Above It All (Eureka, Colorado Book 4) (Contemporary Romance)

by Cindy Myers

  “I can imagine,” Sharon said. “I get freaked out in crowds, and I really don’t like people staring at me. Cassie asked me to be in her play and I told her no way.”

  “She won’t take no for an answer from me. You know how she is.”

  “I know.” Sharon laid a hand on Shelly’s arm. “Don’t let her bully you. Do what I do—nod and smile and keep saying no. After all, she can’t force you to put on that costume and recite your lines.”

  Shelly smiled at the picture that formed in her mind of the little librarian trying to do just that. “You’re right. I’ll just have to stand my ground with her. Thanks for the advice. And thanks for understanding, too.”

  “Remember, you have a lot of friends on your side.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot.” She’d been strong enough to leave the spotlight in the first place; she could resist the pull of it now. All she wanted was her old life back, with her husband and kids and friends—the people who really mattered to her. The ones who loved her for who she was, not because she’d been hapless enough as a kid to fall into a hole in the ground.

  Cassie exited the salon and checked her watch. Eleven-fifteen. Maxi had taken longer than usual this morning to do her hair—too much time on the phone with other clients. Next time Cassie saw her, she’d suggest she hire a receptionist or a shampoo girl to take those calls. The stylist ought to be focused on her customer.

  She started down the sidewalk toward the library, then did an about-face and strode toward the park instead. Apparently, Lucille and the rest of the town council had gone through with their ridiculous plan to graze goats in the park. Goats might very well eat weeds, but they’d be just as likely to mow down the flowering perennials Ernestine Wynock and the members of the Eureka Women’s Club had planted and tended in the park for years. People in town didn’t have enough respect for the work and care that those women had put into beautifying the town. They needed to realize that beautiful surroundings didn’t just show up by themselves. If it weren’t for Cassie, people might forget about their heritage altogether.

  She heard the goats before she saw them, a steady chorus of “baaah” and “maaah” growing louder as she neared the entrance to the park. She stopped beneath the iron archway to admire the sign. ERNESTINE WYNOCK PARK proclaimed the vinyl banner tied to the arch. Cassie had hung that banner herself earlier this year, with help from two young people. It was holding up nicely; just as well, since the town was too cheap to purchase a suitable permanent sign. After the Founders’ Pageant was over, she would have to go to work on getting that done.

  The goats were gathered around a short, sturdy woman with snow-white hair, who was handing out something from a bucket. As Cassie walked closer, the woman’s words carried to her. “Now Stella, don’t be a pig. Share with Kate. Sophia, there’s plenty for everyone. Here you go, Belle. And some for you, Sassy. That’s my good girls.”

  The bucket empty, the woman upended it. “That’s all, girls. Back to work with you.” She made shooing motions and after a moment the goats quieted and moved away, to resume grazing.

  The woman looked up and spotted Cassie. “Hello,” she said. “You just missed treat time.”

  “Why are you feeding them anything?” Cassie made her way to the woman, stepping carefully to avoid scattered piles of goat pellets. “I thought their job is to eat weeds.”

  “Yes, and they eat plenty of them. But I give them nuggets once a day as a treat. Plus it keeps them tame and easy to manage.” She looped the bucket over one arm and extended the other. “Daisy Mott.”

  “I’m Cassie Wynock.”

  “Any relation to Ernestine Wynock?”

  Cassie was pleased the woman had made the association. “Yes. She was my grandmother. And she’s responsible for many of the plantings in this park.”

  “And you came to check to make sure the goats weren’t destroying her handiwork.” Daisy nodded. “Well, you don’t need to worry. The flowers are fenced off, and in any case, Alice knows to keep the girls away from the ornamentals.”

  Cassie followed Daisy’s gaze to the black-and-white dog who was patrolling the herd, her gaze intent for any who might stray from the boundary she’d set. Then she looked at the flower beds. The lilacs, daisies, and columbine appeared untouched behind a strand of electric wire. “You seem to have everything under control,” she said.

  “Alice and I manage just fine, though I probably don’t have to tell you, there are plenty of people who don’t think a woman—especially one my age—is capable of much of anything.”

  “Yes, I know exactly what you mean.” Didn’t people—especially men—underestimate Cassie constantly? She’d had to take matters into her own hands to get the park renamed after her grandmother, and there wouldn’t even be a Founders’ Pageant if she hadn’t taken it upon herself to write, direct, and star in the production. Just think of all she might accomplish if she ever got any real support!

  She looked around and spotted the truck with the camper on its back. “Is that where you live?”

  “When I’m out with the goats, yes. Winters, I have a little cabin in the San Luis Valley. It suits me.”

  “I’ve always wanted to travel,” Cassie said, struggling to keep the wistfulness from her voice. “But of course, as head librarian, and president of the historical society, I have so many responsibilities here.”

  “You never know. One day you may decide to pull up stakes and set out, like I did. The older you get, the easier it is to do what you want, I say.”

  “I admire your spirit,” Cassie said. She stood a little straighter. Obviously, Daisy Mott was a woman of good character and discernment. One might almost say she and Cassie were cut from the same cloth. “If you would like to use our library during your stay in Eureka, I’d be happy to extend you temporary borrowing privileges. And we have computers for public use, as well.”

  “I might just take you up on that,” Daisy said. “Thanks.” She shifted the bucket to her other hand. “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, but I’d better make sure the girls have fresh water. Those nuggets are kind of salty.”

  “By all means. I have to return to my work as well.” They nodded good-bye, and Cassie made her way back across the park to the entrance. She paused to look back over her shoulder and saw Daisy filling her bucket at the spigot. Too bad she was only visiting in town. It would be good to have someone her own age who identified with her struggles. As a strong, independent woman, she’d always had trouble making friends, but maybe, as Daisy had said, it was never too late.

  With a new burst of confidence, she returned to the library, in time to see Shelly descending the steps. What better sign that fate was on her side, helping to bring her latest great idea to fruition? “Shelly!” she called, hurrying to catch up with the younger woman. “You’re just the person I’ve been wanting to see.”

  Shelly clutched a folder to her chest and took a step back, but Cassie had reached her before she could retreat. “We really didn’t have a chance to talk about my ideas for your role in the play the other night,” Cassie said. “I think you may have misunderstood my intentions.”

  “I understood, Cassie,” Shelly said. “You want me to take a bigger role in the play so that you can advertise that Baby Shelly is in your production, so that people will come from all over to gawk at me.”

  “They won’t be gawking,” Cassie said. “They’ll be watching the Founders’ Pageant, and learning about Eureka’s history. It would be a great thing for the town, to have so many new visitors. I’m afraid that’s the harsh reality, when the treasury depends so much on tourist money.”

  Shelly folded her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t want to do it,” she said. “I don’t want to be in the spotlight.”

  “I don’t know why not,” Cassie said. “Why wouldn’t you want to be famous?” How could someone who had reached those lofty heights ever turn her back on such public acknowledgment?

  “Fame is never about you,” Shelly sai
d. “Not really. It’s about something that happened to you or who your family is. Sometimes it’s about something you did. But it’s never really about who you are, inside.”

  “I think you’re wrong about that. People want to get to know you. To know more about you—and about the place where you live.”

  “It’s not like that at all. People aren’t interested in that. They act like they like you, but they really don’t.”

  No one pretended they liked Cassie, though she preferred to think she had at least earned people’s respect. But in addition to respect, she craved admiration. How wonderful it would be to have the things that were important to her become important to other people also. She’d never feel invisible in a crowd of people again. Never have to fight for even a scrap of attention. “You only say that because you don’t know what it’s like to be truly anonymous,” she said. “As Baby Shelly, you have the opportunity to share your opinion. To influence others.”

  “But I don’t want those things. I just want to be left alone.”

  Really, the girl was merely whining now. “And I’ll be happy to leave you alone, after the Founders’ Pageant,” Cassie said.

  Shelly shook her head. “I can’t do it, Cassie. You’ll have to find someone else.” She stepped around the librarian and started down the steps again.

  “There comes a time when you need to stop thinking about yourself and think of others,” Cassie said. “Think of the town that has sheltered you and given you a home. How could you begrudge doing this one thing to give back to them?”

  Shelly’s shoulders hunched, as if she were being pelted with rotten fruit, not words. Cassie wanted to run after her and shake her. She’d spent her whole life giving back to this town that was her home and her family’s legacy. Here this young woman had a chance to pay her—and all the women and men who had come before her—back for that legacy, and she was ignoring the offer. All Cassie wanted was to use Shelly’s name to garner a little bit of attention for the pageant and yes, for Cassie herself. That wasn’t really so much to ask for, was it?

  “Your problem, Travis, is that you want to have everything without sacrificing anything.”

  Travis winced at the strident tone in his girlfriend Trish’s voice. She hadn’t been too keen on his leaving to take this job, and clearly absence had not made her heart grow fonder. He knew he should apologize and placate her, but a man had to defend himself, right? “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a good life,” he said.

  “Then maybe your definition of a good life and mine are different. You want to run all over the country, writing about all this exciting stuff, but you can’t make any money at it and you still live like a nineteen-year-old frat boy. I want marriage and a home and to be able to send my kids to college one day.”

  Verse one hundred and twenty-two of a familiar argument, he thought. Why couldn’t she see that he was working hard to make her middle-class American dream come true? All he needed was a little more time. If she had a little more faith in him it wouldn’t hurt, either. “This book is really going to pay off,” he said. “You’ll see.”

  “Have you even talked to Shelly yet? Has she agreed to cooperate and help with the book?”

  “I haven’t persuaded her yet, but I will.”

  “Why should she? She hasn’t agreed to any of the other deals publishers have waved at her over the years, and I hate to break it to you, Travis, but you’re not that charming.”

  He flinched; she might as well have slapped him. “Trish, you wound me.”

  “I’m sorry.” He wished he could see her face, to decipher if she was really contrite, or merely going through the motions. “I’m tired of being apart and never being able to plan for the future.”

  “Things will get better, I promise.” How many times had he said that before? But he meant it this time. He was taking a big risk with this book project, but that’s how the high rollers got ahead, wasn’t it? By risking everything on a dream they believed in?

  “They could be better right now if you’d come back to Dallas and work for my dad,” Trish said. “He’s offering you a really sweet job managing publicity and communications for his firm.”

  “I’m just not cut out to work in an office.”

  “The newspaper was an office. And this would still be writing, only for a heck of a lot more money than you made before. And you could still write other things in your spare time.” Her voice softened, sweet and cajoling. “Isn’t it worth it so we can be together?”

  This was the Trish he missed—the girl who smiled at him across the breakfast table, and rubbed his shoulders when he’d spent long hours at the computer. Why couldn’t things be that good between them all the time?

  “Travis?”

  He knew he had waited too long to answer the question. “Trish, honey, I just need—” he began.

  “I have to go now,” she said, cutting him off. “Call me when you’ve got some good news.”

  He stared at his phone and debated calling her back and apologizing, but he could tell she wasn’t in the mood to be so easily soothed. Until his situation changed for the better, this was an argument he couldn’t win. Better to let her cool off, while he focused on getting this job over with as quickly as possible.

  He pocketed the phone and walked into the Dirty Sally, where he’d been headed when Trish’s call came in. The familiar beer-and-burgers aroma of the saloon surrounded him, and he felt some of the tension go out of his shoulders. He’d spent so many evenings in bars like this, when he worked for the paper, then traveling on freelance assignments. He could walk into any city in the world and feel at home in a place like this, surrounded by conversation and warmth, yet not compelled to take part. People in bars were easy to talk to, to confide in. Maybe the alcohol lowered their inhibitions, or maybe it was only the knowledge that everyone was on even footing here, each person trying to relax and let go of the cares of the day.

  He found a seat at the bar. “Jack Daniel’s, straight up,” he ordered.

  Jameso raised an eyebrow. “I saw you on the phone outside. You just get bad news?”

  “Something like that.” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the barstool. “My girlfriend is upset I’m staying away so long.”

  Jameso nodded and poured the whiskey.

  “She wants me to come home and take a job working for her dad,” Travis said. “Settle down and grow up.”

  Jameso winced. “Be a responsible adult.”

  Travis nodded. “You’ve heard the speech?”

  “Oh yeah. Many times. From several different women.”

  Travis slugged back a good jolt of whiskey, making a face as it burned down his throat. He set the glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But hey, you’re doing okay—smart, pretty wife, cute baby, nice place. You own that fancy B and B, don’t you?” He’d checked out the place when he first came to town, but the rates to stay in the restored Victorian were too steep for his budget.

  “I don’t own it,” Jameso said. “I manage it. One of Maggie’s friends owns it. But yeah, I’m doing okay.” He posed, one fist clenched to his chest. “I may not be a responsible adult, but I play one on TV.”

  Travis chuckled and took another sip of the whiskey. It went down more smoothly this time. “You mind my asking, you been married long?”

  “Two months.”

  Travis did the math. “So that means . . .”

  Jameso nodded. “Yeah, we got married the day the baby was born. Maggie didn’t want to rush into anything.”

  “That’s a new twist. My girlfriend would get married tomorrow if I’d agree.”

  “So why don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, you know. I want to be able to give her something besides my old truck and my collection of vintage concert T-shirts. She wants a house, and that takes money. That’s why I’m so intent on making this book project work. It’s why I agreed to work with Mindy.”

  Both men turned to look toward the small s
tage in the corner of the bar, where Mindy was overemoting to a version of Beyoncé’s “Diva.” Her voice wasn’t bad, but she was throwing herself around on the stage and twisting up her face like someone in the throes of some kind of seizure.

  Jameso turned away and began wiping down the bar. “I didn’t have a pot to piss in when Maggie and I married,” he said. “Still don’t, but she says she doesn’t care and I guess she means it.”

  “So you’re saying I should marry Trish and not worry about the rest.”

  “I’m only the bartender. I listen, but I don’t give advice.” He pulled two beers from the tap and slid them across to the waitress.

  “But I’m asking.” Travis leaned toward him. “If you were in my shoes, what would you do?”

  “I think you should think about what you really want. Marriage is hard. I mean, your wife, and kids if you have them, are always there. A part of you, even when you’re not with them. And they’re depending on you, even if nobody ever says that. You can’t escape it.”

  “That’s heavy, huh?” Even the words were a weight that pressed on his chest.

  “It is,” Jameso said. “And it’s not. Sometimes it’s kind of . . . I don’t know. Comforting. I mean, being single and carefree is fun, but sometimes it’s lonely, too.”

  “Do you think women feel that, too? One thing that Shelly said when I talked to her was that she just wanted to be a wife and mom and not deal with anything else. Like that was better than being famous or having a lot of money or anything.”

  “Maybe it is. I’ve never had money or been famous, but I can’t imagine they’d be better than seeing my little girl smile at me or snuggling up next to Maggie on a cold night. You want another whiskey?”

  “No. I guess I’ve got some thinking to do and I need a clear head.” He took out his wallet. “Let me pay you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. This one’s on me.”

  “Thanks.” He walked outside, and stood in the empty street in front of the building, head tilted back to look up at the stars. Here away from the city, the sky looked like some kid had gotten a little heavy-handed with the glitter. It didn’t even look like the same sky he saw over Dallas.