In truth, at twenty-eight, April was as close to Megan’s age as she was to Sarah’s. She felt for both mother and daughter.
“So what’s everyone wearing to the library fund-raiser?” The question came from Courtney. “I don’t think my closetful of scrubs will quite cut it at a Vivian Templeton production.”
The topic made April think about her grandparents. Squire and Gloria still hadn’t been speaking that morning at breakfast. “It’s not a formal affair, is it?” She couldn’t imagine how such a thing would be particularly successful in Weaver, where a lot of folks’ idea of dressing up meant washing the mud off their boots and pressing a crease into the legs of their blue jeans.
“Cocktail attire,” Courtney answered, “according to the invitation.”
“In other words, wear a couple sequins with the jeans,” Jane suggested dryly. “I know Vivian pretty well by now. She might seem like an eccentric snob at times, but she’s a lot less uptight about that sort of thing than appears. And she knows people will kick in money for her library project if only for the chance to see inside her mansion.” She looked around her and muttered something under her breath as she pushed to her feet and began clearing the empties from a nearby table to carry back to the bar.
Jed had taken one of the few empty barstools and despite her best efforts, April’s attention kept sliding to him. He was facing away from her, which didn’t help any. It only meant some kernel of her mind decided it was okay to study him, free from discovery.
A ridiculous notion, of course. The man could look up at any moment and see what was going on behind him courtesy of the long mirror hanging on the wall behind the bar.
Nevertheless, she continued to study him.
The wide shoulders, bowed a little. A result of the arms he’d propped on the gleaming wooden bar top? Or the weight of working for a man like Otis?
She looked down at her hands, more than a little oblivious to the conversations flowing around her.
She wasn’t aware of any plan to stand until she found herself on her feet. But there she was, skirting tables and making her way to the bar.
She angled between Jed and the person occupying the barstool next to him. “Buy you a drink?” It came out more breathless than she intended.
He didn’t look up at her, but looked up to face the mirror instead, catching her gaze in the reflection there. “I don’t drink.”
She couldn’t help the way her eyebrows rose a little. He had a squat glass sitting in front of him, half-filled with amber liquid, and when she lifted it and sniffed, she knew it was scotch. “Okay.” She set the glass precisely where it had been. “Buy you a coffee, instead?”
He finally shifted, looking at her straight on with those dark, chocolate eyes.
For no reason whatsoever, her mouth suddenly felt dry.
“You won’t get to Otis through me.”
“Sometimes the offer of a coffee is just a coffee, Jed.”
“What happened to Mr. Dalloway?”
She glanced around the bar. “I don’t know.” The woman on the barstool beside him shifted, forcing April to shift, as well. Her shoulder brushed accidentally against Jed’s before she managed to scoot back a few inches. “It’s Friday night. The mister and miss stuff can come back out on Monday morning.”
His lips actually stretched into a semblance of a smile. Just enough to make something unfamiliar inside her flitter around.
He turned slightly, and his thigh brushed against her leg. Only he didn’t scoot back.
“The gesture’s appreciated,” he finally said. “Miss Reed.” He twisted on the barstool again. No longer touching.
That flittering fizzled and sank.
She managed a smile but could see by her own reflection in the mirror that it looked just as tight as it felt.
She looked down at his seemingly untouched glass of whisky. “Enjoy your—” she turned her palm upward “—whatever, then. Jed.”
She skirted the crowd that had been thickening and returned to her seat only to find that three more relatives had joined their group.
She pushed cheerfulness into her voice. “Definitely turning out to be ladies’ night,” she said as she sat back down after exchanging quick hugs with them all.
“Hey.” Nick, Lucy’s stepson, tossed a balled-up napkin toward her. “What about me? I pee standing up.”
April grinned, managing to push off the worst of her Jed-lag. “Charming as always, Nick.”
He flashed a dimple and tilted his bottle of beer in her direction.
She leaned toward him. Of all of her cousins, he was the closest to her in age. “Rumor has it you’re romancing Weaver’s newest billionaire widow.”
He looked only vaguely chagrined. “Vivian Templeton is too much for any sane man to take on. Young or old.”
She laughed. “Congratulations, though. I hear you’re working on the big library project.”
He nodded. “I had to promise Dad the moon for him to give it to me. After working with her for the past few months, I’d steal the moon just to give the project back to him.”
“She’s that hard to work with?”
“Let’s just say she’s...different.” He held up his palms. “She wants the Taj Mahal. Has me work up something.” His right hand dipped and his left rose like a scale. “Then practicality strikes. Has me changing it all again. Back and forth. Up and down. Every time we meet. Extravagance one day. Then the next it’s ‘Dear Arthur’ and she backtracks all over hell and back again.”
“Ah, Dear Arthur.” Jane had returned with another tray of drinks.
April lifted her brows. “Who is Arthur?”
“Vivian’s last husband and according to her, the great love of her life. Unlike all the rest of her husbands, he was a regular guy. Didn’t have money, and evidently being with him taught Vivian the error of her ways. Since he died, she’s been trying to right all the wrongs of her life. I think she’s afraid if she doesn’t she won’t be joining him.”
April frowned. “Morbid.”
“Not from Vivian’s perspective. Until Arthur, she had all the money in the world, but little happiness. She’s outlived all four of her husbands. The oldest of her sons died when he was a young man. She’s been estranged from her other two since they were old enough to get away, and she’s spent the last several years trying to restore a relationship with them. Not having much success, I’m afraid. All of her grandchildren get on with her, but her own sons still don’t want anything to do with her.”
So Squire wasn’t the only one who wasn’t in a forgiving mood when it came to Vivian. “She sounds...interesting.”
Jane chuckled. “I think she’s pretty entertaining, actually. She’s trying to be a better person. Personally, I think that’s something to admire.”
“You don’t have to work with her,” Nick said with feeling.
“Hey.” Megan had left the pool tables momentarily. “What time is Easter dinner over at Uncle Jefferson’s?”
“Two o’clock.” The answer was more a chorus of responses. The whole family was going to be there.
Megan huffed. “Why couldn’t they just do it right after church? It’s gonna take up the whole day.”
“It’s Easter,” Sarah reminded evenly. “It’s a time for family.” Her gaze traveled past her daughter. “Your new friends can wait.”
The young woman rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, sashaying back to the pool tables.
Sarah sighed noisily.
“April, I imagine Kenneth will be happy when you get back to Denver.” That was from Lucy in an obvious attempt to change the focus.
“Don’t think so,” she answered absently. Jed had moved away from the bar and was making his way around the tables. And that flittering inside her reappeared. “He was getting too serious for me. We broke up a few weeks ago.” Her eye
s caught on Jed’s face but he did nothing more than glance her way as he passed right by, going out the exit.
“Know him?”
April looked from the door swinging closed to Jane. “Sorry?”
“Do you know Jed?”
“Do you?”
“He comes in now and then. More often this time of year. You know how the winter gets to people.”
April waited, sure there was more. “And?”
Jane shrugged. “And nothing. He lives up on the Rambling. Know he isn’t a drinker. Orders a double. Doesn’t drink a drop. That’s about it. He’s not very talkative.”
“I heard he’s from Chicago,” someone offered.
“Thought it was Atlanta,” someone else said.
“It doesn’t matter to me where he comes from,” April said. She looked beyond Nick’s shoulder toward the exit. “As long as he doesn’t get in my way.”
“What does my beloved ex plan to do with the mountain if he succeeds?”
April lifted her hands. “You know Gage. Make use of as much of the mountain as he can.”
“Well, at least we can trust him to be responsible with it,” Jane said.
“If he gets it,” April cautioned. “Right now, it’s not exactly looking likely. I’ve tried twice to meet with Mr. Lambert and haven’t managed it yet. Parked myself right on his front porch for an hour this afternoon but he never answered the door.”
“He’s a stubborn one all right,” Courtney said.
Surprised, April looked down the table. “You’ve met him?”
Courtney nodded. “Once.” But she didn’t say anything more. April could only assume it had something to do with the old man’s health. Her cousin was a nurse at the hospital, after all.
“So what happened with Kenneth?”
April looked at Nick. It was absurdly difficult pulling her thoughts away from Jed and Otis. “Kenneth? Right. Yeah. He proposed. We broke up.” She suddenly pushed out of her chair. “I’ll be back.”
She grabbed her jacket and hurried out the door. It was already dark outside but the old-fashioned lampposts lining Main gave enough light to see along the street. She didn’t see Jed, though. Not when she walked to the end of the building. Then back again.
Disappointed, she sank down on the iron bench outside of the grill and slowly pulled on her jacket. She exhaled deeply and stretched out her legs, crossing her boots at the ankle. From inside the bar behind her, she could hear the faint pulse of country music. From the dusty pickup truck driving slowly down the street, she could hear the louder pulse of classic rock. She looked in the opposite direction and could see the mountainous peak of the Rambling, a dark shadow against the sky.
“What are you really doing up there, Otis? Is it just a mistake? Or some game you’re playing?”
“It’s no game.”
She jerked, sitting upright. “Jed. Where’d you come from?”
He jerked his thumb and she looked across the street.
“The park?”
“Is that surprising for some reason?”
She pressed her lips together. Shook her head while she curled her fingers around the cold metal seat beneath her. “It’s a nice park. The town square,” she finally said. “I had my first kiss under the gazebo in the park when I was thirteen.”
His only response was to tuck the tips of his fingers in the front pockets of his jeans.
She let out a breath, feeling idiotic. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“Is it true?”
“Yes.”
“Who was the kisser?”
“Just a boy.”
“Kenneth?”
She gaped. “Your hearing must be very good.”
His lips compressed and he looked across the street toward the park and the gazebo that was a shadowy monolith in its own smaller way. “First girl I kissed was named Tanya.”
The name itself wasn’t what shocked her. The fact that he’d offered the information at all was.
She moistened her lips. “Um...his name was Scotty. Scott. He was a friend from summer camp.”
“And Kenneth?”
She narrowed her eyes, studying his face. His eyebrows were dark and level. The equally dark eyes were impossible to read. He had a small white scar near the corner of his unsmiling mouth. And as usual, he seemed impervious to the cold air, wearing merely a long-sleeved T-shirt with his jeans while everyone else wore jackets and thick sweaters.
“That’s actually none of your business,” she finally said. “Are you impervious to the cold? It’s freezing out here.”
“It’ll get colder. Storm is coming.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He shrugged.
She exhaled, struggling against impatience. “Is the reason your boss hasn’t met with me because he’s too sick? Frail?”
“That’s actually none of your business.”
“A deal with Stanton might help him.”
Jed just looked at her and she felt that weird fluttering start up again. “You know,” she added hurriedly. “We’re talking significant money. That goes a long way for treatments. Or medicine. Whatever he needs.”
“You think he doesn’t know that?”
She swallowed and rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans as she rose. Remaining seated while he stood was just too much of a disadvantage. “I don’t know what he knows, do I? Having not had an opportunity to actually speak with him.” She crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously. “Are you preventing him from having visitors?”
He gave a snort that sounded genuinely amused. “You seem to be under the delusion that I can control anything where Otis is concerned. The man does what he wants, Miss Reed.”
She spread her arms. “Oh, come on. It’s still Friday evening. Can’t we dispense with that? I mean, you know my romantic history now,” she said lightly. “I know yours.”
His dark eyes seemed to go even darker. “No.” He pulled his fingers from his pockets. “You don’t.” He started to walk away but stopped after a few feet. “Come tomorrow around three.” His voice was low. Gruff. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She nodded, because she was too surprised to actually get out a word.
Then, he was gone, disappearing around the corner of Colbys.
She ought to feel some sense of success. But all she felt was bewildered.
“Hey, April.” Nick stuck his head out of the door. “You all right?”
She nodded. “Needed some fresh air.”
He looked concerned. “You rushed out after I mentioned Kenneth.” He made a face. “And all that. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.”
He was obviously unconvinced. “You’re sure?”
She tucked her arm through his. “Honestly.”
“Then come back in. I’m feeling outnumbered by females.”
“You know, I am a female, too.”
“Eh.” Nick made a face. “I s’pose.”
“Like I said. Charming as ever, Nick.”
“That’s me. Nick Charming.”
She laughed and headed back into the warm, bustling bar, determined to leave thoughts of Jed Not-Charming out in the cold where he belonged.
Chapter Four
“She won’t come,” Otis said. “Rain’s on the way. Only fools would drive up in the rain.”
Jed stirred up sparks in the woodstove and tossed in another log. He shut the door and adjusted the air intake to make sure the flame took. Just because he always ran hot, didn’t mean Otis did, and the woodstove was the only source of heat in the cabin.
“Sick o’ winter,” he muttered, straightening from his crouch.
Otis laughed, though it was at least 70 percent cough. “You picked a bad place to live then,” he wheezed. “In a plac
e where winter can use up three of the four seasons.”
“Didn’t pick Wyoming.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and rolled up his sleeves as he moved to the window. “Picked me, if you remember.” More accurately, Otis had picked him.
Literally off the floor of a bar in Texas. Out of the bottle and the drugs. Away from anything and everything that Jed had used to forget the past. To forget everything and everyone he’d lost.
If it weren’t for Otis, Jed would probably be dead. Or still wishing he were.
He still kept the past at bay. Now he just did it working a small herd of cattle on the side of a mountain, where one misstep could be the difference between life and death.
The thick clouds hanging around the mountain obscured the view of the town far below. Visibility driving up there would be particularly bad.
He’d told her to come at three because that was usually the time that Otis was awake between naps. When he’d have enough energy and appetite to swallow down some stew or, if it was a really good day, some eggs or even a few bites of steak.
It was only two o’clock now. He hoped to hell the redhead had the good sense not to come up the mountain. Not in this weather.
He looked over at Otis. He doubted the man had ever been built like a bear. More like a wily fox. In the five years since Jed had been with him, the fox had withered. Weakened.
The wily, though?
Jed wasn’t putting any bets on that trait diminishing at all.
“What did you do with that business card she left the other day?”
“Tossed it.”
Jed gave him a look.
Otis rubbed his hand over the sparse white whiskers sprouting unevenly over his bony jaw. “Don’t recall.”
He raised his eyebrow.
The old man sighed noisily. He lifted one of the library books that Jed kept him supplied with and pulled the card from inside the pages.
Jed took it and went into the kitchen. There was one phone on the mountain and it was straight out of another era. Heavy black plastic with a rotary dial and a long curly cord.
He dialed the number that April had written on the back of the business card, but the line went straight to voice mail. Common occurrence when it came to calling cell phones. Even more so when there was a storm brewing.
A Promise To Keep (Return To The Double C Book 16) Page 4