“Where’s Lucia’s ex?”
“She’s a widow.”
“Ah. So the boys really need a father. How do you do it?”
“It’s easy,” Sam said, his expression serious. “I just think of what our father would do or say, and then I do the opposite.”
Jake thought about that for a long moment. “So, no drunken rages. No beatings. No showing off at political fund-raisers?”
“You got it.”
He nodded slowly. “I keep telling myself I’m not like him.”
Sam snorted. “You’re not. Neither one of us is.”
“Another reason to celebrate.”
* * *
“THIS IS REALLY bad timing,” Jerry muttered, slumping over the latest budget reports stacked on the table near the back of the Willing Café, otherwise known as “Meg’s.” If he’d had working brain cells this morning, he would have wondered if Meg was going to keep working at the café or move out to the ranch to start making babies with her new husband. “My head is killing me,” he grumbled. “I probably should have changed the meeting to next week.”
“Isn’t that against the law?” Les fiddled with his own copies of the budget and the meeting’s agenda, not that he would have read them. Jerry lifted his aching head and frowned at the kid. If his grandfather hadn’t gotten sick, Les wouldn’t have been on the council. He didn’t have a political bone in his body and, as an ex-rodeo participant, had little knowledge of business.
“No,” he said, not trying to hide his impatience. “It’s not against the law, not if everyone is notified ahead of time and the new date is published in the paper.”
“Oh.”
“Unless we don’t get a quorum.” He saw Les’s mouth open and hurried to explain, “That’s the minimum number of council members we need to have a meeting.”
“I know what a quorum is,” the other man said indignantly. “I was going to ask how many we need.”
“Four out of six,” Jerry said, moving his papers aside so that Shelly could deliver his coffee and a carafe. He had high hopes for the caffeine cure. “Owen’s not going to be here, because of his honeymoon. And Pete partied just as long as I did last night.”
Les smiled at Shelly. “Good morning,” he said to her. “That was sure fun yesterday.”
“Yes,” she said, giving him a shy smile. “It was.”
“I’m glad we got to dance.”
She blushed. “Me, too.”
Jerry sighed. He wished the two would just go ahead and get married. Or at least start dating. Les was crazy about the girl and she needed a husband. Her baby needed a father. Everyone in town could see it was inevitable that the two of them got together and frankly, Jerry found all this unrequited love business exhausting to watch.
“The party at the ranch ended around seven,” Jerry said for no other reason than to break the two apart. He took several sips of the hot coffee. “But some of us went back to my house for a while.”
“Oh.” Les looked over toward the door. “Here comes Mike.”
“Great.” Mike was known for his quick treasury reports, something they all appreciated. Jerry thumbed through the stack of papers in front of him. He hadn’t forgotten about the regularly scheduled council meeting. But he had forgotten that Aurora’s ambiguous building permits were on today’s agenda. He did not look forward to that particular subject. Telling Aurora she didn’t have the space to build whatever it was she wanted to build was a lesson in futility. And quite possibly dangerous.
“And Gary just drove up.”
“That’s three.”
“That leaves Hank and Pete.”
Jerry looked at his phone. No one was officially late yet. He drank more of his coffee and thought about ordering pancakes. His head throbbed and his eyes felt as if they’d been rubbed with sandpaper.
“Shelly?”
She turned back. “Yes?”
“Could I get some blueberry pancakes, with a side of bacon?”
“Sure.” She scribbled something on her order pad. “Do you want juice?”
“No, thanks.” He’d stick with coffee. And ice water, too. He would take another aspirin.
He rarely drank more than two drinks, but perhaps the combination of champagne, dancing, celebrating and the scotch back at his house had given him one heck of a headache. He was tired, too. Maybe he’d spend the rest of the day at his desk, and then take a nap.
Or was he too young to take naps?
“Man, I hope they hurry up,” Les was saying. “I’ve got to get over to Owen’s and get the place cleaned up.”
“By yourself?”
“No, Hip’s gonna come with me. Shelly said she’d come out later and help, if she can borrow Loralee’s car.”
Jerry watched Aurora enter the room and head in their direction. “Brace yourself.”
“Yeah,” the kid said. “She looks like she’s ready for a fight.”
“She always looks like that,” he reminded Les as Mike joined them at the table.
“We’re not fighting about something?” Les eyed the papers in front of him on the table. “She wants a building permit? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“It depends,” Jerry muttered. “On what she wants to build. And how much room she needs to build it.” Was she going to raise the roof? That might be legal, if she retained the historic nature of the building. He had no idea how Aurora felt about the historic nature of anything, though. For all he knew she planned to top the building with a deck, hot tub and a neon sign that said Free Beer.
Aurora, dressed in black leggings, tall tan boots, a denim shirt and a khaki fishing vest, approached the table. She eased gracefully into a chair at the head of the table, hung a massive purse over the back of her chair and placed a leather document folder in front of her. “Good morning.” She looked at her watch and then to Jerry. “What’s the matter with you? You look worse than usual.”
“I think I’m getting a sinus infection.”
“Well, please breathe in the other direction,” she said. She greeted Les and Mike. “I saw Gary in the parking lot. Where’s the rest of your illustrious council?”
“Owen’s on his honeymoon.” He made a show of studying her. “What happened to last night’s glow of wedding happiness?”
“Glow of wedding happiness? Lovely. Are you writing poetry now? Are we going to have cowboy poetry parties like they do in Lewistown?” She opened her folder and unclipped a pen.
“I’m not stealing Lewistown’s cowboy poetry gathering,” he muttered, although he’d thought about it at one time. They got a lot of mileage out of that annual August event but, he thought, no television coverage. At least not national.
He eyed Aurora with some trepidation. Last night he’d thought she was simply mellow from wedding happiness. He’d never seen her look so relaxed. In fact, she’d even smiled a couple of times. Pete said he’d tried to film her with his new phone, so he could put it on YouTube: Aurora Jones in a Good Mood.
Shelly appeared with more coffee cups and a carafe, which she set down in front of Aurora and Mike. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Just a little cream,” Aurora said. “Thank you.”
“Sure.” She hesitated. “Al made cinnamon scones this morning. He said to tell you the recipe you gave him worked.”
Jerry almost fell off his chair. Aurora exchanging recipes with the café’s grumpy cook? The pain in his head stopped him from even thinking about making a joke. If he laughed he might have a stroke.
“I’m glad,” Aurora said. “It’s a secret recipe from the Highlands, from a castle there. The chef was kind enough to share—”
“You were in a castle?” This was from Les, who looked as confused as Jerry felt. “In Scotland?”
“You kn
ow what a recipe is?” Jerry couldn’t help himself. Mike cleared his throat in warning. Aurora glared at the three of them as Shelly scurried back to the kitchen.
“You may find this hard to believe,” Aurora said to them, “but people have been known to actually have had a life outside Willing.”
“Go figure.” Les helped himself to more coffee. “I like it right here.”
“Me, too,” Mike said. “I did an article once about the connection between Scotland and the original ranching ventures in Montana. There’s a lot of historic—”
“Here’s Gary. And Hank,” Jerry announced. He didn’t want Mike to launch into the MacGregor ranching history this morning. There were times when he found it fascinating, but this morning he only wanted this meeting to be over quickly. “And the school bus just pulled up, so Pete’s coming.”
“Excellent,” Aurora said. “Call the meeting to order, Mayor, and let’s get down to business.”
He didn’t like the glint in her eyes, but as soon as the other members of the council settled themselves at the table, Jerry did as he was told.
* * *
AURORA WAITED ENDLESS minutes for the men to read the minutes of the last meeting—sidewalk repair, potholes, the possible locations for watch parties when Willing to Wed began next month—and went over the budget report. She paid little attention to their figures and instead looked at her own proposal for the fiftieth time.
She expected no trouble. Hank was a gifted mechanic and owned his own garage, so he understood what it was like to run a business. A widower in his midfifties, he spent one evening a week at the Dahl, usually on karaoke night. He only drank one beer and was always a gentleman.
Pete Lyons, on the other hand, drove a school bus and liked to party once in a while. He was in his thirties and had been a hit with the women on the show. Lucia had spent a lot of time on his wardrobe, because Pete was a work-in-progress as far as grooming went. Today he wore a perfectly respectable black hoodie and jeans, but Aurora knew that he and Jerry were buddies. If Jerry found a way to oppose her building plan, then Pete would be on the mayor’s side.
But he was only one vote.
Gary Peterson, retired, divorced and immersed in his daughters’ and granddaughters’ lives, shouldn’t be a problem. Les would vote yes, because his butt wasn’t planted on a bar stool six nights a week. Not since he was saving his money for a future with Shelly, anyway.
Mike, newly engaged and having emerged as a somewhat geeky romantic figure during filming, finished his budget report and waited for comments. Jerry, shoveling pancakes into his mouth, didn’t have much to say.
“My turn,” Aurora declared.
“New business,” Jerry said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Is there any new business?”
“Of course there is,” Hank said. “Look at the agenda.”
“I have to officially call for new business,” Jerry explained, turning to Aurora. “You want something?”
Hank looked at his watch. “I’ve got three transmissions backed up, plus a couple of axles that need a miracle. Can we move this along?”
“Of course, Hank,” Aurora said. “As you know, I purchased the vacant lot next to the Dahl last month.”
“From Jerry,” Les added.
“Yes,” she said. “He finally decided to sell a practically worthless lot for an exorbitant amount of money.”
“You got a bargain. You beat me down,” the mayor conceded. “It was easier to sell you a parking lot than it was to keep hearing you complain.”
“Whatever,” she said, hiding a smile. He’d made a decent profit on that lot, she knew, and had no reason to complain about the sale. “Now we need to discuss zoning. And a building permit.”
“You can’t build on that lot,” Jerry said, rubbing his temples. “You know that. We’ve been over and over it. We’re not moving water lines—”
“Yes, I know that,” she agreed, pulling a neatly folded set of building plans from her folder. “I realize now that zoning is no longer an issue. Would you move your breakfast, please?”
The men hurried to clear a space in the middle of the table.
“I’m applying for a building permit to expand the Dahl.”
“Expand how?” This was from Mike who, as the owner and sole reporter for his family newspaper, was always on the lookout for a story.
“With an additional party room, a patio and an outdoor pizza oven.”
“Wait a minute,” Jerry said. “You can’t build on that lot—”
“It will stay a parking area,” she assured him.
“But where—”
“I recently bought Chili Dawg,” she announced. “That solves my zoning issue. That building will be torn down, thank goodness, as it’s an eyesore, and you know it, and my addition will take up that space.”
“I don’t get it,” Les said.
“The Dahl is a historic building,” Jerry sputtered. “You can’t go changing it. It’s a symbol of the West, of our history!”
“It’s pretty cool the way it is,” Pete added. “I mean, the Dahl has always been the Dahl, you know?”
“I’m not changing the bar itself,” she assured them, deciding it was not a good time to tell them about removing the smelly paneling behind the pool table area. “The front of the building will get a new coat of paint, maybe a new awning. And definitely a new window. But the women in this town need a place where they can have a glass of wine or an evening out without feeling as if they’re back in the Wild West.”
“A wine bar,” Gary said, frowning. “You’re putting in a wine bar?”
“Well,” she conceded, “maybe.”
“And a patio,” Hank said. “A patio in Willing?”
“They have patios in bars all over the world,” she assured him. “And men actually use them.”
“I’m gonna miss Chili Dawg,” Gary said. “I eat there all the time.”
“Then it’s a wonder you haven’t died,” Aurora told him.
Jerry frowned. “Chili Dawg isn’t historic?”
“On what planet?” was her response. “It’s a nineteen-eighties shack.”
He didn’t argue, but there were comments from the others.
“Man, this isn’t good news.”
“Where’s old Harve gonna go?”
“Who’s gonna make the pizza?”
“Are men allowed in?”
“Will you have hot dogs?”
“What exactly is a wine bar?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the Dahl the way it is. Women do go in there,” Jerry said.
“Rarely,” Aurora said. “Because there’s no other place.”
“You’ve had parties,” he insisted. “Meg’s wedding shower, remember? The place was filled with women.”
“It doesn’t have the atmosphere I want,” she said. “I really don’t understand what the problem is. I’m expanding my business. It’s my right.”
Jerry sighed. He was probably just upset he hadn’t thought of it first. But the questions from the others continued.
“You’re not going to take the TV away, are you?”
“What about the pool tables?”
Aurora tapped her index finger on the plans. “See for yourself. I’m keeping the historic integrity of the building, but I’m adding an area that is more feminine. It can be reserved for private parties.” She looked at Jerry. “For wedding-related activities. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted? To attract women to Willing?”
She had him there, she knew.
“Not at the expense of history,” he said, his attention diverted by his phone. “Give me a second here.”
“You’re reading a text?”
He held up a hand and stood. “I’ll be right back.” With that, Jerry a
nd his phone left the building.
“Well?” Aurora eyed the town council. “I’ve followed the law. You’ve seen the plans. And you can’t possibly object, because this will improve Main Street.”
This declaration was met with silence.
“It will look better,” she said, then lowered her voice in a Mafialike imitation. “The grizzly is safe with me.”
“Some things are sacred,” Hank said, surprising her. “This is, uh, pretty fast. Maybe we ought to give this more thought.”
“I need to have it done for the summer, before tourist season.” She looked over her shoulder to see Jerry walking slowly across the room. He looked as if he’d been given bad news. He took his seat and cleared his throat.
“Where were we?” he said.
“My building permit,” she prompted. “To improve Main Street. To upgrade the look of downtown. To attract customers. To attract female customers.”
“To change the Dahl,” Mike muttered. “That’s not right.”
Gary nodded. “I agree.”
“Yeah,” Hank said. “I’m attached to that place. I’d hate to see its, uh, personality altered.”
“That’s three votes no?” Jerry looked surprised.
“I vote yes,” Les said. “If we’re voting.”
“Yes,” Pete said. “I guess I can’t see what’s wrong with having more women at the Dahl.” He looked at the plans again. “Or next to the Dahl. Whatever.”
Jerry’s phone beeped again, and he twitched. Yet he didn’t look at the screen. “I think we need to postpone any official vote.”
“Postpone?” Aurora stared at him in amazement. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Well,” he drawled, not meeting her gaze.
She wanted to grab his phone and toss it into his coffee cup. She couldn’t believe he would propose delaying her permit, not after all of the hard work and planning she’d put into this project.
“Considering the circumstances,” Jerry said, “all those in favor of tabling this issue until next month’s meeting say aye.”
They said aye.
“Aye?” Aurora repeated. “Really? Aye?”
Jerry stared at his council members. “This has turned out to be a really bad day.”
The Husband Show Page 7