by Cora Seton
“I’m not at liberty to say,” the young woman manning the phones at the Evergreen Motel said.
“Can you at least tell me if he’s checked in yet so I don’t waste a trip to town?”
“Can’t tell you that either.”
“Can you take a message for him?”
“Sure.” He heard her fumbling through things and figured she was looking for a pad of paper. Jack hung up. He now knew everything he needed to know—if she was willing to take a message, Landon was definitely in town. Staying at the Evergreen Motel. Here when he wasn’t supposed to be here.
He knew Alice was angry he’d kept that information from her. Maybe he should have told her—but he hadn’t wanted to upset her. He’d been protecting her again. Alice had made it clear after the muster session she didn’t like being protected.
He found the other men—and Lena—in the barn, and reported what he’d found out.
“I’m all for being cautious and checking this out,” Connor said when he was done, “but none of this makes sense. Landon was dealing with Alice before the last set of men came to attack Two Willows. No one in the Tennessee operation has shown the kind of initiative to make a long play like this.”
“Not since the first round of men, anyway,” Brian said. “What Bob Finchley and his friends did took organization and planning.”
Lena scowled but held her tongue. Jack figured she was still angry about that.
“If Landon is Manson’s son, he’s got a reason to have initiative,” Logan said.
“Now. Two months ago he had no way of knowing Ron Cooper would kill his dad,” Connor said.
“It’s all we’ve got,” Jack countered, “and I’m not taking any chances. Not where Alice is concerned. Duke Manson has a son, and Landon Clark is hanging around Chance Creek when he’s supposed to be off scouting costume designers. Something’s rotten in Denmark. The guy isn’t even a real movie producer. How do we know he’s got the money he claims he does? He’s never had anything to do with films before.”
“All I’m saying is don’t let your jealousy blind you to other possibilities,” Connor said.
“Jealousy?” Jack bit back an angry retort, catching Hunter’s smile and the look Brian and Logan exchanged. “I’m not being blinded by my jealousy. Alice has made it damn clear she’s not interested in Landon, but this guy’s got two strikes against him in my book. His past doesn’t reconcile with the future he’s pretending to aim for—”
“Does yours?” Connor challenged him. “I mean, you’re in the Special Forces. A highly trained officer with all kinds of skill in intelligence. And you’re going to spend the rest of your life on a Montana ranch… when you barely know how to do your chores?”
Jack went for him, but Brian and Hunter both stepped in his way.
“Easy, easy,” Brian told him. “Maybe you should answer the question.”
“I’m giving my all to this ranch—”
“I know. That’s exactly my point,” Connor said. “You’re making a change because you want to make a change. How do we know Landon isn’t doing something similar?”
“He keeps cutting Alice down. Trying to make her feel ugly and unskilled. He’s an ass.”
“That I believe,” Connor said. “But being an ass and being a criminal are two different things. All I’m saying is let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Jack got his anger under control. Connor was right about that. “I’ve got my surveillance equipment set up to notify me if anything crosses the Two Willows border and comes onto the property.” He’d been checking his phone every time it buzzed, watching all the vehicles that came in and out of the lanes—and a few critters that had crossed onto the property, too. So far he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary, but he wouldn’t stop being vigilant.
“Let’s get back to work. Keep an eye on that surveillance system of yours,” Brian told him. “And on Alice. Lena, if you find out she’s going anywhere, make sure to tell us. She shouldn’t be alone.”
Lena nodded. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet all afternoon.
“Something bothering you?” Jack asked. “Other than the General?”
Lena chuckled grimly. “Isn’t that enough?”
Alice paused with her hand on the doorknob to the carriage house, taking a deep breath of the cold air to try to clear her head. The dread was back, which made sense given that she had less than twenty-four hours until she showed her gowns to Landon again, and she was on the outs with Jack. She couldn’t get past the fact Jack hadn’t thought it was important to tell her about Landon.
As for Landon, she told herself his cutting comments hadn’t affected her, but she was lying. She kept replaying them in her brain, wondering if there was any truth to them. She could wave away his criticisms of her looks; while they were hurtful, she figured they were part of his negotiation technique. He wanted her to feel small so he could push her around. Since she wasn’t attracted to him, she didn’t much care if he thought she was pretty. It was harder to explain away his criticisms of her work, though. She’d taken her sewing prowess for granted, and now she heard his comments in his head when she worked on the dresses, and they were undercutting her confidence. His stinging critique of her gowns had been far more difficult to stomach than his petty slights about her looks.
What if he was right? What if her work, which had always been praised locally, regionally—and even nationally from time to time—wasn’t up to snuff for a real box-office hit? What if her talents were limited?
Could her pride take that?
Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. She was being silly. She was good at what she did, and her dread was unfounded. The General had already suffered the consequences of them all leaving the ranch at the same time. He was already injured. Already home. So what if Landon turned her down? Jack was right; there would be other opportunities.
But would any of them include hundreds of hoopskirt ball gowns?
Alice smiled wryly. Probably not.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out.
“Alice? It’s Landon. I’m back in Chance Creek. Got some time? I’d love to see those costumes again.”
She rested her head against the doorframe and shut her eyes. So Jack was right; he had come back early. What kind of game was Landon playing now?
“You gave me until tomorrow,” she said flatly, unable to hide her irritation.
“I have to leave first thing in the morning again. Business.”
“Why didn’t you call me yesterday—I know you were here.”
Landon hesitated, and she wondered if he would deny it. “Look, Alice—I’m having some problems. Nothing to concern you, but I’ve been on the road for weeks, and I needed to take a day to sort things out. I guess in a small town like this, people talk. I should have told you what was going on.”
“Yes, you should have,” Alice relented. “Is everything okay?”
“Not… exactly.”
“Will this affect the contract at all?”
“No,” he said hurriedly. “That’s all on track. I’d really like to see those gowns again, now that I’ve visited the other candidates.”
Alice’s grip on her phone tightened. She wondered how he’d reacted to their work.
“I understand they won’t be perfect,” he said soothingly. “I’d still like to see them. Any chance you can bring what you’ve got to my motel?”
“I’m not trying them on again,” she warned.
Another hesitation. “Fine. Just bring them.”
“I’m bringing Wye with me, too.” No sense beating around the bush. He needed to know she didn’t like his games.
“Alice—”
“Not up for discussion.”
“Fine,” he said again. “Bring Wyoming. When will you get here?”
“When I get there.” She hung up.
Now where the hell was Wye—and Jack?
Chapter Sixteen
‡
“There you a
re,” Landon said when Alice and Wye arrived at his room an hour later. He ushered them inside before closing and locking the door. It made Alice feel better to know that Jack—and Lena—were sitting outside in the parking lot in Jack’s truck. They’d wanted to come in, too, but had settled for bugging Alice’s purse. Jack had explained that the bugs didn’t transmit well from inside her handbag, but they’d managed to arrange one under the purse’s flap. Hopefully that would do the trick.
“Any hint of trouble, and I’m in there,” Jack had warned her.
“I’m still pissed at you,” Alice said.
“Understood,” Jack said grimly.
“I appreciate you coming,” Landon said. “Wyoming, what a pleasure to see you again.”
Wyoming nodded. She hung the gowns over the back of the bathroom door and held up the first one against her torso, as she and Alice had planned. No more playing around with Landon. He could see the dresses and make up his mind.
Alice pointed to the neckline of the lilac gown. “I got rid of the lace, as you suggested, and replaced it with—”
Landon listened patiently through her descriptions of the alterations of each gown, until Alice began to think she’d made a mistake not trying them on again. They really required a hoopskirt and corset to be shown to their best effect. Unlike last time, Landon seemed interested in every detail, asked thoughtful questions and examined the gowns closely.
When they were done, Wye got to work putting the gowns away. Landon touched Alice’s arm and led her across the room near the front windows.
“Listen, Alice, I’m sorry I was so hard on you before,” he began.
“I didn’t like the way you talked to me,” she said honestly, “but I do feel that I improved the gowns in the meantime.”
“Like night and day. You have a gift when it comes to costume design.”
“Does that mean I’ve got the job?” she challenged him. She was losing patience with this process.
“I think you’re the right person for the part. But I have to ask you—is it really the best use of your skills… and mine?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Wye caught her eye from across the room and lifted an eyebrow. Alice nodded to let her know everything was all right.
“You are a very talented seamstress, but you have other talents, too.” Landon stepped closer. “Alice, you have to know I’d like to get to know you better. I haven’t made that a secret.”
“I—”
“Don’t answer yet. It seems to me we could form a different kind of partnership.”
Oh no, Alice thought. He was going to proposition her. After everything she’d done to get this job—and to fend him off.
“I’ve got a lot of money,” he added.
Alice stiffened. Was he going to offer to pay her to be with him?
“A lot of money,” he repeated. “And you’ve got a hell of a talent for predicting winners. I think you and I could go places.”
Alice gaped at him. He—wanted her to predict the outcome of sports competitions? She nearly laughed in relief. At least he didn’t want to have sex with her. She caught the way he was looking at her and realized she was being naive. He wanted that, too.
“What about the movie?” she managed to ask.
Landon shrugged. “A movie is a risky bet at any time. Why take a risk when you can have a sure thing? What do you say? Horse races, sports, stock markets—the world is our oyster.”
“No.” She didn’t even have to think about it before she answered.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I just worked for months on these gowns because you said you were making a movie—”
“Fine, we’ll make a movie, too. Whatever you want.” He opened his arms wide. “I mean it, Alice. Whatever you want. We’re sitting on a gold mine here.”
“I am not going to make a movie with you now,” she countered. “And I’m not going to help you cheat, either—at horses, sports or the stock market.”
“Alice—”
“You just jerked me around for months, Landon. I don’t play games like that. And I don’t steal people’s money.
“You’ve got a conscience? Is that the problem?”
“Of course that’s the problem, plus I don’t need a man in my life who thinks he can come around here, waste my time, talk shit about my body—”
Landon dropped his hands to his sides. “Is that what this is about? Did I hurt your feelings? Oh, sweetheart—”
He was insufferable, and she’d had enough. “Goodbye, Landon. Have a pleasant trip back from where you came. Wye, let’s go.” She headed for the door, sparing a helpless look at the three beautiful gowns, now cocooned in their cotton wrappers. She had to leave them behind. Landon didn’t deserve them, but he’d paid her to make them, so they were his.
“You’re making a mistake,” Landon called after her.
“Then we’re even, because you already made one.”
“He offered me the job.”
Jack pulled out of his parking space, sparing a glance for Alice, who sat in the passenger seat. Lena was driving Wye back to the ranch in Alice’s truck to give the two of them time to talk.
“I know.”
She made a face. “I forgot you were listening.”
“He’s an ass.”
“I told him no. I don’t think we have to worry about him anymore.” Her voice was tight.
Jack wished that was true. He was pretty sure they needed to worry more than ever. “He thinks you can predict the future.”
“I can,” she said tiredly.
“And he wants part of the action. I’m not sure we’ve seen the last of him.”
Alice turned his way. “You’re kidding, right?”
He didn’t answer. She was smart enough to know he wasn’t.
“I’m sorry you won’t get the contract,” he finally said. “I know it meant a lot to you.”
“I don’t want to work with a man like that. I’m not going to spend my time being pushed around. By anyone,” she said firmly.
“I understand. You know I don’t want to push you around—or control you,” he added, heading toward Two Willows.
“You like to be in control, though,” she pointed out. “You didn’t even tell me he was in town.” She kept her gaze out the window.
“I know. That was… dumb. I wish you could understand it from my point of view. I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“That’s the thing,” Alice said. “You don’t get to make that call. I do. I have to have all of the information to do that.”
“Don’t you think we’re on track to find a middle way?”
“What do you mean?”
“You agreed to be bugged this time,” he pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean you get to bug me when I don’t agree, or that you get to make decisions for me. You aren’t my father, Jack Sanders.”
“I don’t want to be your father.”
“If you want to be anything else, you’d better smarten up.”
She was quiet for the rest of the ride, and Jack let her be, although he wanted to make his case in the strongest way possible. There could be times in the future where he needed to override their agreement. On the other hand, he didn’t want her to lump him in with Landon.
The minute Jack pulled in behind the house and parked, she got out and strode off toward the carriage house.
“Alice?” Jack called after her.
She didn’t look back.
Inside the carriage house, Alice closed the door and rested against it. She’d felt so strong when she’d made her decision back at the Evergreen Motel, but now her emotions were catching up to her. All that work—
For nothing.
She didn’t regret her decision to refuse any kind of partnership with Landon, but she did regret the loss of her dream.
The stairs to her office never seemed so steep. The dressmaker dummies, without their finery, seemed to accuse her of letting t
hem down. Alice slumped in a chair at one of her worktables, and for the first time her workshop didn’t comfort her.
She felt a vision coming on—and pushed back hard. She didn’t want them anymore. Didn’t want hunches or foreknowledge. Didn’t want to belong to a stupid family with gifts and mazes and pacts with the land.
She wanted to be normal for once. Wanted to succeed. Was that so much to ask?
Landon had been the key to that success—
Except he wasn’t the key to anything.
Alice looked around her workshop again. How had Landon managed to poison her feelings about her haven? This space had been everything to her—especially since her mother died. It was where Amelia had taught her the basics of sewing and then set her free to create whatever she wanted. This was where she could take ideas and make them real. Where she expressed herself without compromise.
With Landon she’d begun to accept compromise as a given.
She’d almost sold out—sold herself.
Why had she done that?
She didn’t need the money; was it fame she was after? Prestige?
Approval from a man, since she never got it from her father?
It was as if she was fighting against something. Alice stood up and crossed to the window. Fighting against the boundaries that always seemed to hem her in. She’d thought Landon offered a way out, but—
Did she need one?
Alice took in the house and the spread of the ranch around it. This was her home. These were her people. She loved it here. Loved what she did.
Loved Jack. As infuriating as he could be.
Maybe she even loved the General, though they had much to patch up between them.
So why had she been so intent on this commission?
Hoopskirts?
Alice shook her head, but she had to acknowledge it was partly true. At the end of the day, she loved hoopskirts. Their incredible exuberance. Their impracticality. The sheer audaciousness of them. She wasn’t a Civil War buff. Hated that slavery was ever practiced in her country. Knew that for some people such dresses were inextricably linked to a past they couldn’t forgive.
For Alice, hoopskirts were simply a three-dimensional challenge, a cross between architecture and fashion. They swished around when you walked. Swung wide when you danced. Popped up in embarrassing ways when you tried to sit down. They were… fun.
