“You’re right on time,” someone said. “Marsha is just antsy.” “What’s that you’re wearing?” Marsha came over to Sunny now, closely investigating the buckskin jacket.
Sunny quickly explained, wondering if this was going to happen everywhere she went, or whether she simply was crossing paths with the fashion-conscious people today.
“It’s exquisite.” Marsha made her turn around now. “Very, very nice. In fact, maybe you’d want to wear it for one or two of the shots.”
“But it’s not a Pendleton design.” Sunny was confused.
“That can be explained. It might be a fun touch for the catalog. Perhaps we pair it with a native print skirt and boots. Yes, that would be attractive. We won’t do it today in the woolen mill, but when we do an outdoor shoot. If you don’t mind.”
Sunny wasn’t sure. “I guess not.”
“Oh, good. Now you girls start getting changed.” She eyed the jacket again. “But you better put the jacket with our purses and things. It’s too valuable to leave lying around.”
The Pendleton Woolen Mill was both a retail store and a working mill. Most of the shots were taken in the mill area, near looms and machinery or huge bolts of fabric. Sunny wanted to check everything out but knew her job was to stay focused and model.
“I wish we had more time to actually see the mill and how it works,” she said as they were changing into what were supposed to be the final outfits.
“They have tours all the time,” Aubrey explained. “You can come back and see the whole thing if you want.”
“Oh, good.” Sunny slipped into a plaid 49-ers jacket, then waited as one of the fashion assistants added accessories and another one made adjustments to her hair. Tyrone was the main cameraman again, but either she was improving or his patience had increased, because he hadn’t snarled at her once today.
Finally, Marsha seemed satisfied, and everyone was free to go. “But I’ll see you all at Hamley’s tomorrow at seven o’clock sharp. We only have two hours, so don’t be late.”
“And now we go home,” Aubrey said as they got back into Sunny’s car. “Hey, thanks for driving. My Beemer’s been so temperamental lately I wouldn’t trust it outside the Portland city limits. Maybe I should trade it in for something like this.”
“I actually traded my grandmother’s ‘58 Chevy Bel Air in for this. I felt a little guilty at the time, because I know how she loved that old car—although she hardly ever drove it. She hated to drive. But the Chevy’s gas mileage was ridiculous. I figured in about ten years what I saved on gas would pay for the Prius.”
“Such a practical girl.”
Sunny tried not to bristle. It wasn’t as if she’d never heard that comment before. Reuben used to drive her nuts with his “playful” little jabs. He did it so much that he finally had the entire staff giving her grief for simply being sensible. In some ways, she wouldn’t miss that job.
They drove about five minutes out of town, down an asphalt road, through a tall log archway with LOWENSTEIN LAZY L written in metal letters above it, then down a long driveway. “Wow, this looks like a big place,” Sunny observed as she drove toward a group of buildings, including a long, low ranch-style house, a smaller building, several barn-like structures, and some other outbuildings.
“It’s not the biggest ranch around—five thousand acres—but it’s enough to keep my dad and brother busy, as well as some hands. We raise cattle, hay and alfalfa, and grain.” She pointed over to the smaller building not too far from the main house. “Park over by the bunkhouse.”
“That’s a bunkhouse?”
“That’s what we call it. It’s actually a little bit nicer than that. But Mom is putting us out there because she already promised the guest rooms to other relatives for Round-Up. That way we won’t have to move. Plus, we get more privacy in the bunkhouse anyway.”
That sounded good to Sunny. She pulled up in front of what looked like a hitching post. “Is it okay to park here?”
“Perfect. We’ll dump our stuff inside, then go see if my mom’s home. I’m sure the guys are out in the field. Mom said they’re just finishing up harvest.”
As they unloaded the car, Sunny started feeling nervous. This was all so outside her comfort zone. Being away from home was one thing. But being a guest in a place where she was virtually a stranger filled her with real anxiety. Just breathe, she silently told herself as they went into the rustic bunkhouse. Just breathe.
Chapter Seven
The bunkhouse turned out to be less rustic and bigger than she expected. With three bedrooms, a compact kitchen, a bath and a powder room, it was about the same size as Sunny’s bungalow in Portland. And everything was done in western décor. With pine floors, open-beamed ceilings and log posts, rough-hewn wooden furnishings, leather sofa and chairs, and numerous Pendleton blankets, the house had a cozy cowboy sort of feel.
“This place is great,” Sunny said after Aubrey had showed her around. “I really like it.”
“We can have private rooms until the Tuesday before Round-Up,” Aubrey informed her. “Then we have to bunk together. But I asked Mom for the big room.”
“I hope we’re not putting her out.”
Aubrey laughed. “Hey, I’m the daughter. Don’t you think I should get a room when I come home to visit?”
Sunny wasn’t so sure about these arrangements. It was one thing for Aubrey to crash in on her parents like this, but that didn’t necessarily mean Sunny was welcome.
Aubrey made a sly grin. “Mom actually had to cancel on her cousin Glenda. She told her that she and her family would have to stay in a tent if they still wanted to come next week.”
“So we really did put someone out of a bed?”
Aubrey chuckled. “Glenda is not my mom’s favorite cousin.” She pointed to the oversized couch now. “And that thing makes into a queen-sized bed. So during Round-Up, this place will be packed with eight adults sharing a bath and a half. But, if you don’t tell anyone, you and I can sneak into the big house and use my mom’s shower if we want. And my dad rigs up outdoor solar showers for the guys to use.”
“Outdoor solar showers?” Sunny blinked. “Isn’t that kind of risqué?” Aubrey laughed. “My dad makes them private with plastic tarps.” “Oh, right. So how many people will be staying here at your parents’ ranch during Round-Up?”
“Good question. I’m guessing about fifty, but since this is the hundredth anniversary, it could be more. It’s like everyone and their great-aunt Betty want to be here next week.”
“Wow. Your parents’ house must be really big to hold that many people.”
“They’ll put up about twelve people in the house. Everyone else will be camping.”
“Oh.” Sunny tried to imagine this.
“Okay, do you want to flip for the big bedroom or—”
“No,” Sunny said quickly, “I’m happy in a smaller room. And, if it would help, maybe I can get a hotel room once this place starts filling up.”
“Good luck with that.” Aubrey chuckled as she tossed her suitcase onto a king-sized bed. “There won’t be an available hotel room for a hundred miles.”
“Really?” Suddenly Sunny was feeling uneasy, not to mention slightly trapped. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to stick around for all of Round-Up week. Once the photoshoot was finished, there was no reason Sunny couldn’t go home.
“Oh yeah, every room has been booked for months. Do you realize that close to a hundred thousand people are predicted to pass through this town next week?”
“And what’s the town’s population normally?”
“Around sixteen thousand, I think.”
“How can a town that small possibly accommodate so many people?”
Aubrey laughed. “Oh, it’ll get interesting. Trust me, it’ll get real interesting.”
Sunny took her things to one of the smaller bedrooms, setting them neatly in a corner and wondering if she should start unpacking yet. But before she could decide, Aubrey popped in.
“Come on,” she urged. “Let’s go see what Mom’s got cooking.”
As they walked over to the house, a pair of large black dogs ran up to Aubrey, barking and jumping happily as if they were glad to see her. “Meet Jasper and Jake,” Aubrey said as she stopped to stroke their sleek coats. “How you boys doing?”
“Labrador Retrievers?” Sunny asked as she bent down to pet a smooth head.
“My dad’s babies. Bird dogs.”
“Hey, Aubrey!” a woman’s voice called happily from the house. “Get yourself over here!”
“That’s Momma. We better get moving.” Aubrey started jogging toward the house with the dogs right on her heels. Sunny could almost imagine a younger Aubrey just then, running into the house to help her mom. What would it have been like to grow up in a place like this? It was so far outside of Sunny’s imagination that it almost made her head hurt just to think of it.
“And that must be Sunny,” a tan-faced woman with platinum hair called out. “Come on over here, and let me get a look at you, girl. A pair of fancy Pendleton models staying right here at my house. I’ve been bragging up you girls to all my friends. Crystal Sparks is pea green with envy, Aubrey. Remember how her daughter, Chelsea, tried to get into modeling for years?”
Sunny was on the back deck now, face-to-face with Aubrey’s mother.
“This is my good friend Sunny Westcott,” Aubrey said. “Pleasure to meet you.” Her mother reached out for Sunny’s hand, warmly squeezing it. “Such a pretty girl. No wonder you and Aubrey got picked to model.”
“Thank you. And it’s a pleasure to meet you too. You have a beautiful ranch here, Mrs. Lowenstein, and I—”
“No, no, don’t call me Mrs. Lowenstein. That just makes me feel old. Call me Cindy.” Now she looked at Sunny’s buckskin coat and smiled. “That is quite a jacket, young lady. Where on earth did you find that?”
To Sunny’s relief, Aubrey gave a quick explanation.
“Thank you,” Sunny said, “and thank you for your hospitality too. The bunkhouse is really nice.”
“I told her you had to throw Glenda out to accommodate us,” Aubrey said in a teasing tone.
“Now, don’t you go around saying things like that, Aubrey Louise. I told Glenda that we’d let them use our good camp tent and our camping things if they still want to come.” She slowly shook her head. “Do you know we’ll have about seventy people here? Your dad just cut the west hayfield for the big circle.”
“The big circle?” Sunny asked.
Cindy nodded. “That’s what we call the place where they circle the wagons.”
“They bring wagons here?”
Cindy laughed loudly. “Haven’t you told Sunny about any of this?” “Circling the wagons is where they park their camp trailers and RVs,” Aubrey explained. “We usually have about eight or so.”
“This year we’ll have about twenty,” Cindy announced.
“Wow!” Aubrey looked impressed.
“And there’ll be tents as well.”
“This is going to be like a three-ringed circus.” Aubrey shook her head.
“Tell me about it. I’ve been cooking for a week already.” Cindy was leading them into the house now.
“You mean you plan to feed all those people?” Sunny was stunned.
“No. Not all of them. But the ones who stay in the house. And not for all the meals. I just cook a bunch of stuff up, put it in the freezer, and pull it out as needed. I like to have things on hand. But a lot of people will eat at town or at the rodeo grounds or the levy.”
“The levy?”
“Well, it’s not actually on the levy anymore.” Cindy went over to the stove to check on an oversized pot. “We old-timers just call it that. It’s in the park now, where the Indians set up their wares—you know, food and jewelry and whatnot.” She stopped talking now, turning back to consider Sunny with a slightly curious expression.
“Sunny’s grandmother was born on the reservation,” Aubrey said quietly. “Sunny grew up in Portland, and she’s never been here.”
“I’m one-quarter Cayuse,” Sunny told Cindy, waiting for her reaction.
Cindy put the lid back on the pot. “That’s not so unusual around here, Sunny. I’m sure you’ll find you’re in good company.”
Sunny wasn’t sure how to respond to that “good company” comment, so she scanned the spacious room. “What a beautiful kitchen,” she said with real admiration.
“Thank you. I had it redone a few years ago. It used to be about a third this size. I just love it now. Especially at Round-Up.”
“I’ve been thinking about redoing my kitchen,” Sunny said. “But now I’m in between jobs, so it might be awhile.”
“Sunny owns her own home,” Aubrey bragged. “And she doesn’t have any debt.”
Cindy looked impressed. “Good for you. I hope you rub off on Aubrey.”
Aubrey made a face at her mom as she snatched a big sugar cookie from a cooling rack. “Help yourself,” she told Sunny.
Sunny hesitated.
“Does that mean you’re not a full-time model?” Cindy asked Sunny as she rinsed the wooden spoon off.
“I thought I already told you she used to be a college professor,” Aubrey said to her mom.
“Oh, I must’ve forgot.”
“The college I worked for did some downsizing,” Sunny explained. “Then I guess you were lucky to get involved in modeling.”
“And I can thank your daughter for that.”
Cindy went over to Aubrey, slipping an arm around her waist. “Well, good for you, sweetie. Now you girls just make yourselves at home for the next few days. But get ready for the onslaught on Tuesday and Wednesday next week.”
“Do you need help in here, Mom?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got a roast in the oven, and we’ll probably eat dinner around seven or so since your dad’s trying to get that hay turned over.” She reached over and ran her hand through Aubrey’s long blond hair. “It’s so good to see you, darling. And you look so pretty. Maybe you’ll catch yourself a husband this year.”
“Oh, Mom!” Aubrey stuck out her tongue.
“I’m just jerking your chain.” She looked at Sunny now. “Does your mother do that to you too? Nag about getting married and having—”
“Her mom died when she was a girl,” Aubrey filled in.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Cindy’s eyes grew really sad. “Well, we know all about that around here, Sunny.” She sighed. “By the way, Echo is out there, Aubrey. She’s been riding almost every day this summer. You should go say hello to your niece.”
“For sure.” Aubrey patted her mom’s cheek now, glancing at Sunny with hopeful eyes. “Can we just tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Cindy glanced curiously from Aubrey to Sunny. “Do you mind, Sunny?”
It took Sunny a moment to realize what Aubrey was talking about. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, it’s—”
“Tell me what?” Cindy looked worried now. “What’s going on with you girls?”
“Please,” Aubrey begged. “Mom won’t tell anyone else. We’ll swear her to secrecy.”
“Of course,” Cindy said quickly. “You can trust me.”
Sunny was caught now. She could tell by Cindy’s expression that she was worried about Aubrey’s sudden announcement. She was probably thinking the worst. And Sunny knew the comment about understanding losing a mother was related to the loss of her other daughter. “Okay,” Sunny said solemnly. “You can tell her. But do you mind if I use your restroom?”
“Down that hallway to your right,” Cindy said.
Sunny could hear their voices as she went down the hallway. She didn’t like that Aubrey had already broken her word. But she sort of understood. Aubrey had probably been trying to distract her mother from focusing on the loss of her other daughter. But hopefully Cindy would keep her promise and not mention this to anyone.
The restroom had a cowboy theme too. The mirror was framed in tooled leather, horseshoes serv
ed as robe hooks and towel bars, and several pairs of spurs hung decoratively on the plaid wallpaper. As Sunny dried her hands on towels embossed with bucking broncos, she wondered if the whole house was western décor—or if the Lowenstein family ever grew weary of cowboy chic. Probably not. It was their way of life.
When she returned to the kitchen, Cindy eagerly awaited her. “That is so exciting, Sunny. But I honestly don’t see why you want to keep it a secret. Jackson Sundown is a Round-Up legend. Everyone would be happy for you to have such an exciting heritage.”
“Except that I don’t know if it’s really true.”
“Sunny needs some solid scientific proof.” Aubrey frowned like this was a bad thing.
“Scientific proof?” Cindy studied Sunny closely. “Like DNA tests? Because that might be a little hard to come by at this stage of the game.”
“Yes, I know,” Sunny said, “but I plan to do a little research while I’m here. Native Americans have a strong oral tradition—a heritage of storytelling. I hope to find someone, perhaps even a relative, who might have some recollection of my family history.”
“Doesn’t she sound like a college professor?” Aubrey teased. “Sorry.” Sunny shrugged. “I taught anthropology classes and tend to think along those lines.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Cindy said as she rinsed a dishrag out. “And, unlike my impulsive daughter, I respect that you want to go carefully about this. Making false assumptions about family roots could get a girl in trouble. Your secret is safe with me, Sunny.”
“Thanks.” Sunny ran her hand over the wrought-iron back of the barstool. “If I find out anything that makes me certain of my ancestry, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“You know”—Cindy wiped down the granite countertop with a thoughtful expression—“I’ll bet Cody could be of some help to you.”
“Cody?”
“He’s my son-in-law—he was married to Lorena. Anyway, he works as a drug and alcohol counselor on the reservation. He might be able to introduce you to someone who knows about your family.”
Sunny knew Cindy was only trying to be helpful. But hearing that she wanted to introduce Sunny to someone who worked with drug addicts and alcoholics rubbed her the wrong way. Did she really think that Sunny wanted to talk to people with dependency issues? Or did she suspect that Sunny came from people like that? How much had Aubrey told her mother anyway?
Love Finds You in Pendleton, Oregon Page 6
