He shrugged. “Stand your ground, girlie. You’ve got a right to do business, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“Thank you, Mr. Oster. I appreciate that.”
“Too much government,” he grumbled. “That’s the problem everywhere.”
Meg handed him a flyer and winked at Aurora. “There you go, George. Maybe Mrs. Oster would like to see what’s happening in town.”
“She don’t get out much,” he said. “But she wants to know if that singer fella is going to perform anywhere around here. She’s got a couple of his CDs and says she’s waiting for him to do a show. Is he going to do a show? That’d sure make her happy.”
“That’s a good question,” Meg said. “I’ll find out.”
“You can ask him yourself,” Aurora said, feeling the tiniest bit of happiness. “He just walked in with Winter.”
George waved him over and Jake shook hands with the man and greeted Aurora and Meg. Winter looked pale and unhappy, though she perked up when she saw Aurora.
“I called you,” she said to Aurora. “But you didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry. What’s up?”
Jake explained, “I had intended to take Winter shopping for riding gear this morning, but Sam needs help. The lumber is being delivered and the construction guys have been delayed by a couple of days. He’s going to need some help unloading the trucks.”
“We’re going riding on Thursday,” Winter said. “Because school gets out early. It’s Easter break.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Meg said. “Lucia mentioned something about the boys coming out to the ranch. Great!” She smiled at Winter. “I’m glad you’re getting to ride.”
“I’m going to take lots of pictures.” She held up her phone. “My friends in London will be so jealous.”
“Not everyone gets to go horseback riding on a Montana ranch,” Aurora agreed. “Unless they pay to stay on a guest ranch.”
“Have you ever done that?”
“Uh, no,” she said. “I’ve never actually wanted to ride a horse.” Broken bones would have ruined her career. Her parents had protected her from any possibility of damaging her hands, arms and shoulders. Thank goodness. “So, what’s the problem?”
“We’re going tomorrow,” Winter grumbled. “But tomorrow Lucia can’t go with us.”
Aurora wondered where this was leading. “That’s too bad.”
“I hate to ask you,” Jake said, flashing her a smile. “But is there any chance you could go with us tomorrow? Winter refuses to shop with me unless there’s another female around.”
“He doesn’t know what I need,” the girl said, looking at Meg. “Maybe Mr. MacGregor could give me a list.”
“I don’t think you need a list,” Meg said. “Just jeans and boots with heels. A sweatshirt. Owen has riding hats he bought for the boys. One of those would be a very good thing to have.”
“We’ll buy you a special riding hat as well,” she assured the child. Aurora looked at Jake, who stood behind his daughter and eyed the coffee. “Are you going to have breakfast?”
“Yes,” Winter answered. “We came to ask you to go shopping with us, and if you weren’t available, we were going to ask you which stores to go to.”
“I know them by heart,” Aurora declared. “Sit down next to me and we’ll make a plan.”
“You can have my seat,” George Oster told Jake. “I’m heading home to take the wife to Billings to see her sister.” He looked at Winter. “Are you in school yet, young lady?”
“There’s only three and a half weeks left. It simply isn’t worth it.”
“Well,” the old man said, slamming his hat on his head, “I guess there’s always next year.”
“If I’m still here.”
“Well, that goes without sayin’.” He said his goodbyes and limped out the door.
Winter settled herself on the stool and waited for her father to do the same. “Will you go with us?”
“Sure,” she heard herself say. “I’m on vacation right now.”
Winter beamed. “I knew you’d say yes.”
Aurora made the mistake of looking at Jake, who seemed happy that he was off the hook as far as shopping was concerned. He grinned at her. “I owe you,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. “I expect lunch. And ice cream.”
“That’s all? I could take you out to dinner, too.”
Winter frowned suspiciously at her father. “Are you asking her out on a date?”
“I just might be,” he said, looking somewhat surprised but pleased with the idea. His gaze met Aurora’s as if daring her to accept.
“You can repay me in some other way,” Aurora said quickly. Why on earth would he think she was going to go out with him? Had she given him the wrong impression?
“All right,” the man answered, plucking a menu from its metal holder. “Let me buy you breakfast, then.”
“That I accept.” There, that was better. She ran her hands on her thighs and wished he didn’t make her nervous.
“Aurora?” Winter asked.
“Hmm?”
“You said we’d make a plan.”
“Sure.” She pulled her thoughts away from the past and concentrated on the serious child who waited for her attention. “You will pick me up at nine o’clock. By nine-forty we’ll be parked in front of store number one.”
“Excellent,” the girl said. “And you don’t have to worry about money.” She took the menu her father offered her. “I have my own credit card.”
“Which you are not using,” her father said.
“My lawyer—”
“Stop it,” he said, and his daughter closed her mouth. Aurora was impressed. The teasing father was gone and in his place was a man who meant what he said. He looked at Aurora. “We’ve had this discussion before,” he explained, before turning his gaze back to his silent child. “I can and will take care of you.”
Winter gulped and looked very guilty but didn’t say anything. Jake sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. “Really, hon. It’s going to be all right.”
Aurora blinked back tears of her own and picked up her coffee. “I certainly hope you mean that, Jake, because your daughter’s boots are not going to be cheap. And do you have any idea what jeans cost?”
Winter giggled and Jake shot her a grateful look.
“We’ll stop at an ATM on our way to town,” he promised. “I’ll clean out an account.”
Winter took a deep breath. “I feel like French toast this morning. With bangers.”
“Excellent choice,” Meg said, returning to the counter with Aurora’s omelet just in time to hear her. “What about you, Jake?”
“The number three, scrambled,” he said. He had a deep voice, with a sweet roughness that would translate into an interesting vocal quality. She would order his music on Amazon this afternoon and hear it for herself. Just out of curiosity, of course.
This wasn’t good, she thought, reaching for the salt and pepper. She’d always been attracted to musicians, from the skinny Jean Benoit in the junior orchestra to a lanky bassist at Juilliard and then there were several crushes on very unavailable cellists. She loved the cello. Almost as much as she loved the violin.
And, of course, there was Sean. With no musical talent except an exceptional understanding of how to manage those whose world consisted only in music, he’d given her his heart and he’d turned her into an international star.
For a while.
She ate her breakfast and listened to Winter chat with her father about the difference between riding English and riding Western. Apparently she’d researched the subject and had memorized the information. Aurora was saved from having to participate when Jake’s attention was diverted by the arrival o
f the drummer from Wild Judith, the local band that often played at the bar. He stopped to say hello to Aurora and introduce himself to Jake.
Jake asked about local jams and Adam—at least that’s what she thought his name was—told him about open mike nights in Lewistown and Billings. That led to a discussion about songwriting, a class in Great Falls that Adam hadn’t liked, how hard it was to get gigs and the possibility of getting some guys together to play some night.
“Maybe at the Dahl,” Adam said, looking at Aurora. “Are you still closed?”
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
His face fell. “Oh. Bummer. I was hopin’ we could get Jake to play with us.”
“Is there somewhere else we can jam?” This was from Jake, who ignored his daughter’s groans. “Maybe Iris will let us.”
“No way,” Winter said. “She’s not giving up her TV.”
“Sam’s house is torn up,” Jake said. “How many people are we talking about?”
“I could get about ten or twelve, easy,” Adam said. “More, even.”
“Where do you practice now?”
“The bass guitarist has a barn we use in the summer. It’s still too cold. Harve used to let us use Chili Dawg in the winter, but it was pretty small. Especially for the drums.”
“Chili Dawg?” Jake turned to Aurora. “Is that a possibility?”
“It’s being torn down. The power’s shut off and so is the water.”
“Bummer,” Adam said once again.
“Come to the Dahl on Thursday night,” Aurora said. “You can jam all you want.” Because Jerry would be back. And there would be no karaoke, no musical entertainment in downtown Willing for the public to enjoy. She’d bet a lot of people would be calling their town councilmen to complain.
What a lovely thought.
“It will be a private gathering,” she continued. “You’ll have to come in the back.”
Adam grinned and Jake looked excited.
“That’d be good,” he said. “I’ve been going crazy wanting to play.”
Winter rolled her eyes. “He practices all the time, but he doesn’t sing. He just talks to himself and writes stuff down in an old notebook.”
“That’s called ‘writing songs,’” Jake said, laughing. “That’s how it works, hon.”
He was handsome, charming and liked to laugh. He was also a man. A man who played a guitar and lived mostly on the road. Even if she liked him, she would keep her distance. Because even a little flirtation could lead to something more, and Aurora had learned a long time ago that it was easier, safer and smarter to be alone.
* * *
TIME WAS RUNNING out. He had to either head to Nashville or find a place to live. Iris wished she could let him keep his rooms, but she was booked up starting next Wednesday.
The television show was about to air, and the excitement in the town had already begun. It was all anyone talked about. The guy who owned the newspaper was the only man who got engaged during the show, though Sam had heard there were other romances that were still moving along. So every edition of the Willing paper was filled with Willing to Wed news of some sort. Romantic recipes contributed by Lucia, decorating tips by Iris, beauty advice by the local hairdresser and a countdown to The Big Day.
Cora Crewe, the fiancée and soon-to-be reality television star, wrote a weekly article about antiques. She was about to open a shop on Main Street, Lucia told him. He spent his days helping Sam with his house. The man was determined to get the place under control before he and Lucia set a date for the wedding. Jake wondered why it mattered. Just marry the woman and get on with it, but Sam wanted the house ready. It didn’t have to be completely finished, he’d told his older brother, but he wanted the master bedroom done.
With three little boys running around, Jake agreed that a private bedroom was an important part of a honeymoon.
And he was glad to help. They’d gutted the entire downstairs. The concrete had been poured, the lumber delivered and the crew to begin the center addition was coming Monday. Sam had an electrician putting in a new system and a plumber installing new pipes for the kitchen and bathrooms, but he and Sam were framing the kitchen themselves. Jake knew that Sam could have hired someone to do it, but he suspected his brother wanted to push the project along faster. And it was as good an excuse as any to spend time together.
“Spend the summer,” his brother suggested. “Better here than in Tennessee.”
“I’ve thought about it,” Jake said. He’d thought about it as he drove Winter and Aurora south to Lewistown. He’d thought about it when he checked out the local music store and read the flyers on the bulletin board. Keyboard player wanted for country-rock band. Spring concert to benefit the Arts Council on May 3. Open Mike Night every Wednesday at the Purple Cow.
“What’s to think about?” Sam wiped his hands on a rag provided by Lucia. “It’s a great town. Winter’s happy. There’s a beautiful woman down the street.”
“Meaning Aurora Jones.”
“You two seem to get along.” Sam chuckled. “Not everyone can say that.”
Irritated, Jake tossed his hammer aside. “I don’t know why people think she’s difficult. She’s a good person.”
“You’re absolutely right.” His brother struggled to keep a straight face. “Hand me that level, will you? I’ve got to check this stud.”
Jake did, still grumbling. “I’ve only been here, what, eleven days? It seems longer than that.”
“You miss the music? Get a band together.”
“If I’m staying, I need to find a place to rent. Preferably furnished. And right here in town. But I don’t know, I’ll have to find something to do.”
“Is money an issue? You haven’t touched the trust—”
“Have you?”
“Not yet, but I’ve got three boys to send to college.”
“Winter doesn’t need the money,” Jake confided, looking out the window at the quiet street. Spring in Montana was an iffy season, he’d realized. There was rain, sleet and sometimes sunshine that didn’t feel all that warm. Sunshine Lite, he thought. And wondered if that was a song title. “Her mother spent most of her own trust fund, according to the solicitors, but Winter’s grandparents left her set for life.”
“Lucky girl.”
“Not so lucky.” Jake turned from the window and surveyed the gutted room. “She’s missed out on a lot. That goes without saying, I suppose. At least you and I had each other. And we lived at home.”
“Though we wished we didn’t.”
“Yeah. Boarding school would have been a good deal.”
Sam cleared his throat. “I’d be glad to pay you, Jake. You know I need the help and I want to get this addition done so Lucia and I can get married and get on with our lives.”
Jake laughed. “Sam, do you have any idea how much money a hit song can make for the guy who wrote it?”
Sam shook his head. “Haven’t a clue, big brother.”
“If a big star records it and it’s a hit? Easily a million.”
“A million dollars,” Sam repeated. “A million dollars?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve had some hits?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I have. Not with my recordings, but with the songs I wrote for other people. The big stars.” He picked up the hammer again and prepared to knock out more studs in the dividing wall that was to be removed.
“So why aren’t you in Nashville writing songs?”
“I like to tour. I like being on the road. I love playing music. And meeting the people. I can write songs anywhere,” he explained. “Some are good and some suck. Some are pretty brilliant.”
“So you could live anywhere you want,” Sam said, brightening. “Then live here.”
Jake shook his
head. “That’s the problem. I’m not sure I could stay in one place without going crazy.”
“You’ve got a daughter now,” his brother said. “Going crazy is the least of your problems.”
“I need a plan,” Jake said, banging the stud to loosen it. “I need to figure this out.”
“I told you we’d keep Winter with us,” Sam said. “But I don’t think that’s the best thing for either one of you. The kid needs her father.”
“Yeah.” Jake pulled the stud free and set it aside. “I just wish I knew how to be one.”
* * *
“I CAN’T FIGURE out how to make him turn.”
“Rein on the right side to turn left, rein on the left side to turn right,” Mr. MacGregor said. He stood just inside the corral and watched the four of them maneuver their horses in the same direction.
Winter remembered that part, but she wasn’t sure the horse, whose name was Icicle, knew the routine. Icicle, a gray mare with a white tail and mane, looked like a star. But she moved as if she was half-dead and seemed unable to walk fast.
Icicle finally responded to the touch of the rein on her neck and turned in the proper direction. Winter was almost grateful for the slow-motion turn, because it would be really embarrassing if she fell off a horse the first time she rode one.
Davey and his brothers trotted around the corral like miniature cowboys, much to Winter’s envy. She longed to be that comfortable in the saddle and to feel so confident that she could actually speak to another person while guiding Icicle around the ring.
“You’re doing great,” Mr. MacGregor called. “You have a nice, light touch. Keep it up.”
Easy for him to say. Meg at the café said he’d been riding since he was two. But having a “nice, light touch” sounded like a decent compliment. She would text that to Robbie tonight. Winter shivered, despite her hoodie and the warm socks she wore inside her new boots. They were Tony Lamas and they were aqua, with pointed toes and riding heels.
She loved them. Every few minutes she’d glance down and look at her boots in the stirrups because she couldn’t believe she was actually riding. Her new American-made jeans were stiff, but Aurora had offered to soak them in fabric softener and make them more pliable. Her baseball cap was dark brown, with “The Dahl” embroidered across the front in red letters—even though she’d had to take it off to wear the riding hat Mr. MacGregor had supplied. A hard hat for first-timers, he’d said. Davey had whistled when he saw the new baseball cap and asked her where she got it.
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