Anne had been dumbfounded. “Why would she do that? I never go to parties.”
“Maybe she thought you needed more fun in your life. I know she was worried about how hard you work,” he’d answered.
Without intending to, Anne had blurted out her worst fear. “A.J., was Mom disappointed in me? I know I wasn’t the typical daughter. No boyfriends, dates or proms to get excited about. Did she miss that?”
“Oh, honey,” he’d answered with a sad inflection. “None of that mattered to her. She just wanted you to be happy.”
Anne wasn’t sure she believed him. She and Esther had argued so much when Anne had lived here, butting heads the way mothers and teenage daughters often did. But Anne hadn’t understood then how exasperating her negative attitude must have been for her mother. Now Anne wondered how anyone could fail to love this place. She wondered if she’d made up her mind to hate Nevada, the Silver Rose and all things connected to ranching life before she moved here as a teenager, just out of spite.
Before hanging up, A.J. remarked about a postcard he’d sent from the Black Hills of South Dakota. “I was pretty impressed with the Crazy Horse monument,” he said. “I think Esther would have liked it, too. One of its slogans is— Never forget your dreams. Sounds like her, doesn’t it?”
As Anne reached for a tissue to blot her lipstick, she noticed the stack of mail that she’d forgotten to drop off in the office. Halfway down the pile was a glossy card. The photo showed a white marble statue that bore little resemblance to the crude carving emerging from the side of the mountain in the distance.
Flipping it over, she read A.J.’s shaky scrawl.
A lot of people called the fellow who started this crazy, but he didn’t listen to them. He had a vision that was all his own. Annie, your mother used to brag about your ability to see yourself as you were, not as everyone else thought you should be. When I looked at this mountain, I thought of you.
Anne dabbed at the moisture in the corners of her eyes. She started to set the card down but noticed a postscript winding around the outline of the rectangle.
P.S.: I bought you girls each a turtle necklace. To the Lakota, the turtle represents the heart of the soul, the keeper of life.
Anne pressed the card to her chest a moment then slipped it back into the pile. There’d be time to read it aloud tomorrow when Zoey added it to the map. That was a little ritual they’d come to enjoy.
Anne desperately wanted to believe that her mother was proud of her, but in the back of her mind, she recalled an argument they’d had over Anne’s refusal to attend her senior prom. “Why on earth would I attend some provincial mating ritual when I wouldn’t marry one of these local yokels if you paid me?” Anne had cried. Of course, at the time none of the local yokels had invited her to the dance, either.
Now, she was going to Will’s class reunion. What if tonight’s gala was prom with attitude?
“Anne,” Joy called from the first floor. “Will’s here.”
Anne and Zoey exchanged a look. Joy’s voice carried like a ringside announcer’s at the circus. Two subsequent door closings told Anne her Silver Rose guests would be waiting downstairs to see them off. Somehow, this date had become fodder for speculation—a real-life soap opera played out before their eyes.
Anne had tried her best to downplay the romance aspect. “We’re practically related,” she’d said more than once. “This is good PR for the ranch. You know, community awareness.”
Will, on the other hand, seemed to find the gossip amusing. Anne admired the way he handled their guests’ good-natured questions and comments, anything from, “Are you buying her flowers, Will? Women love flowers,” to “Cinderella needs a special carriage, Will, not a giant yellow pumpkin like your truck.”
Georgi, spokesperson for the Silver Leg-a-Cs—a female square-dancing troupe from Bakersfield—had warned Anne, “I’d wear steel-toed slippers if I were you, honey. Who knows if bull riders can dance?”
Anne pushed away from the mirror and stood up, her skirt swirling provocatively around her thighs. A pair of high-heeled sandals waited beside the bed. The shoes belonged to Linda. Anne would have preferred to wear pumps and hose, but Zoey had insisted Anne go bare-legged to display her Deliriously Delicious pink toenails, courtesy of Zoey’s nail polish.
“Pretty special toes, wouldn’t you say?” Anne asked, wiggling the colorful digits. While the pedicure might lack a professional edge, the hour of mother-daughter giggles had more than made up for any smudges.
Anne dropped a tube of lipstick into her purse—another loan from Linda—walked to the bed and slipped her feet into the sparkly heels.
She felt a bit wobbly. Although pumps were part of the dress code in her job, Anne had worn nothing but tennis shoes or flat sandals since she’d been at the Silver Rose. “So? Do you like it?”
Zoey rose to her knees, hands pressed together as if in prayer. “Mommy, you are f.l.a.w.l.e.s.s.”
Anne walked to the bed and pulled Zoey into her arms. “And you are p.u.r.f.e.c.t.”
Zoey shook her head. “No fair trying to trick me. That’s not how you spell perfect and you know it.”
Anne cupped Zoey’s chin. “Old habits. Sorry. I should have known you were too smart to fall for it. But we’ve really been lax about your studies this summer.”
Zoey made a face and tried to twist away, but Anne turned her daughter’s face toward the light. Was she a tad flushed or sunburned? “Did you wear your hat during your riding lesson today, hon?”
Zoey brushed Anne’s hand away and flopped onto her back. She frowned at the ceiling. “Of course. Will says a smart rider always prepares for the worst. In summer, the sun can give you heat prostitution.”
Anne pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. At dinner, two of the guests had been talking about Nevada’s whorehouses of old. Anne had noticed her daughter listening with rapt attention.
“I’m glad Will stresses safety,” Anne said. “But you look tired. Promise you’ll go to bed for Joy without any guff?”
“Yes.” The word held a measure of attitude, but Anne let it go. Now wasn’t the time to press the issue. Hopefully, once all the hoopla subsided, Zoey would settle down.
“Good. Then I won’t have to blister your bottom.” The very old and empty caveat was a favorite of Esther’s—and it had held as much threat with Anne as it did with Zoey.
Her daughter giggled impudently and scrambled off the bed. “I gotta go see if Will brought you flowers. On TV, a date always brings flowers.”
“This isn’t a date.” The disclaimer fell on empty space.
Who am I kidding? Anne thought, fetching her mother’s gossamer shawl from the closet. An awkwardness had developed between her and Will that told Anne they both knew this was more than a date.
She was attracted to him beyond reason. She wanted to rush downstairs on Zoey’s heels to see if he was as gorgeous as she knew he’d be. Giving in to those whims sounded both foolish and dangerous, and totally not Anne.
She took a deep breath and counted to five, willing her heart rate to return to normal. After tucking her cell phone into her purse, she picked up her key and started downstairs. The murmur of voices told her their departure had drawn a crowd.
As she descended into sight of the dozen or so people crowded into the foyer, a hush fell, followed by a flurry of whispers.
“Oh, my. She’s so beautiful.”
“Wouldn’t Esther be proud.”
Anne felt the sudden prick of tears. If only her mother were here. Esther would have loved every minute. Straightening her shoulders, Anne put on a fake smile then plunged ahead, calling upon her years of working with the public to accept the kind praise and good wishes with grace. She shook hands and returned hugs.
She was less than halfway across the foyer when a deep cough parted the throng. Her gaze fell on the most handsome cowboy she had ever seen. His charcoal-gray suit was a western cut that looked made for him. The collar of his pristine whi
te shirt was open and he wasn’t wearing a tie.
“Wow, Will,” she said, stepping closer. “Look at you.”
His boots were glossy, hair recently trimmed. His friendly grin showcased the smooth line of his freshly shaven jaw. The tanned crinkles at the corners of his eyes were evidence of his self-deprecating humor. “Didn’t expect me to clean up quite so good, huh?”
“No. I mean, yes. I…”
Everyone laughed at her flustered answer.
He stepped to her side and offered his elbow. “Shall we go, my dear?”
“He called her a dear,” Zoey said with a giggle.
Will looked at Zoey, who was standing beside Joy, and winked. “Good observation, Miss Z. Have fun with Joy.” He wrapped his fingers around Anne’s and nodded at the others. “Good night, y’all.”
Anne felt the congregation watch as they walked to the Forerunner. “I just love an audience, don’t you?” she said, grateful for his support—and warmth. Had the night turned cold or was it nerves?
“This is a piece of cake,” Will told her. “You should try landing flat on your face in front of ten thousand people. Then you’re expected to get up and wave like you’re not hurt, pissed off and feeling flatter than a cow pie.”
His scent—not cologne, but something else enticing—made her lean closer and sniff. “New soap?”
“It’s herbal. I found it at the grocery store when I went to buy rock salt for the ice-cream maker. Too strong?”
“No. Very nice. I like it.” I like you.
He opened the passenger door. Before she could sit down, he leaned over and picked up a clear plastic florist’s box. Inside sat a corsage of baby’s breath and delicate pink roses.
“Will, you shouldn’t have.”
“I debated over artificial but I liked these better. I didn’t bring them in because I knew Zoey would want to smell them.”
She opened the box, drawing the delicate creation to her nose. “That makes you the most thoughtful man I’ve ever known.”
He shrugged modestly. “Every once in a while I get lucky.”
Anne was glad for the dark, because his innocent phrase made her blush. Getting lucky generally implied spending time in bed together. Did she intend to take this date beyond a kiss good-night?
She considered the question. It could be argued that she was an adult. Single. She had needs. She cared about Will and trusted him to tell her if there was any reason, medically speaking, that they shouldn’t be together. But would such a union be wise? Anne had witnessed firsthand the devastation left behind by a workplace romance at WHC.
“May I?” he asked, plucking the corsage from its nest.
Anne dropped her purse on the seat. “Of course.”
Her skin felt hypersensitive as he tentatively slid two fingers under the material above her right breast. The whole process couldn’t have lasted more than six or seven seconds, but Anne was dizzy from holding her breath.
“You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way,” he said, dropping a soft kiss on the top of her shoulder. “I’ll be the envy of every man there.”
He took her elbow and helped her into the seat, then closed the door. Her hands were trembling as she secured her lap belt. Her heart fluttered as wildly as it had the day she had walked down the aisle. Was that a good thing or bad? She decided not to overanalyze the night or her feelings. Tonight, she’d try to simply enjoy the evening. She owed that to her mother.
The drive to town sped by thanks to a couple of upbeat tunes on the radio. Will introduced several possible topics of conversation, but Anne answered with nods and murmurs.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
She glanced sideways. “What gave me away? The wringing hands or beads of perspiration on my forehead?” She would have wiped her forehead but she didn’t want to risk messing up her artfully tousled curls, the result of two hours at the local beauty parlor.
His chuckle filled the space between them like a welcome friend. “Relax. I went to the ten-year reunion and it was a big improvement over high school. People weren’t hanging out in cliques, ready to stab each other in the back. We’re older and our flaws are a lot more obvious.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re the hometown boy done good. You’re famous.”
“Not very. Besides, I’d say success is relative. That’s another thing you understand when you get a few years on your odometer. Someone like Linda has more to show for her efforts than I do. Making a home for two kids, taking care of her sick mother, getting through a divorce without killing her no-good ex-husband—that’s pretty successful in my book.”
Anne was impressed—and surprised—by his words. Like his grandfather, Will kept his opinion to himself unless pressed for it. But his praise sounded heartfelt, and Anne had to admit, Barry would have dismissed Linda in one quick glance. Divorcée. Two kids. He might have agreed to lend her money if she’d asked, but he’d have run in the opposite direction if she needed emotional succor or a shoulder to cry on.
The car slowed. Anne leaned forward to scan the crowded parking lot. Linda’s SUV was parked near the front door. Good, Anne thought, at least there would be one friendly face in the crowd. Anne had met a few other women at organizational meetings and several more that morning when she’d dropped off the hay bales the Silver Rose had donated for decorations. But Anne wasn’t part of their crowd. She never had been.
She took a deep breath and collected her nerve as Will got out and walked around the vehicle to open her door. “Watch your step,” he said, taking her hand. “Potholes from last winter. We don’t want to mess up that Deliriously Delicious pink polish.”
His teasing took her mind off what was coming. “My daughter told you? It was supposed to be our little secret.”
He closed his hand protectively over hers. “I’d like to say I had to torture it out of her, but frankly, Anne, your daughter blabs. Never entrust her with state secrets, okay?”
“I’ll remember that. But the road runs two ways, you know. Zoey and Tressa couldn’t wait to tell me about someone named Reba, who apparently is a ‘mean little ball-buster.’ Fortunately, they hadn’t figured out what that term meant.”
Will let out a hoot. “Holy c— I really do have to watch my mouth. For the record, Riva—short for Arriva Dirt-shay—is a red bull with a spotted white face. He’s gentle as a lamb outside the arena— I’ve actually seen kids feed him by hand—but open the chute and he turns on the retro-rockets.”
“I assumed as much,” she said honestly, but she didn’t mention how much her initial twinge of jealousy had unnerved her.
When they resumed walking, he went on to explain, “A lot of bulls do a Jekyll and Hyde number. It’s like they understand they’re performers hired to put on a show. But you never want to forget that even the gentlest bull in the pen can kill you if you’re not paying attention.”
Before Anne could ask for more details, a loud voice pierced the night. “Anne and Will. ’Bout time. Sheesh. I was ready to send out Search and Rescue.”
Linda stood in the doorway, beckoning them to hurry. Backlit by the bright yellow glow from inside the ugly but functional metal-sided hall, she resembled the Statue of Liberty—a flashlight in one hand and clipboard pressed to her chest. “Hurry up, you two. We’re doing the program before dinner, remember?”
“Sorry,” Anne said. “My pedicure took longer than I anticipated.”
Linda looked down. “Zoey?”
Anne nodded.
Linda slipped her foot out of her shoe and wiggled her toes. “Tressa. Does this mean they’re going to be cosmetologists when they grow up?”
Will shook his head. “Not a chance. They’re planning to take over the Silver Rose and convert it into a girls’ school where you only have to study for two hours a day and the rest of the time you ride horses.”
Linda rolled her eyes. “Thank goodness A.J. plans to sell it this fall. I don’t think the seven dollars in my daughter’s piggy bank will get
them far.”
Anne felt Will’s sharp look and regretted telling Linda about one of A.J.’s more melancholy postcards. He had sounded resigned to making a fresh start somewhere else, like Wyoming or Montana.
The thought of A.J. selling out broke Anne’s heart, which was why she’d brought up the subject with Linda. She couldn’t picture the Silver Rose Guest Ranch without A.J. Or vice versa.
“Come on,” Linda said, tugging Anne across the threshold. “I had Pam save us a table.”
Anne didn’t know anyone named Pam. Please don’t let it be someone Will dated, she silently prayed. She couldn’t even think about how relieved she’d been to learn from Joy that her daughter, Judy— Will’s old prom date—wasn’t coming from Alaska to attend the event.
Two glasses of wine later, Anne was finally starting to relax. The music seemed to transport everyone to a time when they were more candid, optimistic and outgoing, although the eighties had been just the opposite for Anne. Her father’s death, living with her dour, repressed grandparents in Maine, then moving across the country with her newly remarried mother had left Anne mixed up and angry. She honestly couldn’t blame any of these friendly people for not recognizing her. She’d been a mouse hiding in the library or scurrying to class, doing her best to avoid being caught in a social situation.
Will handled every introduction with finesse. He seemed to remember everybody’s name even without benefit of name tags. “This is Anne Fraser,” he said time and again. “You might not remember her because she was a year behind us in school. Anne is Esther’s daughter, and we’re running the Silver Rose this summer for Gramps.”
It struck her as curious that he let people draw their own conclusions about their living arrangements. He also seemed determined to stake a claim, giving no one else a chance to ask her to dance—not that she wanted a different partner. Will was a wonderful dancer. And fun. He kept her too busy laughing to feel self-conscious.
A Cowboy Summer (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 16