by Judy Duarte
“No. Do I need a pair?”
“Not really. You’ll be fine in jeans.”
Maybe Eva would have a pair she could borrow. She’d ask her as soon as she got home.
They ate in silence for a while, and when Catherine reached for her glass of water, she caught Ray staring at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
She didn’t believe him.
Finally, he said, “You’re a good sport.”
She always tried to be. But something told her his comment held a deeper meaning. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re a big-city girl. All this country-bumpkin stuff has to be pretty foreign to you. Are you that good of an actress?”
She laughed. “I’m a pretty good actress, but I wasn’t always a big-city girl. I grew up in a small town in New Mexico, although it wasn’t anything like Brighton Valley.”
“You mentioned that to me before, but I still have trouble imagining you as anything other than a big-city girl.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “The way you carry yourself, I suppose. And because of your background on the Broadway stage.”
“I’ve spent the past ten years surrounded by bright lights and skyscrapers, but that wasn’t always the case.”
“What was it like growing up in a small New Mexico community?” he asked.
“It was dry, hot and dusty for the most part. And I couldn’t wait to leave it all behind.”
He took a bite of garlic bread. “What about your family? Do they still live there?”
“A few of them do. My dad died when I was twelve, and my mother passed on about five years ago. Most of my siblings cut out the minute they turned eighteen, just like I did.”
“Most of them? How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“There were seven of us—three boys and four girls.”
“I was an only child,” he said. “I always wondered what it would have been like to have had siblings.”
“Big families aren’t always what they’re cracked up to be. Mine was pretty loud and dysfunctional, and so I escaped through reading or listening to music.”
“Is that when you decided to be an actress?”
She’d been gone so long and traveled so far, that whenever she looked back on those days, it was hard to believe she’d ever been that lonely girl with big dreams.
“I knew that an education was my only way out of that town—and school provided the lessons I wanted. So I studied hard and landed a scholarship.”
“At the college where you met Dan’s sister?”
“Yes. Jennifer was determined to perform on Broadway, and her dreams were contagious. I began to think that I might be able to make the cut, too.”
“And you did.” He smiled, his eyes beaming as though he was proud of her.
Her heart skipped a beat at his belief in her, at his pride in her accomplishment. She hadn’t had a cheerleader since Jenn died. And while Dan and Eva had always liked hearing about her successes, she’d never been able to share her failures with them in hopes of getting a pep talk.
She offered Ray a wistful smile. “After we graduated from college Jenn and I moved to New York, rented a small apartment in the Bronx and then tried out for every off-Broadway play or musical available. In time, we began to make names for ourselves, first with bit parts, then with an occasional lead role.”
“Sounds like the perfect world—at least, for you.”
“Yes and no. When Jennifer got pregnant with the twins and feared she’d have to call it quits, I was afraid I couldn’t make it on my own. Not because I didn’t have the talent, but Jenn was the one with the determination and the perseverance, the one who kept me going when things didn’t work out as hoped or planned. So I offered to support her any way I could—if she’d stay in New York.”
“Support? You mean financially or with the kids?”
“Both. I had no idea how difficult it would be to bring home two newborns.”
“I’ll bet that changed both of your lives.”
It certainly had. And in a good way. A lot of roommates might have had qualms about having crying babies in the house, but Catherine and Jennifer had become a team—and a family.
But then again, Catherine had suffered a lot of female problems in the past. Since she’d been told that having a child of her own wasn’t likely, it was only natural that she grew exceptionally close to Kaylee and Kevin.
“It must have been tough when Jennifer died.”
Catherine nodded. Just the thought of losing the young woman who’d been both her best friend and a better sister than the three she’d had brought tears to her eyes.
It might have been four years ago, but the grief sometimes still struck hard and swift.
She could still recall that awful day as though it had been yesterday. She’d been home watching the kids and practicing the lines for a new part in an off-Broadway production when the doorbell rang. And when she’d answered, she’d found an NYPD officer on the stoop, who’d told her the news: Jennifer had been killed while crossing a busy Manhattan street—struck by a car.
At that time, Jennifer and her brother Dan, the twins’ only surviving relative, had been estranged. He’d been devastated to learn of his sister’s death and had flown to New York to do whatever he could. But the twins weren’t quite five years old and hardly knew him. So Catherine had volunteered to keep the children for a few months to help them through the grieving process and to allow them time to get to know their uncle better.
When the kids finally moved to Brighton Valley, Catherine had missed them terribly, but she knew it was for the best. Still, she called regularly and visited them in Texas as often as her work would allow—although it wasn’t nearly as often as she would have liked.
“I’m sorry,” Ray said. “I didn’t mean to bring up something painful and turn your afternoon into a downer.”
Catherine lifted her napkin and dabbed it under her eyes. “That’s okay. It happens sometimes. We were very close. And I still miss her.” Then she managed a smile. “I really don’t mind talking about her. And I don’t usually cry.”
As Ray watched Catherine wipe the tears from her eyes, he regretted the questions that had stirred up her grief. He’d only wanted to learn more about her, to get to know her better.
If they’d actually been dating, if he’d had the right to quiz her about her past, it might have been different.
She glanced at the napkin, noting black streaks on the white linen.
“My mascara is running,” she said.
“Just a bit.”
“I probably look like a raccoon.” She smiled through her tears, relieving the tension, as well as his guilt. “Excuse me for a minute. I’m going to find the ladies’ room and see if I can repair the damages.”
Catherine had no more than entered the restaurant when Ray spotted Beverly Garrison getting out of her parked car. Beverly was the president of her homeowners’ association and made it a point to attend every city council meeting, whether the agenda had anything to do with her neighborhood or not.
When Beverly saw him, she brightened and waved. “You’re just the one I wanted to see, Mayor. I have something to give you.”
Then she reached into the passenger seat and pulled out a yellow plastic tub.
What the heck was in it? Margarine?
“I looked for you over at Caroline’s Diner,” she said, as she bumped her hip against the car door to shut it. “But you weren’t there. Someone suggested I look for you here.”
She headed for his table. “I brought you a treat.”
“What is it?” Ray asked.
“Two dozen of the best homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies you’ve ever eaten in your life. My daughter baked a fresh batch this morning. Carol Ann is a little shy, so she asked me to give them to you.”
As Ray glanced down at the yellow tub, Beverly reached for the lid, peeled it off and re
vealed a stack of cookies that certainly looked delicious.
“Thanks for thinking of me,” he said, a little surprised that she’d go so far as to chase him down.
“Oh, it wasn’t me.” Beverly’s hand flew up to her chest, as she took a little step back. “It was my daughter. You remember Carol Ann, don’t you? She’s the pretty blonde who showed up at the last city council meeting with me.”
Ray remembered, but poor Carol Ann, who’d spent most of the time with her nose stuck in a book, was neither pretty nor blond. At best, she was a rather nondescript woman with stringy, light brown hair. She was also in her forties, which meant she was five to ten years older than him.
Not that age was that big of an issue. But Ray wasn’t looking for a date.
Of course, he didn’t want to hurt the woman or her daughter’s feelings, so he kept those thoughts to himself.
“You’ll have to thank Carol Ann for me,” he said.
“I can certainly do that, but why don’t I give you her telephone number instead? That way, you can call her yourself. It’d be a nice thing for you to do.”
Ray took a deep breath, then glanced to the doorway of the restaurant, where Catherine stood, watching the matchmaking mama do her thing.
Catherine’s lips quirked into a crooked grin, clearly finding a little humor in the situation.
Beverly reached into her black vinyl handbag and pulled out a pen and notepad. Then she scratched out Carol Ann’s contact information, tore out the sheet she’d written upon and handed it to Ray. “Carol Ann has plenty of time on her hands these days. She and Artie Draper broke up a few months back, and…well, what with your recent divorce and all, I’m sure you understand how tough it is to get back into the dating world again.”
It actually wouldn’t be tough at all for him to start dating—if he were inclined to do so. There were single women ready, willing and able at every turn.
“I’ll be sure to call Carol Ann and thank her for the cookies,” Ray said, getting to his feet and glancing to the doorway where Catherine stood by.
“That would be wonderful,” Beverly said.
Taking her cue, Catherine approached the table.
“Beverly,” Ray said, “I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Catherine Loza.”
“How do you do,” Catherine said. “Goodness, will you look at those yummy cookies.”
Beverly’s eyes widened and her lips parted as she ran an assessing gaze over Catherine. “I… I…um, didn’t know you were engaged, Mayor… .”
“It’s only been official for a few days,” Catherine said with a gracious smile. “And we haven’t made any formal announcements.”
Beverly took a step back, then fingered the top button of her blouse. “You know, I can probably thank Carol Ann for you, Mayor. There’s probably no need for you to call her. She’s pretty shy. And well, I’d hate to see her embarrassed. She…uh…”
“I understand,” Ray said. “I wouldn’t want to cause her any discomfort, especially after her recent breakup. But please give her my best. Tell her the right guy will come along. And before she knows it, she’ll be happy again.”
“Well,” Beverly said, nodding toward her car. “I really need to get going. I have a lot of errands to run.”
“Thank you for the cookies,” Ray said. “Do you want me to return the container?”
“No, don’t bother. You can just recycle it when you’re through.” Then she turned and strode to her car.
Ray pulled out Catherine’s chair, and when she took a seat, he followed suit.
Once Beverly had closed her car door and backed out of her parking space, Ray glanced across the table, his gaze meeting Catherine’s.
“See what I mean?” he asked. “That kind of thing happens to me all the time. And most of them don’t know how to take a polite no for an answer.”
“Well, hopefully, once word gets out that you’re taken, you won’t have to deal with those kinds of distractions anymore.”
That was his plan. Having a hired fiancée seemed to be working like a charm, thank goodness. Although he had to admit, another actress might not have been able to pull it off with Catherine’s grace and style.
Ray studied the beautiful blonde as she ate the last of her salad.
The sunlight glimmered in her hair, making the strands shine like white gold… The teal-colored blouse she wore made her blue-green eyes especially vivid today.
While in the restroom, she’d reapplied her mascara, as well as her pink lipstick.
Damn, she was attractive. And not just because of her appearance. In a matter of two days, she’d added something to his life—smiles, camaraderie…
Of all the women he’d met since his split from Heather, Catherine seemed to be the only one who might not complicate things.
Of course, she was an actress, so who knew if he was seeing the real Catherine. She also lived—and no doubt thrived—in Manhattan, which was worlds away from Brighton Valley.
Still, if things were different…
If he could trust that the woman who’d revealed herself to him was real…
If she were a normal, down-home type…
If she planned to escape the city lights and excitement and move to a small Texas town…
…then Ray would be sorely tempted to ask her out on a real date.
Chapter Five
On Saturday afternoon Catherine climbed into the same old ranch pickup she’d driven before and headed for Ray’s apartment, but she wasn’t sure if she would make it or not. Each time she stopped at an intersection, the engine sputtered and chugged as though it might stall at any moment.
Thankfully, she reached the alley behind the drugstore and parked in the lot next to a battered green Dumpster.
Before climbing out of the cab, she reached into her purse, pulled out her cell and called Dan.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but there’s something wrong with the pickup.”
“Are you stranded along the road?”
“No, I made it. But I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get home or not.”
He paused a moment, then said, “The ranch hands have all left for the day. And I’m still waiting for the vet. But I’ll try to get out there as soon as I can.”
Dan had a broodmare that was sick. And earlier this morning, while climbing on the corral near the barn, Kevin had fallen down and sprained his ankle, which was why Dan, Eva and the kids wouldn’t be coming to the town barbecue.
“Don’t give it another thought,” Catherine said. “I just wanted to let you know. I’ll ask Ray to look under the hood. And I’ll also have him bring me home this evening.”
“Don’t bother asking Ray to look at the truck,” Dan said. “As long as it won’t put you in a bind or strand you in town, you can leave it right where it is. I’ll call a towing service and have it brought home on Monday.”
After she ended the call, Catherine got out of the pickup and crossed the parking lot. She’d borrowed a pair of cowboy boots from Eva, as well as faded jeans and a blue-and-white gingham blouse. She was certainly going to fit right in with the other Brighton Valley residents today, which ought to please Ray.
A smile tugged at her lips as she climbed the stairs to the small apartment, then used the key Ray had given her. She was a few minutes early, so once she was inside, she made herself at home—just as he’d told her to do.
The sparsely furnished apartment, while clean, tidy and functional, lacked any artwork on the walls or accent colors. She was tempted to pick up a couple of throw pillows, something to brighten up the place and make it a bit homier. But she supposed it didn’t matter. Ray stayed here only on the nights he didn’t want to drive all the way back to the ranch.
Catherine turned on the television. Then after finding the Hallmark channel, she took a seat on the brown leather sofa and watched the last half of a romantic comedy about a woman who was snowbound in a cabin with her ex-husband.
It wasn’t until t
he ending credits began to roll that she heard another key in the lock, alerting her to Ray’s arrival.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said as he closed the door and stepped into the small living area that opened up to a kitchen and makeshift dining room. “I meant to get here sooner, but I was at a funeral of an old friend of my parents, and his widow asked me to meet with her and her attorney.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Using the remote, she shut off the power on the television, then got to her feet. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. It wasn’t a surprise. He’d been sick for a long time, so it was probably for the best.” He loosened his tie.
Not only was Ray a successful rancher, he was also a loyal friend, which Catherine found admirable. No wonder he’d been elected to the city council and appointed mayor.
“Look at you,” he said, breaking into a smile. “You’re going to be the prettiest cowgirl at the barbecue.”
Catherine didn’t know about that, but she thanked him just the same.
“I need to change into something more appropriate,” he said. “I’ll only be a minute or two.”
She knew he’d planned to be home a lot sooner than this. “Is there anything I can do to help? I know you’d wanted to arrive early.”
“I was going to welcome everyone before the music started, but that’s not going to happen now. I’ll just have to do that at the halfway point.” His steps slowed. “In fact, I’m even going to take time to get a drink of water.”
“Is your life always like this?” Catherine asked as she returned to her seat on the sofa. “Do you run from one event or meeting to another?”
“Yep. That’s pretty much the way each day goes.”
She smiled. “I’ll have to keep that in mind if I ever decide to run for public office.”
“Actually,” he said, removing his jacket, “I never planned on going into politics, but a few of my friends and neighbors—including Dan Walker—had been urging me to run for the city council. I’d put them off for a while, but…”
“Now here you are,” she said, “the mayor of Brighton Valley.”
“The interim mayor,” he corrected. “I’m covering for Jim Cornwall, remember?”
