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Winter nodded. “We saw the poster at the bar.”
“We weren’t in the bar,” Jake quickly assured them.
“I was,” Winter said. “I needed to make use of the facilities.”
The old man frowned. “What?”
“She talks like that sometimes,” Jake told him.
Jerry wondered if severe psychological issues manifested as speaking with a British accent. Maybe the child had different personalities, like Sybil in that movie he’d seen when he was a kid. Jerry shuddered.
Jake scanned the crowd. “Is Sam here?”
“He’ll be up at the main house with Lucia getting the food ready,” Jerry said. “She and Marie Swallow are organizing the potluck in the tent.”
“I’ll check there. Thanks.”
“It’s the big white Victorian,” Jerry added. “You passed it when you walked in, and of course, you’ll have seen the reception tent. It’s almost as big as the barn.”
“Thanks.” Jake put his hand on Winter’s shoulder. “We’ll head over there.”
“How long are you going to be in town?”
“I’m not sure. We’re on our way home. To Nashville.”
“That’s quite a drive,” Jerry said, glancing toward the child again. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Willing. We have a lot of things going on in town right now, with the television show about to air.”
“Television show?” Now that caught the girl’s interest.
Jerry nodded. “Oh, yeah. We’re about to become famous. Your uncle can tell you all about it. He was at most of the filming.”
“But I thought he makes documentaries,” Winter said. “In South America.” She turned to her father. “You didn’t tell me he filmed a show here.”
“I didn’t know,” her father said. “We didn’t talk very long and—”
“Oh, this wasn’t one of Sam’s fishing films. This had nothing to do with him. Ours was a reality show,” Jerry explained. “We took twenty-four of our most eligible men here in town and created a dating show.”
“Willing to Wed?” Jake grinned.
“Yes! You’ve heard of it?” The money spent on publicity was paying off already.
“A woman at your local bar told us about it.”
“Tall? Silver hair? Attitude?”
Jake grinned. “Yes.”
“Watch out,” he warned. “That’s Aurora Jones. She can emasculate you with one look. The woman makes my life miserable.”
“You’re, uh, involved?”
“No! There isn’t a man in town who would take her on.” He looked around the room, half expecting Aurora would pop out from behind a flower-covered post and badger him about her building permit again. “We have a professional relationship.”
“I thought she was nice.” Winter glared at him as if he’d just said Cinderella was an evil witch who stepped on mice and punched princes.
“I suppose she can be,” he offered. “When she wants to.”
Les’s grandfather leaned forward. “Did you see the grizzly bear inside the Dahl?”
Winter nodded. “It was a grizzly bear?”
The old man nodded. “Owen MacGregor’s grandfather shot that bear and had it mounted for the Dahl. There are some people around here who think a grizzly would be easier to get along with than Aurora Jones.”
“I beg your pardon,” Winter said. “But I must disagree.”
“So does my wife,” the old man declared. “She says she’s clever with a needle.”
“What does that mean, ‘clever with a needle’?”
“Quilting,” he explained. “The women around here spend hours cutting up fabric and sewing it back together.”
“I think we’ll go find my brother now,” Jake said, urging the child toward the door.
“Watch out. Aurora’s probably gone back to the kitchen with the rest of them.”
“The kitchen?” Mike Peterson, standing nearby, chuckled. “I hope she didn’t cook anything.”
“She didn’t,” Les assured him. “She donated the champagne instead.”
“Well, good,” Jerry muttered. “We won’t need the Red Cross tomorrow.”
* * *
ALL HE’D WANTED to do was find his brother. That’s all. He had Sam’s phone number. He had his address. Who would have thought an entire town would be closed for business on an April Sunday afternoon?
Now he was at a stranger’s wedding, on a ranch, in the middle of nowhere. He’d met the mayor and some of the locals and seen for himself the historic MacGregor Ranch. But he wanted to see Sam. Ten years was a long time. Ten years was pretty stupid.
“Brigadoon, that’s what this is,” his daughter said, following him out of the barn and into the sunshine. “Have you ever seen that movie?”
“No.” He started along a gravel path toward the main house, easily sixty yards away. A large addition jutted out from the back of the house, where a door was propped open.
“That’s where we are,” she said, hurrying to keep up. “In a land that time forgot.”
“You’re mixing up your movies. I saw The Land That Time Forgot.” Women kept disappearing into that opened door, which meant that’s where the food was.
“No, Brigadoon is when two people end up in a town where it’s two or three hundred years—well, a long time—ago, only it’s not. It’s modern day, but they’re not, you know, modern.” She looked back at the barn. “Do you think they’ll square-dance?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve never heard of square dancing?”
“I’ve heard of square dancing,” he said, taking a deep breath as they approached the open door. Two laughing older women carrying casseroles stepped out. Jake said a silent prayer for patience. He was nervous, he realized. And that realization sent another stab of nerves into his belly. Guilt, fear and excitement warred for space in his chest. Jake didn’t often feel nervous, and he sure as heck didn’t like the feeling.
His life had changed beyond recognition recently, and he wasn’t sure he liked it all that much.
His guilt flared up again. He should have known Merry was up to something when she’d insisted on an annulment, a quick one. She was off to Europe, she wouldn’t meet with him and she hired a lawyer to handle the situation so Jake wouldn’t have to bother.
He’d been on tour, having gotten a job playing rhythm guitar in a band opening for Faith and Tim. His big break. He’d felt nothing for Merry but relief when she was gone.
“Tomorrow,” his suddenly talkative daughter continued, “this place could be enveloped in a mysterious mist and we’ll all disappear. Maybe we should escape while we can.”
Jake thought he might prefer to talk about Downton Abbey. “Do you really think Lady Mary will marry again?”
Winter giggled. That was a first. Jake stopped walking in order to see it for himself. The child looked younger when she smiled. “You look so funny,” she said. “And you don’t know who Lady Mary is!”
“Oh, yes, I do,” he grumbled, just to keep her smiling. “You talked about her all the way from Seattle to Spokane. She’s the oldest sister and she was supposed to inherit Downton Abbey but— What?”
Winter pointed to the door. “There she is!”
“Who?”
“The lady from the bar. See?”
Oh, he saw, all right. She would be hard to miss, Jake thought. Once again he realized that she was easily one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, with the kind of beauty that should be on magazine covers, except she wasn’t a bone-thin model. The dress hugged her curvaceous body in all the right places, yet floated around her legs to give her room to dance. In his experience playing in about five thousand bars, the women wearing floaty skirts always intended to dance.
The yellow boots were sexy as all get out, too.
And then there was the hair, platinum waves that fell well past her shoulders. She’d pinned back the sides, exposing a face that would be considered angelic, except that Mayor Jerry had warned him that she was anything but.
And he’d experienced her brusque manner himself, though she’d been kind to Winter and protective of her friends’ privacy.
An interesting woman.
Not his type.
The interesting woman who was not his type saw Winter and smiled, then looked at Jake. Her smile collapsed as they approached.
“You found it,” she said, not sounding the least bit happy to see them.
“We did. I was told Sam might be over here.” He gestured toward the door.
“He’s inside.” She hesitated. “Be careful.”
“Of what?”
“People carrying food. We’re setting up dinner in the tent. The bride and groom are having their pictures taken in front of the house and by the barn. When they’re done, we’ll eat.”
“I won’t keep Sam long,” Jake promised.
“Meg said you’re welcome to stay and enjoy the party.” She turned to Winter. “And you, too, of course. Lucia and Sam are really looking forward to meeting you.”
“I’ve never had an uncle before,” Winter confided.
“You’ll have three cousins after he gets married,” Aurora pointed out.
“He’s getting married?” This was news to Jake. All Sam had said over the phone was I’ve met someone. Someone special.
She stared at him. “He didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t know it was official,” he bluffed.
“Hmm.”
“Well,” he said, attempting to move past her and go into the kitchen. “We have a lot of catching up to do. If you’ll excuse me....”
“Three cousins,” Winter repeated. “How old? Boys or girls?”
“Boys,” Aurora replied. “Younger than you.”
“Oh.” She didn’t bother to hide her disappointment.
“They’re not all that bad,” Aurora assured her. “And you’ll like your future aunt. Come on, then. I’ll help you find them.”
With that, they were ushered inside a large room set up like a dining hall. One part of the room held worn tables and benches, while the other was a large old-fashioned kitchen.
“I told you,” Winter muttered. “It’s like a hundred years ago.”
“How would you know?” He was curious; after all, she’d spent her life in Europe and he wouldn’t expect her to know a lot of American history.
“I’ve seen Westerns,” she told her father. “This is where the cowboys eat.”
“You’re right,” Aurora said. “This is the summer kitchen.”
The summer kitchen was filled with very busy women organizing platters of food. But in the middle of all the activity was a tall, dark-haired man who hurried through the crowd toward him.
Sam.
Jake swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. His little brother looked good. They shook hands and stood there for a moment, not sure what to do. Then they embraced. It could have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was reassuring. Sam seemed glad to see him.
“What’s it been,” Jake’s younger brother asked, “ten years?”
“Something like that,” he replied. “I was performing in that show in Miami.”
“And I was coming back from Brazil.”
They grinned at each other.
“Ten years?” A petite black-haired woman hurried up to Sam’s side and smiled as she tucked her arm through his. “Shame on both of you!”
“I’d like you to meet my fiancée,” Sam announced. “Lucia Swallow.”
She released Sam and gave Jake a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I am, too,” he replied, and put his hand on Winter’s shoulder. “My daughter, Winter. Winter, meet your uncle Sam and...Ms. Swallow.”
“Aunt Lucia,” Lucia corrected, giving Winter a hug. “I’ve never had a niece before.”
Sam shook Winter’s hand and grinned. “And now I’m an uncle. I didn’t know that until a little while ago. I’m really glad to meet you.”
“Thank you. I’m a bit of a surprise,” she informed them. “Jake didn’t know about me, either.”
Sam looked at Jake, with an expression that said we have a lot to catch up on. Jake nodded. He saw Lucia glance at Aurora, who had watched the family reunion with undisguised curiosity.
“You need to meet my sons,” Lucia said to Winter. “They’re with my mother. They’ll be so excited to know they have a cousin.”
“Stepcousin,” Winter corrected her, the familiar serious expression on her face. “I’m only a stepcousin.”
“That’s good enough,” Aurora said, joining the conversation. “You’re still part of the family, aren’t you?”
Winter considered that. “I suppose that’s true.”
“You’re very fortunate,” Aurora continued. “I don’t even have stepcousins.”
“You don’t?”
The silver-haired woman shrugged. “Not a one. No uncles, aunts or anyone else.”
“Like me,” Winter said.
Aurora shook her head. “No, you’re in much better shape.”
Jake thought the whole conversation was strange, but his daughter gave Aurora a quick smile.
“Come with me,” Sam said. “We’re going to track down the kids for Aunt Lucia and introduce you.”
“I hear you’re getting married?” Jake said casually.
“Yeah.” Sam glanced at Lucia and smiled as they left the two women standing there. “She’s made me settle down.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“It was time,” his brother declared, but he looked happy about it.
Jake wasn’t sure if settling down was anything to celebrate, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
CHAPTER THREE
“WOW.”
“Yes,” Aurora said, watching the two men guide the child around the women organizing food onto platters. “Wow.”
“He’s famous, you know,” Lucia said. “He was in some big country-western band years ago. Sam said they toured with Faith Hill and Tim McGraw.”
Aurora wasn’t impressed, but she tried to look as if she was. She knew little of country music and much preferred classical. All that wailing about trucks and beer didn’t do anything for her.
“And now,” Lucia continued, “he turns up here with a daughter.”
“I thought something was strange about it,” Aurora confessed. “I even asked Winter if she was all right. I thought she might have been kidnapped or something.”
Lucia turned to look at her, eyes wide. “How do you think of these things? I guess you do have a dark side we don’t know about.”
“I do.” She sighed.
“But it was good of you to check,” her friend said. “Just in case.”
“I sensed something was a bit off,” she explained. “And I was right. She doesn’t know him, and now he’s her father? I feel bad for the kid.”
“What kid?” Owen put an arm around each woman. He was gorgeous in a black suit, a white shirt and a gold and ebony tie. “Who do you feel bad for?”
“Hi, Ranch King,” Lucia said. “Where’s your wife?”
“Hunting down Loralee for some pictures,” he replied. “What kid do you feel sorry for?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Lucia said, “but Sam’s brother—”
“I heard he’s in town.” Owen released them to take a wheat cracker from the tray in front of them. “Does that mean we’re about to be inundated with groupies and wild musicians?”
Aurora shuddered. “I hope not.”
“A concert would be fun,” Lucia mused. “To celebrate the TV show.”
Aurora gazed at her in horror. “You’re obviously spending too much time with Jerry. It’s exactly what he’d think to do.”
Owen chuckled. “Think of the beer you’d sell.”
She laughed. “True.” Business was business, but there was something about Jake Hove that made Aurora want to run in the opposite direction. He was too good-looking, too sure of himself, too...charming. It was a facade—she was sure of it. And the daughter? The poor child seemed overwhelmed.
“Why do you feel sorry for the little girl?” Owen helped himself to a piece of cheese. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Lucia said. “We don’t know anything about it. What are you doing? We’ll be serving in a few minutes. Go out to the tent. There are appetizers there.”
“I will in a minute. I’m starving. We had to do pictures. I’m supposed to find Mrs. Hancock and drag her out of the kitchen for one last photo.”
The elderly woman had taken charge of the food immediately after the wedding ceremony. “She should be around here somewhere,” Aurora said. “Did you hire her for this?”
He laughed. “She worked for my family years ago. In fact, she was here, in this room, when I met my bride. Meg was working for her that summer.”
“That’s very romantic,” Aurora acknowledged, “but I just arranged those crackers in nice neat rows and if you touch them again I’ll have no choice but to become violent.”
His hand stopped three inches from the platter and returned to his side.
“Where’s her mother?”
Lucia shrugged. “I don’t know. I imagine Jake will tell Sam all about it as soon as he can.” She frowned as Owen hurried off to complete his assignment. Aurora assumed he’d spotted Mrs. Hancock directing the troops. “Where am I going to put them?”
“In Sam’s house?” As of two months ago, the couple had been engaged and living next door to each other. Sam had bought the neighbor’s house after mean old Mrs. Beckett was unfortunately discovered dead by Lucia’s oldest son.
“Uh-uh. The place is a disaster. Sam’s cleaning out forty years of mess—he’s rented one of those Dumpster things—and he’s made a bedroom out of the living room, but it’s not okay for company.”
“Maybe Jake could stay with Sam, in the living room, and Winter could stay with you.”
“We could do that, but I’ll bet that’s the last thing she’d want to do, share a room with one of the boys. No,” Lucia said, frowning. “I’ll see if Iris has room at her place. It’s better they stay at a nice B-and-B than have to deal with the chaos at home. Sam’s already taken part of a wall down.”
“You’re still going to put an addition between the houses?”
“Yep.” Lucia grinned. “We’re going to completely renovate Mrs. Beckett’s house and turn half of the downstairs into a professional kitchen. It will be twice as big as I have now.”
“We’ll both be remodeling at the same time,” Aurora said, pleased with herself for having arranged the sliced cheddar cheese sticks into an attractive fan. “I’m glad winter’s over.”
“Me, too.” Lucia smiled at Aurora. “Though it certainly was an exciting one.”
“Who knew Willing would become such a romantic place?”
“I’d be careful if I were you.” Lucia laughed. “You could be next. There’s romance everywhere.”
“I’ll manage to resist.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Absolutely positive.”
“I believe you,” Lucia said. “But—” Her gaze drifted past Aurora’s shoulder. “You did see Sam’s brother, right?”
“I did.”
“And he is spectacular.”
“Agreed.” The man was certainly a sight to behold. “If you like the type.”
“What is your type, Aurora?”
“I once fell in love with a skinny Frenchman,” she informed her. “But I was thirteen. He played the viola.”
“And what happened?”
“He dumped me for Renee DuBois, who played the flute.”
“And you’re permanently scarred, poor baby.” Lucia handed the finished tray to a waiting teenager. Half of the high school students in town had been hired to run food and dishes from the tent to the house to the barn and back.
“I’m not like you,” Aurora said. “All warm and kind and fluffy and loving.”
“Fluffy?”
“Cuddly,” Aurora corrected. “Men look at you and think of apple pie and cinnamon rolls and cozy nights by the fire. You’re a truly nice person and, well, I’m not.”
“Who says?”
Aurora sighed. “Most everyone in town. And I’m not cuddly.”
“No, you’re not. Which is why I like you so much.”
She couldn’t help laughing at that. “Well, at least someone around here does.”
* * *
WINTER PRETENDED SHE was in a movie. It was the only way to deal with the weird thing she found herself in. Seriously, it was just like a movie. John Wayne himself would fit right in.
Not that anyone knew who John Wayne was, except for Robbie Middlestone. She and Robbie were the only two members of the Lady Pettigrew Film Society to share a love of American Western films. She would try to text him later, if there was any chance of cell reception, to tell him she’d gone to a party on a real Montana ranch.
She walked between her uncle and her father as they made their way to the other side of the crowded room without finding her so-called cousins.
“They’ve probably gone to the tent,” Uncle Sam said.
So off the three of them went to the tent, with Uncle Sam catching Lucia’s eye and pointing to the door as they left. The black-haired woman nodded and handed a large pan to a tall teenaged boy. Winter liked her and wondered if she was part Native American. Imagine having a Native American in her “family.”
Winter was hustled back outside into the cool afternoon air. Music, something old-fashioned and country-sounding, blasted from the barn. No one was really dressed up, but everyone seemed pleased to be at the ranch.
She heard parts of conversations as they walked past clumps of people.
“—maybe that Cora gal and Pete will be next.”
“He bought that old John Deere off Lawrence Parcell, all right. Said it had a lot more years in it.”
“She told him she’d give him one last chance and then? Over. So, it’s over, as of last Friday. Her mother is furious!”
“Gonna clean it up and drive it in the parade. What about you?”
“Monday nights, I heard. Ask Jerry.”
“They won’t even consider that legislation until fall. I told him—”
“Who’s that with Sam?”
Winter knew the answer, even if she didn’t know the woman who asked the question. That’s his brother, who he hasn’t seen in years. And that’s his daughter, who he didn’t know existed. In a place like this, the information would spread quickly.
She’d heard small towns were like that. Gossipy.
Well, they could gossip all they liked. Winter lifted her chin and stared back at two older girls who eyed her curiously. She gave them her best haughty Lady Mary of Downton look, but they didn’t seem impressed.
Winter hurried to keep up with Jake. For all she knew, he could forget about her and disappear into the crowd, leaving her to fend for herself.
Not that she couldn’t do exactly that, but she wasn’t in the mood to find out how to survive by herself in the Wild Wild West.
Not yet, anyway.
The inside of the tent was decorated with little white lights, long tables and benches. The tables were covered with yellow-checked fabric and glass jars filled with white-and-yellow daisies. About a third of the tables held food in casserole dishes or plastic bowls. There was food everywhere, with more coming in all the time. Three young cowboys were busy opening champagne bottles in the corner closest to the door. Giggling girls filled champagne flutes and set them carefully on large silver trays.
Winter sucked in her breath. It was truly lovely and not at all what she had expected. She’d pictured more hay bales and a bunch of picnic tables.
She couldn’t wait to meet the bride and groom now that she no longer thought she and Jake would be kicked out. Being with an uncle made everything okay.
“Hey!” Sam waved to a herd of black-haired boys who were gathered near an old lady. She was round and sharp-eyed, though. Winter assumed she was a grandmother, because she’d met a few of those and they weren’t easily fooled. Robbie’s grandmother had called his mother a twit and his father a rotter, much to Robbie’s joy.
“Money doesn’t buy class,” she’d cluck. Robbie’s grandmother had not been impressed with his parents or with his parents’ piles of money, obviously, no matter how much there was of it.
Winter stayed close to Jake as they crossed to the other side of the tent. He was the only person she’d known longer than fifteen minutes.
“Marie,” Sam said, grinning. “I’d like you to meet my brother, Jake, and his daughter, Winter. Jake and Winter, please meet my future mother-in-law, Marie Swallow.”
To Winter’s surprise, she was enveloped in a hug. As was Jake.
“Welcome to the family,” the woman said. “And here are the boys.” She pointed to each one from tallest to shortest. “Davey, Matty and Tony. My grandsons.”
Winter eyed them. The tallest stared back. He didn’t look much older than eight or nine. The middle one had cake frosting in his hair. The little one leaned sleepily against his grandmother’s side. They were all dark-haired and dark-eyed. Despite wearing dark pants and white shirts, they looked as if they’d get into trouble given a little freedom.