get your degree?”

  “No. During my sophomore year I had the opportunity to be in the chorus line of a musical and get my Equity card. After that, I was able to keep getting parts and the parts got gradually bigger. I thought that my ten years on the Broadway stage was excellent experience to qualify me for this job.”

  “I see,” she said, but I could tell she didn’t agree.

  I thought Jake was going to be silent and let the others grill me. But just as I felt we were at the end of the interview and I had lost out because of my lack of a degree, Jake said in the smooth, evocative voice of his, “I envision this as a 24/7 job. If we offer you the position, are you willing to relocate to this area permanently and accept that it‘s not a nine to five job?”

  My chin came up. “I’ve worked in enough theaters to know it’s never a nine to five job. Theater will take every bit of stamina you have, eat up every minute of your life. I expect it‘s very much like ranching,” I said, thinking there must be sparks flying from my eyes, I stared at him so hard, “with perhaps time off for an occasional odd job here and there.”

  My fierce gaze didn’t deter him from asking, “You’ve only been working in front of the stage. Do you feel you have the skills and knowledge to work as a producer and director?”

  “When you’re hired as an actor, Mr. Rutledge, you spend a lot of time waiting for light adjustments, waiting for costume fittings, waiting for the tech crew to finish their preparations. You absorb a great deal of knowledge. In addition to that, I’ve hung around a few of my brothers’ renovations enough to gain some knowledge of mechanical details. I do know a batten from a pin rail. Would you like me to explain the difference?”

  Jake Rutledge looked as if he were enjoying my outburst. He wore that same smile I’d once thought was so appealing. Max Dhiel must have sensed the tension. “I’m sure your knowledge of the theater’s workings must be more than adequate for our needs. We thank you very much for coming down to interview with us, Ms. Cameron. We’ll be calling you tomorrow with our decision no matter what it is.”

  I thanked him, gathered up my purse and with my head high, left the room.

  Chapter 5

  Lynne

  When I got back to my hotel, I tossed my brief case on the bed, stripped off my interview clothes and got in the shower. I let the hot water run over me, wondering how a woman who thought she was so smart could be so stupid. Had Richard taught me nothing about the deviousness of men? I’d thought Jake Rutledge was different, a good old country boy, honest as the day was long. What a laugh. I scrubbed and shampooed and rinsed, as if cleansing every part of me would get Mr. Rutledge out from under my skin.

  Fat chance. I swathed myself in the hotel’s bathrobe and came out to look at the room service menu. Not very exciting, but I ordered a veggie wrap and a cup of tea. I ditched the robe and pawed through my suitcase, looking for my comfy pajamas that sported gamboling panda bears. All this cleaning and dressing was meant to distract me from what I knew I had to do: make a decision. Before I knew of Jake’s involvement, I had wanted the job desperately. Did I want it now when staying here mean I’d be in constant contact with a lying cowboy? Could I bear that, knowing how devious he was?

  Maybe all my agonizing was pointless. Marion what’s-her-name seemed pretty focused on the fact I didn’t have a college degree. I might not be offered the job.

  I wandered to the window to look out at the parking lot when what to my wondering eye should appear but a red antique truck. Who should get out of that truck but the perfidious Jake Rutledge, still looking like he’d just stepped out of a corporate meeting…or a page of GQ. He wore jeans with that expensive sport coat and of course, he wore them very well. I was glad I’d seen him. Forewarned, I simply wouldn’t open the door for him.

  A minute or two later an attendant called out “Room service.”

  I checked the peek hole to make sure it was just the attendant and then opened the door. It was the cart with my food…but the not-so-charming Mr. Rutledge followed the trolley in.

  I wanted to ask the attendant to throw Jake out, but he was a skinny kid sporting a case of acne. He wouldn’t stand a chance against Jake.

  When the attendant left, Jake, acting as if he owned the place, rolled the trolley up close to the window. What was I thinking? He probably did own the place.

  “Shouldn’t you be back on the ranch punching cows?” I said in the iciest voice I had in my repertoire.

  “We don’t punch cows anymore. Nowadays we just give them a stern talking to.”

  Darn. He was not going to charm me with his humor. “I’d ask you to stay, but I’d rather you didn’t. If you’ve come to apologize, consider it done. If you’ve come to tell me I didn’t get the job, consider that done. Now just…go.”

  “I did come to apologize, and I don’t think you could even imagine the groveling I had planned. Secondly, I’ve come to tell you that the board has gone with another candidate who has a couple of college degrees, against my most strenuous protests I might add, and apologizes for any inconvenience.”

  Here it was. The rejection I knew would come.

  “Before you say anything, let me explain,” Jake began. “The thing that happened between us was more or less…accidental. By the time I realized I should have said, hey I’m on the theater board, it was too late to back track.”

  “Back track?” I was incredulous. “You could have told me any time. But you thought it would be better to find out all you could about me before my interview.”

  “Lynne.” He came a step closer to me. “Do you think I would tell those people any part of your personal life that you shared me? If you did, you don’t know me very well.”

  “That’s just it, isn’t it? I don’t know you at all. I thought you were an honest, hard-working ranch hand who punched cows and recited Shakespeare. I thought you were the find of the century, one in a million. Boy, did I have a wrong number. Or the right one, I guess, if we‘re talking about your bank account.”

  He came and gripped my shoulders to hold me still and make me listen. Part of me wanted to rip myself out of his hold, but the other part wanted to stay right where I was, so close to him I could see him breathe. “I am an honest, hard-working ranch hand who has been burned a few times by women who panted after the money and prestige they thought I could offer them. Can you blame me for wanting to see what it was like to be with a woman who gave no thought to my income?”

  “Let go of me, Jake.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You’re lying,” he said and pulled me into his arms. I didn’t have a bra on, and my breasts were pressed against his hard chest and it felt good, so good.

  With a tender
hand at my nape, he pressed my head down against his shoulder. I didn‘t want to do it, but my arms went around his waist. We just stood there, absorbing each other. “You’re so tall. You fit me so well. God, I love the feel of your body on mine. You smell so good, all showered and ready for bed and wouldn’t I like to take you there.”

  Shamelessly, I stood there for several seconds, loving the feel of his body as much as he said he loved mine, before I uttered what had to be said, “Jake, you have to let me go.”

  “I know.”

  He released me and flashed that rueful smile at me. “That wasn’t exactly the kind of groveling I had in mind. I seem to take leave of my senses when I’m around you, Lynne Cameron.” He studied my face for a moment which, with my acting ability I managed to make expressionless. “Please,” he said in that voice that did things to me, “don’t leave Florida right away.”

  “There’s no reason for me to stay. There can never be anything between us.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Because I have money?”

  “No. Because you lied.”

  “I didn’t lie, Lynne.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “I’d call it a selection of facts.”

  “I want you out of here,” I told him, which was another lie.

  “Do you have your flight back home booked?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Will you wait until tomorrow morning? I have to check out a couple of things.”

  “I’ll be here until I can get my flight squared away,” I said in the same expressionless voice. “Then I’m out of here. And the sooner the better.”

  “I’ll have to get right on my research then. Goodnight, Lynne.”

  “Goodbye, Jake.” I went to the door and held it open. He cast me one last look and then walked through it.

  The next morning, I sat in the hotel dining room with my laptop, in the process of making a reservation to fly home when a man came to stand in front of my table.

  “I don’t know if you remember me…”

  “Of course I do, Mr. Dhiel. Won’t you sit down? I’ve just finished breakfast. Would you like cup of coffee?” I couldn’t imagine what Max Dhiel wanted with me, but I was mighty curious.

  “Yes, I believe I will have a cup of coffee.”

  I signaled the waitress. Since I had worked on the other side of that apron, I was always cordial to wait staff. “Mr. Dhiel would like a coffee. Decaf? Black” I asked him.

  “Decaf, cream,” he said, and she went to draw him a cup.

  “I used to live on strong black coffee when I was working at the Space Center. Now I have to watch my caffeine intake. Doctor’s orders.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I waited. He didn’t seem to know what to say either. His coffee came, he stirred it.

  “It seems,” he began, his eyes on his spoon going around, “that we have been lied to. The man we chose falsified his resume. He had no degrees. He’s only acted in a few equity theaters in Florida. He felt that gave him enough experience to handle our job. He used a couple of obscure colleges that he thought we wouldn‘t bother to check.”

  “I see.”

  “You were next in line as our most promising candidate. I wonder if you could forgive our hastiness in going with a smooth-talking liar and consider taking the position as our producer and director.”

  I hadn’t expected this. I’d been so up and down about this job and after Jake’s visit last night, I’d almost convinced myself it was a good thing I’d been rejected. Now it was being tossed back at me. “I visited the theater last night. It’s in really bad shape.”

  “Yes, I know. But we have grants in place to cover the renovation. And that includes buying any furniture, a desk for your office, a computer and whatever else you think you need. I have a credit card I can hand you if you agree to accept the position. I also have a contract ready for you to sign.”

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “I was told you were planning to leave town today. I wanted to catch you before you left.”

  Only one person knew I was leaving town today. “When did you talk to Mr. Rutledge?”

  “Last night. He…” Mr. Dhiel looked uncomfortable. “Jake went on the Internet and did the research we should have done. He discovered our candidate lied about his degrees. That disqualified him. Our next best candidate was you.”

  “Jake didn’t put any pressure on you to hire me?”

  “No, why would he?” Dhiel became defensive. “He pointed out that you were the best candidate and that I needed to act quickly before you left town.”

  “I’ll have to fax this contract to my brother and have him look it over.”

  “Of course. The contract is for a year. We felt we‘d be lucky if you lasted that long.”

  “We?”

  “Jake and I.” He rose, unaware he’d just insulted me. He was obviously glad this interview was over. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

  “Tomorrow at the latest,” I told him and rose to shake his hand. “I know how hard it is to admit to a mistake,” I said.

  “There was no mistake.” He stood up very straight. “We were misinformed. We look forward to working with you, Ms. Cameron.”

  “And I you, if I decide to sign.”

  He scurried away. Oh, boy. If he was a sample of the people overseeing me, I was in trouble.

  Well, if Mr. Jake Rutledge thought I’d wouldn’t last out the year, he needed to learn something about the Camerons. We don’t quit.

  I faxed a copy of the contract to Alex. He called me up, incredulous. “Are you really going to sign this thing? It says your salary is a hundred dollars a week.”

  “It’s a non-profit, Alex. And a startup at that.”

  “You’ll blow through your savings in a year.”

  There was big-brother confidence. “You don’t think I can live on a hundred dollars a week?”

  “I don’t think you can live on a hundred dollars an hour. Damn it, Lynne. You’re used to buying designer dresses and shoes.”

  “Well, isn’t a good thing I have such a large supply of them that I won’t be needing any for a while?”

  I could feel Alex shaking his head. “I wouldn’t sign this thing in a million years if I were you, but it’s your funeral, sis. The one good thing about it is that the three of us will be able to check in with you occasionally.”

  “That is a good thing…I think. Thanks for the advice, Alex. Give my love to Susan. Is she feeling okay?”

  “She‘s fine. Still working. Can‘t keep her down.”

  “It’s about time you had a family. You’re not as young as you used to be.”

  “And you’re the one who saw to that with your teenage escapades.”

  “Water under the bridge, big brother.” I laughed and hung up the phone. I admit it. I had a job that I knew was going to be fascinating…and nearly impossible.

  Then the cold hard fact hit. Against all the odds, I was going to have to make that theater turn over enough money to pay the bills…including my hundred dollar a week salary. And I would have to do it all the while maintaining an impersonal relationship with Jake Rutledge.

  Chapter 6

  No million dollar Savile Row cowboy was going to get the best of me. I could still see him sitting there as president of the board, big as life, as if there wasn’t a reason in the world I should be angry at him. I was more than angry. I felt betrayed. He’d taken advantage of me. After my experience with Richard, I’d vowed never to let a man take advantage of me again.

  Yet he did have the decency to come to my hotel room and tell me face to face that I didn’t get the job. I had to admit there was a certain honesty to that. And then, oh, then I’d stood in his arms like some kind of docile sheep and let him hold me. How conflicted was that?

  It couldn’t happen again. My sole concentration had to be on getting that theater up and running. And I could do it, I was sure. Full of confidence, I gathered cleaning materials fro
m the closest stores, loaded up my car and set off…only to find out that between nine o’clock two nights ago when Jake and I had left the theater and this morning, hoodlums had been at work decorating the front of the theater with paint, white loops and black whirls of graffiti. They’d even outlined their hand prints on the window of the ticket booth.

  I was angry past a point that was reasonable. I felt as if those yahoos had besmirched my best friend. She was my theater and nobody had a right to put a hand on her but me and my family. By the same token, there was only me to clean it up.

  I stood in the heat of the Florida morning and studied their handiwork, thinking about the hours of scrubbing ahead of me. I supposed I should report it to the police, but what was the point? I did what every Cameron did when faced with a crisis. I sent a text to big brother Hunter.

  Front of the theater has been vandalized. How do I get black and white paint off brick?

  He got back to me immediately. Depends on what kind of paint it is. Is it water based or oil-based?

  How the heck do I know?

  Get some water and try a corner with a scrub brush. If it comes off, it’s water based. If it doesn’t, you need a stronger paint remover. I can overnight a couple of cans of the stuff we use. If it’s water based, rent a pressure washer. It should come off with that.

  It was Sunday morning. Where was I going to rent a cup of coffee let alone a pressure washer? Then I thought of what words they could have written, and I was glad they had been artistic rather than graphic.