“Oh, Katherine.” She squeezed her friend’s fingers, sad all over again at how one single moment could change so many lives. As devastating as the accident had been for Maura and her family—losing a child must bring unimaginable pain—Katherine and her son, Brodie, had endured setback after setback in Taryn’s painstakingly slow recovery, measuring each moment in tiny little steps.
“Maybe she won’t ever be the same Taryn,” Claire said carefully. “But she’s tough. I’m still praying you’ll all come through this.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Katherine smiled and finally released her fingers and stepped back. “You and the others have certainly been busy.”
“It’s been a wonderful day so far.”
“We needed this. A reminder that no matter how difficult our own journey, sometimes the only thing that can ease our path is to stop for a while and gather strength by lifting someone else’s burden.”
Claire nodded. “You and Mary Ella have taught me that lesson well over the years.”
“Hand me that extra trowel there and that six-pack of alyssum.”
Claire wanted to argue that Katherine wasn’t dressed for it, in her cream trousers and pastel twinset. But because she had already ruined the other woman’s sweater—and it “wasn’t her favorite anyway”—Claire doubted Katherine would listen.
She handed Katherine the trowel and the six-pack. “I’ve got an extra pair of gloves around here somewhere. Give me a minute to find them.”
“No, don’t bother. I think I need to stand in the sunshine and get my hands dirty today.”
Although Claire’s heart ached, she smiled. The two of them worked side by side in companionable silence and she thought she could see a little more sadness and tension leave the other woman’s features with every passing moment.
Katherine finally spoke when she was adding the last plant to the container. “I do think it’s a wonderful thing you’ve done, but you shouldn’t have worked so hard. You’re still healing yourself.”
“What were you just saying about losing your pain in lifting someone else? I needed this, too.”
She never would have dreamed how much she would need the solace and comfort. If not for the myriad details she had to deal with, she probably would have fallen completely apart after everything that happened with Riley.
“Anyway,” she went on, “I only came up with the idea and then everybody else has just taken off with it. It’s been truly heartwarming to see the town come together.”
“I miss Hope’s Crossing,” Katherine said. “Everyone is very kind at the hospital in Denver and at the apartment building downtown where we’ve rented a place so we can be close to the hospital, but it’s not the same as being home. This whole thing has taken a toll on Brodie, I can tell you that. My son has never been the most patient man. He’s too much like his father was in that respect.”
Claire had generally found Katherine’s son to be cool and disapproving. How such a warm and generous woman could produce such a son mystified her. She didn’t wonder that Brodie was struggling with a daughter who might end up permanently disabled from the accident.
She opened her mouth to answer, but the words died when she saw a familiar silver extended-cab pickup truck pull into the parking lot, its bed filled with lumber.
Whatever she had been about to say flew out of her head as Riley climbed out of the cab. She hadn’t seen him since that night and she braced herself against the pain she knew was stupid and useless.
He turned in their direction but seemed to stop short when he saw her. After a pause, he continued toward them without once meeting her gaze.
“Katherine, hello.” He pulled the older woman into his arms and kissed her cheek. When he set her away, they shared an awkward moment when under normal circumstances he might have greeted Claire the same way. Instead, he gave her a strained sort of smile and shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Claire.”
“Riley,” she murmured, and plucked a hapless dracaena out of the flat.
“Uh, I think we’re done at the playground. We’ve got some extra supplies and somebody at the site said to bring them back here.”
Oh, she missed him. Everything inside her wanted to jump into his arms, to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on tight.
For two weeks, she had told herself each morning she could get through this. She’d survived a divorce, the dissolution of a ten-year marriage to her childhood sweetheart. She could certainly get over Riley McKnight when they’d shared only a few kisses.
So why did her throat ache, her eyes sting?
She cleared her throat. “Um, right. We’ve temporarily created a pile where people can donate unused building materials to anyone who might need something for a project. A clearinghouse kind of thing. It’s on the side of the community center, by the Dumpster. Do you need me to round somebody up to help you unload it?”
“I’ve got it, thanks. See you, ladies.”
He climbed back into his pickup and backed up, then headed for the other side of the parking lot to start clearing out the lumber from his truck.
Claire gazed after him as long as she dared before forcing herself to turn back to her planter. After a moment of continued silence, she looked up and winced when she found Katherine watching her closely, an expression of curiosity and compassion in her eyes.
“I’m sorry things aren’t going well for our new chief of police. It makes me so angry that certain people are so wrapped up in their own agendas and ambitions that they don’t want to give him a chance.”
She dearly hoped none of her naked longing was obvious in her expression. “Why do you say that? What have you heard?”
“Oh, this and that. I haven’t completely let my responsibilities on the city council lapse, you know. I came back last night for the city council meeting and we went into closed session to discuss a few personnel issues. There are a few voices who think we ought to part ways with Chief McKnight when his probationary period is over at the end of this month.”
“J. D. Nyman among them.”
“It doesn’t help that his brother is also on the city council. Or that Riley is at the top of the mayor’s you-know-what list right now.”
Claire knew Mayor Beaumont was doing his best to get Charlie cleared of all charges, something everyone else in town except William Beaumont knew wasn’t going to happen.
“It’s not fair! Riley cares about the people of this town and is a good police chief.”
“Relax, Claire. I agree with you.”
“He has done nothing wrong.”
She realized she was crushing the poor dracaena and relaxed her fingers. If she were being truthful, sometimes late at night she thought it might be easier if Riley did end up leaving town. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about the chance encounter at the grocery store or the gas station—but she didn’t want to see him go like this.
“This is small-town politics and nothing more,” Katherine said. “A few people have grudges for things that happened years ago and they’ve been whispering in the ear of some of the council members whose memories might not be that long.”
“Where do things stand?”
“So far the vote is three to two in favor of keeping him. The mayor can only step in when it’s a split vote—if we have someone who’s absent or chooses to abstain, which is why I left my granddaughter’s hospital bed to make sure I didn’t miss the meeting.”
“Does Riley know?” Claire asked, risking another glance over at his silver pickup.
“I’m sure the rumors have reached him by now.”
If he hadn’t made it so plain that he didn’t want to talk to her, she would have tried to at least offer words of encouragement, to let him know she supported him no matter what.
The whole thing left her terribly sad and feeling helpless.
“Where are you planning to put the planters?” Katherine asked.
“Along Main Street, on those hooks on the lamp-posts they put up a few year
s ago, you know, where they put flags for the summer music festival and the art fair. We’re going to stagger them on every other lamppost.”
“They’ll be lovely, Claire. Really beautiful.”
A few other men had stepped in to help Riley unload his truck and she watched him carry the last load of lumber and set it on the pile. A moment later, his pickup backed out of the space and he turned around to leave. She watched for a moment, then jerked her attention back to the work.
“Do you plan to stay in town long for the dinner and benefit tonight?” she asked Katherine.
“Yes. Brodie is staying in Denver with Taryn this weekend. I promised him I would represent the family for him. Is everything ready? Mary Ella tells me you’ve made an exquisite necklace and earring set. And I heard the news that Ruth is actually putting Hope Van Duran’s silver necklace up for bid. I was stunned. I’m definitely planning to take my checkbook.”
“Here’s hoping everyone else in town decides to do the same thing,” she said.
“HASN’T THIS JUST BEEN the best day ever?”
Riley looked down at his mother in his arms as they danced to the string combo in the corner of the Silver Strike Hotel ballroom, playing a particularly nice arrangement of “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
Mary Ella looked lovely, although she still had dark shadows under her eyes and a few more strands of silver in her hair, reflecting the twinkling lights overhead.
She wore a satiny blue dress he thought he remembered from the big birthday party a few years ago the family threw at Lila’s place in Malibu for her and her twin sister, Rose. Lila was divorced and a hotshot businesswoman in California, while Rose had married a successful dermatologist and moved to Utah several years ago, where the population was young and the skin apparently lousy.
“It’s a lovely night following a beautiful day,” Mary Ella said.
“How could it not be lovely when I get to dance with the prettiest girl in Hope’s Crossing?” he said, earning only an eye roll in response.
“It’s true,” he protested. “You’ve still got it, you know.”
She smiled a little, her fingers tightening in his. “You’re very sweet to say so, son.”
“I’m serious, Mom.” It seemed a night for questions somehow. Anything to distract him from mooning over Claire. Every time he turned around, she seemed to be directly in his line of vision. She was exquisite in a backless black cocktail dress that set off her lush curves.
As he turned his mother on the dance floor, he caught sight of Claire near the dais being set up for the auction, straightening the cloth on the table, for heaven’s sake. As if no one else in the room could take care of that detail.
All evening, she had been in perpetual motion. He wondered if she’d had a chance to get off her walking cast for even five measly minutes. He would have liked to grab her and make her sit down somewhere for a breather, but had to remind himself Claire’s typical overexertions were none of his damn business.
He jerked his attention away and focused on his dance partner. “Ma, why didn’t you ever marry again after Dad left? You had to have had offers.”
He rarely brought up that dark time in their lives after James McKnight left. He would rather forget the whole thing, even though, like a bad patch of stink-weed, it permeated every part of their lives.
Mary Ella looked surprised at the question. “Not as many as all that, but yes, I had a few chances.”
“Why not take one?”
“I could ask the same of you. You’re thirty-three years old, Riley. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped acting like you’re still in a fraternity somewhere?”
He didn’t miss her abrupt change of subject. It was a tactic he employed often when interrogating a subject, but he was no more immune to it than the dumbest criminal.
“Unfair,” he said automatically. “I’ve been in Hope’s Crossing two months now and I haven’t dated anyone.”
“Claire doesn’t count?”
He missed a step and barely avoided stomping on his mother’s foot. “How did you… I’m not dating Claire.”
“Too late. You’re not as slick as you think you are. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
“You’re imagining things, you crazy old bat,” he said with what he hoped was a casual grin. If he made a joke, maybe she wouldn’t notice the heat he could feel rising up his neck. “You must need your bifocals checked.”
She pinched the back of his neck.
“Ow!”
“That’s for being disrespectful to your mother.” She pinched him again. “And that’s for whatever you did to hurt our Claire.”
“Who says I did anything?”
“I say. You’re the reason she’s got that lost look in her eyes these days, aren’t you? Drat you, James Riley. What were you thinking? Claire isn’t one of your stupid California bimbos.”
“I know that. Believe me, I know,” he said in a low voice.
His mother stared at him, eyes narrowed. He tried to look away, but she must have seen something in his eyes because she stopped moving, just stood stock-still right there on the dance floor.
She gripped his face in her hand and looked into his eyes and he couldn’t look away, although he was grimly aware all the misery eating away his insides must be right there for the world to see.
“You’re in love with her. Oh, sweet heavens.”
“No,” he said quickly and pulled his face away. “So are we done dancing? The music is not quite over.”
He should have just pulled a double shift, as he’d wanted to. That had been his master plan, but Katherine Thorne had basically ordered him here to make an appearance. Did the half hour he had been here already cover any political obligation he might have?
“What did you do to her?” his mother asked, a voice loud enough they were starting to draw attention.
“Nothing,” he insisted. “Absolutely nothing. Can we talk about this another time?”
“No, I want to know what you did. Did I actually raise my son to be that big of an idiot that he wouldn’t recognize a woman like Claire for the best thing that ever happened to him? Yes, she might be a bit older than your usual ditzes, but that only gives her a depth and maturity. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, she’s compassionate. What else do you need, for heaven’s sake?”
“Ma, please stop. I agree. Claire is wonderful. You don’t think I know that? She’s perfect…and I’m not.”
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide and slightly stricken.
“Riley—”
“Just give it a rest, Ma, okay? Thanks for the dance.”
He walked her to the edge of the dance floor, gave her a brief hug and then walked away before she could say any of the arguments he could see brewing in the green eyes he had inherited.
He had to get out of here. The crowd and the music pressed in on him and he was desperate for fresh air. He headed out the double doors into the lobby of the resort and kept going through the massive carved outside doors.
The cool mountain air was fresh and sweet. No matter where he eventually ended up, that particular scent—sage and pine and wilderness—would always mean home.
The jazz music was still audible out here, though muted. Riley took a deep breath, wishing suddenly for a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked since his rebellious teens and had no intention of ever starting again, but once in a great while the fierce craving for that nicotine rush hit him like a fist to the gut.
A thin blur of smoke drifted to him. Cigar. An expensive one. Apparently someone else had the same craving.
He turned his head, squinting into the shadows. He saw only a dark shape there and the red glow of the cigar until the other man stepped into the light from the chandelier of entwined elk antlers that hung from the massive log support beam overhead.
“McKnight,” Harry Lange greeted, his voice gruff and the cigar clamped between his teeth.
“Mr. Lange,” he said just as curtly. He wasn’t
in the mood to be polite, especially not to the sour bastard who owned half the town, including this resort. He should just keep walking, maybe stroll around the hotel perimeter just to make sure Lange’s security was up to par. He started to take a step, but the other man spoke before he could.
“Big turnout.”
Riley sighed. He couldn’t be rude, much as he would like to. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
Harry harrumphed. “Why? Because I think most of the people in this town have shit for brains?”
Riley couldn’t help his small smile. Was it because Harry Lange had more money than God that turned him so contrary or had he been that way even before the real estate deals that had cemented his fortune?
“Yeah, something like that. I didn’t think you were generally part of the town social scene.”
Harry puffed his cigar. “Seems like a good cause, a memorial for that dead girl. I figured I might bid on the Sarah Colville painting. I’ve got a couple of hers already. I’d like to add a few more to my collection, but for some reason she refuses to sell me any more, at least not directly. I figure this is a good way to pick one up on the cheap. People around here don’t know quality when it bites them on the ass and I figure I’ve got deeper pockets than anyone else in town. It will probably be a steal.”
Using a benefit auction to hunt for bargains. Definitely sounded like a Harry Lange tactic. The man had turned being unpleasant into an art form. He remembered suddenly that Claire had told him Harry and Mary Ella were carrying on some sort of feud. He could easily picture Lange holding a grudge over anything, no matter how inconsequential, if he were in the mood. But Riley still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that his mother would ever retaliate in kind.
“The dead girl was one of your sister’s kids, wasn’t she?”
Riley released a heavy breath, picturing Layla, all Goth and attitude.
“Yeah. Maura’s youngest.”
“Maura. She’s the one who married that musician, right?” There seemed to be more than normal curiosity in the other man’s voice, although Riley couldn’t figure out why Harry Lange would be so interested in his family.
RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry SummerWoodrose MountainSweet Laurel Falls Page 27