“It would give you a reason to stick around and watch your kids.”
“Brothers.”
“Whatever. You’ll be part of the production staff.” Geoff placed his hand on his chest. “I have family. I know what it’s like to care about someone.”
Finn doubted Geoff cared about anything or any one but Geoff. “I would be there while you were filming?”
“As long as you didn’t get in the way or cause trouble. Sure. We’ve got some chick from the city hanging around already.” He shrugged. “Denny, Darlene. Something.”
“Dakota,” Finn said dryly.
“Right. Her. Stick with her. She’s gotta make sure we don’t hurt her precious town.” Geoff rolled his eyes. “I swear, my next gig is going to be filming in the wilderness. Bears don’t have demands, you know? That’s a whole lot easier than this. So what do you say?”
What Finn wanted to say was no. He didn’t want to hang around while they filmed their reality show. He wanted his brothers back in college, and he wanted to return to South Salmon and get on with his life.
Standing between him and that was the fact that his brothers weren’t going to go home until this was over. His choices were to agree or walk away. If he walked away, how could he make sure Geoff and everyone else didn’t screw them?
“I’ll stay,” he said. “Fly you where you need to go.”
“Good. Talk to that Dakota chick. She’ll take care of you.”
Finn wondered how she would feel about him hanging around.
“Maybe the twins will be voted off early,” Geoff said, opening the trailer door and stepping inside.
“My luck’s not that good.”
DAKOTA WALKED to her mother’s house. The morning was still cool, with a bright blue sky and the mountains to the east. Spring had come right on time, so all the trees were thick with leaves, and daffodils, crocuses and tulips lined nearly every walkway. Although it was before ten, there were plenty of people out on the sidewalks, residents as well as tourists. Fool’s Gold was the kind of place where it was easier to walk to where you were going. The sidewalks were wide, and pedestrians always had the right of way.
She turned onto the street where she’d grown up. Her parents had bought the place shortly after they’d married. All six of their children had grown up here. Dakota had shared a room with her two sisters, the three of them preferring to live in the one bedroom through high school, even after their older brothers had moved out.
The windows had been replaced a couple of years ago, the roof a few years before that. The paint color was cream instead of green, the trees taller, but little else had changed. Even with all six kids out on their own, Denise still kept the house.
She walked around to the backyard. Her mother had said she would be spending much of the week working on the garden.
Sure enough, when she opened the gate, she found Denise Hendrix kneeling on a thick, yellow pad, digging vigorously. There were tattered remains of unworthy plants scattered on the grass by the flower beds. Her mother wore jeans, a Tinkerbell hoodie over a pink T-shirt and a big straw hat.
“Hi, Mom.”
Denise looked up and smiled. “Hi, honey. Was I expecting you?”
“No. I just stopped by.”
“Good.” Her mom stood and stretched. “I don’t get it. I cleaned up the garden last fall. Why do I have to clean it again in the spring? What exactly are my plants doing all winter? How can everything get so messy, so quickly?”
Dakota crossed to her mother and hugged her, then kissed her cheek. “You’re talking to the wrong person. I don’t do the garden thing.”
“None of you do. I obviously failed as a parent.” She sighed theatrically.
Denise had been a young bride to Ralph Hendrix. Theirs had been a case of love at first sight, followed by a very quick wedding. She’d had three boys in five years, followed by triplet girls. Dakota remembered a crowded house with plenty of laughter. They’d always been close, drawn more so by the death of their father nearly eleven years before.
Ralph’s unexpected passing had crushed Denise but not destroyed her. She’d pulled herself together—most likely for the sake of her children—and gone on with her life. She was pretty, vibrant and could pass for a woman in her early forties.
Now she led the way through the backdoor, into the kitchen. It had been remodeled a few years ago, but no matter how it looked, the bright open space was always the center of the home. Denise was nothing if not traditional.
“Maybe you should get a gardener,” Dakota said as she collected two glasses from the cupboard.
While her mother pulled out a pitcher of iced tea, Dakota filled the glasses with ice cubes, then checked the cookie jar. The smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies drifted to her. She tucked the ceramic ladybug container under one arm and made her way to the kitchen table.