“You must be very glad I’m here,” the girl stated. “Or you would be the only girl.”
“I am very glad you’re here.” Aurora ignored the men’s conversation with Les, who looked as if he was about to pull up a chair and join them for breakfast. They were discussing the weather and fishing season. Fascinating, as usual. Tony, busy unbuttoning his shirt, hummed a little song.
“I’m thinking about staying for a while,” Winter said.
“Really?”
She nodded. “I don’t think I have a lot of other options.”
“How old are you?”
“I’ll be twelve in July.”
“And why are you thinking about staying in Willing?”
“Well, I have decided it’s time I took charge of my own life.”
Jake stopped listening to the fishing speculation and stared at his daughter. “What?”
“I don’t want to be on a road trip. I don’t want to live in Nashville,” she said.
Aurora shrugged. “Who does?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I do. I have an apartment—”
“And you said you’re never there,” Winter cut in. “So who’s going to take care of me? I have my own money. I should be able to do what I want.”
“That’s a very interesting theory,” her father drawled. “But you’re a minor. And you’re stuck with me until you’re eighteen.”
“I barely know you.” She sniffled, and Aurora couldn’t help herself. She put an arm around her and hugged her to her side.
“You’ve had a tough time lately,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay.” Winter sat up and composed herself. “I just want my own bed. And my own room. Without Star Wars.”
“You can have those in Nash—” He stopped at the look Aurora gave him.
“What kind of bed do you want?” Aurora asked as Shelly returned to the table with a tray of drinks.
“Something fluffy. Blue. Light blue. With lots of pillows.”
Aurora took a sip of coffee, but it was almost cold. “You’d better get busy, Dad. Get thee to a Target.”
“The waitress wants to know what you would like for breakfast,” Jake said, softening his voice.
“I’m going to have a scone, please, and scrambled eggs. And bacon.”
“Aurora? Anything else for you?”
“Just a little more coffee,” she said.
The men ordered their breakfasts, Les said goodbye and Sam told Tony to put his shirt back on.
“I’m a wrestler,” he said, protesting. “They don’t wear shirts.”
“They do,” Aurora said, “when they’re in restaurants.” She’d been around Lucia’s children enough to know that they paid attention to adults and rarely had temper tantrums. At least not in public. And, of course, she had that soft spot for Tony, whose big brown eyes showed every emotion in his heart.
“Man, I wish now that we hadn’t torn up the house,” Sam said. “We could easily put beds in the rooms upstairs, though. Give me three or four days and you’ll be perfectly comfortable.”
“No,” Jake said. “You’re in the middle of a construction project. Heck, half the time you won’t have water. And you’re replacing the electricity, too, right?”
“Well—”
“Jake,” Winter said, “we can stay at the bed-and-breakfast place.” She turned to Aurora. “It used to be a bordello and it’s very historic.”
“Oh, it’s definitely historic.” She took another swallow of cold coffee. “You should go see it. It’s like something out of the Old West.”
“Like in the movies?”
“Absolutely.” Iris had done it up in velvet and silks, with dark overstuffed furniture and all sorts of Victorian accents. It was a little claustrophobic for Aurora’s taste, but the tourists loved it. Some of the women from the television filming had stayed there, and it had been a favorite place for Tracy, the producer, to film romantic dates.
“You’re going to hate it,” Sam murmured to his brother.
“I’ve stayed in a lot of strange places.”
“Not like this, I’ll bet.” He grinned. “Unless you have a wilder life as a musician than I thought.”
“I get food poisoning,” Jake said. “More times than I can count. Other than that, it’s just a lot of late nights and a lot of highways.”
“There you go,” Sam said, “writing another song. ‘Late Nights and Highways.’ Has a certain country appeal, right?”
“Yeah, automatic hit, all right. You ever actually catch any fish on that show of yours?”
Aurora watched the two men joke around together. Tony, stuck between them, watched for Shelly to return with his meal. Winter tapped Aurora’s arm.
“They’re funny,” she said, but she wasn’t smiling.
“They are,” she agreed.
“Matty said that Sam told his mom he had a bad childhood.”
“You’d never know it to look at them.” And what defined a “bad childhood?” If Jake was anything at all like Sam, then he was a pretty solid man who could be trusted. Owen liked Sam, which meant a lot. Meg thought he walked on water, and Meg was finicky. Even Lucia’s mother-in-law had given her approval, and that hadn’t come easily.
“I think we should stay here,” the girl said. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. I imagine that depends on your father.” Shelly arrived with a tray piled high with plates of food and set them out in front of them. Aurora shifted her coffee and moved her empty plate to give them more room.
“He’s not really my father,” she said.
“I don’t—”
“I just met him,” she continued. “He doesn’t know me. And I don’t like him.”
Aurora stopped what she was doing and studied the child. She didn’t know much about children, but that seemed like a very odd thing to say. Jake might not be perfect father material, but he seemed likable enough. “You don’t?”
Winter shook her head. “I might like him someday. But at the moment I’m undecided.”
“He seems okay” was the only thing Aurora could think to say. “He seems to be trying hard to be a good father.”
The girl shrugged. “I might go back to Lady Pettigrew’s, if I have proof of having had counseling and have no lasting psychological problems.”
“Would you like to go back to England?” Somehow she’d thought the girl was enjoying seeing this part of the world. But maybe she missed her friends. She was at that age where friends mattered.
She shrugged. “Perhaps. Or not really. I haven’t decided.”
Aurora doubted if Winter would be the one doing the deciding, but she kept quiet.
“Aurora?”
“Yes?”
“Have you lived here forever?”
“No.”
Winter waited for more of an explanation, so Aurora continued.
“I...came here a few years ago and decided I would stay.”
“Why?”
She realized that Sam and Jake looked at her as she contemplated the answer to that question. She’d given the usual responses before, almost three years ago now, when people asked. I wanted to get out of the rat race seemed to be a favorite. Another lie, I used to visit my grandparents out here when I was a kid, was easily accepted. I saw Willing in a magazine only confused the person asking the question, because no one could remember Willing ever being in a magazine.
“Well,” Aurora said, looking into those clear blue eyes and knowing she couldn’t lie. It wasn’t fair to lie to this new little friend. “Just like you, I had a broken heart. And this seemed as good a place as any to wait it out.”
“Did it work?” This came from Jake, who seemed almost desperate for a positive answer. So des
perate she felt sorry for him.
“It did,” she said. Until now, she wanted to add. When she was so frustrated she wanted to kick gravel in the parking lot and curse the political system. When she wanted to corner Hank in his garage and then yell at Mike while he cowered behind his desk at the newspaper.
“And where were you before?” asked Winter.
“Back east. With my parents. And then I traveled,” she said. “Just like your father.”
“Did you sleep in your car and sing in bars?”
“No,” Aurora said, trying not to laugh. “But then again, I wasn’t a star.”
* * *
JAKE QUICKLY LEARNED that Iris recently renamed the B-and-B More Than Willing to play up the building’s original use. She also sold Welcome to Willing T-shirts and a map featuring the various locations of the Willing to Wed dates, “soon to be aired on national television.”
Winter wanted a map and a T-shirt, plus the Blue Lace Room with its blue satin-covered queen-sized bed and matching lace-trimmed pillowcases. Jake took the Red Room, despite its slightly raunchy decorations, because it was next to Winter’s and had a connecting door that Iris unlocked for their convenience.
His daughter also bought a postcard featuring the town center and a marble statue of a bull that had something to do with the ranching history of the area. She said she couldn’t wait to send it to her friend Robbie, who would be so jealous.
Winter had certainly perked up. One minute she was feisty and independent, and five minutes later she would look so sad and lost. He had a hard time adjusting.
“You can stay for ten days,” Iris said. She was a tall, no-nonsense woman of about forty, with curly dark hair and green eyes. She was slender in her jeans, pink slippers and a faded sweatshirt that had “Just Married” scrawled across the front in silver lettering. “But then I’m all booked up for the start of the show. That’s the last Monday night in April. Put it on your calendar. Some of the Californians are coming back for the party.”
“Thanks.” Jake gave her a credit card and signed the guest register.
“I’ve heard you’re a musician, so if you want to practice you can use the living room. The place is empty now except for you, so feel free.”
“I won’t be—”
“I serve breakfast between seven and nine, but if you have a specific time you want, just let me know. Write it down on a Post-it note and stick it here on the counter.”
“Thank you, we’ll—”
“I have a ten p.m. quiet zone policy, so if you’re out late partying at the Dahl, be quiet when you come in. Except for Thursdays, which is karaoke night, and I’m out late. I suspect you’ll be there, anyway, so don’t worry about making noise when you come in. I’ll tell you if we have any guests, but I don’t have any reservations, not yet, and you’ll probably know someone’s around as soon as I do.” She looked at Winter. “No rap music. No hip-hop. Unless you’re using earbuds, and even then, well, that stuff is atrocious.”
“I agree,” Winter said solemnly. “Do you have the internet?”
“Sure do. Wireless, of course. The password is gopanthers. That’s the high school basketball team.”
“Go Panthers,” Winter repeated.
“No caps.”
“No caps,” Jake repeated. “Got it.”
Iris rang up a receipt and handed it to him. “Will you be singing at the Dahl? Aurora usually has a band on Saturday nights.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t have my band with me right now.”
“Too bad. We could sure use a change of pace.” She hesitated. “Karaoke on Thursdays. Don’t suppose you’d be interested in that, either?”
Jake chuckled. “Man, I haven’t done that in years.”
“Say no,” his daughter said, as if she would die of embarrassment at the thought of her father singing karaoke in front of a bar filled with people.
Iris answered for him. “Never mind, honey,” she said to Winter. “Your dad would just make all of us amateurs look bad.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jake said, smiling. “I’ve been to some pretty good karaoke bars. You might have a star hidden right here in town.”
Iris laughed. “I think you’re the only one we’ve got, Jake.”
CHAPTER SIX
“YOU DID WHAT?”
“I closed it,” Aurora declared, not without some pride in her voice. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the Dahl and admired the sign she’d made for the door of her bar. Thick black letters on a piece of white cardboard stated the simple truth.
Closed Until Further Notice.
“And I mean it,” Aurora added. “I’m going to be busy with the demolition. And I’m going to do some renovating inside the bar. I hadn’t intended to close it down, but...well...I don’t like what’s being done.”
Lucia studied the sign and then turned to her friend. “I just heard about the meeting from Shelly, who heard about it from Les. This is going to cause quite a commotion once people see this. Can you survive financially for a few weeks? Do you know what you’re doing?”
“I absolutely do.” She’d walked home from the café this morning and she’d fumed the entire time. She’d stood on the sidewalk and eyed the shack that was once the Chili Dawg. Surely no one could come up with a reason for that eyesore to remain. The cracks in the windows had been covered with duct tape and the C and D on the sign were faded so much they weren’t even there.
The Dahl looked much better, but it needed a new window and a fresh coat of paint. She’d thought of installing a new sign, too, one with more old-fashioned lettering. But that was before three men told her what she could and couldn’t do.
“I want my addition,” she added. “And there’s no reason for them to deny me my right to build onto the Dahl.”
“You’re declaring war,” Lucia said.
“I didn’t fire the first shot. The town council did.”
Lucia sighed. “I can’t believe Jerry let it happen.”
“He told me to be nice, to talk the men into it.” She put her hands on her hips and smiled as she studied her sign once again. “I think I’ll let this do the talking.”
Lucia laughed.
“Do you want to come up for coffee?” Aurora had never invited anyone into her living quarters upstairs. She entertained in the bar and preferred it that way. She found herself holding her breath, half afraid Lucia would accept and yet nervous that she’d say no.
“I can’t. I’m walking to the school to meet the boys.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. But ask me again, okay?”
“Okay.”
Lucia tilted her head. “How long are you going to be closed?”
“Until I get my building permit,” she said. And then she added, “They hurt my feelings.”
To her surprise, Lucia gave her a quick hug. “They’re idiots. The Dahl is not just a bar, it’s a meeting place. What’s going to happen to karaoke night and the TV watching parties for the show? I’ll bet they didn’t think that far ahead.”
Aurora blinked back tears. “I still have plenty of work to do. They can’t stop me from tearing down the hot dog shack.”
Lucia looked at the building again. “I’ll come over with my sledgehammer. Just say the word.”
The thought of tiny Lucia Swallow swinging a sledgehammer made Aurora smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a crew coming from Billings. Demolition is their specialty.”
“Good.” She started to walk away, but hesitated. “Are you free for dinner Saturday night? You know, now that you’re not working?”
Aurora didn’t know what to say. She’d kept her socializing to the bar and to town events. She’d only recently become more friendly with Meg and Lucia, two friends who’d met in culinary school and who’d known
each other through lots of hard times. It was the bad times that showed you who your friends were. Unfortunately Aurora had had the bad times, and got through to the other side, but her profession back then had left little time for friends. She’d had her music, her teachers and her husband. And when the smoke cleared, she’d been alone. But now she thought that Meg and Lucia would be the kind of people who would be there for her, no matter what. She was doing her best to learn how all of this girlfriend business worked.
“All right,” she said. Maybe closing the bar was going to have more positive results than she’d imagined. “I’d love to. What can I bring?”
“I have no idea what I’m cooking, but bring a bottle of wine. It’ll be casual. Meg and Owen get back on Friday, so hopefully they can come and we can talk about how great the wedding was.”
“The wedding was great,” Aurora said, remembering dancing with Jake. “Your future brother-in-law practically swept me onto the dance floor.”
“He’s a charmer.” Lucia grinned. “You two looked good together.”
“No matchmaking,” Aurora said. “We’ve had enough of that around here.”
“He’s probably not your type, anyway.” Lucia started walking toward the school, which was on the other side of the grocery store, past the parking lot and the ball field that backed into the alley.
“My type?” Oh, yeah, she’d said she had a type. Hmm. She wondered what that might be. “Very funny.”
Lucia waved, leaving Aurora to contemplate the fate of her business and what kind of man her friend pictured her with. She opened the door to the bar and locked it behind her.
“It’s just you and me now,” she said to the grizzly mounted on its wooden base in the corner of the room. “If we get lonely I’ll turn on the karaoke machine and we’ll sing.”
* * *
“I’M NOT TRYING to fix anyone up,” Lucia told the men standing in her kitchen. Sam handed Jake a beer and opened another for himself. “I’m not,” she insisted, stirring something in a big pot. “I just thought it would be nice to welcome Meg and Owen home, and since Aurora’s not working—”
“You’re a romantic at heart,” he said.
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