Mr. Congeniality

by Sherry Lewis

  “Yes, it is.” Her mother’s voice grew warm and soft. “But it’s also very rewarding to see your child become an adult and to know that you can trust her to do what’s right.”

  There was little doubt what she meant by that. “How did you get to be so wise?”

  Her mother laughed. “It’s a gift, sweetie. I’m glad you recognize it. I promise that if you’ll listen with your heart, you’ll find it, too, and you’ll know instinctively what to do.”

  Annie leaned her head against the chair and closed her eyes. And prayed with all her heart that her mother was right.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  BY MID-AUGUST, DEAN was a bundle of nerves. Things were better with Tyler, but he still hadn’t committed to staying, and Dean’s last few conversations with Carol had been as unsatisfying as the first two. Irma and Les were making plans to visit grandchildren in the fall. Gary was talking about a visit home after the last of their guests departed. But Dean couldn’t make any plans. It felt as if his whole life was hanging in the balance, waiting for other people to make decisions.

  His relationship with Annie was no exception. He knew that she was being bombarded from all sides and did his best not to exert pressure on her, but the waiting was beginning to wear on him. Maybe this is what he got for avoiding commitment for so long. If this hell was anything like what Hayley had felt while waiting for him to decide how he felt, it was no wonder she’d walked out on him.

  And to make matters worse, he was having trouble breaking even financially. Reservations for the following week were dismally small and the phone calls for new bookings just hadn’t been coming in. His former teammates were having a winning season—good for them, not so good for Dean’s business, since the chances of them actually being able to come to the Eagle’s Nest were growing slimmer with every game they won.

  He checked his watch and downed a pain pill on schedule, then punched numbers on his adding machine and made a face when he saw the total. He tried again and tossed his pencil onto the desktop when the bottom line didn’t come out any healthier. If this kept up, he didn’t know where he’d find the money to keep the ranch open for a second season. And he had no idea what he’d do if this venture failed.

  Maybe Gary was right. He needed a gimmick to set the Eagle’s Nest apart from its competition. Fate had tossed a real gourmet chef into his lap, but it was too late to advertise that this year and Annie wouldn’t be here next season. Besides, he refused to use Annie to make the Eagle’s Nest profitable.

  He picked up his pencil again, ready to start crunching numbers, but when he heard the sound of a car’s engine through the open window he got to his feet quickly. Gary had taken a small fishing group into the mountains and Annie had gone into town with Les and Irma. It was too soon for them to be back. Maybe it was a family with a wallet full of cash, just looking for a place to spend it all.

  Laughing a little, Dean glimpsed a maroon sedan bouncing up the dirt road toward the lodge. It stopped in a cloud of dust a few feet from the front door, and the single occupant stayed inside and waited for the air to clear.

  Dean hurried into the great room to check the reservations log. Maybe he’d missed something when he scanned the register earlier. Through the open front door, he saw a man climb out of the car and straighten slowly. He lifted a pair of sunglasses from his eyes, and stared at the cabins for a few seconds before turning back to the lodge.

  Something about the guy bothered Dean, but he couldn’t say what it was. Maybe it was the expensive-looking silk shirt, or the casual slacks and polished leather shoes. The man didn’t seem like someone who’d be interested in spending a few days at a dude ranch.

  The visitor lowered his sunglasses again, reached into the back seat and pulled out a garment bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he started toward the lodge. Tall and dark, thin and wiry, he didn’t seem like the outdoors type at all. But looks didn’t mean anything, Dean reminded himself. Mrs. George, the plump middle-aged woman who’d arrived a couple of days ago with four children didn’t look like the outdoors type, either.

  Dean stepped out on the porch and realized almost immediately what he didn’t like about the guy. The other man was studying everything from the yard to the lodge to the dirt as if he found it all distasteful. As if it were all far beneath him.

  That only made Dean more curious about why he was here.

  He leaned against a post and waited while the man climbed the steps and set his garment bag down on the porch railing and gave him the same once-over he’d been using on the grounds. “You work here?”

  Dean dipped his head. “I do.”

  “Who do I see about getting a room?”

  “I can help you.”

  “Really?” He gave Dean another long appraising stare, as if he didn’t believe someone wearing a cowboy hat and boots could actually read the registration form.

  “How long do you plan to stay?” Dean would give the guy forty-eight hours before the dirt under his fingernails sent him scurrying back to civilization.

  “I’m not sure yet.” The visitor picked up his garment bag again and looked expectantly at the door. “Where do we go?”

  Dean pushed away from the post and led him inside. He felt a tingle of satisfaction when the guy’s step faltered as they stepped through the doors, and a burst of pride when he glanced over his shoulder and saw him admiring the view.

  The man turned toward him slowly. “This is impressive. Surprising, actually.”

  “Thanks.” Dean couldn’t be sure, but he thought he sensed a tinge of regret in the man’s voice. Was he a competitor trying to check out Dean’s operation? If so, he wasn’t being very subtle.

  Dean found a registration card and put it on the desk. “If you’ll just fill this out, we’ll find you a cabin.”

  The man draped his garment bag across a chair and came toward the registration desk. “Sure.” He picked up a pen and tapped it on the polished wood surface. “A cabin, huh?” He glanced around the room again. “Do you have anything available in this building?”

  “Sorry. We don’t have any guest rooms here. Guests stay in the cabins.”

  “That’s too bad. This is quite nice.” The man pulled down his sunglasses and met Dean’s gaze with a smile. “Not what I expected, to be honest.”

  Dean forced a smile and refrained from asking what the hell the guy had expected. Money was money, and this guy carried himself like a person who had some to spare. “If rustic’s what you want, you won’t be disappointed with the cabins.”

  “I’m not looking for rustic,” the stranger confessed. “But I’ll put up with it if I have to.” He glanced over Dean’s shoulder as if he expected to see someone else there. “I’m here to see my wife and daughter.”

  Dean’s nerves tingled in warning, but he didn’t want to jump to the wrong conclusion. “Are they guests here?”

  “Not exactly.” He put down his pen and held out a hand. “Spence Holladay. I believe my wife is working here.”

  It was all Dean could do to shake the man’s hand, and it took even more effort to keep the smile on his face. “You’re Nessa’s dad?”

  “I am.” Spence filled in the blanks on his registration card and handed it back to Dean. “So, where do I go?”

  The temptation to tell him where he thought he should go was almost irresistible. Dean tucked the registration card into the desk drawer to keep Annie from stumbling across it before he had a chance to warn her. He grabbed the key for cabin twelve from the strongbox and motioned toward the front door. “I’ll show you.”

  Questions darted through Dean’s mind as they walked. Had Annie invited him here? Had Nessa? Or was this a surprise visit? How would Annie react when she found out he was here?

  And what would he do if she decided to leave with Spence?

  ANNIE LOADED HER ARMS with groceries and carried them up the porch stairs into the kitchen. Little by little, she’d been adding new items to Dean’s meal plans and he’d stopped putting u
p even a token resistance. Her work was more satisfying this way, but it still didn’t match cooking in her own kitchen, preparing meals that required all of her skill and artistic ability.

  The summer was nearly over and Annie was no closer to knowing what to do. Her indecision was making her a nervous wreck. Teaching looked less appealing by the day, and the idea of living without Nessa was harder to face, not easier. But she couldn’t make herself agree to go back to Holladay House, and taking orders from Spence again—not to mention running in the same circles as Catherine. On the flip side, she couldn’t agree to stay at the Eagle’s Nest when she knew that she would wither without a culinary challenge, and she couldn’t bear the thought of doing something that could result in her resenting Dean.

  She’d talked to Gary a few times, but he’d only offered cryptic advice about the journey being more important than the destination, which only left her more frustrated than ever. She was beginning to believe that he’d eventually land on his feet and even find happiness, but she was having serious doubts about herself.

  Since she couldn’t seem to put her life in order, she’d spent the past few days focusing on which dishes she wanted to make for the Founder’s Day potluck dinner. Now, with the ingredients in hand, she nudged the kitchen door open with her hip and called over her shoulder to Les. “Would you mind bringing in that bag of things we bought at that roadside stand?”

  Les sketched a salute and reached deep into the truck bed for the bag she wanted.

  Stopping at the ramshackle stand had been the highlight of her day. Imagine finding so many wonderful, fresh vegetables right here in Whistle River. She’d astonished Les and Irma by buying up the poor farmer’s supply of jalapeños, but Annie had seen possibilities dancing in front of her eyes and she hadn’t been able to resist.

  She just hoped she’d remembered everything she needed to make that night’s campfire dinner. The drive into town didn’t feel long anymore, but it was still a little far to run for one forgotten ingredient. She set the bags on the counter and went outside for more. As she filled her arms again, she realized a car was parked in front of cabin twelve.

  Irma came outside for a bag of cleaning supplies and Annie nodded toward the cabin. “Isn’t that a new car?”

  Irma squinted to see it. “I do believe so.”

  “You didn’t check anyone new in before we left, did you?”

  “I didn’t.” Irma dragged the heavy box of laundry soap toward the tailgate. “Maybe Dean checked someone in while we were gone.”

  “That must be it. Well, he should be happy, then. Another occupied cabin is always welcome.” Annie picked up a twenty-five-pound bag of sugar. “I guess I should find out how many are in their party. I don’t want to be short on food tonight.”

  “And I ought to make sure they have plenty of towels.”

  Annie trailed Irma into the kitchen and left the sugar on the counter. Together, they walked into the great room and Annie dug through the cubbyhole beneath the telephone for the registration card. “It’s not here,” she told Irma. “Wouldn’t you think he’d follow his own rules?”

  Irma laughed. “Honey, Dean doesn’t follow anyone’s rules—especially not his own.” She pulled open the kneehole drawer of the desk and produced a registration card. “Here it is.” Irma’s gaze shot to hers. “Holladay, party of one.”

  A strange tingling sensation ripped through Annie’s body and a sense of disbelief flooded her. It had to be a mistake—or a horrible coincidence. She took the card from Irma and studied it, but her eyes wouldn’t focus on the familiar handwriting.

  That was a coincidence, too. A lot of people had similar handwriting. She rubbed her eyes and looked again just as his voice reached her.

  “Hello, Annie.”

  She dropped the card onto the registration desk and felt more than saw Irma stiffen at her side. Her heart slammed against her rib cage and anger got her moving again. How dare he show up here? How dare he?

  The sun glinted off his dark hair as he crossed the room. The gentle sway of his shoulders, the swing of his arms, the length of his stride were achingly familiar. They should be after sixteen years. She’d seen him in every kind of light, every mood, every situation imaginable. She’d been his wife for so long, there was nothing she didn’t know about him.

  She felt Irma watching her, asking for a silent indication of whether she should stay or go. “It’s okay, Irma. You can get back to what you were doing.”

  As Irma went into the kitchen, Spence drew up in front of Annie and reached out as if he intended to kiss her hello the way he always had.

  Annie jerked backward to avoid him. “What are you doing here?”

  Spence’s eyes widened slightly, but only for an instant. “No beating around the bush, huh?”

  Annie wasn’t going to let him pull her into a game of words. She crossed her arms and asked again. “What are you doing here, Spence?”

  “I’ve been worried about you, Annie. I wanted to see where you’ve hidden yourself away.”

  Had his eyes always been such a pale blue? And she didn’t remember them being set quite so close together. Once they’d dazzled her. Now they were…beady. She shook her head and told herself to stop analyzing. “I’m not hiding.”

  “Sorry. My mistake.” He trailed his eyes slowly around the lodge. “Then I wanted to see for myself that you’re okay.”

  “Your concern is touching, but it’s not welcome.”

  “Oh, come on, Annie.” Spence touched her shoulder before she saw his hand move. “I know you’re angry, but there’s no need to act like this.”

  “Like what, Spence?” Annie dashed a lock of hair from her forehead and put some distance between them. “Like a woman whose husband betrayed her? Like a woman whose ex-husband is intruding on her new life? Is that what you don’t want me to act like?” She glanced around the room. “Where is Catherine, by the way?”

  Spence adjusted his shirt with a twitch of his shoulders. Annie knew she’d touched a nerve. She wished she’d set it on fire. “She’s in Chicago, of course. We both thought it would be better for me to come alone.”

  “How sensitive.”

  “Okay. Fine. I screwed up and I deserve to be punished. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “No, Spence, that’s not what I want to hear. You’ve always been good at saying things, you’re not so good at meaning them.”

  “I mean this. I’ve been worried about you. I don’t want to see you self-destruct. And I’m not your ex-husband yet. We still have seven days to make things right.”

  Annie laughed harshly. “Why didn’t I realize before what an inflated opinion you have of yourself? Why would I self-destruct just because you don’t love me?”

  “But I do love you. I always have.”

  “If having sex with another woman is how you show that you love someone, I’m sorry for the people you merely like.” Looking at him made everything inside her tighten with hurt and anger. He still showed no honest remorse for what he’d done. “Go home, Spence. You’re not welcome here. We’re doing fine without you.”

  She couldn’t believe the disdain that crossed Spence’s face. “You never were a very good liar. You don’t really expect me to believe that?”

  A knot of tension formed between Annie’s shoulders and outrage made her head pound. “I don’t care what you believe.”

  “You’re being a fool, Annie. Come back to Holladay House.”

  “And work with you?” Her decision suddenly became crystal clear. “Not if my life depended on it.”

  “Be realistic. You’re too professional to throw away your career over this. At least I thought you were.”

  She glared at him. “You make it sound as if infidelity is something trivial.”

  “And you make it sound like the end of the world. For God’s sake, it was one mistake.”

  “One? It went on for months before I found out and you would never have told me if I hadn’t walked in and found the two
of you together. And the affair is still going on. Or does your calling it a mistake mean that you’re tired of Catherine now?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m tired of. I’m tired of the way you’re keeping all our lives on hold. I’m tired of the way you’re making the whole family suffer because of some need you have to punish me.”

  Annie folded her arms defensively. “If your life is on hold, that’s your doing, not mine. I’ve given you my answer a dozen times. It’s just not the answer you want. Now, please leave.”

  “Not until this is settled.”

  “It’s been settled since the day I found you and Catherine together.” Annie took a deep breath and added, “Since even before that, and we both know it. What you did hurt me, but you were right when you said the marriage was over a long time before that. There’s nothing personal we need to work out, and our professional life is just as dead. Please, can’t we end this with what little dignity we have left?”

  A shriek from the doorway cut off any response Spence might have made and a second later, Nessa threw her arms around his neck and held on with everything she had. “Daddy? What are you doing here? When did you get here? Are you staying? Please say you’re staying. I want to show you everything.”

  Spence hugged her enthusiastically and met Annie’s eyes over Nessa’s shoulder. “I’d love to see everything, muffin. And I even came prepared to stay for a while just in case. But I don’t want to stay unless it’s okay with your mother.”

  Annie could have throttled him for putting her in that position, but she also realized that he’d been doing the same thing for years. Spence made sure he was the good guy; Annie the one who administered discipline. Spence said yes. Annie said no. Ice-cold resentment made the ache in Annie’s head worse, but the smile on Nessa’s face froze the words on her tongue.

  For once, Annie wasn’t going to be the bad guy. Spence would have to fill that role himself. “You’ve already checked into a cabin,” she said as sweetly as she could manage. “Why would I ask you to leave?”