Return to Virgin River

by Robyn Carr

  “Tell me how those puppies are doing,” Jack said.

  “They’re growing as I watch. Lady is a pretty good-looking dog and two of the pups take after her while the other two are black.”

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  “Landry is working on that. He talked to a friend from the shelter and he’s going to work with them. Landry will foster the puppies at his kennel and the shelter will interview any potential new owners. Landry will take care of the shots and neutering and he’ll throw in a complimentary obedience training class to make them a little more attractive.”

  “What about mama dog?” he asked.

  “She could be fostered and then adopted, too. But I can’t think about that yet. I’m thinking about keeping her. She’s very nice to Tux.”

  “Be careful you don’t go home with a bunch of animals,” Jack said. “By the way, we’re having a town Halloween party on the thirty-first. Starting around two and ending when the fires go out. You don’t have to dress up unless you want to, but you have to bring something for the table. Preacher and I will turn some hot dogs and burgers on the grill. We also put out beer, wine and soft drinks and a donation jar.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “It’s fun when the weather holds. One year the temperature dropped and it snowed so we were all driven inside. That got a little crowded.”

  “I can’t believe it’s already Halloween...” She’d arrived in August; she’d been in Virgin River for more than two months. She’d pretty much overcome her fear of dogs and had almost fallen in love in no time. She heard her mother’s voice ask, So, how’s that book coming, Kaylee?

  “There are some picnic tables out back but a lot of people bring a blanket or chairs. There will be children and pets everywhere.”

  “Do you do this for the town?”

  “We never need an excuse for a town party,” he said. “It’s coming into the festive season. Before you know it, it’ll be Thanksgiving and then Christmas.”

  Her mood went south in a hurry. Christmas. Well, she knew Christmas would be going on all around her no matter where she was or whether she participated or not. She was going to try to hold it off as long as possible.

  “I’d better get back home and see if I can find some inspiration,” she said to Jack.

  “You do that, Kaylee. And I hope I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

  “You probably will.”

  Rather than going straight back to her house, she drove by the Templeton place and saw a bunch of trucks, one Bobcat and one flatbed. There was a small construction trailer, a dumpster and a few men standing in front of the house. One of them was Paul Haggerty, the builder. His eyes brightened and he smiled at her. “Hey, you. You here to check my work?”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start. How’s it going?”

  “I wouldn’t want to brag, but it’s looking damn fine. It’s going great. We’re ahead of schedule, thanks to good weather. We have a new roof on and are working on the interior. Windows go in next and we’re doing a remodel of the kitchen. Gerald said it might get some use over the holidays and if not then, definitely in the new year. Have you talked to him lately?”

  “I did speak to Bonnie recently and she said she heard the remodel was going well, though she hasn’t been here.”

  “I text her pictures every few days,” he said. “Go in and look around, if you like. There’s a spare hard hat on the porch.”

  “Thanks, I’d love to see it.” She skipped up the porch steps, grabbed the hard hat and went inside. It was still a mess, construction litter pushed into corners, building dust everywhere, but she was aware of the new staircase and banister. A man came down the stairs and gave her a nod hello, so she went up. The windows were still covered with construction paper to keep the elements out but the walls and floors and ceiling where the fire had done the most damage were all new. There were still wires sticking out of the walls where sockets would be installed and she peeked in the upstairs bathroom—all redone with a beautiful new, modern shower where the old tub had been and except for the finishing decorator touches like paint and wallpaper, it looked complete.

  The kitchen had new cupboards and granite countertops and while they hadn’t been wiped off or shined up yet, they totally modernized the kitchen. The spaces for new appliances stood yawning and there was a picture of a stainless steel subzero taped to the wall. She couldn’t wait to see the finished product. The floors she stood on were new and polished to a high sheen.

  She stepped out onto the porch and took a deep breath, looking around. The leaves were changing at a rapid pace and in another couple of weeks would hit their peak color, which would be glorious.

  “We’re going to reinforce the porch with new studs and porch boards,” Paul said. “Some of the foundation boards underneath had begun to rot from the damp weather and even though it still has a couple of good years left, might as well do it while we can. It’s going to rot out and collapse before we know it anyway.”

  “I loved this porch. And the back porch, too. We used to sleep out there when we were kids.”

  “All new durable screens on the back porch and several new doors throughout.”

  “It’s going to be beautiful.”

  “We’ll clean up that stone hearth so it looks fresh and spotless.”

  She picked up a slight chill in the air and shivered. Fall had not come early here, which she was told was rare. Usually by mid-October the temperature had dropped and the leaves were almost done turning. But this year the air was still comfortable.

  She thanked Paul and headed home to feed Tux and check on Lady and the pups. She put away the food she’d picked up at the store and then went to Landry’s backyard, opening the gate. She cradled Tux in her hands, holding him against her chest. Otis heard the gate and came bounding outside, tail wagging. The three of them went into the kennel. It was little more than a portable metal annex about the size of a railroad car, but it had heating and air conditioning, a couple of windows, lighting and eight roomy kennels. There were cupboards to hold dog food and supplies for training. And at one end, Lady’s little space, walled in to keep her puppies safe.

  When Kaylee came in with Otis, Lady sat up and her eyes twinkled. Landry made sure she got out several times a day and that she was fed on a schedule, but other than that, her job was to take care of the puppies. And in that, she seemed to be doing a fantastic job. “Hi,” Kaylee said softly. “How’s my best girl?” She dropped Tux into the barricade. Tux immediately picked his way through the puppies to Lady and for that he was treated to a generous dog-lick. “I thought you were supposed to be natural enemies, but you’re changing all my preconceived notions.”

  She hadn’t been in there long when Landry opened the door and stepped inside. “You get any writing done today, miss?” he asked.

  “A little,” she said. “I’ll write a little more tonight.”

  He crouched down and gave Lady a little rub under the chin. “This girl is looking better all the time. And this cat is getting fat on mutt milk. You have yourself a real zoo here.”

  “Did you work today?”

  “I slaved,” he said with a smile. “The weather is perfect. Let’s meet on the porch. It’s cocktail time.”

  “Okay. Your porch or mine?” she asked.

  “Come over here. I bought some wine and if you’re not too busy, we can have hamburgers. I’m celebrating that I’m caught up for the next two shows.”

  “That sounds worth celebrating.”

  “I’ll get a shower and meet you out front in twenty minutes.”

  Kaylee felt a small charge of excitement. She saw him every day so this was not such a big deal, but they hadn’t had a drink together at the end of the day in at least several days. He’d been busy getting his wares together for the next weekend fair and she’d been trying to write, des
pite being very distracted by the new family she’d taken on. She went home and used her twenty minutes to primp, putting on a clean shirt, a light touch of makeup and some lipstick. She fluffed and brushed her hair and gave herself a squirt of perfume.

  When he came out of his front door, she was already sitting on his porch. And he was ready for her, handing her a glass of her favorite chardonnay. He held a bottle of beer.

  “It must be going very well in there if you’re tired and in need of a cocktail hour,” she said.

  “You can have a look while I cook our hamburgers if you want to. I haven’t packed anything up yet and I will tomorrow.”

  “I’d love to see, thanks.”

  “Now tell me about your day,” he said. “It has to be much more exciting than mine.”

  “Doubtful. I ran a couple of quick errands, then went to Jack’s, where I always go with the intention of doing some writing, and that almost never happens. People are not shy about pulling up a chair.”

  “That’s the beauty of the place,” he said.

  “I did run by the Templetons’ place, however. Paul Haggerty is doing the remodel and he invited me to put on a hard hat and take a look around inside. He put in new floors, replaced walls, completely remodeled and modernized a bathroom, the kitchen has new cupboards and countertops, and it needs to be cleaned, but it’s beginning to look better than ever. Better than I remembered it, at least.”

  “When were you last here?”

  “Ten years ago,” she said. “I was in my twenties and had just gone through a divorce and although it was the best decision I ever made, I was pretty broken up about it at the time. I think I was more embarrassed than anything.”

  “Embarrassed?”

  “Everyone knew Dixon was not good marriage material, including me. I thought he’d straighten out once we were married. He got worse, I think.”

  “Okay, what made him bad marriage material?”

  “He was irresponsible, flirtatious, inconsiderate, slovenly, had a short fuse, and the second we were married he thought he had a maid and a call girl.”

  “How old was he?”

  “We were both twenty-four. We had dated for a year, got engaged, and lived together while we planned a big wedding. See, I was an idiot. It was all there—big red flag after big red flag. I even had a few people ask me if I knew what I was doing...”

  “There had to be a reason you were determined to marry him.”

  “He was handsome, had a great sense of humor, and was so sexy women stopped in midstride to look at him. Waitresses used to write their phone numbers on the bill. Plus, we had a lot of friends and we always had fun. He was very good at playing. Boating, paddle boarding, scuba diving, bowling, golf—you name it. We were busy every weekend. But...he was so childish and irresponsible. He was never on time, he stood people up when he got distracted. He dropped his underwear for me to pick up. And if he carried a dish to the vicinity of the sink, he expected a marching band. Plus he was arrogant. It was all about him, you know? He talked about himself constantly. I think he made up half his stories. He was immature.”

  “He was twenty-four,” Landry pointed out.

  “Were you like that at twenty-four?” she asked.

  “Nah. I was too serious.”

  She chuckled. “You got over that, I guess.”

  “It took some doing. I, too, was married at twenty-four. And looking back on it, it probably shouldn’t have happened, either.”

  “Um, lest we forget, you’re still married.”

  “Yes and no,” he said. “I mean, yes, I didn’t get divorced because it really didn’t seem important. But we did have the talk. When I pointed out to her that we never saw each other and sometimes didn’t even talk for weeks, she said, ‘But when we are together it’s so wonderful and I love you!’ And I said if we’re not going to live like a married couple, why should we be married? It was a very emotional showdown and she said if I wanted to get divorced she wouldn’t try to stand in my way. That clearing of the air changed things. I moved up here from San Francisco and moved in with my dad. I had more room to work and when she did visit, which wasn’t often, she took the guest room.”

  “Was your heart broken?” she asked.

  “Sure. The thing I couldn’t get past was that she didn’t love me enough to make a sacrifice for our marriage. I offered to move, to change whatever had to change so we could be together, but she said our living in different places wouldn’t last forever. She was wrong—it did last forever. Eventually I got over being mad or hurt. She had a dream and she wanted it so bad, nothing was going to get in her way. So, I kind of let it go. I let her go.”

  “But you didn’t get divorced,” she reminded him.

  “First of all, I was busy, trying to make it in my little art world. I’ll never be world famous, but I do a good little business. Then my dad died suddenly. He hadn’t even had a chance to retire, the poor guy. That preoccupied me for a long time. Getting a divorce to make it official was the last thing on my mind.”

  “But what are you going to do about the fact that she still loves you! It’s obvious.”

  “Kaylee, I might be greedy, but that’s just not enough love to keep me going. A phone call every week or two, a little small talk, a visit two or three times a year? Once she came up here from LA to rest because she was exhausted from a really tough movie and she stayed in the guesthouse, your house, and got two weeks of rest. But she went back. She’s driven. There’s no room in her world for a husband.”

  “Huh. Well, I’m very sorry that happened to you.”

  “Thanks, but I’m all right. So, your ex? Is he still around?”

  “Sort of. We have a lot of mutual friends so I get the occasional updates. Some have been good. He got married and had a couple of kids real fast and it looked like he found the right woman, one who could make it work. Then he got fired and I heard they’d fallen on hard times. Then he got back to work and I heard they were getting on their feet. Then they divorced and I actually felt bad. I mean, they had kids.

  “But back to your original question. My mom brought me up here after my divorce so I could whimper and cry and lick my wounds. We borrowed the Templetons’ house and stayed ten days. It took me a lot longer than ten days, but I love it here. My mom loved it here.”

  “Were you ever tempted again? To get married?”

  “Not once. In the past ten years I’ve dated a few very nice guys. One was my boyfriend for a year! But I was busy with work, lots of travel with my job, I had my mom and her friends and my friends and besides, I liked living alone. And after Dixon, all I’d have to do is remember his rowing machine under the bed and his dirty clothes on the floor and I was over it.” She smiled at Landry. “I’ve seen your house and your guesthouse. I might marry you. You’re very tidy. And considerate.”

  “And married.”

  “Ah, yes and no.”

  And they laughed and laughed.

  “I saw Dixon last year,” she said. “He’s bald and has put on about forty pounds. He looks sloppy and pale. That made me so happy.”

  * * *

  Landry was taken with Kaylee and he’d known that almost immediately. She caught a man’s eye, for one thing, but he was no longer twenty-four and it took a lot more than that to interest him. Despite her admitted vulnerability, still grieving her mother’s death, she was solid. Or maybe the fact that she knew she was vulnerable was a strength. He loved hearing her talk, explain things, describe things. She was articulate and intelligent. There didn’t seem to be a wishy-washy bone in her body even though she had a lot to work out. She was late turning in a book for which she’d been paid, for one thing. She was worried about it, but she was powering through. That took strength and determination. He knew only too well, as he often made contracts on art that was not yet created.

  After they had dinner they were back o
n the porch. He asked her to tell him about the book.

  “A couple of models are murdered and the suspicion is that there’s a killer stalking beautiful young women. There are many links between the deceased women, their boyfriends, family members, colleagues, etc. Then an attempt is made on a third model, also linked to the first two, and she not only escapes, she steps up to try to solve the murders before it happens to her. You know, eat or be eaten. Our killer gets by with a couple more signature murders, always putting her closer to danger. And of course she makes friends with a sexy detective who not only wants to protect her, he wants to help her figure it out. And there’s an elderly forensics expert also on the case.”

  “Hm. Sounds interesting. Is it almost done?”

  “It’s getting closer but it’s weeks from done. I’m writing another book at the same time, one that I don’t have a contract for, one that I’m more interested in writing. So I’m forcing myself to write six pages a day of the suspense, and then I find myself sitting up very late writing the one I enjoy writing. This is just coping; my ability to concentrate and think creatively took a giant hit when my mom died.”

  “Tell me about the one you enjoy,” he said.

  “It’s a fictionalized version of me, the character often growing in directions that make her stronger and more together than I really am. It’s not unusual to write about characters I admire or wish I was more like. It’s about a woman who runs off to the mountains to reclaim her confidence and strength after her husband dies. I decided it should be a husband, not a mother. But as I’m writing, I know the truth. And as I write, I figure things out.”