Among Wildflowers (4 page)

“It is kind of a pretty place.
In a secluded cowboy ranch kind of a way,” Macy said as she and Lane made their way back up the path to the house, her arm looped through his.

“Yeah, I guess,” Lane said, dusting off his jeans.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a stop. “We’re here. Let’s just make the best of it, okay?”

“Alright, alright,” Lane said dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “I’ll try my best. This place just isn’t my cup of tea. I mean, there’s not a Starbucks for miles.”

She laughed and bumped shoulders with him. “I know. We’ll just have to find some way to get through.”

They approached the porch to find a big shaggy dog lounging by the front door. It lifted its head and its tail began thudding against the floor. Macy was taken aback by the detail and care that had obviously been put into building the house. She noted that two rocking chairs sat on the porch, but there was a haphazard pile of
old, dried flowers on one of the seats, and it was rather dusty compared to the other.
Odd,
she thought as the front door swung open.

“You must be Lacy and Lane.” A striking woman with fine, delicate features answered the door, drying her hands on her apron. She appeared to be in her sixties, and her face was soft and kind-looking. Her hair was the most exquisite shade of gray and lay elegantly around her shoulders.

“Macy,” Macy corrected with a polite smile, holding out her hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said, taking her hand and shaking it gently. “It’s a pleasure meeting you both. My name’s Helen. Please, come in.”

“Thank you,” Macy and Lane said in unison.

“It’s not too often we get visitors. I’m so happy to have someone else to cook for besides Ryland and Michael,” Helen said, leading them through the house.

The house was very rustic, and yet still looked refined and sophisticated. It wasn’t what Macy had expected. Although, exactly what she had expected, she didn’t know. This home was beautifully decorated, simple, and elegant. Subtle tones of masculinity were everywhere, which was what surprised Macy the most. Watching Ryland’s music videos made her think he was a rich, gaudy country boy, but the interior of his home didn’t appear to reflect that.

“Well, we really appreciate you having us,” Macy said.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. Come have a seat,” Helen said, gesturing to a big oak table in the center of the dining room.

“Thanks.”

Macy sat down beside Lane at the table.

“Wine?” Helen asked, placing two glasses on the table.

“Yes please,” Lane said and then his eyes darted to Macy’s and he mouthed ‘
Sorry’
to her.

Shrugging and offering him a smile she said, “Not for me, thanks.”

“So,” Lane said after taking a long sip. “Where is Ryland,
Helen?”

Helen stopped, her shoulders visibly stiffening. “He’s out on business.”

“So we’ve been told,” Lane said under his breath.

Macy kicked him hard under the table and flashed him a warning look. Lane lifted his brows and again mouthed
‘Sorry.’

“I hope you like pot pie,” Helen said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

“Absolutely,” Macy called after her.

A moment later, Michael strode into the dining room.

“Smells great, Helen,” he said, taking a seat at the table.

“I hope so,” she said, coming back into the room carrying a tray of bowls filled with steaming, homemade pot pie.

“This is delicious,” Macy said honestly after taking her first bite.

“It really is,” Lane said. “You can’t get home cooking like this back in New York.”

Helen waved her hand in the air in dismissal. “I know it’s not fancy like you’re used to getting back home, I’m sure, but hopefully it’ll do while you’re here.”

“This ranch is truly incredible,” Lane said, shoveling in a big bite of food.

“Thank you,” Helen said with a warm smile. “We all work very hard on it and we’re very proud of it.”

“It must take a lot of work to keep a ranch this size going every day,” Lane said.

Macy turned her attention to Lane, knowing exactly where this was going.

“It does,” Michael said gruffly.

“So,” Lane said, clearing his throat and wiping the corners of his mouth on his napkin, “is that why Ryland hasn’t felt compelled to put out any new singles lately?”

Suddenly, the tension in the room was palpable, and Macy found herself glancing uncomfortably at the others. Michael grunted and stabbed his fork into a piece of chicken before shoving it into his mouth and chewing.

“Well,” Helen said quietly, looking down at her plate, “he’s a busy man. The past couple of years have been challenging for us all. When he’s ready to write another song, he will.”

“What do you mean, the past couple years have been challenging?” Lane asked eagerly.

Macy caught Michael shooting Helen a look, his jaw locked.

“I guess what I meant to say was simply that living on a ranch ain’t easy. We’re doing the best we can. Yes, Ryland’s music career has undoubtedly been successful, but that’s not his whole life. He’ll write another one when he’s ready,” she repeated, obviously finished with the topic.

“But even so, don’t you think that a man who has made millions upon millions of dollars from his music would be a little more interested in keeping his career going? I mean, the man was on the tops of the charts, on a world tour that he inexplicably canceled and basically became a recluse. You’re telling me that the only reason for that kind of behavior was that he was bus—“

“Enough!” Michael bellowed, jumping to his feet and slamming his fist down on the table.

Macy, Lane, and Helen all jumped. Helen stood and quickly began clearing the table. Macy crossed her arms over her chest and shot Lane a sharp look before kicking him soundly beneath the table.

“We should really get to bed,” Macy said softly.

“Oh, yes,” Helen said with a nervous laugh. “Traveling will take it out of you. Do you have enough blankets? Pillows?”

“Yep, we’re great. Thanks again for your hospitality.”

As Macy and Lane made their way back down the dirt path to their cabin, Macy reflected on the dinner. Something serious had definitely happened to make Ryland Quinn fall out of the limelight, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was really curious.

“That was so weird,” Lane said in a hushed voice as soon as they shut their door.

“Really weird.” Macy peeled off her hoodie and sat down on the bed, pulling her legs beneath her.

“There’s a story here. A good story.” Lane’s eyes shone with excitement as he dug out his notepad and began jotting down notes.

“It does appear that Helen and Michael are hiding something. But what?”

“Maybe he’s gay?” Lane said with the hint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips

Macy cocked an eyebrow and threw a pillow at him. “Maybe in your dreams.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “Maybe not that. But I’ve got to figure out what it is. It’s got to be something huge for him to turn his back on his career. And can you believe the way Michael snapped at me? They’re covering something up for him.”

“Brandon said that it’s been suggested that he has an alcohol problem. Or maybe he’s had a total mental collapse.”

Lane looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I really need to sit down and talk with him to get a feel. Having him gone isn’t helping me put my story together.”

“But he’s going to be back the day after tomorrow. Maybe you can start digging in the meantime.”

“Yep,” Lane said, standing. “Let’s hit it.”

After changing into pajamas and brushing her teeth, Macy crawled into bed. Reaching beneath the bunk bed, she pulled out a black leather photo album. Opening the book, she ran her fingers down the off-white, stained pages. Wildflowers were pressed into the pages and preserved perfectly. Macy had no idea how Aunt Suzy did it. But Suzy’s artistic abilities had always amazed Macy. She always had the album with her no matter where she went. It reminded her that someone cared about her, even when it felt like no one did, and now that Aunt Suzy was gone… it sometimes felt like there really was no one.

Macy stared at her phone after Logan hung up, her chest tight and heavy. Her stomach felt sick and all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and be left alone. Instead, she began scrolling through her contacts until she found Lane’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“I’m freaking out,” Macy whispered, glancing over her shoulder at actors who were waiting for her.

“What’s wrong, girl?”

“I don’t know. I’m… I don’t know.” She sniffled, fighting back the tears. “Logan’s mad at me. I can’t handle life today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Lane was quiet for a moment. “Everything is okay. Remember what we talked about? Stay calm… go to your happy place… we’re going to get through it, okay?”

“I’m trying—”

“Have you had anything to drink today?”

Macy squeezed her eyes shut, wrapping her free arm around her middle. “No,” she lied.

“Good. That’s really good. I think we’re really getting someplace, Mace. You’re getting better every day. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she said, guilt settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Excuse me.” The Heather tapped her on her shoulder. “Are we going to do this, or what?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I just had an important business call come in. I’ll be over with you guys in just a moment.”

Heather rolled her eyes and went back to wait with the others. “God, she is such a bitch.”

Macy took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. “If I’m not careful I’m going to snap that little brat’s neck,” she whispered.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot you were on that shoot today. How’s it going?”

“Awful. I can’t focus on it. They’re nothing but a bunch of spoiled Hollywood assholes and I cannot deal with this today, Lane. I’m going to lose it.”

“Breathe, just breathe, okay? Want me to swing by and help reign in the princesses? I’m free.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

“No, don’t come. I’m sorry, Lane. I’m just a mess today, but I’m okay, really.”

“Are you sure, girl?”

Macy sighed. “Yes, I’m sure. Thanks for talking with me. I feel better.”

She hung up the phone and reached for her purse. Making sure her back was turned to the others, she unzipped it and pulled out two tiny bottles of vodka. After downing them both quickly, she rinsed her mouth out with some water and then popped a breath mint.

“Okay, guys,” she said cheerfully, heading back to the shoot. “Boss, problems, ya know what I mean?”

Rachel and the lead from the movie, Brody, chuckled, but Heather just threw her hair over her shoulder and pouted.

Macy squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. She could get through this. Just get through it.

Just get through it.

“Mace... Macy...
Macy!
”
Lane’s voice jarred Macy out of her sleep and she sat up, bashing her head into the bunk above her.

“What the hell, Lane?” she said, rubbing her forehead. “What’s
wrong?”

“You were dreaming—a nightmare. You were crying in your sleep.” His was peering at her, leaning down from his bunk. “You
okay?”

Touching her face, she realized she had been crying. She shook herself and slid out of bed. “I’m fine. I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about.”
But I have a good guess.

“Well, what are our plans for today?”

Macy shrugged, stretching. “I don’t know. Check out the property, I guess.” She padded over to the window and peered outside. “This is bizarre isn’t it?”

Lane nodded, grimacing. “This is pretty strange.”

“I know what I did to piss off Brandon, but what did you do?” Macy asked, pulling her hair into a high ponytail.

Lane sighed, throwing off his covers. “I volunteered.”

“What?” Macy gasped, turning back to him. “You idiot! You have the hots for Ryland Quinn that much that you would volunteer to come out here to Hicksville to do a story about how much of an asshole and a hermit he is?”

“No...I mean, yeah. You can’t deny the man is a fine specimen,” he said with a wink. “But no. I wanted to be here with you on your first assignment back to work.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

He slid off the bunk and pulled her into a tight hug. “Besides, we’ve done a ton of jobs together. We’re like the A-Team.”

“Yeah,” Macy said with a laugh. “What’s really sad is this isn’t even the worst job we’ve had. We’ve had some crazy ones.”

“Damned straight. Remember that one flea-bag motel we got stuck staying at in Atlanta?”

“Oh, that was disgusting. At least this cabin is clean.”

“Okay, but why would millionaire Ryland Quinn put us up in this stupid little cabin anyway? I mean, his house is huge. Why wouldn’t he have an actual guest house?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard he’s eccentric. Like, I heard he really, truly works on his ranch. Like a real ranch cowboy. Why would a country music star need to do that?”

“I don’t know. I hope we get a good story from this. I mean, if we get a good scoop on what’s been going on and why he fell off the map, it’ll be huge.”

Macy nodded as she pulled out her clothes. “What do you think his deal is?”

“No idea. Maybe he just pulled a Britney Spears. Snapped, you know?”

“Hmmm, most likely.”

There was a knock at the door and it swung open, revealing Michael in the doorway.

“Mornin’.”

“Morning,” Lane and Macy said together.

“Thought you two might like some breakfast.”

“Sounds great. We’re just getting dressed.”

“Alright, meet you up at the house,” Michael said before quickly shutting the door again.

“Great. Another pleasant meal with that guy. Just what I was hoping for,” Lane said dryly.

“Yeah, well. It can’t be any worse than having to be in the same room as Kanye West for five minutes, right?”

Lane laughed. “You got me there.”

***

Helen greeted them warmly. “Well, come on in, you two. I got biscuits and gravy on the stove, and hot coffee.”

“Sounds delicious.”

Michael was already seated at the table with a cup of coffee in his hands. When he saw them, he stood and reached a hand out to Lane.

“Lane, I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I’ve... been under a lot of stress lately, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Lane and Macy exchanged looks briefly before Lane took Michael’s hand. “Thanks, I appreciate that. And we appreciate you guys putting us up.”

Michael cleared his throat and motioned for the two to sit down. “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Macy noticed Lane perk up at that and slide into full reporter mode. “Absolutely, Michael. Let’s talk.” He reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out a recorder. “Mind if we record this? Macy, get some pictures.”

Macy’s intuition told her that right now was not a good time to be pushing and that they should tread carefully around Helen and Michael, especially if they were the key to getting Ryland’s story. “Sorry, left it back at the cabin.”

Lane pursed his lips and shot her a look.

“Uh, actually,” Michael said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this off the record.”

Macy watched as Lane’s face subtly fell before he regained his composure. “Sure, no problem.”

Just then, Helen came in to set down their plates of hot biscuits and gravy. “Would everyone like coffee?”

“Please,” Macy said.

“No thanks,” Lane said dismissively as he waited impatiently for Michael to continue.

As soon as Helen had disappeared again, Michael took a deep breath.

“Listen. We’re not stupid. We know why you’re here. You want to get the scoop on a fallen country music star. The tabloids have been chasing us for a long time, trying to get the inside story about Ryland Quinn. To be perfectly honest, we weren’t excited to have you guys come out here. This ranch is our home, our haven, and we’ve never let press out here before. But we’d like to have the chance to clear his name some. Bring some positive attention as we work on getting his career back on the right path.”

Lane nodded. “Well, that’s why we’re here. We heard that Ryland is working on his new album.”

“He’s not working on it... yet. But he will. He’s ready.”

Lane’s eyes darted to Macy’s for a moment before returning to Michael. “Why is he ready now? What made him wait so long?”

Michael smiled, winking at Macy. “Like I said, this is off the record, and you’ll have to save the important questions for Ryland himself. Man to man, I just wanted to ask for some courtesy.”

Macy thought that what Michael was politely trying to say was that if he even remotely got the inkling that they were trying to run a tabloid trash story about Ryland he’d kick them off the property.

Lane smiled. “Absolutely. We’re just so grateful to have been given this opportunity. We don’t plan on smearing Ryland’s name. We’d just be honored to get the first crack at sharing the story of his comeback.”

Michael nodded approvingly and took a sip of his coffee. “Alright then, let’s dig in.”

***

“Mama, I know. I’ll call, I promise,” Ryland said softly as his mother pulled his face down to kiss his cheek.

“You had better. I can’t wait months between your phone calls. I need to know my boy’s okay.”

“I will,” he said, hugging his mother before turning to his father. “Thanks for having me out, Dad.”

John held out his hand to his son. “You don’t have to thank me for that. You know you’re always welcome home.” He cleared his throat before pulling Ryland in for a hug. “We miss you.”

Ryland hugged his father tightly, the guilt from having put his parents through hell weighing heavy. “I’ll come home more often, I promise.”

“Good,” his father said, pulling away and taking a step back. “We’d like to see you.”

“Yes, we would,” Martha said, her eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t stay away so long.”

“I won’t, Mama.”

“Listen,” Martha said, clutching both of his hands in hers. “I know things have been hard on you. We loved Isabelle and we always knew the two of you would get married one day and have us lots of grandbabies. But sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way we expected. But you’re such a strong man and you’re going to be alright.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Ryland said, his throat tight.

“Listen to me, Ryland,” his mother said more forcefully. “I mean it, you’re going to be alright, but only if you get your butt back out there and start experiencing life again, you hear?”

“Yes, I hear, Mama.”

“Your mother’s right, son,” John said, clapping his hand over Ryland’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

“Okay, okay, you two,” Ryland said lightly. “I got it. And I am.”

He hugged both his parents one last time before heading out the front door of his Georgia childhood home. Before he hopped in the waiting town car, Ryland took one more look back. He was glad he’d taken the time to come out and see his parents. They’d needed it. Hell, he’d needed it.

***

Ryland stretched his legs out as much as he could. Plane rides always proved to be terribly uncomfortable for his large frame. As usual, he was anxious to get home. But he felt far more relaxed after this impromptu trip to Georgia than he had in a long time. It had done him some good to get out of town. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. Two reporters would be waiting for him, salivating at the mouth like ravenous wolves eying a defenseless rabbit. But it would be for the greater good. He’d spent enough time feeling sorry for himself, and it was time to make a change. He would just have to swallow his pride for a few days and let these people into his life a little bit.

“Mr. Quinn.” A bubbly blonde flight attendant with remarkably bright teeth stooped over him, giving him a good view of her ample bosom.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes and tell her that she was trying too hard. Instead he smiled politely. “Yes?”

“May I get you anything else before we land?”

“A whiskey, please.”

“Right away, Mr. Quinn,” she said with a wink and a flirtatious smile.

Ryland shook his head, pulled the paperback out of his jacket
pocket, and continued where he’d left off, hoping the mystery he was reading would take his mind off what he was going to have to deal with when he got home. But soon, the woman reappeared and set his whiskey on his tray table with a napkin wrapped around the
glass.

“Enjoy,” she said in a sultry tone of voice. “Let me know if there’s…
anything
…else I can do for you, Mr. Quinn.”

“Thanks,” he said without looking up from his book. He picked the glass up and took a long sip before setting it down again. The napkin fell away and Ryland noticed that something had been written on it.

Call me next time you’re in LA. 323 555 6709. Tammy.

Ryland groaned, running his hand over his face before crumpling the napkin into a ball. He couldn’t wait to get this week over with.

***

“This is Jose, he’s one of Ryland’s ranch hands,” Michael said as a slight man with a tan complexion entered the room. He looked to be around thirty.

“Pleased to meet you,” Macy said, smiling.

“It’s good to meet you too, miss,” Jose said politely, shaking her hand.

“How long have you worked for Ryland, Jose?” Lane asked.

“For almost a year, although I’ve known the guy for a long time. We grew up together back in Georgia.”

“Oh, really?” Lane said, jotting down notes. “Very interesting.”

Macy turned her attention to Michael when she heard him grunt and offered him a reassuring smile.

“Glad you could join us for supper tonight, Jose,” Michael said.

“Couldn’t say no when I found out Helen was making her world famous cherry pie for dessert,” Jose said, patting his belly and
winking at Helen.

“Oh, hush, now,” she said, swatting at his shoulder as she passed behind him. “It’s just pie. Every old lady knows how to make pie.”

“It’s the best you’ll ever try,” Jose said to Macy, offering her a flirtatious smile. “I guarantee it.”

Macy laughed. “Well, I don’t doubt that. Every single thing we’ve eaten so far has been outstanding.”

“Hear that, Helen?” Jose yelled into the kitchen. “Everyone loves your food.” He turned back to Macy. “I told her she should open her own restaurant.”

“Jose, I thought I told you to hush. I’ve told you before, I don’t want a restaurant. I want to stay right here at this ranch and cook for you buffoons. You boys wouldn’t know how to feed yourselves even if you tried.”

Michael chuckled as he watched the bantering between Helen and Jose. Macy was intrigued by the dynamics between them. Having grown up in what would not be considered a typical family, she wondered if this was what it would have been like. When she was a kid she often daydreamed about having brothers and sisters to play with, aunts and uncles and cousins to visit… a mother and father who loved each other, but most of all, loved her.

“You okay, Mace?” Lane whispered, leaning towards her. “Kinda zoned out there.”

“Oh, sorry,” she whispered back, flashing him a quick smile. “Just tired.”

Lane smiled back and then said quietly, “I’m going to get so fat while I’m here. I think I’m in love with Helen.”

Macy giggled. “Maybe we should just stay here forever.”

Just then Helen walked into the room carrying a tray of Beef Wellington that smelled absolutely divine.

“Yep, we’re moving in,” Lane said.