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She had been. She was a darn good therapist. And that was what he’d noticed.
But now...
She wasn’t dressed up or anything, but apparently as soon as she stopped repressing her femininity it busted out all over. She wore only lipstick, but the pink of it drew attention to the perfect, slightly pouting bow of her mouth. Her shining brown hair fell over her delicate shoulders in lush waves that curled just above her elbows. As she shrugged off a nice blue wool coat, her jeans and sweater hugged curves that were designed to make a man’s palms itch.
She still hesitated in the doorway, as she scanned the room for an empty table. She didn’t look nervous, just patient...and yet, inexplicably, Jude had a sudden impression of her as terribly alone.
Impulsively, he waved at her and called her over. He did need to get home. But at least he could say hi, maybe introduce her to a couple of people. And she could have his table.
To his surprise, she flushed when she saw him. But, after a slight hesitation, she moved toward him, her coat over her arm.
“Hi,” she said. “Nice to see you. Don’t let me... I mean, don’t let me interrupt your dinner.”
“You’re not,” he said. “I just finished. Besides, I was hoping we’d run into each other. I wanted to tell you how much better my back is feeling.”
She smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.” She hugged her coat awkwardly and looked around once more, as if hoping an empty table would magically appear. Instead, her gaze stopped as she recognized Esther Fillmore. Jude saw the older woman give Tess the evil eye, apparently for being new in town. Alton shook his head subtly, as if trying to calm his wife. But Alton was no match for the crotchety old broad, and she didn’t even blink.
“Don’t mind Esther,” Jude said, quietly conspiratorial. “Her face always looks like she sucked a lemon. I first saw that expression when I was seven and sneaked a soda into the library.”
Tess glanced at him, as if uncertain whether she ought to laugh. “She’s Silverdell’s librarian?”
“Yep. But don’t worry. Silverdell has a bookstore, too. Fanny Bronson owns it, and she’s much easier to get along with.”
“Then I guess I’ll be buying my books while I’m here.” Tess smiled, finally. “If I get the job, that is.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you do,” he said. He didn’t want to raise her hopes, but judging from what Mari had said, it seemed a shoo-in. And he had this ridiculous sense that she needed cheering.
“Really? Have you heard something?”
“No. But word is you got a wildly enthusiastic recommendation for your working massage.”
She flushed again. “Thank you. That was very nice of you. But really, I mustn’t keep you. I thought I’d get dinner, but obviously they’re packed. Maybe I’ll grab something and take it back to my hotel.”
“No. Stay.” Jude heard the words come out before he could stop them. “Donovan’s has great food, and it would be a shame not to eat it warm from the oven. It would be half frozen if you tried to take it across town in this weather. I could—”
At the last minute, he pulled himself from the brink. What was he thinking? He couldn’t keep Tess company, no matter how “alone” he imagined her to be.
He had obligations at home. Molly always got depressed come sundown, especially if she’d been alone with the baby all day. Or if Garth had called, trying to get her to come home. When it snowed she was even worse. Like a form of cabin fever, Jude sometimes thought, though the doctor had a fancier term: postpartum depression.
But it didn’t leave much room for Jude to have a life, did it? And right now, when he was standing at the most important fork in the road he’d ever faced...
A shimmer of frustration passed through him—followed immediately by a wave of disgust with himself for being so selfish. Molly hadn’t timed her illness, or her marital problems, to annoy him. She couldn’t help that Garth was an abusive bum, or that her post-baby chemistry had gone out of whack.
“Here’s the soup!” Marianne bustled out of the kitchen. She didn’t see Tess at first, concentrating on wrestling a large biodegradable to-go bowl into a paper bag. “If this doesn’t perk Molly up, nothing will.”
She extended the bag. But as she looked up and noticed that he wasn’t alone, her eyes widened.
“Hi, there,” she said warmly, her gaze sweeping over Tess like a computer scan, missing nothing. “Welcome to Donovan’s! I’m sorry...shall I get this table cleared off, or are you here to pick up Jude?”
Tess hesitated, obviously still undecided about whether she’d stay, but the alternative, that she’d come to pick Jude up, was equally untrue.
Jude took the soup and stood. “Mari, this is Tess Spencer. I told her she could have my table, but she said she might order takeout.”
“Oh, no! On a night like this?” As she spoke, Marianne flicked one quick look toward Jude that asked the important question—the Tess?—and received her answer in a fraction of a second. Satisfied, she reached for a bright green menu and handed it to Tess. Then she deftly began piling dishes and debris onto a tray.
“I do hope I can talk you into staying. We have some wonderful comfort food, perfect for a cold December night.”
Her tray full, she balanced it with one hand and pulled out a chair for Tess with the other. “Sit while you look at the menu. Jude can tell you what’s good.”
Tess sat, draping her coat across her lap. But she remained on the edge of the seat, back erect, as if unready to commit to staying. Across from her, the companion chair seemed conspicuously empty, like a question spoken aloud. Was he going to join her, or not?
Well, was he?
He wanted to. In fact, he was surprised how strong the urge to sit was. It felt like a magnetic pull. He’d love to talk to her, to find out more about her, and at the same time provide a buffer between her and the avid curiosity radiating from the Dellians around the room.
But why did he think she needed a buffer? The curiosity was mostly a result of him talking to her. He knew all too well how much gossip he’d caused by coming home, and how many people speculated on what had happened between him and Haley in Los Angeles.
If he wanted Tess to be less conspicuous, the best thing he could do was leave. No one here was going to accost her. He took inventory. None of the more rambunctious young men of Silverdell were here, and none of the unhappily married drinkers, either. In fact, the only unhappily married man in the room was Alton Fillmore, and if he ever got mad enough to hassle a woman, surely it would be his witchy wife.
Besides, Dallas was the sheriff, and he’d make sure everyone behaved. Tess was hardly in danger of anything but an hour or two of loneliness.
This alone thing was probably entirely a figment of his imagination. She’d entered the restaurant with the express intent of eating by herself. Maybe she’d even been looking forward to some privacy.
He studied her, wondering whether the pink on her cheekbones meant she hoped he’d stay—or was praying he’d go.
As if she felt his gaze, she looked up from the menu. “So...what’s good?”
“Everything,” he said. Molly would just have to wait a few more minutes. “And that’s not an exaggeration. In fact...”
He had just scraped the chair back from the table, as if to sit, when his cell phone chirped softly in his pocket. For a split second, he considered ignoring it.
But he didn’t, of course. Even if it were only another pseudo-emergency, it was real to Molly, and Jude was all she had. He darn sure didn’t want her crawling back to a man who beat her, just to get some comfort and support.
“Sorry,” he said, as he dug out the phone. He clicked Answer without even looking.
“Molly, sweetheart, I’m about to leave Donovan’s—”
A trill of musical laughter flowed through his ear and into his gut. “It’s not Molly, Jude.”
“Haley?” The name came out on an exhale of shock, and within an instant he knew what a mistake that had been. At least two people were sitting close enough to have heard him. And those two people would tell two people, who would also tell two people...
In fact, behind him, he could already hear someone whispering, “It’s Haley. Haley Hawthorne.”
“Hold on.” His voice was hard and gruff, but damn it. They’d agreed she would leave him alone, entirely alone, for six full months, before she tried to talk him into returning to L.A.—and to her.
It had been only four months since he’d come home. He had actually begun to hope she’d accepted the inevitable and moved on. Every time he heard about her partying with some celebrity, he crossed his fingers.
So why was she calling now? Why tonight? Did she have some kind of radar that warned her he was about to sit down with a very pretty stranger?
And why did he mind so much? One way or another, he would have to leave. He wasn’t footloose enough to sit around flirting with the new massage therapist, no matter how adorable she was.
He put his hand over the speaker and turned to Tess. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
* * *
ALMOST AN HOUR LATER, Tess pulled through the open iron gates of Bell River Ranch as twilight lowered a blue wing over the landscape. She loved this time of day anywhere, even in smoggy Los Angeles, but here, on this rolling land bordered by ancient trees and snowy mountains, the beauty almost took her breath away.
Or maybe her heart was beating so rapidly she couldn’t get enough oxygen.
She worked at taking slow breaths. She wanted to be calm and professional for this meeting, but it wasn’t easy. Ever since Rowena had called and asked Tess to come by the ranch to discuss the job, her nerves had been tingling with anticipation.
She’d asked twice...did Rowena mean for Tess to come to the main house? Not the spa’s office, as she had on Monday? Rowena had been offhanded, but definite. Yes, she wanted Tess to meet the others, and it was easiest to do that at home.
The others. Rowena said it so casually, as, of course, she would. She took her network of connections for granted. At home. She took that for granted, too.
They were going to offer her the job, surely. Why else would they invite her here? And she would get her first glimpse of the house her biological father built.
As she neared the house, a large, open wagon drawn by two horses rumbled past. Loaded with hay and about a dozen laughing children, and spangled with colored lights, it was clearly a holiday adventure offered to the guests. What a fun vacation Bell River must be—sleigh rides on Monday, hay rides on Wednesday...
The kids waved as they passed her car, though they had no idea who she was. Through her closed windows she could hear giggling and singing, and happy shouts of “Goodbye, goodbye!”
She couldn’t resist waving. She parked, climbed out and pulled her coat around her more tightly against the clear, sweet cold. After a lifetime of warm Los Angeles holidays, this certainly was a change.
Good. There was nothing left in California for her anymore. A change was what she desperately needed.
Someone must have seen her pull up, because before she could ring the bell the door opened, the Christmas wreath chiming merrily with small bells. Rowena stood in the bright rectangle of light, smiling.
“I’m so glad you were nearby,” Rowena said. “Marianne’s food is fabulous, isn’t it? Here, come in and get warm.”
Tess had imagined this moment a hundred times since deciding to apply for the job. So much to absorb, so many people and things she wanted to see. Her mother had obliterated all traces of Johnny Wright from her life, and had very little to share when she was ready to confide in Tess.
They’d apparently been lovers only briefly, having met when he had a meeting with her boss over a real estate deal he was considering in Denver. Her mother had lived there, though Tess had never known.
She hadn’t realized Johnny was married until she told him of the pregnancy. Whatever his reaction had been, it had frightened her mother enough that she left Colorado entirely. She bore her daughter in Los Angeles, raised her there and never spoke of him until she lay on her deathbed.
So the picture of Johnny Wright and his family was no more than a blank silhouette in Tess’s mind. She’d met Bree and Rowena. But Penny, the third sister...would she be here? Would Tess meet the men who had married the Wright daughters? Did they have children?
But now that the moment had arrived she felt flustered and could hardly take in a single detail. Rowena ushered her past the beautiful holiday decorations of the entry and into a large parlor room teeming with people. It took several minutes to get through the introductions, and even then, when she sat on a comfortable armchair, Tess wasn’t sure who was who.
Bree, of course, she recognized. But except for Rowena and Bree, Tess found herself staring at a room full of ridiculously good-looking men, from late twenties to eighty, so Penny must not be here.
Tess worked to get the men straight. The oldest one was the ranch manager, Barton James. Then there was Dallas, Rowena’s husband, and a gorgeous blond named Gray, who apparently was married to Bree. The dark-haired guy was Max, Penny’s husband, even though Penny herself was nowhere to be seen.
The youngest of the group, who had a rascal’s smile, freckles and every bit as much sex appeal as the older guys, was Dallas’s little brother, Mitch.
Whew. She thought that was all. It was certainly enough.
“Did Rowena even give you enough time to finish eating?” Dallas turned his shockingly blue eyes toward her from his perch on the piano stool. “If you had to give short shrift to Marianne’s prime rib, that’s a crime.”
Oh, yes, that’s why this one looked familiar. He had been in Donovan’s tonight, too. He’d been in a sheriff’s uniform, and he’d left right after Jude did.
“A crime? You planning to arrest me, Sheriff?” Rowena, who was passing him, bonked him on the head with a sheaf of papers she carried. “You know we’re desperate here. I couldn’t put prime rib ahead of Bell River.”
“You don’t put anything ahead of Bell River.” He grabbed Rowena around her waist and drew her in with a chuckle. He put his lips against her stomach. “You hear that, Hatchling? You’ll have to come to Daddy if you need anything, because Mamma’s got a one-track mind.”
Rowena shook her head in mock exasperation, but she ruffled her husband’s hair affectionately before pulling away and coming to sit near Tess.
“I guess you’ve figured out that we want to offer you a job,” she said.
“Yes.” Tess glanced around the room, finally noticing the elegant pencil-thin tree in the corner and the mistletoe dangling from the chandelier. “This does seem like a big crowd to bring in to tell me thanks but no thanks.”
Rowena nodded. “Exactly. And I’m sure you’ve realized it’s a big crowd to bring in to offer you just a part-time massage therapist job, too. The truth is, we’re hoping you’ll accept a position that’s a little more important than that.”
Tess folded her hands in her lap. Her heart had begun thrumming again. “What position is that?”
“Well...” Rowena took a breath. Then she handed over the papers. “Spa director.”
Tess wasn’t sure how to react. She accepted the papers automatically, but her brain was still processing those two words. Spa director. That was a full-time position. It would undoubtedly come with a contract, a good salary and possibly upgraded living quarters. It was about fifty steps up from the job she’d applied for.
And that brought with it all kinds of complications. When she’d decided to come here, she’d imagined spending a few months in Silverdell, at the most. The pay was good, and all full-time Bell River jobs also offered on-site housing, dormitory style, which would make it easier for her to rebuild her bank balance.
She hadn’t expected to be more than a run-of-the-mill employee—the kind of massage therapist who could stay a short while, do a good job, but not leave a big hole in the operation when she left. She certainly didn’t want to cause Bell River any harm while she satisfied her curiosity about her birth father.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a minute, “but I have to ask. Why me?”
“Like I just said, we’re desperate.”
Bree groaned. “Ro, sometimes you’re just too tactless, you know that?”
“What? We are desperate.”
Shaking her head, Bree turned toward Tess. “What she meant to say is that we’re well aware you weren’t necessarily looking for this much responsibility or this big a commitment. We understand that you hardly know us—and we hardly know you—and therefore this is undoubtedly quite a surprise. But we’ve had an unexpected vacancy, and your references and experience are so stellar that we hoped maybe you’d consider helping us out.”
Rowena laughed. “Yeah. That’s absolutely what I meant to say. See? That’s why Bree is the sweet-talking social director, and I’m the blunt-force sledgehammer who gets things done.” She leaned forward. “And honestly, Tess, we are desperate. Our director is gone. Like already. Tonight, right now, just plain gone. We think you might be able to save our skins here, if you say yes.”
Her self-effacing manner was so warm and engaging that Tess couldn’t help smiling. “It’s a very flattering offer. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but there’s something I probably should ask.”
Rowena sat back, obviously encouraged that Tess hadn’t rejected the idea outright. “Anything,” she said. “It’s all there. Salary, accommodations, bonuses, hours. You’d get the same contract Chelsea had.”
“It’s not that. I mean, those details would come later, but before I’d even consider it, I’d need to know...” Tess considered her words carefully. “It’s unusual for a director to bolt like that. Was there anything...?”
“She fell in love.” Bree stated the fact baldly. “With a guest. He left for Greece tonight, and she went, too. We had no idea. We have a strict policy against dating the guests, so obviously she didn’t mention it to anyone. He was here only a week.”
“Yeah, but he was dreamy,” Rowena said. “So a week was probably plenty.”
“Hey!” Dallas’s protest was gruff, but he didn’t exactly look threatened.
“Anyhow,” Rowena went on, as if he hadn’t interrupted, “the bottom line is that Chelsea didn’t leave because conditions were oppressive, or because of any mistreatment. We’re still in our first year of operation, so I won’t pretend we don’t have to budget carefully, or that sometimes things aren’t pretty lean, but I think we can promise you at least a year’s employment. Of course, we’re hoping all goes well, and the job could be permanent.”
A year. Tess definitely hadn’t imagined staying at Bell River that long. She was deeply curious about the Wright sisters, and she wanted to know more about her biological father, but could she really afford to invest that much time?
She needed to return to a real city soon, somewhere she could put down roots and build a clientele. With any kind of luck, eventually she’d save enough to open her own practice and create a life for herself.
Repeat clients, a steady income, a home base. Independence and security. Those were her only goals, now that both her mother and ex-husband, Craig, were gone.
And yet, she remembered how she’d felt after the working massage. She remembered that inner tug, that feeling that she wanted to take the job, no matter what.
The tug was stronger than ever now. And there was something else, too. Something that felt like excitement. She smothered it instinctively. Excitement was dangerous. It made you do stupid things, things you hadn’t thought through....
“You don’t have to answer tonight,” Bree said gently, as if she sensed Tess’s inner conflict. “Why don’t you take the contract home and look it over? Then tomorrow we can meet again to answer any questions.”
“That’s a good idea.” Tess grasped the chance to escape. All these strangers watching her, all these hopes hanging on her answer, felt like a hot, heavy cloak thrown over her shoulders.
And they were strangers, she thought on an unexpected wave of vertigo. Complete strangers. She didn’t look like these women—not even a whisper of kinship showed in their faces. She didn’t think like them, or live like them.
Merely being here, in this fancy home where everyone belonged but her, was depressing. She felt an overwhelming exhaustion, realizing that she’d spent a lifetime trying to find a connection with someone, anyone...and failing.
Even with her own husband.
The parlor was big, but there wasn’t enough air in it. Cinnamon and pine were thick in the air, and she feared she might be sick. She wished she hadn’t eaten so much at Donovan’s. It had tasted great, and Marianne had been so welcoming....
But now, the food began to roil oddly in her stomach.
When Tess didn’t speak, Rowena looked disappointed. She opened her mouth, but then she exchanged a look with Bree. Something must have passed between them, because Rowena closed her lips.
Eager to leave, Tess was trying to stuff the papers into her purse—which was far too small to hold them—when a commotion in the doorway made her look up. A boy, maybe eleven or twelve, stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.
“There’s a big problem,” he announced dramatically. “But it’s not my fault, honest!”
“Of course it’s your fault.” With a sigh, Mitch rose, shaking his head. “When was it ever not your fault?”
“You don’t even know what it is!” The boy tucked his head back, indignant.
“I still know it’s your fault.” Mitch smiled at Dallas as he passed. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Not you, Uncle Mitch!” The boy held out his hands. “It’s Isamar—and she wants Ro. She says the ghost is on the stairs again, and won’t let her pass with the vacuum. Plus, she’s scaring Becky, who was trying to dust, and they look like they’re going to scream any minute. And that’d be worse than having me interrupt.” He looked around for confirmation. “Right? That’d be a lot worse.”
Rowena groaned, but she stood immediately, as if there were no denying the summons.
“Maybe it’s just as well somebody mentioned this now,” she said in a strangely flat, resigned voice. She looked at Bree. “I’ll handle the maids. You’ll tell Tess?”
Bree nodded, her face utterly expressionless. “I’ll tell her.”
For a moment after Rowena and the boy departed, no one spoke. They all looked uncomfortably at the empty doorway. It was only when a weak, high-pitched shriek wafted from the floor above that Bree cleared her throat, squared her shoulders and turned to face Tess.
“Okay. So. There’s one thing you should know about Bell River. The house has a history. And, at least according to this particular housekeeper, we also have a ghost.”
* * *
MITCH GARWOOD, whose nickname had always been mischief and whose favorite word had always been yes, found himself craving peace these days. Like some tired old codger, he was happiest when he could sit quietly in the handmade rocking chair in Jude Calhoun’s workshop and watch his friend turn wood.
He wondered whether that meant he was getting old. Not by the calendar, of course. That relentless numeric ticker still said he was a few years shy of thirty. But maybe he was getting old when measured by the heart, which seemed to count age in buoyancy...or lack thereof.
And it had been months since he’d felt anything that came even close to buoyant.
Not since that September morning when he’d opened his eyes and discovered that the other side of his bed was empty. Bonnie was gone. Bonnie. His lover...his friend. His future and his life.
That was the day his heart turned to lead.
At home, back at Bell River, he put on a pretty good show. But it was exhausting. That’s why he liked to be here. The twirling lathe and Jude’s spindle gouge made a soothing white noise, and it took away any pressure to talk.
Jude gave off utterly peaceful vibes, too. He belonged in here, with the sawdust and the scent of fresh wood. Back when they were boys together, Mitch had understood that Jude’s one dream was to be a carpenter, like his father. When Mr. Calhoun dropped dead of a heart attack, Jude was only fifteen. Maybe that’s why he always projected such calm in here, in the workshop full of his dad’s memory, and his dad’s lovingly tended tools.