by Jane Porter
He shot Margaret a quick glance, then looked back at Taylor, his blue gaze gleaming. “Thank you so much, Miss Harris, for the information about the book groups. I look forward to attending my first meeting. I’ve never been part of a book club before.”
Jane arrived at the library just before closing and then stayed to visit with Taylor after Margaret and Louise had left.
The front door was locked and Jane leaned on the circulation desk, watching Taylor swiftly swap out issues of magazines from the plastic protective covers.
“These are all Cormac Sheenan publications,” Jane said, tapping the glossy new issues stacked in front of Taylor. “Montana Living, Wyoming Living, Colorado Living, and Big Sky Design.”
“We carry a couple more of his,” Taylor said, clicking the plastic binder open, and taking out the January/February issue of Big Sky Design for the new March/April issue. “I think they are sport oriented magazines. A skiing one, maybe, and a fishing or hunting one.”
“He’s just bought his third TV station to add to his radio station collection.”
“He’s quite the media mogul,” Taylor said.
“By Montana standards,” Jane answered.
“By anybody’s standards. TV stations, radio stations, magazines. I think it’s incredibly impressive.”
“Troy helped him, you know. He gave Cormac a loan so he could buy the first couple of radio stations and then Cormac picked up the Denver-based publishing company for next to nothing a year later, and has turned the publishing company around.”
Taylor clicked the binder closed and reached for Wyoming Living. “It’ll be interesting to meet Cormac tomorrow night. I’ve been curious about him. I hear he’s the only blond Sheenan.”
“He’s pretty hot… channels Channing Tatum. Some girls like that.” Jane paused, flipping through the magazine. “I always liked brunettes. With blue eyes.”
Like Troy.
Taylor’s chest squeezed and she held her breath a moment. Did Jane still love Troy?
Taylor reached out, put a hand on the magazine Jane was flipping through, stopping her from turning any more pages. “We need to talk,” she said quietly.
“I thought we were talking.”
“About something important.”
“What?”
“Are you madly in love with him?”
“Mitch? No. We’ve only had a couple of dates.”
“Not Mitch. Troy.” Taylor leaned on the counter and stared intently into Jane’s face, trying to read her expression. “You’re here for Troy. I’ve done the research. The whole wedding giveaway in 1914 was the clever brainchild of a Graff employee back in 1913, trying to figure out how to generate publicity to the reopening of the hotel after the 1912 fire.” Taylor gave Jane a pointed look. “Just as you are now the clever person creating a publicity event for the new owner of the Graff Hotel.”
“That’s what I was hired to do, yes, but I didn’t take this job for Troy. I took this job because it was an exciting opportunity and there was a big fat salary which paired nicely with Marietta’s cost of living—substantially lower than San Francisco’s—meaning, I could bank some money, start saving up to buy my own house.”
“So you’re not here to make points with Troy?”
“It doesn’t hurt to make points with Troy. He knows everyone, everywhere. The man is connected.”
“You love him.”
“No.”
“You want him back.”
Jane grimaced. “No. It’d just be a waste of both our time and, to be fair to him, I knew he was never into me, but it was fun being out with Troy. Heads turned. Everyone paid attention. I felt sexy and beautiful when we were together, but I knew something was missing…. not from my side of things, but from his. He didn’t feel anything. There were no sparks. I pretended not to know, or notice, but when we kissed, I could tell he didn’t want to kiss me. And to be honest, it was a turn off.”
“So you don’t love him.”
“I’ve been telling you that for weeks.”
Taylor felt as if a massive weight tumbled from her shoulders. She breathed in, and then out, and in again, feeling lighter than she had in ages.
“I wanted him to love me,” Jane added. “But apparently he felt more brotherly towards me.” She slumped onto the counter. “Do you know how often I hear that? Why do men just want to be my friend?”
“You’re smart. Ambitious. That’s scary for men.”
“Why?”
Taylor grimaced. “I don’t know. Men are stupid.”
Jane burst out laughing. “Did you really just say that?”
“Of course I don’t mean all men, but I think men are far more insecure than they like to let on. I just don’t think they’ve evolved as much as we woman would like to think they have.”
“Are you a feminist, Taylor Harris?”
“I don’t know if I’m a feminist or a realist. But I can’t help thinking that men might be hampered by all their testosterone, while estrogen allows women to be flexible. Because we have to be flexible. Our lives are all about growth and contraction.”
“I had no idea you were such a deep thinker.”
Taylor shrugged and smiled. “Book girls rule.”
Jane shook her head, smiling. “You’re a nut, and for your information, I wouldn’t have ever set him up with you, if I didn’t think you could be the right one for him.” She hesitated a moment. “Troy’s liked you from the beginning.”
“He didn’t even know me until he scooped me up on the side of the highway.”
“He knew about you long before that. Troy was a big part of you getting this job, Taylor.”
“What?”
“Come on, you knew that. He’s a board member for Marietta’s Friends of the Library—”
“I did not know that. I thought Cormac was.”
“Troy replaced Cormac over the summer. There was no way Cormac could care for Daisy and continue with working and holding volunteer positions on all the various non-profits, so he let most the volunteer work go.”
“Wait. I’m getting confused. Daisy isn’t Cormac’s daughter?”
“Daisy was the daughter of Cormac’s best friends, Daryl and April Wilde. Daryl and April died in that big accident on the Las Vegas strip last June. I’m sure you heard about it. The accident was all over the news. Now Cormac is raising their baby.”
“Wow. I didn’t know all that. And I definitely wasn’t aware that Troy had been part of the hiring committee.”
“He was one of the ones that recommended you.”
“There were some who didn’t want me?”
“There were some who thought the library should replace Margaret with someone older, and more mature.”
“Like Judge McCorkle, maybe?” Taylor muttered.
Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “How did you know?”
Taylor’s jaw dropped. “He wasn’t part of the hiring committee!”
“He was. Along with Annabeth Collier, Chelsea’s mom, Sharla Dickinson, the principal at Marietta High, and Samuel Emerson of Emerson Ranch.”
“Ella’s dad.”
Jane nodded.
“How do you know all this?” Taylor asked.
“Committee meeting notes are always saved in a city Dropbox folder I have access to as Director for the Chamber of Commerce.”
“So you know Marietta’s dirt.”
Jane grinned. “I do.”
“People should be nicer to you.”
Jane laughed as she reached for her coat and purse. “Yes. Yes, they should.” She slipped her coat on. “What time is Troy picking you up tomorrow night?”
“Five forty-five, so we can be there at six, since that’s the start of the cocktail hour.”
“I’m planning on being at the hotel by five thirty. Just to be on the safe side. Mitch is going to meet me there since I’m going so early.”
“That’s no fun.”
“It’s okay. I don’t think Mitch and I have all that muc
h in common anyway. He’s a sports nut and I like the arts.”
“He is a high school football coach.”
“Exactly. Good looking, hunky as heck, but once again, not the right guy for me.”
That evening at home, instead of curling up with a book, Taylor gave herself a manicure and pedicure as she sat in the living room with Kara. The TV was on but Kara was reading through a huge stack of legal briefs and Taylor wasn’t really paying attention to the television program.
“What color did you decide for your nails?” Kara asked, without looking up from her paperwork.
“Red.”
“Good choice. So you’ve decided to wear the Lily Jewel gown?”
“No. Can’t wear it.” Taylor frowned at the smudge in her little toenail and debated redoing the nail, and then figured it was fine. No one would be looking that closely at her feet. “It’s too… everything… for me. And I’d be terrified I’d tear it or spill something on it.”
“She’s giving it to you.”
“Well, I’m giving it back. She should have someone rich and famous wear that dress. Not a boring librarian like me.” Taylor screwed the cap on the nail polish, and stretched, relaxed, and happy. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m really looking forward to tomorrow night.”
“Finally. I’ve been worried about you. You have Marietta’s hottest bachelor taking you to the ball. You should be counting your blessings, girl.”
“I am, but not because he’s Marietta’s hottest bachelor, but because he’s really nice. And smart. And funny. Kara, he makes me laugh and I don’t think I ever laugh that much with anyone else.” Taylor made a face. “I think that’s what has worried me. I really do like spending time with him.”
“So why is that bad?”
“Because it’s not going to go anywhere. We’ll attend the dance and then he’ll return to San Francisco and I’ll go back to my life, and I’m not calling it boring, but it’s certainly not razzle dazzle and if I am being completely honestly…it’s going to be hard to go back to my life the way it was. This has been fun. He’s been fun. He is like Prince Charming.”
Kara’s expression softened. “You like him.”
For a moment Taylor couldn’t speak. She had fallen for Troy, just a little bit, but even that little bit was enough to make her heart ache. To make her wish that fairy tales did come true. “It’s going to be fine.” She glanced down at her glossy red toes and suddenly the polish blurred and she was having to blink hard to clear her eyes. “It’ll take a week or two and then I’ll be back in my routine.”
“But first, you’re going to enjoy the ball,” Kara said firmly.
“Exactly.” Taylor impatiently wiped her eyes dry, her smile wry. “And I am going to enjoy the ball. It’ll be a night to remember.”
She went to bed nervous but woke up excited. For several minutes after waking up, she just thought about the day to come and how it was so out of her norm, and yet that’s also what made it so exciting. She’d had so many reservations but those were gone now and she just wanted to enjoy tonight, and she would.
Leaving bed, Taylor showered and dressed, humming show tunes. She didn’t know she’d switched from humming to singing until Kara entered the kitchen and joined Taylor in the chorus from Oklahoma’s Oh What a Beautiful Morning.
They laughed as the last note faded.
“Wow,” Taylor said, reaching for her thermos of coffee, and blushing. “I don’t think we’ve ever started the day that way.”
“It was a surprise,” Kara answered, grinning as she fastened her coat. “I guess you’re in a good mood.”
“I guess so.” Taylor tucked the thermos in her tote bag. “Will I see you later this afternoon?”
“Absolutely. I want to see you all dressed. There is no way I am going to miss that.”
All morning Taylor thought about seeing Troy that evening, and wondered if she ought to send him a text saying hello and that she was looking forward to seeing him. She wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate, though. She also wondered if she was supposed to get him flowers…a boutonniere. But no, that’s what you did for a high school dance or a wedding, not a Valentine’s Ball.
At least, she hoped she was right.
At noon she ate lunch at her desk in the staff room, and was still picking at her half sandwich when she got a text from Troy.
All good? he texted.
Yes, she answered. You?
Great. Just wanted to be sure you weren’t getting cold feet.
She laughed. No cold feet, she texted back. See you tonight. Hanging up, she put away the rest of her lunch and returned to work.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with Taylor keeping an eye on the time since she was leaving work early to get her hair done for tonight.
Fifteen minutes before her hair appointment, Taylor grabbed her purse, coat, and said goodnight to Louise and Margaret and was heading for the door when she spotted a tall lanky body perched on the edge of the wooden bench in the drafty library foyer.
His coat was open. His dark blond hair mussed. She knew who he was immediately.
Doug.
Her heart fell. It was bad. Terrible. He’d broken one of the rules of his probation, leaving Hogue Ranch without permission.
Taylor hadn’t even been able to speak. She just looked at him sitting on the bench, his head bent, his thin body angled forward, hands braced against his knees.
She sat down next to him. “Doug,” she whispered, unable to think of anything to say. All those months at Hogue…all that time…
He didn’t say a word. He just reached out and took her hand. Held it tightly.
His hand was icy cold and his fingers wrapped around hers, holding her hand snugly, desperately. She felt his pain. Felt his anger and pain and desperation.
He was in trouble. Not just trouble with Hogue, or the law, but trouble emotionally, psychologically.
“It’s okay,” she said.
He shook his head. His shoulders heaved. He made a rough sound deep in his chest. He was crying. Or trying not to cry. Either way, it broke her heart.
She wrapped an arm around his waist, hugged him, feeling the crisp frost on his coat. He was chilled through.
“What happened?” she asked.
He wouldn’t look at her. He turned his head so she couldn’t see his face. “Can’t live like this. Can’t continue like this.”
For a second she couldn’t breathe. “The depression’s back?”
“It never goes.”
“Then we don’t have you on the right medicine.”
“I’ve been telling everyone that, but no one listens.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s too late. They’ll arrest me now for leaving the ranch.”
“But if you needed help, medical help—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He ran his hand beneath his eyes. “Doesn’t change me. Doesn’t change my future. Can’t live like this, Taylor. I’d be better off dead.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t imagine life without you.” She squeezed him again, pressing as close as she could, needing to send love into him, through him, healing love, and hope. She needed hope, too. She loved her brother more than anything. Her parents might have abandoned him, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Ever. “We just need the right doctor and the right medicine and we just have to take it one step at a time.”
“I’m so sorry, Taylor. I’m so sorry for everything.”
“It’s not your fault. Your brain is wired differently, but it’s still a beautiful brain, and you are a beautiful man and we’re going to get this sorted out. I promise.”
He lifted his head and looked at her. “You think?”
She inhaled as she saw his black eye and swollen nose. “What happened?”
His head dropped again. “Nothing.”
Something had happened. His face was black and blue. “Who did it?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
&nb
sp; “Of course, it does.”
“I tried to avoid the fight. I did.”
“How did it happen, and with who?”
“Doesn’t matter. I left Hogue. I broke my contract. I’ll be going to jail.”
“Maybe. And maybe not,” Taylor said, remembering what McKenna had said about hiring a good attorney. Maybe it was time to ask for favors from her friends here. McKenna knew the right people. Maybe it was time to reach out and ask for help. Brock Sheenan might be a good person to approach. The worst thing he could do was say no. “We’ll go to Kara’s,” she added. “Make some calls, come up with a plan. Alright?”
“Who will we call tonight? Isn’t that Valentine Ball taking place this evening over at the Graff?”
The ball.
Troy.
For a moment she’d forgotten all about tonight’s ball. Remembering, made her breath catch, and her heart tumble to her feet.
She wasn’t going to be able to go.
She was going to miss tonight after all.
She blinked back tears, hating herself for even feeling sorry for herself. Doug was in trouble. Doug needed her. She couldn’t desert him now.
“Yes,” she said. “The ball is tonight. So let’s go home. Work on that plan, okay?”
Chapter Ten
‡
Troy was in the shower in his suite at the Graff when the text arrived. He didn’t notice the text until he’d finished shaving and dressing. It was while he was adjusting his tie in front of the bathroom mirror that his phone, left on the gleaming white marble counter, caught his eye.
He had a message.
He picked up the phone, checked it. It was from Taylor.
Doug showed up at the library this afternoon. He’s gotten himself into some trouble. Can’t go tonight. So very sorry. Apologies!!
He read the message a second time, disappointment washing through him.
She was bailing on him at the last minute, and yes, her brother was more important than the ball, but he’d be lying if he didn’t have some mixed emotions. He told himself she wasn’t rejecting him, but in light of all the ups and downs of the past week, perhaps he should have expected this.
