Chapter Twenty-Two
She saw her parents settled in to the Sweetheart Inn, introducing them to Mrs. Sweet, the owner, who promised Whitney she’d take good care of them. After giving directions to the chauffeur, Whitney left early for the ranch, saying she’d promised to help. Sort of a lie, but she just couldn’t hang out with her family any longer, their expectations a weight around her neck.
As she drove onto the ranch, she saw Brooke finishing up Steph Sweet’s barrel-racing lesson in the corral beside the indoor arena. Whitney pulled over and watched Steph race the clover-leaf pattern, the smooth way her horse leaned into the turns, accelerated in between each barrel, then whinnied in triumph when she pulled up at the end. Whitney found herself shaking her head in wonder at the way Steph moved with the animal. Oh, Whitney could ride well, but that kind of synchronicity took thousands of repetitions, and Steph and her horse had put in the work.
When Steph had gone, Brooke rode along the corral fence until she reached Whitney, then dismounted and let her horse Sugar start nibbling grass.
“Pretty impressive,” Whitney said, a foot on the lower rail, leaning her arms on the upper.
“Thanks. Steph is really good.” Brooke hesitated and eyed her. “How are things with you? I hear your family’s in town and coming for dinner.”
Whitney shrugged. “I can hardly say ‘you know how family is,’ because you won’t understand my sentiments at all. Your family is generous and forgiving, open-minded and loyal. Mine can be… trying.”
“Our relationships come from years of working and living together,” Brooke said, leaning her back against the fence, elbows resting on it, as they both watched Sugar. “And from what I’ve heard, you didn’t have much of that. Boarding school, huh?”
Whitney shrugged. “It’s how my parents grew up, so it’s all they know.”
“Sounds like you’ve been understanding.”
“I try. I wish they would. Sometimes I think they believe the Leather and Lace stores are my little Legos, and someday I’ll get tired of playing with them.”
Brooke chuckled, tipping her hat back on her head so she could glance sideways at Whitney. “And Josh? Where does he fit in?”
Whitney rested her chin on her fist and watched Sugar toss her head. “I don’t really know. He was great about meeting my strange family, and he impressed them.”
“For a cowboy,” Brooke said dryly.
Whitney smiled. “So you’ve met my family.”
“Not yet, but I can’t wait. So… do you need your family to be impressed by Josh?”
Whitney frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Is it important they like him for any… particular reason?”
“I’m dating him,” Whitney hedged. “It would make things easier if everybody liked each other.”
“But your store will open in a couple weeks. How does dating go then?”
“Are you actually pressuring me on behalf of your brother?” Whitney asked with amused disbelief.
“No, on behalf of myself. Guess I’m worried about him. Never quite seen him like this over a woman.”
“More pressure. Nice.”
“Now don’t get all prickly. I’m observing, not pressuring.”
Whitney was quiet for some time, listening to the cries of birds flying overhead and the faint chewing sounds of Sugar enjoying her grass. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Brooke. My family… wants something in particular from me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. Josh wants something from me, too, I think, and I’m being torn in several directions.”
“But what do you want?” Brooke asked, turning to look at her directly, soberly.
Whitney felt tears fill her eyes, to her mortification. “I don’t know.”
“Geez, Whitney, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Brooke said, trying to give her a hug over the top of the fence.
Whitney found herself laughing as she awkwardly patted Brooke’s shoulders and released her. “That’s okay. I’m making myself cry lately. I just keep telling myself to be patient, that it’ll all work out.”
“Sounds like good advice.”
“If only I had time,” Whitney added.
Brooke shot her a curious glance, but Whitney decided to change the subject. “Are you and Adam okay?”
“What made you ask that?” Brooke asked, sounding so baffled that Whitney found her worry dissipating.
“Only that I overheard you the morning after the fire, having a disagreement.”
Brooke grinned. “No need to worry. I guess it’s hard for a man, especially a soldier, to watch ‘his woman’ ”—she used air quotes—“in danger, but he knows how important the ranch and my work are to me. We’ve talked it out.”
“I’m glad. And I hope I didn’t step on your toes by bringing it up.”
“I think we’re beyond that. In fact, when he finally gets around to popping the question, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
Whitney blushed with a sense of warmth and family she’d only begun to know in Valentine Valley. “You’re a woman in a man’s world; you don’t think you could ask him to marry you?”
“He knows I want to marry him, and I’m going to be a girl about it.”
“I don’t blame you.” Whitney turned back to her car, raised a hand, and said, “See you at the house.”
“Race ya!”
Brooke flung herself into the saddle, and Whitney into her car, fumbling with her keys even as Brooke and Sugar took off at a gallop. They beat her the couple hundred yards to the house.
Whitney flung open the car door, and yelled, “Not fair! The road twisted and turned, and you could ride straight.”
“Whiner!” Brooke called, dismounting and leading Sugar toward the barn. “You just don’t know how to drive on gravel. Go on, get in the house and tell Mom I’ll be in as soon as I rub down Sugar.”
Whitney glanced into the barn’s interior, where there was a light on in Josh’s workshop, but she didn’t go in. She didn’t quite trust herself to be alone with him. She was afraid she’d abuse his comfort and the distraction of his embrace. That’s all she would need, to forget about her parents’ arrival.
Inside, she found Sandy Thalberg in the kitchen, wrapping baked potatoes in foil. She put an arm around Whitney’s shoulders and squeezed. “Whitney, I’m so excited to meet your family!”
Whitney smiled and began to tear off squares of foil. “Thanks for the invitation. I really wanted them to meet all of you, so they know just why I’ve fallen in love—with Valentine Valley.” She’d made a horrible pause in the wrong place, but she didn’t meet Sandy’s eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, Brooke came in, freshly showered, her long hair pulled back in a wet ponytail. They both started chopping vegetables for a salad. As the men took turns showering, they trooped in and out, gathering extra chairs, lengthening the dining-room table, setting up another table, and firing up the grill for steaks. The widows arrived next, bearing asparagus to roast and a bowl of coleslaw.
Emily trooped in last, huffing and puffing as she put a cheesecake in the fridge. “Had to wait for Steph to get to work. Thanks for keeping her so late, Brooke,” she said with faint sarcasm.
“No problem,” Brooke answered mildly.
Josh slowed to a stop behind Whitney and put both hands on her shoulders for a brief squeeze. She found herself leaning back against him, and he murmured into her ear, “Heard your family moved into town.”
“Word spreads,” she said quietly. “Have the employees at the inn already revolted?”
He chuckled. “Not so’s I’ve heard. How’d the tour of Leather and Lace go?”
She shrugged, then found herself briefly pressing her cheek against the back of his hand, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world, even with his family all around them. “They were polite and even sort of interested.”
“It’s a beautiful old building, and you’re using its character perfectly.”
She glanced up and back at him. “Why thank you, Mr. Thalberg.”
He squeezed her shoulders again and released her, and she watched the easy way he moved in the intricate dance of a crowded kitchen, as people opened the refrigerator or drawers or cabinets. Adam and Nate went by, carrying a cooler full of beer because the fridge was too crowded with food. The kitchen hummed with activity, and Whitney found herself watching more than participating in the teasing and the stories of the day.
Adam called to Josh, “So, have any other women committed crimes to win your favor?”
A general groan went up, and Whitney couldn’t help laughing. Even though he’d been embarrassed and upset, he’d shared the news with his family, just like he shared everything.
Josh put up both hands. “Now that’s just not fair.”
“Give some women pretty lingerie,” Nate called, “and they turn into cavewomen.”
“Hey!” Whitney said, grinning, hands on her hips. She was about to protest that the rock-thrower had nothing to do with her store when she heard someone clear his throat, then saw Josh wince before shooting the others a warning look.
Already knowing what she’d find, Whitney slowly turned around and saw her parents and brother standing beside Doug Thalberg in the kitchen doorway. He must have intercepted them before they’d even rung the doorbell. The Thalbergs were dressed in jeans and t-shirts or polo shirts, while her brother and dad wore sport coats and open-necked dress shirts. She wanted to say, “It’s a ranch!” but held back her comment. At least her mom’s skirt and blouse were a bit more casual though elegantly out of place. Maybe that was Whitney’s fault, for not having made the informality of the place clear.
“So this is Whitney’s family,” the elder Mrs. Thalberg said, bustling right to them with an outstretched hand.
Whitney thought with amusement that Mrs. Thalberg had pressed her jeans for the occasion, and her bright red hair could match the setting sun. She shook Vanessa’s hand so hard, her mom lurched to avoid falling forward.
“I’m Rosemary Thalberg, Josh’s grandma.”
“Vanessa Winslow,” her mom said, looking a bit dazed as she glanced around. “My husband Charles, and my son Chasz.”
“What’s this about a crime mixed up with Leather and Lace?” Chasz asked.
Whitney thought he was working hard to keep his glee to himself. And not succeeding, as far as she was concerned, she thought sourly.
“Shouldn’t I introduce everyone first?” Whitney asked.
“Nice attempt at a distraction,” Brooke whispered behind her.
Whitney shot her a narrow-eyed look. She made the introductions all around, getting Brooke back by pointedly introducing Adam as her “friend,” when she knew Brooke wanted a ring, and bad.
“The crime?” Charles reminded her, when he had a glass of red wine in his hand, and they were more spread out in the living room among the overstuffed leather furniture.
“Oh, that,” Whitney said. “It was nothing, really.”
“All my fault,” Josh said after swallowing his cracker loaded with artichoke and spinach dip. “Ever since that photo for Savi, there are some people who’re getting a little fixated. This young woman came to town, trespassed on the ranch to get photos of me, then threw a rock through the window of Leather and Lace. I tell you, we’re finally tempted to lock the gates of the ranch, which we’ve never done in a hundred years.”
“I’m not tempted,” Doug said, taking a sip of his beer as he rested an elbow on the mantel.
“But why target Whitney’s store?” Charles asked, frowning.
“Simple jealousy,” Mrs. Ludlow said, shaking her white-haired head. “The young are so susceptible to it.”
Vanessa looked confused. “The girl was angry you’re dating Josh?”
“That’s our fault,” Mrs. Thalberg said.
Everyone turned to stare at her. The widows exchanged several glances and nods, and Whitney found herself relieved that their guilt threshold had finally been reached.
“Grandma, what are you talking about?” Josh said, dripping cracker forgotten in his hand. “I’m the one whose ridiculous photo is splashed all over every gossip rag in the country.”
“Inspiring lust everywhere he goes,” Adam said in an undertone to Nate that everyone heard.
Josh frowned his exasperation at him.
“When we saw how popular you are,” said Mrs. Palmer, “we thought you wouldn’t mind if we… used you for a good cause.”
“I don’t get it,” Josh said.
“Mom, what did you do?” Doug asked.
“We have a page on the computer,” Mrs. Ludlow said. “Oh, dear, what is that site again?”
“Facebook,” said the younger people in the room.
“You ladies are part of that fan club?” Josh said, eyebrows raised.
“We… started it.” His grandmother implored him with a smile.
Whitney was too busy watching the drama unfold to even pay attention to how her parents might be taking all this.
With sudden laughter, Josh choked on his cracker, and Whitney hit him hard in the back. He eyed her, and she strove for innocence. He rounded back on the widows, who looked unapologetic in the face of his humor.
Josh put on a serious expression that fooled no one. “Why would you do that, Grandma, making everything worse? Women are following me around.”
“And cheering at his ass every time he bends over,” Nate pointed out to nobody in particular.
Whitney winced, and this time she did glance at her family. Chasz had shed his sport coat, rolled up his sleeves, and was picking and choosing among the appetizers. Vanessa looked far too curious, and Charles hadn’t taken a sip of wine in a while. He wouldn’t dare to judge after what his own son had done—hell, after the scandals Whitney had knowingly created in her early twenties. It was a very freeing thought. She took another piece of shrimp and listened with interest as the widows explained themselves.
“We had a good purpose,” Mrs. Thalberg insisted. “All the money we raised benefited the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund.”
“Mom, how did you raise money?” Doug demanded.
Sandy glanced at him in surprise. “You didn’t know you could order an autographed photo of our son for seven dollars?”
Josh threw his arms wide. “Mom, you knew?”
“I knew about the page, not who was behind it.”
Doug stared at his own mother, who looked matter-of-fact and unashamed.
“Wait a minute,” Chasz said. “That’s illegal.”
Whitney glared at him; their mother whirled and frowned at him. He blinked, then shut his mouth.
“What’s so important about the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund?” Charles asked with actual interest.
Whitney watched her father as the widows expounded on the virtues of keeping Valentine the small, unique town it had always been and preserving their heritage.
“We don’t like chain stores, either,” Mrs. Palmer said with distaste. “Nothin’ original there.”
“So Leather and Lace isn’t a chain?” Vanessa asked.
“A young woman, the sole owner, branching out with her stores?” Mrs. Ludlow asked. “We think it sets a wonderful precedent. We even offered Whitney a grant to help renovate the building, but she was too kind to accept it.”
Mrs. Palmer grinned. “Your daughter is so creative. My favorite lingerie is—”
Adam put a hand over his grandmother’s mouth from behind. “None of that personal stuff, Grandma.”
“We did have something else in mind,” Mrs. Thalberg began.
Whitney knew what was coming, and turned her fixed attention on Josh. He shot her a curious look, then returned his gaze to his grandma.
“Now that you’re famous, we thought you should do one of those calendars, you know, with you working hard on the ranch. We could sell it to raise money. Think how many people we’ll help.”
“And how many fantasies he’ll inspire,” Nate said to Adam, who snorted.
“Well, you two would be part of it, too,” Mrs. Palmer pointed out. “And some of your nice young friends.”
Adam’s snort turned into a cough, and Brooke sweetly patted him on the back.
“Grandma,” Josh said, “we’re not discussing this now.”
“He didn’t say no,” Mrs. Thalberg said to her two best friends.
“But I am saying no to the autographed photo and Facebook. Take them both down, please.”
The widows exchanged looks and sighs, but all at last nodded.
“Let me go get the steaks on the grill,” Doug said, heading through the kitchen.
Whitney expected Josh to join his dad, but he bravely stayed by her side and listened to her mother start a new conversation by gushing about her educational accomplishments—as if she was proud of her. Whitney wished she could believe that was the only purpose.
Josh put an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve always liked a smart woman.”
Whitney bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Where did you go to school, Josh?” Charles asked.
“Just high school, sir. I went to work on the ranch right afterward.”
“Oh.”
Whitney understood that everyone her parents knew sent their kids to college—even if they ended up dropping out.
“My brother has a degree from Colorado State,” Josh continued, “and he enjoys handling the business aspect. Whitney tells me you took a suite at the Sweetheart Inn?”
Whitney was glad he changed the subject.
“You’ll want to walk the paths behind the hotel and find the hot springs,” he continued. “Nothing like sitting outdoors in nature, getting the worst of the stress out of you.”
“The hot springs are outdoors?” Vanessa asked in surprise. “They didn’t build something around them?”
“Nope. We kind of like nature around here.”
Her mom’s smile looked pained. Could this conversation get any more awkward?
After a pause, Charles said, “Josh, I took a look at the bag you made. Very impressive.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Have you ever thought about expanding your operation, hiring more employees to reach more markets?”
Josh smiled at her. “Whitney suggested that, and explained how it would work, but it just wouldn’t work for me. I get the most satisfaction out of doing the creative part myself. But I thank all of you Winslows for trying to help.”
When dinner was announced, Whitney found herself relieved to have something to do rather than talk. The two tables fit well enough, since the dining room was an extension of the living room, without walls separating it.
Whitney ended up sitting beside her mom, and as they ate salad, Vanessa said, “I really enjoyed the tour of your store today.”
Whitney blinked in surprise. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’ve given a lot of thought to the character of the neighborhood and the buildings wherever you’ve opened a store. It makes each seem very unique, rather than just another one of a chain, as the older ladies pointed out.”
“Uh… thanks again, Mom.”
“It makes me so happy to see your success, all by yourself.” Vanessa lowered her voice. “And it’s nice that you’ve proven your business sense to your dad.”
Whitney almost gaped at her. “You’ve never told me any of this before.”
“But… of course I did, maybe not in so many words. I congratulated you on each store.”
Had Whitney just read into that whatever she wanted? Or was Vanessa just now saying what she wanted Whitney to hear? It was pretty confusing.
But Whitney wanted the sentiment to be real, wanted to experience at least some of the closeness that the Thalbergs had. But she didn’t know how she could have that if she chose not to help her family.
Throughout the meal, Josh found himself watching Whitney from across the table. He was seated near her family, so he couldn’t miss the tension that only seemed to be increasing the more he saw of them. And her brother Chasz kept sending her these unreadable looks, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Josh didn’t know how much longer he could wait to hear an explanation.
When at last her family’s limousine pulled up as the sun was setting, he stood on the porch at Whitney’s side to say good-bye. He didn’t ask how long they’d be staying, and they didn’t volunteer it. But once they’d gone, he drew Whitney over to the porch swing and made her sit down.
“Josh, there are so many dishes in there. I have to—”
“There are plenty of people for that. We can help in a minute. Shouldn’t they be allowed to finish gossiping about your family?” he teased.
Her smile was halfhearted. He pulled her against his side and started the swing slowly gliding front to back.
“So I’m not very funny tonight,” he said, kissing her temple. “And I’m real sorry if we came off as a bunch of rednecks, with my grandma practically pimping me on Facebook.”
That got a laugh out of her.
“And you knew about it, didn’t you?”
She met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I knew a couple days ago. Remember all that detective work I was doing on your behalf? I found out the photo was from the Back In Time Portrait Studio, but they wouldn’t give me a name. At least I knew whoever was behind it was from Valentine. It took an accident to discover the rest. I helped Mrs. Ludlow pick up her dropped mail and saw the fan-club envelopes.”
“And you didn’t tell me because… ?”
“Because your own grandmother was involved, and she asked me not to. It was killing me, Josh, I swear.”
He cupped her face and kissed her. “I’ve no doubt it was. But I don’t mind. Those widows are a force of nature.”
She relaxed and snuggled back against his side, and for a moment, they listened to the sound of the wind stirring the grass and the faint laughter from inside.
“So…” Whitney began tentatively, “I should be apologizing to you for my own family. They may not be redneck, but they’re snobs.”
“It’s all right. They’re not used to how we live, and we’re not used to them either. And you’re stuck right in the middle. Do you mind bridging two worlds?”
“That’s what they’re calling it nowadays?” she said wryly. “And no, I don’t mind. It makes life interesting.”
And it was the perfect opening. “Whitney, there’s something—”
She jumped up fast, and said brightly, “We’ll have to talk later. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t clean up. Thanks for being so nice to my family.”
And then she was gone without waiting for him, and he followed at a slower pace. He wasn’t exactly going to propose, but he was going to have a more serious conversation than she obviously wanted. He sighed. Women were complicated wherever they came from. But that wouldn’t stop him.