The Marriage Season

by Linda Lael Miller

  “I’ll lock up for lunch,” Hadleigh said. “Let’s go to the back room. I can clear enough space for us to eat, and there’s bottled water in the minifridge.”

  The back room always had scraps of material on the floor and various works in progress next to the sewing machines, but there was a small table surrounded by four chairs.

  “So, emergency meeting. What’s up?” Melody opened her bottle of water and lost no time in getting down to business.

  “It’s not an emergency,” Bex argued. “Well, not really. I just need to talk about something.”

  “You said EM,” Haleigh said, referring to their personal shorthand for “emergency meeting.” She passed out the food. “Okay, spill.”

  “Tate called and asked me to go on this fishing trip with the boys. I need a second—and third opinion—on whether I should. He told his boys that he was willing to invite Greg, too. But…Tate called this morning and said Josh wants me to go instead.”

  Hadleigh didn’t look surprised. “Yeah, it’s true. Tripp heard them talking about it last night. Somehow boys think they’re whispering, but the truth is, they aren’t at all. They’re worse than deaf old ladies in church. Anyway, Josh isn’t interested in his dad going along. He’d rather have you.”

  “I’m flattered,” Bex said, briefly shutting her eyes. “And yet it breaks my heart. Tate’s sons adore him. Josh should have that.”

  “What he needs is a rock.” Melody tossed them each a napkin. “And you’re his rock right now. When Tara gets it together, he might trust her again. Let’s hope… Remember how much trust is involved in being a child? Someone has to feed you, take you to school, pick you up, make you smile now and then. So he wants you because you already do all those things for him. Seems logical to me. What’s the real question, Bex? I don’t think we’re talking about Josh at an EM. Of course you’ll go. We’re talking about Tate Calder, aren’t we?”

  “He has you tempted, doesn’t he?” Hadleigh sent her a knowing look. “Can’t say I blame you. I’ve proven to be susceptible myself with regard to Tripp, which explains the baby bump. What’s the problem?”

  Their unswerving support meant a lot. “I’m…not ready.”

  “It’s ten years since Will died,” Hadleigh reminded her gently. “I understand it might feel disloyal—caring for someone else, I mean—but it isn’t.” Hadleigh’s eyes had turned glassy with tears. “I miss Will, too, Bex, but life goes on. It has to.”

  Melody stepped in, reaching over to squeeze Bex’s hand. “Will loved you. We love you, but no one expects you to sit around by yourself for the rest of your life—hence the marriage pact. On that note, no decisions have to be made today, either. Go on the trip for Josh. You’ll have fun. And the more time you spend with Tate, the more easily you’ll be able to figure out if he is the one.”

  “We’ve been on one date,” Bex retorted. Not including the day they went running together, she added to herself. She picked up her sandwich. “I hope the two of you realize there’s an outhouse included in this excursion. When Tate called, I could tell he didn’t want to impart that information, but to give him credit, he did.”

  “Ouch.” Hadleigh had recovered, blinking back the tears brought on by the mention of Will’s name. “Okay, I concede that’s not perfect. If Mel and I were there, we’d be in trouble.”

  “Our husbands would be in trouble,” Melody insisted. “If Spence thought for a minute that I was going outside in the middle of the night without him, he’d be wrong. I’d be waking him up every few hours.”

  Bex stared down at her bracelet and touched the charm Melody had created for her. An airplane, ironically enough. Ironic because Tate hadn’t even entered the scene when Mel gave it to her. The tiny charm was supposed to represent the ongoing success of her business, which had expanded within the state and in neighboring states, as well. Mel had joked that she’d probably meet someone on her travels… Which was fine, her friends had said, “as long as you bring him back home.” But the way things were turning out, she didn’t even have to leave home. “Tate’s got a lot of history, too,” she said, “and while Ben and Adam are great, dealing with Josh is interesting enough. Four males is about three too many.”

  Hadleigh took a bite of her burger. “So, you’re going, then. Good choice.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “I agree, good choice.” Melody took a bite of hers, too. “Give Tate a call, Bex, and accept.”

  Her best friends turned to her expectantly.

  She backed down. “Fine, I’ll call him. And when I get there, I’ll use an outhouse—not that I’ve got any alternative. Call me when you have two six-year-olds with an eight-year-old thrown in free of charge. And don’t ask me to help. I suspect I’ll be in the mode of never-doing-that-again.”

  “You’ll probably have to take at least one fish off the hook.” Hadleigh made a face. “Yuck, I hate that.” She tucked into her food, apparently not put off by the memory. “Of course you could make Tate do the honors.”

  “That part of fishing is not fun.” Mel nodded, helping herself to a french fry. “It’s those cold mornings that freak me out. Mist drifting over the lake, noises in the woods… I always think it’s Bigfoot.”

  “I’m a believer.” Hadleigh’s eyes sparkled again, but with laughter now. Her voice dropped to a theatrical whisper. “So if you hear a thump in the middle of the night, don’t look outside.”

  “I’m going to strangle you both,” Bex threatened. “And by the way, all of these pickles are mine.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT HAD BEEN a long week. And now Friday had finally arrived. Fishing Friday, as Tate thought of it.

  At least the plumbing was finished, and the electricians were nearly done. He was pleased with how the house looked; he particularly liked the two dormers on the second floor and the roomy front porch. The interior was still just a shell full of boxes, and the floors would be the last to go in. He’d also attended three horse sales, and even bought one mare that Tripp was currently boarding for him. There’d been a chili supper at the school and a science project for Ben. Money wasn’t an issue yet, but not working bothered him, and he was stressed from chasing after the kids and answering a dozen questions a day on the house construction.

  And he couldn’t stop thinking about Bex Stuart.

  Once she’d accepted his invitation to join them on the fishing trip, he’d made a point of not calling her because he didn’t want to seem pushy. Besides, he was still sorting out a few things himself.

  He stowed the fishing poles in the bed of the truck and went into the garage to dig out his tackle box and a net, and to find the box labeled Camping Gear. As the male in charge of their little expedition, he wasn’t going anywhere without a kerosene lantern, two flashlights with fresh batteries, his fillet knife in case they actually caught a fish or two of legal size, his trusty iron frying pan, and some basics like salt and pepper. Already he’d stowed canned goods—including green beans, corn, chicken noodle and tomato soup, along with a box of crackers, some fruit and a box of cereal—in a plastic container to keep out mice. They’d be able to pick up some groceries; Russ had assured him there was a small store in the nearest town.

  Luckily, he had three life vests, since Ben had outgrown his and had a new one, so that was covered as far as Josh was concerned. He was fairly sure Bex didn’t have a kid-size one lying around. Maybe her sister would think of it, but he doubted it.

  He’d been through an unfortunate marriage. They’d been people with different expectations, different, even contradictory, hope and dreams—to put it mildly. Putting it more harshly meant that words like fraud and infidelity and dishonesty would be involved. So he understood that unhappiness could take its toll.

  At any rate, back to the practicalities of the moment. Josh had a vest, too, the truck was packed and they were ready to go.

  He called Tripp. “About to depart on the grand adventure. So what am I forgetting? Help me out. School’s ov
er in thirty minutes.”

  “Poles and tackle?”

  “Check.”

  “Snacks?”

  “On it.” He had about seven kinds of granola bars, some whole-grain chips and popcorn.

  “Beer for you?”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “Wine for Bex?”

  He swore softly. “Not yet, but thanks for mentioning it. What kind is it she likes again?”

  Luckily, Tripp knew. Well, not really. But he went and asked Hadleigh and gave him the name of a California chardonnay. Oh, yeah, sounded familiar now. Wasn’t that what she’d had at the restaurant in Cheyenne?

  “Sleeping bags, medical emergency kit, extra towels?”

  The towels weren’t a bad idea. Tate tossed a couple in his bag.

  “Don’t forget to pack your fortitude.”

  “My…what?”

  “Fortitude. You know, the thing that might make it possible for you to endure a weekend of fishing with a female and three young boys. I have it on excellent authority that Bex isn’t thrilled about the outhouse situation.”

  “Me neither, but at least it’s a cabin, not a tent in the woods. Besides, I warned her about this setup. I considered waiting until we got there and letting it all come as a surprise. So I was a nice guy, and I want an engraved plaque congratulating me.”

  “If you survive this, I’ll see that you get your plaque.”

  “Thanks,” he said in an equally sardonic tone. “If I don’t return, send out a search party.”

  “Will do, but I bet she’ll know how to cleverly dispose of your body. So I’d recommend you be as charming as possible.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  The call ended, he tossed his bag into the truck, went through his mental checklist one final time and headed over to the school. All three boys were waiting; he had to go to the office and sign Josh out since he wasn’t a parent. The secretary said, “They’ve been on the unruly side today. They’re so excited about this trip. You might want to brace yourself for the drive.”

  This was what he liked about Mustang Creek. Yes, people knew what you were doing, and that could be uncomfortable, but they also cared about what you were doing. He smiled at Ms. Wainwright, who seemed bossy and overbearing on the surface but, as he’d discovered, was kind beneath that brusque exterior.

  “It’s very kind of you to invite Joshua.” She handed him a slip of paper and peered at him over her glasses. “Becca Stuart is a very pretty young woman, isn’t she?”

  Word sure got around. Tate merely nodded, then beat a hasty retreat, mumbling, “Have a good weekend.”

  The boys were still standing with the teacher supervising the children getting on the bus, and he noticed a tightening in his throat as he saw them talking excitedly to each other, backpacks in place, small tennis shoes on their feet, Ben laughing and giving Adam a friendly shove.

  No way did he regret turning down that lucrative corporate job in order to move to this small town. He’d missed too much with his children as it was. He walked up and handed the teacher the slip of paper. “I think they’re all mine now.”

  “I recommend a tranquilizer gun,” the young man overseeing the process said with humor in his voice. “Aim it at yourself. This trio is bent on conquering the wilderness, one fish at a time. I can’t wait to hear their stories next week. I hope you have a net big enough to haul in a whale or two.”

  “I’ve heard these guys are more than a little wound up.” He put a restraining hand on Adam’s shoulder since he could sense he was going to reciprocate that shove from his brother. “I don’t have a fillet knife big enough for that job, so all whales are catch and release. Come on, boys, let’s go pick up Aunt Bex.”

  Cheers all around. He could only dream of being so popular.

  Once they were in the truck, safely buckled in, backpacks at their feet, he sent her a text just before he pulled out of the school parking lot.

  You ready? We’re on our way.

  Her reply was almost instant.

  At the fitness center. See you there.

  Bex’s gym was on his route out of town. He was grateful—for a number of very obvious reasons—that she’d been willing to take the weekend off. Thanks to expanding her business, Bex’s schedule was intense. He hoped that would be his problem someday, since being an entrepreneur was a new experience for him.

  It made him nervous, hanging his children’s future on a dream, but he also had confidence that he could do whatever it took to bring that dream to life.

  But this weekend, anyway, he wasn’t going to worry about anything, just kick back and enjoy himself.

  *

  BEX SIGNED THE LAST check and closed the ledger, her mind on the time. Payroll was done, and her manager would handle the fitness center. Meanwhile, her need to micromanage her sister’s life wasn’t helping much at all. Or was it?

  She’d given Tara a job at the club, working as a receptionist. Tara seemed to be enjoying the attention—not to mention being relatively free of parental responsibility for the first time in six years. Bex couldn’t decide whether she was making a positive difference in her sister’s life or just enabling.

  Tara hadn’t so much as blinked an eye over the fact that Josh wanted Bex to go on the fishing trip instead of Greg. Or her. In fact, Tara had agreed to the plan without hesitation. Josh, she’d concluded cheerfully, would be better off with Aunt Bex. Well, Aunt Bex didn’t mind, but she wasn’t his mother.

  Sighing, she checked her watch. They’d be there any minute, Tate and the boys. Was she ready?

  She had packed what she considered a modest-sized suitcase, and Tate Calder had no business objecting. For a trip like this, she required clean clothes, a couple of different coats for different weather possibilities, and she’d only packed three pairs of shoes.

  It was, however, a bit heavier than it looked. She wheeled it outside.

  When Tate got out of his truck and approached to grab it, the boys waving from the backseat, Bex told him sternly, “Don’t say a word. There’s chocolate in there, too. Care to comment?”

  “No, ma’am.” He hefted it into the back of the truck. It made a solid clunk as it landed.

  “We’ll be gone for three days,” she said. She could tell she sounded mildly defensive. And three days was stretching it; they’d arrive at the cabin sometime late afternoon and leave around that time on Sunday.

  So, yes. She might have overpacked. A little.

  “Remind me not to go on a vacation in Europe with you,” he teased.

  She sent him a venomous glare. “In your dreams. Now take me to this backwater without a bathroom where I am required to get up at the crack of dawn and put worms on a hook. The truth is, I’m so tired of paperwork, I’m almost excited about roughing it for a while.”

  “I bought you wine,” he offered, “but it’s a three-hour drive to get there. So you’ll have time to decompress. I’m told the view from the screened porch is really beautiful, day or night.”

  Bex wished Tate didn’t look so boyishly attractive and yet utterly sophisticated at the same time. When he opened her door, she got in and said, “With an outdoor bathroom, it had better be.” Then she realized her tone was a bit cranky and relented. “Sorry, I’m not a princess, I promise. All this corporate stuff I’m dealing with has me frazzled. Thanks for getting the wine. That was thoughtful of you. And the porch sounds great.”

  When he slid into the driver’s seat, he said lightly, “You’re allowed to be frazzled now and then. Wait until the end of this weekend. I suspect ultimate frazzlization for both of us.”

  The chatter from the backseat supported that theory.

  “Frazzlization is a word?” Bex asked, relaxing for the first time all day.

  “It is now. I just invented it.” He deftly put the car in drive and they pulled out. “We’ll find out if it’s dictionary worthy this weekend. Even Ms. Wainwright said the boys were geared up.”

  She was glad t
o hear that Josh was excited about something. However, she wasn’t happy that Tara had plans to meet with Greg so they could discuss the divorce, but she wasn’t her sister’s keeper, so she needed to let it go.

  “I have to warn you I’m really good at catching fish.”

  Tate glanced over at her. “Warn me?”

  “It isn’t a skill,” Bex said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t tell you this. I should act like I have some secret expertise, but what happens is I throw in a line, and a fish bites it. Some sort of weird karma. As far as I can tell, I can’t not catch fish. My father used to stick a pole in my hand and then laugh the entire time. He’d take it back and reel them in. He’s always said he’s surprised they don’t just jump in the boat and land at my feet.”

  “So, obviously, you’re good at it.”

  “No, you’re missing the point. I’m lucky at it, that’s all. If you want to talk weight training, I’m good at that. When it comes to fishing, there’s no skill involved on my part. To be honest, other than sitting in the sun and admiring the scenery, I’m not a real fishing fan. So I’m warning you that once I’ve got one on the line, you’ll have to run the show.”

  “Hey, you’re already the favorite person around these parts, and you’ll be even more popular if fish levitate out of the water and land in your lap.”

  “The favorite?”

  “The boys talk about Aunt Bex all the time. They love you, all three of them.”

  Josh’s feelings she understood. She’d known him all his life, and at the moment Tara wasn’t what you’d call emotionally available. And, she supposed, Ben and Adam didn’t have a mother, so it followed that they might look at her the same way their friend did.

  She wasn’t even sure about the likelihood of a relationship with Tate, so his sons’ apparent adoration was overwhelming. Then again, both Hadleigh and Mel were pregnant and how overwhelming was that? She could deal with this.

  “I love them right back.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m just grateful you’re taking me away. I dealt with my share of headaches today. One more phone call and I might have lost it.”