“I take it back,” Gillian said as she flipped Bliss Salon’s OPEN sign to read CLOSED. “Lindsay isn’t the T. rex of bridezillas. She’s the Spinosaurus.”
“I’m not familiar with that dinosaur,” her mother replied as she rehung the gown Lindsay had left piled on the floor.
“I wasn’t either, but I googled most dangerous dinosaur after she yelled at Erica.”
Barbara gave an amused snort. “I hate to defend Lindsay, but Erica deserved it. I’d forgotten how much I disliked that girl. She’s very passive-aggressive, isn’t she? It wasn’t kind of her to constantly call attention to the size of Lindsay’s hips. That’s not appropriate behavior for a maid of honor.”
“That’s typical Erica,” Gillian said with a shrug. “Lindsay’s in love, and apparently, Erica is fresh off a bad relationship, so she’s going to have her claws out.”
“Jealousy is such an ugly trait. Despite all that professional success she made sure to share with us, Erica is obviously an unhappy woman.”
“Bless her heart,” Gillian drawled.
Mother and daughter shared a smile, then Barbara glanced at the clock. “All in all, it was a successful appointment, and I won’t complain. We got them out of here only an hour and a half past closing time.”
“You did a brilliant sales job, Mother. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, dear.” Barbara disappeared into the dressing room and returned a moment later with her arms full of a wedding gown. “Want to put this one back on the mannequin for me?”
Gillian frowned. “Are we switching out our display window already?”
“No. I want to display this one in the parlor for a bit. This is my favorite dress in the shop right now.”
“It is gorgeous,” Gillian agreed. She accepted the dress from her mother and got to work dressing the naked mannequin in the corner.
Aside from Lindsay Grant and Erica Chadwick, today had been a lovely day. Caroline was so happy with her gown. It had been fun to watch—
“Ow!”
Barbara’s pained exclamation interrupted her thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Barbara responded. “Poked myself with a pin. How are you coming with the bustle?”
“I may get it fastened by Thursday,” Gillian grumbled. For the second time that day, she knelt on her hands and knees beneath yards of satin and lace, warring with the buttons and tabs of a ball gown bustle. When she finally accomplished her mission, she backed out of the skirt and looked up at her mother. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that the gown Caroline chose only requires ten tabs to bustle. Makes my bridesmaid’s duties much less stressful. This is some bustle, Mom.”
“I know,” Barbara Thacker agreed. She bent over beside Gillian and gave the satin skirt a fluff. “You have to admit the ball gown bustle is perfect for this dress. Didn’t Caroline say it made her feel like a princess?”
“She did. This gown is definitely fit for a princess bride.”
Barbara flicked her gaze toward her daughter and casually suggested, “Perhaps you should try it on.”
Gillian looked down and dusted invisible dirt off her black slacks. Then, while rolling up the sleeves of her crisp, white cotton shirt, she met her mother’s gaze. “Mom, I have my dress. It’s a beautiful dress. It’s just what I want.”
Barbara hesitated a moment, and Gillian braced herself. Her mother was obviously choosing her words with care. So far, the two of them had navigated the treacherous wedding-planning waters with relative ease, mostly because their wishes ran along the same wavelength. But wedding gowns were Barbara Thacker’s business, her area of expertise. Her art. She knew every dress in her shop. She knew what alterations could be done to each gown to fulfill a bride-to-be’s dreams. And most apropos in this case, she had created the number one rule regarding sales at Bliss Bridal Salon: When it comes to choosing her dream dress, the bride is always right. The mother of the bride’s opinion only matters if it matters to the bride.
Gillian sensed that this MOB was about to break the rule.
Don’t get defensive. Don’t get angry. Mom feels passionately about this, she’s the best mother in the world, and you need to let her have her say.
“We’ve danced around this for months,” Barbara finally stated. “Let me say this once, and I’ll never bring it up again. Fair enough?”
“Okay.” Gillian swallowed hard.
“You are planning a fabulous wedding. Your organizational skills, your attention to detail, your instincts and imagination and eye for design—the planning process plays to all of your strengths. For a year now, you’ve poured your heart and soul and energy into creating the perfect day for you and Jeremy. It’s going to be beautiful, and you’re going to be beautiful, and our guests are going to have a spectacular time. Of that, I have no doubt.”
And here comes the but.
“But.” Barbara reached down and cupped Gillian’s cheek in her palm. “All the hard work, all the planning, all the dreaming—I don’t want you to look back on your wedding with any regrets. That’s why I’m about to break rule number one.”
Bingo!
“I’m afraid you will someday regret your choice of wedding gown. Oh, it’s a gorgeous dress. I admit that. It fits you and flatters you, and no one who sees you on your father’s arm walking up the aisle in church will think you made a poor choice. Jeremy will certainly love it.”
“He will.”
“But, Gillian, that gown is not your dream gown. You are the bride. You should have your dream gown.”
“Mom—”
“Don’t try to argue otherwise.” Barbara stepped away from Gillian and began pacing the room. “I am the keeper of the scrapbooks, remember? Your idea books. You were how old when you compiled the first one? Nine? Ten?”
“Nine,” Gillian grumbled.
“When was the last time you looked back at the beginning of your Pinterest wedding board? Every gown on it has one thing in common. Every gown is a princess gown. Every single one. That’s been your dream dress since you were a little girl. You’ve never wanted to be a boho bride. It was never your style. You chose your wedding gown to please Jeremy, not yourself. You chose it because that’s the style Jeremy said he loves. Not because you do.”
Gillian rose to her feet. “I do love the dress I chose.”
“I know. I love it too. Just not for you at your wedding. It’s not your dream dress.”
Gillian opened her mouth to protest, but her mother knew her too well. She would hear the lie, so Gillian chose to say nothing.
“Look, I understand making choices to please the man you love, I do. Grooms should have input into wedding decisions, but the dress—no.” Barbara’s gaze turned imploring. “Honey, you are the bride. It’s your wedding gown, not Jeremy’s. You’ve worked for almost a year now to create a fairy-tale wedding, and I can’t believe you’ve chosen not to be true to your own vision for the most personal part of it. And your shoes!” Barbara added, holding up her hand in emphasis. “Let’s not leave the shoes out of this. Sandals? Seriously? Gillian, it’s always—always—been rhinestone-embellished heels.”
“Sandals will be much more comfortable to dance in.”
“That’s why Kate Spade makes sparkle Keds!”
Gillian couldn’t argue with her, so she didn’t try. She could, however, attempt to explain. “Mom, you’ve seen those videos online where grooms get choked up and teary-eyed when they get their first look at their brides? I want that moment. I want my groom to look at me and see the woman of his dreams and be so overcome with emotion that he’ll get misty-eyed.”
“Oh, Gillian.” Barbara sighed. “How is it that you and I can be so much alike but at the same time so different? I don’t understand young women today. From my perspective, that’s like walking down the aisle saying ‘Am I good enough for you?’ instead of ‘Here I come, you lucky bastard.’ Honestly, this is not why I burned my bra when I was a teenager. It’s not the feminism we fought for. It’s all well and good to be the woman of his dreams, but not at the sacrifice of your dreams!”
“You burned your bra? I thought that happened in the sixties? You weren’t a teenager in the sixties.”
“I’m speaking figuratively.”
“And I’m being pragmatic. It’s not a dream, Mom. It’s a dress.”
“Well, now.” Barbara folded her arms and lifted her chin. “That’s a heckuva statement for the co-owner of one of the most successful bridal salons in Texas. And here I thought the reason we’ve done so well for the past five years is because we sell dreams in the form of dresses!”
Gillian winced. She’d stepped into that one, hadn’t she? “You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I’m feeling defensive.”
Now it was Barbara’s turn to wince. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. The dress you chose is lovely, and you look fabulous in it.”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“I won’t bring it up again. Those words have been burning a hole in me, and I just needed to get them out.”
“I understand, and I appreciate your honesty and the fact that I can trust you to always be honest with me.”
Her tone wry, Barbara asked, “Even if doing so broke rule number one?”
“Well.” Gillian shrugged. “Maybe we should think of it as a professional lesson. Reminds us both just how important rule number one is in the wedding gown business.
“True.” Barbara sighed and added, “If only motherhood had such a clear set of rules.”
A note in her mother’s voice had Gillian giving her a sharp look. Barbara’s teeth nibbled at her lower lip. Not a good sign. Her mother wasn’t done yet.
“Well, like the saying goes, in for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well get this off my chest too. Honey, is everything okay between you and Jeremy?”
Gillian bent over and straightened the magazines on the coffee table. Something fluttered in her stomach. Nerves. Normal bridal jitters. That’s all.
She met her mother’s gaze. “Why would you ask that?”
“I just, well, I’ve sensed some … I don’t know … tension.”
Gillian shrugged and shifted her gaze to the princess gown. She smoothed a wrinkle from the fabric. “Wedding planning is stressful. It’s normal for couples to fight. You’ve been around enough brides to know that.”
“So, you two have been fighting?”
Fighting wasn’t the right word, but yes, something had changed in her relationship with Jeremy since the events in September. When they’d left the Buc-ee’s in Temple that Saturday, he’d chosen to take her on to Dallas rather than back to Redemption like she’d expected, and they’d made the mutual decision to wait until they arrived at their destination to have their needed talk. Exhausted, Gillian had slept for much of the drive. After checking into a hotel downtown, they’d ordered room service and a bottle of wine. Gillian didn’t drink, but the bottle was two-thirds gone before Jeremy finally opened up.
He’d admitted to getting drunk and kissing another woman while away at the symposium over Labor Day weekend.
Gillian was shocked, hurt, but under the circumstances, she couldn’t very well get mad about that, could she?
That led to a heart-to-heart conversation during which she’d told him about what had transpired between her and Tucker McBride. Jeremy had been shocked, hurt, but under the circumstances …
Jeremy had apologized. Gillian had apologized. He’d declared his love for her, and she’d responded in kind. They’d both committed to give 100 percent to their relationship, and when he’d offered her the ring back, she’d accepted it.
Nevertheless, the events of September had been an earthquake in their relationship, and they continued to experience tremors. Trust had taken a hit, but they were rebuilding. It had been a wake-up call for them both not to take each other for granted. Gillian was confident they’d end up stronger because of it.
Wasn’t she?
“It’s pre-wedding jitters,” she told her mother. “Most every couple has them at one time or another. It’s normal.”
Barbara gave her a searching gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Okay, honey. That’s good to hear. However, since I started this ball rolling already, I’ll say one more thing and get it off my chest, and then we will be done with it. Okay?”
Could I stop you? “Okay.”
“You’ve been planning this wedding for a year. You’ve put your heart and soul and dreams into it, and I know how much you want it to be a fairy-tale day. I want that for you too. But, sweetheart, being in the industry, you and I both have heard stories of brides who have gone through with weddings they knew they should have canceled. That’s a mistake I don’t want you to make.”
“Mom.”
Barbara held up her index finger. “Gillian, if you have serious doubts at any point—even as your father is walking you down the aisle—I want you to promise me that you’ll listen to them and act. Don’t allow the wedding to prevent you from calling a halt to getting married.”
“I won’t, Mom.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. But you don’t need to worry because that’s not going to happen,” Gillian assured both her mother and herself. “Jeremy and I are fine. There’s so much going on, what with the holidays and wedding planning and getting everything ready to launch Blissful Events. We’re just stressed.”
“Okay, then.” Barbara crossed to Gillian and took her in her arms for a hug. “I needed to say my piece, and now I’ve said it. I only want what’s best for you, Gillian.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Let’s call it a night, shall we? Your father is making Tuscan chicken for dinner. Care to join us?”
“My favorite. Of course, I’ll join you.” Gillian pressed a kiss to Barbara’s cheek and added, “And I love you, Mom. To the moon and back.”
“And I love you too, baby girl. I love you too.”
In harmony with each other once again, the Thacker women locked up and walked out of Bliss Salon and into the crisp winter evening.
The fish turned out fabulous, and Tucker and Jackson staged a mock battle over the last piece to entertain a giggling Haley. Caroline gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes, then swooped in to steal the fillet right off her fiancé’s fork.
Afterward, they built a fire in the pit and roasted marshmallows on skewers while Haley continued to enthusiastically share details about her afternoon with Uncle T. As the tangy scent of burning cedar drifted over them, the conversation moved on to a debate between Caroline and Haley about the perfect amount of marshmallow char needed to create the perfect s’more. Tucker and Jackson stood back from the crackling fire and watched. Softly, Jackson said, “She’s happy tonight.”
“She did great today.”
“She really took a fish off her hook?”
“She did. Two of them. Baited the hooks herself too.”
“I’m impressed. Thanks for taking Haley under your wing, Tucker.”
“Glad to do it. I hope it helps.”
“Already has. She was a knot-tying fool last night. Went through the house tying together anything that dangled. Kept her distracted during the hours that her mother was on an airplane.”
“Where is our favorite famous pop star off to this time?”
Jackson cut Tucker a sardonic look. His relationship with his ex-wife had improved since the mid-September plane crash, but nobody would call her his favorite anything. As for Tucker, well, he’d never liked the woman even before she’d dragged Jackson to hell and back over custody issues.
“Nashville,” Jackson said. “Studio meetings. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
Both men were distracted when Haley giggled as the marshmallow Caroline was toasting went up in flames. Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. “I love hearing that sound.”
“Pretty music, for sure.”
“This is the happiest I’ve seen Haley in weeks. You’re really good with her.” Jackson gave Tucker a sidelong glance and added, “Maybe now that you’re out of the army, you should think about getting married and having an ankle-biter or twelve of your own.”
“Twelve!”
“Cheaper by the dozen,” Jackson said with a shrug.
“In what universe?” Tucker’s gaze fixed on the beautiful little girl and the yearning that he’d experienced earlier returned in spades. “Actually, I’ve thought about that. I wouldn’t mind having a family of my own. You know, you’re not married to the lovely Caroline yet. Maybe I should swoop in and steal her away from you.”
“Try it and die. Never mind that you wouldn’t stand a chance. Caroline loves me.”
“But I am the charming cousin. Granddad always said so. If I turned on the charm—”
“What charm? It’s been AWOL for a decade now. Besides, Caroline and I are soul mates. She’s my music and my muse. She’s the song my heart sings each day I awaken lying next to her.”
“Those are some pretty poetic words, cousin. Gonna write ’em down?”
“Actually, I already have.” Jackson’s jade-green eyes glowed with joy. “She’s given me back my music, Tucker. I’m writing some good stuff these days.”
“That’s awesome.” Tucker clapped his cousin on the back. “I’m glad for you, man. Really happy for you both.”
As if sensing that she was the topic of the cousins’ conversation, Caroline looked away from the marshmallow roasting over the fire and smiled brilliantly at the McBride cousins. Tucker added, “Your lady sparkles. You are one lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it. Caroline bought her wedding gown this morning. She’s been dancing on air ever since.”
“What is it about women and weddings?” Tucker asked. “A woman I worked with in DC had a daughter getting married last year. The two of them were on the phone half a dozen times every day talking about everything from swizzle sticks to bridesmaid’s robes to playlists. And the money involved … it’s crazy.”
“I don’t think Caroline’s one to worry about swizzle sticks, but she’s been all about the dress for a while now. Wedding gowns are big business. Took her three weeks to get an appointment at Gillian Thacker’s dress shop, and Gillian is one of her bridesmaids!”
Tucker gave Jackson a doubting look. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. That shop does a bang-up business. Gillian’s mother is apparently some sort of wedding gown guru, and women come from all over the state to buy their dresses from her.”
“I met Barbara Thacker. She and her sister spent a weekend at the inn last month. Seems like a nice lady.”
“Barbara is good people. So is Gillian.” Jackson hesitated a moment before adding, “Not so sure about the guy she’s marrying.”
Tucker’s interest went on high alert, but he kept his tone casual. “I don’t think I’ve met him.”
“You will. Once Jeremy Jones finds out that you play golf, he’ll be your new best friend.”
I doubt that. “What don’t you like about him?”
“I’m not sure. Can’t quite put my finger on it. I may be totally wrong about the guy too. Caroline likes him a lot. Maybe I just don’t like him because I can’t seem to beat him on the course.”
“You’ve never beaten me.”
“Proves my point. I don’t like you either.”
The conversation was interrupted when Caroline approached. “It’s a school night, so it’s best I start herding Haley toward home. I need to stop by the Fallen Angel on the way and drop off some books Angelica has ordered for Christmas presents. Do you want me to take River with us?”
Caroline and Jackson had both come from work, so they’d arrived in separate vehicles. River was Jackson’s yellow Lab. “I’ll bring River with me.”
Listening to the conversation, Haley asked, “But you’ll put him in my room when you get home so he can sleep with me, right?”
“Of course. Days with me, nights with you is our deal.”
Caroline said, “Gather up your things, sweetie. Angelica is expecting us.”
“She’ll give me a cookie!”
“You just ate s’mores,” Jackson pointed out. “You don’t need cookies too.”
“Sure I do. Cookies make me happy.”
Tucker grinned. It was an argument he knew his cousin couldn’t resist. He winked at Haley and said, “You’re a smart little cookie, sugar bug.”
“I know.”
“Now, give us a hug good night.”
Haley ran first to her father, hugged and kissed him good night. Then she went into Tucker’s arms. “Thank you so much, Uncle T. I had a super time. It was the bestest day.”
“I had fun too,” Tucker said, returning her hug and meaning it. He picked her up and spun her around. “Next time, we’re going to work some more on fire building.”
With the women departed, the cousins fell silent for a time, enjoying the peace of the chilly winter evening, the crackle of the campfire, and the soft snoring of the dog lying nearby.
Tucker’s thoughts returned to Gillian and her beau. So, Jackson didn’t care for the fiancé, hmm? Interesting. Wonder just how good a golfer ol’ Jeremy was? Tucker might have to see about getting up a game with him. The idea of whipping the man’s butt on the links had a real appeal, which was saying something. He hadn’t wanted to play golf since his last round at Congressional. He’d played with some Congress critters at the order of his CO, and he’d hated every minute of it. Those snakes had—
“Maybe you should think about doing more of this,” Jackson said, interrupting Tucker’s musings.
“Family fish fries?”
“Well, yes. That was damned good fish. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the lessons with Haley.”
Tucker picked up a branch to stir the fire. “You know I’m happy to spend as much time with her as you guys want. I do think it’s helping her.”
“I do too. Haley’s time with you here in Enchanted Canyon has been great for her. But the thing is, I believe it’s been good for you too. Listen, I have an idea.”
“That’s always dangerous.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t argue that. Especially in light of what’s happened since I mentioned my idea to Boone.”
Tucker tossed the cedar branch onto the fire and shot Jackson a wary look. “Why do I think I’m not going to be thrilled about the direction this conversation is about to take?”
“Probably because you’ve known Boone all your life. Bossiest sonofagun on the planet.”
The gentle breeze switched directions, and smoke drifted toward them. Tucker savored the scent. He did love the smell of burning cedar. “What have you two done?”
Now it was Jackson’s turn to get a stick and poke the fire. “It’s kind of a long story, although it’s only been a couple of weeks. But you know Boone.”
“I know Boone. I repeat. What have you two done?”
“Okay. Here’s the deal.” He jabbed a log and sparks rose into the winter night. “At the risk of bringing up a touchy subject, this is quite the extended vacation you’ve been taking. It’s not like you.”
Tucker shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Thinking about joining the circus.”
“Bad news for you there, cuz. I think the circus has gone out of business.”
“Seriously?”
“I think so. The circus with animals, anyway. Issues with animal cruelty.”
“Huh.”
“Anyway, unless you’ve completely changed personalities, you’re gonna get tired of not having anything to keep you busy. Angelica said you taught her how to make a friction fire?”
“Yeah.” Tucker smiled at the memory. “She came by the trailer out of the blue one evening and asked me to teach her. It took us a while, but we eventually got the job done.”
“She enjoyed it. Said you were a patient, excellent teacher.”
“I enjoyed it too. Angelica is a hoot.”
“Well, she mentioned it to Celeste.”
“Boone’s friend?”
“Yes.”
Tucker knew of Celeste Blessing, but he’d never met her. She was the owner of a resort in the Colorado mountain town where Boone now lived. She’d been the person who suggested her own cousin, Angelica, for the innkeeper position after the McBride cousins inherited Enchanted Canyon and decided to remodel the long-abandoned brothel into the Fallen Angel Inn.
Jackson continued, “Anyway, Celeste—”
He broke off abruptly at the sound of an approaching engine. Both men looked toward the road as a Jeep Wrangler made the turn toward the Airstream. Jackson muttered, “Finally.”
“Finally,” Tucker repeated. “You expecting company, cousin?”
“Yep.”
“Let me guess. Our bossy cousin has traveled from Eternity Springs to grace us with his presence.”
“Got it in one. He’s running late, though. He was supposed to be here in time for supper.”
The Jeep stopped next to his own truck, and a familiar figure emerged. Boone McBride strode toward them wearing dress slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt, cuffs rolled up midway on his forearms. He was half an inch taller than Tucker’s own six foot two, something he’d always lorded over him, and older by two months. They shared the same prominent McBride cheekbones and slim, mostly straight nose, each sporting a bump from a break, Tucker’s from their teen years and Boone’s since his move to Eternity Springs. He had dark hair and a shark’s smile, and tonight, his silver-gray eyes glowed with purpose.
Tucker repressed a heavy sigh. Obviously, his cousins were on a mission, and it involved him and his future. A month ago, he’d have reacted by turning around and heading into the woods, not to return until they’d decamped. Tonight, he realized he wouldn’t mind hearing what they had to say.
Progress, I guess. Enchanted Canyon doing the work.
After they all exchanged greetings, Boone turned to Jackson. “Have you told him?”
“Was just getting around to it.”
Tucker asked, “What’s this all about?”
Jackson nodded toward Boone, who said, “It’s an intervention. We get together and gang up on you. The women in Eternity Springs swear by it, so here we are.”
“I’m honored,” Tucker said in an exaggerated drawl.
“You should be. I canceled a date with a long-legged brunette to attend this little soirée.”
Unbidden, an image of Gillian Thacker flashed through Tucker’s mind. “That’s quite the sacrifice. So, this sounds like something I’ll need to endure with a drink. Whiskey, anyone?”
“Definitely.”
“Absolutely.”
Tucker went into the Airstream, and when he emerged a few minutes later carrying three glasses and a bottle of bourbon, he saw that his cousins had set up lawn chairs around the fire pit. Jackson tossed another log onto the fire while Boone talked to River and scratched the contented yellow Lab behind his ears.
Once they all had drinks and had taken a seat, Boone launched the first salvo. “You’re right, Jackson. Mr. Spit-and-Polish has gone to seed. When was the last time you got a haircut? Your mane is almost as long as Ponytail Boy, here.”
Jackson gave his hair a taunting wave toward Boone. “I didn’t say he’d gone to seed. I said he needed a job. His longer hair looks good. Caroline says so.”
“The legal beagle is just jealous of all the jack we’re saving at the barbershop.”
Jackson scoffed. “Boone hasn’t set foot in a barbershop for fifteen years. He goes to”—Jackson lifted his fingers to make air quotes—“the salon at the spa.”
“Hey, if you got a chance to have Penny Watson run her fingers through your hair once a week, you’d go to Angel’s Rest spa yourselves. But I digress. Jackson is right. Tucker, you need a job. You’ve sulked in the canyon long enough.”
“I haven’t been sulking.”
“No? What do you call it?”
Brooding. “Reassessing.”
Jackson snorted, and Boone continued, “Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s time you stopped. We know you better than anyone. If you keep this up much longer, you’re going to wig out on us and do something stupid like join the French Foreign Legion or a knitting club.”
“I would never join the French Foreign Legion, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with knitting clubs.”
“Might be a good way to pick up women,” Jackson added.
Boone ignored them both and pressed on. “Leaving a job is stressful enough, but you left a life, Tucker. It’s natural for you to feel anxious and depressed. Knowing you, you probably feel guilty too.”
Annoyed now, Tucker snapped, “Well, thank you, Dr. Freud.”
“You had good instincts when you made the decision to come here to Enchanted Canyon. You’re in your element here. But, it’s one thing to take a break and heal, and something else entirely when the healing morphs into hiding.”
“I haven’t been hiding,” Tucker protested.
“Bull,” Jackson snapped, his green eyes flashing. “You don’t leave the canyon.”
“I do too. I went to Caroline’s Christmas party just last week. And I went to your place for Thanksgiving.”
“Twice. Big damned deal. You get Angelica to buy your groceries, and everything else you order online and have delivered. You’re becoming a recluse, Tucker.”
Boone tossed a branch on the fire, and as tree sap snapped and crackled and sparks fluttered up into the cold night air, he announced, “You need something to pull you out of your funk. Luckily, we have a plan.”
“You always have a plan,” Tucker groused.
“Not always,” Boone replied in a droll tone. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have ended up in Eternity Springs.”
Tucker momentarily considered attempting to follow the dangling bait by leading the conversation toward Boone’s personal crisis, but he found he was curious about their plan. “Cut to the chase.”
“Okay. We want you to open a survivalist school. Well, more than just a survivalist school. Nothing wrong with preppers, but you need a bigger target market. We think you should teach wilderness skills to adults and children.”
“Seriously?” Tucker almost laughed out loud.
“Seriously,” Jackson replied.
Tucker hid his grin by taking a sip of his drink and savoring the smoky taste of the smooth Kentucky whiskey. To Jackson, he said, “This was your idea?”
“No. Angelica and Celeste cooked it up between themselves.”
Boone leaned forward, an earnest look in his nickel-colored eyes. “I’ve learned that when Celeste speaks, it’s wise to listen. She is a special person with an uncanny way of being around when a person needs help. So, do you want to hear all of our reasons why this is a good move, or can we skip straight to reviewing the business plan? I’ll warn you, I’m determined to talk you into this, so I wouldn’t bother wasting a lot of breath arguing.”
Tucker snorted. One of the perks of this career change of his was that no man alive could make him do something he didn’t want to do—not for long, anyway. However, in this case, arguing wasn’t necessary. He took another sip of his whiskey, then spoke in a casual tone. “Sounds great. I think it might be something I’d enjoy. Want to go inside where we have some light, and you can show me this business plan of yours?”
“Huh.” Jackson scratched his dog behind his ears and met Boone’s gaze. “That was easy.”
“Yeah. Too easy.” Boone narrowed his eyes. “Explain yourself, Tucker.”
He could have done that. Tucker could have told his cousins that the same idea had occurred to him over a week ago, that he had contacts in the industry to whom he had reached out, and that he had the beginnings of a business plan sketched out already. But Boone looked a little worried and worrying him was fun, so Tucker simply shrugged and said, “I’m a reasonable man. Besides, I already tried the knitting club. Not to ruin the surprise or anything, you might find a handmade pair of socks beneath your Christmas trees.”
Boone snorted. “Right.” Still, he looked a little nervous.
“I need another drink,” Jackson said, rising from his lawn chair. “We killed this bottle.”
The three big men all but filled the Airstream. Boone and Jackson claimed seats at the table. Tucker brought a camp chair in from outside in which to sit. He was able to continue his joke by producing part of one of the Christmas gifts he’d ordered for one of the housekeepers at the Fallen Angel. The look on his cousins’ faces when he showed them a knitting basket complete with needles and yarn was priceless.
Tucker bedded down that evening feeling more upbeat than he had since receiving word about his special assignment to DC. As he drifted toward sleep, he decided he might just be ready to come out of the canyon. He’d consider showing up for the McBride family Christmas gathering in Eternity Springs. That’d make his uncle Parker happy. If that went well, he could give Jackson’s New Year’s Eve show at the dance hall a try. He could flirt a little. Look for a woman to kiss at midnight. Maybe a woman who knew how to knit.
For the first time in a long time, Tucker looked forward to the coming year. He fell asleep smiling, his soul easing toward being at peace.