In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  “As an overcooked tenderloin. My heart was broken. I knew I would never get over it.”

  “But it did work out for you and Allaire.”

  He nodded. “Her marriage to Dax didn’t last. They were divorced within a few years. And more than a few years after that, I came back to my hometown of Thunder Canyon to open a Rib Shack at the resort there. I tried to stay away from my brother’s ex-wife. But it was impossible. Within a few months, she had my ring on her finger. Allaire is the love of my life and I can’t imagine my world without her in the center of it. So cheer up, Mel. Have a little faith that things will work out just right in the end for you and that special guy.”

  She longed to believe him. But she didn’t. “I’m leaving in January. You know that, DJ. My perfect job is in Austin.”

  “It’s just a job, Mel. And maybe your guy will decide he wants to move to Austin, too.”

  “Uh-uh. I mean it. He and I are over.”

  DJ just wouldn’t give it up. “We’ll see. And there’s another possibility we haven’t discussed yet...”

  She braced her elbows on her knees and propped her face in her hands. “What are you getting at?”

  “You know I think you’re the greatest. I like to work with the best and the brightest and that means I’m not happy with the idea of losing you again when you head off to Austin at the end of the year. I’ve been plotting a way to keep you right here in Montana where we both know you belong.”

  “I’m not staying in Montan—”

  “Hold on, now. Let me finish. I’ve always wanted to boot myself in my own ass for letting you go when you moved over to Spurlock’s. I’ve followed your career, Mel. I know you’re a brilliant finance and insurance manager. And I believe you really ought to aim higher.”

  Cautiously, she prompted, “Higher, how?”

  “Would you consider becoming CFO for DJ’s, Incorporated? You could work out of the offices here—yeah, you would have to travel to the main offices once or twice a month, but it’s not that far and your home base would be Bronco if you want it that way.”

  She felt suddenly breathless. “CFO for DJ’s, corporate...”

  “That’s right. Our current CFO is retiring. He could work with you starting next month, until you both felt you were ready to take over the job from him. Think about it. Think of what terms and salary and options you would want, what kind of benefits package. Think of how you would see your role as Chief Financial Officer for our restaurants and how you would grow the role. If you’re interested, we’ll work up an offer and take it from there.”

  “DJ, I think my head is spinning.”

  “I can understand that. It’s a lot to consider, especially on the heels of what just happened with your special guy. My plan was to be here in Bronco until Friday, but I can stay till Saturday. You can take a break to think things over and I’ll cover for you.”

  “A break? You mean extra time off?”

  “Just an extra day or two.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I say it is and I’m the boss. We should spend some time today going over everything. I want a report from you on our systems and on the front and the back of the house. Just a general rundown on how we’re doing at DJ’s Deluxe and what could be done better. Then there’s the dinner service. We should both be there for that, so I can check on how it’s going, and we can consider solutions to any issues that crop up—all of which means I’ll need you for the rest of the afternoon and tonight. But I don’t want to see you here tomorrow, Thursday or Friday.”

  “DJ, that’s thoughtful of you. But I really don’t need two extra days off.”

  He put up a hand to silence her. “At least take tomorrow. And then Thursday is your regular day off. That will give you two days to clear your head a little, figure out what you want for your future, get closer to a decision about your next step. And, Mel, I sincerely hope that your plans for the future will include working out whatever’s wrong with your guy and joining the DJ’s team on a permanent basis.”

  * * *

  Twice that evening, Gabe realized he couldn’t stand not to make things up with Mel. Both times, he grabbed his keys and went out the front door, jumped in his pickup and kicked up a cloud of dust heading straight for town and DJ’s Deluxe. The first time, he stopped himself at the Ambling A’s front gate. The second time, he made it halfway to Bronco before he forced himself to pull over and turn the damn truck around.

  Mel was done with him. And he was through with her. He needed to accept that—get over her and move on.

  The second time he made himself return to the ranch, he locked himself in the house and got out the whiskey. He would get good and drunk, drown his sorrows at the loss of the gorgeous little blonde with the smart mouth and the naughty dimple in her soft cheek.

  But then he only had one drink—a double—and put the bottle away. Because getting blasted wouldn’t end his misery. It would only give him a hangover tomorrow, make him more miserable than he already was.

  He took a shower and went to bed—with the diary. It wasn’t his first choice for a bedmate, but Mel was not available. And she wasn’t going to be available. He needed to accept that, get used to it, move on.

  The diary would have to do. He stayed up all night reading the damn thing, poring over each page, studying the brief letter hidden in the binding. The experience really fit his mood that night. Just what he needed, a sad story of thwarted young love and a lost child, a child yet to be found, seventy-plus years later.

  Was the Josiah who wrote the diary really his own Gramps? He couldn’t be sure. There was no incontrovertible proof and there might never be.

  But he felt strangely certain anyway. Josiah and Gramps were the same person. And the baby named Beatrix, wherever she was now, deserved to be found.

  It was after four when he finally dropped into an uneasy sleep. At a little after eight, the ringing of his cell jarred him awake.

  He grabbed it off the bed table and glared at it before taking the call. “Erica. What?”

  “Good morning to you, too, Mr. Crabby Pants.”

  “It’s 8:00 a.m. and you sound way too cheerful.”

  “I like to get up and get going on the day. You, on the other hand, sound like you were up all night doing things you shouldn’t.”

  He thought of Mel. Gone. He wanted her back. It was going to be damn hard not to jump in his truck and drive like a bat out of hell straight to BH247 in the next hour or so. And then later, not to just happen to drop in at DJ’s Deluxe to see if maybe there was a chance she’d rethought walking out on him and couldn’t live without him, after all.

  Damn. He was hopeless. He needed to grow a pair and forget her.

  “Gabe? You still with me?”

  “Right here. Everything okay?”

  “Um. Fine. Just checking in, you know?”

  Did she sound a little off? “What’s happened, Erica? What’s wrong?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “How’s the boyfriend?”

  A beat of silence, then, “Peter’s fine.”

  “Something’s up. Talk to me.”

  “Stop it. There’s nothing. I just called to say hi.”

  “Let me guess. You’re coming home for a long visit.”

  Another silence. That meant she wasn’t. “Soon, I promise.”

  He wanted to ask why she never kept her promises—not the ones about coming home, anyway—but that would only start a fight and he really didn’t want to fight with her. “We miss you. Gramps isn’t doing well and you need to—”

  She cut him off. “Can you just not get on me about Gramps, please?”

  He opened his mouth to insist that she needed to be here, that Gramps needed to see her.

  But who did he think he
was kidding? These days, Gramps seemed so far away from everyone, trapped in his own head, never really seeming to know the difference between Gabe and any random, helpful Snowy Mountain caregiver.

  “Okay,” he said. “Sorry. Love you, little sister.” And he did—but he had resentments toward her, too. She’d drifted so far away from the family. He worried about her. Sometimes he wondered if everything in her life really was as perfect as she kept insisting it was.

  And he didn’t know how to talk to her. He wanted to tell her about Mel—loving her, losing her—and the diary and the possibility that their beloved Gramps had a lot of secrets he’d never shared with the family.

  But then she said, too cheerfully, “And I love you. How is everything there?”

  He played the dutiful big brother and reported that everyone was fine, that Grandpa Alexander could never figure out why young people thought they knew it all and Dad refused even to consider a single one of the suggestions Gabe had for streamlining a few things around the Ambling A. “And you know Mom. She’s waiting for the go-ahead to start planning your wedding.”

  Erica muttered something under her breath.

  “What? Didn’t catch that.”

  “Oh, nothing,” she answered airily, evasive as ever.

  And when she said goodbye a few minutes later, he heard the line go dead and felt more disconnected from his sister than ever.

  * * *

  The next day—her extra day off, thanks to DJ, who refused to believe that she would prefer to keep busy—Mel knew she would go nuts if she hung around her apartment. She was up at seven and the day seemed to stretch out in front of her, empty and endless. She knew she would only end up knocking on her neighbors’ door, interrupting Amanda’s workday, crying on her shoulder and then imposing her misery on Brittany, too, when she got home.

  No. Mel couldn’t bear a whole day of dragging around the complex, playing the sad sack, taking advantage of her new friends’ affection and goodwill to moan about how she and Gabe weren’t working out. Especially given that she was the dumper and not the dumpee.

  She needed action. And she really wanted to get the heck out of Bronco, where everything reminded her of Gabe.

  She decided to visit Winona. The long drive to Rust Creek Falls would clear her head—she hoped. Also, she ought to check on the various repairs at her parents’ house. The new tenants were moving in on the first and the place had to be ready for them.

  Homer could go with her. It would be good for him to travel a little, start becoming accustomed to being in the car.

  Once she was packed and ready to hit the road, she decided she ought to give her friends a heads-up. Brittany and Amanda would worry if she simply vanished for a couple of days—and strangely enough, the thought of how concerned they would be lightened her spirits a little. She might have blown it with Gabe, but she had made two true friends during her weeks in Bronco.

  Amanda answered the door at Mel’s knock. In shorts and a tank top, she had her hair piled up in a messy bun. “Hey, Mel.”

  Mel recognized her friend’s distracted expression. “You’re working.”

  “You know me. I’m always working. Come on in.”

  “No, I won’t keep you. I just wanted you to know I got two days off in a row and I’m driving up to Rust Creek Falls. I’ve got a friend I need to check on and some other stuff I really have to take care of.”

  Amanda’s smooth brow crinkled. “Everything okay?”

  “You know how it goes. There’s always something.”

  “You want to talk?”

  Mel kept her smile in place. “Thanks, but it’s a long drive. I need to get on the road.”

  After another searching look, Amanda let it go. “So you’ll be back...?”

  “By Friday. I have to work Friday night.”

  “Homer?”

  “He’s coming with. He doesn’t care much for car rides, but I’m hoping he’ll get used to it.”

  “I’ll be glad to kitty sit.”

  “Thanks, but I kind of like his company.”

  “Okay, then. See you Friday. I’ll tell Brittany.” Amanda held out her arms. They shared a quick hug and Mel found herself thinking that no matter where she ended up at the first of the year, she would be keeping in touch with Amanda and Brittany.

  * * *

  Homer did create something of a challenge. She strapped his kitty carrier in the back seat, and he began wailing in misery the second she started up the car.

  Mel drove straight to the pet store and bought a giant tube-shaped cat cage big enough for several toys, a treat dispenser and a soft-sided, collapsible portable cat box. She spent a while introducing him to his new travel space and teaching him how to get his treats, petting him constantly and reminding him what a very good boy he was. And then, once they got back on the road, she stopped every half hour to pet him some more and shower him with praise.

  All the stops added more than an hour to the trip, but the extra space, restroom accommodations, treats, toys and attention worked. By the time they reached Great Falls, Homer had stopped crying. She continued to pull over and check on him hourly after that. And he seemed perfectly content in his giant cat tube. He even purred when she praised him.

  She arrived at the house in Rust Creek Falls at five thirty and got right to work, bringing in her small suitcase and setting Homer up with his bed, litter box, play structure and food and water bowls. She raided the shed in back where she’d stored her rollaway bed, basic kitchen stuff, towels and toilet paper.

  At six thirty, she strolled over to Crawford’s General Store to pick up the minimum in food items—eggs, milk, bread, a few condiments, some cheese and lunch meat. The girl behind the counter there was someone she didn’t recognize. That made her sad. Always in her memory, members of the Crawford family would be there to greet her any time she shopped at their store.

  Back at the house, she ate a sandwich, petted her kitten and inspected the premises. The new paint looked great, the leaky pipe under the kitchen sink had been replaced and the hanging light fixture in the dining area no longer blinked on and off when she flicked the switch. Everything was ready for the next family to move in.

  Now what? Her plan was to give Winona a call in the morning. She could just as easily try her now...

  But she didn’t feel up to dealing with anyone—not even Winona—tonight.

  Alone. Brokenhearted. Antisocial. And lonely.

  It was not her finest hour.

  She ended up, phone in hand, sitting on the rollaway in the empty bedroom that had been hers growing up. As she petted Homer, who was curled in her lap, she wondered what Gabe might be doing. Her longing to call him was so strong it hurt.

  Somehow, she kept herself from doing that.

  Finally, around nine, she went to bed. Her sleep was fitful. She woke before dawn thinking that it really was time to let go of this house. The happy memories she’d collected here would always be hers to keep. But now it was time to let some other family call it their own.

  “Once the new tenants’ lease is up, I’m selling this house,” she informed Homer as she dished him up some Fancy Feast. Then she sat back on her heels and watched him chow down, waiting for the feeling of panic to rise as it had every other time she’d seriously considered putting the house on the market.

  There was no panic. Only a sense of quiet acceptance.

  After breakfast, she called Winona, who took four rings to answer and sounded a bit distracted at first. “Mellie? Is that you? What’s going on?”

  “I’m here, Winona, in Rust Creek Falls. I drove up from Bronco yesterday. I was wondering if I could come over and visit you?”

  “Right now? Why, that would be wonderful! I’ll get the kettle going.”

  Mel put Homer in his small carrier and took him along.

  Winona was standing in her ope
n doorway when Mel started up the front walk. She looked so thin, fragile as old glass, the network of wrinkles on her face etched deeper than ever. But her smile made the day brighter. She reached out her thin arms and Mel went into them. “Mellie, it’s so good to see you.” Winona took her by the shoulders and beamed at her some more. “Come in, come in!” She stepped aside so Mel could enter, glancing down at the pet carrier as Mel went by. “What is that you’ve got—a pet?”

  “Someone very special.” In the living room, she set the carrier on the floor and unzipped the flap at the top.

  Homer popped his head out of the opening. “Reow?”

  Winona laughed in delight. “Look at those eyes!”

  Mel scooped him up and held him close. He purred against her chest. “His name is Homer.”

  Winona clapped her hands. “He is definitely a Homer. Perfect choice for a name—oh!” She pressed a hand to her chest. And she was panting.

  “Winona?” Mel let Homer wriggle to the floor and jumped up. “Are you—”

  “Fine, dear. I am fine.” Carefully, her hand still on her heart, Winona lowered herself to the sofa. “There.” She drew a slow breath and then another. “Better.”

  “Let me call your doctor for you.”

  “No. There’s no need. I am fine.”

  “Winona, you don’t seem fine.”

  “It was just a little breathlessness. It’s passed now.” Winona positioned a pillow against the armrest and started to lie down. But then the teakettle whistled in the other room and she popped back up again.

  “Rest,” Mel commanded. “I’ll deal with the tea.”

  “I don’t mind—”

  “Lie down, Winona.”

  With a sigh, Winona kicked off her shoes and stretched out.

  “How about the afghan?”

  “No, thank you. I don’t need it. I’ll just rest for a moment.” The kettle continued to shriek from the other room. Winona gave Mel a too-sweet smile. “See to the kettle, dear.”

  “I will.” Mel spoke sternly. “Do not get up.”

  “I won’t.”