A Town Called Valentine

chapter Four



Nate hadn’t thought the destruction in the old restaurant could look any worse in the daylight, but he’d been wrong. It was as if a demon had been set loose. He was tempted to haul Scout back by the collar. But there was Emily, wide-eyed and lovely, the dirt streaking her face evidence of the work she’d already put in that morning.

And there was that thin t-shirt, clinging to her damply.

Emily lifted a hand before he could speak. “You don’t need to remind me. I promise to be out of your grandmother’s hair quickly. Now you can go on and”—she tilted her head and spotted his mountain bike leaning against the front of the building, helmet dangling from the handle—“ride your bike, knowing you’ve put the fear of God into me. Is this how cowboys get around in the mountains now?”

He frowned. “Grandma likes to meet new people. She called me right after you left to say you’d been so sweet to them. Hard to believe right now.”

He hadn’t meant to antagonize her, especially since he felt uncomfortable about all the work she had in store for herself. But from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, she’d drawn him like steel to a magnet, and he knew he had to pull away. Her building wasn’t his problem—she wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself.

Her chin came up, and those sky blue eyes glittered. “Your grandmother is a lovely person.”

Unlike you, seemed to be her unspoken words.

“And I am grateful to her for agreeing to let me briefly stay there,” she continued. “I have offered to pay rent.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You think I haven’t?” she asked icily.

He held up a placating hand. “No, I just know my grandmother. Taking care of you will make her day.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

He said nothing, hoping that was true.

She put her hands on her hips. “Did you just come by to annoy me or to watch me work and have a good laugh at my expense?”

“I haven’t laughed,” he said. She was touchy, but he couldn’t blame her. This was damn awkward between them.

“So you meant to annoy. Why are you checking up on me? Here are the details, if you absolutely need them. My building is a disaster that will take weeks to repair and keep me here even longer. They can’t turn the electricity on for two days, so my hours are limited, further lengthening my time in Valentine Valley. Oh—and my car needs to be towed. Does that satisfy all your questions?”

Nothing the two of them said to each other was going to work after their abrupt encounter last night. “Look,” he said with a sigh, “I didn’t come to check up on you. I just wanted to tell you I had your car towed to Ute Auto Repair, which is at the gas station at the end of Main Street back by the highway. They’ll give you an estimate. You can trust them.”

He was at least gratified to see her hostile expression turn wide-eyed before she winced at his news about her car.

“Let me get my purse and pay you for the towing. I don’t want to owe you after last night.”

“Owe me?” he said in disbelief. “You think I’ll hold that little bit of money over your head to get something out of you?”

She looked so mutinous, he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. And he deserved her suspicion.

“Look, I’m sorry about everything. I’ve got to go ride my little bike up into those tall mountains and try not to slide on my face in the springtime mud. But you have a pleasant day.”

Then he turned around and strode out the door, whistling for Scout.

Emily clapped both hands over her face, wondering how many times her own behavior could mortify her. He’d done her another favor, on top of all the others. This, after he’d been so angry that she’d turned him down last night. She must be giving off a very needy vibe. She didn’t want to be that woman!

Or had he simply been drunk and angry, just like she’d been drunk and a tease? She didn’t want to contemplate that, didn’t want to think too nicely about him. She wasn’t in Valentine Valley to make friends with men.

“Hello?”

Emily gasped and stumbled over a broken chair.

“I’m so sorry!”

Emily looked up to see a pretty, young, black woman with shoulder-length curls framing her elegant face like sunbeams. With her high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes, she could have been a model. Instead, she was dressed casually in capris, sandals, and a sleeveless blouse, as if she was anticipating summer to arrive momentarily.

The woman reached toward her as Emily stumbled over another chair. “Can I help you?”

Emily pushed the chair aside. “Only if you want to get filthy.”

The woman grinned. “I wouldn’t mind a little dirt for a good cause. But what I really want to do is meet the person who put that thundercloud on Nate Thalberg’s face.”

Emily felt her cheeks heat up. “It wasn’t exactly intentional, but I can’t seem to help it. We . . . don’t get along.” She sighed. “I’m Emily Murphy.”

“Monica Shaw. I own the flower shop next door.”

“Monica’s Flowers and Gifts. I thought your window displays looked adorable, all decorated for spring. The crocheted flower baby caps were an inspired idea.” And had made her positively ache, remembering her own baby’s kicks, the way she’d held her belly between both hands, as if she were already trying to protect the little girl. But she hadn’t been able to protect her from whatever whims of fate had chosen to curse Emily. And there would never be another baby inside her. After a shaky start, Emily was dealing with it the best way she could.

“The crafts are part of the ‘and Gifts,’ ” Monica continued. “Tourists are really into the romance thing in Valentine Valley, and babies are a natural result. I take in local craft products on a consignment basis.”

“Another inspired idea,” Emily said, stepping over junk on the floor to approach the other woman. Though she had work to do, she wouldn’t rudely ask the woman to leave.

“They sell,” Monica said with a smile and a shrug. “My craft partners and I all end up happy. Wedding-bed quilts are my number one selling item—after my flowers,” she added self-deprecatingly.

“I only just arrived last night, so I haven’t had a chance to wander around. Guess wedding items make sense for tourists in Valentine.”

“Oh, you have no idea. We’re sort of famous around here for romance. Many a love affair has blossomed here. Haven’t you seen all the lovers holding hands?”

“I did notice a few.”

“And the proposals? Girl, I swear there’s one every other day at the gazebo, or the stone bridge in the Rose Garden. The demand for Valentine Valley postmarks on wedding invitations keeps our post office overworked. And luckily, they always want flowers. I’m not complaining, you understand.”

“I understand.” Emily reluctantly smiled, feeling more and more lured in by Monica’s cheerfulness.

“So you only arrived in town last night?”

Emily explained her plans to sell the building.

Monica looked around sympathetically. “Those people were a*sholes, and I didn’t need to see this disaster to know that. They had flower arrangements for their tables shipped in from Aspen! Like I can’t get flowers just as good thirty miles down the road. More expensive in Aspen, that’s for certain. No wonder they went under.”

Emily didn’t mention the slight increase in the rent.

“Sorry to see you have all this work ahead of you,” Monica said. “Are you hiring help?”

Emily hesitated. “Not right now.”

If Monica grasped Emily’s financial predicament, she didn’t give any indication of pity, which Emily appreciated.

“You’ll do a fine job of it,” Monica continued.

“You can tell that already?” Emily sarcastically spread her hands wide, indicating the state of the building.

“Come on, let’s sit outside. My break is almost over, and I want to enjoy the sun.”

Emily knew she shouldn’t, but her back was aching, along with her feet, so she followed Monica outside. There were wrought-iron benches beneath the plate-glass windows on either side of the front door, perhaps meant for customers waiting for a table. Emily sat down beside Monica, stretched out her legs with a sigh, and lifted her face for the sun’s warmth.

“So how do Nate and his bad mood come into this?” Monica asked.

Emily glanced at the woman, noticing her amusement, praying that the story of her conduct hadn’t spread beyond the tavern. She didn’t want to discuss her business with a stranger but found the words tumbling tiredly from her lips. “I stopped for a meal at Tony’s Tavern when I got in late last night. Then my car wouldn’t start. Tony vouched for Nate, who offered me a lift. I tried to go to a motel—”

“With Nate?” Monica interrupted, then clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“No!” Emily said too fervently, praying she hadn’t started a new rumor. “Just me. But he insisted on taking me to the Widows’ Boardinghouse, where there’s an extra room.”

Monica grinned. “You know that’s practically a senior living home.”

“I do,” Emily said. “But they were very kind to me, and since they knew my grandmother, they’re insisting I remain there while I’m in Valentine. But once the upstairs apartment is ready, I’ll be moving in here.”

“Your family is from here?”

Emily briefly explained about her grandparents owning the building and her mother leaving right out of high school. “Once my grandmother died, we never came back. I don’t remember much at all about the town.” She refixed her ponytail in anticipation of returning to work. “So anyway, that’s my only connection to Nate. Now I should get back inside—” She started to rise.

Monica whistled. “He’s some kind of man.”

Sitting back down, Emily willed herself not to blush and tried to find a noncommittal response. “Is he?” She sounded a little too sarcastic.

Monica’s focus on her sharpened, but she only said, “Every girl in town has been after him at one time or another. There aren’t many who catch him, and when they do, it’s brief and fun and over.”

“Including you?” Emily pressed, unable to help herself.

“No way. Sadly, I got brother vibes from him the moment I was old enough to notice my own brother’s friends.”

Emily couldn’t help smiling, even as she told herself to leave. But the sun’s warmth seemed at last to be settling in her bones, and being with Monica was strangely relaxing. In San Francisco, she’d been so wrapped up in Greg that she’d never made time for girlfriends. Her college friends had been too busy being single and pursuing school, making it hard for them to understand the choice she’d made to marry. Greg didn’t have time to go out “with the girls,” and her excuses soon no longer were necessary. At the time, she thought she’d been making the right decision to let her friends go, so that they wouldn’t feel guilty when they attempted to reach out. But she’d made a terrible mistake. A woman didn’t need just a husband, she needed friends, people to rely on or to comfort in turn. And she’d foolishly taken those friendships for granted. It made her almost wistful for what she’d missed. Not that she’d be here long enough to make friends.

On the sidewalks, the tourists had multiplied in the last few hours, and she now paid attention to the couples since Monica had pointed it out. Valentine Valley had its own specialty theme just from the name.

Emily almost groaned as she turned her feet in little circles, stretching her aching ankles. “All those people in love must flock to your store to buy flowers.”

“They do,” Monica said with an exaggerated sigh, then grinned. “And I love it. Hey—have you had lunch yet?”

“No, I haven’t. Perhaps you can recommend a casual place.” A cheap place. There must be a grocery store someplace close to buy sandwich fixings.

“We’ll do lunch one of these days, I promise, but I can’t go out today. I’m manning the store alone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She couldn’t start doing lunch, but at least that was an excuse to get back to work. “Here I’ve kept you away.”

“Trust me, I’ve had my eye on the store the whole time. No customers at the moment. They’re probably all eating lunch. Care to join me?”

Emily opened her mouth, not wanting to be rude, but not knowing how to escape the kind offer. “Oh, but you only made enough for yourself. That would be a terrible imposition.”

“Nah, I made a big salad, and I always keep cheese sticks and almonds in the store for emergency snacks.”

“Oh, but here comes a customer,” Emily said with relief. It would be too easy to get caught up with someone as friendly as Monica.

Monica turned her head and saw the hassled-looking young man enter her store. “I’ll take care of him, then bring out lunch. The day is too beautiful to waste.”

Emily was about to object, then had a change of heart. What was the point of being rude? She had to eat, didn’t she? She forced each muscle to relax one at a time after the stress of the last few days. When Monica returned, they spread out the feast between them and began to eat.

“So why are you working alone today?” Emily asked, after pouring ranch dressing across the top of her salad. “Surely you’re busy this time of year.”

“Spring and fall aren’t usually the busy seasons up in the mountains. We get a lot of tourists during the winter and summer. They tend to avoid our muddy seasons between. Besides a teenager working after school, I usually get by with Mrs. Wilcox, my part-time help, but she’s getting old, and the poor thing has been having to call in sick more days lately.”

“That’s too bad.”

“We rely a lot on retirees for seasonal help here. And believe me, lots of people retire to Valentine Valley. It’s away from the big city of Denver, yet not in overly priced Aspen. You’d be surprised at the backgrounds of many of the locals. Not all are residents for generations like the Thalbergs, even though we are nestled in the middle of several ranches.”

Emily had heard enough about Nate and decided to keep the conversation on Monica. “So you were born here, too? What was it like growing up in such a small town?”

“Claustrophobic.”

Emily reluctantly shared her laugh.

“But you never feel alone,” Monica continued.

Emily had occasionally felt alone in San Francisco with Greg’s long hours, which was why she filled her days as much as possible, deluding herself that when she had a baby, Greg would spend more time with her, with their little family. The old pain hadn’t dulled, she realized, setting down her fork because of the lump in her throat.

Monica thoughtfully bit into a cheese stick and chewed. “Pretty quickly, you do feel like you’ve met every man. We often used to drive into Aspen to meet all the rich guys. But you know, most of them only wanted one thing from local girls. And let me tell you, there weren’t a lot of brothers on the ski slopes.”

Emily smiled. Both of them glanced toward the street as a commercial van pulled up next to them, the power company advertised on the side. A balding, middle-aged man in jeans, work shirt, and boots came around to them and smiled.

“Hey, Monica,” he said, nodding to her.

“Charlie,” she answered back. “Tell your wife those napkin holders decorated with hearts are hot sellers.”

“Great!” He looked at Emily. “Are you Emily Murphy?”

Surprised, she straightened up from her lazy slouch. “I am.”

“I’m Charlie Bombardo. I hear you were scheduled to have your electric and gas turned on in a couple days. Nate Thalberg knew I was working in the area, so he gave me a call.” He smiled. “He has a way of getting a person moved up the list.”

Damn, had she been so pitiful that he’d done her another favor? How was she supposed to rely on her own strengths when people kept assuming she couldn’t?

Monica laughed and shook her head. “That Nate. So what did he promise you?” she asked Mr. Bombardo.

“Lunch and a beer. I’ll be collecting during the Colorado Rockies game next weekend.”

“I—I don’t know what to say, Mr. Bombardo.” Emily heard herself stuttering, knew she hardly sounded professional. “Surely, I should be the one to owe you for this favor.”

“It’s Charlie. And no, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help. And it’s hardly a favor—you’ll be paying the company for the service.” He grinned. “It’ll just take me a few minutes to make sure your hot-water heater and furnace turn on.”

“Perhaps I should be your guide,” Emily said ruefully. “The last tenants left a mess.”

“I’ll find what I need.”

After he went inside, Emily saw Monica regarding her thoughtfully.

“Well, well,” the other woman said.

Emily held up a hand. “Don’t even think it.”

“Think what?” Monica countered, cocoa brown eyes wide with innocence.

“Anything to do with Nate.”

“He’s doing you a lot of favors.”

Emily pressed her lips together. She might as well be a heroine tied to the railroad tracks the way she inspired Nate to rescue her.

“So you noticed, too,” Monica said. “Whatever he wants for it will be more than worth it if my girlfriends are telling the truth.”

Wanting to clap her hands over her ears, Emily concentrated on her salad.

After a long day of hauling junk to the Dumpster—and no end in sight—Emily washed her face in the blessedly warm water in the restaurant ladies’ room. Miraculously, the plumbing still worked.

She felt bone weary and full of new aches, wondering if her thirties would now feel different than her twenties. She’d heard that the altitude could make her tired and out of breath. Since Greg had left her, she hadn’t made time for exercise like she used to. That would have to change.

Tomorrow. Tonight, the only exercise she’d get would be the walk to the mechanic to hear about her car. She changed into a clean shirt and repacked her backpack before locking the door. Early evening in Valentine Valley echoed with chirping birds and the occasional quiet laughter from open windows.

She walked tiredly down Main Street but still managed to notice the rest of the shops. The scent wafting from Carmina’s Cucina on the other side of Monica’s smelled divine, but she could also have eaten Mexican, or at a diner or a tearoom. And there were so many more ways for tourists to amuse themselves: a gift emporium, art galleries, and a portrait studio to have old-time photos taken. A huge sign advertised an outdoor tour company, and she imagined they did a brisk business in these mountains.

Hal’s Hardware was a welcome sight, and she knew she’d be frequenting it. Perhaps they gave lessons, or had books she could study. At the boardinghouse that morning, she’d seen an old computer with a big square monitor in a corner of the dining room. Were the widows even connected to the Internet? she wondered. They might still have dial-up.

The mechanic at the service station had had a chance to look at her engine and told her that the car would need about five hundred dollars’ worth of work. Emily winced at the thought. Since she didn’t need the car right away, the mechanic agreed to store it for a couple weeks, without charge, until she was ready. As she walked away, she felt embarrassed and frustrated—and grateful for his kindness. She wasn’t used to having so little money and reminded herself that perhaps she’d been spoiled during her marriage—maybe even by her mother. Though Emily had waitressed as a teenager, it had been for spending money, not the essentials.

The grocery store was on Main Street, too, and after stopping there for supplies, Emily walked back to the boardinghouse. The mountains were an impressive blackness rising up against the starlit sky. Then she heard several howls in the distance and picked up her speed, looking at the lights of the Victorian house as a beacon in the night. Only upon reaching the porch did she feel herself relax.

The widows were waiting in the kitchen, all flustered that she hadn’t called them, that she’d been out so late. She refrained from pointing out that she didn’t have their number, but they were ahead of her, giving her the number of the boardinghouse, and insisting they have her cell number in return. She felt uncomfortably tied to them.

“I have my own cell phone,” Mrs. Thalberg said with pride. “My grandkids insist on checking up on me.”

“And she hates that,” Mrs. Palmer said with a roll of her eyes. “I have a cell phone, too, you know, but you don’t see me braggin’.”

“My family knows where to reach me,” Mrs. Ludlow said calmly. “I just don’t see the need.” She nodded toward her walker and spoke without bitterness. “It’s not as if I drive anymore.”

“She has other skills that more than make up for it,” Mrs. Thalberg said, washing her hands at the sink. “Wait until you taste this pot roast she made.”

“Oh, no,” Emily insisted, setting down her bags. “I refuse to allow you to feed me when you’ve been so good to let me stay here.” Although the kitchen did smell incredible.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Thalberg said. “We all take turns cooking. Today, I was at the ranch, and I knew I’d have a wonderful meal waiting.”

Emily studied Mrs. Thalberg’s corduroys and padded jacket. “Do you go to the ranch often?”

“Though I used to live there, I find I don’t miss it so much, what with my husband gone to his reward. I went to help my daughter-in-law Sandy weed the garden.”

Emily hoped her surprise didn’t show, but Mrs. Thalberg laughed.

“I’m still good for an occasional workday, Emily Murphy. Don’t forget to ask if you need help.”

She didn’t want the widows to see her chaotic building, so all she did was raise both hands to placate them. “I promise I will. Now if you’re going to be so kind as to feed me, I want a place on that cooking schedule.”

She spent a surprisingly enjoyable hour with the widows, received her first baking-at-altitude lesson, then was graciously permitted to use the computer. Though the desktop looked old, with a big, boxy monitor, the Internet connection was pretty good, and she was able to do some research on the work she’d need to do. YouTube had an amazing amount of how-to videos. Hal’s Hardware even had its own website with a complete database of their products online. That seemed rather strange for a small town, but she shrugged her curiosity away.

When she almost fell asleep at the desk, she knew it was time to turn in. Since she’d showered before dinner, she barely remembered hitting the pillow. At dawn, her cell-phone alarm jarred her awake, and just shutting it off made her wince. Sitting up in bed, she circled her shoulders, feeling the aches and knowing it would be a long day. But that was no excuse for not running, she firmly reminded herself.

After dressing in shorts, Nikes, and a zipped sweatshirt over her t-shirt, she went outside just as the sun was rising. Once again, she came up short, staring in wonder at the imposing mountains that seemed so unreal. Would she ever get used to the sight?

Warm-up stretches made her muscles feel a bit better, but her first hundred yards at a light jog almost made her change her mind. Doggedly, she pushed herself a little faster, and this time, when she reached the road that led over the bridge, she went the opposite way, following the fence along the field. Mrs. Thalberg had told her last night that the field was hay to feed the cattle through the long winter, and they’d be harvesting it next month. Then the old woman had said Emily’d better see Nate while she could because come haying season, he’d be working dawn to dusk to get the hay in before the weather could ruin it.

She hadn’t told the widows that Nate had dropped by her building yesterday. She could only imagine what they’d make of that.

With the mountains towering on one side of her, and the rolling green hayfields on the other, she tried to clear her mind and concentrate on nothing at all. In the distance, across the fields, she could see several buildings that must be part of the Silver Creek Ranch. She made out horses and riders, but couldn’t see what they were doing. Yet after a while, even the scenery couldn’t distract her from feeling light-headed, and queasiness followed soon after.

She wasn’t that out of shape, she told herself. But she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Stopping to lean a hand against the fence, she found herself panting, head bent, wondering if she was really going to be sick.

And then she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves thudding on the dirt road. Still breathing too fast, she glanced up and knew in a moment that it was Nate riding down the road toward her, a cowboy fantasy come to life, his body moving in perfect rhythm with the horse, that dog running behind.

Oh God. He’d seen her drunk and loose, vulnerable and poor, angry and defensive. Was he now about to see her lose the banana she’d had for breakfast?