“I’m sure you’ll be on your way again soon. After all, there is nothing for you here.” She plastered a fake smile of sympathy on her face and leaned close. “It must be difficult for you, being all alone like you are. Divorce is painful, from what I’ve heard. Especially to the losing partner.”
She waited for that to sink in, but not long enough for indignation to take hold.
“Don’t feel bad. Even my son, poor thing, went through it.” Deloris gave an exaggerated moue of surprise, delicately covering her mouth with her fingertips. “Oops. You probably didn’t realize Gideon had been married, did you?”
“Actually, yes. Gideon told me about his marriage.” The woman leaned back on her too-soft couch and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other. With an irritatingly amused look on her face, she continued, “And his divorce.”
Oh. Deloris exchanged a glance with Reba, who was looking a little sick, the wimp. Since Gideon didn’t talk about his marriage to anyone, this wasn’t a good sign. Deloris wished she could lean back and think things through for a minute. But the look on the interloper’s face and the indulgent cushions made it clear it wouldn’t be a comfortable choice.
“Then you know how in love he was. And how devoted he is to Rossdale.”
Confusion flashed through the younger woman’s pitch-black eyes. Deloris couldn’t wait to gloat. Instead of asking the questions so clear in those wide eyes, the woman just shrugged.
“I’m really not comfortable discussing Gideon when he’s not here. Anything he wants me to know about his marriage, his ex-wife, or his choices, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”
Thankfully, Reba’s gasp drowned out Deloris’s own.
“What are you saying?” Reba squeaked. “How do you expect to ever learn anything without asking questions? Without taking good information when it’s offered?”
“You mean gossip, right? I’ve been on the wrong side of gossip recently and know how nasty it can be. I don’t want to be a part of that. Not over Gideon.”
As much as she tried, Deloris couldn’t put a bad spin on that. The tone was sad, not snooty. The words resigned, not lecturing.
Then the girl leaned forward with a smile. It was one of those whole-face grins that seemed to light her up from inside with a spark of mischief and fun.
“But if you want to fill me in on this town’s history I’ve heard bits and pieces of, I’d be all for hearing that.”
“History?” Reba asked, with a quick glance at Deloris for permission.
“Yeah. I’ve seen the well in the town square and Gideon’s mentioned a few things. But when I stopped in the library the other day, I couldn’t find any books on the town’s origins. I thought that was odd. Especially since you all seem so proud of your history.”
She gave them a friendly smile and raised her brows. “You know, like with that potato doll display and your Historical Society and all that.”
Deloris’s lips twitched so she pressed them tight. She refused to be amused.
“Rossdale is rich in history,” she said. “But it’s a long story and it’s getting to be my lunchtime.”
The younger woman gave her a long look. “Okay. It’s too bad you didn’t have time to share the story. I just pulled my last batch of cookies from the oven before you got here. They’d be cool now and go perfect with coffee.”
Deloris frowned. She’d been smelling roast and something savory. No hint of a sweet baking. Just then, the scent wafted through the room like a soft breeze. Sweet and sugary. Reba looked like she was going to cry if Deloris said no. Being a good friend, she offered a shrug of her own.
“I suppose we could find time for a cookie and coffee.”
“And filling me in on Rossdale’s history?”
“Very well, Ms. Lansing. It might help you understand what a complex and tightly knit community we have here. And why it’s almost impossible for an outsider to fit in.”
“Call me Miki,” the younger woman said over her shoulder. She didn’t bother to respond to the rest. Just headed down the hall.
“What’re you gonna tell her?” Reba asked in a whisper. “Not the whole story, are you?”
“Of course not.”
Before Deloris could elaborate, Miki returned with a large tray. On it was a coffee carafe, three cups and saucers, and a china plate filled with delicious cookies.
Even Deloris couldn’t fault the woman’s hostessing as she handed around coffee and smaller plates of still-warm treats. She did wonder, however, how the girl had managed to have a fresh pot of coffee made so quickly.
As Miki held out a plate and cup to Deloris, she met her gaze and held it. Deloris felt like she was drowning in the black depths of the younger woman’s eyes.
“I’ve made this just for you, I hope it’s to your taste. In exchange for the whole story of the history of this place,” Miki said in an oddly compelling voice. “Please feel free to turn it away, since once you accept I’ll listen to all you have to say.”
Deloris opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed it and shrugged. “I told you I’d be glad to share the story if you fed us.”
“Lovely,” Miki said, releasing her gaze.
Deloris took the plate and coffee, settling her cup on the low table in front of her and taking a bite of a cookie. Flavors exploded in her mouth, sending her salivary glands into overdrive. Rich chocolate and coconut blended in a delicious combination.
Miki gave her and Reba a few minutes to glut on cookies and refills of coffee, while nibbling patiently on her single cookie.
“I heard you were a chef,” Reba said around a mouthful of chocolate. “But I had no idea you were this good. We don’t get much fancy cooking here in Rossdale.”
“Actually, I’m just as comfortable with simple fare as I am with fancy. That’s one of the things I loved most about catering, the fact that the meals, the tastes, changed with each job.”
It was Reba’s hum that pulled Deloris out of her chocolate inspired stupor. She remembered the other woman’s wish for a good chef. To keep Reba from opening her big mouth and making unacceptable suggestions, Deloris set her coffee cup down with a clack and cleared her throat.
“Rossdale is a town rich in history. Some would call it myth, even,” she began. “Back in nineteen-oh-eight, Hiram Ross settled the town. It was about five years later he was up in the mountains, working his mine when there was a torrential rain. He was trapped, but safe enough in the mine. Sometime in the night, amidst the thunder and storming rain, he heard a woman crying in pain. Risking his own life, he hurried toward the sound, finding a beautiful young lady in distress, her leg broken in a mountain slide, barely conscious.”
Deloris paused to sip her coffee, appreciating the enraptured look on the other woman’s face.
“Hiram, being a gentleman, carried the poor thing to his mine and tended her the best he could. As soon as the rains let up, he carried her ten miles back to the settlement that was Rossdale. Her pain was so much, she passed out on the trip. When Hiram got her back to the good citizens of Rossdale, they happily tended her needs and cared for her.”
“This is a sweet story,” Miki said when Deloris paused to eat a cookie. “I’m not getting the significance though.”
“That’s because you’re too busy interrupting to listen,” Deloris reprimanded. She took another sip of the coffee, patted her mouth with her napkin, and sighed. “It took three long weeks of nursing and care before the girl regained full consciousness. When she did, she informed them that her name was Rosalee Wenton and she was a witch of great power.”
Deloris gave a gratified smile at the younger woman’s gasp of shock.
“It was clear the poor thing expected to be tossed right out of town, but the people weren’t like that, and welcomed her as one of their own. In thanks, she blessed the town. There’s a plaque in the square that reads: Peace and prosperity I bring to thee, in gratitude for what was given to me. My blessings continue to flow from above, as
long as you welcome faith, magic, and love.”
They fell silent. Deloris swallowed, then shook her head like she was coming out of a dream. She hadn’t told that story since Gideon was a little boy.
“What happened?”
“The town was blessed, just like she said. It was like they could do no wrong. A gem vein would go dry, the next day they’d find silver. Everyone prospered, the town grew strong. It also attracted a lot of weirdos, especially in the sixties and seventies. People who were looking for a place that believed in magic. A lot of them people wanted other things too, like free-love and marijuana. Lucas Ross’s mother finally got tired of all the weirdos. She convinced the town council to ignore that silly old superstition and uphold the law. It started as a plan to just run off the ones who were causing problems, but soon anyone claiming to believe the prophecy was shunned. It didn’t take long to shift Rossdale’s focus away from that silly story,” Deloris trailed off. The rest of the town history made her heart ache, so she ignored the compulsion to share and ate another cookie instead.
“Did you believe in the prophecy,” Miki asked softly. “Did you think there had really been witches and that believing blessed your town?”
Deloris started to unequivocally deny it. But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and a cramp shot through her belly. What had been in those cookies?
Miki watched, looking for all the world like a languid cat resting outside a mousehole.
Finally, Deloris shrugged. Might as well tell the truth, it wouldn’t hurt anybody at this point.
“I did believe it, but kept my mouth shut. Lucas’s mother was a formidable woman. It didn’t do to speak out against her, and if I wanted to marry my Lucas, I knew I’d do best to just keep my opinion to myself.”
Reba’s gasp drew her attention. Tears filled the other woman’s eyes and Deloris realized this was the most open, the most honest she’d likely been over the subject in almost forty years.
“But Gloria Ross wasn’t one to let things go, so she didn’t stop till she’d convinced the town it was those weirdos behind the trouble. Despite the prophecy, the town had been losing money, the logging company was closing down. This was all the proof she needed to show that magic had no place here. Neither did those lunatics who believed in it.”
Deloris took a quick sip of coffee and buried a sigh. One of those lunatics, as Gloria had deemed them, had been Deloris’s best friend. No matter, though. She’d set aside her foolish beliefs for Lucas, for the town’s best interest.
“Most people who didn’t agree with the changes just left. There are plenty of other places for those foolish beliefs, and it got rid of the graft and con artists. A few people had ties strong enough to Rossdale to not want to leave the area, so they moved on out to the Larson Farm at the foot of the mountains. After a few years, it was them on the East bank of Mage Lake, us on the West. Everyone kept their place and things were fine.”
She set her cup down with an audible snap, and straightened her spine with a silent one.
“And that’s as much as you need to know of the history of Rossdale.” Deloris felt like wiping her eyes, sure they were filled with the groggy dregs of sleep.
“Thank you for sharing that. It seems Rossdale has quite an interesting history.”
Deloris wondered at the odd smile on Miki’s face. Not that she’d ask or anything. She didn’t want the girl thinking she cared.
The younger woman glanced from Deloris to Reba, who was craning her pudgy neck like a lizard as she tried to look down the hall. Miki pressed her lips together like she was holding something back. Deloris wanted to think it was something nasty, but the humor dancing in the other woman’s eyes claimed the opposite.
“I don’t know what kind of thing you all need for your Historical Society. I’m sure you can discuss it with Gideon, since he’s the one doing the work. In the meantime, would you like a tour?”
Miki gathered the dishes into a neat stack on the tray, then stood.
“The rooms aren’t complete yet. I’ve been trying to do as much of the work as I can on my own. With Gideon’s instruction, of course. Once I understand what to do, I can handle a lot of the smaller jobs. He’s a great teacher,” she complimented. But Deloris only snorted, since she could just imagine what else her son was teaching.
Her good senses returning now that her stomach was comfortable, Deloris ground her teeth. This meeting wasn’t going as she’d planned. The younger woman wasn’t running, and that wasn’t acceptable. Deloris was determined to haul her son onto the path she and his father had determined for him. And all she had to do was a clean sweep of all the trash along the way.
Before she could resume her intimidation tactics, Reba bounced out of the chair with a clap of her hands.
“Oh yes. I want to see what you’ve done. C’mon, Deloris, we’ll get a tour.”
Miki watched Fish-Face purse her lips and wondered if she’d swallow her refusal or give in to her obvious curiosity.
Apparently curiosity was stronger than bitterness, because Gideon’s momma stood, brushed at her slacks like something nasty might have stuck to them and gave a stiff smile.
“An inspection would be fitting. After all, that’s why we’re here.”
Inspection, her ass.
But seeing as this was Gideon’s mother and he likely didn’t want to see her sporting a nasty rash, Miki just gave a tight smile and gestured for the women to follow her.
A quick tour, try to make peace with the mother of the man she was in serious like with, and she could scoot them out the door. Then she could concentrate on that little bit of history Deloris had shared and what it might mean.
After five minutes exploring the main floor, she was damned if she’d listen to Fish-Face any longer than she had to. Who knew someone could be so interesting and pleasant under a truth enchantment, only to cover it up with such nastiness the rest of the time?
“You aren’t color blind, are you, dear? The blue and green in that bathroom obviously clashed.” Deloris informed her in a snide tone. Miki clenched her teeth around a smile and inclined her head.
“Down this hall is the kitchen,” she invited. “I think we’ll skip the upstairs.”
“The upstairs are just as historic as the downstairs, you know.”
“Right. Sure they are. But it’s probably not safe for you up there with all the construction and tools and such. I’d hate for something large and heavy to land on your head.”
Deloris swallowed, obviously smart enough to get the threat. Miki had to give the older woman credit, though. She didn’t look intimidated. Just irritated.
The women entered the kitchen ahead of her and Miki was pulled from her contemplation by their exclamations.
She glanced around them and bit back her own exclamation. Although hers was mostly swear words.
“Ryan,” she said in a monotone. “When did you get here?”
Her brother lounged on the new, buffet style seat with a grin. His black tee shirt molded itself to the muscles of his chest, and she’d bet Perry’s vintage Mustang if Ryan stood, his jeans would be illegally tight as well.
“I got here during the tour and didn’t want to interrupt.” He shifted his attention to the older women. “Ladies, we haven’t met, have we?”
Miki tuned out as her brother poured charm and bullshit over the nosy women. When he sat them down and started handing out beauty advice, she went back to the living room to retrieve the dirty dishes. By the time they were all washed and put away, he’d done the ladies’ colors, advised them on new hairstyles, and given them his business card. The card, he informed them, had the address to his website where he sold makeup so good it was almost magical.
Miki rolled her eyes. But despite the earlier disdain for all things magic, Deloris ate it up like it was coated in those cookies Miki had zapped up earlier.
“I think you ladies are in for a treat,” Ryan claimed, making Miki frown and look at him in question. “Miki’s made a ro
ast, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s done.”
Her gloating long forgotten, she gave Ryan her own annoyed glare. He ignored her.
“You haven’t tasted delicious until you’ve tasted Mikaela’s cooking. She’s won prizes for it, you know.”
Miki shot her brother a wide-eyed stare. When had Ryan lost his mind? And when had he noticed her cooking, other than a means to mooch a meal? Yes, she had won prizes, but she hadn’t thought any of her family even realized that. An odd, surprised sort of pleasure blossomed deep inside.
No matter. The last thing she wanted was these two old biddies tasting her food. The house tour she could handle. After all, the disrepair wasn’t her fault and since Gideon had done them, they couldn’t fault the repairs.
But her cooking? She was liable to turn Fish-Face into a trout at the first insult.
* * *
Tilda smoothed a hand over her hip, making sure her companion’s gaze took in her lush curves.
“We have a deal, then?” she asked in a husky voice. She liked the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as Rob Lane tried to focus on her words and not her nude body.
“You’re sure you’ll be ready for the trucks in two weeks?” he asked finally.
Making a show out of sliding her panties on, Tilda didn’t take offense at his question. After all, he didn’t know who he was dealing with. Not really.
Deciding he’d had enough of a look-see to keep him in line for a while, she reached for her dress. The peach silk slid over her bare skin like a liquid sigh. Tilda reached for her leather belt and snugged it around her waist, then looked back at the man lying on the bed.
The Vice President of Gem Mineral Resources lay on the two-hundred count sheets, his tan body a nice treat to the eyes. Tilda probably would have let him pleasure her, even without the promise of a million dollars. But only in style. She was so tired of the bare bones living out with the Lights of Atlantis, and her magic was so undependable lately, she rarely left Antonio’s holdings.
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 77