The Bride Wore Denim (18 page)

Harper wanted to groan in frustration. There was nothing but Melanie’s own choice dictating that she not use the school district.

“So, it’s not the event itself you object to?”

“No. But it is expensive. It’s only five dollars to attend the show, but it’s fifty to enter it. The district is subsidizing part of the entry fees, but they wouldn’t for Skylar or the two other kids she’s got riled up about going.”

“So they
would
let the kids enter?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I expect so—more money for them.”

“Okay, Mel, I’m about to overstep my bounds, but if they would allow her to enter, and if you’d consider allowing her to enter, I’d like to pay Skylar’s entry fee.”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Look, here’s the thing. I would have gone crazy without my high school art teacher, Mrs. Hodges, encouraging me. And now I have a wonderful woman back in Chicago who’s commissioned quite a few pieces of my work and is mentoring my career because she believes in the value of art in the world. I’m not suggesting Skylar is going to make art her living, but I can pay the luck I’ve had forward. It’s one little opportunity for her. And who are these other two students?”

Melanie lost herself in thought for several long moments. Her face gave nothing of her feelings away. When she looked back at Harper, it was with stern resolution.

“I don’t know how I feel about supporting the schools. We do art projects in the co-op, and Skylar is always involved in those. I’m not sure why that isn’t enough.” Harper started to protest, but Melanie held up her hand. “I know it isn’t, and I can’t preach to my kids that they should explore all their options if I don’t let them do it.”

“I like that.” Harper smiled.

“No disrespect intended, Harper, but I don’t want Skylar to get the idea she can forgo other subjects because she has a passion for art. You’re getting a break with your paintings, but that doesn’t happen very often. I hope you won’t encourage her to follow her heart at this young age. She still needs guidance.”

“Of course she does.” Harper swallowed the small bubble of resentment that rose at Melanie’s insinuation, but she tried to understand. The world was a scary place, and truly, Harper didn’t want Skylar to go through some of the fires she’d endured on her way to the start of success. “She also needs to explore what she loves best, so she doesn’t resent the rest. I think that’s what happened to me. Let’s make this art show a reward for her doing well in school. I’d be honored if you’d let me help.”

Melanie shook her head, trying to look stern. “You and your dad. You could argue successfully before the Supreme Court.”

She and her dad again. It was beginning to feel like the gods were trying to torture her with these comparisons. “Maybe so.”

“All right, here’s the deal. If you promise to keep this low-key, I’ll okay the activity if the school district allows it.”

“You’re the greatest, Mel.” Harper covered Melanie’s hands. “Skylar will be really happy.”

“Skylar.” Melanie shook her head again. “Maybe I’m hoping this will serve to cure some of her apathy and a little of her anger. She’s not a bad kid, but some days I feel like I’m losing her.”

“She’s growing up. I hear it’s hard on parents.”

“Just wait. You’ll have one soon enough, and you’ll see how painfully right you are.”

Have a child of her own? Harper held in a snort. Now there was a scary thought for the world. “You know what, Super Mom? I’ll take your word for it.”

C
OLE PULLED HIS
old, indestructible Range Rover into a diagonal parking spot in front of Dottie’s Bistro—the oldest and most beloved of Wolf Paw Pass’s cafés—and rubbed his eyes. This meeting had originally been set up for Joely and her mother, but in light of the accident, Leif and Bjorn had agreed he was the most knowledgeable person to talk with Baumgartner and Pearce from Mountain Pacific about their preliminary surveys of Paradise land.

Cole didn’t want anything to do with it.

They hadn’t told Harper about the meeting, a decision Cole thought wrong-headed. Mia had made that decision. It was better, she’d said, to go to Harper with all the facts rather than risk getting her philosophical dander up before the facts were known.

Cole disagreed. She shouldn’t be kept out of any planning, even if to avert a battle, and he didn’t like being in the middle of the sisters’ duel. Nonetheless, here he was, the designated lackey. Harper would undoubtedly see this as him not keeping his promise again, no matter how reluctantly he was performing the task.

Once he’d located the oil company reps in the homey, cabin-like restaurant, Cole watched Magdalen Pearce rise from her chair at an oil-cloth covered table and approach him like an exuberant realtor greeting a potential buyer. He nearly walked away. Instead he gritted his teeth and took her handshake. It rivaled that of a strong marine.

“Mr. Wainwright. Cole,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here despite all the tragedy of the last two days. How are Mrs. Crockett and her daughter doing?”

“Nice of you to ask,” he said, warming slightly. “Mrs. Crockett is improving. Joely is in very critical condition and hasn’t regained consciousness since the accident.”

“I’m so very sorry.”

“My condolences and good thoughts, too.” Brian Baumgartner stood behind his boss and offered his hand as well. “We hope for full recoveries for both of them.”

“Thank you.”

“Sit, please,” Magdalen said. “We have some exciting news to share with you.”

Cole took a seat between the two and removed the Stetson he’d worn in hopes of looking the part of Paradise Ranch’s representative. “You do remember this is strictly an informational meeting,” he said. “I’m not authorized to make any decisions today. The family members will do that.”

“Of course,” Brian said. “We completely understand. This is a huge undertaking and nothing to be taken lightly.”

He began the show and tell without further extraneous chit-chat by pulling two paper rolls from a briefcase beside his chair. He handed one to Magdalen and rolled the other out on the table. Cole was startled to see a detailed aerial photograph of Paradise Ranch, a little like an unnerving spy photo, covered with contour lines and symbols he couldn’t decipher.

“This is a map of the land area we chose our survey sites from. The shaded areas indicate the areas we felt were worth exploring based on geological features and below surface radar. As you can see, coming up from the south, we believed there was a lot of potential.”

“Impressive,” Cole said.

The next map Brian laid out was actually a sheaf of perhaps ten maps that were far more colorful than the aerial photo. Large blocks of red, green, and yellow covered the map topography.

“These maps are the results of what’s known as a Play Fairway Analysis. They’re common risk segment maps or what we sometimes nickname traffic light maps because of the colors. In this case, what you need to know is that the green sections indicate a high potential for geological structures that mark oil pockets and a low risk of failure if we explore further. Red indicates a higher risk that exploration will be unfruitful. Yellow is a medium risk. As you can see, we have a lot of green on these maps.”

What followed for the next hour was a presentation on the areas of Paradise where Mountain Pacific wanted to focus further exploration. The next step involved minor drilling and the building of a temporary service road at the south end of the ranch. It also meant that, from the time exploration began, Paradise would receive lease payments for the right to use the land it explored. The ballpark figures they quoted were enough to make Cole catch his breath. And that, they told him, was the tip of the iceberg.

What made his heart sink was that, other than a section in the southernmost part of the ranch, most of the potential lay directly in the valley between the house and the Teton Range—the most beautiful scenery on the ranch, and the area Harper, Kelly, and Joely—his heart sank further—were going to fight for with the most vehemence.

“So, Cole.” Magdalen sat back in her chair when they were finished, as satisfied as if she’d served the best Thanksgiving meal ever documented. “What do you think?”

“I’m very impressed with the thoroughness of your report,” he said. “But I don’t think anything until I talk to the Crockett family.”

“Do you feel confident in recommending they move forward?”

“You know, I’m honestly not going to say much more today. What I will promise is that I’ll tell them that if they move forward with you, I know you’ll be straightforward and honest with them, and that you’d be sincere in your desire to make this an easy experience for them.”

He half quoted their own sales pitch, but he had been impressed with their honesty as far as he could assess it. He picked up his hat from the chair next to him and held it on his lap.

“I also promise to talk with them about this as soon as I can, given what’s going on. I hope you’ll be patient waiting to hear from them. As I told you, some of the family members have concerns, so there’ll be a lot to address with them.”

“We understand completely. And anytime they want to meet with us themselves, you have them let us know.” Magdalen stood with Cole and shook his hand again.

“I will,” he said. “Thanks for the good information. It’s very helpful.”

They all walked out together and parted after more well wishes for Bella and Joely. Cole’s head spun with numbers and statistics as he climbed into the Rover and set the large folder filled with copies of all pertinent documents, estimates, and facts on the passenger seat. Suddenly, he dreaded going back to the house. In the first place, he had no idea what configuration of Crockett women he’d find. Kelly was due back from Denver for a few days. Harper could be there. Harper and Amelia could be clawing at each other in the mud for all he knew—and the thought was not remotely enticing.

In the second place, he didn’t want to have this discussion about Mountain Pacific. The income potential was phenomenal when viewed in light of Paradise’s current financial situation, but emotions about the issue ran high and hot.

He nearly took the road west out of town and headed for the old Double Diamond. He’d only been back to check things a few times in the four and a half weeks since Sam’s funeral. The house he’d grown up in wasn’t as grand or imposing as Rosecroft, and it didn’t have a name, but it brought him some comfort to know it still stood and would be there when he got the title to the land back. It pulled at him now. He could go there, throw a sleeping bag on his old bed, since most of the furniture, minus what his father had taken to furnish his condo in Jackson, still remained. He could pretend he didn’t have any obligations to the Crocketts.

He sighed and turned east on the road that led straight to Paradise.

A misnomer today if ever there was one.

H
E’D IMAGINED EVERY
scenario possible except the one he actually found in the Crockett kitchen. Honest-to-goodness laughter greeted him, and once in the cozy room, he found Harper, Kelly, Melanie, and Skylar hunkered around the table, heads together over a paper in the center, smiling and laughing. The pup, Asta, skittered under and around the table, chair, and human legs, adding a yipping contribution to the sounds her people were making.

“Cole!” Kelly saw him first and jumped from her chair, crossing the room at a trot to give him a welcoming bear hug. “I’m so glad to see you. How are you, handsome?”

“Handsome as ever, glad you noticed. How are you, Kel? I’m at your service, by the way. A greeting like this is worth a lot.”

He hugged her tightly and let her go.

“Don’t promise service if you aren’t going to deliver, Mr. Wainwright.” Her serious eyes twinkled.

“Oh, I’ll deliver.”

“Excellent. I’ll let you know when I need you. I like having handsome men in my debt.”

“Hmmm,” he said. If any one of the sisters could gather a flock of men to do her bidding it was Kelly—probably because she’d never truly play the part of a seductress, and that was a darn attractive quality. “So, ladies, what’s going on here?”

Asta discovered him then and jumped at his legs, resting her baby front paws on his shin and wiggling with pathetically hopeful eyes. He took a small step back so she stood on the floor, and when she tried to follow him he knelt and took her head gently in one hand. With the other he pushed lightly in front of her tail.

“Sit, Asta,” he said once.

The pup had no idea what he meant and let her butt plop for half a second before she was up wriggling again. Nonetheless, he scooped her into his arms. “Good girl,” he crooned while the dog licked his chin and cheeks as if he were the sweetest treat she’d ever found.

He approached the table, finally finding Harper’s eyes. His pulse raced ahead of his speech and tongue-tied him for several seconds. The last words they’d shared early that morning hadn’t been the kindest, and that had been primarily his fault. How she felt now was anything but obvious.

“Hullo,” he said at last.

“Hi,” she replied.

Cole put the pup in Skylar’s lap. “She’s a smart girl. Did you see how she didn’t fuss when I made her sit? You can start training her already to behave the way you want her to. She won’t remember yet that she should sit before someone pets her, but do it every time and she’ll figure it out super quick.”

“You know about training dogs?” Skylar asked.

“My dad’s hobby was training border collies. I learned from him.”

“Can you show me?”

“Sure.”

Harper’s eyes warmed from impassive brown to hot cocoa rich. “A man of many talents,” she said.

“You have no idea.”

She granted a smile and sent his insides into a hopeful freefall.

“So, guess what?” Skylar pulled his attention back to her.

“What?”

“Harper talked Mom into letting me enter the art contest. And she went to the high school and got the okay even though I don’t go to public school, and then she got me the entry form.”

“That’s pretty big.”

“Look!”

She grabbed the two-sheet form from the table and handed it to him. Asta squirmed to be released and hit the floor running.

The forms were straightforward and 90 percent filled out. “Hey, there’s no name and no category, the two most important things. You forget who you are and what you’re doing?”

She laughed. “We were talking about what name I should use. I kind of don’t want to be Skylar.”

“Nice, right?” Melanie said with an exaggerated sigh. “A good Southern family name, and she wants to ditch it.”

“Who do you want to be?” Cole asked.

“Sky,” she replied.

“That’s pretty.” He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to praise it or not. He was vastly outnumbered here.

“Sky Bluewaters,” Kelly said, eliciting a few giggles.

“Sky Pie. Sky Limit,” Harper said. “I think we’re all a little over tired. These aren’t that funny.”

“I might have to agree.”

“Sky Thorson.” Cole set the application back down in front of her. “I’d go with that. Sounds artistic. But, it’s up to you. Your whole name is pretty classy, too.”

There, that should get him off the diplomatic hook. Skylar looked up at him with some sort of mist or foggy veil in her eyes. She picked up a pen and wrote carefully then handed the application back to Cole.

SKY THORSON

“All right then,” he said. “One decision down.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to enter, though,” she said. “I don’t have anything I did especially for this that’s good enough. I kind of want to paint something new.”

“I told her she has notebooks full of beautiful work.” Melanie shrugged.

“Or I can enter a photograph,” Skylar said. “But I can’t decide.”

“Can you enter one of each?” he asked.

“You can, but it’s expensive.”

“That part doesn’t matter,” Harper said. “Like I said before, if you feel like you have a new idea, work on it. Otherwise, enter something that came from your heart. If you try to plan something you think will win, you’ll lose yourself. Art isn’t for competitions. Competitions are to highlight art.”

Skylar sighed. “Why am I doing this again?”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Melanie sat back and crossed her arms. “Miss Harper went to bat for you. Don’t back out now.”

“I’m not backing out.” Skylar frowned at her. “I’m just nervous.”

“That’s completely normal,” Cole said.

“I guess. But I wish I could be like those French artists or whatever, who take their paints and sit on the top of a hill somewhere they’ve never been and paint for hours.”

“Haven’t you ever done that?” Harper asked.

“My gosh, Harper used to disappear for whole days,” Kelly said. “I remember that even from when I was a really little kid. Dad used to get so mad because she missed chores and a few times came home after dark.”

“Hah, don’t you even think about it.” Melanie laughed, but shook her finger at Skylar.

“I bring my sketchbook out,” Skylar said. “But I’ve never brought the paints. You always say they’re too expensive to take outside.” She looked accusingly at her mother.

“They are. I can see them getting smashed in your saddle bags or dropped and lost. Call me over-frugal.”

“I wouldn’t lose my
paints
for crying out loud.”

“You need a writer’s retreat.” Kelly nodded emphatically. “Remember, Harper, how you used to make them up for yourself?”

“I did.” Harper’s eyes took on a faraway look. “When I figured out my Dad got less upset if I planned ahead, I would have my own overnight in one of the range cabins out in the far summer pastures.”