After Tex

by Sherryl Woods

  18

  “Have you seen Tess this morning?” Mrs. Gomez asked when Megan finally came into the kitchen after ten on Sunday.

  Still exhausted from her late-night meeting, Megan yawned. “Isn’t she still asleep?”

  “At this hour? Heavens, no. She is an early riser like your grandfather. She is up with the chickens.”

  A vague sense of unease stirred in Megan. “Have you looked in the barn?”

  “She is not with the kittens,” Mrs. Gomez replied. “That was the first place I checked. And before you ask, Tex’s horse is still in his stall. I believe she learned her lesson about trying to ride him.”

  Megan studied the housekeeper worriedly. “You don’t suppose…?”

  “That her mother came?” Mrs. Gomez suggested, immediately picking up on her unspoken thought. “Tess would not go with her, not without stirring up a fuss. After her reaction the other day when we learned of her mother’s return, I am sure of that.”

  “Then she’s probably just gone for a walk,” Megan said, trying to convince herself and Mrs. Gomez that there was no reason to be concerned. “As soon as I have some breakfast, I’ll go look for her.” She reached for a cranberry-filled muffin still warm from the oven and bit into it, even as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Have you seen Todd?”

  “I believe he is in Tex’s office. He ate three of my muffins and then said he had work to do,” she said, her disapproval plain. “I told him it was a day of rest.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “That he worked for a woman who didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Megan pressed a kiss to the housekeeper’s cheek. “It’s an emergency,” she assured her. “Moving the show out here really screwed up our production plans. I swear to you that by next week, things will settle down.”

  “This I will believe when I see it,” Mrs. Gomez retorted. “You are not in a line of work that ever settles down. Now sit. Eat. I will go and look for Tess. You have too many things on your mind as it is.”

  Megan stayed at the kitchen table and savored her second cup of coffee, enjoying the brief respite before the guaranteed storm of activity that the rest of the day and the upcoming week would bring. She was still there when the housekeeper returned after a more thorough search for Tess.

  “She is nowhere, none of her usual hiding places,” Mrs. Gomez reported, frowning. “I do not like this. It is not like Tess to vanish without leaving word.”

  “She did it before,” Megan pointed out. “Just the other night.”

  “This is different. I can feel it.”

  To be honest, Megan didn’t like the feel of it, either. Maybe she was just picking up on Mrs. Gomez’s concern, but a little knot of dread was forming in her stomach. If only Jake were here, he would know what to do, where to look. As much as she hated to admit it, he seemed to understand Tess far better than she did.

  “If she doesn’t turn up in the next half hour, I’ll call Jake,” Megan said with reluctance.

  “That would be best,” Mrs. Gomez agreed. “He and Tess are two of a kind. I think your grandfather knew that when he put Jake in charge of his estate.”

  Megan’s gaze narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “Just that Tex knew they would be good for each other.”

  “But he made me Tess’s guardian,” Megan reminded her, not sure why she was hurt by what the housekeeper was suggesting.

  “You are family. He trusted you to do right by Tess.” Mrs. Gomez looked distraught. “I am not saying this well.”

  “Oh, I think you’re saying it fine. I think you believe that Tex didn’t trust me at all, that Jake was his backup in case I failed.”

  “I would never say such a thing,” Mrs. Gomez protested. “I helped to raise you. No one knows your strengths better than I.”

  “And my failings,” Megan pointed out. “No, you are too kind to say that I’m likely to screw up, but you believe it just the same.”

  And the terrible thing was, Megan thought as she left the kitchen, even she believed the housekeeper might be right. For every step forward she took in building a relationship with Tess, there were a half-dozen back.

  Because she didn’t know where else to go or what else to do, she headed for Tex’s office to check in with Todd before launching her own search for Tess. At the doorway, she screeched to a halt. Inside, heads bent over the huge architectural rendering of Peggy’s kitchen that Megan had borrowed, were Todd and Tess.

  “What does this mean?” Tess was asking, pointing to a note attached to one side.

  “It means that the segment on drying cranberries will take ten minutes, that it will use the kitchen set and that it will be followed by the recipe for those muffins Mrs. Gomez made this morning,” Todd explained patiently.

  “Megan’s going to make those?” Tess asked, her expression incredulous. “On television?”

  “Yep.”

  Tess continued to look skeptical. “Have you ever eaten one of Megan’s muffins?”

  Todd grinned. “It’s not important that she be a great chef, just that she can entertain the audience, communicate the recipe and make it sound easy.”

  “In other words, you have,” Tess said. “Her cooking sucks.”

  Todd glanced up and caught sight of Megan. “I wouldn’t say that,” he replied diplomatically.

  “Oh, go ahead and say it,” Megan said. “We all know that I have a tendency to get distracted and burn things.”

  Todd grinned. “That’s why we prebake the finished product, so it’s picture perfect. You add ingredients, you stir, someone else bakes.”

  “You mean it’s like a giant fib that she’s really cooking all that stuff?” Tess demanded. She scowled at Megan. “Did Tex know?”

  “It’s not really a fib,” Megan said defensively. “There’s not enough time to bake on the air. Every show precooks the final product so it can be dished up and served at the end of the episode.”

  “What about those fancy flower arrangements?” Tess demanded, her expression indignant. “Is some florist hiding backstage to do those, too? And what about when you do that quilting stuff?”

  Megan felt as if she’d been caught cheating on her high school math test. “I do most of the work,” she insisted, “but naturally I have consultants. I have a whole staff of people doing the planning and preparation. Otherwise, I’d never get the magazine out each month or get the show on the air every day.”

  “But everybody thinks you’re like this Suzy Homemaker or something,” Tess protested. “What a rip-off. You probably don’t even like to do that stuff.”

  “Of course I do,” Megan said. “Okay, some of it’s a little tedious, but most of it is challenging and fun.”

  Tess still looked as if she’d been betrayed. “I’ll bet you can’t even grow a decent tomato, not the way Tex could.”

  Actually, Megan was pretty sure she could grow a tomato if she had to. How hard could it be to stick a seed in the ground, water it and watch it grow? Unfortunately, as a practical matter, there hadn’t been a lot of places to grow a tomato in her New York apartment. The gardening segments were done at a borrowed house on Long Island…by a landscaping professional and a farmer.

  “I could grow one,” she insisted to Tess.

  “Bet you couldn’t,” Tess countered.

  “Well, it’s not the right time of year to try,” Megan said, thankful for small favors.

  “Ever heard of a greenhouse?” Tess demanded. “Tex has one. He put it in back of the barn so he could get a jump start on the growing season.”

  Just then Jake joined them. “What’s in back of the barn?”

  “A greenhouse,” Megan said, unable to keep a despondent note out of her voice.

  “And that is important because…?” he asked, clearly confused.

  “Because she and Tess are having a pissing contest over tomato growing,” Todd said with evident amusement. “I suspect we’re about to be treated to dueling tomato pla
nts, winner takes all.”

  Tess looked a little too intrigued by the idea for Megan’s comfort. If she weren’t careful, there would be a tell-all in some tabloid about how she’d been bested in the garden by a pip-squeak. Her sterling reputation would be left in tatters.

  “Forget it,” she said emphatically. “I am not going to challenge you to a tomato-growing contest.”

  “It would be a great segment for the show,” Todd taunted. “We could do little weekly updates, measure the height, count the blossoms. Putting you and Tess together on the air would make you seem even more human. The audience would love it.”

  “The audience will not love it, because they will not see it,” Megan insisted. “This isn’t some game where I have to prove myself to an eight-year-old.”

  Jake regarded her knowingly. “Maybe you do have something to prove,” he suggested. “Not to Tess. To yourself.”

  “I do not have anything to prove,” she retorted. “Now, can we get to work?”

  “You’re the boss,” Todd said readily.

  Jake bent down and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Think about it,” he murmured in a voice too low to be overheard. He stood and held out his hand. “Come on, Tess. Let’s go riding.”

  Megan’s gaze shot to his. “You’re taking her riding?”

  “She needs another lesson and you need us out of your hair, right?”

  “Right,” she agreed.

  As they left, heading out to enjoy a picture-perfect fall day, maybe one of the last before winter’s onset, Megan sighed. She was surprised by the wave of disappointment that washed over her. For the first time in years, she actually regretted that she always made work her first priority.

  “Some guy’s coming this afternoon,” Tess announced as she and Jake rode toward the creek.

  “What guy?” Jake asked, not at all pleased by the jealousy that streaked through him.

  “Todd says he’s some numbers guy who’s got the hots for Megan.” She regarded Jake with evident curiosity. “What’s a numbers guy?”

  “An accountant, I imagine,” Jake responded, taking note of the fact that Tess apparently didn’t require an explanation for the rest of Todd’s remark. Either she’d dismissed it as unimportant or she knew entirely too much for a kid.

  “I don’t think you need to worry, though,” Tess went on slyly.

  “Why would I worry?”

  “In case Megan likes him back, silly. But she doesn’t.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “Todd said.”

  Jake shook his head in disbelief. “You actually asked Todd?”

  “Well, of course I did,” she said matter-of-factly. “How else are you supposed to find out stuff?”

  “Some things are personal,” Jake pointed out.

  “Todd said, not me. I figured it was okay to ask. Besides, Megan wasn’t there to get mad.”

  “You were still prying into her private life.”

  “I guess that means you don’t want to know what else Todd said,” she suggested.

  “About this numbers guy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Curiosity won out over his desire to set a good example. “What did he say?”

  “He said the guy thinks he’s some kinda big hero.”

  Jake tensed. If there was going to be a hero in Megan’s life, it wasn’t going to be some CPA from New York. “Todd told you that?”

  “No,” Tess said impatiently. “He said that to Megan before I talked to him.”

  “And you just happened to overhear it?”

  Tess regarded him with pity. “When you’re a kid, you gotta listen. Grown-ups are always deciding stuff about you. It’s best to know what’s going on.”

  Jake admired her logic, if not her strategy. “Eaves-dropping is not a good thing, short stuff.”

  “Megan said that, too. What are you guys, the etiquette police?”

  Jake coughed to hide a chuckle. “And what do you know about etiquette?”

  “Not much, according to Miss Herter at school. She’s always saying I got no manners.”

  “And very little grasp of proper English,” Jake added. Oh, well, one thing at a time. He’d leave the grammar to the teachers, but it wouldn’t hurt to reinforce a few lessons on manners.

  He gave Tess a stern look. “Okay, here’s the deal. No more listening at keyholes, hiding behind chairs—”

  “I never—”

  “Oh, yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Tex warned me about that little habit of yours and it won’t happen again. Private conversations are meant to be just that, private.”

  “I still say I got a right to know stuff.”

  “If you have questions, ask.”

  “How do I know what questions to ask if I don’t know what’s going on?”

  “Maybe you should just stop assuming that something is going on that involves you.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she said grumpily. “Every time I turn around something’s happening, and I’m usually right smack in the middle of it.”

  She had a point. “Okay, I’ll make you a promise. If anything comes up that involves you, I will tell you about it right up front.”

  She regarded him skeptically. “Cross your heart?”

  Jake sketched a cross over his chest. “Promise.”

  Tess nodded solemnly. “Okay, then. Maybe you’d better start by telling me where my mom’s hiding out.”

  “I haven’t seen your mother since she visited the ranch the other day,” he said honestly.

  “But she’s gonna come back, right?”

  “She said she would.”

  “Is Megan just gonna let me go with her?”

  “No, absolutely not,” Jake insisted. “You know that, Tess. That’s why she stayed here this week.”

  “Maybe I should just go with my mom now and get it over with,” she said wearily. “It would make it easier.”

  “Easier for whom?”

  “Megan. You.”

  “Do you want to be with your mom?” Jake asked cautiously.

  “No way. I mean, it’s not like she wanted me till she found out about Tex being dead and me maybe having some money, right?”

  “Then you can stop worrying about it. Megan and I will see to it that you stay right here at the ranch. Tex wanted you to stay here. He set it up so that you could.”

  “But he made Megan come home when she didn’t want to. That’s my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s just the way things had to be. Megan will adjust.” He leaned down. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

  “What?”

  “I think she’s a whole lot happier about being home than she’s been letting on.”

  “Boy,” Tess said, “she must be really good at faking it, ’cause, if you ask me, she doesn’t like it at all.”

  “Remember when you first came to the ranch?” Jake suggested.

  Tess nodded.

  “After a few days, you started to like it, didn’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  “But you didn’t let Tex or anybody else know that for a long time, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Tess shrugged. “I dunno.”

  “Maybe it was partly because you wanted to punish everybody for making you come in the first place,” Jake suggested.

  Her expression was puzzled. “So, Megan is kinda getting even with all of us?”

  “I doubt she realizes it, but yes, I think that is exactly what’s happening.” At least, he prayed it was. More than anything, he wanted Megan to wake up one of these days and realize that she was truly glad to be back in Wyoming.

  Glad to have him back in her life again…even if she was too stubborn to admit it to him.

  19

  Peter had actually bought a Stetson—a white one, yet—just as Todd had predicted. Megan couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of him as he stood in the doorway of the ranch house, all dressed up as some sort of west
ern hero right down to the tips of his fancy new snakeskin boots. Barely five-ten, a little flabby around his middle, he looked thoroughly uncomfortable and totally out of his fancy Upper East Side element. A suit could cover a lot of sins that an unforgiving pair of jeans could not.

  “Well, howdy,” she said, sensing that she’d better slip into a western role herself to keep him from feeling utterly foolish.

  Apparently she didn’t succeed in reassuring him. His expression fell. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

  She nodded her agreement. “A little over the top.”

  “Does that mean I can get out of these damned boots? They’re killing my feet.”

  “Gucci loafers in your luggage?” she inquired.

  “Right on top.”

  “Next to the Armani suit, no doubt.” She led him to a guest room. “When you’ve changed, come back downstairs. Todd and I are in the office working on preproduction notes. We’ll take a break when you get there, and you and I can work on some budget issues.”

  That faint flicker of disappointment returned to his eyes. Megan guessed that he’d hoped for a more personal welcome, something warmer than the peck on the cheek she’d given him.

  It was funny. After all these years, Peter Davis was still an enigma to her. He’d been recommended to her by friends the year she’d arrived in New York. His client list was a roster of Manhattan’s wealthiest individuals and fast-rising boutique corporations. He traveled in society circles, lending prestige to dinner parties and his name to charity balls.

  Yet there was a shy vulnerability about him, a hint that no one was more surprised by his success than he was. Megan had been touched and flattered by his attention at first, but when it became increasingly evident that his infatuation was turning into sentiments she couldn’t return, she had tried to cool the personal side of their relationship. Peter had continued to pursue her with dogged devotion, inviting her to dinner parties, theater openings and regular business lunches.

  What he needed in his life was a warm, generous woman who could make a real home for him, not one who only pretended to have those skills on TV and in the pages of a magazine.

  An image of Peggy came to mind, only to be hurriedly banished. Peggy was married to Johnny Barkley, for better or worse. She was definitely an unsuitable choice for a matchmaking scheme, which just went to prove that Megan was no better at that than she was at baking. How she had ended up in her chosen career was yet another enigma. Maybe she was trying to prove that anyone could overcome a dysfunctional background to achieve domestic bliss…at least on some superficial level. Heaven knew, her mother had rarely stepped into a kitchen, except when she’d been trying to make up for neglecting Megan. Then she’d baked cookies with a frenzy.