Fourteen

Brant had been having such a great time with Talulah that being cut off from her much sooner than should’ve been necessary—because of Charlie—made him mad. It also upset him that Charlie would try to hurt her by throwing a rock through her window and messaging Paul.

After spending several hours fixing the feed for the cattle on the ranch to minimize the bloat problem they’d been having, he quit around noon, showered up and drove over to his ex-best friend’s.

Charlie lived on the opposite side of town in a double-wide mobile home on two acres. It was a nice piece of land he’d purchased himself, but he hadn’t spent any time or money improving it, which was ironic, given his profession. When Brant pulled in, he saw the same things he’d seen for the past five years—a stack of old tires cast to one side of a barn that needed a fresh coat of paint, if not some structural reinforcement, a used motorcycle Charlie had bought several years ago that hadn’t run from the beginning, an old El Camino he planned to restore one day and an ATV. Brant knew the ATV worked because he owned one himself and occasionally he and Charlie took them out for some fun.

He hadn’t been sure he’d find Charlie at home. Most people were at work this time of day. But Charlie didn’t put in a whole lot of hours, so Brant wasn’t all that surprised to see his car in the drive.

He pulled in behind the Explorer and got out, and Charlie’s front door opened before he could even reach the steps leading up to it.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie demanded, walking out onto the wooden landing.

Brant stopped on the grass that’d been worn down to bare dirt near the bottom step. “I certainly haven’t come to apologize.”

That Brant was still angry seemed to shock Charlie. “You’re really going to let a bitch like Talulah come between us?”

Brant flinched at Charlie’s words. He knew they probably shouldn’t bother him, but they did. “Don’t call her that.”

Charlie’s jaw sagged at the menace in his voice. “Are you kidding me? What’s gotten into you? Do you really like her that much? More than me?”

“This isn’t about who I like and who I don’t like. It’s about the bullshit way you’re behaving. I never saw you as the type of man who’d pick on a woman.”

Charlie looked confused. “Letting her boyfriend know she’s been cheating on him is picking on a woman?”

“They aren’t together.”

“Tell him that.”

“I don’t have to,” Brant bit out. “She already has.”

Charlie drilled him with a penetrating look, after which he started to laugh. “Oh my God. You’ve fallen for her! I kept telling myself that couldn’t be it. You never fall that hard for anybody, but that’s what’s happening here, isn’t it? That’s the only thing that could explain your behavior.”

“You’re reaching,” Brant said. “She’s hardly been here a week.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve already spent a lot of time with her.”

“Not really.”

Charlie’s eyebrows arched at the way Brant had immediately discounted the statement. “How many nights has it been?”

“That’s none of your business. I’m just here to tell you that you’d better not do anything else to her, or the little skirmishes you and I have had recently will turn into something a lot more serious.”

His eyes flew wide. “You’re threatening me?”

“I’m being straight up with you,” Brant corrected.

“You think I threw that rock through her window, don’t you?”

“I do,” Brant stately flatly. “Because you did.”

Charlie’s face turned beet red. “How do you know? Were you there?”

“It’s a simple process of elimination. Who else would do it?”

“How am I supposed to know? But I’m telling you it wasn’t me. I admit I wrote Paul on Instagram. I already told you that. I think he should know what she’s doing while she’s here. I’d want to know if I were him—”

“That’s an excuse,” Brant interrupted with a wave of his hand. “You don’t give a shit about Paul. You’ve never even met him. You did it to mess with Talulah.”

“If she’s cheating, she deserves what she gets,” he said, as enragingly stubborn as ever. “And if she’s not cheating, I didn’t do anything wrong, because Paul won’t care.”

“You know he cares!”

“Then she should’ve considered how he’d feel. She’s leaving town after she sells her aunt’s house. You realize that, don’t you?”

“Of course I realize that.”

“So what’s your plan here? Do you think she’ll fall in love with you, sell her business and move back to Coyote Canyon?”

“All I want is for you to leave her alone,” Brant said. “You got that? No more stitches or other injuries. No more screwing with her relationships. Go on about your business as you should’ve done from the beginning and don’t try to hurt her again.” Message delivered, Brant turned on his heel and strode back to his truck. But just as he was getting behind the wheel, Charlie yelled.

“She’s going to break your heart into a million tiny pieces, and I’m going to laugh my head off when she does!”

Ignoring him, Brant shifted into Reverse and whipped out of Charlie’s rutted drive. Talulah wasn’t going to break his heart. He’d have to be in love with her for that.

Talulah couldn’t stop fidgeting. She’d been too anxious about the funeral to sleep, so she’d gotten up well before dawn and written her speech. Then Jane had come over to see how her arm was and to help with the food, and they’d managed to finish everything before noon.

After Jane left, Talulah had jumped into the shower and she was now ready with forty-five minutes to spare. She’d even spoken briefly to her sister—no labor pains yet, just her best wishes for a smooth funeral—and painted her fingernails, something she rarely did because she used her hands so often in her work.

It didn’t matter how prepared she felt, however; nerves were still getting the best of her.

Wearing a black sleeveless dress with a strand of pearls at her neck and matching stud earrings, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if she should’ve worn something else for the day. She looked like she was going to a swanky cocktail party in Seattle and didn’t want to be overdressed. Some of the people here might assume she’d gone “big city” or was trying to show off. And funerals did seem, generally, to have grown more casual since she was a kid. But her whole goal was to make her aunt proud, and she knew Phoebe believed strongly in convention. In her aunt’s opinion, nothing short of a nice black dress would be appropriate for a funeral, so that was what Talulah was going to wear.

Fortunately, if she had her guess, many of the women from Phoebe’s church would also be in dresses, so she shouldn’t feel too out of place—or any more out of place than she would for other reasons.

As she slipped her feet into a pair of Christian Louboutin heels—shoes Paul had purchased for her when they were out celebrating the first anniversary of their business and she happened to see them in a store window—she mentally rehearsed the remarks she planned to make when it came time for her to speak. Sarah Carrier had emailed her the program. She’d be last, which came as both a relief, because she’d have a chance to get accustomed to the room and summon her nerve, and a concern, because she’d have so long to dread it.

Grabbing a small black clutch, she put her lip gloss inside, along with some tissues. Since all the food had been picked up, she didn’t have to worry about that. She dabbed perfume on her neck, hurried downstairs and locked the front door behind her without having to carry anything awkward or heavy.

She was trying not to twist an ankle while crossing the uneven ground to the garage when her phone signaled an incoming text.

Preparing to let her mother know that everything was set for the funeral and all was well, she looked down. But it was Brant who’d messaged her.

Since she was so early, she took the time to respond. As good as I can feel.

He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he asked another one of his own. What about Jane? She going?

She bit her lip as she tried to decide how to respond. Maintaining a friendship with him meant she’d only keep thinking about him, missing him, wanting to see him again. And she still hadn’t heard from Paul. He refused to pick up when she called. He wouldn’t text her back, either. She was afraid she was facing a major rift with him and was worried that he might be hiring an attorney to try to take control of the dessert diner.

That thought caused terror to rise inside her, but she quickly tamped it down. She couldn’t think about Paul or her business right now. She had to get through the next several hours first. And it wasn’t as if Brant had suggested she sleep with him again. He’d merely asked her to let him know about the funeral. How could she say no to that?

Sure, she responded and dropped the phone into her clutch before climbing into her SUV.

The church wasn’t far, only a five-minute drive, but she planned to arrive early. She didn’t want everyone staring at her as she walked in. But the parking lot was already half-full when she got there.

“Shoot,” she mumbled as she pulled into a stall.

Sarah Carrier was crossing the blacktop as she left her car. When Talulah waved, she smiled. “I saw all the food in the kitchen when we were setting up,” she said. “It looks amazing, especially those gorgeous carrot cakes.”

“Thank you. I hope there’ll be enough for everyone.”

“I’m sure there will be. We might even have some to spare.”

Crossing her fingers, Talulah held them up in response.

Sarah assured her that the programs had been printed and the tables, chairs, tablecloths, paper plates and plastic cutlery were in a separate room, awaiting the food, and Talulah thanked her once again before someone else called Sarah’s name and she turned away as they entered the building.

Here we go, Talulah thought. The afternoon would be long and torturous, but she’d get through it somehow.

Bracing for whomever she might see, she pasted a smile on her face as she greeted various people who were milling around, waiting for the viewing to start. Her aunt’s casket had been placed in the foyer, along with a plethora of funeral arrangements, a large picture on an easel of Phoebe sitting at her beloved piano dressed in green and red, suggesting it’d been taken at a church Christmas program. There was also a side table that held a guestbook where people could write their sympathy to the family or share a memory of Phoebe.

Talulah understood that as Phoebe’s only family present at the funeral, she was to stand next to the casket. But she wasn’t ready to take her place quite yet. She ducked into the kitchen to spend a few more minutes by herself—and to avoid the cloying, overpowering scent of the carnations, plus make sure the food had been prepped according to her specifications. She’d turn on the ovens when it was time to drive behind the hearse to the cemetery so the lasagna could be heating up while they were gone.

She lingered in the kitchen, out of sight, until she heard the organ. Then she threw back her shoulders and made her way to the casket, where she stared down at her aunt’s drawn face. The mortician had done a decent job with her hair and makeup. Always tall and thin, with high cheekbones, clear eyes and a direct manner, Phoebe looked almost regal against the satin interior of the casket. She’d aged well overall, but she still had the paper-thin cheeks that seemed to come with age, and her hair was ratted and styled on top of her head the way she’d worn it since Talulah could remember.

It was a strange, almost surreal moment, when she felt, for perhaps the first time—since she’d been so concerned with the funeral logistics and getting through the necessary work—the tremendous loss of a person who’d been accomplished in many ways. Times had changed, and Phoebe had refused to change with them, so she represented a bygone era, and the memories she held of almost an entire century would be lost with her.

“I’m sorry,” someone said, reminding her that she had a duty to perform, and she turned to greet Phoebe’s friends and fellow church members as they streamed past to offer their condolences.

Some of the people she recognized. They were not only friends of Phoebe’s, they were longtime friends of her parents’. Many of them mentioned seeing her at church or school when she was a child. A few of her teachers, her volleyball coach from high school and loads and loads of Phoebe’s piano students spoke to her. Talulah couldn’t help but be impressed by the number of lives her aunt had touched. She hoped Phoebe was somehow aware of the size of her funeral.

Fortunately, none of Charlie’s family showed up. Had she been wrong in assuming they’d attend the funeral?

As the viewing ended and everyone began to wander into the meeting hall, Talulah held back, giving herself a short break until almost everyone else was seated inside. When she couldn’t stall any longer, she drew a deep breath and started for the door.

Dr. Gregor stood there, handing out the programs. He greeted her again, even though he’d spoken to her during the viewing. “Would you like a program?” he asked before she could continue past him.

She smiled as she accepted one, and a glance inside confirmed that she’d be the final speaker. Her talk was simply titled “Tribute to Phoebe Christensen by Talulah Barclay.”

She’d seen nothing but friendly faces so far, but she suspected her luck wouldn’t hold, and she was right. As she made her way down the aisle she could feel the steely gaze of Dinah and George Gerhart, Charlie’s parents. They must’ve entered the church, along with several other members of their family, from the far side. Although she was careful not to look in their direction, Talulah was fairly confident Averil wasn’t with them, and once she got to the raised dais, she could see that Charlie wasn’t, either.

She was just breathing a sigh of relief and feeling encouraged about getting through the rest of the day when Charlie walked in wearing a beautifully tailored button-down shirt, a classy tie and stylish black slacks. Averil was with him, leading her son, Mitch, by the hand. She was also dressed in black slacks, except that hers were paired with a pretty pink blouse. They both cast her a look that told her they hadn’t come to grieve the loss of her mother’s aunt; they were there to make her as self-conscious and uncomfortable as possible.

Refusing to let them intimidate her, she sat taller as she searched the crowd for Jane. She was halfway hoping Jane would be there, after all, but she wasn’t. So Talulah searched for other people she liked. There was Dr. Gregor, of course, but he was speaking to someone at the door, and she could see only a small slice of him, so she located Sarah Carrier, who was smiling at her from one of the middle pews.

Talulah was just finding her center again when a small stir over by the Gerharts drew her attention back to the door, since that was where they were all looking, and she was shocked to see Brant stride in.

Holding a program in his left hand, he winked at her as he made his way down the aisle.

He’d barely known her great aunt. He hadn’t come for Phoebe. He’d come to support her, and she was feeling so vulnerable that his small kindness nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Both Averil and Charlie strained to get a better look at him as he took a seat by himself in the very front pew, but Brant ignored them. Clean-shaven, he had his hair combed back with some product to hold it in place.

She found the fact that he’d put some effort into his appearance so endearing that she could feel the brittle smile she’d been wearing soften and become genuine. He was incredibly sexy in his Wranglers and work boots, even though they didn’t go with his dress shirt, which had fold lines that made it obvious he’d taken it out of the package right before putting it on.

The pastor started the service with a hymn, an opening prayer and some remarks of his own. Then two of Phoebe’s best piano students spoke about how Phoebe had influenced them, and three young women sang a beautiful rendition of “How Great Thou Art.”

Talulah watched the clock, growing more and more anxious about getting up in front of everyone when she was persona non grata to the Gerharts and any friends who sided with them. They seemed to think they owned the town. But she felt Brant silently encouraging her, and when the time finally came, she did her best. She talked about Sunday dinners at Phoebe’s when she was small, how Phoebe would accept nothing less than the maximum effort from her piano students and how particular she was about her house and person. Talulah also talked about what a wonderful pianist her great aunt was, that she could cook or can anything and how much her garden had meant to her. She finished with the important role Phoebe had played in her mother’s life, and before she knew it, her speech was over.

Grateful to have it behind her, she braved a glance into the audience as she sat back down and saw several people drying their eyes. Only Charlie and his family were glaring at her. They would’ve preferred she embarrass herself in some way.

The music swelled as they sang “The Lord is my Shepherd,” and Dr. Gregor gave the closing prayer before everyone got up to leave.

Talulah knew she couldn’t show too much interest in Brant or, given the rumors, the residents of Coyote Canyon would think they were now an item. But after several people approached her to say how much they’d enjoyed her tribute, and she’d escaped to the kitchen to turn on the ovens and put in the lasagnas, she found him waiting for her at the door to the parking lot, and she was so grateful to him for coming, she couldn’t stop herself from walking right up to him. “I can’t believe you came,” she said, her voice low. “Funerals are miserable enough when you know who’s died.”

He scanned the foyer. “I didn’t mind it. I enjoyed hearing you talk.”

“Really?”

He’d already loosened his tie. “You made your mother’s aunt sound...admirable, strong. Since I know she was also difficult, you had to walk a fine line to still be honest, and you did a good job with it.”

“I admit I struggled a little when I was figuring out what I wanted to say.”

He was looking at her with more interest than a typical friend, and she felt her face heat as his gaze moved down over her dress. “You look good.”

So did he. What he’d worn wasn’t going to win any fashion awards, but he was so attractive it didn’t matter. “Thanks. What made you change your mind about coming today?”

“I knew Charlie was planning to be here, and I wasn’t about to let him intimidate you.”

“How’d you know? Did he tell you?”

“He did a few days ago. He could’ve changed his mind since then, but I had a little talk with him at his place earlier, and as I was leaving, I realized he was getting dressed up for something. I figured it was the funeral.”

“You went to his house today? What’d he say?”

“That he didn’t throw that rock through your window. Are you sure it was him?”

Talulah remembered the car that’d come by last night while she was sitting out on the porch swing. She thought it might’ve been Averil, but she wasn’t going to say so. She didn’t want to come between Brant and any more of his friends. “I’m not positive. Like I told you before, all I saw was a pair of headlights.”

The hearse was ready to go. Talulah could see it through the glass doors of the church. The driver from the mortuary sat behind the wheel, waiting. “I’ve got to get going, or I’ll hold up the entire procession. But I appreciate you coming. It...it made the service a lot easier for me,” she admitted.

“No problem.” The crooked smile he gave her made her think of him naked in bed, leaning above her, and the way her body reacted to that memory, with a flood of awareness and excitement, surprised her.

“If you’d like to hang around,” she heard herself say, “I managed to finish preparing all the food for the dinner. I even have homemade carrot cake for dessert. We’ll eat here as soon as the graveside part is over.”

His eyes scanned the foyer, once again taking in the few people who were lingering behind. “Do you think Charlie and his family will be going to the cemetery?”

“Since coming here didn’t give them the satisfaction they were looking for, I wouldn’t doubt it.” She knew the Gerharts were too curious and upset about Brant’s showing up not to go. They’d want to see if he came to the cemetery, too, and how she and Brant acted around each other.

“Then I’ll go. Do you want to ride with me?”

“I wish I could, but—” she twisted around to see behind her, and, fortunately, didn’t find any of the Gerharts “—I don’t dare.”

He didn’t press her. He knew why she was refusing. “Have you heard from Paul?”

“Not yet.”

“What about the diner?” he asked with a frown. “Is he there, taking care of things?”

“No. One of our best employees has been acting as manager in his absence.”

“Shit.” He unbuttoned the top button of his new shirt, revealing more of his smooth tanned neck. “You gotta be worried about that.”

“I am. But she seems to be getting by at the moment, and knowing she’s there is helping me hold myself together.”

“It’ll all work out,” he said. “See you at the cemetery.”

She hesitated. “You don’t have to go. Really.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m easily bought and you did promise to feed me after.”

Laughing, she rose up to give him a hug as she would any friend. But no contact with Brant ever turned out to be as casual as it was intended. She felt his big hands slide up her back and briefly press her to him and couldn’t even look at him as she pulled away, for fear he’d see the effect he had on her. Instead, she ducked her head and started to open the door.

“Talulah?”

Stopping, she forced herself to look back at him and, as his eyes locked with hers, a huge smile spread across his face. He knew she was feeling something. Maybe he felt it, too.