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Not much. In fact, he had a strong feeling that the less he knew, the less involved he got with anyone in this town, the better.
CHAPTER TWO
THE BOSS LADY was hot about something. Matt could see her pacing the porch as he turned his truck into her long gravel driveway. As soon as she heard his engine, she tossed her braid over her shoulder and stalked into the house. He could practically hear the door slam.
This should be fun, he thought as he pulled to a stop. He hadn’t slept much the night before and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face Tara in a snit. She reappeared almost immediately with a cell phone, scanning the horizon as she held it to her ear. The boss lady had cleaned up, and rather nicely, too. Instead of baggy jeans, she wore tan denims that did justice to her long legs and a scoop-necked blue shirt that hugged her breasts and flat abdomen. A chain with some kind of a pendant nestled in an interesting hint of cleavage. She looked…different.
She watched him get out of the truck, still holding the phone to her ear. It was fortunate, Matt thought, taking in her killer expression, that he had expertise dealing with people in all kinds of moods.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly as he came to the bottom step.
“Brothers.” She let out an aggravated breath as she lowered the phone, but Matt saw anxiety as well as irritation in her eyes.
“Anything I can do?”
She opened her mouth to answer, and then her expression changed. Matt followed her gaze and saw a plume of dust in the distance. When the vehicle came close enough to identify, Matt shifted his attention to Tara, watching as her face first softened with relief, then tightened again. This did not bode well for the troublesome brother.
Tara stalked down the steps and brushed past Matt as an older silver Dodge pickup pulled in between his truck and a Toyota Camry. A fair-haired kid in his late teens or very early twenties was at the wheel and Matt could tell that he knew he was in trouble.
“You said you’d be home last night,” Tara hissed at her brother, who tried a sheepish grin, then gave up. “I had assumed that meant before the sun came up!”
The brother got out of the truck. “I’m sorry, T. Josh and I got stuck up behind Bounty Peak.” He gestured at the muddy undercarriage of the Dodge. “My cell wouldn’t get service there.”
Tara sucked in a breath and let it out again. “Listen to me. In the future, you call. I don’t care if you have to hike to the top of Bounty Peak to get service, you call.” She pushed a piece of paper into her brother’s hand. “And I’m sure I don’t want to know why you were behind Bounty Peak in the first place. Here’s the list we talked about. Do what you can. I’ve gotta go.”
Matt had seen the same look on his mother’s face more than once during his own turbulent teens—fully justified fear, followed by relief, and then anger at being made to worry unnecessarily. He felt a little sorry for both Tara and the kid.
“I’m late for an appointment,” Tara explained abruptly. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. You’re pretty well lined out, aren’t you?”
Matt nodded and Tara gave her brother one more smoldering look before walking swiftly to the Toyota, muttering under her breath. Matt and the brother stood side by side as the car peeled out of the driveway and turned onto the county road.
“She yells at me when I do that.” The blond kid turned to Matt. “I’m Nicky Sullivan.”
“Matt Connors. You worried her,” Matt said as he shook the kid’s hand.
“Yeah. I guess I should have called when we got out of that mud hole,” he admitted, “but I figured I’d be home in an hour.” He tilted his head, his blue eyes narrowing. “And I think I’m old enough to stay out all night if I want to.”
“Probably not to her.”
“I guess,” the kid agreed. “Hey, you want some breakfast before you get started?”
Matt shook his head. “I had the special at the Owl.”
Nicky grimaced. “Sorry, man.”
Matt smiled in spite of himself. Dinners weren’t bad at the casino, but breakfast had proven to be an adventure. Eggs came in one form. Bouncy. Bacon bordered on scorched. The toast was usually okay, though, and that was what he’d ended up eating that morning after trying all the various components of the special.
“Come on, at least have some coffee. Tara makes great coffee.”
A thermal carafe sat on the counter of the obviously recently renovated kitchen and Nicky shook it. It sloshed reassuringly and he reached for two mugs.
“If I had been any later, she’d have dumped it out,” Nicky reflected as he poured.
“Important appointment?”
“It is for her.” Nicky settled on one of the antique chairs and stretched out his legs. He took a drink of coffee, closed his eyes, took another. “Long night,” he muttered. “Anyway, the local school is celebrating its centennial this year and there’s going to be a big reunion of all graduates. Tara wants a piece of the action.”
“How so?” The coffee smelled great. Matt took a seat on the opposite side of the table and sipped. Star-bucks, move over.
“She wants to use the reunion to help her kick off her bed-and-breakfast business. She’s trying to host a function here.”
“Bed-and-breakfast?” Matt almost dropped his cup. Tara Sullivan was going to deal with the general public? Nicky smiled at him.
“She’s good with paying customers,” the kid said, accurately interpreting Matt’s expression. “We lived in the basement apartment of a bed-and-breakfast for five years while she was going to college. She ended up running the place from time to time for the owners, so she knows what she’s doing. Of course, getting the house ready in time is kind of a challenge.”
“The kitchen’s not bad,” Matt said tactfully. Only the worn linoleum needed replacing. Everything else, from the fancy retro range to the huge fridge, looked new.
“You should see the rest of the place—and I’m only here for ten days. I’ll do what I can, but frankly, I have no idea what I’m doing.” Nicky rolled his shoulders, working the kinks out. “Believe it or not, I’m an engineering student. But I’m a lot better with calculations than I am with a hammer and a saw.”
Matt enjoyed the kid’s candor. “Why doesn’t she just hire a contractor? Money?”
Nicky grew serious. “She has to watch the budget, but the problem is all the local contractors are ‘booked.’” He said the word in a way that caught Matt’s attention.
“What do you mean ‘booked’?”
Nicky’s mouth tightened into a semblance of his sister’s smirk, but it wasn’t nearly as deadly. “She’d kill me for talking about this, but it’s nothing you won’t hear in town. There’s this family that runs an inn nearby. Real successful.”
“Somers Country Inn?”
“That’s the one. They’re ticked off that Tara is opening a competing business.”
Matt frowned. He’d seen the Somers Country Inn when he’d been driving around a few days before, trying to fill the empty hours, trying not to think. It was a few miles away from the Sullivan place—a huge two-story cedar ranch-style building surrounded by picturesque cabins, outbuildings, split-rail fences and giant cottonwood trees. It smacked of luxurious hospitality with a pseudorustic flavor. The kind of exclusive out-of-the-way place where the rich would go to rough it. There was no way that Tara’s little Victorian, even if it were fixed and decorated, could compete with that place.
“Rumor has it, and it’s only a rumor,” Nicky added in a way that made it clear it was anything but a rumor, “old man Somers has fixed it so that nobody wants to work with Tara. I mean, we had no trouble getting help with the roof, the foundation and the kitchen. It wasn’t until the plumbing…”
“What happened with the plumbing?”
“When we changed it over from iron to PVC, she had the guys plumb in a bunch of bathrooms—one for each bedroom, you know. That’s when the community found out she was planning to open a bed-and-breakfast, and suddenly no one was available.”
Matt gave the kid a long look before draining his cup. Nicky filled it again without asking.
“She finally got an electrician to come from Elko, but he was twice as expensive as the local guy. Now all that’s left are the floors, walls and stuff that needs to be fixed like the doors and the porch. Luke tries to do what he can around here, but he gets those arthritis attacks.” Nicky nodded at Matt over his coffee cup. “It’s decent of you to help him out.”
“No problem,” he replied, looking at his watch. “Any idea what time your sister will be back?”
Nicky shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.” He pulled the paper Tara had given him out of his pocket and smoothed it on the table. “But since this list is twice as long as it was the last time I saw it, I think I’d better get busy.”
TARA PUSHED OPEN one of the double doors of the convention room at the community center. She was late for her first meeting of the Night Sky Business Association and she would have to make an entrance instead of slipping in as she’d originally planned.
Almost every chair in the room was filled and all heads turned her way as she started down the aisle between the rows, looking for an empty seat. A few people seemed surprised to see her, but most just stared unsmiling or nodded. She wondered, as she always did, if anyone was sincere in offering the simple greeting. She was, after all, a Sullivan. Daughter of a convicted felon and the latest in a long line of troublemakers.
Her mother’s family had been upstanding citizens, but no one seemed to remember that, and she couldn’t really blame them. Almost everyone here had had some sort of unpleasant run-in with a member of her late father’s family.
Martin Somers was in the front row, dressed in his expensive faux cowboy clothes, his thick gray hair perfectly combed. He, too, nodded as she advanced down the aisle, but it was only for show. He was just like his son—charming and personable until you scratched the surface. Too bad more people didn’t figure that out. Too bad she had to figure it out the hard way.
She scanned the room until she finally connected with one honest-to-goodness friendly face, an ally. Jack Hamish gestured to the empty chair next to him.
“Hey, Tara.”
“Hi, Jack.” Tara nodded at the giant of a man she’d known since he’d been the biggest kid in their kindergarten class. “Thanks for the seat,” she murmured as she sat. “Are these meetings always this crowded?”
“Could I please have your attention?” The microphone whistled before Jack could answer and Tara glanced up to see perfect Stacia Logan adjust the stand, a glittery bracelet sliding up her tanned forearm with the movement.
“I’d like to welcome you to this combined meeting of the Night Sky High School Centennial committee and the Night Sky Business Association.
“A little background for those of you who were unable to attend our first meeting last week. My company, Night Sky Development, has been contracted by the chamber of commerce to ensure the smooth operation of the hundredth reunion of the high school. The chamber and I, in association with various Night Sky high class officers, have been hard at work for almost six months planning this event. We’ve made a lot of headway, but there’s still a lot to do and that’s where you come in.” She paused for emphasis before continuing.
“We have several hundred people coming. I’m certain that a lot of them will be staying with family, but those who aren’t will need rooms. For that reason we’ll be making and sending out brochures listing accommodations along with the schedule of events within the next few days. What we need today is an idea of how many rooms you will have available, price, etcetera, as well as input into where to hold the various functions. We’d also like to hear ideas for activities and promotions we might not have thought of….”
Stacia continued her spiel and, as Tara listened, she calculated what she had to do to have the house completed by June 24.
“Stacia?” Martin’s voice jarred Tara back to the present. “I have a comment. I think that we should have stipulations regarding the accommodations brochure.”
“Stipulations?” Stacia asked with eloquently raised eyebrows, giving Tara the distinct impression that she was delivering a rehearsed line.
“Yes. I think we should require that only accommodations up and running on the day we mail the brochure be included, just in case,” he emphasized the words, “the promised rooms are not available.”
There was only one establishment that he could have been referring to, only one establishment that wasn’t currently operational, and everyone knew it. Tara’s blood pressure jacked up, but she made an effort to control herself as she said in a calm, clear voice, “Are you talking about my place, Martin? Because if you are, I can assure you my accommodations will be done on time.”
Martin scowled at her. “How can you guarantee that?”
“The same way you can guarantee that your establishment will have all of its rooms available. Can you be absolutely certain there won’t be a fire or flood—or some other disaster—at your place before the reunion?”
Tara raised her eyebrows, but before Martin could reply, a snide whisper came from the back of the room. “Gee, who would set fire to Martin’s place?”
A muffled chuckle followed and Tara stifled a groan. Everyone knew Tara’s uncle had once attempted a career in arson insurance fraud. He might have been successful, too, if he hadn’t locked himself into the first old building he’d tried to torch, leading to his subsequent rescue, arrest and prosecution. Surprisingly though, other than her father, he was the only Sullivan who’d spent any significant time in jail. Most of the rest of the family managed to get away with time served.
The laughter grew, but somehow Tara kept from shifting in her chair to face the person who had made the comment. Jack didn’t. He turned and glared.
“Martin has a point,” an elderly woman announced with prim conviction, bringing attention back to the front.
“So does Tara,” came another unidentified voice from across the room.
This time Tara did turn, but she couldn’t identify her surprise defender.
“Look,” she said, wanting to put a stop to the debate, “my rooms will be ready. I wouldn’t put myself on the accommodations list otherwise.” She paused, and then added in a low voice, “So, I’ll tell you what, Martin. You worry about your establishment and I’ll worry about mine. I wouldn’t think my five rooms would be that much of a threat to you.”
Martin’s face reddened slightly as a few low chuckles bounced around the room. Stacia tapped the microphone for quiet and Martin turned abruptly toward the front of the room. Tara suspected she hadn’t heard the last from him.
“So, are you really going to have that monstrosity up and running by the reunion?” Jack asked an hour later as he held the door open for Tara.
“I’ll have at least two floors done,” Tara said as they stepped out into the unseasonable heat. “Maybe three if my carpenter hangs around.”
“I’d help you if I weren’t so damned busy at the casino. Losing the assistant manager really cramped me up hourwise.”
“I’m doing okay,” Tara said in a tone she almost believed. “You know, I didn’t expect to be accepted at these meetings with open arms, but I didn’t expect Martin to launch a public attack, either.”
She stopped at her car and unlocked the door. “I guess I should have been nicer to his son.”
“Or vice versa,” Jack replied evenly.
She smiled, but didn’t reply. She was just glad Ryan Somers hadn’t been at the meeting. Night Sky was small and she had to run into him every now and then, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Well,” Jack said, settling a big hand on her shoulder, “congratulations on surviving your first business association meeting.”
“No thanks to Martin…or Stacia,” Tara added. “I wonder what’s up with her?”
She and Stacia had never been friends, but they’d never been enemies, either. They’d simply traveled in different social circles having little to do with each other.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Honey, if you spent less time in that big old house, you’d know that Stacia and Ryan Somers are a couple.”
“Stacia and Ryan?”
“They’re engaged.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “No.” Jack was right. She had to get out more.
“For over a week, I think.”
“How perfect,” Tara murmured, turning the idea over in her mind. Ryan liked money. Stacia had money. “Perhaps Ryan has spoken of me in an unflattering way.”
“Yes,” Jack agreed in a like tone, “and rumor has it you also spoke poorly of Martin Somers in the bank yesterday. Mrs. Randall told the girls all about it at lunch.”
“Guilty,” Tara admitted without a trace of remorse.
“Stacia mustn’t like having her future father-in-law disrespected,” Jack surmised. “You have to remember, Tara, that it does not pay to cross the prom queen.”
“I was the prom queen,” Tara reminded him in a dark tone. It still made her cringe when she thought about it.
“Yes, but in my heart,” Jack replied solemnly, “Stacia will always be queen.”
“Yours and hers.” Tara grinned before she opened the car door. “I gotta go, Jack.”
“I’ll save you a seat next week.”
“I’m counting on you.”
NICKY WORKED DILIGENTLY around the house, checking tasks off his list and stopping every now and then to talk. He was an earnest, likeable kid and Matt didn’t have the heart to shut him down when he’d asked about Matt’s background. It was the last thing Matt wanted to discuss. He’d made a vague reply and steered the discussion back to Nicky and his college plans.
