Both of the old ladies gasped.
“We were just trying to get you and Talmadge together,” Clydelle said. “You should be thanking us.”
Right. Because that worked out so well.
“And you were going to be our next project,” Francine said to Lorenda. “We were waiting for the right man to come along.”
“Oh no.” Lorenda shook her head. “I’m no one’s project. I’ve got two boys to raise, and that’s not exactly a hunk magnet.”
Both old ladies harrumphed.
“I mean it, ladies,” Miranda warned. “Your Tumblr days are over. Are we clear?”
Clydelle and Francine both hesitated until Miranda put two fingers in between her lips like she was going to whistle to get everyone’s attention and make an announcement.
“Oh, all right,” both old women huffed at the same time.
“But our matchmaking is better than online dating,” Clydelle said. “The men only want a booty call. Trust us, we know.”
Both Miranda and Lorenda’s jaws fell open.
“They’re dishonest on their profiles, the pictures they send of their junk aren’t usually real, and when they get what they want, they disappear,” said Francine.
And well, Miranda couldn’t argue with that, because they had a point. But pictures of their junk? Miranda’s hand covered her mouth, and she fought off a gag.
“All we’re saying is, that hunk of a man we spent so much time throwing in your direction is about to leave town, and you need to do something to stop him,” said Clydelle.
Miranda let her brows snap together. “What are you talking about?”
Clydelle leaned on her cane. “A few minutes ago a story broke in Seattle.” She puffed up like she was proud of herself. “I’ve been monitoring the news up there since Talmadge was one of my matchmaking persons of interest.”
Miranda crossed both arms over her chest and leveled a stare at Clydelle.
Clydelle cleared her throat. “Well, anyway, this reporter . . . I think her name is Fran . . . no, Faye . . .”
“Frankie,” Francine interjected. “Frankie Burns.” She gave Miranda an I’m-so-pleased-with-myself look. “I remember because her first name is so close to mine.”
“Who cares what her name is!” Miranda couldn’t take it anymore.
Francine gave her an offended scoff. “No need to get testy, dear.”
“You two are the ones sneaking around, taking pictures through windows, and invading my privacy.” She put her fingers in her mouth again and let a sharp whistle rip through the room. Everyone in Joe’s turned to them. Lowering her voice, she gave Clydelle and Francine a thin smile. “Tell me now, or I’m outing you both.”
“Okay,” Clydelle hissed.
Miranda looked around the cavernous room. “Just wanted to let you all know the dancing will start soon.”
Everyone nodded a thanks and went back to their meals.
Miranda tapped her foot.
“Well, Talmadge has to be back in Seattle right away to present his Trinity Falls plan to the tribal councils up there. It’s such a big deal, some national stations are even picking up the story.”
So he was leaving. Before the gazebo was unveiled and the inn was open. The inspector wouldn’t hand down his verdict for several days, but maybe just having the inspections completed was enough to get his money.
Breaking his promise and leaving now that he’d gotten what he wanted shouldn’t surprise her. She’d seen it a million times while her mother played musical boyfriends.
And even though Miranda knew she’d get through it, it didn’t stop the room from spinning. It didn’t stop her world from tilting, like it would never be set right. And it didn’t stop her heart from completely shattering into so many pieces that it could never be fully put back together again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Well, hell. Manning up was proving to be much more difficult than Talmadge thought it would be. He drove to the inn after leaving Joe’s, but Miranda wasn’t there. He tried Lorenda’s, but no luck. Jamie wouldn’t answer his phone. No big surprise. Langston was working a shift on the helo and wouldn’t be off for a few more hours.
He drove past Joe’s to look for Miranda’s Jeep and even pulled through the back parking lot, but nothing. So he went to Bea’s and walked Lloyd. Then sat down on the sofa for a few minutes with Lloyd curled in his lap. “Sorry, dude.” He scratched Lloyd’s head. “I screwed up.”
Lloyd let out a sleepy sigh.
Talmadge leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his weary eyes. Saying he’d screwed up with Miranda was like saying Lloyd wasn’t prissy. Talmadge was tired. So damn tired that he wanted to fall asleep right there on Bea’s sofa with Lloyd and stay there for a month.
Or forever.
The thought startled him.
Forever in Red River sounded right. A hell of a lot more right than going back to Washington. But it only seemed right if Miranda was with him, as in with him forever.
A call came in on his phone, and Ellen’s number popped up. He answered it. “It’s after hours. Shouldn’t you be knitting?”
“Nah,” she said. “I do enough of that during office hours.”
He laughed.
“Glad to hear you’ll be back in Washington to do the presentation.”
Wait. He hadn’t told anyone he was coming back to Seattle specifically because he wanted to keep it quiet. He’d hurt Miranda enough. He wanted to tell her in person. If he could ever find her.
“How did you know about my travel plans?”
“Um, it’s all over the news. Your stalker-reporter broke the story today. The investors made a public announcement that you’ve come up with a brilliant plan to save Trinity Falls and preserve the ruins at the same time.”
Shit. His damn investors were so busy trying to get their names in the papers that they’d done exactly what he’d asked them not to do.
“Does this mean we’ll have actual work to do around here again?” Ellen said.
Talmadge wasn’t sure what it meant. He didn’t see himself living in Washington anymore. He couldn’t see himself living in Red River unless Miranda was part of his life. And since he was pretty sure the temperature in hell hadn’t dropped below freezing, he wasn’t going to count on Miranda forgiving him, whether he manned up or not.
“I haven’t figured everything out yet,” Talmadge said.
“Anything you want done around here before your big return to the real world?” Ellen asked. “Because the knit-and-purl thing is getting boring. If you don’t give me some real work soon, I’ll have to take up origami. Or underwater basket weaving.”
“There is something you can do,” Talmadge said, changing the subject. “Have a shuttle ready to take me back to the airport as soon as the presentation is over and get me a ticket on the next flight back to New Mexico. I’ve got some unfinished business here that’s more important than Trinity Falls.”
“You got it, boss, but I didn’t think there was anything more important to you than Trinity Falls.”
He wouldn’t have thought so either just six weeks ago.
Another call beeped in. Maybe it was Miranda. “Gotta go,” he said to Ellen and answered the other call without looking at the number.
“Talmadge, it’s Larry. Looks like that reporter has snooped around enough to find out what you’ve been doing back in your hometown. She’s about to write up another story about your little projects in Red River while Trinity Falls has been sitting here neglected.”
Shit.
“The investors are going nuts,” Larry said. “Get back here on the double.”
He pulled in a breath. “Okay. Let me change my ticket.”
“No need. The investors have a chartered plane waiting for you at the commuter airport in Taos. If you’re not on it in two hours, they’re pulling out.”
So Talmadge was gone. And she hadn’t heard a word from him since they left the cemetery.
Okay, so tha
t wasn’t totally true. He’d left plenty of messages, none of which she’d bothered to listen to, because she didn’t want to hear any of his excuses. By the time she was fifteen, she’d heard them all from her mother’s boyfriends.
To give her mom some credit, she might have finally grown up. She’d stopped by the inn yesterday to show off both Ted and the wedding ring he’d given her when they’d gotten married two days ago. They’d called in some favors at the biker bar where they’d met and had another entry for the parade. And what do you know, but Ted had found gainful employment at a lumberyard, moved them into a better house, and even offered to help with Miranda’s renovations. Nice as that was, Miranda declined. She’d accepted enough help from men for one lifetime. But she was happy for her mom, because Ted actually seemed like a nice, sincere guy.
Then again, what would Miranda know about sincere guys?
Taking a rare break from her responsibilities, she slept in that morning. By eleven thirty she was still in her pajamas, relaxing on the sofa. She punched the button on the television remote and hugged a box of chocolates to her chest like it was her lifeline.
Did people really need to go on a talk show to figure out who the baby’s daddy was? She stuffed another chocolate truffle into her mouth.
Someone knocked on the door.
Maybe if she ignored it, they’d go away. She swallowed a mouthful of chocolate and popped in another. Mmm. She closed her eyes and savored the rich flavor.
The knock escalated to a bang.
Still ignoring it. Even with her mom and Ted’s entry, she was still two entries short. Before she went to the last committee meeting she wanted a few more hours to herself to process the failure. Or another bag of chocolate. Whichever came first. Whoever was at the door could bite her.
How silly had she been, letting herself get in so deep with Talmadge? Yet she couldn’t give up on life either, just because a man had walked out on her. Her entire life had been about survival. She’d survive this too. How, she wasn’t sure yet. That’s what she had to figure out.
Plus, she was kinda liking the pity-party she was throwing for herself. So who the hell was trying to interrupt it?
She jumped when Lorenda’s voice yelled through the door “Open up!”
With a huff, Miranda threw off the crocheted blanket and stomped to the door. She flicked the latch and opened it. “I’m not home,” she said to the mommy mafia standing there to greet her.
“We brought more comfort food.” Ella held up a bag from the market, Ben and Jerry’s showing through the plastic bag.
She waved them in and plopped back on the sofa.
Ella opened the pints of ice cream, pulled out four plastic spoons, and distributed the precious remedy that could heal just about anything. Except a broken heart.
They took seats around her like the mother hens they were. “So how are you?” Angelique asked, licking her spoon.
“Well, let’s see.” Miranda tapped a finger to her chin. “I’ve been sleeping with someone who lied to me, left town, and broke his promise. My savings are gone, and the inspectors still haven’t given my inn a certificate to open.” A sting started behind her eyes. “Oh, and I forgot that I’ve got to show up to the most important community event of the year and probably cancel it because there’s not enough parade entries to satisfy the stupid bylaws that no one even knew existed.”
She threw her arms wide and pasted on a dazzling smile. “I’d say my life is pretty grand.” She dove into her pint again. “You guys are jealous. Admit it.”
Lorenda’s eyes dropped to a spot on Miranda’s chest, and she looked down too. A chocolate stain soaked into her pajama shirt along with cherry soda. Lorenda gave her a sympathetic smile, and they all shoveled in another bite of B & J. “You guys are real friends, you know. You let me feel sorry for myself, and you’re even joining in.”
“We’ve all been there,” Lorenda said, and the rest of the mommy mafia nodded, chirping agreement while they sucked down ice cream.
“I’ll buy the chocolate until you feel better,” said Ella.
“I’ll provide the ice cream.” Angelique held up her spoon.
“And I’ll take you shopping for new jeans, if yours don’t fit by the time you’re over him,” Lorenda offered.
“Deal, because I’m broke.” Miranda dug out another mouthful of ice cream. “Unless I open soon, I’ll have to ask Joe for my old job back.” Considering Joe’s staffing problems, the whole town would probably love it if she went back to being the best damn waitress in town. Yay for her. She was so proud.
“Even though Talmadge lied to you,” Angelique said as she swallowed and leaned back in one of Bea’s old recliners, “at least he gave up his inheritance willingly by telling you about Bea’s terms in the end.”
Miranda stilled, the wad of ice cream freezing her tongue. “Beg your pardon?” She stared at Angelique.
Angelique’s eyes rounded, like she’d just made a mistake. “I thought you knew,” she said with a mouthful of Cherry Garcia. Which came out more like, “I aught oo noo.” She swallowed. “Talmadge said he told you.”
Miranda sat up. “Told me what exactly?” At the cemetery he said he could inherit the money once the inn opened. “Are you saying that he couldn’t inherit unless he kept the money a secret?”
“Um,” she said, and gave her an oh-shit look. “It’s confidential. I only mentioned it because I thought Talmadge had filled you in.”
Apparently, he hadn’t filled her in on everything. And she wanted answers. She stared down Angelique. No easy task since Angelique was the most alpha female on the planet. But Angelique caved, probably because she’d had her trials and tribulations too, until she and Doc Holloway finally worked things out.
“Look, I can’t tell you everything. It’s unethical,” Angelique said. “Maybe he did lie to you. He’s human, and he made a mistake.” She set her ice cream on the coffee table and laced her fingers. “All I can say is that he was in a tough spot because of Bea’s will.” Angelique gave her a sly smile, her killer instincts shining through. “So make a donation to the Drill Baby Drill movement in his name if you want to get back at him, but at least hear him out.”
There was just one problem with Angelique’s grand relationship advice. Talmadge had still left and broken his promise.
“And don’t forget, you still have a festival to put on. You can’t let Old Lady Wilkinson win,” Lorenda said. “Langston’s trying to switch shifts with another flight medic so he can enter his Mustang into the parade.”
Langston’s car, her mom’s biker friends, plus the senior center van—those would all help. But she was still one entry short.
She sat there for a second, torn between wanting to hole up in isolation for the next decade and wanting to show everyone, including Talmadge Oaks, that she might get knocked down, but she’d always get up again.
So she made a decision, set her ice cream on the coffee table. And she got up.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Miranda stood at the base of the announcer’s stand a few minutes before the parade was supposed to start. The park was teeming, and Main Street was already lined four-deep on both sides for the parade. And seeing as how Mrs. Wilkinson had been accommodating enough to finally produce the bylaws and prove that twenty parade entries was indeed the magic number, the mayor and Mrs. Wilkinson’s son had blocked Main Street with their cars to stop the parade from starting until the final count was in. Unfortunately, Miranda was still one entry short.
She tapped her pen against the clipboard in her hand.
She sighed. She’d failed as a leader in the community and at having her dream, because the inspectors still hadn’t given their approval, and that wasn’t a good sign. Joe said it didn’t usually take that long. And if the inspectors wanted changes to the inn before they’d let her open for business, she was out of luck and out of money.
Worst of all, she’d failed at love.
She’d finally listened to Talma
dge’s messages, all of them saying he was sorry and promising he’d be back to talk to her face-to-face. Well, to heck with his promises. He’d already broken two very important ones. His track record on keeping promises already sucked, so she hadn’t answered any of his one million and one calls, texts, or messages. She had enough problems here to deal with at the moment.
A crew set up amplifiers and musical equipment inside the finished gazebo where Joe had arranged for a band to play. They worked behind a canopy that covered the gazebo from public view, so it would be a big reveal to the whole town at once.
She checked her phone to see if anyone had texted in a new entry. But no, nothing. Her heart sank.
As if on cue, Mrs. Wilkinson strutted across the park and stood in front of Miranda. Joe must’ve seen her coming because he started in their direction.
“So how many entries do you have for the parade?” Mrs. Wilkinson gave her a grand smile, knowing she’d won the war.
Miranda’s tapping got louder. “Nineteen,” she ground out.
“Still not enough,” said Mrs. Wilkinson triumphantly. “Do you want to make the announcement that the festival is canceled or should I?”
Joe walked up, his cell to his ear. “I have another entry.” He held the phone away to speak. “Just getting the word now.”
Mrs. Wilkinson’s face soured like spoiled milk.
“Who?” Miranda held her pen ready to scribble the name at the bottom of the list.
“Who should I say is entering?” Joe said to the caller. He listened, then ended the call. “Bob. He’s entering a classic car, model unspecified. He’s en route, so he said to put him last in the lineup.” Joe turned to Mrs. Wilkinson. “So I guess the show goes on. Why don’t you go find a place to stand?”
“She’s still a hussy!” Mrs. Wilkinson wagged her finger at Miranda.
“Look,” Miranda said. “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you dislike me so much, but there’s enough room in this town for both of us. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you make it for me, so we might as well find a way to get along.”
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