The Unknown Malone

“Some kind of fad diet you got there.”

She continued shoveling it in, not meeting his gaze, too intent on the business at hand. When she’d finished the last of it she sat back and closed her eyes, seeming to relish the moment.

Michael picked at his food, his appetite having left him when he realized he’d fallen prey to this hapless creature. It was obvious she was hungry and had been for some time, which meant she was broke, which meant he couldn’t send her off if he wanted to.

What bothered him most was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

There was something more than met the eye here. One moment she was cocky and confident, the next a frightened kitten.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” She was staring at his untouched half sandwich and pickle.

He pushed his plate over and she helped herself.

“Where else have you tried to find work?”

She held up a finger, finished chewing, then said, “You name it.” She polished off his dill pickle in three efficient bites, then carried both plates to the sink where she rinsed and stacked them. Then she put everything away and cleaned off the counter, looking as though she’d done this all her life, that this was her home instead of his.

Now she stood in front of him, hands on hips. “Well, I can swing a hammer as well as the next. Paint, wallpaper. Whatever.”

“Have you considered getting a job as a cook instead of... instead.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him, looking insulted that he might suggest she came for anything other than a carpenter’s helper, when he knew full well she hadn’t

“I need a job with room and board.” It was more a statement of fact than a request, a certain sound of assurance in her voice telegraphing this was a done deal.

Heaven help him. She was moving in. His gut told him it was true before the words took shape in his head.

He went to the cupboard and started rummaging.

“What are you doing?” she asked, standing close enough that he caught a whiff of her perfume, her words sending a soft puff of warm air skittering over his free arm.

“Looking for the antacid.”

“Have you ever tried laughter instead?”

He found the bottle, uncapped it and downed a healthy swig. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She cocked her head in a too-adorable way and said, “You ought to loosen up a little, Michael. Look at that frown on your forehead.”

When had they gotten on a first-name basis? And when had her voice changed? It seemed different somehow. Whatever was going on, he knew he’d better take charge of this situation right here and now.

“Look, Nic—Ms. Bedder. You can stay here for a few days and cook...in exchange for room and board.” She eyed him for a moment, looking as though she were taking his measure and had suddenly become wary of his intentions, which seemed strange, since she was a woman willing to sell her body to a perfect stranger.

Something just wasn’t adding up. But for now it didn’t matter. All he wanted to do was make one thing perfectly clear.

“Just a few days, while you look for a job elsewhere. Agreed?”

A slow smile reappeared on her full lips, exposing small, white, perfect teeth. “Agreed.”

Nicole raced over the brick walk toward her trusted Chevy until she came to the path’s end. There she turned and surveyed the sprawling Victorian, its turrets and furbelows adding grace and beauty to the valley it inhabited. It was a grand old lady, she thought, before turning and tiptoeing over the gravel and popping open her trunk. She could do a lot worse than stay here.

Yet stay she would. And not for a few days, either. Somehow she would convince that——that macho cowboy—that she was the right person for the job. A salaried one, at that. She’d never been afraid of hard work, and after a few good meals her strength would surely return.

Inside her duffel she found comfortable sandals and breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped them onto her hot feet. Throwing the bag over her shoulder, she indulged in a moment of optimism. What if this turned out to be more than a means to an end? Maybe she wouldn’t have to take the money and run. It could be the perfect place for—

She was getting ahead of herself. First things first.

When she started back for the house, she saw Michael standing in the doorway, his face lost in shadow. He was waiting for her and watching, not moving a muscle. She tried to recapture her earlier persona as she strode toward him, but she knew some of the cockiness had abandoned her. There was something about fainting that made that role no longer plausible. Something about him carrying her inside that made her feel...

She closed the distance between them and concentrated on the present. He held the door open and she squeezed through the narrow space between him and the door frame. The scent of aftershave floated on a breeze, and she moved quickly, suddenly uneasy.

He took her duffel and said, “Follow me.”

They crossed through French doors that led to the west wing, stopping when they reached the first room to the right. He stepped back and with a wave of his arm motioned her in.

“This will be your room.”

There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, which confused her. Until she stood m the doorway and looked in. Then she froze, dill pickles revisiting the back of her throat.

“The previous owner had a son. All the other bedrooms are in various degrees of disrepair, so I guess this will have to be it.”

In front of her was a young boy’s room, decorated in red, white and blue, a twin bed the shape of a race car with an appropriate spread. She took an involuntary step backward, a sharp intake of air sounding loud to her own ears. Her back hit Michael’s chest, but he didn’t move. Instead he gripped her shoulders and held her firm.

“You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”

She closed her eyes to what was in front of her and took a cleansing breath. It was only then she realized his hands were still on her. Warm and gentle.

She turned quickly, breaking contact. “N-no, of course not.”

He slanted her a disbelieving frown, then turned. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest.”

She vaguely remembered Michael showing her the sitting room next to hers and beyond that his own room, but whatever else she’d seen, Nicole would have to explore another time, the image of this room having occupied her thoughts.

She sat gingerly on the race car bed, buried her face in her hands and wondered for what cruel deed she was being punished to be sentenced to this room. Tenaciously, behind the darkness of her fingers, burned bright a dirt-smudged, freckled face.

No! She leaped from the bed and paced to the long, narrow window. She couldn’t afford the luxury of self-pity. There was a job to be done, money to earn. People in need.

Compartmentalize, she lectured herself. As often was the case, she imagined her heart as a large warehouse with many private chambers, each storing its own joys and pain, some atrophied with neglect, others—such as the one she accessed now—ripe with worry and longing.

Reluctantly she filed away the pain and surveyed her surroundings with a more objective eye. Someone’s little boy had actually lived here. Of that she was certain. But why? What a strange place to raise a child. As with the swing outside, Nicole wished these walls could talk. Or did she? Would she want to store another sad story?

Heavyhearted, she hiked her duffel atop the bed and found places for her meager belongings in the lone dresser—save for one item, a small photo album. She debated between the nightstand drawer and the small desk by the window, finally deciding on the desk. A less likely place for one to look.

She opened the drawer slowly. Inside was a pad of construction paper, all the colors of the rainbow, and her heart was in her throat once again. Quickly she hid her album at the back and closed the drawer. More than anything, she longed to study her precious photos, but the day had been long and dizzying enough. She shed her clothes and headed for the shower, taking her time as the refreshing spray washed away the dust from her hair and limbs, until finally she felt the soothing comfort of optimism return.

Silently she offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. She had found a safe harbor. And with God’s help, maybe more.

Of the few calls Michael had received, none had panned out. Building materials loomed at the end of the walk, challenging him to begin alone. He could do it if he had to. And he would. But not today. He looked at his watch: it was time to leave for Taylor’s.

He grabbed the keys to his work van, then remembered the bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator. Backtracking to the kitchen he stopped short when Nicole entered the living room. Her wet hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. If he didn’t know better, he’d think someone new had taken her place. Also missing was the attitude, when she crossed the room toward him.

“What time would you like supper?” she asked, almost shyly.

“Uh, well, I’m eating out tonight.” And the refrigerator was pretty bare. He should have thought of this before.

“Oh.” Suddenly she didn’t seem to know where to look.

“I’d say ‘help yourself tonight’ but there’s not much here. Just a few things I picked up on my way through Joeville. The previous owners left staples, baking stuff, but the freezer is empty.” He thought a second and came up with an idea. “I could give you some money and you could do some shopping in town.”

Her gaze flitted to her car in the drive. “Um, could I wait till tomorrow and use your car?” Then she added hastily, “A lot more bags would fit it yours.”

“Not really. The back’s full of tools and—”

She lowered her eyes. “I’m not sure I have enough gas.”

He watched embarrassment tinge her freshly scrubbed cheeks, and the urge to comfort her flared. The cocky, confident woman of earlier had been much easier to deal with. This one smelled of trouble. The kind he couldn’t afford.

“Look, Ms. Bedder—”

“Would you mind calling me Nicole?”

Michael ran a hand through his hair and hid his frustration the best he could. “Nicole...I’m just going to my sister’s, the farm next door. Why don’t you come along? We’ll worry about groceries and gas tomorrow.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

He crossed to her and tugged at her elbow. “I insist. It will be okay.” He glanced down at her and met her doelike brown eyes. “Trust me.”

Three

Nicole’s fears about being the uninvited guest were quickly dispelled when Taylor and Josh welcomed her. She’d heard plenty about the Malone dynasty—the fact that Max Malone was a legendary surgeon and that his three sons, their wives and children all lived on the sprawling miles of ranch and farmland in the shadows of the MoJoe Mountains. It just never occurred to her that the Purple Palace was next door, or that there would be a connection between the owners.

It seemed there was much to be learned about Michael Phillips, a thought that both intrigued and frightened her.

While Josh got Michael a beer, Taylor gave Nicole a quick tour of the house. Had she not known how wealthy the family was, she never would have guessed. There was nothing pretentious about their warm home.

The women were just descending the stairs to the living room when two little ones ran in from the kitchen. The toddler, trying to keep up with her big brother, tripped and fell face first on the bearskin rug in front of the open hearth.

Instinctively, Nicole ran to her, knelt down and nghted the child, who seemed startled at seeing a stranger’s face so close to hers. When her bottom lip started quivering, Nicole sat cross-legged and pulled the little girl onto her lap.

“My name’s Nicole. What’s your name?” She tucked a stray blond curl behind the little one’s ear, smiled down at her and waited patiently for a reply. Shyly the toddler held up one hand and pulled down all but two fingers.

“You’re two years old!” Nicole feigned surprise. “You’re so big for two.”

A wide smile exposed perfect little new teeth. Her eyes were big and blue like her mother’s, and Nicole knew she was hooked, the sweet scent of baby shampoo making it nearly impossible not to squeeze the child closer.

“Em—a—lee,” the little girl said, tilting her chin higher.

“Your name is Emily?”

She nodded so hard she nearly toppled over again. Nicole steadied her. “Emily is a beautiful name.”

Big brother joined them on the floor. “My name is John. My grandpa’s name was John, but he’s dead now.”

Nicole held back a chuckle. The candor of kids always amazed and delighted her. God, how she missed this. She watched John dash for the bookshelf, and she swallowed hard. Was this a blessing or a curse? Could these little ones help ease the pain? Or would they simply keep the wound open and aching?

John handed her a book and she stopped analyzing. With a smile she watched their eager faces and turned to page one.

Michael couldn’t take his eyes off Nicole. Who was this suddenly wholesome-looking woman who played so easily with children, a woman whose supposed profession seemed at the opposite spectrum from motherhood? Emily settled deeper in Nicole’s lap, resting her head against Nicole’s chest, while John allowed a gentle arm to slip around his small shoulders.

Michael leaned into the doorjamb and swigged from a bottle. Perhaps she wasn’t part of the world’s oldest profession after all. But then why look for work at the Purple Palace? He was certain she hadn’t come with remodeling in mind.

A few tendrils of hair had escaped her ponytail and fell softly down her delicate jawline, thinly veiling the dark brown eyes that seemed almost too large for her small face. He remembered how they looked when she stared at him in surprise as he’d carried her into the house, the weightless feel of her in his arms, the sense of total vulnerability, both hers and—

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Taylor whispered.

Michael turned with a start at the sound of his sister’s voice. “Yes. Seems she is.”

“I’m surprised at you, little bro.” Taylor smiled teasingly.

“Surprised at what?”

“That you’d hire a woman for your helper.”

Michael turned Taylor around and herded her into the kitchen. “Whoa. Wait a minute. I said she came about the job. I didn’t say I was hiring her for it.”

Taylor slanted him a doubtful look.

“Really. She’s broke and hungry. I said she could cook and help out, but she’ll be gone in a few days.”

“Uh-huh. We’ll see.”

“Yes, you will.”

But his sister had to have the last word. “I still can’t believe it—my brother, the cynic, a man who thinks all women lie as easily as they breathe.”

Michael caught her wrist as she started to turn. “Not all women.” He winked at her playfully. “I don’t think you do.”

Taylor’s expression grew more serious. “And neither did Mom.”

Michael dropped her wrist “Not now, sis.”

“Then when?”

Josh brushed by them and headed for the refrigerator, then stopped abruptly. “Am I interrupting something?”

Michael downed the rest of his beer and set the empty on the counter with a thud. “Just your wife sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he regretted saying them. With a quick step forward, he kissed her on the nose and tried to make amends. “But what a cute nose it is.”

Taylor continued staring at her shoes.

“I’m sorry, sis.”

She gave him a bear hug around the waist, but not before he noticed her eyes were bright with moisture. “Me, too.”

Josh uncapped another beer behind them and said, “Good. Now that that’s settled, when do we eat?”

Josh led everyone in prayer before the procession of platters and bowls started around the table. There was more food here than Nicole had seen in months. Even when she’d had her apartment in Denver and her little day care business, she’d never made this much food for one meal. She simply couldn’t afford it.

Yet as delicious as everything looked and smelled, with Michael sitting next to Nicole she only picked at her food, all too aware of his thigh occasionally brushing against hers and the seductive scent of his aftershave. It had been so long since...

“Nicole?”

She looked up with a start at the sound of Michael’s husky voice and felt heat creep up her neck to her cheeks.

“I—I’m sorry. I guess I was enjoying this marvelous meal so much I didn’t hear the question.”

“Taylor asked where you were from,” Michael repeated, the vivid blue of his eyes making it difficult for her to concentrate.

“Oh. I’m from De—” she dabbed at her mouth and regrouped “—Delaware.”

Michael shot her a dubious look from under his sandy brows, a look she’d seen a number of times today. “Really? How did you end up in Montana?”

She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, Why not Montana? “Always wanted to see the West.”

“Me, too.” Taylor smiled at her from the far end of the table. “My mother was born out here, but I was raised in Michigan. Came out here for college.”

Grateful for the shift in focus, Nicole continued the thread, trying to ignore the distraction next to her. “Is that where you met Josh?”

Josh laughed. “If she knew me from school, she’d never admit it. I guess I had a reputation with the women back then.”

“You guess?” Taylor eyed her husband with a coy smile.

Nicole watched the playful banter between the two and saw the look of love on their faces, and pain streaked straight for her heart. Whether it was envy, sadness or simply lost opportunity, she wasn’t sure. But it hurt to watch them.

“Actually, we got to know each other when I was Josh’s physical therapist. He had this wimpy little shoulder problem he insisted I treat.” Taylor winked at her husband, then looked at Nicole. “I used to work with Josh’s father. He has a clinic at the ranch up the road.”

“Do you miss it? Your therapy work, I mean.”

Taylor glanced at her husband before answering the question. “Funny you should ask. We’ve been talking about me returning part-time, but we haven’t solved the sitter situation yet. Savannah and Jenny have their hands full with their kids and the work they do at the ranch. I couldn’t ask—” She stopped talking suddenly and stared at Nicole as if seeing her for the first time, then she looked Michael’s way.

“Ouch!” Taylor reached under the table.

John asked, “What’s wrong, Mama?”

Taylor glared at Michael with an expression of pain and annoyance. “Nothing, sweetie. Just a little cramp in my leg.”

Josh, apparently seeing a problem brewing, steered the conversation back on course. “Sweetheart, tell Nicole how you saved my life.”

Taylor waved a dismissive hand before filling her mouth with potatoes and shooting Michael a last angry look.

“Okay. If you don’t want to tell it, I will.”

Nicole listened with rapt attention as Josh told of his plane crash, paralyzed legs and Taylor’s healing hands and heart in the months that followed. And again Nicole felt a tug on her heartstrings. At least some people had found their happily-ever-after.

She chastised herself for her attitude and then counted her blessings as Taylor brought out a chocolate cake and set it in front of her brother to cut. When she returned with a stack of dessert plates and sat down, she touched Michael’s arm.

“Tell us about your plans for the Palace, Michael. All you said earlier was that you were expecting some lumber.” Michael cut small pieces of cake for the children while he answered, his face warming to the subject. Nicole noticed the lines on his forehead were barely visible now, that the cynicism she’d seen all day had nearly vanished. She couldn’t help but wonder about this handsome and complex man sitting across from her. One minute he had a chip on his shoulder; the next he was warm and loving with his family.

“I don’t have a lot of free time,” Josh said, “but give a holler if you need help.”

“What about Billy?” Taylor suggested. “He’s sixteen now and really good with his hands. He might have some spare time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Michael said, passing a piece of cake to Josh.

“Gosh, I wish I had the time. You know I love carpentry.”

Michael glanced around the comfortable room. “Yes. I remember Dad and I getting the tour of your handiwork just before that Fourth of July party. I think you missed your calling.”

Josh smiled, seeming to enjoy the compliment. He ate some cake, then chuckled. “What a party that turned out to be, huh? I had this big plan all worked out to propose to Taylor during the fireworks, then Jenny went into labor. Thank God I could fly her to the hospital before the twins were born. And thank God Dad was in the plane with us. He—”

Nicole saw Michael go pale at the same time as Josh, who fell silent and didn’t seem to know where to look. Both men picked up their forks and ate more cake as the silence stretched uncomfortably. Nicole looked from one to the other, trying to puzzle it out. Had something else happened at that party?

Finally Taylor spoke, her voice a little shaky. “And after the remodeling, what do you plan to do with the place?”

Michael took his time answering, looking distracted. “I spent some time researching bed and breakfasts and they seem to be doing well out here. There isn’t one for miles around, so I thought the next owner would have a real go at it, especially if a certain family would allow tours of a working ranch, some horseback riding, maybe even a short plane ride over the MoJoes and valley.” Michael’s gaze darted to Josh but it didn’t hold.

“The next owner?” Taylor asked. “I thought you were staying.”

“I am. But could you see me as an innkeeper?” He laughed at the idea. “I’ll be lucky if I have enough money to finish the restoration. As soon as I’m done I’ll have to find a job and a place to live.”

“But close by, right?” Taylor still looked concerned.

Michael pushed out his chair and stood. “Not to worry, sis. That’s exactly the plan.” He reached for her hand, and she stood.

To Nicole’s surprise, the men offered to do dishes so the women could play with the children in the yard. She followed Taylor out onto the front porch and sat alongside her on the top step. Together they watched the sun sinking below the MoJoes, and Nicole let out a satisfied sigh. Taylor leaned back on outstretched arms and called out to John to keep an eye on his sister.

“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” she asked Nicole. “I hope I never take it for granted.”

“Yes. It is.” After a moment she added, “Thank you for dinner. It was the best meal I’ve had in ages.”

Taylor sat up and rested her elbows on her knees, her face reflecting some inner debate. “You’re very good with children. You’ve had experience, haven’t you?”

Nicole hesitated only a second. “Yes.” She wanted to volunteer more, but was afraid where the questions might lead.

“Could you provide references?”

Excitement and hope sent a shiver down her back. Could she? The mothers she’d helped would certainly recommend her, yet she couldn’t have mail sent to Joeville without the risk of being tracked down. Then she remembered yesterday and the little post office adjacent to the doughnut shop nearly fifty miles away.

She met Taylor’s hopeful smile with one of her own. “It may take a week or two, but yes, I’m sure I can.”

“Mind keeping this between us for the tune being?”

“No. Not at all.”

They watched the children and didn’t say much after that, but Nicole knew she had just made her first friend in Joeville. For a moment she thought about asking what had happened to Michael at the party, but she didn’t want to pry.

Still, the longer she thought about Taylor’s brother, the more she was certain that he had come to this place with baggage of his own. She wasn’t the only one with something to hide.