In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  “I’ll be right back.”

  In Winona’s little kitchen, Mel spooned Darjeeling into a tea ball and put the ball in Winona’s old Blue Willow teapot. She poured the hot water over it, covered the pot with a hand-crocheted cozy and left it to steep for a few minutes.

  Back in the living room, she found Winona asleep. Homer had jumped up on the sofa with her and was curled in a ball at her side. Mel bent over her. She seemed to be breathing normally.

  “Don’t fuss.” Winona’s eyes popped open. “I told you. I am fine.”

  Mel straightened. “I just don’t feel right about you living here all alone.”

  Winona petted the kitten, who purred his approval. “But of course, I’m not alone. I get an endless parade of visitors checking on me daily.”

  “What visitors?”

  “One of the Crawfords is always coming by, and usually a Dalton or two.” The Daltons—and the Crawfords, who owned the general store—were well-known local families. Winona scratched Homer’s ears. “And this little guy’s namesake comes to see me, too. Homer Gilmore drops by two or three times a week. He’s just fine, Homer is, in case you were wondering. Still living off somewhere all on his own. No one’s quite sure where.”

  “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well. Rust Creek Falls wouldn’t be the same without Homer Gilmore popping up when you least expect him.”

  “What I’m saying, dear, is that I’m not alone. Someone is always showing up at my door—and what about that tea? I was thinking Darjeeling...”

  “The Darjeeling is brewing.”

  Winona gave her a wistful little smile. “I’ve been longing for Darjeeling. And you picked up my mental signal. We’ve always had that special connection, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Mel said affectionately. “We have.”

  Winona frowned. “If only I weren’t so tired all the time.”

  Mel got up. “Come on, now. Lie back down.”

  Winona didn’t even try to argue that time. She put her head on the pillow and Mel spread the afghan over her.

  The tea forgotten, Winona slept.

  Mel wandered back to the kitchen and brought in the tea tray. She poured herself a cup and watched over her slumbering friend. Homer jumped onto the sofa again, cuddled up to Winona and closed his eyes.

  Mel sipped her tea, her thoughts straying where she shouldn’t let them go—to Gabe. How could she feel such longing for the man she’d run from just the other day?

  And the diary...

  She decided that when Winona woke up, she would ease into the subject of Josiah and the missing Beatrix.

  But “ease in” how, exactly? She had no idea where to start.

  And the more she thought about it, the more she feared the shock of the news might have Winona breathless and panting again—or worse.

  Really, not much had changed since the last time Mel had visited her friend. Winona was delicate. Startling news might have a devastating effect on her.

  No. Mel just wasn’t ready to chance sending Winona over the emotional edge. At the very least, Mel needed to find out what had happened to Beatrix before delivering upsetting information to an old woman in questionable health.

  But she wouldn’t be finding out anything, now would she? She’d turned her back on the diary, left it—and Gabe—behind.

  Carefully, she set her empty teacup on the tray. Guilt and shame twisted in her stomach. Gabe had been right. She’d dumped the diary on him and run away—because she was afraid. Of his love.

  Of risking her heart again.

  The tea had grown cold when Winona opened her eyes and sat up. Homer jumped from the sofa and darted around the room, batting at shadows.

  “Oh, my dear,” said Winona. “How rude of me, dropping off like that.”

  “I’m glad to see you resting.”

  “You are the sweetest girl.” Winona frowned at the teapot.

  “It’s gone cold, I’m afraid. I’ll make some more.”

  “Would you? I would love a cup. Old Gene brought me a red-velvet Bundt cake with cream cheese frosting yesterday.” Gene Strickland ran the local boarding house with his wife, Melba. “It’s in the upper cupboard on the left. Why don’t you cut us each a slice?”

  Mel made more tea and served it with the cake. It was after eleven when she put Homer back in his carrier and left Winona’s little house.

  “Be safe and well and happy,” Winona whispered in her ear as they shared a last hug at the door.

  Mel walked back to her parents’ house, waving at former neighbors along the way, worried for Winona, yet feeling a little less glum to see some familiar faces.

  But then she turned the corner and saw the Jaguar parked at the curb in front of the house.

  Clutching Homer’s carrier tighter, Mel picked up the pace. A few seconds later, she spotted Todd, perfectly pulled together as usual in Western-cut dress slacks, a crisp white shirt, a butter-soft suede jacket and a pair of high-dollar boots. He was standing on the front porch, waiting for her.

  “God, you are beautiful,” he said as she climbed the porch steps. His perfect white teeth flashed with his too-wide smile. “I’ve missed you so much, Mel. You’ll never know.” He started to reach for her.

  She jerked back as Homer hissed in his carrier.

  Todd winced. “What’s that? A cat? You’ve got a cat now?”

  “Yes, I do, Todd. Why are you here?”

  He raked his sleek brown hair back with a manicured hand. “You won’t talk to me. I’ve called, I’ve texted. I’m at the end of my rope over you. Mel, I cannot live without you.” He dropped to a knee and put his hand on his heart. “Won’t you please come back home where you belong?”

  She couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter. “Todd, wake up. I fell for your lies twice. But then you cheated in our bed and I caught you in the act.”

  “No! I never cheated—I mean, except that one time.”

  “Stop. You did. You know you did—and so do I. And besides, one time was more than enough.”

  “But you have to believe me. It was one time—the only time...” He tried to grab her free hand. She jerked it out of the way. He sneezed and Homer let out an angry yowl. “Can you put that cat over there?” He pointed to the far end of the porch. “You know I’m allergic.”

  “Get up off the porch floor and go home, Todd.”

  “Mel, come on. It was a mistake and I swear on my undying love for you that it was the only time.”

  “Yeah, right. What about that earring I found under the bed a year ago?”

  He widened his eyes in a failed attempt to look totally innocent. “It was yours.”

  “It didn’t belong to me and we both know it didn’t. And what about that woman, Brandi, the one with the enormous breasts who kept sexting you? You swore it was a wrong number. But it wasn’t. Was it, Todd?”

  “Why won’t you believe me? I was wrong to cheat, I get that.” Todd jumped to his feet then. “But I never lied to you. I love you, Mel. I’ve always loved you.”

  “I want you to leave, Todd.” She spoke slowly and carefully, as though to a stubborn child. “I want you to go now. If you don’t, I’m calling the sheriff’s office. In Rust Creek Falls they don’t take kindly to trespassers like you.”

  From the carrier, Homer let out a long, low growl. It was a sound Mel had never heard the kitten make before. She almost grinned. Her little Homer had a protective streak.

  “That cat is a menace,” muttered Todd.

  Simultaneously, a rusty voice from somewhere near the bottom of the steps said, “Git, you durn fool! The lady asked you to leave.”

  Mel turned toward the voice just as Homer Gilmore rose from the boxwood bushes her mom had planted fifteen years before. “Homer?”

  “’Lo, Mellie Driscoll.” Homer wore his usual tattered bib overall
s and a torn thermal shirt. What remained of his hair had bits of leaves stuck in it. And he had that thoroughly Homeresque expression on his hangdog face—kind of a cross between utterly benign and capable of unimaginable acts of mayhem.

  “This is a surprise,” Mel said fondly.

  “Who the hell is that?” Todd was looking a little alarmed.

  “That’s Homer Gilmore,” Mel replied. “And he doesn’t want you here any more than I do.”

  Homer mounted the steps slowly, those wild eyes of his locked on Todd. “What’d I say to you, city boy?”

  “Ahem. Well. I don’t—”

  “Skedaddle!”

  By then, Mel was having to exert a lot of effort not to burst into peals of laughter. And it got better. Todd kind of zipped around Homer and sprinted off down the steps to his gleaming car.

  “You’re making a big mistake, Mel!” he shouted as he flung the driver’s door wide and got in.

  “Git!” Homer roared again and started down the steps.

  That was enough for Todd. He revved the engine and sped off down the street.

  “Good riddance to bad trash,” muttered Homer. “And he better slow down or he’ll be spendin’ the night in the county jail. Sheriff Christensen’s got no patience for rich guys in fancy cars.”

  “Thanks, Homer.” Mel reached out and gently patted the sleeve of his dingy thermal shirt.

  He peered at the cat carrier. “What’ve you got there?”

  “Homer Gilmore, meet Homer the cat.”

  A rumbling sound escaped the human Homer. It took Mel a moment to realize it was a laugh. “You named your cat after me?”

  “I did, yes.”

  “Well. What do you know about that? I believe I am honored, Mellie.” He peered more closely at Homer, who peered right back. “He has beautiful eyes.”

  “Just like yours, Homer.”

  The old man let out a snort. His scruffy, wrinkled cheeks had turned red. “Now you are embarrassin’ me.”

  She patted his sleeve again. “It’s almost lunchtime. Come on inside and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

  Homer put up a gnarled hand. “Thank you, but no. I’m on my way to see Winona. She usually has something sweet for me.”

  “I think it just might be red-velvet Bundt cake.”

  “Now, we’re talkin’.” He went on down the steps. At the bottom, he paused. “You take care now, Mellie Driscoll.”

  “You too, Homer.” She gave him a wave. “You, too.”

  As she turned for the house, she was thinking of Gabe. Seeing Todd again had brought it all sharply home to her. Gabe was nothing like Todd. Gabe didn’t have a cheating bone in his whole big, hot, broad-shouldered body.

  “I really messed up,” she whispered to no one in particular.

  She’d been fighting it so hard, but seeing Todd again had done it, made it impossible for her to keep denying the truth.

  Not only was she in love with Gabe Abernathy, she wasn’t going to be happy without him at her side. Breaking it off with him had been a terrible mistake.

  If only she’d figured that out before she told him they were through.

  Chapter Twelve

  An hour later, Mel had packed everything up, stored her rollaway and boxes of kitchen and bath stuff in the backyard shed, loaded up the car and gotten Homer all comfy in his giant tube carrier. She hit the road for Bronco.

  And she made great time, too, arriving at BH247 at a little after six that evening. It didn’t take long at all to bring Homer in, fill his food and water bowls and unpack her suitcase.

  “Hey, neighbor!” Brittany called from the next-door patio as Mel sat out at her little cast-iron café table with her feet up on the extra chair, sipping a tall ice water and debating what to throw together for dinner. “I stopped for takeout tacos on the way home,” Brittany said. “There’s plenty. Join us?”

  “Best offer I’ve had all day.”

  Mel went next door, where Amanda had whipped up a pitcher of margaritas to go with the tacos.

  Mel offered a toast. “To you, both of you. I’m so glad you’re my friends and it’s good to be home.” Home. Somehow, so quickly, Bronco had started to be the place she called home. She thought about that “dream job” in Austin. It didn’t seem so perfect for her now.

  “So how was Rust Creek Falls?” asked Amanda.

  Mel gave a quick report of her visit and a blow-by-blow of Todd’s unexpected appearance.

  “Whoa,” said Brittany. “I think I’m a fan of this Homer Gilmore guy.”

  “Me, too,” agreed Amanda. She turned her big brown eyes on Mel. “I can see why you named your cat after him—and I have to ask. You seemed down yesterday. What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  Mel set down her margarita glass and told her friends the truth. “I’m in love with Gabe—and I broke it off with him.”

  Brittany looked shocked. “I don’t get it. You just said you love him.”

  “Why break it off?” asked Amanda, bewildered.

  Brittany demanded, “What did he do?”

  Mel let out a groan. “Nothing. He was wonderful. I just got scared when he tried to tell me he loves me.”

  “You messed up,” said Brittany.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You need to fix this. Go to him, tell him you were wrong and you want another chance.”

  “It’s too late. I blew it. Falling in love wasn’t in my plan and I couldn’t deal with it. He’s been pretty much all in with me from the first and I’ve been indecisive, to put it mildly, eager to be with him one minute, pulling away the next. He’s through with me now and I can’t blame him. I need to somehow accept that it’s too late. I’ve blown it with him.”

  “Wrong attitude.” Brittany shook a finger at her. “You just said you love the man. And that means it’s never too late.”

  Amanda nodded with enthusiasm. “You have to keep trying. You have to go to him and admit you were scared, that you know you reacted badly and you want a chance to make it right.”

  “Tell him how you really feel,” Brittany insisted. “Give your love a fighting chance.”

  * * *

  Friday morning, Gabe got a call from Roger Dutton, a partner in his latest real estate project.

  “We need to firm this deal up,” said Roger. “How ’bout tonight?”

  “Sure. Let’s get everyone together for dinner at the Association.”

  “I like DJ’s Deluxe,” argued Roger. “Steaks you can cut with a fork, great service, good drinks and a relaxed atmosphere.”

  Gabe dropped into an easy chair and stared out his living room window at the mountains and the never-ending blue expanse of Montana sky. Mel would probably be working tonight.

  He didn’t want to see her. It would hurt like hell, having to watch her in one of those silky white shirts that clung to her pretty breasts and a black pencil skirt that made him want to bend her over the nearest available table. He didn’t think he could take having to watch her fly around that restaurant, making sure everything was running like clockwork, scattering her gorgeous smiles to every man, woman and child in the place.

  “Gabe? Did I lose you?”

  “I’m right here.”

  “So what do you say? DJ’s?”

  No way. He couldn’t do it.

  And that pissed him off.

  Yeah, Mel had screwed him over. But Bronco was his town. Damned if he was letting some gorgeous, unattainable blonde keep him from anywhere he needed to be. He would buck the hell up and deal.

  Starting tonight. “All right. DJ’s it is.”

  * * *

  Someone else in Gabe’s party had made the reservation, so Mel had no warning that he would be showing up at DJ’s that night.

  When she spotted him, he was already at his table with three other
men and a good-looking middle-aged woman in a red dress. At that point, Mel was making the rounds, checking on the customers, sharing a few words at each table and then moving on.

  When she stopped at Gabe’s table, he didn’t even look at her. Dear Lord, he was so beautiful, in a black jacket and a silver-gray shirt, his sculpted jaw freshly shaven. It was awful, knowing she loved him and having him ignore her. But she managed to keep her smile in place as she asked how everything was going.

  One of the men nodded and the woman in the red dress said, “Perfect, as always. This filet is pure heaven.”

  “Wonderful. Enjoy your evening. And please let me know if there’s anything you need.” Still smiling, feeling like her face might crack, she moved on to the next table and the one after that.

  As soon as she neared the hallway that led to the kitchen, she darted through it and kept going to the employee restroom in the back. It was empty, thank Heaven. She slipped in and shut the door and ended up standing at the sink, staring into her own haunted eyes in the mirror.

  She needed...

  “To talk to him,” she whispered aloud to her own stricken reflection. “I need to talk to him. I need to be brave enough to tell him that I was wrong, and won’t he please give me one more chance?” She moaned and squeezed her eyes shut. It was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. And he would probably say no.

  But Brittany and Amanda were right. She needed to at least give her own happiness a real shot. She’d caused the breakup, ruined things between them. The least she could do was to try to fix what she’d broken.

  She glared at her reflection and instructed in a hissing whisper, “You are going to do it. Tonight, if possible. And if no opportunity presents itself tonight, tomorrow you will pick up the damn phone. You will say that you were wrong and you’re so very sorry and would he maybe consider—” a soft rap on the door cut her off. “I’ll be right out!” she called as she flipped on the tap and washed her hands.

  When she opened the door, one of the sous chefs gave her a nod and a smile and darted in as she went out.

  In the busy heart of the kitchen, it was organized chaos and chef Damien reigned. He glanced up and gave her a wink and she knew that all was well in the back of the house.