The general, knowing things had been resolved and were now heating up between Vanni and Paul, made himself scarce after dinner, leaving the reconciled lovebirds to the kitchen cleanup alone. But Tom didn’t have the facts and caught them in a serious lip-lock while they were supposed to be washing and drying dishes. Paul had Vanni pressed up against the sink, devouring her with yet another passionate kiss.
To Paul’s back, Tom said, “I guess this means you two have things worked out?”
Paul whispered in Vanni’s ear, “Get rid of him, will you? Please?”
“Go away, Tom,” she said a little breathlessly.
“About time, Paul. Really, I was beginning to think you were a little slow or something. I’m going to Brenda’s.”
“No curfew tonight,” Paul said, though his voice was muffled against Vanni’s neck. “Stay away all night if you want.”
There was the sound of laughter, then the closing of the front door, and Paul’s lips were on Vanni’s again.
“Vanni, honey,” Paul whispered. “Will you pack a bag for yourself and Mattie and come away with me in the morning? Come back to Oregon with me for a few days….”
“Hmm. Good idea.”
“We’ll leave very early,” he said. “Like in an hour…”
She laughed at him. “We’ll leave at nine. I don’t want to rush the baby….” She gave him a little kiss, then wiggled away from him, putting away the last plate. “I have to go give Mattie his bath, then get him settled for the night.”
Paul spent what seemed to be an interminable two and a half hours in front of CNN, unable to concentrate on a word of it. After an hour he got up and fixed himself a drink, asking the general if he could get him anything. But the general declined—probably because he didn’t have what was best described as bridegroom nerves. Paul was asking himself a hundred questions.
He had no idea if he was a good lover. How does a man know? He’d been pretty successful at getting the job done, satisfying the woman he was with before thinking of himself. He couldn’t remember any complaints, but he wasn’t a man who’d been with a lot of women. Not by comparison to some of his friends, for sure. And never with a woman like Vanni. And with Vanni, he didn’t want to merely satisfy her—he wanted to bond her to him forever with the greatest pleasure of her life. He wanted their coming together to be sweet for her. Sweet and powerful. Paul wanted her to know he could be an adequate husband.
He heard the baby crying, then making sweet little noises while he enjoyed his bath. A while later he heard the tub fill again; Vanni was treating herself to a soak.
Would she cry over Matt when they finally made love? Would she remember him, long for him, miss him all over again? And how does a man handle that? Paul asked himself. He wished he’d thought to ask Jack; Jack had married a widow. There must have been special challenges. I’ve held her through a million tears, Paul thought. I can hold her through as many more as it takes.
He took a shower, mostly to distract himself, and when he came out of the bathroom only one light was left on in the great room, probably for Tom. There was a light under the general’s door and the sound of the TV in his room could be heard.
Paul stepped out onto the deck and stood under a cool, dark sky that was riddled with a million stars. The sky was so deep and clear, it was as if one could see into the next universe. He was barefoot and bare chested with his towel slung around his neck. He looked toward Matt’s grave, then toward the sky, holding on to the ends of the towel. I swear, he promised, I’ll do my best, buddy. I’ll do my best by both of them.
He’d give the world to hear Matt snap back some smart-ass response.
Paul went to his room, dug around in his shaving kit, then went to Vanni’s bedroom door. He quietly turned the knob until it opened a crack. “Can I come in?” he whispered.
“What are you doing?” she whispered back, sitting up in her bed and flicking on the lamp. “Are you completely crazy?”
“Suicidal,” he said. He entered her room, softly closing the door behind him. The first thing he did was glance at the baby to make sure he was asleep. “I have to spend more time with you.”
“With my father right down the hall? With me in bed?”
“I don’t care if the whole Army is down the hall. If you won’t come away with me tonight, I just couldn’t stop myself. Are you naked?”
She rolled her eyes and grinned at him. She was wearing a gray T-shirt with ARMY printed on it. Yet on her, it sure looked sexy. And God, that grin—it was everything. It was his world. She was so strong, so sure of herself. He should have known she was ready for him, for them, or she’d have told him she wasn’t, because that was Vanessa. She didn’t play around, didn’t make mistakes with her feelings. She knew where she was headed; she had a will as powerful as the general’s.
He grinned back at her. “You should try to be quiet,” he said. And she giggled. “Vanessa! For once in your life… can you be quiet this once?”
“I don’t know, Paul. What are you going to do to me?”
He smiled and knew his eyes grew hot. “I’m going to get under that Army T-shirt. Unless you ask me not to.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I want you under the T-shirt. But really, this is way more bold than you usually are…”
“I’m turning over a new leaf. No more waiting for an invitation. No more waiting for just the right moment. I need you. God, do I need you.” His mouth covered hers, his hands slipped under the T-shirt, finding her breasts, and he groaned. “Aw, Vanni. Your bottom half is totally naked.”
She grinned against his lips. “Yours isn’t.”
“I’m trying really hard to talk sense into myself,” he whispered against her lips.
“I don’t think he’ll break down the door and shoot you in the back of the head,” she said. “He’s much more direct. And he hates dealing with me when I’m depressed. But you might want to listen for that rifle cock…”
“I tried like hell not to do this,” he said, lifting her T-shirt, his lips finding her nipples. “Turn that light off….”
“Not until you take off your jeans,” she said.
He raised his head. “You’re crazier than I am,” he whispered. “Are you going to be quiet?”
“I’ll try. Really. But if he comes knocking?”
Paul gave her an evil grin. “Anyone who touches that door is really going to have his hands full.” He tossed the towel that had been around his neck over the back of a chair in her room. Before unsnapping his jeans, he pulled some condoms out of his pocket and put them on the night side table. There were several.
She glanced at them and lifted one tawny brow. “That’s very optimistic, Paul,” she said with a smile.
“It’s probably delusional,” he answered, pulling the T-shirt over her head and tossing it away. His breath caught at the sight of her; she was breathtaking. And not the least shy. Then he stood, his hands went to the snap and zipper and he shed his jeans quickly, kicking them away.
Her eyes grew round. “Oh my. Dear God.” He was simply beautiful. A soft mat of brown hair covered his chest, his hips were narrow, legs long, and he was huge. Huge and erect.
He sat down on the bed and his expression took on an earnest look. “Are you all right since the baby? Are you worried about having sex?”
Her eyes were glued to his male parts. “I’m a little more worried about being quiet,” she said thoughtfully.
Paul turned off the light, claimed her lips and slipped down into the bed with her. His hands were all over her, caressing her back, her breasts, her firm, round bottom, her lush hips. And her hands were on him immediately, examining every part of him with her fingers and palms, stroking, rubbing. “I want you,” he whispered. “I want you so bad.” And his fingers slipped down to that damp place where her legs were joined. “Open for me, baby.” He didn’t have to ask twice; her legs came apart. He slipped a finger through her silky, slick softness and inside. He whispered against her parted lips, “Oh man, that didn’t take long….”
“Look who’s talking,” she whispered back. “You came out of your jeans ready.”
“Vanni, I’ve been ready for hours. I tried a shower, a walk outside, a drink…”
She reached over to the bedside table for a condom, began taking it out of the foil, but she didn’t quite get the job done. His fingers on her, in her, his mouth on her neck and breast, it was almost more than she could take. She began to tremble and grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away. “Stop,” she whispered. “I’m already too close. Wait.”
“No,” he whispered back. “No waiting. Let go,” he told her. “It’s okay. Come for me. Hard and fast.” And he kept touching her, stroking her, moving against her while he kissed her.
She spiraled up and over the top instantly, climaxing before she could even help with the condom. It was crunched in her clenched fist and she made a rather loud, growling moan and Paul covered her mouth as fast as he could, trying to muffle the sound under his lips, but he didn’t let her fall alone—he carried on with his rough caresses, taking her beyond pleasure. He continued until the storm was past and she collapsed, breathless beneath him, soft in his arms. The only fear he’d had was that for some reason he wouldn’t be able to do it for her—but he hadn’t even gotten started and she was gone. Off like a rocket. It thrilled him.
“Aw, baby,” he said. “That was special. You do that very well.”
“Whew,” she answered, weak. “I meant to wait for you….”
He took the package out of her hand and applied the condom. “I should have known. You’re a fireball. Let’s have some more of that, huh? Let me in, baby. We’re not done.”
With a passionate sigh, she lifted her knees and he worked his way inside, slowly, easily, until she took all of him. “Paul,” she whispered, clutching him. “Paul…”
He rose above her and began to move, slowly, evenly, deeply. He had to cover her mouth with his because the sounds she made would give them away. He grinned down at her. “You’re a screamer, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He moved some more and his voice was hoarse, strained. “Do it again, Vanni. Give it up.” Then he covered her mouth again and pumped and she went out of her mind, over the moon, beyond the stars—and an explosion of pulsing pleasure that left her totally limp and completely spent. “That’s my girl. You are very good at that…. I am the luckiest man alive.”
“Paul,” she whispered weakly. “I can’t keep doing that without you. What are you waiting for?”
He pecked at her lips and she could feel his smile, she could feel his teeth. “Just once more, sweetheart, come on. It’s so good.”
“I can’t,” she said, exhausted. “I just can’t.”
“We’ll see….” He slipped down, kissing and licking his way down past her breast, over her tummy and, pulling her thighs apart, gave her a few hearty strokes with his tongue, right in her center. She threw her head back and moaned loudly. Paul’s hand came up to cover her mouth firmly, which only made her squirm more wildly. He didn’t torture her long. He rose, entered her again and shifted his hips slightly, creating a perfect friction. In the darkness of the room, he could see her eyes were wide, her lips apart slightly as she gasped in anticipation. “One more,” he whispered. “One more, for us.” She arched her pelvis against him, digging her heels into the mattress, and again he had to cover her gasping mouth to quiet her. “I love you, baby,” he whispered against her parted lips. “I love you so much.” And then she exploded, drowning him in pulsing heat.
Paul was done holding back. He’d never had a feeling like this before. He let it go with a powerful blast and believed in his heart he was making Vanessa his till the end of time—his woman, the head of his family, the love of his life. And he was hers. He released himself at her exact moment and emptied himself into her, giving her his heart, his life, his soul.
And then he held her, soft against him, stroking her hair and pressing soft kisses into her temple. “I’ve never had an experience like that in my life,” he whispered. “You’re an amazing woman. I think I might be the luckiest man in the world, to have this with you.”
“Shew,” she whispered, letting out her breath. “I think you’re catching on….”
She was answered by a deep, low chuckle. “You make it so easy.”
“Come on, Paul,” she said, laughing softly. “Don’t pretend you don’t know—you’re an incredible lover. And I know there have been women…”
“Not very many,” he said. “There are things about this that are brand-new.” He rose up on an elbow and looked down at her. “It’s the first time I’ve ever made love with someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, someone I want to be my partner, my best friend, my lover until the end. The mother of our children. It’s what’s been missing from my life.”
She was quiet for a long moment; her eyes might’ve glistened. “That’s very sweet.”
“It’s very true.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, chin, lips. “Should I get out of here?”
“No. Stay with me,” she whispered. “Please…”
“Okay, baby. As long as you want me here,” he whispered back.
“Forever,” she said. “Is forever too long?”
He kissed her cheek and pulled her against him. “Might not be long enough… Give me a second in the bathroom. I’ll be back.”
He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. He was lucky; no traffic in the hall. He made it a quick, quiet trip and was back in bed beside Vanessa, pulling her close. Paul lay awake for a long time, just listening to her breathe, drinking in her scent. Holding her like this, naked against him, it was like a miracle. You don’t just go to sleep on miracles. You savor them, give thanks for them.
It wasn’t until Paul looked out Vanni’s bedroom window at dawn and caught sight of the general trudging down to the stable to feed the horses that he finally made the short journey back to his own bedroom.
* * *
Vanessa was in the kitchen in the morning with a cup of coffee, Mattie in his bouncy chair on the table beside her, when Walt came back from the stable. “Good morning, Daddy,” she said brightly. She looked at her watch. “You must have had a very early start.”
“About the regular time,” he said, going for a mug of coffee. “I’m going to miss the hell out of Tom. I’m just starting to realize what it must have been like for him, up so early, getting all that stable work out of the way before school.” He took a sip. “I’m going to miss more than that, of course.”
“But you wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said. “We’re all so proud of Tom. He’s going to do well.”
“That’s the hard part—sending him off like this, knowing it’s the best thing, even while it feels like the worst thing. And I’m losing you, too,” he said.
Vanessa had no trouble imagining how the general could look scary as hell to his troops. But this morning, at the kitchen table with just his daughter and grandson, he was soft as a puppy. She reached across the table and patted his hand. He played with the baby’s foot with his other. “You’re not losing me, Daddy. Not ever.”
“It’s okay, Vanni. You’re a young woman in your prime. Paul’s a fine young man, despite the fact that he’s fathering the nation…”
“Daddy…”
“Nah, he’s a good man. His incident aside.”
She leaned toward him. “You’re not losing me,” she said again. “But I packed a bag this morning. I’m going home with him, Dad. Just for a few days. We’ll be back before the weekend.”
“That doesn’t surprise me a bit. I’m surprised you didn’t take off in the dark of night.”
Then she asked softly, “Did I disturb your sleep last night?”
He shook his head. “I suppose we’re an odd family,” he said. “Not quite the stiff and upright family I had always thought we were, but the facts of our lives have changed all that. Relaxed our expectations… At least mine.” He looked down. “I heard you, yes. It wasn’t too disturbing. In fact, those are happy sounds.” He lifted his eyes. “There were other nights I heard you—and your brother. Nights of crying over loved ones lost. Your mother. Your husband. And I don’t doubt there were nights young Tom, at only fourteen, wondered what to do about a tough old three-star crying in his bed over his wife’s death.”
“Oh, Daddy…”
“Vanni—life is rough. It can’t help but be, especially for military families like ours. But we have to soldier on, be strong, do the best we can. If you tell me you’re happy with Paul…”
“Oh, Dad, I love him so much. I loved him before I fell in love with him, if that makes sense. He loves me. And—he loves you.”
“Any man who would do all he did after his best friend’s death—this is a man who deserves my respect.”
“Thank you, Daddy. We still have plenty of time before Tom’s graduation and his exit to basic training, even if I spend a little time in Grants Pass.” She laughed. “Tom may have trouble fitting us in, anyway—I know Brenda is on high priority right now.”
“Leaving is hard for him, too. But he’ll be swept up in it in no time. There’s something about being with those boys, competing, trying to prove yourself. He won’t have time to miss anyone.” He laughed a little. “The girl. He’ll miss the girl. He’s not a eunuch, after all.”
She smiled but didn’t say anything. Her father—he’d looked at so many young faces over his career—his read was solid.
“Paul’s hoping to do some building here. We’ll live down here as much as work provides.”
Walt’s eyes widened. “Did you insist on that?”
“No,” she said. “He loves this place. He has good friends here. He loves coming to meet the boys. He’d like to build us a house here.”
“Vanni,” he said, touched. “That would be wonderful. I can let you go if it’s what you want but, selfishly, I’d be so happy to have you nearby.”
“He’ll have details to work out. And there’s that other matter—”
Before she could continue, Paul walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, sir,” he said, heading to the coffeepot.
Walt stood. “Vanni tells me you’re considering working here.”
“Yes, sir. But don’t get ahead of me—I have to talk to the family. When we get up to Oregon for a few days, Vanni can do some grandparent time with Carol and Lance, meet my family, and I can run this proposition by my dad and brothers. I hope you’re okay about me taking Vanni home with me for a few days. We’ll be back before the weekend.”
“Good. That’s good.” Walt stuck out his hand to Paul. “You should go away together for a while,” he said. “So I can get some sleep.” And then he walked out of the kitchen.
* * *
Paul could feel subtle changes in himself after just twenty-four hours. A confrontation with Vanessa followed by one night in her arms had taught him a few things about her. And himself. She was a strong woman—she needed a man of equal or greater strength. One who was sturdy, determined, not someone who would defer or shy away. She liked power, and she didn’t crave it for herself, but rather wanted to align herself with it; she was a formidable partner and required a man who wasn’t the least bit nervous about that. If Vanessa felt overpowered, she wouldn’t cower, she’d fight. But if she felt considerably stronger than her man, she’d fight even harder. She could only team up with confidence, passion and conviction. All that brought out the best in him—his self-assurance and competence. She was raised by a general—she appreciated brawn and nerve. Courage.
She liked his gentle side, but only in contrast. She’d been forced to shoulder so much pain and loss and had had to be tough; she couldn’t partner with a man who would take her strength for granted; she needed a man she could lean on sometimes. She had a temper; she was feisty and bossy, sometimes difficult. But she was fair and just with a love that was deep and enduring. She had both a growl and a purr; Paul was committed to bringing out and adoring both.
She was perfect for him. And he realized with some surprise that he was her match. It was an incomparable feeling. The pride it fed in him honed his strength, deepened his love.
While Paul drove them to his home, to Oregon, with the baby tucked into his car seat in the back of the extended cab truck, Vanni slept as much as Mattie did. The trepidation that had kept him from speaking up earlier, that had once kept him from approaching her from across a crowded bar and sitting down beside her a few years ago, was gone. He was possessive, sure of himself, serene. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, constantly reaching for her, touching her knee, circling her shoulders with his arm. He’d been inside her body, made her tremble with pleasure and beg for more, branded her, made her his. She didn’t scare him anymore.
When they were nearly to Grants Pass, Vanni asked when they should see Paul’s family or the Rutledges. “We’re not even going to call them until tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “We’ll stop off at the grocery, get what we need and have a night alone, just the three of us. Monday is soon enough to get in touch with them.” When Vanni started making noises of cooking him an elaborate dinner to show off some of her skills, he stopped her. “We’re not spending all our time in the kitchen tonight. There’s plenty of time for that,” he said. Into the cart went diapers, formula for the baby, cereal, eggs, milk, sandwich and salad makings and an already-roasted chicken and vegetables.
Vanessa had seen some of Paul’s work before—Mel and Jack’s house, which was Joe’s design and Paul’s construction expertise. But he showed her his house in Grants Pass with pride. It was a masterpiece. Large oak double doors led into a spacious foyer with white marble floors. There were a few steps down into a sunken great room with thick, light beige carpet and a large fireplace of beautiful slate. A long row of windows with French panes looked out onto a manicured lawn, and the ceilings were high and beamed. There were two bedrooms, spacious, and throughout the house were stunning built-in bookcases and cabinets and even a gorgeous built-in breakfront in the dining room, so large it took up most of one wall. Off the kitchen and dining room was a long deck with a barbecue and redwood furniture. Paul had done most of the interior work himself—he had a complete workshop in the third bay of his three-car garage; he was a master carpenter. The kitchen was a showplace—hardwood floors, white granite countertops flecked with gold, cupboards with glass doors. And it was immaculate to the point of being sterile.
“This is magnificent,” she said in a breath. “I would give anything for such a house,” she said.
“I’ll build you whatever you want,” he said.
Paul set up the baby’s port-a-crib in the second bedroom while Vanni nursed him in the great room. He made a tray of snacks, poured Vanni a glass of wine and himself a beer. Then there was a little playtime before Mattie started to yawn. Paul took the baby to his bed to put him down for a nap and when he got back, he found Vanni in the kitchen, rinsing off their dishes.
He wanted to tell her things about how his life had changed in a day, but the words eluded him. It would be nice to explain that he’d been with women before, but never like this. He’d had sex. Good sex. In fact, the worst sex he’d ever had was pretty damn good. But no woman before her had taken him in with the kind of intimacy and intensity that Vanni had; he was sure he’d never been able to draw the kind of response from anyone that Vanessa had given back to him. The second his lips touched her neck or his hand glided over her soft body, she was in motion. Hotter than fire. The passion she unleashed was unbelievable. Unimaginable. The way her hips moved against him, it made him weak to even think about it. It gave him a kind of power and mastery he didn’t know he had. When she was in his arms he became the world’s greatest lover. There was nothing in the universe that could stroke a man’s pride more than lighting up a woman with such ease; to bring her complete, exhausting satisfaction like that, over and over. She was amazing and he felt as if his heart would explode. And clearly, the most remarkable and wondrous part was that she left him without a shred of doubt—she was his. Completely his.
But instead of trying to explain how she made him feel, he came up behind her, put his arms around her and kissed her neck. He shut off the running water and turned her around. He lifted her into his arms and whispered against her parted lips, “I can’t believe I can take you to my bed and love every piece of you.”
She trembled and answered, “I can’t believe you’re not getting me there faster.”
And then it began again…
* * *
Muriel St. Claire figured Sunday afternoon was a good time to check out the town of Virgin River. Everything was very quiet and she knew she could poke around without creating a huge stir. The house she’d recently bought was just outside of town and she’d never had time to do more than drive down the main street. The place was small and compact with what looked to be one very low-key restaurant and no other businesses on the main street.
The Open sign was on in the window of the restaurant, so she parked her truck and went inside. Muriel looked around appreciatively. This was a perfect little country bar and grill—everything polished to a high sheen, embers glittering in the hearth, two little old ladies sharing a table near the fire, fishing and hunting trophies on the walls. Behind the bar was a good-looking, grinning bartender polishing glasses.
She felt a little overdressed in her tailored pants, ostrich boots and fitted leather blazer over a cream-colored silk blouse. But, no worries, she’d know for next time.
The elderly women immediately started to whisper and twitter, glancing at her, then whispering some more. Well, that was quick; they might be senior citizens but they knew who she was. The bartender tilted his head and gave her a welcoming smile.
She walked up to the bar. “Nice little place,” she said.
“Thanks. We’re kind of proud of it. What can I get you?”
“How about a cola? Diet.”
“You got it.” He fixed her up with a drink and asked, “Passing through?”
“No, actually. I just moved here. Well—” she laughed “—I was born not far from here and always intended to come back.”
“You look kind of familiar,” Jack said. He shook his head. “I had a little déjà vu. You kind of reminded me of my wife for a second there. First time she walked in this place, I figured she was lost. Classy blonde in my bar? Couldn’t be happening.”
“I guess you did the right thing and married her.”
“What was I gonna do?” Jack asked with a laugh. He put out his hand. “Jack Sheridan.”
“Muriel,” she said, accepting the hand.
“You been around lately?” he asked.
“Not lately, no. I used to visit when my folks were still alive. But over the past few years I’ve just been up here on very quick trips to look at property. I’ve never been in this bar before.”
“I take it something worked out in terms of property?”
“A ranch. Out on Silverton Road.”
Jack frowned. “The old Weatherby place? He didn’t die, did he?”
“No,” Muriel said. “Finally decided to give it up and go live near the kids.”
“I didn’t know it was even available,” Jack observed.
“I don’t think it was. I’ve been working with a Realtor for a few years now, looking for property. I think she went visiting, telling people she might have a buyer if it was the right place. And this was the right place. Did you know him?”
“Nah,” Jack said, giving the counter a wipe. “He was an old-timer when I got here a few years ago. He’d already sold off most of his stock, kept a couple of horses, couple of dogs and a nice garden. He was already retired. I met him a couple of times in the bar. Had a slew of kids and none of ’em stayed around.” He laughed. “You know—you make it your life’s dream to get your kids a big education and, in the end, no one wants the ranch.” He glanced at the tittering women. “Madge and Beatrice,” he explained. “They are all stirred up. Newcomers rate some attention around here.”
“I suppose that’s the case,” she said.
“Doesn’t that Weatherby place need some work?” he asked.
“Some serious restoration,” she said, sipping her soda. “But it’s solid, has a good barn and corral, and there’s a guesthouse. What was Weatherby doing with a guesthouse?”
“As I understand it, his late wife used to like to paint, so she built herself a studio. After she died, a long while back, he turned it into a little apartment he could rent out to ranch hands or loggers. Sort of a bunkhouse.”
“Oh, that explains it,” she said.
“Explains what, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“It’s a good little room with a lot of windows. But it was filthy. Like it was rented to men and not cleaned in between.” She sipped her cola. “The Realtor got a crew to clean it up real nice. I gave it a coat of paint, decorated it in a small way, bought a big area rug and can live in it while I work on the bigger house.”
“You looking for a contractor?” he asked.
“Not yet. I’m sure I’ll need some help, but I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time and I want to do most of the work myself. I mean, I’m not crazy—I’ll need help if I ever have to wire, plumb, lay flooring or put on a roof. But I’m hell with a paintbrush. And, believe it or not, I’ve mastered seamless wallpaper.”
“What about cabinets, countertops, tile, wallboard, et cetera?”
“I’m very handy. I plan to restore it, not upgrade it. It’s got a lot of spirit. Some women do needlepoint, some sand and varnish.”
That got a big laugh out of Jack. Right at that moment, Mel came in with David on her hip and her big belly preceding her through the door. He lifted his chin in greeting, but before Mel could make it to the bar, she was summoned over to Madge and Beatrice, who leaned their heads together and spoke intently, glancing at Jack and the woman, eyes round.
Muriel glanced at the woman and baby; no doubt about it, that would be the classy blonde who married Jack. She smiled.
Mel passed the baby over the bar to her husband, gave him a little kiss and then grinned at Muriel. She put out her hand. “Muriel St. Claire,” she said. “Hi. I’m Mel Sheridan. How exciting.”
Muriel took her hand. “How do you do. I guess you know this guy.”
“Know him real well, actually.” Mel laughed. “You have those women over there in a fluster. They can’t believe it’s really you.”
“Oh, it’s really me. I just moved here.”
“Summer place?” Mel asked.
Muriel shook her head. “Retirement place. Permanent.”
“Really?” Mel asked, lifting a brow. “An early retirement?”
“Hardly.” Muriel laughed. “I’m so ready for a change of pace. Jesus, I’ve been making movies for forty years!”
“Okay, wait a second here,” Jack said. “I’m totally lost.”
“Of course you are, Jack. Muriel St. Claire is an actress, very famous, and has been since she was about…”
“Fifteen,” Muriel supplied.
Jack did the math. “You’re fifty-five?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Wow.”
“Good maintenance,” she said, brushing off the compliment. “I’m fifty-six and sick of acting. Well, not acting so much as the lifestyle that goes with it. I’ve been shopping for a ranch for a few years now. My parents lived in these mountains many, many years ago. I have a couple of horses and can’t wait for delivery on a couple of dogs. I have a chocolate Lab being trained in Kentucky—she’s a beauty. And a Lab puppy coming in a couple of weeks. Both hunters, I hope.”
“You hunt?” Mel asked, trying to keep the shock from her voice.
“You hunt?” Jack asked, grinning.
“Waterfowl. Duck and geese.”
“Jack shoots deer.”
“I could try that,” she said. “But you can’t use dogs for that and I love working the dogs. I’ve always had a dog.” She squinted at Mel. “You look familiar.”
“We met once. I don’t expect you would remember me—first of all it was years ago. But I lived in L.A. before moving up here and we went to the same day spa for a while. I saw you there a couple of times. I think we might’ve had the same aesthetician.” Jack was frowning in total confusion again. “Facials,” she told him.
“Fantastic,” Muriel said. “Who do you use around here?”
“Well, there are some decent beauty shops in Fortuna and Eureka, but probably not what you’re used to. Nothing here in Virgin River.” Mel glanced at Muriel’s perfect nails. “You’re going to go a long way for a good mani-cure.”
Muriel followed her eyes. “I can kiss these goodbye. I’m going to be busy redecorating.”
“Really? You’re planning to do some of it yourself?”
“Most of it,” she said rather proudly, lifting her chin. “What brought you up here?”
“Ah, long story. I was looking for a change. I was a nurse-practitioner and midwife in L.A. and took a job here—population just over six hundred. It was supposed to be for a year, but Jack got me knocked up.”
“We are married,” he said, shaking his head at her. “Tell the woman you’re happy about that, Melinda.”
“Perfectly happy. Jack worked out.” She grinned.
“Muriel has the ranch just across the pasture from the Booth place. About six miles by car, or a mile and a half down the river on a horse.”
“Oh, fantastic. You’re going to love that family,” Mel said. “Walt’s a retired general with a couple of grown kids and a new grandson. Great people. In fact, Virgin River is a whole town of really nice people. I’ll look forward to introducing you around.”
“That’s real nice of you.”
“Mind you,” Mel continued, “once Madge and Beatrice over there get on the phone, formal introductions won’t be necessary. Maybe we should put them out of their misery. Would you like to go over and say hi before they go into shock?”
“Lovely,” Muriel said.
“Ah, wait a second,” Jack said. “Are we going to have a lot of those reporters and photographers around here?”
“Paparazzi?” Muriel asked. “I highly doubt it. I’m old news. The wild, half-dressed young girls are keeping them very busy these days.” And then she flashed him a dazzling smile.
* * *
With Tom at Brenda’s, and Vanni gone to Grants Pass with Paul for a few days, Walt faced two choices for dinner—throw a piece of meat on the grill, or get something at Jack’s. He got in the car.
There were about ten people in the bar when Walt arrived, all of them sitting at tables except Doc, who was up at the bar. Walt joined him there, leaving one stool to separate them. Doc and Walt merely nodded at each other; Doc wasn’t usually given to deep conversation. Jack grinned at Walt and slapped down a napkin. “Well, now. What can I do for you, sir?”
Walt peered at the empty baby pack Jack was wearing. “Lose a rider, son?”
“David’s off being ‘refreshed,’” Jack said with a laugh.
“How about a beer while you tell me what Preacher’s got cooking tonight?”
Jack drew the draft and put it in front of him. “Sunday special—pot roast. I don’t know what the man uses for seasoning, but it’s so damn good. And the gravy’s almost like tar, it’s so dark. He cooked it with vegetables but he’s serving whipped potatoes on the side. They’re like silk.”
“Perfect,” Walt said, lifting his beer.
“You want takeout for the family?”
“Just me tonight. Vanni’s gone up to Oregon with Paul for a few days, and I don’t rate much time with Tom while he’s on Brenda’s dance card.”
“Oregon?” Jack said with a lift of his brow. “You don’t say? What do you suppose they’ll find to do in Oregon?”
Walt smiled at him. “Funny.”
Jack chuckled. “Sounds like maybe some things got sorted out. This mean we won’t be seeing too much of that nice Dr. Michaels around here?”
“I think maybe that nice Dr. Michaels hanging around lit a fire under Paul,” Walt said. “Good man, Haggerty. If a little slow.”
Jack laughed. “Don’t go too hard on him, General. I think Vanessa scared him to death. She’s awful pretty. Wicked smart, too.”
Walt appreciated the compliment and smiled. “Hell, sometimes she scares me.”
“I’ll go give Preach your order. Be right back.”
Walt had enjoyed about half his brew when Mel came from the back and took the stool beside him. “Hey, there,” she said brightly. “Jack said you were here.”
“How you feeling, girl?”
“Ready to pop. But I’m hanging in there.” Jack came out with the carrier full of baby again, holding two steaming plates. He put them in front of Walt and Mel. “Mind if I join you for dinner?” Mel asked.
“I’d welcome it. Jack’s not eating dinner?”
“I’ve been helping Preacher all afternoon make sure it’s just right. I’ve probably had three dinners already,” Jack said. “You just missed your new neighbor by about an hour.”
“Oh?” Walt said, digging in. “Who might that be?”
Mel leaned an elbow on the bar. “Does the name Muriel St. Claire mean anything to you?”
“Can’t say that it does,” he said. He took a mouthful. “By damn, that Preacher,” he said, savoring the seasoned, tender beef. “He’s got the gift.”
“She’s an actress, Walt,” Mel explained. “Quite famous, actually. I’ve seen a lot of her films.”
Walt hummed in response, more interested in his food. Finally he said, “What’s she doing around here?”
“She says she came from these mountains and decided to return, retire here.”
“Just what we need,” Walt said. “Another little old lady. Is she rich at least?”
“She looked pretty rich to me,” Jack said. “And not exactly old.”
“Rich, retired movie star? What’s she going to do with a ranch? Raise exotic chickens?”
Mel laughed. “You might be in for some surprises. She moved into that old Weatherby place on the other side of your pasture. You should bake her a cake or something. Go say hello. I told her you Booths were nice people.”
“I’ll put Vanni right on it when she gets back to town,” Walt said.
Mel perked right up. “Vanni’s out of town?”
“Gone to Grants Pass for a few days with Paul,” Walt said, hardly missing a mouthful. “They’ll be back by the weekend.”
“Well, how about that,” Mel said, smiling. “Were you expecting that?”
Walt dabbed his lips with his napkin. “Girl, the finger’s been on that trigger for months. The only thing I didn’t expect was how long it would take Haggerty to pull it.”
* * *
When Walt got home, the house was dismally quiet. He turned on the TV for some noise and picked up a book for something to do. He wished Tom would show up with Brenda and take over the TV for a movie or something, but they probably wouldn’t. If they could escape Brenda’s house, they’d be buried in the woods, parking. He’d like to hear the baby fuss, or Vanni cooing to him. Paul would make decent company right about now—he could do that running commentary they had in response to CNN stories.
Out of sheer boredom, he went to the computer. He started a search of Muriel St. Claire, his new neighbor. He found several Web sites plus a Wikipedia listing. Fifty-six years old, born in Brother Creek, California. He looked it up—Trinity County, right near the Humboldt line. There was a list of movies—Jesus, almost fifty of them, not to mention television credits. When he saw a photo he recognized her, but only because she’d recently been on Law and Order and CSI. He’d never in a million years have known her name. He ran through a series of publicity photos—none in the recent past. Blond, sleek, large blue eyes. Too thin, he decided, although she could certainly hold up a strapless black dress. She always appeared to be glancing over her bare shoulder at the camera, or leaning into it with those sultry movie-star eyes. There was even a shot of her in bed, the only visible fabric being a satin sheet. And pictures of her taken at Academy Awards and the Cannes Film Festival—lotsa big jewelry.
His wife had never much liked big jewelry.
It was all Hollywood stuff, dedicated to the superficial. She’d obviously be more at home in a marble mansion with a pool. What the hell was she doing with that old Weatherby ranch house? That wouldn’t last long.
“Exotic chickens, my ass,” Walt muttered to himself as he shut down the computer and headed for bed.