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Maybe one of her brides would want a Garden of Eden wedding where the attendants would be naked. Nick could be an extra. A fantasy to brighten her day, she thought as she returned to her office. One she would be sure to remember.
CHAPTER TWO (#uff7f7b8d-4b40-54dd-bcf7-56373bc40896)
NICK HANDED HIS brother a beer. The evening was clear and promised to be cold, but for now it was warm enough. They sat on Mathias’s back patio, overlooking the sixteenth hole of the golf course to the right. To the left was, well, definitely an open, grassy area. It wasn’t the landscape that required an explanation so much as the residents.
“You’ll get used to it,” Mathias offered as Nick stared at the shapes moving in the near twilight. “They head in for the night.”
“To what? A barn?”
“I’ve never asked,” Mathias admitted. “Something. My guess is they get out of the open to avoid predators.”
Nick didn’t bother pointing out there weren’t any predators—at least not that he knew about. Instinct was instinct and he’d long since learned there was no arguing with nature.
A couple miles southwest of town, just beyond the golf course, were hundreds of acres of grassland. If you kept going, you got to the city dump—a high-tech, ecofriendly kind of place where everything that could be recycled or reclaimed was. But the most interesting part wasn’t the fact that Happily Inc had one of the lowest trash-to-resident ratios in the country, it was the animals that made the grasslands between the dump and the golf course their home.
So far Nick had seen zebras, gazelles and something that looked a lot like a water buffalo. All grazing animals. In the past few days, he would swear he’d seen a giraffe strolling around, but that could have been a trick of the light.
“It’s odd,” he muttered, then took a drink of his beer.
“We grew up in Fool’s Gold,” Mathias pointed out. “We don’t get to say any other town is odd.”
That was probably true, Nick told himself. And a reason why he was already comfortable in Happily Inc. Once you’d lived in a weird place, it was hard to settle for normal.
But there were differences. Fool’s Gold was in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Happily Inc was on the edge of the desert. There were mountains in both towns, but the ones here seemed newer, with sharper peaks and more edges. As interesting to his artist’s eyes were the changes in colors. Dawns were a mix of oxblood and carnelian with umber and sepia for shading.
He’d been in town for three weeks. Mathias owned a ridiculously large house on the edge of the golf course and had offered him a place to stay until he figured out what he wanted to do.
“Why’d you move here?” Nick asked. “Why not Sedona or some artists’ village in Tennessee?”
“Atsuko was already selling our work,” Mathias said, mentioning the gallery owner in town. “She wanted us to meet, and when she heard we were leaving Fool’s Gold, she suggested we stop by and visit her. One thing led to another and here we are.”
His brothers had a sweet setup, Nick thought. Atsuko had contacts all over the world. With her acting as broker, they didn’t have to bother with the business side of what they did. Instead they could focus on their art. Their studio was large and open. They had each other for company and yet plenty of space.
While Mathias lived here, by the golf course and the zebras, Ronan had a house up in the mountains. Built mostly of stone and native materials, the structure blended perfectly with the surroundings. There was even a large studio out back, when Ronan didn’t want to make the drive into town.
When Nick had figured out it was time for him to get somewhere else, he’d considered a lot of options, but Happily Inc had been the obvious choice. Especially with the Dubai commission looming.
Twilight turned to night. There were a million stars out here. Nick studied the sky and wondered if they were far enough south for it to be different from what he was used to. Probably not.
“Any regrets about leaving?” Nick asked.
“No.”
Because of their father, Nick thought grimly. Ceallach had made an impression on all of them. Some good and a lot bad.
There were five Mitchell sons. The oldest two hadn’t been blessed—or was it cursed?—with any form of Ceallach’s talent. They had been mostly ignored by their father, while the younger three had gotten the brunt of his attention.
“Ronan okay?” he asked. Their youngest brother had had the most to deal with.
“We don’t talk about it.”
“Still?”
“Always.”
Which had to be a bear. Mathias and Ronan had always been tight. Probably because they were twins—or they used to be.
Neither of them would want to talk about that so he changed the subject. “How was your date Saturday night?”
Mathias looked at him over his beer bottle. “It wasn’t a date.”
“You didn’t take a woman to dinner, and then have sex with her?”
“Yeah, sure, I did that.”
“How is it not a date?”
“I’ll never see her again.”
“I guess that does change the definition.”
Since moving to Happily Inc, Mathias had started taking up with the various bridesmaids that came into town. He hooked up with them for a night or two, then they were gone.
Nick enjoyed women as much as the next guy, but he’d never been that into volume, or variety. He liked the idea of having someone in his life—as long as he could keep things under control. He wanted enough passion for things to be interesting, but not so much that he was consumed. Sometimes that balance was difficult to find so he erred on the side of not doing.
“Just be careful,” Nick warned. “You don’t want some woman coming back in six months and saying she’s madly in love with you.”
“Not gonna happen.”
Nick hoped he was right.
“Atsuko says you’re going to be working for one of the wedding venues,” Mathias said.
“Yup. Weddings in a Box.”
His brother frowned. “Doing what? Folding napkins?”
“I’ve never folded napkins. It could be interesting.”
Mathias stared at him. “Do I have to worry about you?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
His brother’s stare turned into a glare. Nick laughed. “I’m going to be restoring two sets of wooden panels. They’re old and in bad shape. The work is brilliant. I need to do some research to see if I can figure out who made them.”
“You should ask Atsuko. She knows things and has a lot of connections in the art world.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll take some pictures and see if she can show them around.”
He’d only known the gallery owner a few weeks but he was already impressed. The fifty-something woman had buyers everywhere. She drove a hard bargain, got an excellent price, then handled shipping. He’d sold more through Atsuko in the past three weeks than in the past three years.
His father’s philosophy had always been to let the art buyer come to him. Nick was beginning to believe that was a very shortsighted way of doing business.
“Heard anything on the Dubai commission?” Mathias asked.
“No. It’s going to be a couple of months until they decide. Then I’ll have to figure out what I want to do. Two years is a long time.”
“Is this where I point out you don’t have the job yet?”
Nick grinned. “Hey, it’s me. Who else would they give it to?”
“Someone with talent.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Not of you, big brother.”
Nick laughed and turned his attention back to the night. “Any bats around here?”
“Scared?”
“Intrigued. I keep getting flashes of a piece that has a lot of bats in it.”
Mathias shook his head. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“Probably.”
“Bats. Fruit or vampire?”
“Fruit. I think. I should do some research.”
“On bats.” Mathias took a drink of beer. “Do you think Mom dropped you on your head when you were little?”
Nick laughed. “Not as often as she did you.”
* * *
WHILE PALLAS ENJOYED lunch out with friends as much as the next woman, lunch with her mother was a completely different animal. First there were the logistics involved. They didn’t trade off picking restaurants. Instead the command performance always occurred in the bank’s executive dining room. A fancy title for a slightly nicer than average display of tables and chairs in a square, windowless room. There wasn’t a kitchen, so food was brought in. Still, there was an assigned server and white tablecloths were the norm. All of which meant changing from her usual jeans and T-shirt into a dress.
As she drove across the river to the north side of town, Pallas told herself she would be fine. She’d been dealing with her mother for twenty-eight years. She knew how to get through the conversations with a minimum of pain and judgment. She just had to smile and nod and say what was expected. No big deal.
Except it always was a big deal—one way or another.
All her life Pallas had wanted desperately to please her mother, which shouldn’t have been a problem. Libby Saunders loved rules. The most sensible plan would have been for Pallas to follow said rules and voilà—motherly love. Only it hadn’t worked out that way. Not even once.
Perhaps it had something to do with the old saying about the road to hell and good intentions. Or the fact that Pallas had felt torn between wanting to make her mother happy and wanting to make herself happy. Whatever the reason, her childhood had been an ongoing battle—one she’d never won. Not for a lack of trying.
Cade, her twin brother, had been much smarter. He’d simply withdrawn from the field of conflict and had gone his own way. Emotionally and physically. Pallas still remembered their shared fifth birthday. Libby had asked her children if they wanted to work in the bank when they grew up. Pallas had immediately said she did, even though she had no understanding of what “working in the bank” meant. All she knew was that her mom went there every day and it was important and that working in the bank would make her mom love her enough that she didn’t feel scared inside.
Cade had smiled that happy smile of his and said, “No. I’m going to grow up to be a cowboy.”
Libby had been unamused, but Cade stood firm. He loved horses, not stuffy banks. He’d never once wavered. At eighteen, Pallas had dutifully gone off to college to major in finance and Cade had taken off to learn his trade at a famous breeding farm in Kentucky. Five years later, he’d moved on to Texas.
They stayed in touch, and from everything he’d told her, he was blissfully happy. Life away from Libby and the bank was, apparently, very good. Pallas wouldn’t know. She was still trying to prove herself to the stern matriarch of the family.
Pallas parked in the customer parking lot, careful to take a spot at the far end so as not to inconvenience anyone, then walked into the bank.
Her great-great-grandfather had established California First Savings and Loan in 1891. It wasn’t the first S and L in the state by a long shot, or even the second, but it was still standing and she figured that had to be a point of pride. A lot of people thought that if she came from a banking family, she must be rich. Alas, no. While her grandfather had been the only one to inherit, he’d produced seven daughters, all of whom had children. Not only was Pallas’s sliver incredibly tiny, she wouldn’t inherit anything until she was thirty-nine. Because if nothing else, Grandpa Frank had a sense of humor.
So making her own way in the world wasn’t an option and she had the student loans to prove it. She also had Gerald’s business, which wasn’t exactly the shining example of flush.
It was early April. Except for one oddly vacant date in June, she had a wedding booked every weekend from now until late September. If all went well, she would be able to pay her bills, make a few repairs and continue to take a small salary herself. Assuming she kept the business. Because as much as she loved Gerald and appreciated his completely unexpected gift, she’d never planned on making Weddings in a Box her life’s work. She’d always thought she would go to work with her mother at the bank.
Pallas walked into the old, Spanish-style building. The combination of high ceilings and dark wood made her feel as if she were stepping back to a more elegant time. A floor-to-ceiling mural depicting the desert at sunrise dominated the east wall. It had been an old WPA project paid for by the government during the Great Depression in the last century. For reasons not clear to Pallas, her mother had always hated the mural, but there was nothing to be done. It was as much a part of the bank as the marble floors and old-fashioned teller windows.
She passed through the lobby and headed toward the executive suites. Despite her brisk steps, she felt a growing need to bolt for the door. Her stomach clenched and her chest tightened. When Pallas was ten feet from the door to her mother’s office, Libby stepped out into the hall and gave her a tight smile.
Pallas instantly felt as if she were eight years old and had broken a treasured plate. Or tracked mud on the floor. Or been responsible for one of a million transgressions that had marked her childhood.
“Hello, Pallas.”
“Mom.”
Libby offered her cheek for the expected brief kiss. The Saunders clan weren’t much for hugging.
Pallas had inherited her brown hair and average height from her mother. She knew she had her father’s hazel eyes, but other than that, Libby’s genes dominated. Their smiles were the same, as was the way they walked. As a teenager, Pallas had hated looking so much like her mother. Eventually she’d surrendered to the fact and had tried to appreciate that despite the passing years, Libby never seemed to age. At least that was something to look forward to.
As always, her mother wore a dark suit and a white blouse—appropriate attire for her senior vice president position. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her makeup was light and tasteful, her jewelry elegant and simple. Pearl studs and, despite being a widow for eighteen years, a gold wedding band.
“Thank you for being able to make lunch,” Libby said as she led the way to the small dining room.
Pallas didn’t know what to say to that. “My pleasure” wasn’t exactly the truth and “You’re welcome” seemed oddly snarky. She settled on a noncommittal throat noise.
As per usual, the table was set with china and crystal. Two large delivery bags sat on the sideboard. As a kid, Pallas had been so impressed to learn that any restaurant in town would happily bring in food for lunch. Now she wondered why Libby couldn’t simply go get a sandwich or bring her lunch from home like the rest of America.
She also noted the lack of server, which was not a good sign. Not that she needed anyone plating her food—it was more that Libby didn’t want anyone else overhearing their conversation. Pallas spent a couple of seconds trying to figure out what she’d done wrong this time, before giving up. No way could she guess. Besides, Libby would tell her over and over again, when she was ready.
“Would you like to dish us up?” Libby asked, taking her seat.
“Sure.”
Pallas brought the bags to the table and opened them.
Inside the first were green salads, broiled chicken and a side of vegetables. The second bag contained bottled iced tea and one roll, along with a single, tiny square of butter. The latter were for her, Pallas thought, not sure if she should be amused or not. Libby wouldn’t eat carbs at lunch.
Pallas put the food onto plates, and then collected ice from the small refrigerator in the corner. Her mother poured the iced tea and they sat across from each other.
Pallas told herself that there was no need to feel defiant, yet she took two spoonfuls of salad dressing to her mother’s delicate drizzle. What was it about being around Libby that made her feel like a cranky preadolescent?
