“We’ve got a second candidate lined up, Ms. Franklin, and in the interest of time, the department would appreciate your decision when you meet with them on Monday.”
“Absolutely,” Liv promised. She disconnected the phone and turned. Her parents shared a look before Jane cut to the chase.
“Something you want to tell us, Liv?”
“I think they’re offering me a job.”
“Which campus?” Dave asked, always quick to nail down facts.
“Bozeman.”
“That’s only an hour away.” Pleased, Jane moved forward to hug her. “That’s less than half the distance you were before.”
“Yes.”
“And drivable on all but the worst days of winter.”
True, but—
“Is this job for research, honey? Or teaching?”
“I’d be subbing for a professor going out on sick leave. It’s an unexpected opening and they need to fill it quickly.”
“Sure, being August and all.” Dave reached out to hug her with one arm, but then stepped back and bent lower to meet her gaze. “You love research.”
“I do,” she admitted. “But I think I’ve spent the past five years hiding in research. I know that probably sounds stupid—”
Her father jutted his chin toward his wood shop located in the old carriage shed. “I disappear into there regularly. I can empathize.”
Jane made a face at him before turning back to Liv. “It’s a turnaround, but with nice potential. And maybe it’s time to change things up, honey.”
“Being divorced, jobless and sleeping in my parents’ house would suggest I’ve already done that, so, yeah.” Liv made a wry face. “What’s one more major overhaul at this juncture?”
“Except?” Her mother must have read the doubt in her voice, because she paused, studied Liv’s gaze, then sighed when understanding dawned. “A part of you would like to stay in Jasper Gulch.”
Liv stared in the direction of the Double M and shrugged. “I can’t, of course.”
“Because?” Her father’s expression said one way or another, the decision was in her hands.
“It’s too soon to start looking at commitments after I’ve managed to destroy the most important one of all,” she argued. “It can’t be right to be even thinking this way. Can it?”
Jane’s smile said she wasn’t so sure, and Dave raised a hand as he moved toward his pickup truck. “No matter which way you go, honey, it’ll sure be nice to have you closer to home.”
“Jane? Jane! Can you help me?”
The need in Grandma’s voice ended their conversation. The looks on her parents’ faces reminded Liv of how much was at stake right now. She shooed her mother into the house and grabbed the first box from the back of the storage container. “I’ve got all morning. I’ll sort out the ones marked Grandma’s Room and stack them on the back porch. If I’ve got time, I’ll organize the rest into designated areas so we can tackle the sections one by one. Okay?”
“Thank you.” Jane gave her a brief hug and hurried inside. The ensuing quiet gave Liv time to think.
Too much time.
Because when she had time to think, the only thing she could think about was that kiss. Jack’s scent, the feel of her head against his chest, his arms holding her. His cowboy look, the lazy smile, the quick grin.
She’d fallen in love with him all over again, then realized she’d never stopped loving him the minute his mouth met hers. What kind of woman did that make her?
Awareness threatened from inside.
She’d taken the scholarship for her advanced degree in Chicago out of spite when Jack broke up with her. She’d wanted to prove how strong she was, that she could be in the very same city as Jack McGuire and not crumble or beg for his attention. And she’d done it, too.
Then she’d gone stubbornly on, developing a life with Billy under false pretenses. She’d gone into a sacred commitment with a singular focus and industry, not unlike her current job quest.
Regret speared her.
Was she shallow? She hadn’t thought so; in fact, if someone had approached her eighteen months ago and asked if she was happy, she’d have said yes.
She’d have been wrong. She knew that now. And while there was no excuse for Billy’s philandering, she had a better view of the big picture of their marriage in retrospect. She’d used him to get over Jack McGuire, but she’d never really gotten over Jack, so who bore the deeper sin? Her sin of omission? Or Billy’s more obvious transgressions?
Her cell phone buzzed a text from Jack. Church, Sunday? Then breakfast together?
She stared at the message, conflicted. If she was going to teach in Bozeman, she’d be close enough to come home on a more regular basis. That could give her time to reexamine these feelings for Jack.
Reexamine? I think that kiss was a pretty good indicator, honey. Unless you’re anxious to reexamine the kissing part. That I’d understand.
She shushed the internal reminder as she considered his invitation. Being seen in church would deepen the already invasive speculation in Jasper Gulch. Then going to breakfast afterward?
Sharing Sunday-morning pancakes at Great Gulch Grub was better than a marriage proposal in these parts.
But refusing Jack’s invite held no appeal whatsoever, and her examination of conscience said she had some thinking to do. And maybe praying, too.
The toll of the recorded morning carillon interrupted her thoughts. Her parents’ home was at the outside edge of town but close enough for the musical reminder of God, first. She’d forgotten that.
Not forgotten. Shoved aside. Let’s start this whole new thing with some honesty, okay?
Honesty it was. She texted back Yes, what time? and when her phone rang almost instantly, she knew she’d made the right decision. The ramped-up beat of her heart offered its own evidence as she accepted the call. “Hey, cowboy.”
“Be ready at eight forty-five, okay? We’ll catch the nine o’clock service. The late-day one is too crowded.”
“Silly people, wanting to sleep in on Sunday,” she teased, but then smiled inside. An early Sunday morning with Jack sounded perfect, despite her misgivings. “I’ll see you then.”
“We’ve got buyers coming in from New Mexico,” Jack went on. “Otherwise, I’d ride in tonight and go over game details.”
“I think we’ve gone over every detail imaginable already.”
“Which would leave us plenty of time to sort out other things.” He sounded quite happy to sort out other things with her, and the note in his voice made her insides uncoil a little more.
“You and I having too much time on our hands could lead to trouble.”
“Aw, Liv.” The smile in his voice told her exactly where he was headed, cowboy through and through. “Shucks, ma’am, kissing you ain’t one bit of trouble. Not for this cowhand.”
She could play along or ignore his teasing. Either way, she was in a fix, because being near Jack just made her long to be near Jack more often, but shouldn’t she know her own mind, heart and soul first? “I’ll be out to take care of Dilly and the mares tomorrow. You’ll probably be showing the cattle by the time I get there.”
“Carrie and the kids will be here. She’s making us dinner, and the kids are going to work on a summer project. Brian’s got a surprise to show you.”
Her heart mushed at the thought of the serious little boy keeping a secret, sharing a surprise. Thinking of what Carrie’s family lost made her realize how precious life and love truly were. Neither should be meted out in neat terms. They should be embraced. Celebrated. Enjoyed. “I can’t wait. Gotta go. I’m helping Mom with the storage unit, then Robin and I have a date with our musty closet converted to an office.”
His laugh made her feel better about most everything. “
I’ll see you Sunday, Liv. But honestly? I’ll miss you from now till then.”
He hung up before she could say another word, and what would she say? What could she say?
That she missed him just as much? That her heart yearned to see his name in her phone readout and hear his laugh?
Being here with Jack felt right, but could she trust her instincts on life and love? She’d been wrong before, and if she and Jack messed this up, it wouldn’t be a quiet wrongdoing, not in a town this size. Everyone would know, gossip, share, take sides.
You never worried about such things before and you shouldn’t worry about them now. Worry isn’t of God, it’s of fear. Buck up. Life and love aren’t for wimps. Straighten that backbone, girl.
That’s exactly what she needed to do.
She hauled the marked boxes to the back porch, setting them just outside the kitchen door. By the time she was done, the boxes slated for the house were neatly stacked, and the storage unit was organized into four accessible sections. The pod was rented for a month, and could go longer if needed. But a month should give them enough time to sort through the seventy-four years of her grandparents’ lives. And while that seemed sad, it made her feel helpful. And she hadn’t felt like that in too long a time. Her fault, she knew. But now she had a chance to make things right and she intended to take it, one way or another.
By the time she met Robin in their mutual closet, the afternoon was half gone. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t think sorting the trailer pod would take so long.”
Robin pointed to a six-pack cooler filled with iced teas. “I figured this would be a nice break from coffee because it’s beyond stifling in this room. And I brought that.” She pointed to a small fan, busily puffing air around the cramped, four-walled space. “If nothing else, it gives me a false sense of control.”
Liv started to laugh but stopped when Abigail Rose called her name. The Centennial Committee secretary was accompanied by Jackson Shaw. Would the mayor notice they were dripping with sweat in the confines of the janitor’s closet? Would he care?
Most likely not. She planted a serene look on her face as she turned. “Hot one today, isn’t it?”
Abigail held out her hands with a quick glance down. “I always do cool shades of pink for the dog days of August. Although this shade might be considered warm. What do you think, Liv?” She fluttered her hands to draw attention to the current shade of polish. “No, don’t even bother answering. I can see it’s too warm, much too warm! I’ll change it up later.”
Before Liv could digest Abigail’s spiel, Robin stepped forward. “Can we help you guys with something?”
“The mayor and I wanted to talk to you girls privately,” replied Abigail in a voice that defied any vestige of privacy in the old-time City Hall. She leaned close, her gesture inviting secrecy. “Have you found out anything concerning L.S.?”
The mayor swiped a hand to his head as the heat of the room hit him. “Really, Abigail Rose—”
Abigail slid her glasses down, scorched him with a look, one of the few people in town capable of doing that. She then shifted her attention to Robin and Liv. “Of course, the note could be a red herring. That’s a—”
“A planted clue to throw us off track,” Liv interrupted, hoping all her years of education weren’t completely wasted. “Or it’s...”
“A bona fide clue.” Abigail didn’t try to hide her excitement because crime and vandalism didn’t go hand in hand in their hometown. “And if it is, you girls might have the answer.”
“But we don’t.” Liv wished she had something solid to tell them, good old concrete facts, but the lack of notation about the time capsule in the historical records was notable. If a town went to the trouble to bury a capsule all those years ago, wouldn’t someone, somewhere, have listed the contents? Not in any records they found, unfortunately, but that only made husband-hunting Lilibeth a less likely suspect in Liv’s opinion.
“What was in that capsule?” Abigail went on. “Why would someone dig it up? Was it simply an act of vandalism or was there something of value buried there all these years?”
The mayor swiped his sleeve to his forehead, clearly hot and irritated. “What could there possibly be? This is ridiculous, Abigail. The culprit’s clearly someone trying to stir up trouble. Anonymous notes, stolen capsules—”
“Arson.”
The mayor gulped at Liv’s taut reminder, and something in his gaze said he shared her concerns...and maybe others, as well. His expression darkened, then eased as Robin supported Livvie’s assertion.
“If there was something of value, we sure haven’t found a glimmer of it,” Robin assured them. “The few mentions we’ve found have been somewhat stuffy announcements of period items. Clothing. First newspaper. Letters from soldiers during the First World War. So while they have historical significance, we didn’t find evidence indicating anything of substantial worth.”
The mayor’s sigh drew Liv’s attention. He looked almost happy that they’d found nothing of greater import, but that did make sense in a way. Better a simple act of foolish vandalism than a crime of greater magnitude. “And FYI—we’ve also found absolutely nothing that ties Lilibeth to the capsule in any way, shape or form. The very thought of suspecting her is ludicrous.” Liv met Jackson’s narrowed gaze with one of her own, daring him to challenge her.
He didn’t.
“She was very angry when she didn’t win the crown of Miss Jasper Gulch. And that kind of misplaced anger...” Abigail’s expression suggested that scorned beauty-pageant contestants were capable of most anything.
“Her initials match.” The mayor kept it simple. “And she’s a scatterbrain for sure, always fussing with that blond hair, tossing it about.”
“Being blonde doesn’t make one a scatterbrain,” Liv reminded him with a cool look. “She’s young, impetuous and a little spoiled. Last time I looked, none of those were criminal offenses, and I can’t believe she’d have anything to do with dirt, digging or a shovel. You guys are barking up the wrong tree on this one. Robin?” She turned to face Robin more directly. “What do you think?”
Robin’s hesitation said she struggled with both sides of the argument. “Normally, I’d agree, Liv, but Lilibeth does have a temper. And her initials match.”
“I’m guessing we have a bunch of folks in town with the initials L.S.,” Liv countered. She turned back to Abigail and the mayor. “We’ll keep her in mind as we work, but I can’t put any credence in the suspicion. And if Cal Calloway and the sheriff’s department haven’t found anything tying her to the incident, I’m surprised you’re still pursuing it.”
“That’s an excellent point, Liv.” Abigail’s expression said she agreed with Liv’s belief in the local county sheriff’s office. “If you do turn up anything that might offer the committee more insight, you be sure to let us know. Okay?”
Liv put a reassuring hand on Abigail’s arm. “We will. And, Abigail, honestly? I love that shade of pink for August. I don’t think it’s too warm at all. It matches the coneflowers in my mother’s garden.”
Abigail’s face lit up. “Does it, now?”
“Yes. And if it works in Mother Nature, why not in the nail salon?”
“You’re absolutely right, Olivia! I’ll leave it for the day. There’s always a new shade tomorrow, right?”
“Absolutely.”
The mayor moved off, not bothering with pleasantries like simple goodbyes. Abigail hurried back upstairs, pleased that her polish could stay, although it wouldn’t surprise Liv to see the older woman come down later with a new shade, regardless. Abigail’s frequently changing nails were the talk of the town and she liked it that way.
When Liv turned toward Robin, a hint of sadness struck her. “Robin. You okay?”
“Fine.” She frowned, then shrugged. “It’s just they’ve got very litt
le to go on and they’re more than willing to assume Lilibeth must be the culprit based on a note that might be fraudulent. I liked it better when I thought everyone in town was sweet and nice and sang ‘Kumbaya’ at campfires.”
Robin’s lament painted an image that made Livvie laugh. “Welcome to small towns. And I agree, I think they’re wrong and I hope they don’t come up with some kind of harebrained crusade to catch Lilibeth, because the only thing that girl is guilty of is being young and boy-crazy. There isn’t a criminal bone in her body and I’d stake my researcher’s credentials on it. And on that note.” She grabbed a cold bottle of iced tea and pressed it against her cheeks before twisting the cap off. “I’m going to pretend it’s ten degrees cooler here and get to work.”
“I’ll join you.”
By the time they closed things up a couple of hours later, Liv was even more convinced that Lilibeth wasn’t involved in anything more sinister than boy-watching and big hair. And if the committee thought otherwise?
They would be proven wrong.
Chapter Twelve
“Grandpa? Wanna take a ride with me?” Liv proposed the idea early the next morning, but purposely hadn’t run it by Grandma first. Grandma’s nerves would likely prompt her to say a quick no. Liv wanted a chance for Grandpa to say yes. “I’m going out to a friend’s ranch to take care of some horses and it’s a beautiful day.”
“You got some horses?” Tom perked up and glanced around the living room as if expecting a stampede. “Where are they?”
“My friend Jack has some horses,” she explained patiently. “He lives on a ranch outside of town and I told him I’d come and work with the horses this morning. Wanna come along?”
His Montana Sweetheart (Big Sky Centennial Book 2) Page 14