by Gloria Doty
“Wait…just wait a minute. We can surely overcome her objections somehow, can’t we?” Allie asked the group. “Let’s tear this apart and work on one aspect at a time.”
Camille sat down and let them discuss all possibilities, knowing they would never be able to convince her to do this. She couldn’t leave town for six months…or could she? It might be a nice adventure. She could see herself with her laptop, writing while enjoying the beaches in California or Florida or anywhere sunny and warm. Still, could she stay out of the loop and not contact anyone for that long? Who could she trust enough to run things?
She was pulled out of her reverie by Allie’s voice. “Doesn’t your mother own a house in Montana, Camille?”
She nodded. “Yes, she does but she’s never there. She spends nearly all her time in Paris.”
“Perfect!” was the reply from several staffers.
“Wait! Just wait a minute. I don’t even speak to my mother and you want me to nonchalantly say, ‘Oh, gee, Mom, can I live in your house for half a year?’”
They ignored her objection and continued as though she hadn’t spoken.
“Now we need to find you a new identity. It shouldn’t be too difficult; fake drivers’ licenses are easily obtained. You can use one of your pictures from several years ago when you had blond hair and we can make up a great profile for you. You’ve been saying you need some time away since Will is home all day, every day and getting on your last nerve. And since he is home, he can house-sit for you. See? Problem solved.”
“Don’t you think the person I meet…if I do meet someone…is going to notice I’m not exactly forty-five as I was when I was a blond? I mean, come on…that was ummm…several years ago.” She grinned, unwilling to tell them she was now 56. She never thought of herself as being 56 years old, so why admit it?
CHAPTER 6
“WHERE’S THE OWNER of this thriving establishment?” Ken, one of the regulars, yelled to Mitch, who was working behind the bar. He said it with a good-humored grin on his scruffy face, as he teased Jace unmercifully on most days.
“He took a few days off to ride up in the mountains. Said he needed some time alone with his horses and solitude,” Mitch replied.
Ken laughed as he filled his cup from the ever-present morning coffee pot on the bar. “I call BS. He just didn’t want to see another day with all the empty chairs and tables in here. I told him how to fix that problem but he wouldn’t take my advice.”
Maggie emerged from the back room. “Yeah, well, somehow I don’t think installing poles for pole dancers is the atmosphere Jace was going for, Ken.”
“Maybe not but he needs to do something to catch the attention of all the potential customers living in “New Bozeman.” They’re the ones with the big bucks and they don’t mind parting with all that jingle in their pockets if you offer ‘em the right entertainment.”
To the long-time residents of Bozeman, the influx of wealthy residents had created an entire community of shopping malls, condominiums and larger ski slopes. Many of them drove big luxury vehicles as opposed to the pickup trucks driven by most of the inhabitants of the original town. There was a huge discrepancy of lifestyle between the two sides of the town. Hence, they were referred to as ‘Old Bozeman’ and ‘New Bozeman.’ In fact, the native Montanans referred to the newbies as BozAngeles. There was no mistaking the disdain in the voices of the locals when they spoke of the residents of New Bozeman, even though the money they brought in certainly helped the local economy. It was a two-edged sword and always a topic for discussion and argument.
Before Ken returned to his table to join the ‘regulars’ who gathered there every morning, he took Maggie’s hand in his and told her, “You know, my dear, I would be more than happy to take you away from this and treat you like a queen.”
Maggie shook her head and pushed him away. “Ken, you old coot. You know that’s never gonna happen so why don’t you give it up? You’ve been telling me that for all the years I’ve worked here and we all know it just gives you and the ‘gang’ something to imagine.”
One of the other men at the table, volunteered, “Ya know, Ken, I bet if you was as young and as handsome as Jace, she’d jump right over that bar to be in your arms.”
The raucous laughter filled the entire room. It was a good thing there were no real customers there yet. Maggie knew they had placed bets on the date she would finally get Jace in bed and she didn’t care. It was all talk and banter and gave them something to do but one thing she did know…Jace needed a woman in his life. Even though she wished it would be her, she didn’t foresee that happening. The last time she saw Jace happy was when he thought he was in love with that crazy woman from California…Lorna. She fawned all over him until she realized the bar wasn’t the gold mine she initially thought it was. Then she dumped him and literally broke his heart. No one could figure out what he saw in her besides the fact she was beautiful. There was no kindness or sweetness or even morals, as far as Maggie could tell. Lorna was rude and condescending to everyone unless Jace was with her. Then she dripped sweetness like honey. It didn’t matter…she was gone and that was good, but he needed someone.
Turning to Mitch and talking in low tones so the others couldn’t hear, she asked, “What do you think of the idea of signing Jace up on a dating site? He would certainly get to meet some women that way.” As an afterthought, she added, more to herself than Mitch. “Who could resist that face?”
Mitch nearly dropped the glass he was drying. “Are you kidding me? He would never go for that, Maggie.”
“Well, we’re not going to tell him, Silly. Let’s just give it a whirl, Mitch. What’s he going to do if he gets upset? Fire us?” She looked around at the six or seven tables with paying lunch customers and stated matter-of-factly, “I don’t think we’re going to be employed much longer anyway.”
CHAPTER 7
THERE WERE A million details to take care of before Camille could begin her six-month ‘sojourn in the wilderness’ as she referred to her upcoming vacation in Montana. She had flown over it many times but never actually set foot on terra firma in the state. Allie was flooding her with brochures and links to information so she could acquaint herself with ‘all things Bozeman’ and would appear to have lived there for at least a few years.
The thought of contacting her mother sent chills of foreboding coursing through her body. Asking for a favor from Barbara was more painful than any of the other tasks she was assigned by her staff. She and her mother rarely spoke or had any contact with the exception of the perfunctory Christmas greetings and gifts exchanged on birthdays.
“How exactly did you and your mother grow so far apart?” Allie asked as they were sharing dinner and a few glasses of wine one evening after work. It was a rare occasion when Camille left the office early on a Friday but she felt as though she needed to let her hair down a bit before she left St. Louis for six months. She invited Allie to join her so they could finalize a few of the details of the magazine.
One of those details was to remove Camille’s picture from the inside front page where it always accompanied a short blurb she wrote about the feature articles in that month’s issue. For the next six months, the page would simply have her name and her title: Owner and Editor-in-Chief. The online dating articles she submitted would merely have a by-line with her newly assigned fake name, Emily Hasbro.
Camille gazed into her glass while she slowly swirled the red liquid in a circle, trying to articulate an answer to Allie’s question. “Well, Allie, my friend, it happened like this: I refused to sell the magazine and do something productive…as she called it…with my life. Barbara hates it when anyone crosses her and especially, if that someone is a product of her body, as she reminded me quite often.” Before Allie could say a word, Camille continued, talking to herself. “That statement always made me laugh because I’m not sure if she wanted me to know she suffered great pain while birthing me or if she wanted me to know that she actually had sex with a man
at some point in her life…presumably, my father, although I’ve never met him.”
Allie wasn’t sure how to respond to that information so she opted to stick with the safer stuff.
“But, I don’t understand. Surely owning and running one of the best women’s magazines is considered something productive.”
“Not if it isn’t the biggest and best women’s magazine. Mavis’ Mag is a small fish in a big pond and I like it that way. As you know, our distribution area is tiny compared to the major players in the magazine world. My mother, because of her mother and grandmother, had a lot of pull or influence at some of the major publishing houses and nationally distributed magazines. She insisted I take a position with one of them. She constantly reminded me of the status of Mavis’ Mag and how, without her monetary help, it would flounder and fail. She said it was a dying rag and no woman wanted to read anything written for ‘old people.’ I’m convinced she wanted me and the magazine to fail. I was young and cocky and absolutely certain I could make it successful, so I told her to take her money and her influence and jump off a bridge with them.” After a short pause, she continued, “It’s been a long time, but I may have even said I hoped her money would weigh her down when she jumped and she would drown.”
Allie’s eyes had grown bigger with each sentence. “Well, I suppose that explains the distance between the two of you.”
Camille laughed out loud. “Yep, I believe you could assume that. Now you know how reluctant I am to ask for the keys to her house.”
Allie sighed. She had never known all those facts before. Camille rarely was that talkative, especially about her personal life. It must be the wine tonight. “I suppose we could rent a place for you to live. I just thought it would be so much simpler if it could be an established address and…you know”…her voice trailed off.
“Don’t look so defeated, Allie. I never said I wouldn’t do it. I’m just trying to figure out what cock-and-bull story I’m going to feed her. And then there’s the story I’m going to give Will. That will at least have to be plausible. I mean, he may be infuriating but he isn’t stupid.”
They finished their dinner and after enough time elapsed for the effects of the alcohol to wear off and make it safe to drive, they each went home.
When Camille entered the front hallway, she thought she heard noises coming from the living room. Moving in that direction, she was caught off guard by the sight of Will and some woman quickly standing up from their previous positions on the couch…which she assumed were horizontal before she interrupted. She was just happy they were both fully clothed.
“Camille…” Will said, sounding surprised. “I…we…didn’t expect you home so early. You usually work late on Friday evenings.”
“Usually is such a misunderstood word, isn’t it, Will?”
She crossed the few steps to where they were standing and extended her hand to the flustered younger woman. “Hello. I’m Camille, Will’s housemate. And your name is?”
The buxom blond with her make-up now smudged, ignored the proffered hand and quickly bent over to pick up her shoes. “I’d better be going. It’s getting late and you have to be at work early tomorrow, right, Will? Isn’t that what you told me?”
Camille said nothing but raised an eyebrow in Will’s direction, waiting for his response to that statement. When he said nothing, she decided to alleviate the awkwardness and agree. “Yes, Will is a good employee. He always likes to be punctual when it comes to his employment.”
Will walked toward the front door, almost pushing the woman in front of him, while quickly calling a cab. They waited in the front hall and unfortunately spoke in such low voices, Camille couldn’t overhear the conversation. It was okay. She really didn’t care what they were saying anyway.
When Will came back into the room, Camille was sitting in the recliner with her shoes kicked off. She offered her take on his evening. “Dinner…one-hundred bucks, wine…fifty bucks, cab…thirty bucks…but the expression on your face when I walked in…priceless.”
Will was not amused. “Camille, you are unbelievable. You can wreck any and all of my dates without even trying, it seems.”
He flopped down on the couch and stretched out. “Yes, the evening was expensive and now it is money down the drain.”
“In other words, you spent all that cash and didn’t even get her into bed…is that what you’re telling me? Maybe you should have spent a bit more and rented a nice hotel room. You can’t blame me for coming home. I do live here, you know.”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I met Lorna several months ago and we seemed to click. She’s involved with stocks and bonds and money trading in California. She was in town for a convention and a friend introduced us. I thought perhaps she could help me find a position with the firm she works for. I told her I was thinking of changing jobs. I didn’t exactly tell her I was unemployed at the moment.”
“So ask her out again and don’t bring her here this time.”
“She’s going home tomorrow morning. I’ll probably never see her again.”
They were both silent for a while. Finally, Camille spoke.
“Do you remember Allie, my assistant editor? You met her last year at the Christmas party. She’s beautiful, lots of fun, witty and single, and the best part is I think she has a crush on you.”
Will perked up a bit but then asked, “And she’s like twenty, right?”
Camille laughed. “No, she is not. I believe she is thirty-five. That’s perfect for a good-looking fifty-year-old man like you. Why don’t I set you up with her? You could forget about your ‘Lorna’ from California.” She paused for a minute, then continued, “That sounds like a song title or something, doesn’t it?”
“Go to bed, Camille. You’ve had too much wine tonight. I’d love to take advantage of that fact but I won’t since I’m pretty sure I’d get shot or knifed or poisoned or something equally lethal.”
“Yes, of course…especially since I don’t own a gun or a knife. Although, there is that bottle of arsenic I keep for just such occasions.”
As she climbed the stairs, she told him. “I have something I need to talk to you about in the morning, Will.”
CHAPTER 8
THE TWO DAYS spent in the mountains with his horses and the wildlife were idyllic and passed too quickly, in Jace’s opinion. If it was possible, he would spend the rest of his days there and never go home but that was, of course, improbable and impossible. He never saw himself as the hermit type, but in the last few years, he was becoming more and more reclusive. It wasn’t a good thing and he knew it, but there didn’t seem to be anyone or anything that interested him. He had enough psychology courses in college to recognize growing depression and the devastating effects it can have on a person.
As he saddled the horses, he spoke to himself and to them, “It’s a good thing you two are here with me. Otherwise, I’d be talking to myself and then I would really be in trouble.” He laughed at his own joke, finished packing and called the dog. “Is everything ready, Jake? I’ve cleaned camp, got our little bit of garbage with me, packed our few supplies for the trip home and have a thermos of coffee. Okay, fellas, let’s roll…no, let’s ride. We’ll take it nice and slow and enjoy this last trip with you, Jasper.”
Jace knew the fact that he would be surrendering his horse was definitely adding to his despair. They had been together for years and it would be akin to cutting off his arm. It helped to know that Cal Frasier was a man of his word and would never re-sell Jasper. If he were still a praying man, he would ask God to provide some way to fund the long trip to Texas. He still had some resources but didn’t want to use his last bit of funds to make a non-paying trip.
He hadn’t turned his phone on in the two days he was gone but as he got closer to home, he did and although he usually didn’t have many e-mails, his inbox seemed to be overflowing with messages. “What the heck?’ he muttered aloud. “I don’t recognize any of these names.”
He opened a fe
w and read the messages. They all seemed to be from females who wanted him to contact them. His account must have been hacked. Great.
When Jace walked into The Branding Iron he was pelted with a chorus of greetings.
“Hey, look who’s back,” Ken called out. “The wandering cowboy.”
Ralph, another regular, hailed him with the news they had all taken good care of the bar in his absence.
“Somehow, that isn’t exactly comforting to me, Ralph.” Jace shot back.
He seated himself at the bar and called Maggie over. “You’re much more of a techie than I am and know more about that stuff than I do. I’ve obviously been hacked. Can you help me with changing my password and all that?”
“What makes you think you were hacked, Boss?” she asked while trying to keep from smiling.
“What’s so funny?” Jace asked. He noticed all eyes were on him and everyone seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. The problem was he didn’t know what the first shoe was.
“I’ll tell you why I think that. My phone is full of emails from women I don’t even know. Is this your idea of a joke, Maggie?”
“Oh, Jace…it isn’t a joke. It’s our feeble attempt to get some life back into you. We’re tired of seeing you moping around all the time. I signed you up on a dating site. You can fire me if you want, but you need a woman in your life and you simply won’t choose the one woman who is available and wants you…namely me. I’m not saying you need to get serious or marry someone but for heaven’s sake, you can surely go to dinner or a movie and enjoy a woman’s company.” She ran her hand along his arm, hoping it might reawaken some manly feelings and asked in a sultry voice, “You haven’t forgotten how enjoyable a woman’s company can be, have you?”
