by Cindy Myers
“Maybe you have a pack rat,” Bob said.
“We do not have rats!” She shuddered. Mice were bad enough, but rats were enough to give her nightmares.
“Not a regular rat, a pack rat.” Bob set down his burger. In his seventies, he was the picture of the grizzled miner, right down to his canvas pants, checked flannel shirt, and scraggly whiskers. Olivia suspected he cultivated this image carefully. “They’re bigger and hairier than your average rat, and they like to collect things and stash them in their nests.”
“They’re harmless,” Jameso said.
She tried to push away the image of a giant, hairy rat wearing her favorite earrings and changed the subject. “How’s Maggie?” she asked Jameso. Maggie Stevens, a reporter at the local paper, had moved to town about the same time Olivia had come to Eureka, and had started dating Jameso not too long after.
“Pregnant.”
She laughed. “That doesn’t answer my question. How’s she feeling?”
“She feels fine,” Jameso said. “But between the wedding plans and getting Barb’s B and B ready to open this summer, she’s driving me crazy.”
Olivia tried to hide a smile and failed.
“What are you smirking about?” Jameso asked.
“Those two love ordering you around,” she said. Barb Stanowski, Maggie’s best friend, lived in Houston but spent a lot of time in Eureka. Right now, she was remodeling another of the town’s old homes into a fancy bed-and-breakfast inn. “I think they like the idea of domesticating the wild man.” Before Maggie had arrived in town, Jameso had a reputation as a hard-partying free spirit, a handsome rogue who refused to settle down. Now that he and Maggie were engaged, with a baby on the way, he’d definitely changed.
“Yeah, well, I’ll be glad when the B and B opens and the wedding’s over and things settle down.” He bent and began detaching the beer keg beneath the bar. “You got the last beer out of this one, Bob.”
“I hate to tell you, but with a new baby in the house, your life will be anything but settled,” Olivia said. “Have you and Maggie found a place to live yet?”
He scowled. “No, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe you don’t have a packrat.” Bob, having finished his burger and drained the beer, pushed his empty plate and glass away. “Maybe you have a ghost. What house did you buy again?”
“It belonged to a woman named Gilroy. She was moving to Florida to live with her daughter.”
He nodded. “That’s the old McCutcheon place. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it didn’t have a ghost. They say old man McCutcheon murdered his wife when she tried to run off with a traveling insurance salesman, and buried her body in the back garden. Of course, they never found the body, but could be she’s haunting the place. A woman would like fancy earrings and such.”
“Oh, shut up, Bob. Save the tall tales for the tourists.” She didn’t believe in ghosts. “I’m just losing things because I’m stressed. I’ll have to be more careful.”
“Don’t go scaring her with your ghost stories, Bob.” Jameso hefted the empty beer keg to his shoulder. “I have to change this out. Be right back.”
As he exited out the back, the front door to the saloon opened and a woman and a girl entered. The woman was of medium height and thin, with dark brown hair falling well past her shoulders. The girl—her daughter, most likely—also had dark hair, worn in two braids on either side of her heart-shaped face. “Can I help you?” Olivia asked.
The woman looked around the almost-empty bar, then finally rested her gaze on Olivia. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked exhausted. “I’m looking for a man named Jay Clarkson,” she said. “Have you heard of him?”
Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name.” She turned to Bob. “Sound familiar to you?”
Bob shook his head. “No, and I know everybody. What do you want with this Clarkson fellow?”
She and the girl were already backing toward the door, like wild animals frightened by the questions. “Don’t go,” Olivia said. “Maybe we can help you.”
Jameso emerged from the back room with a fresh keg and Olivia turned to him. “Jameso, do you know—?”
But he was staring at the woman, his face the color of copy paper. “Sharon!” He lowered the keg.
“Jay!” She took a few steps toward him, then stopped. Jameso was frozen in place. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked.
“Sure. Of course.” He shoved both hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m just surprised. I thought you were in Vermont.”
The woman pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, nostrils pinching, then flaring. “I’ve left Joe.” She glanced at the girl, who had hung back, though she kept making furtive glances in Jameso’s direction. “It’s a long story. Jay, I’m just so glad to see you. I’ve been asking around town and no one knew you. I—”
“Jay?” Olivia said.
“It’s Jameso now,” he said, his voice strained. “Jameso Clark.”
“You changed your name?” Sharon asked.
He put one hand on the bar, leaning on it. “It’s a long story.”
The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “I have all the time in the world. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Yeah.” Olivia copied the woman’s pose. “Why don’t you tell us?”
Chapter 2
“Everything is going to be fine. You don’t have to worry about anything.” Barb shifted her Escalade into second gear as she cruised down the steep hill into town.
“Liar.” Maggie rested her hands on her bulging belly and felt the baby—Jameso insisted on calling it the Stowaway—kick. So far she’d survived morning sickness, fatigue, cravings, swollen ankles, and indigestion, but whether she’d live through a wedding, a new husband, and a new baby was debatable. “I have plenty to worry about, starting with the fact that Jameso and I don’t have a place to live after we’re married.”
“I don’t know why you don’t move in with Jameso. Or keep your place and have him move in with you.”
“My lease expires June fifteenth and the landlord wants me out so he can collect double the rent from summer tourists. And Jameso’s place doesn’t have room for a baby.”
“A baby doesn’t need a lot of room, at least not at first.” Barb shifted again and guided the SUV past Living Waters Hot Springs. Steam rose from behind the wooden fence that blocked a view of the clothing-optional hot springs from the road.
“I need for us to find a place to start life together that’s just ours,” she said. “Call me crazy, but I want a bedroom that Jameso has not already shared with half a dozen other women previously. And a kitchen with a stove that works—Jameso’s doesn’t.”
“That’s what you get for falling for the town Casanova.” Barb grinned. “Though I like to think Jameso was with all those other women because he was looking for you. Once you came into his life, bam! Instant monogamy.”
Maggie snorted and plucked at nonexistent lint on the front of her maternity top. “I know he loves me and I love him. I just hate that everything’s so unsettled. I don’t have a baby bed, or half the things I’ll need for the kid, because there’s no place to put them. I don’t even have a wedding dress, because I don’t know what size I’ll be a month from now. Plus, I can’t get excited about waddling down the aisle, the size of a whale.”
“You’re the one who wanted to wait until spring to get married,” Barb said. “I told you you were cutting it close.”
“Now I’m wondering if we shouldn’t wait until after the baby is born.”
“Jameso will never go for that. It’s all I can do to keep him from dragging you off to the justice of the peace now.”
Maggie sighed. “I know. He’s not a patient person. But he’s trying. This is all a big change for him.” For a man who’d avoided responsibility for years, Jameso had embraced the prospect of being a husband and father with touching resolve. He made Maggie believe he would have mo
ved mountains for her—so why was she so reluctant to buy a wedding dress and say her vows?
“Maybe I’ll buy a dress and surprise you,” Barb said. “Consider it a wedding gift.”
Maggie glanced at her friend. A former beauty queen, Barb had aged well, thanks to a combination of good genes and the money to afford the best salons, trainers, and plastic surgeons. At forty, she still turned heads wherever they went. Maggie ought to have been jealous, but Barb was unfailingly generous and had excellent taste. “While you’re at it, find us a house, too.”
“What does the real-estate agent say?”
“That everything in our price range needs too much work or is too far from town.”
“There’s always your dad’s cabin.”
Maggie laughed, a short, surprised bark that held no real mirth. The one-room miner’s shack perched high on Mount Garnet had no electricity except solar, no heat except for a wood stove, and no access to the house in winter except a snowmobile. She’d lived there when she first came to Eureka after her dad, Jake Murphy, left the place to her in his will. But it was no place for an infant. “Now who’s crazy?”
“I’m sure pioneer women raised children in worse conditions,” Barb said.
“I am not a pioneer woman.”
“Maybe not, but you’ve certainly blazed a few new trails since you left Houston. The old Maggie would never have chopped her own firewood and snowshoed to the neighbor’s house in a blizzard, or half the things you’ve done here.”
She shrugged. “That’s just life in a small mountain town.” It wasn’t a life she’d ever imagined herself living, until she’d come to Eureka to view her inheritance and learn more about her dad. Back then, newly divorced, unemployed, and more than a little lost, the chance to live on her own and rely on her own strength for a while had been exactly what she’d needed. Finding Jameso and a place where she truly felt at home was a bonus.
“You’ve really blossomed here.” Barb patted her hand. “You’ll make a beautiful bride and a great mom. No worries, I promise.”
Neither woman spoke again as Barb turned onto Eureka’s main street. Lucille Theriot waved from the porch in front of her shop, Lacy’s. They passed the Eureka Miner, the newspaper where Maggie worked, and the library where Cassie Wynock reigned like a not-so-benevolent despot. So many familiar people and places. To think a year ago Maggie had been a stranger to them all, and now they were like family.
She had new friends, a man who loved her, and the baby she’d always wanted on the way, so why didn’t she feel more settled? “I think part of me can’t believe I’ve been so lucky,” she said. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Let’s hope it’s one half of a lovely pair of Manolos.” Barb parked between the Last Dollar Cafe and the Dirty Sally Saloon.
“I just want to stop in and say hi to Jameso before we have lunch,” Maggie said.
“Of course you do.” Barb smiled. “And I need to let that handsome fiancé of yours know the wallpaperers are finished and he can install the shelves in the library at the B and B whenever he’s ready.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to hire a carpenter?” Maggie asked as she slid out of the Escalade. “I know you’re anxious to get the remodeling done, and Jameso’s schedule is kind of erratic.”
“That’s all right. I know he’ll do exactly what I want.”
“You mean, you like ordering him around.” The two women met on the sidewalk in front of the saloon.
Barb’s smile was enigmatic. “Maybe I just enjoy watching him work. He does know how to fill out a pair of jeans.”
Oh, yes. Jameso did do that. A brisk wind tugged at their clothes and Maggie tried to wrap her coat over her stomach, but it wouldn’t close. Was she ready for marriage to a man eight years younger who was better looking than she was?
This time of afternoon on a weekday the bar was far from busy. Bob Prescott nodded from his usual stool, and Olivia Theriot greeted them with a smile. “Hello, ladies. How are things?”
“We just stopped in to say hi.” Maggie scanned the bar for some sign of Jameso.
“He’s over there.” Olivia pointed toward a table by the front window, where Jameso sat with a dark haired woman and a young girl, their three heads close together in intense conversation.
“Oh.” Maggie hesitated. The tense expression on Jameso’s face—and the fact that he hadn’t yet acknowledged her—hinted that she shouldn’t interrupt.
But he must have felt her stare on him. He raised his head and met her gaze, and the tips of his ears reddened. “Maggie!” He half-rose from his chair.
She had no choice but to go over to him then. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Hello, dear.” She looked at the woman and the girl. They both stared at her, openmouthed. “I’m Maggie. Jameso’s fiancée.” She offered her hand.
“I’m Sharon.” The woman took her hand, her grasp weak. “I’m Jay—his—sister.” She looked tired—pale with gray shadows beneath her eyes. But the resemblance to Jameso was evident, in the point of her chin and the thick sable hair. The girl’s hair was only a shade lighter, and she had a dusting of freckles across her nose. “This is my daughter, Alina,” Sharon said.
“It’s good to meet you,” Maggie said, shaken but determined not to show it. “I’ve been curious to know more about Jameso’s family.” She’d known he had a sister, of course, but he’d told her they weren’t close and left it at that. She’d thought it better not to press for details. Jameso tended to clam up under pressure.
“It’s so funny to hear everybody calling him Jameso,” Alina said, then blushed.
“No one here calls him Jameson,” Maggie said. He’d explained that when a clerk at Telluride Ski Resort left the “n” off his name tag, the shortened version had stuck.
Sharon’s expression grew more strained. “He didn’t tell you he’d changed his name?”
“I really don’t think that’s important,” Jameso said.
“Changed your name?” Maggie studied him, but his expression was more guarded than ever. No answers there. She turned to Sharon again. “What did he change it from?”
“He was born Jay Clarkson.”
“I changed it when I got out of the army,” Jameso said. “I didn’t want any connection to that bas—to our father.” His eyes met Maggie’s, pleading for understanding. “My legal name now really is Jameson Clark.”
She nodded, feeling numb. The man she loved hadn’t been born with the name she’d always known him by—yet he hadn’t thought that was important enough to share with her?
“Hi, I’m Barb Stanowski.” Barb slid between Maggie and Sharon, and offered a dazzling smile. “I own a bed-and-breakfast here in town. Maggie and Jameso are helping me with some remodeling. What brings you to Eureka?”
“I wanted to see my brother.” Sharon glanced at Jameso, who was staring at the floor between his toes, ignoring all the women around him. “And I’m thinking of relocating here.”
“Oh? From where?” Barb asked.
Sharon didn’t answer. Alina gave her mother a puzzled look. “We were in Vermont,” she said. “My dad and brother are still there.”
Maggie guessed there was a story there. She wondered if she’d ever hear it—or did keeping secrets run in Jameso’s family?
“Listen, why don’t you head on out to the house and get settled and we’ll talk later.” Jameso fished his keys out of his jeans pocket and worked his house key off the ring. “Head out of town on County Road Four and take the second left. Turn right on Pickax and it’s the third house on the right.”
“The one painted lavender,” Maggie said.
“If they stay at your house, where are you going to stay?” Barb asked.
His ears reddened again. “I thought I’d stay with Maggie.”
Everyone looked at her. Even Bob and Olivia had fallen silent, openly eavesdropping. She took a deep breath. For better or worse, right? Even though she and Jameso hadn’t said their vows yet, t
hey were going to have a baby together—and she knew a thing or two about complicated family relations, so she ought to cut him some slack.
“Sure,” she said. “He’s over there all the time anyway.” She patted his shoulder and felt some of the stiffness go out of those hard muscles. “I live right next door, in the green house.”
“Cute,” Alina said. She, at least, didn’t seem too put off by the awkwardness between the adults. “When’s your baby due?”
“The first week in June.” Maggie smiled at the girl. She looked about twelve or thirteen. What did she think of being dragged across the country to a town in the middle of nowhere, to see an uncle she hadn’t seen in more than a few years?
“When’s the wedding?” Sharon asked. She addressed the question to Jameso, but he looked to Maggie.
“The first week in June,” Maggie said.
“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?” Sharon asked.
“It’s going to be a beautiful wedding,” Barb said. “At my B and B. Right before my grand opening. I’ll be sure you get an invitation, of course.” She put one arm around Alina and the other around Sharon. “I was just on my way out to Maggie’s place. You can follow me and I’ll show you where Jameso lives and you can get settled in. I’m sure you’re going to love it here.”
“What about Jameso and Maggie?” Alina asked. “Maybe they want to come with us.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Barb’s gaze met Maggie’s, a look that telegraphed I’ve got this. Maggie almost smiled. “I’m sure they have a lot to talk about.”
She escorted mother and daughter out of the saloon and suddenly it was quiet enough Maggie imagined she could hear the ice melting in the untouched glasses of water on the table. She moved to a chair and sat, hands folded across her stomach. “So.” She looked up at Jameso. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”
Lucille Theriot couldn’t remember now why she’d wanted to be mayor of Eureka. Something about civic improvement—and maybe a challenge made to her after too many glasses of wine. Whatever the reason, after almost five years on the job, she had begun to feel she remained in the position because she was too stubborn to leave. She had a dangerous need to fix things and leave them better. Since small towns always had problems, she could never comfortably leave office.
