No.
Bob spread his arms wide. “Look at me. I’m no supermodel. I can’t compete.”
She took in his squat five-foot-five stature, baggy cargo shorts, and plaid flannel shirt, and tried to bite back a grin. “Pretty sure you don’t have the requisite girl parts.” To say nothing of a little fashion sense.
“So you’ll do it?” He tilted his head to the side and waggled his bushy eyebrows.
Probably thought it was a come-hither look. “No. I think you should make a run for it. Squash the gender inequality of such a pageant. You’ve got great ideas for agritourism stops in Lewis and Clark County. You’d do the CSA proud.”
“Nice speech.” Bob shoved his hands back in his pockets. “But gender equality is a fight for another day. This pageant is a girly thing.”
“And many women are part of the CSA.” Most of them were married, though, and forty-plus. Not what the Miss Snowflake pageant was looking for. It hadn’t taken half an hour on their website to figure it out. Yeah, she’d looked.
“Do be serious, Marisa. Think of the good you could do.”
That’s what she thought in Kenya. Or what she thought she’d been thinking until Jase challenged her. Mucking in the soil, teaching orphans how to grow food from seed, how to mix animal dung with the dirt to create a better growing environment. How could he have seen that as wrong? As self-serving?
Her conscience stung. He hadn’t been against her project. He’d challenged the reasons she’d wanted it captured on film. To exploit the kids stuck in poverty to advance her career. To make her look good, he’d said. Like the saving angel.
But the kids needed saving. They needed help. The filth and disease and despair still clawed at her dreams, cascading her into nightmares. How could her intervention be wrong?
“Marisa? Is it something I said?”
She blinked and brought Bob’s face into focus. “Sorry.”
“The board talked about what you’re doing for the families on assistance.”
“Doing with them. Not for them. They’re doing it themselves.”
“Semantics.”
“No, an important difference. I just allowed them access to what used to be a lawn I had to mow. They’re using it to grow food, and it saves me time.”
Bob tipped his head back and a laugh bellowed out. “Oh, don’t give me that. Don’t forget I drive out past your place every day. I’ve seen you in the garden. There’s no way you spend less time than you did mowing once a week. I bet your John Deere used to do that space in half an hour, if that.”
There wasn’t enough lawn left to speak of. She’d sold the mower and bought a non-motorized contraption for the remaining postage stamp-sized bits. But he didn’t need to know.
“Doesn’t matter.” Marisa shrugged. “I hate mowing.”
“The point is you care about food. Lots of our CSA growers are just trying to make enough money to stay on the land. Farming isn’t their passion the way it is yours. You inspire them.”
“That’s… nice.” Dumb answer, but he’d caught her off guard. She hadn’t kept the assistance plots a secret. Not that she would have been able to, when the land she’d turned over stretched from the highway to the house along both sides of the driveway. Difficult to hide the gardens themselves, let alone the half dozen women and piles of kids that descended upon them more evenings than not.
Bob leaned closer. “We want you to represent us in the pageant. This is an important opportunity to grow the CSA, not only in subscriptions but our team as well. People need to know about the benefits we offer. They need to know healthy fresh food doesn’t have to cost the earth.”
Oh man. She really-really-really didn’t want to do this. Not with Jase snapping pictures every time she turned around, silently berating her every choice. Or not so silently.
But what did she care about Jase’s opinion? He’d lost any right to tell her what to do. To be fair, he’d never had it. She’d let his attitude run her life long enough.
“The board has a carrot to offer you.”
Marisa narrowed her eyes at Bob.
He grinned. “A Scarlet Nantes.”
“Ha.” Thought he was cute, poking fun at the variety of carrot she’d chosen to grow for the CSA this year. Hadn’t the clients kept asking for them, though?
“We’ll support the school lunch program in your name.”
A second ago she’d been wavering. “No.”
A puzzled frown crossed Bob’s face. “But you care about these kids. Don’t you?”
That would be handing a boatload of ammunition to Jase. “I don’t want my name attached to it. It’s not about me.” Never had been.
“But—”
Marisa pressed her fingers to her temples. Jase needed to get out of her head. Was it wrong to do good? Or only if she benefitted as well? But how could she do good if she avoided opportunities like this? What did God want of her?
But to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.
Could she retain humility while competing in a beauty pageant?
“Bob, I’ll need to think about it. Pray about it.”
His eyes brightened, and he opened his mouth.
Marisa held up her hand. “I’ll get back to you in a day or two. I want to make sure if I do it — and it’s a big if — that I’m doing it for the right reasons.”
“You’ll do what’s right. You have a passion for food. For the kids.”
Water circled the drain, each revolution taking her closer to going down with it. She could still extricate herself. But did she want to?
CHAPTER 4
The parlor of the historic main building of the Grizzly Gulch Resort lay strangely quiet, considering nearly two dozen women inhabited the space. A few chatted quietly in corners. Jase had never expected to be able to hear the classical music his dad insisted piping into the room.
He gripped his camera. Registration for the Miss Snowflake Pageant closed in half an hour. Had he really expected Marisa to come? She’d given up modeling. His brain skittered away from the fact that he’d been responsible for that. So why would she do this?
To see him again. To see if they still had chemistry.
He didn’t need her here every day to know it still existed. That moment in front of The Parrot two weeks ago told him it was mutual. Even without the pageant, he could find her again, could try to make amends. Why had he waited?
The front door swished open and Avalon floated in, wearing a short skirt and fluffy sweater. How could he have forgotten her? Why hadn’t he wondered why she wasn’t here yet? Marisa had stolen his brain.
Avalon allowed herself a small smile at the sight of him. “Jase darling.” She drifted closer and kissed the air on both sides of his cheeks.
“Hi, Avalon. The registration desk is just through those double doors.” Which were wide open, so probably everyone had seen Avalon’s entrance. He glanced over.
Kristen, seated at her desk, watched with wide eyes. She mouthed “Avalon?”
Jase gave a hopefully imperceptible nod as he backed up a couple of steps. It would never do for the contestants to believe he was favoring any one of them.
Just the photographer, Jase. It wasn’t like he had any say over the outcome. His job was to record the events. Not that different from a modeling shoot, really.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Avalon murmured.
“I am.” He blinked back to the present. “But I’m working. Your destiny awaits in the parlor.” He summoned a smile as he indicated the doors once again.
She gripped his free hand — the one not holding the camera — and leaned in. She said something more, but his gaze riveted on the front door as it opened once again.
Marisa. No one pulled off casual as elegantly as she did. Dark skinny jeans ended in over-the-knee boots. Gucci, if he wasn’t mistaken. A vibrant purple sweater allowed a coral top to peek out. Makeup today, just the right amount. And her hair, with loose curls tied back at
the top.
Jase shifted around Avalon. Was she still talking? In just a few steps he’d reached Marisa’s side. “You came.” You’re gorgeous, he wanted to say. He’d told her before. He’d said more than that.
Way too much more at JFK.
“Hi, Jase. I see I found the right place.” She glanced around the entry hall, her gaze focusing on the parlor to her right. “In there, I assume?”
“Yes.” He backed up a step. Gave her space. She was here to sign up for Miss Snowflake. He’d see her often for the next two months. Have the privilege of shooting her. No need to push her today.
In those boots she nearly matched his height. Unlike the surprise meeting in the walking mall downtown, today she was on her game. She gave him a breezy smile, wiggled her fingers in his direction, and strode into the parlor as though it was a catwalk. A stage. All eyes trained on her.
From what he could see of the group in the parlor, it was true. Kristen stood behind her desk with a big smile. “Marisa! Good to see you.” She winked at Jase.
He was sunk. Clammy hands gripped his camera. Buzzing circled his head. God had given him another chance. He couldn’t blow this one. Please, Lord.
“Well, that certainly puts a new spin on things.” Avalon’s voice dashed over him like an Arctic wave.
He’d forgotten she was here, a witness to him making a fool of himself. Had he really done that? He hadn’t said anything too condemning. He hadn’t raised his camera. He hadn’t taken her in his arms, pulled her close, tasted her sweet lips.
That was Kenya. Before.
This was now. After.
He needed to get a grip. To wrench his gaze from Marisa with her back to him. Her gentle curves.
“Don’t humiliate me,” Avalon snarled in a whisper. She strode across the entry hall and into the parlor, her head high. Straight toward Marisa.
~*~
Marisa could set personal feelings aside. She’d done it on the job before, and she would do it again. She smiled at Kristen. Jase’s sister. No, her event coordinator. Professional level. She could do this.
“Hi, Kristen. I’m ready to sign in.”
That was probably obvious. It felt like every eye in the parlor was focused right on her. Most of all, Jase’s eyes — and that woman, whoever she was. Holding hands with Jase. So much for the jolt of attraction Marisa thought she’d seen in his eyes. Fickle man.
Whatever. She’d entered because Bob and the Tomah CSA had pushed her into it. Not because of Jase Mackie.
She reached for the clipboard as Kristen passed it across the desk, but something — someone — slammed into her elbow and the clipboard clattered onto the polished oak floor.
No accident.
“Oh, let me get that for you.” The willowy blonde leaned over and rescued the clipboard. She handed it to Marisa and whispered, “It’s okay. I used to be rather clumsy, too.”
Was Junior High back in style? Marisa shook her head. With any luck she could keep the smirk off her face.
“I’m Avalon Penhaven. And you are...?”
“Marisa Hiller. It’s nice to meet you.” Marisa smiled. “Excuse me, I need to fill out my form.”
“Oh, I suppose I should do that, too.” Avalon turned to Kristen and stretched out her hand.
A vacant Louis XIII chair flanking a bushy potted plant beckoned Marisa from the far end of the room, near an ornate door. Best of all, no empty seats were near it. Murmuring a greeting, she smiled at the girls on either side as she settled in.
To think her great-great-great-grandmother had lived in this mansion, perhaps sat in this very chair. The plastered wall with wainscoting below looked recent, but Marisa had seen photos of the room’s early days and had to give Jase’s parents credit for renewing the richly detailed ambience of the original.
She turned her attention to the forms. Of course, she’d gone through the online process and paid her entrance fee already — thanks to Bob — but this was the legally binding part of the process. Time to read the fine print and sign her name.
A rustle from behind her pulled her attention, and she shifted slightly in the old chair to glance at the plant. The leaves nearest her trembled.
Marisa raised her eyebrows. No draft in the room, at least none that should selectively move a few leaves and not others. Curious. She leaned back a little, the chair creaking, and gently brushed the greenery aside.
A little pixie, no more than six, stared back at her from wide brown eyes. A red-gold ponytail increased the likelihood that the child belonged to the inn and thus to Jase’s family. Marisa glanced at Kristen. Yes, a likely connection.
What little girl could resist a dress-up party with a group of pretty women? Not this one, apparently. Marisa wouldn’t be the one to out her. She winked conspiratorially and released the leaves to hide the imp once more.
“Oh, did you lose something in there?” Marisa nearly jumped at Avalon’s cool voice, so near.
“No, not at all.” Marisa smiled brightly. “I’m very interested in plants, and this healthy Dieffenbachia caught my attention.”
Was it her imagination, or did the plant emit a tiny giggle?
“Oh, you’re the entrant that’s a farmer. Of course you’d be interested in plants. I’m pretty sure you can’t eat that one, though.”
Oh, really? She’d never have guessed.
She managed to bite the words back before they came out. Where did this woman get off with all her venom, anyway? All because Jase had stepped around her to greet Marisa when she arrived?
But it hadn’t been just a greeting. The spark still existed between them and, apparently, it wasn’t as hidden as she’d hoped. She’d work on that.
Professional level.
Avalon settled into a ladder-backed chair a few seats down, managing her short skirt efficiently. Someone had taught her poise, if not manners. She swept her multi-toned blond hair over her shoulder and caught Marisa’s eye. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose for an instant, and her brown eyes flashed.
Then her copper-clad lips tilted upward as though they shared a private joke. As though it would be funny if Avalon did her best every day to have Marisa discounted as a country bumpkin.
Right. The paperwork. Marisa bent her attention back to the fine print laying out all that was expected of a Miss Snowflake contestant and winner. Everything looked quite straightforward. She’d be very busy for an entire year if she won. Not allowed to get married during her reign. Well, that wouldn’t be a problem. She signed her name with a flourish.
“Have you seen Charlotte?”
Marisa glanced up.
An elegant woman in her fifties or sixties stood in front of Kristen’s desk.
A look of concern crossed Kristen’s face. “I thought she was with you.”
“She was playing with Liam in her room, or so I thought. She knows better than to leave without permission.”
Uh-oh. Marisa didn’t dare glance at the potted plant.
Jase stepped into the room. “She can’t have gone far, Mom. Maybe she’s over at the playground.”
Mrs. Mackie looked doubtful and glanced around the space. “I didn’t see her there. I thought she might have snuck over here, though. She’s been playing dress-up all morning, so excited to have a real beauty pageant on the premises.”
That would account for the sparkling silver bodice that had looked a few sizes too big on the tyke. Marisa couldn’t very well tell on her, could she? Yet everyone seemed so concerned.
Kristen bit her lip. Her thoughts were obvious as they crossed her face. What should a mama do? Abandon her event and go look for her child? Or trust others to locate her?
Not that Charlotte was lost, but Kristen and her family didn’t know that.
“Kristen, you handle things here.” Jase put his hand on his sister’s arm. “I’ll go find her. Don’t worry. She can’t have gone far.”
He’d head out there, calling the child’s name, over and over. That hardly seemed fair when he, too,
had a job to do. Marisa bumped the plant with her elbow, hoping to send a message. Apparently the message wasn’t received.
Every eye in the room seemed focused on the family gathered around the desk.
Marisa had to do something, but what? She couldn’t betray the little girl, but everyone was so worried. “Why don’t we all take a half hour to scour the house and grounds? With so many helping, it shouldn’t take long to find her.” Like two seconds, tops.
Mrs. Mackie swung to face her. “Oh, we can’t have that. You young ladies are here for the pageant, nothing to do with our little one.” But her face still held hope.
Some of the other women murmured and nodded their agreement to Marisa’s plan. “Yes, we can help.”
“For sure.”
“Good idea.”
Jase met Marisa’s gaze in the instant before the contestants surged to their feet, breaking the line-of-sight. The women gathered around Jase and his mother for instructions.
Avalon shot Marisa a nasty look as she stood. Whether it was for being the genius who thought of a plan everyone welcomed or for something else, Marisa didn’t know. Maybe Avalon simply didn’t like anything out of her control.
Oops. She should look more eager to help. Marisa elbowed the plant as she stood. She bent and set her clipboard on the floor. “Sneak out the door to the grand hall and go to the staircase,” she whispered.
The leaves fluttered slightly.
Marisa joined the group around the Mackie-O’Brien family at the desk, backs to the Dieffenbachia. Avalon shifted away from her. Just as well. Marisa shot a glance over her shoulder in time to see a sliver of glitter flit out the door. She turned back to hear the instructions.
Jase was thinking on his feet as he divided the girls into groups and assigned parts of the mansion to search. He seemed really worried about his little niece. He’d once told her he loved working with child models more than the adults. He’d done a great job with them, too.
The first group led the way into the hall. Just as Marisa hoped, a sharp exclamation came immediately. “She’s right here!”
Everyone poured into the entry. Kristen’s shriek and Jase’s low, steady voice were clear amidst the chatter. Marisa hung back.
More Than a Tiara: A Christian Romance (Christmas in Montana Romance Book 1) Page 3