by Judy Duarte
“I’ll call him today and set up an appointment.” Brad stood and asked Emily, “Can you be ready to go over to the town hall in about ten minutes? I’d like to get there before it closes.”
“Sure. Are you going to call Mr. Anderson?”
“Hopefully I’ll catch him in.”
Caleb handed Brad a scrap of paper. “There’s his number. I hope you can figure out this whole mess. I know that land belongs to our family.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Emily knew if anyone could get to the bottom of it, Brad could. When he was determined, he went after his goal, and heaven help anyone in his path.
From the street, Emily lifted her camera and snapped a photo of the town hall. As she and Brad walked up to the double doors, he said to her, “This could have waited until tomorrow if you’re tired.” She’d been very quiet since their meeting with Caleb.
“I’m fine.”
He opened one of the doors for her. It was wood and heavy and it creaked.
Stepping over the threshold, she almost felt as if she was walking into the past. “This is one of Thunder Canyon’s original buildings,” Brad explained, then glanced at her because she didn’t respond. “Are you thinking about our meeting with Caleb? Or are you thinking about our stay at the cabin?”
As they walked deeper into the reception area, they spotted a woman seated at a rough-hewn wooden desk.
“Both, I guess,” Emily murmured, wishing he hadn’t begun this conversation here. He must have felt the same because his look told her they’d finish later.
Crossing to the desk, he nodded toward the nameplate—Rhonda Culpepper.
“Are you Ms. Culpepper?”
“Sure am. Can I help you?” she asked in a chipper tone.
“I hope you can help us,” Brad returned with a smile. “I’m looking for the archives room.”
Rhonda’s face took on a perplexed look. “Why ever would you want to go down there?”
“It’s in the basement?” Emily asked.
“Sure is, and everything smells musty. It’s much older than I am,” she added with a little laugh, then went on, “but I’m afraid you can’t go down there. The room’s always locked. There are original documents, you understand. We can’t have people just poking in them. Our last archivist was making sure all the information was put into computers.”
“Your last archivist?”
“Yes, Saul Rindos. He went to college to be a historian, then couldn’t find a job. So we hired him. But fortunately for him and unfortunately for us, a few weeks ago he found a position in a museum—on the East Coast, mind you.”
“Who’s in charge of the room now?” Emily asked.
“Well, nobody exactly. I guess Mayor Brookhurst, if it comes right down to it. He has the key. He won’t let anyone in there until we have an archivist. We have a new one coming—Harvey Watson. He’s due in about mid-June.”
“I think the mayor will let us in,” Brad said to Emily.
“Oh, no,” Rhonda protested. “I’m afraid he won’t. Not right now, anyway. First of all, he won’t let anybody in that room without an archivist present, not even just to look. He’s paranoid about it and the history of this town. But on top of all that, he’s taking his vacation. Went somewhere in Wyoming to see a friend, I think. Anyway, he’s got the key and won’t be back until the middle of the month. He has to be back for Caleb Douglas’s groundbreaking ceremony for his ski resort.”
“When’s that?” Emily asked.
“May twenty-third, I believe. We have quite a reception planned afterward. Maybe you two can come?”
“I’m hoping we’ll be finished our work here by then,” Brad remarked. “Did the mayor leave a number where he could be reached?”
“He and his friend are doing some traveling. From what I understand, he wants nothing to do with phones or contact from us until he returns. Said he gets hassled enough here. Doesn’t want to contend with it on his vacation. You can’t blame him.”
“You said the archivist was entering information into the computer. Any idea if he did it in a particular order?”
“Well, that’s another of our problems,” she confided. “The archives have always been stored in the basement. Years ago, back in the late eighteen hundreds I think, there was a fire. We lost many of the ledgers. Just a while back, when we didn’t have an archivist, we had flooding. Boxes were emptied, material was shifted around. So to answer your question, I doubt if anything is in much order. That’s why we need another archivist to continue the work of the last one.”
Moving his hand across his forehead, Brad said patiently, “Thank you for your help. Who might the mayor report to if he does call in?”
“He has a sister, Elma Rogers. Her number’s in the phone book.”
“Do you mind if I mention your name to her?”
“Of course not, go ahead. In fact, I’ll give her a call tonight to tell her you’ll be talking to her. That way she’ll know you’re not trying to sell her something.”
With the reassurance that the mayor’s sister was indeed a very nice lady, Rhonda bid them a good evening.
Outside, Brad and Emily looked at each other and smiled.
“She was helpful,” Emily insisted.
“As far as it went. I could use some real help. I made an appointment with Mark Anderson for tomorrow afternoon. He said he and his wife have a new baby and she usually sleeps in the afternoons.”
At the mention of the word baby, Emily’s face clouded. It seemed there were so many land mines where they were concerned.
Instead of dwelling on that, Brad suggested, “Let’s walk down to that western-wear shop. I want to buy you a coat so you won’t freeze while we’re here.”
“I’m not going to let you buy me a coat.”
If he said she should consider it part of her bonus, he had a feeling he’d be in trouble. If he said he wouldn’t miss the money, he knew he’d be in just as much trouble. So he said, “I want you to charge it to my expense account. If you hadn’t come to Montana, you wouldn’t need it.”
Her nose wrinkled as she thought about the logic in that. “What about you?” she asked.
He was wearing his denim jacket. “I brought a couple of flannel shirts, so I’ll be fine. Emily, let me do this, all right?”
She took a terribly long time to answer but finally she agreed. “All right. But just something warm. Nothing elaborate.”
“It’s up to you to decide whatever you want.” He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss that frown right off her face. He wanted to hold her again as he’d held her through the night. But he knew that might not happen, not ever again.
After they stopped at the car and locked Emily’s camera inside, they crossed to the western-wear store. The scent of leather was strong as they entered. But Emily didn’t head toward the leather goods and jackets. Rather, she aimed for a rack that held the sign Women’s Fleece.
Choosing a jacket from the rack, she tried it on. It was royal blue with black horses edging the zipper and armbands.
“You look pretty in that color,” he said before he thought better of it.
Her gaze locked to his and she seemed to be asking him if he was giving her idle flattery.
After he stepped closer to her, he adjusted the standup collar on the jacket, his fingers brushing her hair. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”
He couldn’t keep from pushing a few strands away from her cheek. He couldn’t help inhaling her sweet scent. He couldn’t hold his libido in check anymore where she was concerned, and that annoyed him.
Backing away, he said offhandedly, “It’s practical.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll be able to wear it in Chicago next winter.” She looked at the tag on the sleeve. “And it’s even on sale.”
Her pleasure in that made him laugh. This was the first woman he’d ever taken shopping who considered a lower price to be better than a higher one.
Instead of t
aking Emily into his arms and giving her a hug and a kiss right then, he checked his watch. “We’d better be heading back if we want to get ready for dinner. Is there anything else you want to look at?”
Her gaze fell on a rack of western-style blouses. “I’ll just be a minute.” Moments later she was rifling through them. When she found a white one with a cowboy hat and lariat embroidered on one pocket, a horseshoe on the other, she smiled. “It will be a souvenir.”
He knew better than to offer to pay for the blouse. Maybe he hadn’t known Emily Stanton well in the six months she’d worked for him, but in the past few days he’d learned enough to fill an encyclopedia.
As soon as Emily met Adele Douglas later in the day, she was impressed.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here this afternoon when you arrived,” Adele said as she showed Emily and Brad into the dining room that night.
Adele had a warm and gracious manner. She wore her blond hair in a chin-length bob and had dressed for dinner in a green, long-sleeved sweater and wool slacks. Everything about her was sophisticated.
“We invited our son Riley to dinner tonight, even though he needs no invitation,” she said with a sly smile, beaming at her son.
Riley looked to be around Brad’s age, with black hair, green eyes and a killer smile. He was almost as handsome as Brad. Almost. Emily knew she was prejudiced.
After Riley shook her hand and Brad’s, they all seated themselves around the large cherrywood table. The buffet along one wall held two highly polished silver candelabra. In the buffet’s center stood a silver tureen. Tess Littlehawk was ladling soup out of it. Emily noticed the housekeeper eyeing Brad and she wondered why.
“When I want a good, home-cooked meal, I come over here and let Tess feed me,” Riley joked.
“He eats here most of the time because of working on the ski resort with me and living only a half mile down the road.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Justin, too,” Riley commented blandly.
An odd look passed between Caleb and Adele. Finally Caleb explained, “I have another son, Justin…Justin Crane. Actually, I knew nothing about him until a few months ago.”
Emily could see that Adele looked uncomfortable but she recovered quickly. “Justin just married recently,” Adele added bravely, rallying from whatever thoughts she’d been having. “He married a dear girl we’d raised most of her life and always thought of as a daughter. I’m sure you’ll meet Katie and Justin sometime soon, at the groundbreaking ceremony if not before.”
“The groundbreaking for the ski resort?” Emily asked.
“Precisely,” Caleb boomed. “We’re having a fine party afterward in the town hall.”
“I’m hoping we’ll have this whole mine matter wrapped up before then,” Brad responded.
“What did you find out this afternoon?” Caleb asked.
“Not much. We can’t get into the archives until the mayor returns.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently Mayor Brookhurst doesn’t trust the key to the archives room to anyone. I’m hoping it’s not necessary. I’m not going to sit around and wait until he gets back. Emily and I have an appointment with Mark Anderson tomorrow afternoon.”
“I hear he has invested in the Thunder Canyon Nugget,” Adele offered.
“He has a good reputation as a writer,” Riley commented. “Maybe he’ll use those pages for something more than gossip.”
Caleb laughed. “You young folk don’t appreciate the power of knowing what’s going on in the town.”
Riley returned his father’s smile. “I don’t need to know whose horse ran away from his barn. Maybe Mark will concentrate on bigger issues.”
“Such as the ski resort?” Caleb asked with upraised brows.
“I’m hoping we can pull in some high-caliber tourists,” Riley admitted.
Adele, who was sitting around the corner of the table from Emily, leaned over to her. “If they start talking business, you and I are going to start talking fashion.”
Everyone at the table laughed and the conversation turned to the food Tess was serving, which smelled absolutely delicious.
After dessert, Adele showed them to a sitting room. Emily found herself in a striped love seat with Brad very close beside her. For the rest of the evening she had to concentrate hard to keep her mind on the conversation. He was wearing a tan, cable-knit sweater and hunter-green corduroy slacks. He fit right in here with Caleb and Adele and Riley. Emily knew she didn’t. Her hair wasn’t styled in the latest fashion. Her clothes weren’t as fine as Adele’s. She kept her nails trimmed and shaped, but they weren’t manicured like her hostess’s. This wasn’t the life she knew, and she probably never would know.
Yet to Brad this was probably the norm.
When Tess asked if anyone wanted a nightcap a while later, Emily couldn’t help but yawn. “I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed.
“You have no reason to be sorry,” Adele assured her. “You must have had a terrible couple of days in that cabin with no power. Now maybe Caleb will get a generator.”
“And do something about that bridge,” he said decisively. “I’ll have to get a civil engineer in to look at it.”
The evening broke up then. After Emily and Brad bid the Douglases good-night, they headed for the stairs.
As they walked up in silence, Emily felt she had to say something. “Wouldn’t you like to know the story behind Justin Crane?”
“How do you know there is one?”
“His name’s different, and Adele looked uncomfortable when it was first brought up. My guess is there might have been an infidelity there.”
“You’d make a good private investigator.”
She glanced at him quickly to see if he was making fun of her.
“You would,” he said seriously now as they reached the second floor. “You’re intelligent, savvy and can read people well.”
At her door they stopped. “I have trouble reading you,” she admitted softly, hoping he’d tell her what was going on in his head…or, more importantly, in his heart.
“Ahh, Emily,” he said with a sigh, running his thumb across her bottom lip, looking deep into her eyes. “You’re a temptation. But I think we’ll both be better off if we keep our minds on what we came here to do.”
Was she a temptation he didn’t want or need? So be it. “You’re the boss,” she retorted flippantly, as if the whole conversation hadn’t mattered at all, as if his touch didn’t burn and spark desire in every part of her body.
Opening her bedroom door, she forced a smile to her lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Then she closed her door and leaned against it. She was going to lock all of her doors tonight, as well as her heart. Not to keep Brad out—but to keep herself from getting hurt.
As Brad drove to the new housing development on White Water Drive the following afternoon, he glanced at Emily taking in the scenery. She hadn’t brought along her camera today. Yesterday when they’d walked down the raised sidewalk in Old Town, she’d snapped picture after picture.
“No photographs today?” he asked now.
“No, I’ll keep my mind on what we’re doing.”
“Do you have more than one camera? Lots of photography buffs do.”
“Oh, no. It took me a long while to save for that one.”
“So that’s why you handle it so carefully.” He’d noticed how she held it, how she used it, how she carried it. He should have realized that if she was using her money to help her sister through school, she wouldn’t have funds for more than one camera.
“What do you enjoy photographing the most?” he asked.
“People I love. Sometimes its hard getting candid shots of them. Scenery’s a close second.”
“What do you do with the pictures?”
“Some I frame for gifts, others that are good I donate to worthwhile causes—auctions and the like. I have two file boxes of them in my closet.”
“Did you ever t
hink of submitting them to magazines?”
“You haven’t even seen them. How do you know if they’re good enough?”
He shrugged. “I have a feeling anything you do meets a certain standard. You’re that kind of lady.”
Glad he didn’t have to explain himself further, he pulled into the driveway of the ranch house on Wagon Wheel Drive. It was a white house, and as yet there were no trees planted anywhere—or grass, either, for that matter. It looked as if the residents might have just moved in.
After Brad parked in the drive, they exited the SUV and went up the walk. When Mark Anderson opened the door, they heard a baby squalling.
“I’m Mark,” he said, shaking their hands and motioning them inside. “Sorry about the noise,” he called above the crying. “I thought Marissa would be asleep.”
Inside the house, Brad noticed it was cozy. There was a stone fireplace and a mantel with family photos in silver frames. The living room furniture was casual and comfortable looking and it all seemed to be brand-new.
Mark Anderson appeared to be near forty. He was around six feet tall, lean and wore his dark hair long. His wife, Juliet, looked to be more around Emily’s age. Petite, she had brown eyes and long dark hair. But she looked tired right now as she juggled her baby from her arm to her shoulder.
“Want me to take her?” Mark asked.
“No, I’ll go back to the bedroom with her. You have a meeting.”
The baby was waving her arms now and crying so hard that she was red faced.
Emily approached Juliet and her daughter. “Would you like me to try? I’m Emily Stanton, Brad’s assistant, and I have two younger sisters.”
“If there’s anything you know how to do to make her stop crying, go right ahead,” Juliet said, a bit exasperated.
Fascinated, Brad watched as Emily took the infant from Juliet’s arms. Holding the baby, she bent down to it, her hair hiding her face. She began making a sound into the baby’s ear. It sounded like “Sssh, sssh, ssshoo.” Over and over she did it until Marissa began quieting.
The little girl’s parents looked on, amazed. As Emily shushed and rocked, the infant looked up at her. Mark asked, “What are you doing to her?”
