Dani rolled her eyes. “Never gonna happen,” she said. “But you have a shot at this. You gotta tell her, my friend, and the sooner the better.”
“I can’t until after Thanksgiving. I need to help Grandma. She’s working, anyway, over at the bunkhouse. Night shift. I’ll tell her as soon as I can.”
“Suit yourself,” Dani said as she headed back out to the truck for another load. “Hey, Charley,” she said as she opened the door and Tony turned toward the door.
“Hi, Charley. How’s it going?” She was turning out to be a pretty good security guard, and he was looking forward to going back on the day shift so he could train her even more. But that would mean opposite shifts from Mira and he pushed the thought out of his head to focus on the task at hand.
“Hey, Sheriff. Good here. Not much going on. Pretty quiet due to the holiday. Just some phone calls, but I returned them all.”
He winced when she called him sheriff. That really should be reserved for Shane. “What kind of phone calls,” he asked as he headed back out toward the truck and she followed.
“Just some lady looking for her daughter. You were out so I couldn’t ask about protocol, but I looked in the manual and didn’t see anything. That manual’s pretty thin, you know.”
He smiled, remembering a few years ago when Wade needed a manual and the ranch was much smaller then. He just kept adding to it as new things happened, and so far, this one hadn’t happened.
“A missing person? A kid?”
Charley tucked her thumbs in her utility belt. “No, it was for a grown-up. Somebody named Mirabelle Banks. But it was kind of fun to talk to her—never talked to a famous person before. You know, that singer. Marilee Walters Banks.”
Tony stopped in his tracks. “The singer. The one who sings beach songs?”
“Yep, one and the same. My parents used to really love her. Probably still do, for all I know. I try not to talk about music too much with them. Better that way. Why, do you know they don’t even know who—”
Tony held up his hand and stopped her. His instincts were running fast and furious as he thought of Mira. Mira, not Mirabelle. Mira Walters, not Mirabelle Walters Banks. With a famous mother. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“What did you tell her?” he said, his gut twisting.
“Not much. Said we didn’t have a Mirabelle Walters Banks here. Closest thing was Mira Walters, but it wasn’t even that close. I mean, my name’s Charlotte, but everybody calls me Charley. Not very many people even know I’m Charlotte—”
“You told her that?” he interrupted, his fists clenching at his sides as he thought about Mira, and all the things he needed to tell her—even more so now.
“Sure. Was I not supposed to? It wasn’t like the girl was here.”
“You did fine, Charley. Just fine,” he said as he turned and headed down the steps to the truck. “Hold down the fort, will you? I need to go take care of something.”
“Sure, Sheriff. Just leave it to me. I’ve got it covered,” she said as she went back into the kitchen. Before he could get to the bottom of the steps, she popped her back out. “Oh, Sheriff, she said she’d come out anyway as River’s End Ranch looked so nice. She should be here shortly.”
Tony’s stomach flipped completely this time, and as he got to the bottom of the steps, he said, “Dani, I need your help. I need to talk to Mira right now. Can’t wait. Think you can go get Grandma after you finish unloading? Charley can help you with that.”
“No problem,” Dani said as she caught the keys he tossed her way. “I’m on it. Holler if you need me,” she said as she patted the radio attached to her belt.
“Thanks, he said as he ran down the gravel road toward the bunkhouse.
Chapter 16
“Mira?” Tony shouted as he flew through the door of the bunkhouse. He stopped and looked around the lobby as his hands fell to his knees and he doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
“Just me,” Andrew said as he popped his head over the top of the desk. “Hey, Tony.”
“Where’s Mira? I mean, hi, Andrew.”
“Hi. Mira’s down in Room 114 hanging a picture,” he said before he disappeared back under the desk.
He jogged down the hallway, not even giving himself time to think about what he’d say—he just wanted her to know about her mother, and he wanted to make sure she was all right. To protect her.
“Mira?” he said as he poked his head through the open door of Room 114.
He frowned when he saw her. She sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands, and when she looked up her eyes were red. Maybe she’d already heard.
“Mira, are you all right? I have something to tell you.”
“What? That you’re the famous Antonio Morales? A much better painter than I could ever hope to be? What took you so long?”
He flinched at the pain in her voice and took a step back. He hadn’t meant to deceive her, really. But he could tell by the tears she wiped away that it had been a mistake to keep it from her. A huge one. Dani had been right.
“I only wanted to encourage you. You made me out to be some big, famous artist from the get-go and I’m not that. I’m just a painter. Like you.”
“Like me?” she asked. “Hardly. If you’d heard all the times my mother told me I was wasting my time, didn’t have a lick of talent in my bones, you’d believe it, too.”
“What?” Tony asked as he tried to wrap his head—and heart—around what that must have felt like. No wonder she’d left home and didn’t ever want to go back. All the more reason to give her a head’s up about what was coming down the pike. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly.
She hung her head. “Who wants to tell somebody she cares about, who speaks to their heart, who has a family and a home and is surrounded by love that their mother is—well, not so nice?” she replied.
It pained him to hear her say that, and the sorrow on her face cut like a knife through his heart. He wanted to protect her, to keep her from being hurt as best he could. He remembered his mission, and time was running out.
“Your mother. That’s what I was rushing over to tell you about.
“My mother? What about her?” Mira asked as she stood and began to pace.
“Apparently, she called, looking for you,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, wishing that Charley hadn’t been so good at her job, and he could tell Mira that her mother hadn’t found her.
“Oh, no,” she said, stopping in her tracks. “I’ve got to go. She’ll call again. My mother never stops trying.”
He reached out and held on to her elbow. “I don’t think she’ll need to call again. She found out you were here—at least I’m pretty sure she put two and two together, and—well, she’s on her way. She should be here any minute.”
Mira’s eyes flew open wide and the blood drained from her face. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t go back.”
“Mira, how bad can she be? You’re an adult. A college graduate. A talented artist, and you have every right to live your life the way you want to.”
She grabbed the rubber band from her hair and it billowed around her shoulders, soft in the yellow light of the lamp. She pulled it back into a pony tail again and wrapped the rubber band back around it. She laughed and shook her head slowly. “Do you know who my mother is?”
“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t at first, but Charley told me. She’s pretty famous, I guess.”
She laughed and sat back down on the bed. “Pretty famous doesn’t even begin to explain it. She’s been famous since she was younger than I am and people like that are used to getting their own way. She only let me go to college if I promised to stay in town and get a business degree. I told her I’d always wanted to paint, to own a gallery, but she didn’t care. As soon as I graduated, she announced that I was to take over the management of her business, give up painting, and when I refused, she threatened to disown me.”
“She did? She never supported what you wan
ted to do?”
“Not only did she not support it, she told me every chance she got that I was wasting my time. Just humored me, really. It wasn’t until I graduated and was almost sick at the idea of never painting again, and working for her for the rest of my life when I realized I couldn’t do it. I realized I’d die if I couldn’t paint, and that she had plenty of people around her to take care of her. She didn’t need me.”
He sat down on the bed beside her and draped his arm over her shoulder. “So you decided to run away from home,” he said, doing his best to bite back a laugh. It seemed crazy to him—this strong, adult artist having to leave home to live her own life.
She gave him a weak smile. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but until you’ve met her—I guess I just didn’t know what else to do. My older brother left long ago, the first chance he got.” She sighed, the color returning to her cheeks as she squared her shoulders. “Look, I’m not afraid of her. I just want to mind my own business, paint my paintings and earn an honest living. And she’ll never let that happen as long as she knows where I am. It’s better if I just go.”
Tony sighed and squeezed tighter. He stood and paced in front of the door, trying to decide how to protect her. He knew she wanted to run, but he was clear—he knew he loved her, too, and he wouldn’t let her go. Couldn’t.
“How about if I talk to her?” he asked as he turned back to Mira, although he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d say. If she wouldn’t listen to Mira, why would she listen to him?
He didn’t have time to think much about what he’d say, as Mira stood slowly and blanched, staring over his shoulder at whatever was behind him.
“Mom?” she said.
Tony spun on his heel and looked from Mira to the woman who stood in the doorway, dressed in expensive fur, from the top of her head down to her fur-covered boots.
“Mira, darling, I’ve been so worried about you,” she said as she rushed over to Mira and gripped her in a hug. Mira stood stock still, her arms to her sides as her mother squished her, her eyes wide and directed at Tony.
Mira wriggled free and took a step back. “Mom, there’s nothing to be worried about. I’m a grown-up and can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, darling. You’re a perfectly competent grown-up. Now, let’s get you packed up so you can come home. Where you belong,” she said as she paced the room, running her finger along the top of the dresser as she checked for dust. “This is very quaint, I must say, but you belong in California. With me.”
“Mom, I’m not coming back,” Mira said as she stood beside Tony.
“Sweetheart, let’s just forget about all that ugliness before you left. You don’t need to work for my business. I have plenty of minions for that. But I miss you. I need you. You can tour with me, how’s that? It would be so much fun. We could eat popcorn, watch movies,” she said as she finally took off her sunglasses—it was night, after all.
“Mom, we never did any of that. You were always gone,” Mira said. Tony watched and waited, ready to step in any time he was needed, but so far, Mira was doing fine on her own.
“Well, I was busy, and you always wanted to paint. It was so annoying, you know. Never any time for me.”
Mira sighed, and he saw a soft crinkle around her eyes as she smiled sadly at her mother. She crossed the room, took her mother’s hand and pulled her to sit beside her on the bed.
“Mom, that was a long time ago. And an opportunity missed, for both of us. We can’t go back in time, no matter how much we’d want to.” She held her mother’s hand and Tony took a deep sigh. It was clear to him how much they loved each other, even if they lived on different planets.
“Oh, but I miss you so. You can’t want to stay here, can you?” she said as she gestured dramatically around the room. “And what would you do? You can’t paint all the time. You’re not even very good. I’m sorry, but I’m your mother and I love you and I must tell you the truth.”
Tony couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “Miss Banks, you’re wrong about that. Mira is a very, very talented artist. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Mira’s mother stood, her hand on her hips as she squinted at Tony. “And who might you be?” she asked.
He held out his hand as Mira smiled up at him. “Tony. Er, Antonio Morales, ma’am.”
“I appreciate your opinion on my daughter’s painting skills, but I don’t imagine you know what you’re talking about,” she said as she peered at the star on his chest, “Sheriff.” She paced the room and glanced up at the landscape over the bed. “Now that—that—is art.”
He looked at Mira and held his breath, and they both laughed at the same time.
“Thank you, Mom. It’s one of mine,” Mira said as she reached for Tony’s hand.
Miss Banks frowned and stalked over to the painting, bending down to look at the signature. “Well, I’ll be. All right, so you can paint. What are you going to do here in this tiny little hamlet? You grew up in the city. You can’t live here.”
Tony cleared his throat. “I’m hoping I can change her mind about that, Miss Banks.”
Mira looked up at him and he met her eyes. “You are?”
“Yes. I love you, Mirabelle, and I want you to stay here. With me.”
“Oh, good grief. You two couldn’t possibly have known each other long enough to be in love,” Mira’s mother said with her hands on her hips.
Mira didn’t even turn to look at her mother as she said, “Mind your own business, Mom.”
Her mother gasped and her hand flew to her chest as Mira stood on her tiptoes and brushed her nose against Tony’s.
“I love you, too, Antonio. And yes, I’ll stay. ”
Chapter 17
Mira held onto Tony’s hand as they headed to Jaclyn’s, the portrait of Gorgeous George wrapped in brown paper and tucked under his arm. She squeezed tight, never wanting to let go. It felt so right, her hand in his—even if it wasn’t skin on skin—and she wiggled her fingers in the soft, leather gloves he’d given her and pulled over her hands before they’d left her cabin.
The night before, after everyone had gone to their separate corners, she’d explained everything a little better, even though in the telling and in hindsight after her talk with her mother the previous evening, she didn’t know why she’d been so afraid. That fear had vanished when she met Tony. Warm and fuzzy, that’s how Tony made her feel. And safe. And loved.
And when they’d met with her mother this afternoon, having Tony by her side meant everything in the world to her. Her mother had eventually understood—or at least pretended to—and wished them luck. But not before extracting a promise that they’d visit, and to be honest, Mira thought it sounded nice, and looked forward to walking on the beach. With Tony.
He opened the gate of Jaclyn’s house and ushered her inside the small yard. They treaded lightly as they passed Gorgeous George and bunnies scurried around their feet.
Before they reached the porch, the door opened wide and Jaclyn waved them inside.
“I’ve been waiting for you. I’m so very excited to see. You finished it so quickly.”
Tony and Mira exchanged smiles as he set the portrait on a chair, facing the wood stove.
“Gorgeous George sort of had a mind of his own, and pretty much told us what he wanted.”
“Us?” she asked, one eyebrow cocked as her eyes danced by the light of the wood stove.
“Yes, us,” Tony said as he moved toward Mira and reached for her hand. “I’m not sure how you did it, but thank you.”
“Me? I did nothing. You’ll have to thank the fairies for that.” She smiled up at Tony and nodded. “I’m delighted, and I’m certain Gorgeous George is, as well,”
Mira laughed as she stood and crossed over to the portrait. “Thank you. I sure hope you’re as delighted with the portrait, and that Gorgeous George is, too,” she said as she carefully tore back the paper that covered the painting. She gingerly removed it and stepped back toward the stove to wa
rm her hands as Jaclyn stood and walked slowly toward it.
“Oh, my,” she said slowly, and Mira held her breath as she looked at Tony. He nodded at her reassuringly and stood quietly with his hands behind his back.
“My dear, you’ve done it. Absolute perfection,” she said finally.
Mira let out her breath and wiped her brow. She hadn’t realized how much it mattered to her that her first portrait ever would be well received.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said softly.
“Like it? I love it. And somehow you were able to reproduce his best expression, my favorite one. Full of mischief. Look, his eyes are even twinkling.”
“Your favorite expression?” Tony asked.
Mira tapped her finger on her chin, wondering how many expressions statues of gnomes actually had, but she was grateful that she’d gotten it right and that Jaclyn was happy.
They hadn’t intended to stay long—Tony had told her that he had something to show her—so she took his hand as he reached out for her and pulled her toward the door.
“I’m so glad you like it, Jaclyn,” she said as he ushered her onto the porch.
They stood on the stoop as they tightened their scarves and Jaclyn stood in the threshold, wiping away a tear.
Mira stiffened as she caught a frog leaping onto the porch from the corner of her eye.
“I thought you said frogs are supposed to hibernate in the winter?” she said to Tony as he wrapped his arm around her and waited for the frog to pass in front of them. He held on tight, and she felt her muscles soften as the frog continued on its path, his grip comforting.
“Oh, they do. Unless, of course, they have an assignment. Thank you again for the portrait. I can’t wait to show the other gnomes. They’ll be thrilled—unless they’re jealous. Then you’ll be painting a lot of gnome portraits. Oh, my. I didn’t think about that,” she said as she closed the door.
They both held their hands over their mouths to stifle laughs as Tony opened the gate and reached for her arm, looping it through his as he guided her toward the Old West town. “At least she’s happy. You did a remarkable job, Mira. Truly wonderful.”
Mischievous Maid (River's End Ranch Book 15) Page 8