The Husband Show

by Kristine Rolofson

  Aurora frowned at him. “You think?”

  * * *

  WINTER SLEPT IN a bed made up of Spider-Man sheets and a faded old Star Wars blanket. When she woke, she didn’t know where she was and had to think about it for a long minute. Montana, she remembered. A small town. She looked around the tiny room and saw a hundred little action figures and stacks of books. A chest of drawers was covered with rocks, its drawers open to reveal jumbles of clothes.

  She was staying with her uncle’s girlfriend, who had three boys.

  Three boys who weren’t really her cousins, no matter what anyone said.

  And she had a father who wasn’t really a father, no matter what anyone said about that, either.

  Seriously, this was weird. One day she’d been at Lady Pettigrew’s and the next thing she knew, her mother was dead and Mr. Tate, the family solicitor, was explaining how her life was going to change. Then there’d been that semiviolent scene in the parlor with Pippa, the most irritating girl in her class who had made terribly rude remarks about her mother dying. And Winter had thrown a fit—a massive, screaming, hysterical fit— and had been removed from school before the term was over.

  And now she was trapped with an American father she’d never even known about.

  No wonder she was having abandonment issues. Lady Pettigrew’s headmistress had recommended counseling. That didn’t sound like fun. Was she supposed to talk about her mother, a beautiful woman she rarely saw? Was she supposed to complain about her father, a man who practically lived out of his car?

  Was she supposed to be sad? And if so, how sad? Would a counselor tell her how she was supposed to feel?

  If so, that would be a relief.

  * * *

  “YOU’RE GOING TO love this place,” Sam told him. He turned to Winter. “What do you want for breakfast? Pancakes? French toast? Bacon?”

  Winter shrugged. “I quite enjoy bangers.”

  “Sausages?” Sam’s smile remained undiminished. “I’m sure Meg’s has them, too.”

  “Meg was the bride,” she said. “Correct?”

  “Right.” Jake didn’t care what emotional issues his daughter had; he was growing tired of the British accent. “This is convenient,” he added, noting it was a short walk to the café. Just one block up and two blocks over. He wasn’t much of a cook, which was another thing that concerned him when it came to fatherhood. He was supposed to provide nutritious meals and on schedule, too.

  He’d never been good at schedules.

  Tony, Lucia’s youngest boy, held Sam’s hand and bounced along with a cheerful expression. Lucia had elected to stay home and “get things done,” whatever that meant.

  Jake hadn’t slept well. His life was a mess and had been a mess for a long time. He’d sung his songs and traveled the country and done what he could to make a living.

  And he’d made a pretty good living.

  But he was a father now. Was he supposed to take Winter along on tours? No way. That was no life for an eleven-year-old girl. He needed to find a school for her. She was used to boarding schools and seemed to like the one she’d gone to in England. He’d Googled a couple online that were possibilities for the fall. But what was he supposed to do in the meantime?

  “This is the center of the town’s social life,” Sam was saying. “Jerry took me here for breakfast the day after I arrived. I wasn’t used to walking in snow and ice.” He chuckled. “I was so cold all I could think of was getting out of here and going someplace warm.”

  “Back to the jungle?” Winter asked. “Is that where you wanted to go?”

  “I didn’t care,” his brother explained. “I just wanted to be warm.”

  “But you didn’t go,” Tony announced, bouncing a little as he walked beside his future stepfather. “You stayed!”

  “I sure did,” Sam agreed. “And I’m real happy that I did.” He looked at Jake and smiled. “You might feel that way, too, you know.”

  The restaurant looked like a hundred others he’d seen, one level on a main road through town, an oversize gravel parking lot ringed with motel cabins. These cabins looked well cared for, though. As if its owner actually rented them out and made a profit.

  “Maybe I—we—could stay here for a couple of days,” Jake said. “Or are they only open in the summer?”

  “I can ask,” Sam replied. “Meg’s out of town, but someone will know.”

  “They appear to be incredibly small,” Winter said. “I’d prefer my own room.”

  “Well, I’m sure you would, Lady Mary,” he told his daughter. “But there’s not a lot to choose from around here.”

  To his amazement, Winter giggled.

  “We’ll stop at the B-and-B on the way home,” his brother said. “Iris might have something now that the wedding is over.” He opened the heavy glass door and ushered them inside.

  Jake smelled coffee. And bacon. And everything else good to eat. They’d walked into a large room lined with windows and booths, its center filled with small tables and chairs. On the opposite wall was a counter and stools, and beyond that, Jake assumed, was the kitchen. The place was noisy and warm, the kind of place you wouldn’t mind having breakfast in every morning. There were three elderly men at the counter who swiveled to see who had just arrived and whose faces lit up when they saw Sam.

  Jake’s brother had found a place here in this town. Jake followed him across the room and he and Winter were introduced to the three seniors who took a great interest in him and his daughter.

  “I saw you out at the ranch,” one of them said. “I’m John Ferguson. My wife and I didn’t stay for the dancing, so I didn’t get a chance to meet you. Glad you’re here. How long are you two staying?”

  “Not long,” he heard himself admit.

  “You’re a singer,” another man, George Oster, said. “You gonna sing about Willing?”

  Jake grinned. “You never know.”

  “Well, if you sing at the Dahl some night, I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We have a real nice school,” sharp-eyed Martin Smith said to Winter. “Have you seen it yet?”

  Winter shook her head. “I’m finished for the term.”

  The old man’s gaze sharpened. “I heard you lived in Paris or somewhere like that.”

  “My mother resided in Paris,” she explained. “But I attended Lady Pettigrew’s, in London. Until I had a fit and was expelled.”

  Jake closed his eyes briefly and prayed for patience. Winter was brutally frank and seemed to have no problem announcing her so-called issues to anyone who’d listen.

  “Expelled, huh?” He shrugged. “Well, you tell your father to take you over to the school and get you enrolled there. We’re not London,” he said, giving her a wink, “and one little fit isn’t gonna get you kicked out.”

  “That’s good to know,” Winter said, sounding relieved. “I’m thinking about staying here for a while. And I suppose if I did stay I’d have to enroll in school.”

  “You sure would,” Mr. Smith agreed. “Tell your father here to get himself organized.”

  “I will,” she said. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to have breakfast now.”

  “See you tomorrow,” the man said, swiveling back to his coffee. “Let me know how it all works out.”

  “I’m in over my head,” Jake muttered to his brother.

  “Your daughter has a mind of her own,” Sam agreed. They watched Winter and Tony cross the room to study the rotating display of pie and cake slices. “Is there any reason why you can’t stay here?”

  “Work,” he said. “I found a replacement for the summer tour that was scheduled, but I still have a lot to do in the studio. And then there are some charity concerts I’m not sure how to handle.”

  “Your fans won
’t be disappointed?”

  “The kid who’s replacing me is a bigger name whose record just hit number two, a surprise for a lot of people in the business. It’ll work out fine.”

  “All right. Leave Winter here, with us, while you’re away. You know she’ll be fine, and Lucia would love it.”

  “That would be the easy way out,” Jake said, not that he hadn’t thought of it himself. “I took the easy way out when Merry wanted a quickie divorce. I didn’t even ask her why she was in such a hurry, because I was so relieved to be out of it.” He watched Winter take Tony’s hand before he could disappear behind the counter where a thin, blonde teenager fiddled with a coffeemaker. “She needs a father. And I’m all she’s got.”

  “She also has an aunt and uncle,” Sam reminded him. “Don’t forget that.”

  “I can’t take the easy way out this time,” he said. “You and Lucia have three boys and a wedding and a honeymoon coming up. Another child, especially one like Winter, adds a whole lot of extra baggage.”

  “We don’t mind,” his brother said. “We talked about it this morning, before you were up. Lucia’s worried about the girl.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “So am I.”

  “And I’m worried about you, too,” Sam added. “I think you should stick around here. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “I need to make a home for my daughter, Sam.”

  “Looks like you need to make a home for yourself, too. You’ve got family here. Don’t run from it.”

  “I’m not running,” Jake insisted, looking at Sam’s worried expression. “I’m going home, to make a life for my kid.”

  “Make it here,” Sam repeated. “Give us a chance to be a family.” He shot Jake a sheepish smile. “Hey, there’s a first time for everything.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “MEETING ADJOURNED,” Jerry croaked. “All those in favor?”

  They were all in favor. Everyone but Les fled from the restaurant. Jerry had never seen Gary move so fast, while Mike looked as guilty as someone who’d just been caught robbing a bank. Hank muttered something about brake oil while Pete mumbled, “Sorry” and fled. Les took one look at Aurora’s murderous expression, grabbed his coffee mug and headed to the safety of a counter stool. Jerry wanted to do the same thing, but he sat frozen in place.

  “You can’t do this,” Aurora said.

  “I didn’t do it.” He rubbed his face with his hands. How fast can I get to L.A.?

  “You’re the mayor. You’re supposed to be in charge.”

  “Jeez, Aurora.” He actually felt faint. “I’m not king.”

  “It’s illegal. I’m calling my lawyer.”

  “Your permit wasn’t denied.” There was a midafternoon flight out of Billings. He’d taken that before, but maybe there was something earlier? Was there? He pulled out his phone and saw the latest text from Tracy.

  Long distance doesn’t work, she’d typed. He ignored the stabbing pain in his head and called up Travelocity. “Your permit was delayed,” he said, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop the coming explosion.

  “There was no reason...”

  He looked up. Aurora Jones was a beautiful woman, in her own way. She wore expensive clothes and stocked a bar with the finest liquor. She paid her bills on time and donated generously to every school fund-raiser. But she was also cold, unapproachable and self-sufficient to a fault. She didn’t make friends easily and she didn’t inspire loyalty. Jerry assumed she was a decent person, but he didn’t want to invite her over for dinner or anything like that.

  “They’re afraid,” Jerry said. “Give them time.”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “And you don’t have a building permit, either.” He went back to his phone. Could he make the one-fifteen flight? Sure he could. If he left right now. He ignored the choking sounds coming from the head of the table and booked the earlier flight.

  “Aurora,” he said finally, having secured the reservation and the chance to convince his future wife not to dump him. “Would you like some advice?”

  She glared at him.

  “Advice,” she repeated softly, sending a chill down his spine. “Of course, Mayor. I would certainly appreciate any advice you’d care to bestow upon one of your loyal constituents.”

  He decided to take the high road and ignore that snarky remark.

  “Schmooze them,” he said. “Go to each man and listen to what he has to say. Show him the plans again. Make him understand this is not going to hurt the Dahl in any way, shape or form.”

  “Isn’t that your job?”

  “Not today,” he said. “And not this week.” Jerry gathered his papers together and stood. Aurora Jones needed patience. And tact. He wondered how on earth she would get them.

  * * *

  “MAY WE JOIN YOU?”

  Aurora looked up to see that the request came from Jake Hove’s odd little daughter. The girl stood politely next to the booth where Aurora was sampling Al’s cinnamon scone and sipping a cup of Kona coffee that the cook had brewed especially for her.

  Aurora was attempting to calm down. She’d wanted to stomp out of the café right after the idiots had voted, but she hadn’t wanted to hurt Al’s feelings.

  “Of course,” Aurora replied, sounding as pleasant as she could manage as she scooted over toward the window to make room for Winter. “Would you like a scone?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Her anger dissipated as Aurora felt the almost overwhelming desire to wrap this girl in her arms and promise her that everything would work out, that she would be okay. The child looked lost and alone, but so brave. Keep being brave, she wanted to tell her. You need to be brave.

  Winter slid into the booth and unzipped her hoodie before her father and uncle caught up with her. Tony clung to Sam’s hand and grinned. That little boy would grow up to be a colossal flirt. Aurora smiled back at him. After all, she liked children. Until they grew up to be politicians.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said as they stopped awkwardly at the booth.

  “Good morning. Winter,” Jake said, “what are you doing?”

  “I’m going to have a scone with Aurora,” she said primly. Aurora met Jake’s gaze and shrugged.

  “You’re all welcome to join me,” she said, hiding the fact that she was flustered. She preferred to eat in the privacy of her own home. She should have taken Al’s scone with her and eaten it there, at her little table, with her jasmine tea in her favorite oversize mug, except that she’d appear to be unappreciative of his effort to create the perfect Scottish scone for her.

  Did Al know Gary or Mike or Hank very well? Could he put in a good word for her?

  And Sam was popular, despite having only lived here a few months. Had he done any male bonding while eating breakfast at the café every morning? It was a thought.

  To her surprise, the men and the little boy squeezed into the opposite side of the booth as if it was no big deal. Men were social creatures in the morning, she decided. The café was filled with the proof.

  “What are you up to this morning?” Sam looked content with the world as he reached over for the menus tucked behind the napkin dispenser. He handed one to Jake and one to Winter.

  “I had business with the town council,” she said.

  “And did you get what you wanted?” This was from Jake, who seemed to have no qualms about making small talk.

  “I did not,” she replied, keeping her voice even. “Not yet.”

  Jake looked surprised. “Should I ask what happened or would you rather talk about the weather?”

  “Nice day,” she said. “But it might rain tomorrow. Where’s Lucia?”

  “Taking advantage of a quiet house,” Sam said, waving at Shelly. “Meg’s wedding wore her
out.”

  Jake grinned. “When’s yours?”

  “Whenever she says it is,” his brother replied. “The sooner the better. You can be the best man.”

  “Okay, folks,” Shelly said, skidding to a stop at the end of the booth. “What’ll it be?”

  “I’d like a cup of tea,” Winter said. “Please. And a scone.”

  “Me, too,” chirped Tony.

  “He’ll have milk and pancakes,” Sam said.

  “And a mushy egg,” the child added.

  “One mushy egg coming up,” Shelly said, jotting it down. She blushed when she looked at Jake. “I heard you. And your band. One time. At the rodeo in Boise.”

  “I hope you liked the show.” Jake closed his menu.

  “Oh, I did,” she said. “We did. My friends and I did. You sang that song about the summer wine and the hill with the flowers and how you remembered that time when you were young.”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s one of my favorites.”

  She kept blushing and staring at Jake until Aurora decided to put the girl out of her misery. “Shelly,” she said. “Honey, would you bring Jake and Sam some coffee? They look like they could use it.”

  “I’ll be right back,” the girl promised, and rushed off.

  Winter stared across the table at her father. “What was that all about?”

  “Get used to it,” Sam said, chuckling. “Your father’s a star.”

  “What’s that mean?” Tony sprinkled pepper on his napkin and sneezed.

  “That’s disgusting,” Winter told the little boy. “Put the pepper back.”

  “It means,” Jake said, removing the pepper and the napkin, “that people like my music.”

  “Huh.” His daughter didn’t look convinced.

  Aurora watched the proceedings and thought of her tiny kitchen table and flowered tea mug. Shelly raced back with the coffee and seemed to be more in control of herself. Les, lurking at the counter, waved.

  Sam waved politely back, and the young man interpreted that as an invitation and came over to say hello.

  “We’re surrounded,” Aurora told Winter.