When Trent had come home from his trip to Helena she’d even felt bold enough to see if he’d reconsider volunteering, as well. The committee hadn’t dared put him on the list of potentials. But she’d decided it couldn’t hurt to ask.
He’d stared as if she was from another planet. Don’t be ridiculous. I told you it wasn’t going to happen. I’ll make my usual donation and that’s it.
Alaina hadn’t pressed the point. Trent did plenty of hush-hush stuff to help people, so she couldn’t argue that he needed to support Schuyler with more than his money, the way she had with Mike. You’re still going to the barbecue, aren’t you?
Yes.
As with family gatherings, he generally attended community affairs, though she knew he didn’t enjoy them. Trent simply felt he should go, so that’s what he did.
Alaina had never understood her brother. He was protective and had faithfully shown up for her special days, including flying to California for her college graduation. He listened if she had a problem. But that strange distance between them remained.
“I’m afraid I had an ulterior motive in asking you to lunch,” Alaina admitted while they ate the Roundup’s special of the day—bacon burgers with a heap of fresh coleslaw.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I’m on the Firefighters Auxiliary. We raise money to support our volunteer firefighters.”
Emily wiped a drip of barbecue sauce from her chin. “I think all firefighters are terrific, but it’s even more incredible when someone is doing it without being paid. How can I help?”
“Every summer we have a bachelor and bachelorette auction—the winner gets taken out to dinner by the person they bid on. This year we’re combining our annual barbecue with the auction. You’re on my list to recruit as a bachelorette.”
From Emily’s panicked expression, Alaina realized she’d hit a nerve.
Before she could say anything, Emily let out a forced laugh. “Sorry, it wouldn’t work. I’m not the right type to pull it off.”
“I wouldn’t dream of pushing, but I can’t help wondering why?” Then Alaina remembered Emily’s engagement had ended only earlier that year. “Ohmigosh, I should have remembered your stupid fiancé and realized you wouldn’t be interested.”
Emily made a face. “It’s more than that. Dennis and I were engaged for five years. His sister was the one who finally told me what was happening. I felt like an idiot. I mean, unless there’s a special reason, who waits that long to get married or at least move in together? But there was always an excuse and I just accepted it.”
“Um...it sounds as if he was never faithful.”
“Dennis doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He even thought I should be grateful he wanted to marry me, no matter how many times he’d cheated.”
A flash of anger went through Alaina on behalf of her friend. “You’ve mentioned that he’s hung up on glamour, but most guys get past that stage. It’s childish for them to expect to marry someone like Cindy Crawford or Gisele Bündchen. Besides, I bet some supermodels aren’t that glamorous when they don’t have a makeup artist in their skinny-jeans back pocket.”
Emily’s nose wrinkled. “Actually, Dennis doesn’t want to marry a glamour princess—she might expect too much from him. He enjoys the idea of being married and having someone to keep everything running smoothly in his life, but he gets bored easily and thinks fidelity is for other people. Basically, he wants a bread-and-butter wife who won’t object if he samples jam from lots of pretty jars.”
Alaina frowned. “I understand how having a supermodel sister must have been hard on the ego, but why are you still letting anyone else influence how you see yourself?”
“You didn’t grow up being compared to someone like Nicole. There’s nothing wrong with how I look, but there’s nothing particularly special about me, either. I’m used to it.”
“I may not be a guy, but I think you’re special. And just so you know, the committee was thrilled to put you on the list of potential recruits.”
“That’s nice, but I’d hate getting up on a platform and waiting for guys to bid on me. All my insecurities would attack.”
“I understand.” Alaina winced, remembering how she’d goaded Mike into volunteering. But surely it wasn’t the same with him. He’d always been supremely confident, practically to the point of arrogance, and now was acting like a bad-tempered hermit. She felt bad about his accident, but he’d played in the majors for a decade, which was a whole lot more than most people got. She ought to point that out the next time he was being an ass.
“I’d be glad to do something else,” Emily said. “Have you thought of having a silent auction for donated items? It would be fun, particularly for people who aren’t bidding on a date.”
“We’ve talked about it, but nobody has time to solicit donations.”
Brightening, Emily leaned forward. “I’ll do it if you don’t mind that I’m not on the committee.”
“You’re just as busy as everyone else and now you’ve got a horse.”
Emily laughed. “Stella Luna won’t be at Jackson’s ranch until next week. I’ll make some calls and twist arms if that’s what you want.”
“Just a minute.” Grabbing her cell, Alaina phoned the chair of the steering committee, who was delighted with the turn of events. Punching the off button, she beamed across the table. “Congratulations, you’re now an honorary member and can start twisting arms.”
“Great. Just this morning I was thinking I needed a new project.”
Alaina gave her friend a droll look. “Right, as if a skittish horse, two businesses, major house renovations and dealing with my cantankerous brother weren’t enough of a challenge.”
For some reason Emily’s face suddenly looked strained, but Alaina decided not to question it.
* * *
INSTEAD OF GOING straight home, Emily began visiting local businesses. Within three hours she’d gotten donation pledges for everything from a cowboy hat to a free haircut. Then she dropped into several restaurants who donated gift certificates for meals. In particular, the unmarried business owners and managers seemed so relieved she wasn’t trying to recruit them for the auction, they were eager to be generous.
It was a good beginning and she finally headed back to Wild Rose Cottage. Yet her adrenaline ebbed when she walked through the front door.
After the conversation with Alaina, she’d tried not to think about what Dennis had done and how it was tied up with how Trent made her feel. Now it returned.
Emily was sick of her ex-fiancé’s memory hanging around like a ghost. He didn’t deserve it.
She eyed the left side of the living room. At some point a flimsy wall had been erected to make an extra bedroom, or maybe an office. But it was awkward because it blocked the windows on that side and simply didn’t fit. Removing it was in the contract, but it wasn’t a weight-bearing wall, so maybe she could knock the thing out herself.
Of course, she ought to be contacting more of the folks she’d gotten to know through the Chamber of Commerce. The donation pledges she’d already received were nice, but they were only a start.
Nonetheless, the temptation to hit something with a sledgehammer was too much to resist.
Mindful of Trent’s insistence about safety, Emily put on a hard hat and safety glasses from the cache of tools the guys left at the end of each workday. The sledgehammer weighed a ton, but she hefted it over her shoulder and started whacking.
With each blow she shoved out some of her lingering rage at Dennis and how he’d treated her. His tone had been so patronizing when he’d said that of course he cared for her, but it was unreasonable to expect him to resist genuine beauty.
Pieces of wood and plaster flew.
After a couple of hours, the wall lay in pieces.
Sticking her chin up, she
smiled. Okay, so she wasn’t a raving beauty, but she deserved better. A lot better.
Trent was probably going to throw a fit about the wall, but he’d have to lump it.
* * *
THE WORST OF the stomach flu had passed by Friday evening, leaving Trent exasperated. Getting sick had forced him to miss one of his best opportunities to search for his father’s handgun.
But maybe he could still make it work.
He dialed Emily’s number and was glad when she answered instead of getting voice mail.
“It’s Trent,” he said.
“Hey, are you doing better?”
“Much better, that’s why I’m calling. I’m concerned we didn’t make any progress this week. If it won’t interfere with your schedule, I want to put in some time tomorrow.”
“It won’t bother me, but surely you want the weekend to recuperate.”
As if he could relax with Wild Rose Cottage looming over his head like an ax hanging on a thread.
“If I’m not working there, I’ll be doing other work at Big Sky, and I’d rather get something accomplished on your house.”
“In that case, I’ll see you in the morning. The usual time?”
Trent agreed and at 7:00 a.m. sharp, he was at her door. He stepped into the living room and dropped his toolbox with a bang. The wall behind the door was gone. Emily must have knocked the damn thing out—she’d even removed the debris. It didn’t matter since it postdated his childhood, but what if she’d dismantled the walls upstairs? He instinctively turned to go up and check, only to see Emily staring at him with a rebellious expression.
She stuck her chin in the air. “Yeah, I took it down.”
“You shouldn’t have,” he said tightly. “It’s our job and we know how to do it safely.”
“It was therapy. I got to thinking about the way my fiancé treated me and how we broke up. It made me angry so I took it out on the wall.”
Trent bit back an ironic laugh. He could have told her that he’d been trying to work off anger for years, without noticeable success.
“All the same,” he returned carefully, “I’ll be more comfortable if you don’t do this sort of thing again. You could have got hurt and no one would have been here to help.”
“I wore a hard hat and safety glasses.”
Frustrated, he spun and headed for the kitchen. It would make her suspicious if he lunged upstairs the way he wanted to. Anyway, she surely would have mentioned finding a gun. So now his problem was finagling a way to go after it himself before she did any more personal demolition.
Thinking furiously, he worked on the glass-and-stone-tile backsplash Emily had chosen, wondering if he could ask her to pick up supplies or something. Simply going upstairs wouldn’t do any good; she’d just follow to help or watch.
Then in the midst of his turmoil, the specifics of what she’d said suddenly hit his consciousness...that she’d had a fiancé who had treated her badly. Generally there were two sides to any story, but curiously, Trent didn’t question whether she was accurately remembering past events. As a rule he figured women were skewed in the way they saw things.
In the background he heard the old landline phone ring. A minute later Emily came into the kitchen.
“I need to go down to the Emporium,” she explained. “The flu has hit my staff, as well.”
Trent couldn’t believe his luck. It was unfortunate someone was ill, but now he’d get the time alone that he needed.
“That’s too bad,” he told her. “I’ll take care of things here.”
She paused and he hoped she wouldn’t suggest he leave as well, then shrugged and smiled. “See you later, then.”
As soon as Trent saw her car drive out of sight, he dropped everything and headed upstairs.
* * *
NORMALLY EMILY WOULDN’T have driven to the Emporium, but Trudy had been terribly upset about getting sick.
“I’m sorry,” the teenager wailed as she came through the door. “I felt great an hour ago.”
Emily smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it.”
Trudy gagged and ran for the stockroom where there was a small bathroom for the staff.
The bell on the door tinkled as a couple came inside.
“Hi,” Emily said. “Before you come any farther, let me warn you that one of my staff just came down with the flu. You might not want to get exposed.”
“Stomach?” the man asked. When Emily nodded, he and his wife exchanged glances. “We just got over it. Imagine having intestinal flu while camping in a tent and having to use a campground restroom.”
Emily groaned in sympathy. “That sounds terrible.”
“It was hideous,” the woman agreed. “As soon as we got better, we tossed everything in the SUV and went to a motel.
Is it okay if we look around? We heard about your store and want to salvage something from our vacation.”
“Be my guest.”
Back in the stockroom Trudy was sitting on a chair, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Jimmy will be here soon,” Emily told her. “He’s thrilled to get extra work hours. Is your mom coming to pick you up?”
“She got sick last night. I’ll walk.”
“Nonsense, I’ll take you.”
Jim Jenkins arrived a few minutes later, so Emily got the teenager home as quickly as possible before heading back to Meadowlark Lane. She’d hated leaving. There was something so odd about the way Trent had acted...or maybe it was the lingering weirdness in the house. The sense of waiting or anticipation was still present, no matter how hard she’d tried to dismiss it.
Parking in the driveway, she hurried inside, but Trent wasn’t in the kitchen. Instead, loud bangs were coming from the second floor.
What?
She climbed the front staircase and peeked through the door of the room she’d decided to expand into a master bedroom. Trent was pounding on the wall with a ferocity that easily outstripped the energy she’d put into the one in the living room.
The air whooshed from her lungs.
It was the wall that had always given her an odd feeling. Honestly, if she’d known it wasn’t load bearing, she would have already taken a sledgehammer to it. Why was he doing it in her absence? Weeks ago she’d told him she wanted to be there when it was removed.
He seemed angry and in a terrible hurry, pausing to grope through the debris after each crash brought chunks down. Finally a piece of wall came off in a large section. He seized something from the ground. For a moment he stared at the object before wrapping it in a cloth and shoving it into his pocket.
Shaken, Emily turned and tiptoed down the stairs and out of the house. Needing time to think, she drove to the county park on the edge of town.
She was certain the mysterious object had been a handgun, even though it had been wrapped in plastic. The shape was distinctive and she’d gotten a clear look. Moreover, Trent had been looking for it. There was no doubt about that.
What the hell was going on?
* * *
AN ENORMOUS WEIGHT had rolled from Trent when he’d tucked his father’s gun out of sight. There were probably other troublesome items still hidden in the house, but the worst of his worries had been addressed.
Glancing at the rubble on the floor, he wasn’t sure what he’d say if Emily asked about it. She had been clear about wanting to be there when the wall was demolished—something to do with her feelings about the place and how it “spoke to her.”
It was ridiculous, yet he couldn’t deny that something had been different about this particular wall.
He went to one of the front windows and checked for Emily’s car. It was unlikely she’d be back soon; she was probably covering the Emporium for her sick sales clerk. If she asked, he would have to say he’
d forgotten that she wanted to be there. Lying was distasteful, but the truth was ugly, as well.
After locking the gun in his office safe, he went home for the first good night’s sleep he’d had since the work on Meadowlark Lane had started.
* * *
ON MONDAY MORNING, Trent waited for Emily to tackle him about the wall, but she seemed normal, offering him a cup of coffee and pointing at a box of pastries on the rickety card table in the living room. Maybe she hadn’t been upstairs to see it. When the crew finished their coffee, Emily went to help Eduardo work on the pipes under the laundry room.
Caveman came to him an hour later. “Hey, boss,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about the hallway chandelier that broke apart when we took it down. It might be possible to find a vintage light online.”
“We already installed a new one.”
“I know, but Em is awful nice and she’s helped out so much, it seems as if we could find something she’d like better.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay, boss, just a thought. She said something the other day and I know she’s disappointed. We’re willing to install it on our own time.”
As soon as he had an opportunity, Trent took Emily into the yard where they couldn’t be overheard.
“I need to discuss something with you,” he said stiffly.
“Yeah?”
“If you want extra work or items that aren’t in the contract, you need to check with me, not my crew.”
Her eyes opened wide. “What do mean?”
“Caveman told me you want a different chandelier in the hallway.”
Emily crossed her arms over her stomach in a gesture that was becoming all too familiar. “I mentioned the modern light fixture doesn’t fit the vintage atmosphere, that’s all. Exactly what are you accusing me of?”
Trent took a deep breath. “In my experience customers act nice, expecting a little extra to come out of it.”
Her eyes sparked angrily. “That’s your problem? Being nice is suspicious?”
“You aren’t that naive. People do it all the time.”
At Wild Rose Cottage Page 15