Though it was already October, his skin was still tanned and dark. A man of the outdoors, she thought, watching as his large hands deftly wound the bandages around her finger.
Their eyes met, and as the moment lengthened Vivienne felt as if time slipped backward.
Once again they were two teenagers standing on the parking lot as a question hovered between them. Would she?
What would her life have been like if she had said yes to him all those years ago? Would she be feeling as empty as she felt now in spite of all her accomplishments? Her supposed drive to be the best chef she could be?
Or would she have sold herself short, dating a cowboy? Missing out on opportunities?
She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and she wondered if he was as affected by her as she was by him.
“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” he said, his voice gruff.
“But will I be able to play the violin?” she asked, grabbing for an old, tired joke to diffuse the situation.
He cleared his throat and wrapped some tape around her fingers. “Not right away, but maybe once your fingers heal.”
“That’s great, because I never could before.”
Cody gave her a wry look. “Walked right into that one,” he said.
“I’ve always wanted to use that but never had a chance.”
He pressed down the last bit of tape and finally released her hand. “Glad I could be your straight man.” He stepped back as if creating a distance for himself, as well. “High school all over again.”
She frowned at the reference. “What do you mean by that?”
He shrugged, giving her a wry grin. “I know I was just a joke to you then.”
“No…you weren’t.”
Cody released a light laugh. “C’mon, Vivienne. You were a Clayton. So much a part of the history of the town you had the same name. Me? I was just a Jameson. Parents always gone. Always barely getting by financially.”
Vivienne cradled her throbbing hand in her other hand. “What makes you think my life was so different from yours just because I had a history in this town? My father died when I was a teenager, and my mother never got past that. We always just got by, as well.”
“But your grandfather—”
“Never gave us a red cent.” She couldn’t stop the burst of anger accompanying those words. “Why do you think he’s giving us this money now that he’s gone? Because he felt guilty about how he treated the people in his life—his own family—right up until the end. As far as I can see, this inheritance is too little, too late.”
“I wouldn’t call a quarter of a million dollars and five hundred acres of deeded land too little,” Cody said as he cleaned up the papers from the bandaids.
Vivienne realized how petty she sounded. “It is a lot of money. And don’t think I’m not appreciative. But even in spite of his generosity, he still has to be the one with the final say. Still has to manipulate even from the grave.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll only get the money if all the cousins come home by Christmas and everyone sticks around for a year. So far, Brooke, Zach and Arabella seem to be settled enough. But Mei and Lucas are the wild cards. They don’t show up, none of us get any of it.” Vivienne pushed back a quiver of fear at the thought that Mei, who so often felt as if she wasn’t a part of this family, and Lucas, who had always gone his own way, wouldn’t be there. “They don’t show up and stick around, then I’ve just wasted a year hanging around here.”
“Is that what you think staying around Clayton would be? A waste?”
As he spoke, Vivienne felt the old fear rise up. Fear of staying in Clayton, stuck in the endless rut of barely getting by. Always wondering if something better was happening somewhere else. Something more exciting, more interesting.
“This town is dying, Cody,” she said quietly. “I don’t see a lot of future for it.”
“Your money could help,” he replied.
“How?”
“The town needs new businesses, new capital injected into it. We could use a decent store. We get tourists coming through, but they never stop. Nothing to stop for.”
Vivienne felt a tiny glimmer as he spoke, thinking of possibilities. But she shook them off. She had her plans and she had to stick with them.
“I can’t see that anything I could do could help this town. I’ve had goals and dreams ever since I left this place that I have invested time and money into.”
“So there’s no way you’d stick around here.” Cody’s comment came out as more of a statement than a question, but as their eyes met, she felt it again. That glimmer of attraction hearkening back to older emotions and a younger self.
The moment lingered. She wanted to look away and break a connection that could create problems for her. This was not in her plans.
She tore her gaze away from his and, turning away from him, ignored the throbbing in her hands and finished putting the bread pudding together, then she set it in the oven. “Clayton only holds bad memories for me. Even if I don’t get the money, I’m out of here as soon as possible.”
The silence following her pronouncement held weight, and for a moment she regretted being so blunt.
But it was the truth, and if she wanted to keep her eye on the prize, she knew she had to stick with the plan no matter what.
Cody took a breath, as if he was about to say something, then he turned and left. As the door fell shut behind him Vivienne felt as if some life force had gone with him.
She shook it off and, ignoring the stinging in her fingers, started cleaning up the kitchen. It shouldn’t matter to her what he thought of her.
But somehow, even as she tried to convince herself of that, another tiny voice told her she was lying.
“So I hear Vivienne’s cooking for you now.” Billy Dean Harris wiped the grease off his hands as he and Cody walked toward the front of Art Krueger’s mechanic shop. Billy worked at the shop when he felt like it, and when he needed ready cash. “Bet that’s kind of handy for you. What with the way you used to like her and all,” he said with a broad wink.
“That was a long time ago,” Cody said.
“Yeah, and oh, of course, you were married before.” Billy shoved the towel in the back pocket of stained overalls straining against his protruding stomach. Then he pulled the keys off a large board with hooks that held the key rings of the other vehicles awaiting service at the shop. “Though it was a shame about Tabitha. Guess she wasn’t cut out for ranch living. Not many women are. You want a coffee?” Cody glanced at the dusty coffeemaker perched on a sagging shelf below the keyboard, mugs set upside down beside it. “No, thanks.”
Billy Dean dropped Cody’s keys on the counter and then rested his elbows there, as if settling in for a chat. “My Marsha could never live out on the ranch. ’Course, Marsha was as amazed as I was to hear that uppity Vivienne could. Girl was always too fancy for her blue jeans. I’m surprised she’s willin’ to lower herself to cook on a ranch for a bunch of cowboys.”
“She needs the work,” Cody said, picking up the keys as he took a step away from the desk. He hoped Billy would get the hint. He had to go to the bank yet, meet Vivienne at the grocery store, then pick up his sister from school.
“Yeah, I hear she’s only stickin’ ’round long enough to get her paws on that money from her louse of a grandfather,” Billy Dean said, a sneer curling his lip. “Vivienne Clayton’s only got one thing on her mind—her grandpa George’s money—and what she’s gotta do to get her hands on it. Too bad there’s so many hoops those cousins got to jump through before they get it.” Billy gave Cody a quick grin. “A year is a long time. Lots could happen between now and then.”
Billy’s words came too close to his own feelings about Vivienne. “Thanks for doing the oil change on the truck on such short notice,” he said, ending the conversation.
“Tell Vivienne that her car won’t be ready tomorrow like we figgered. Boss needs to order in brake pads, and the
re’s been trouble with her brake lines and her tranny. Trouble is, she told us not to get new parts, so we’re scrounging around for a used one. The soonest we can get ’er done is couple of days.” Billy Dean pushed himself away from the counter. “And tell Bryce that I need to talk to him next time he has a chance to come to town.”
“I’ll pass the messages on.”
“And you make sure that Vivienne girl don’t get you wrapped around her little finger like she used to brag about when you was in high school.”
Cody wished he could ignore the snide words, but they slithered too close to his own insecurities when it came to Vivienne. Had she really thought that? Said that?
Forget it. That was then. This is now. He tossed off a wave and walked out of the shop.
He tried not to let Billy’s comments bother him as he drove away, but at the same time he knew Billy Dean was only speaking a truth Cody knew as clearly as anyone. Vivienne Clayton had told him herself. She was only staying around until she could collect the money.
Why did that bother him? She meant nothing to him. Yet he knew part of him had never completely forgotten Vivienne.
She’s a city girl, Cody reminded himself as he drove toward the grocery store. Tabitha was a city girl.
The thought of his wife made his gut twist with regret, pain and anger. Tabitha was a mistake he had no intention of repeating. Tabitha brought him nothing but pain and heartbreak.
He best remember that if he was having any foolish notions about one Miss Vivienne Clayton.
Because she was, in so many ways, exactly like his wife.
“Sure you can’t stay longer?” Brooke asked, her voice filled with regret.
Vivienne finished the last of her lemonade and set the glass on the tray on the table in front of the porch swing. The wooden swing hanging from chains attached to the verandah’s ceiling was a new addition to the family home. Brooke’s fiancé had installed it when Brooke had casually mentioned to him that she would love a porch swing. A few days later, there it hung. “I only have ten more minutes.” She also wished she didn’t have to rush away. It had been years since she’d been able to talk face-to-face with Brooke instead of over the phone or via e-mail. But duty called. “Cody is taking the groceries back to the ranch in his truck, and I want to go over the order with Les before he takes it away.”
Brooke pushed the swing with her toe, the chain squeaking just like it used to when they were little.
Memories flooded Vivienne as she glanced over the front lawn, now strewn with blocks and pails. Detritus from A.J. playing on the lawn until Brooke took him upstairs for a nap.
Lucy used to play on the lawn, too, Vivienne thought. The memory of their little sister, now passed away, created a soft ache deep in her heart. She hadn’t thought of Lucy since she left Clayton.
“I think your boss would forgive you if you batted your eyes harder and did that famous Vivienne hair toss,” Brooke said, pushing the swing again. “Plus, you have that sore finger. Could always use that.”
Vivienne rolled her own eyes. “Cody Jameson wouldn’t notice the hair toss, especially because I usually keep it tied up in a ponytail.” She glanced at the bandage on her finger, remembering that moment in the kitchen yesterday. When he bandaged it. When their faces were almost touching. “And I’m sure he hasn’t given my sore finger a second thought,” she added. “That man does nothing but work. I feel like something is bothering him.”
“He did lose his wife.”
Vivienne nodded, seeing once again the lines of weariness edging Cody’s mouth. He looked as if he was grieving a loss of some kind. “I think it’s more than that, but he’ll never tell me.”
Vivienne was about to say something more when a small car parked in front of Brooke’s house. “Are you expecting company?”
“Darlene asked if she could stop by with Macy,” Brooke said, getting to her feet and brushing the crumbs of the cookies off her khaki pants.
Darlene Perry got out of the car and leaned an arm on its roof. Her hair hung lanky down her back, and Vivienne could see that, in spite of her illness, at one time she had been a beauty.
“She looks so frail.” Vivienne spoke quietly, concerned. “Should she still be driving?”
“Zach says she’s fine to drive once in a while,” Brooke said as the other car door opened. Darlene’s daughter Macy bailed out of the car, her blond hair streaming behind her as she ran up the walk toward Brooke. The little girl’s vitality was a stark contrast to her mother, who was slowly making her way around the front of the car.
Brooke had told Vivienne about Darlene. How she was dying and concerned about leaving her daughter Macy behind with no family. Darlene had reached out to members of their family, asking them to be involved in Macy’s life. Vivienne felt sorry for Darlene, who as far as Vivienne knew, had no relatives in Clayton. Leaving Macy without family must be an ache in Darlene’s heart, Vivienne thought. Though she wondered why Darlene had singled out their family to connect with.
Brooke caught the little girl in a hug, and as she pulled away, Macy pushed her pink glasses back up her nose. “How was school today, Macy?” Brooke asked, kneeling down and getting on the little girl’s level.
Macy’s only reply was a shrug, looking past Brooke to Vivienne. “Who’s that lady?” she asked, pointing.
Darlene had caught up to Brooke and Macy by then and gently pushed her daughter’s hand down. “It’s rude to point, honey,” she said quietly.
“But who is she?” Macy pressed.
“My name is Vivienne. I’m Brooke’s sister.” Vivienne came down the walk to meet them both.
Darlene brightened at that. “You’re the one who cooks?”
“I’m a trained gourmet chef, yes,” Vivienne said.
“I like to cook,” Macy piped up. “I can make hot chocolate and porridge. I just have to boil water.”
Vivienne smiled, thinking of Cody’s comment yesterday morning. It seemed instant porridge was a major food group in Clayton. “That’s a good start,” Vivienne said.
“I’ve always wanted to cook,” Darlene said, glancing down at her daughter. “But I’m not very good at it. I would love to be able to teach Macy, but I’m afraid that’s not happening.”
Brooke clapped her hands as if to dispel the sadness of the moment. “I have the best idea, Vivienne. Why don’t you hold a cooking class? On the ranch? I know I’d come. And Macy could come. And Jasmine. Arabella said Jasmine wants to take culinary classes when she and Cade move away after the wedding. This would be a great chance for her to try it out.”
Vivienne tried to imagine what Cody would think of this horde of women descending on his ranch. “I just started there. I’m not sure my boss would appreciate it.” But even as she spoke, she glanced at Macy, who was looking at her with wide eyes, a dimple teasing one cheek.
“I’d love to learn to cook,” she said, a note of yearning in her voice.
And that sealed the deal. Vivienne would find a way to make this happen. With children who were hurting, there was an unspoken rule that if it was possible to grant a wish, an adult had the responsibility to do so.
“Okay. I’ll talk to Cody,” she said, “But don’t expect too much,” she said. A quick glance at her watch made her jump. “I gotta get going,” she said. She gave Brooke a quick hug, tossed off a wave to Darlene and then slung her purse over her shoulder.
She strode down the street she had been born and raised on, the chill in the air reminding her that winter was coming and coming soon.
She breathed in the fresh air of moldering leaves and damp dirt as she hurried across the street, then skirted the park. Leaves fluttered down as she walked, old memories mingling with the present. How often had she, Brooke and Zach run down this street, heading toward school, coats wide open, scarves trailing behind them as their mother called out from the porch to zip up their coats. Life had been hard after their father died. But she and her family still had good times, as well.
She let the memories surface. She remembered a few random visits from her grandfather. The occasional gift he’d send their way.
Now, if everything went well, she would receive a whole lot more than just miniature cake pans she could bake with. She would get a chance at a new life. At starting her own restaurant. Controlling her own life as her mother had always pushed her to.
A car honked as it passed her and Vivienne waved, recognizing an old school friend. As she walked past the Cowboy Café, Kylie knocked on the window and waggled her fingers at her.
The grocery store, just across Barn Owl Road, was busy when she got there. When she stepped inside, the ringing of the cash register mingled with the voices of people chatting as they waited to be served. It sounded like home, she thought, glancing around the bright interior of the grocery store.
A young woman, pushing a grocery cart laden with plastic bags and holding a toddler on her hip, shot her a smile and greeted her by name as she passed her. Vivienne was sure she knew her, but she couldn’t pull a name out fast enough.
For a moment, Vivienne was glad to be back in Clayton. Back to a place where everybody knew you and knew your name. Where people really cared about each other. New York City had an energy, an excitement, but she hadn’t found community there like she had here growing up.
“So, one by one the Clayton kiddies are coming home to roost.”
The raspy voice of her aunt Katrina broke into Vivienne’s thoughts, and as she turned, Vivienne caught a strong whiff of cigarette smoke emanating from her aunt’s jacket.
Aunt Katrina stood beside her, an empty grocery basket hanging from one thin arm, her red hair sticking out in sharp spikes. She wore a pink silky jacket over a black lace shirt and purple leggings that did nothing for her knobby knees. Her green eyes glanced up and down at Vivienne’s dress, then gave her niece a broad smile. “New York’s been ever so good to you, honey. You look like a million dollars.” Then she laughed. “Or should I say a quarter of a million?”
The Cowboy's Lady Page 6
