Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2)

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  “But anyway, it’s all taken care of and I’m at the hotel,” she finished.

  Dotty’s lips pinched together in disapproval. “Well, I trust you will make sure there are no other hiccups. I know Miss Snow Valley is a not a large pageant, but Joyce Drake is one of my oldest friends and I want her to be happy.”

  Cameron nodded vigorously. “No problem; I can handle it.”

  “Check in with me tomorrow,” Dotty ordered and hung up. Dotty was not big on goodbyes. Or hellos for that matter.

  Cameron put the phone on the cherry wood nightstand covered with a handmade doily, and tried to feel a sense of relief. Whether in person or over the phone, talking with Dotty always intimidated her.

  But the relief didn’t come and she knew why. Her fault or not, she had failed. The plan was to meet the Drakes tonight and now there was a tiny black mark on her record. Because of today, she would have to work extra hard to earn their confidence.

  She took a shower and changed into her pajamas, then settled into bed with her tablet. She pulled up her Snow Valley pageant schedule and looked at it with distaste. She should probably spend an hour or so brushing up on the details of the pageant and the Drakes, but work was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. She checked her phone one last time to find another email from Dotty, sent ten minutes ago. Cameron didn’t open it.

  There were no emails from Trent. They’d only been out a few times and things hadn’t exactly clicked between them. He must be giving up on her. Not a big loss, but still, the rejection stung a little.

  Chapter 2

  It wasn’t until the next morning that Cameron realized she’d forgotten to pack deodorant.

  “Seriously?” she groaned as she rummaged through her suitcase. “Who forgets deodorant?”

  She’d planned to spend the morning prepping, but now she’d have to find a store. She hurried to finish dressing in a business suit of soft gray paired with a white button down shirt and silver jewelry. The suit was her favorite, the jacket lengthened her torso and curved slightly at the hips, accentuating her hourglass figure. The pencil skirt hit just the right spot to make her legs look slimmer, especially with high heels. One good thing about being short, she thought as she slipped on a pair of gray shoes with four inch heels.

  Downstairs smelled heavenly and Cameron peeked into the dining room to see a full breakfast on the table including pancakes, hash browns, sausages, biscuits and several types of juice.

  “Good morning, dear, did you sleep well?” Rayna asked as she arranged napkins.

  “Yes, thanks,” Cameron replied. “Can you tell me where to find a grocery store?”

  “That’ll be Dove’s,” Rayna said. “It’s down Main Street, you can’t miss it. But won’t you have some breakfast before you go?”

  A strawberry crepe piled high with whipped cream sounded awesome, but deodorant had to come first.

  Cameron shook her head. “I don’t have time, but it looks wonderful.”

  ***

  Her meeting with the Drakes was scheduled for nine o’clock. Once in the car, Cameron punched their address into her phone and was glad to see an estimated travel time of fifteen minutes. She’d have plenty of time to stop at the store.

  But after a few miles, she encountered a herd of cattle blocking the road. “You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered as she slowed the car to a crawl. The cattle were red and white and there were some with pretty impressive horns. They moved slowly down the road, bawling and snorting at the cars creeping by. Two cowboys on horses rode behind the herd, guiding them with the help of several dogs, who ran nipping at any cow who dared to get out of line.

  Cameron checked the time. There had to be a limit to Joyce’s patience. She couldn’t afford to be late again.

  Just then, one of the cows decided to unload its bladder right next to her car.

  “Oh gross!” she hurried to roll up the window.

  Ten agonizing minutes later, the cowboys directed the herd off the road and through an open gate to a pasture. Cameron floored it the rest of the way to town. She had about three minutes to be in and out of Dove’s.

  Thank goodness it wasn’t a big store. She found the right aisle, grabbed a stick of deodorant, and hurried toward the checkout.

  There was only one lane open and two customers already in line. Could her luck get any worse? At least the two in front didn’t have many items. The way this trip was going, Cameron wouldn’t have been surprised to find herself behind overflowing carts and shoppers with huge stacks of coupons.

  She started toward the line just as a guy emerged from a nearby aisle. He was handsome … no, scratch that … he was very handsome. He’d obviously come from a workout and was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt that accentuated his athletic build. A baseball cap covered most of his hair and shadowed his eyes and he had a strong jawline, dusted with dark brown stubble. He carried a jug of orange juice and was about the same distance from the checkout stand from his side as she was on hers.

  They locked eyes and suddenly it was a game of chicken. Cameron chose punctuality over politeness. She raced forward, darting into line a step ahead of the guy, who had to make an abrupt stop to avoid crashing into her.

  “Hey! What the …” he exclaimed.

  Cameron kept her eyes forward and pretended not to hear. She felt extremely conscious of his stare on the back of her head as she set her deodorant on the conveyor belt.

  The red-headed clerk was taking her time, giving Cameron plenty of opportunity to absorb the awkwardness of the situation. She probably shouldn’t have cut him off, he was only buying one thing too. It wouldn’t have taken that much longer to step back and let him go first. Plus, maybe he would have done the same and then maybe they could have had a friendly conversation and then maybe …

  Stop it. She was here to work, and jumping in line to shave a few minutes off her schedule was exactly what Dotty would do.

  When her turn finally came, the clerk picked up the stick of deodorant and narrowed her eyes. “I think we’re running a sale on this brand,” she said. “Two for one, or half off a second stick, or something.”

  “It’s –” Cameron began, but the clerk was already reaching for the intercom.

  “Jake can you do a price check on Secret brand deodorant, shower fresh scent?” she boomed over the loudspeaker.

  The hot guy behind her snickered quietly and Cameron’s face flamed.

  “It’s fine,” she told the clerk more forcefully. “I’m in a hurry, I don’t care about the sale.” At least she wasn’t buying feminine products because that’s about the only way she could imagine the situation being worse.

  “You’re sure?” the clerk asked.

  “Absolutely,” Cameron nodded vigorously and hovered her debit card over the keypad impatiently.

  The girl ran the deodorant across the scanner. “Total is $3.48,” she said and Cameron swiped her card.

  “I don’t need a bag,” she said. Hastily she stuffed the deodorant and the receipt into her purse and raced toward the exit without a backward glance.

  ***

  Cameron hesitated when she pulled up beside the Drake’s house, a modest two story of brown brick and yellow siding. The lawn was freshly mowed and the flowerbeds were filled with yellow and white petunias. The concrete driveway was chipped and a well-used basketball hoop hung over the double garage.

  It wasn’t a small house, but it certainly wasn’t the type of place she expected to find people who could afford to hire a full-time pageant consultant all the way from Kentucky. Dotty must be giving Joyce a good discount.

  Not wanting to block the garage, Cameron parked at the curb and pulled the visor down to give her makeup one last check in the mirror. She’d pulled over earlier to apply the deodorant, there was no way she’d do that in front of a client’s house when someone could look out the window and see.

  … Or in the parking lot of the grocery store when the hot guy you’d just annoyed would be fol
lowing you out any minute.

  Chapter 3

  Cameron had barely pressed the bell when the door whisked open.

  “You must be Cameron. I’m Joyce.”

  Joyce Drake definitely fit Cameron’s idea of a former beauty queen. Tall and with long graceful limbs, she looked not quite as slender as she’d once been, but still quite trim for someone her age. Her shoulder-length silvery-blonde hair was parted on one side and bangs swept gracefully across her forehead. Her hazel eyes were large with traces of crow’s feet. She wore black slacks, a green silk blouse, and black ballet flats. Gold hoop earrings matched the gold bangles on her wrist.

  “Please come in,” she said. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

  “I apologize again for the trouble last night,” Cameron began, but Joyce waved it away.

  “Nonsense, it certainly wasn’t your fault. My husband and I went to Egypt last year and the airline lost his bag. Can you believe it took three days for them to get it to us? What a nightmare!”

  She closed the door and motioned for Cameron to follow. “Come into the dining room, I thought we could start with a light brunch.”

  A rather old fashioned crystal chandelier presided over the dining room, hanging above a long table set with expensive china. A platter of pastries, a basket of muffins, and a bowl of cut fruit was arranged in the middle of the table and a pitcher of milk and a coffee pot were at one end.

  A slender blonde girl was already seated, her shoulders hunched as her fingers flew over the keyboard of her phone.

  “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Cameron said.

  “No trouble at all,” Joyce insisted. “Annalisa, say hello to Cameron.”

  The girl looked up. Without a doubt, Annalisa Drake was one of the most beautiful people Cameron had ever seen. Her blonde hair hung in silky waves to the center of her back and her complexion was flawless. Her enormous eyes were a piercing green and Cameron prayed they’d had the good sense to go with a green evening gown. She suppressed a smile; this could be cake.

  “Um … hi,” Annalisa murmured and Cameron’s heart sank a fraction of an inch. Her voice was hesitant and soft and she wouldn’t maintain eye contact.

  “Why don’t you sit here,” Joyce pointed, then turned to her daughter. “Put that away, honey.”

  Annalisa obediently shoved her phone into the pocket of her jeans.

  Cameron took a seat and propped her computer bag against the leg of her chair. Mother and daughter were both looking at her expectantly and she forced a broad smile. “Thank you, I’m so happy to be here.” She reached to pull her binder from the bag.

  “Why don’t we talk business after we eat?” Joyce suggested smoothly and Cameron flushed; she should have thought of that. Quickly she dropped the binder and sat up straight.

  A door slammed and a male voice came drifting around the corner. “I absolutely hate tourist season. I had to wait forever at the gas station. And that was after some chick cut in front of me at Dove’s –” the owner of the voice came around the corner and Cameron’s stomach dropped.

  It was the hot guy from the grocery store. Because of course.

  They stared at each other. He’d ditched the ball cap and his wavy brown hair was a little messy, standing out with slightly more body beneath the unmistakable line circling his head where the hat had been. His blue eyes were flat and unfriendly.

  Joyce spoke up. “This is my son, Kyle. And Kyle, this is Cameron from the Westbrooke agency.”

  Kyle lifted his chin briefly in a greeting, then plunked the jug of orange juice – the orange juice he’d been buying at the store – on the table.

  “I thought you were going to shower,” Joyce muttered softly as he took a seat beside her.

  “Didn’t have time,” Kyle replied. “You said to hurry.” He gave Cameron another look before surveying the food-laden table and snagging an apple turnover from the plate of pastries.

  “Well, dig in, everyone,” Joyce said brightly.

  Cameron pressed her shaking hands together in her lap and tried to take a deep breath, without making it obvious she was trying to take a deep breath. Now there were two black marks on her record. She wasn’t very experienced at this, but she was pretty sure being rude to your client’s son was not the best way to start off a job. Awkward much?

  “Cameron, please eat something,” Joyce urged.

  Cameron’s stomach felt like lead, but she took a muffin and a small scoop of fruit. Annalisa also dished out fruit, but when she reached for a pastry, Joyce made a small sound in her throat and shook her head. Annalisa quickly dropped her hand.

  While they ate, Joyce launched into her personal history. She had been crowned Miss Snow Valley 1988, but had not been able to compete in the Miss Montana pageant. As she talked, it became obvious Joyce viewed losing out on Miss Montana as one of the biggest tragedies of her life.

  Cameron nibbled her muffin and tried to listen, but she was intensely aware of Kyle, sitting directly across the table. He paid no attention to his mother at all and his gaze moved between Cameron and Annalisa, who kept her head down while she picked at a square of watermelon with her fork.

  Cameron shifted her weight and her foot bumped Kyle’s leg. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “What?” Joyce broke off her monologue.

  “Nothing,” Cameron said quickly. “So you grew up in Snow Valley?”

  Joyce nodded. “I left for several years when I married Kyle’s father … which was a huge mistake … but after our divorce I moved back home and met Roger. He’s from Billings and is an attorney there. It’s a bit of a commute for him, but I couldn’t imagine living anywhere besides Snow Valley.” She gave a helpless little laugh and toyed with the gold bangles on her wrist.

  Cameron shot a glance at Kyle and noticed he was gripping his fork tightly, making the veins stand out on the back of his hand.

  “What about you, Annalisa? Have you had any pageant experience?” Cameron rushed to change the subject.

  “Yeah –” Annalisa began.

  “She competed in Miss Snow Valley last year, but didn’t place, and before that she did Junior Miss Snow Valley,” Joyce said. She reached for a scrapbook on the buffet behind her chair and presented it to Cameron. “We’ve never won, but we’ve come close. We’ve never had professional help before though, so I’m sure this is our year.”

  Cameron thumbed through the scrapbook, watching Annalisa grow up with each turn of the page. There were pictures before, during, and after the pageant. Walking the runway, answering an interview question, playing a violin … she went from a gawky twelve-year-old to the slightly younger version of the girl she was today.

  “Well, I believe you’re right,” Cameron said brightly when she’d finished with the scrapbook. “As I’m sure you know, Westbrooke is one of the leading pageant consulting agencies in the country and we have a long history of producing winners, from smaller local pageants like this one all the way up to Miss America and Miss Universe.”

  Kyle snorted. “Did you memorize that from the website?”

  “Kyle!” Joyce said, drawing a shocked breath.

  Cameron gave him a flinty stare. “Actually, I wrote that for the website,” she said, working to keep her tone neutral. Was he seriously holding a grudge because of what happened at the store?

  She handed the scrapbook back to Joyce, pulled her binder from the briefcase, and flipped to the tab marked Persona. Down to business. “What kind of a persona will you be projecting?” she asked Annalisa. “Have you had a chance to decide?”

  “Persona?” Annalisa looked confused.

  “Contestants score better when they project a consistent identity throughout the competition,” Cameron explained. “You could be sophisticated, sassy, innocent, brainy, cultured, educated, athletic —”

  “She’s not a Spice Girl,” Kyle said with tone.

  What was this guy’s problem?

  Cameron dug her nails into her palms. “Of course not. But a
dopting a persona has been proven to boost scores.”

  “Kyle’s teasing,” Joyce gave him a warning look. “A persona is a wonderful idea. What about sassy? Don’t judges usually like a girl with a bit of an edge?”

  “Perhaps,” Cameron hesitated. She could not see much in Annalisa that would point to sassiness. “Let’s go over the other elements of the competition and then we can revisit the persona,” she rushed ahead before anyone, most likely Kyle, could point out picking a persona had been her idea in the first place.

  “I’d like to get a sense of where we are with the various elements that make a successful pageant competitor – poise, modeling, interview, talent …” she ticked the items off on her fingers. “And then of course we’ll need to evaluate your wardrobe – evening gown, talent costume, swimsuit –”

  “There’s no swimsuit competition in the pageant,” Kyle grated.

  “Oh …” Cameron blushed. She’d read the three page pageant guide Joyce sent to the agency and there was nothing in it about swimming suits, or the lack thereof. She’d assumed as a precursor to the Miss Montana pageant, which was itself a precursor to the Miss America pageant, there would be a swimsuit portion. She did not miss the small smile Annalisa gave her brother, or his wink in return. Oh great. Were they ganging up on her?

  “It’s called fitness,” Joyce said quickly, shooting daggers at Kyle. “The girls wear exercise clothes instead of bathing suits.”

  “Okay,” Cameron shuffled her paperwork, trying to regain control of the situation. “What about the rest of the wardrobe?”

  “Everything should be ready except the costume for the opening number. Melodee McGrath is in charge and obviously needs a lesson in taste,” Joyce sniffed. “Annalisa’s was simply awful on her.”

  “It wasn’t that bad, Mom,” Annalisa mumbled.

  “Well, it wasn’t that good either,” Joyce countered. “But don’t worry, I asked Tracie to make alterations so it will fit like a glove.”