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The “honey” was for his niece, Zoey realized after a split second. Then she was sitting alone at the table, with the two Nugent girls. Arthur and Elizabeth were dancing—somewhere, Zoey couldn’t see them on the crowded dance floor. Ryan had whirled off dramatically, his niece clinging to his neck, her short blond hair flying. The girl seemed to be about Tessa’s age, four or five.
“You okay here?” Ryan’s brother—what was his name again?—appeared at the table and put down two paper cups of beer and a can of Pepsi. This time he was accompanied by the blond woman who’d been at the Gold Dust Café earlier. He didn’t introduce her. Zoey nodded automatically, a little confused, and he headed immediately for the dance floor, hand-in-hand with the blonde. The band had segued into an old Hank Williams tune, a two-step.
Zoey watched Ryan’s brother put his arms around his partner, smile at her and start moving to the music. He was a decent dancer. Most cowboys were. He glanced back briefly and Zoey stared at the wall, avoiding eye contact. The wife? Must be. A nice-looking woman, wearing a green print dress. The type men usually went for—lots of hair and big boobs.
Zoey studied the pair from the corner of her eye as they moved away. He was about the same height as Ryan, maybe an inch taller. A little heavier build, broader shoulders. He was obviously older if he’d known her sisters. She hadn’t met any of Ryan’s family; their pretend romance hadn’t gotten that far.
Imagine! The customer she’d seen in Mr. Furtz’s shoe repair shop, the man who’d ignored her—although she’d been pretty sure she felt some interest there for a second or two, which was weird, considering he was obviously married—turning out to be Ryan’s brother.
Wait until she told Charlotte and Lydia. Small town life was just too full of coincidences!
RYAN RETURNED to the table with his giggling niece. He took Zoey’s hand and bowed low over it. The other two girls were jumping up and down. “My turn!” Tessa yelled.
“Zoey first and then you, Tess,” he said firmly. “Then Becky.”
“Oh, no!” Zoey said, coloring. “I couldn’t leave the girls here all alone.”
“Why not?” Ryan shrugged. “They’re fine. There’s plenty of neighbors around. Hell, here’s Cam, he’ll sit with the kids.”
As he led her onto the floor, he said something to his brother. Cameron looked at her, over Ryan’s shoulder, and Zoey got the funniest sensation. That he didn’t approve? What possible business was it of his, if Ryan danced with her?
Just then Elizabeth and Arthur came back and Becky launched herself at her father. “My turn, Daddy! My turn!”
Elizabeth fanned her flushed face and waved gaily at Zoey as she sat down. Zoey knew exactly what her friend was thinking. That she and Ryan had hit it off. That there was suddenly the excitement of romance in the crisp, cold air of the Fullerton Valley. That Zoey, unmarried at twenty-eight and probably, in Elizabeth’s view, pretty near over the hill, could do a heck of a lot worse. That it was no coincidence that Zoey’s old heartthrob was unmarried and very, very eligible. That, indeed, this was not only serendipity—it could even be fate.
Ryan was a good dancer, just as Zoey remembered. He held her close and her head swam. Everything about him was so familiar and yet so very, very strange.
“Where are you living these days, Zoey?”
“Toronto.”
He whistled. “The big city, huh?”
She didn’t say anything. She was normally an excellent dancer but for some reason she was having trouble keeping in step with him. Nerves?
“Hey! Remember the time we drove out to Varley’s old barn and had a picnic, you and me and Adele and that guy she was going with—what the hell was his name?”
Zoey nodded. “Burke Goodall, wasn’t it?”
“That’s it! Burke the Jerk, I always thought of him.” She felt his right arm tighten around her shoulders. “I was always crazy about Adele, remember that?”
Did she! “Whatever happened? You two ever get together?” Zoey hoped her question sounded nonchalant. It was a question she’d agonized about for a long time, even after she’d left Stoney Creek.
Ryan’s face clouded, and he sighed. “No. Just one of those things, I guess. For a while there—” He shrugged, then went on. “Hell, it wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Enough about me. What about you—married?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“What? Good-looking lady like you?” He hugged her and Zoey thought she’d burst with pleasure and pride. He meant it, he actually meant it!
“Not that I believe you for a minute, but—”
“Hey, believe it. You were always a pretty little thing, but, damn, you’re gorgeous now.”
Pretty little thing? No way! Zoey didn’t think she could stand much more of this. She was glad when the dance ended and Becky materialized beside them, tugging at Ryan’s shirt. “My turn now!”
Elizabeth wanted to leave after the next dance. Tessa had obviously been crying; Zoey had no idea what that was about, either. Kids! At one time, she might’ve been annoyed that they had to go but tonight she welcomed the opportunity. Her head was spinning—worse than before.
“I’m just going to check out the silent auction, okay?” She might as well drop some more money while she was here. It was all for a good cause, as the mayor had reminded them.
“Sure. Fifteen minutes?” Elizabeth glanced at her watch.
“Fine.”
Zoey moved along the line of products and services displayed on the paper-covered tables at the back of the room, pausing occasionally to mark down her bid, leaving Elizabeth’s phone number for a contact since she didn’t know where she’d be when the hotel threw her out. Looking for another place was next on her to-do list. She’d been invited to stay at the Nugents’, but Elizabeth’s offer, while kind, was impossible. She needed peace and quiet.
Okay. Twenty bucks for a manicure. That was a deal. Fifteen for a string of Christmas lights—she’d give those to Elizabeth if she won. Twenty-seven dollars for a sack of premium dog food. Elizabeth and Arthur had a big black Labrador that probably ate them out of house and home.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?” To her shock, it was Ryan’s brother, hovering behind her right shoulder.
“Care to dance?”
CHAPTER THREE
ZOEY SCRIBBLED on a piece of notepaper she’d found inside the desk in her room.
Greetings from the Fullerton Valley!
Lydia: You’ll never guess. I ran into my first love—remember I told you about Ryan Donnelly, the great-looking rancher?—yesterday. Already! He was at a dance I went to with Elizabeth and her family. Here’s the best news—he’s single and he thinks I’m gorgeous! Nice change, huh? Oh, I also met his brother (didn’t know he had one) plus a niece. The hotel is chucking me out this week and I might have to stay with Elizabeth until I can find something else. When you hear from Charlotte, pass on my news. Wonder if she’s met her first love yet? Bet I got you both beat! I’ll keep you posted.
Luv, Zoey
P.S. Haven’t even had time to look at the manuscript—too much going on!
MARY ELLEN ARRIVED Monday night, and Elizabeth and Zoey met her for lunch the next day at the trendy—for Stoney Creek—Martha’s Grainery, a fern-draped, health-menu establishment at the corner of Tremont and Main Street.
Mary Ellen, who’d worked for a travel agency for six years and had recently left it to open her own business, a bed-and-breakfast inn on Vancouver Island, was the same shy, warmhearted girl she’d always been. The Osprey’s Nest—so-named, she told them, because it perched all alone on a hilltop overlooking Georgia Strait—was closed for the winter season, just like Zoey’s hotel.
With no makeup and dressed in sneakers, jeans and a red silk shirt, Mary Ellen didn’t look much older than she had in high school.
“So, any news on the man front?” Zoey thought they ought to get straight down to business. “Not you, Elizabeth, you’re married—unless you’ve got some suggestions for us.”
Elizabeth laughed, but Zoey thought she sounded pleased. Marriage, husband, children. In Elizabeth’s eyes, she had it all. And Zoey had to agree; if you were going to live in a small town like Stoney Creek, you might as well be married. What was there to do for singles?
“No,” Mary Ellen said, with a small shrug. She picked up one half of the shrimp-and-cheese-stuffed croissant she’d ordered. “Too busy these days. You?”
“Same.” Zoey attacked her vegetarian burger, wishing she’d ordered some fries. Elizabeth looked content with her huge Caesar salad and grilled chicken breast.
“Speaking of men, you’ll never guess who we ran into on Saturday?”
“We?” Mary Ellen raised her eyebrow, mouth full.
“Lizzie and me.” She leaned forward. “Ryan Donnelly! Remember him?”
Zoey thought Mary Ellen seemed a little flustered, but maybe that was just because she was swallowing. “Of course I remember Ryan,” she said. “Didn’t you spill several buckets of tears over him, mostly on my shoulder?”
“Yeah.” Zoey was perfectly aware that her friend was teasing. Mary Ellen knew as well as Zoey did that Ryan had never had any real interest in her, only as a stooge to make Adele Martinez jealous. “Did you know he almost married Adele? That’s what Lizzie says. She ran off before the wedding. Jilted him.”
“No!” Mary Ellen looked genuinely shocked. “That poor man!”
“Yes. And of course Lizzie—” they both turned to their good friend, Zoey with a grin and Mary Ellen with an expression of dismay “—knows everything.”
It was true. Elizabeth knew who was in town and who wasn’t and why they’d left and when they’d be back, if ever. She knew the price of beef and how much a new teacher made in the Stoney Creek district and that washing soda was a perfectly good substitute for detergent in the laundry. She bottled and preserved and made her own Christmas presents and sewed all her girls’ clothing, as well as running a busy seasonal craft business specializing in candles and fridge magnets.
She was Fullerton Valley’s own blend of Ann Landers and Martha Stewart.
Zoey had realized right away that Elizabeth was a wealth of local information and could steer her clear of any faux pas she might otherwise make in this small community. If the mayor’s wife was sleeping with the fire chief, Zoey wanted to know.
“Yep.” Zoey loaded her fork with alfalfa and black radish sprouts. They were dressed with a raspberry vinaigrette, quite tasty. “Ryan was with his brother and niece. Say, what’s with the brother?” She turned from one to the other. “Weird. He asked me to dance and then never said a word the whole time we were dancing. Except once. I asked what his wife’s name was and he said he didn’t have a wife. End of conversation. He has the most darling little girl, though. He’s your basic tall, dark and handsome type, but no where near as handsome as Ryan. You ever meet him?”
Mary Ellen shook her head. “I don’t think so. Never mind him, what happened with Ryan and Adele?”
“They went out for a while right after high school and Ryan wanted to marry her. They were too young, of course. I don’t think Ryan was twenty-one.” Elizabeth set down her wineglass. “Anyway, the wedding was all planned and everything and then, bingo, she dumped him. Left him high and dry—”
“No!”
“Yes. It was quite a scandal around here. No one ever thought anything like that would happen to Ryan Donnelly. But, to tell you the truth, I don’t believe she was ever in love with him. She’d been seeing some older guy, a married man, before she changed her mind and said yes to Ryan.”
Mary Ellen’s eyes were huge. “What happened?”
“Don’t know. She never showed up for the wedding. Took off for Vancouver. I heard she had a baby seven months later.” Elizabeth gave Mary Ellen a penetrating look, as though daring her to add it up. “A little boy.”
“Oh, Elizabeth! Maybe it was Ryan’s,” Mary Ellen said in a stricken voice. Zoey glanced over her shoulder. She hoped no one was listening in on their conversation.
“You really think so?” Elizabeth gave them both an “oh, don’t be dumb” look. “If so, why did loverboy leave his wife and run off to Vancouver to join the new mom and baby? Maybe he couldn’t count, either. Anyway, it was a big fuss and I don’t think Ryan’s parents ever really recovered but—” Elizabeth took a sip from her water glass “—what did they expect?”
Zoey leaned across the table, desperately curious. “What do you mean?”
“The Donnellys are not lucky in love,” Elizabeth said darkly. “They never have been. Ryan or his brother. Or most of the cousins, for that matter.”
“So, what happened to him? Ryan’s brother?” Not that she cared much. He’d been an old stick when they danced and after the initial surprise, she had the feeling he was checking her over on behalf of his brother. Like some piece of ranch machinery they were considering putting a bid on! Ryan was the one she felt sorry for. Left at the altar, just like in a bad novel.
“Same thing. Although in his case they were actually married and had a baby. That’s Lissy, of course. His wife wasn’t from around here,” Elizabeth said, as if that explained a lot. “I heard he met her in a bar. She took off with the baby, then came back two years ago and dumped her in Cameron’s lap. He’s not much for women anymore although quite a few have tried to change his mind, including, lately, one of the new teachers in town.”
“The blonde they were with on Saturday?” Zoey was itching with curiosity. Who said nothing ever happened in small towns!
“That’s the one. Sara Rundle. Cameron generally leaves the lady stuff to his brother. Ryan’s never changed. He likes women. Arthur told me Cam’s hauled him out of quite a few scrapes over the past few years. Of course, Arthur wouldn’t tell me what kind of scrapes but I can guess.”
“Funny neither of them left the valley, considering their experiences here,” Mary Ellen murmured. “Started over somewhere new.”
“Not everyone wants to leave the Cariboo, you know.” Elizabeth stared at her with something approaching disapproval. “You and Zoey did, but there’s a lot of us who stuck around.” Zoey thought she sounded a little defensive.
“Are they on the Donnelly place?”
“No. Family ranch was sold when the folks retired a few years back and moved to Kelowna. Leave it to his boys? Old Man Donnelly didn’t have any soft spots and if he did, no one ever found ’em, that’s what Arthur says.” Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. “What a bunch! No, they’re west of town, paying down a brand-new mortgage. At least, Cam is. Ryan works for him, and their aunt, Marty Hainsworth, lives with them, kind of takes care of the little girl. Hey, is this too complicated for you?”
Mary Ellen smiled and shook her head and reached for the menu. Zoey had been thinking of the crème caramel. She hoped it wasn’t made with soy milk. “Edith’s told me bits and pieces over the years,” Mary Ellen said. “She never mentioned the Ryan and Adele thing. What happened to her? Anyone ever hear?”
“The unnamed married man went back to his wife and family. They moved away. Some say Adele’s a high-class call girl now, but I don’t believe it. Small-minded people with not much imagination say that,” Elizabeth sniffed. “Someone told me she was a model. Makes sense. All she ever cared about was clothes and hair.” They all smiled, remembering.
“Hey, good for her. Looks don’t last.” Elizabeth sat back and rested her fork and knife diagonally across her plate. “Use ’em while you got ’em, that’s what Mum always said.”
“I feel sorry for Ryan,” Mary Ellen said softly. That was one of the things Zoey loved about her friend—she was so loyal. So caring, so sensitive.
Zoey examined her own feelings for Ryan. She’d been thrilled when they’d met, no question. Even after ten years, her pulse had ricocheted all over the place. He’d called her gorgeous! Of course, he’d always been a flirt. Still, maybe now that Adele was definitely out of the picture…
Zoey was happy with her situation but she wanted a partner in life, children one day. Back when she was twenty, she used to tell Charlotte and Lydia that if she hadn’t met anyone she felt strongly about by the time she was twenty-eight, she’d start looking. Well, she was nearly twenty-eight….
“Forget the Donnellys! Let’s talk about Edith and the wedding,” Zoey said suddenly, picking up the menu Mary Ellen had put down. “You’re right, Lizzie, this place sounds more complicated than a soap opera.”
“It can be,” Elizabeth said serenely. “If you believe half of what you hear, and I do. Just ’cause we’re small town doesn’t mean we’re boring. Hand over that menu, Zoe. You two feel like dessert?”
TWO DAYS LATER, Zoey was sitting at the beat-up fake mahogany desk beside the window in her hotel room, trying to decipher a particularly bad patch of her author’s handwriting. Despite making a ton of money, Jamie Chinchilla was cheap and persisted on writing down the margins of her badly typed manuscript and occasionally on both sides of the paper. Sometimes Zoey wanted to scream. She was glad she was paid top dollar to wrestle each manuscript into shape before it went to New York.
The hotel had told her she’d have to be out the following afternoon. She’d given up trying to find a decent place on such short notice and had reluctantly decided she’d have to accept Elizabeth’s offer of her guest room, for now. Edith and Mary Ellen had no extra room and the two motels in town were totally unsuitable. Arthur had said he’d put out the word with his business associates. Someone was bound to know of a cottage or a short-term apartment rental. Four weeks, that was all she needed until the wedding.
A rap at the door had her sitting up straight. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She waited until the polite rap sounded a second time, then put down her pen.
“Hello?”
Cameron Donnelly stood in the hall, a look of un-ease on his face, his hat in his hand. “Hello, ma’am. I’d like to see you for a few moments. May I come in?”
“Come in?” Zoey echoed like a speech-impaired parrot. She opened the door a bit wider. “Why, certainly. Come in and sit down.” She hoped she sounded gracious. What she felt was surprised. Cameron Donnelly stepped forward and she shut the door behind him.
Omigod, the place was a disaster. For company, anyway. She’d made the bed, in a fashion, but she had the manuscript spread all over the bedspread and desk, damp panty hose hanging from the old-fashioned radiator by the other window, a half-eaten bag of Fritos open by the phone and she was dressed—just barely—in her favorite working costume of tights and a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey. Her hair was a mess.
“I won’t take up much of your time, Miss Phillips.”
He was so proper and old-fashioned it hurt. “Please call me Zoey,” she invited. “It’s my name.” He cracked a smile. “Zoey, ma’am. I won’t stay long but I do have something I’d like to put to you.”
“Sit down, please!” She cleared a cardigan sweater off the back of the loveseat that, together with the upholstered chair and low scratched coffee table, formed the sitting area to one side of the room. Nothing disguised the size of the bed, though, or the mirror on the ceiling.
He sat down on the loveseat. She whipped a magazine off the seat of the chair opposite him and sat down, too. What in the world could this be about? She’d met him once, danced with him for one short dance and they’d exchanged about seven words.
