Something About Ewe

2

SHEPHERD’S PASS HAD GROWN in the years Thalia had been away. Her mother’s home and property used to be at the edge of town, with nothing between it and the mountains. Now it was necessary to drive through an upscale planned community of new homes—Shangri-la, according to the signs—to even get there.

Nice homes, she thought, navigating slowly along curving landscaped streets. Decent-sized lots, too, at least by California standards, where a postage-stamp-sized property was often labeled an “estate.” Where were all these people coming from? Would life in this formerly slow paced community be forever altered?

Speaking of altered—

A car stood at the curb next to her mother’s driveway. Luke leaned out an open window of the red Jeep Cherokee to wave. Surely he didn’t intend to hang around and taunt her while she was home. If he did, she just might have to alter her plans and go back to California early, even if it meant ignoring her mother’s pleas.

She no longer wanted a thing from Luke Dalton, and most definitely not what she’d wanted before. She’d been young and foolish then. Now, she was…well, not old at twenty-seven but certainly seasoned. There was nothing left for him to teach her.

She shivered at the possibility she might be wrong.

Parking her mother’s old pickup truck in the driveway, she climbed out and waited for him to join her. No complications, she reminded herself. She was a serious person with a serious life and a serious plan for leading it. She was not interested in a quick tumble with every good-looking man she met—check that.

She might be interested; what woman in her right mind wouldn’t be? But she wouldn’t act on that interest, no way, no how. She was not a woman who’d consider a cheap affair, no matter how attractive—

Oh, my. Luke gave new meaning to the word attractive. Tall and lean and lithe, he strode toward her, the lowering sun striking blond sparks off his brown hair. When he grinned, even white teeth flashed.

“You waited for me,” he said.

She shook herself free of her imagination. “I didn’t. I—”

I—nothing; she had waited and he hadn’t even had to ask. Spinning around, she led the way up the steps of the big old Victorian house. Flinging open the door, she indicated with a wave that he should enter first.

You’d think a serious person like Thalia would have a serious mother. Instead, she had Lorraine, who now looked up from the free weights she was swinging with abandon, a broad smile of welcome on her crimson lips.

“YOU BROUGHT LUKE HOME with you,” Lorraine exclaimed with pleasure. “That’s wonderful!”

Luke didn’t think Thalia considered it all that wonderful. He looked from mother to daughter, trying to suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. Lorraine must have been a trial to Thalia her entire life, but he’d have given anything to have a mother with hair like Lucille Ball’s and a bawdy humor that made him grin just thinking about it.

At the moment, Lorraine was working with barbells. A black headband held back a tumble of red-gold curls and her ample figure was barely constrained by a black leotard and tights. Her cheeks glowed; she looked healthy and happy.

Thalia kissed her mother’s proffered cheek. “I didn’t bring Luke home, Mother, he brought himself.”

Lorraine put the barbells on the floor. “Regardless of how he got here, I’m glad to see him. I’ve got a cookie jar just stuffed full of those chocolate chip cookies he and John used to gobble up.” She turned toward the kitchen, waving them to follow. “Come along, kids. Mother Lorraine will spoil your suppers for you.”

As she’d been doing as long as Luke could remember. It used to piss his own mother off something awful when he’d pick at his food after a visit to the Myers house. Still would.

Thalia was dragging her feet. “I think I’ll pass on the cookies and go on upstairs,” she said. “It’s awfully close to dinnertime and—”

“Thalia Renee, you get yourself in this kitchen,” Lorraine said without slowing her pace. “This may be your supper, young lady.”

Trying not to grin too broadly, Luke pulled out a chair at the table in the middle of the big old-fashioned kitchen. Thalia and Lorraine couldn’t be more different and yet he liked them both. His mother had told him once that Thalia was more like her father, who had died young. Best buddy John, on the other hand, was a lot like his mother: funny and daring and ready for anything.

Lorraine plunked a dinner plate piled high with cookies on the table and went to get glasses, talking a mile a minute about everything from the weather to the stock market.

When she paused for breath, Luke said, “So what’s new with John?”

“He’s still in Chicago working for that Internet start-up company, still has the same wife and kid, still likes it. He’s going to try to get home while Thalia’s here but it’s iffy with his workload.”

Luke picked up a chocolate-studded round. “I’d sure like to see him one of these days.”

Thalia said, “Me, too. Fortunately, his company sends him to California now and then, so we get together there.”

“You like California, do you?” Luke pulled one of the three tall glasses of milk close enough so he could dunk his cookie. Biting into it, he closed his eyes in ecstasy. Lorraine was probably the best cookie baker in Shepherd’s Pass, with the possible exception of Emily. He couldn’t think of anything else Lorraine could cook worth diddly, but her cookies were first-rate.

He chewed blissfully for a moment, only belatedly realizing Thalia hadn’t answered his question. Opening his eyes, he saw her looking down at the cookie in her hands, her expression closed.

Before he could repeat his query, Lorraine spoke up.

“Of course, she doesn’t like California. What’s to like? All those people, all those cars, all those freeways, all that smog? She’s only living there because she’s stubborn.”

“Oh, Mother.” Thalia put down her cookie. “My life is there. I have an apartment, friends—”

“An ex-husband,” Lorraine informed Luke. “Sometimes I think she’s still carrying the torch for Don.”

“No way.” Thalia’s denial sounded heartfelt. “We tried and now it’s over. We’ve both moved on.”

“Better you should move back—back home to Colorado,” Lorraine said. “Like Luke did.” She swung her attention his way. “You’re glad to be back, right?”

“Of course, but I’m not glad to be living at home.” He grimaced. “Mom was dead set on it, and since Dad had only been gone a few months when I got here…” He shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but boy, have I lived to regret it. I’m planning to get my own place as soon as I have time to look.”

Thalia’s tight expression relaxed into sympathy. “I was sorry to hear about your dad’s death.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It was quite a shock to all of us, but we’re getting along.” Not that it had been easy. Just digging through his father’s far-flung business interests had been a chore in and of itself. Then there was the shock of realizing just how big the estate was. If money could buy happiness, his mother would be a very happy woman, indeed.

Instead of what she was: miserable.

Lorraine reached for a cookie. “You haven’t seen his mother’s new house, have you,” she said to her daughter.

“No.”

“It’s at the end of this road,” Lorraine said darkly. “It’s a darned mansion, is what it is. Of course, it was the Daltons who sold all that land to the developer for Shangri-la. They tried to buy my measly little five acres, and when I wouldn’t sell, they just built around me like I was a tree stump in the middle of a road.”

Thalia glanced questioningly at Luke, who nodded.

“That’s pretty much how it happened,” he agreed. “But it’s not like your mom’s stubborn or anything, or like they didn’t offer her ten times what this land is worth.”

Lorraine burst out laughing. “Oh, you!” she said affectionately. “Thalia’s on my side no matter what you say.”

“I certainly am,” Thalia agreed.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “so am I. You’ve got a great place here, Mrs. Myers. It’s eccentric, like its owner. I like that in my houses and in my women.” He winked broadly.

Lorraine looked pleased; Thalia merely looked annoyed.

“Really, Luke,” she said, “aren’t you ever serious?”

“Of course. I’m serious now.” And he was. He did like eccentric people, people who did the unexpected and did it with flair. Like Thalia herself on that long-ago day, when she’d done her much-too-young best to seduce him. What he wouldn’t give to have her try that again!

Damn, she needed something to loosen her up. If he didn’t know what she was capable of, he wouldn’t give a second thought to the buttoned-up woman with the disapproving air. Even if she was beautiful. Even if she did occasionally slip and let genuine emotion show on her face.

Ah, hell, maybe he would.

A banging on the front door defused the increasingly taut moment. Lorraine frowned.

“Who the heck could that be?” Rising, she left the room.

Luke waited until she was gone and then said, “You’ve got a heck of a mother there.”

“Don’t I know it.” That could be the first genuine smile he’d seen so far on Thalia’s smooth face.

“Didn’t you ever want to be like her?”

She looked astonished. “Good heavens, no. I love her, but she’s so out of control.”

“And you don’t like that.”

“You know I don’t. I like things neat and tidy.”

“And predictable.”

“That, too.” Her chin lifted. “There’s nothing wrong with predictable.”

“There’s everything wrong with it, Thalia. It’s…it’s limiting.”

“It’s reliable.”

“It’s boring.”

“I could take that personally,” she snapped.

“Everything I’ve said to you is personal,” he agreed. “I—”

Raised voices from the living room intruded. Both of them knew immediately that his mother, Sylvia Dalton, had arrived.

SYLVIA AND LORRAINE MIXED like oil and water, always had and probably always would. Thalia could imagine them as wizened little old ladies—one silver-haired, one orange-haired—sitting side by side in their wheelchairs at some senior citizens home sniping at each other night and day.

Nevertheless, Sylvia had always been nice to Thalia, who jumped up to greet the newcomer. She couldn’t imagine why Luke’s mother was here, but it couldn’t possibly be good.

“Thalia! Darling.” Silvery-blond Sylvia gave Thalia a big hug. Whoever said a woman couldn’t be too blond or too thin or too rich was probably thinking of Sylvia.

“Hello, Mrs. Dalton. It’s good to see you.”

Sylvia straightened and turned. “There you are, Lucas. I saw your car outside and wondered if something was wrong.”

Luke looked as if he considered this a pretty feeble attempt at an explanation. “Nothing’s wrong that I know of.” He looked at Lorraine and daughter. “Anything wrong?”

“Not a thing.” Lorraine glowered. She didn’t look as if she liked having her archenemy invading her turf. The next words seemed dragged out of her. “We’re having cookies and milk if you’d care to join us, Syl.”

Sylvia’s nostrils flared at the casual use of a nickname no one else had uttered in decades. She got revenge by saying, “Don’t mind if I do, Rainy.”

Lorraine rolled her eyes but said nothing, just led the way back to the kitchen. Sylvia fell in behind her while Thalia and Luke exchanged dubious glances before following.

Sylvia sat down and looked at the plate of cookies with disapproval. “I cannot tell you how many of my son’s meals were ruined in this house by cookies and milk,” she announced. “I held you personally responsible, Lorraine.”

“Good reasoning.” Luke picked up another cookie, his third or fourth. “She used to tie me to a kitchen chair and jam cookies down my throat. It was hell.”

Lorraine let out that raucous laughter. “Yes, and everyone can see how it stunted his growth. I think you should call the nutrition police, Sylvia.”

“I would, if I thought it would do any good.”

Luke pushed the plate toward his mother. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, Ma.”

She picked up a cookie, pointedly using her thumb and one exaggerated finger. “I don’t believe I can eat this without something to wash it down.”

“Milk?” Thalia jumped up, eager to avoid further dissension.

“I don’t suppose there’s coffee made.” Sylvia said it as if it were a test for gracious living.

“Darn it, Syl!” Lorraine grimaced. “I am not going to make a whole pot of coffee just for you and end up tossing most of it away. There might be a little left over from breakfast in the carafe, but—”

“Never mind.” Sylvia gave a condescending sigh. “A glass of water will be sufficient.” She tore off a crumb and lifted it to her mouth as if suspecting it of containing hemlock.

Thalia pulled a small bottle of water from the refrigerator and offered it hopefully. Lorraine watched impatiently for about thirty seconds before she burst out, “Okay, out with it, Syl. What are you doing here?”

“I can’t drop by to visit a neighbor?” Sylvia countered.

“You ask me that after forty years’ worth of cold shoulders?”

“It isn’t forty. More like thirty-five.”

Lorraine appealed to the gallery. “She’s quibbling.”

“No, seriously.” Sylvia leaned forward. “Lorraine, I must speak to you about Shangri-la number two.”

Lorraine caught her breath sharply. “There is no Shangri-la number two.”

“But there will be, if you’ll stop trying to rouse the populace against it.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“But Rainy, you know it’ll benefit the community, and the land will eventually be developed anyway. In fact—” Sylvia’s voice dropped, became confidential “—the developer has agreed to raise his offer for this little ol’ plot of land of yours. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with what he—”

“Out!” Lorraine rose in all her leotard-and-tights-clad dignity. Her red-gold curls quivered with indignation. “Out of my house! If you have intruded into the sanctity of my home to insult me with another pathetic offer when I’ve already made my feelings perfectly clear—”

“Mother!” Thalia tugged at Lorraine’s elbow. “You’re going overboard. Mrs. Dalton didn’t insult you.”

“But I will now.” Sylvia also rose, regal in her classic designer suit. “I don’t know why I waste my breath. There’s no reasoning with an unreasonable person.”

“Out!” Lorraine’s pointing arm quivered.

“I’m going. Lucas, come along.”

“Not yet, Mother.”

“You’d side against your own flesh and blood?” She looked horrified.

“I’m not siding with anyone. I came to check out Lorraine’s dog and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Fine.” She lifted her chin still higher. “I’ll expect you for dinner at seven.”

“I may not be hungry after all these cookies.”

“Lucas! I will expect you for dinner at seven.”

“Yeah, right, whatever.”

Sylvia marched to the kitchen door, then spun around to glare at Lorraine. “I am assuming this altercation will not affect Saturday.”

Thalia frowned. “What’s Saturday?”

“Lucas’s birthday party,” Sylvia said grandly. “Lorraine’s Pretty Posies is providing flowers and decorating for a pool party. Or was.” She gave her nemesis an accusing look. “Are you still?”

Lorraine’s jaw tightened. “Certainly, I am. That’s business. This is personal.”

“Then I expect you to have everything there at noon and don’t screw this up!” Sylvia turned and marched out of the room and the house.

Lorraine stood as stiff as a poker until the front door slammed. Then she closed her eyes, clenched her hands into fists and said, “Ohh! That woman makes me crazy.”

“It’s mutual, Mother,” Thalia assured her. “You two go at each other like junior high kids.”

“Maybe because that’s when it started,” Lorraine snapped. “Well, my supper’s ruined. Excuse me. I’ve got to go change.”

Alone, Luke and Thalia looked at each other in mutual puzzlement.

“What do you suppose started this feud?” she wondered aloud. “It seems to grow worse with time, not better.”

“They may not even remember themselves.”

“That’s certainly possible. Your mother’s always been really nice to me.”

“Your mother’s been nice to me, too. In fact, she’s one of my favorite people.”

The corners of her mouth curved down. “I suppose you think I should be more like her,” she accused.

He surprised her.

“Nope, I’d like you to be more like yourself, Thalia. I don’t believe you’re the uptight pulled-together person you’re trying so hard to convince yourself you are. In fact—” he leaned across the table, his gaze locking with hers “—I think the real you is the person who conceived what is probably the only wild and crazy thing you’ve ever done in your life.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean.”

“I certainly do.” Thrusting his hand around her neck, he yanked her forward and planted a quick, hard kiss on her unprepared lips. “I saw the real you—literally—for about two seconds. Because I didn’t lose my head and ravish you on the spot, you seem to think it was a disgraceful episode best forgotten. I don’t happen to agree. I think it was a glorious episode I’d like to repeat at the first possible moment—and this time, no backing away.”

Releasing her, he straightened. She stared at him, stunned, her lips tingling. She wanted to press her fingertips to her mouth but didn’t want him to guess how much he’d affected her—annoyed her!

“So where’s Reckless?” he asked.

“R-Reckless who?”

He laughed. “Reckless, the dog.”

“The dog?” She had to shake this off—without shaking, of course.

His smile teased her. “Reckless…the…dog,” he said with slow emphasis. “Remember? I am making a house call.”

“Oh, good grief.” Flustered and on the defensive, she jumped up. “He must be out back. I’ll call him in.”

“I can go where he is. Come along.”

“Me?” She backed away.

“What if he tried to bite me?”

“Reckless doesn’t bite.”

“What if I need help?”

“You can always call for—”

“What if I just like your company?”

She had no answer to that. Rising, she followed him out the back door.

“THAT’S A GOOD BOY. You’ve been real patient with me.” Luke ruffled the dog’s silky black hair and got a mournful look in return. He glanced at Thalia and frowned. “I don’t like this,” he said.

“You don’t like what?”

“I saw Reckless last week for a sore paw. The paw’s cleared up just fine and I can’t see anything else obviously wrong with him. Beyond the fact that he’s too thin and just not real perky.”

She knelt in the grass beside Luke, her expression concerned. “Is he sick?”

“I don’t think so. But just to be on the safe side, you or Lorraine might like to bring him by the clinic next week for some lab work. Maybe I missed something.” Or misinterpreted something, he thought, because something was bothering this dog.

She pulled back visibly. “I’ll tell Mother.”

“Tell Mother what?” Lorraine walked down the steps to join them. She’d changed into jeans and a sweatshirt with lettering across the chest that read Shangri-la It Ain’t!

“I’m a little worried about your dog,” Luke explained. He stood, Thalia rising with him. Reckless didn’t move, just sat there looking, brown eyebrows on his black face giving him a sad expression.

Lorraine frowned. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m not sure.”

“He has been a little peaked lately.” She cocked her head and frowned at the dog sternly. “Reckless, what’s your problem?”

The old dog pulled himself up and walked over to her, his feathery tail moving slowly and without enthusiasm. She leaned down to stroke his head.

“How long have you had this dog?” Luke asked.

“A couple of years. I had a friend—a rancher—who sold out and was moving to Denver. I’d just lost Geezer—you remember him, Luke.”

He nodded. That mutt must have been at least fifteen years old.

“Anyway, I had the room here.” She gestured to the rolling, pine-studded land beyond the open gate. “I also like Border collies, although I’ve never had one before. I was happy to take Reckless in, and he seemed to settle in just fine. But lately—” she frowned “—it seems like Reckless is aging right before my eyes.”