All Summer Long
Page 15
“What does it do?” she asked.
“Clears land. It’ll dig up anything in its path. From what I heard, they’re going to start farming some of the land. This’ll get ’em ready in no time.” The delivery guy grinned. “As soon as they stop fighting about who gets their turn first.”
“Someone’s going to teach them how, right?”
“That’s his job.” He motioned to the man shouting.
Charlie shook her head. “I guess an instruction manual is out of the question.”
The delivery guy chuckled. “You got that right.”
He headed back to his truck. Charlie watched Shane and Clay finally settle in the driver’s seat and the one next to it. Clay was behind the wheel. The men shouted back and forth. She caught a word here and there, but knew this was something she couldn’t understand. She drove her engine because it was her job. She enjoyed it but more for what it could do for the people in her town than because it was big and powerful.
Clay was such a guy, she thought indulgently as she walked back to the barn. A good guy who was taking extraordinary care of her. After their first session together, she was optimistic about her chances of getting to normal. Once that was accomplished, they could both get back to their lives. He would become a volunteer firefighter and start his Haycations, while she would figure out the best way to bring children into her world.
She hoped they would always stay friends. In a town like Fool’s Gold, they would run into each other often. He was going above and beyond with her and she wanted to make sure things were never awkward. Something to remember, she told herself as she went to collect her horse.
She smiled as she thought about how worried she’d been about seeing him. At least now she could enjoy her ride in peace. After all, she was merely a woman. There was no way she could compete against man nirvana—otherwise known as very big farm equipment.
* * *
CLAY MOVED THE résumés in front of him, switching which one was on the left, then discarding a couple. Two remained and he still didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
He got up from the small desk in his bedroom at the ranch house and walked downstairs. Coffee wouldn’t make the decision any easier, but getting a cup was a distraction.
He went into the kitchen and found Dante Jefferson standing by the window, staring out at the view. Dante was Rafe’s business partner. A lawyer by trade and temperament, he hadn’t been happy when Rafe had wanted to move the business from San Francisco to Fool’s Gold.
Rafe had taken off on his delayed honeymoon about a week ago. Dante had driven in to take care of things in town while Rafe was gone.
“Settling in all right?” Clay asked as he collected a mug and moved to the always-full carafe.
“I brought one suitcase,” Dante told him. “Unpacking didn’t take long.”
“What about the rest of your stuff?”
“I’m waiting.”
“Refusing to pack in protest?”
Dante grinned. “Something like that.” He looked out the window. “I miss the bay.”
“It’s warmer here than in San Francisco.”
“It’s warmer in hell, too. Doesn’t mean I want to be there.”
“You could have told Rafe you wouldn’t agree to move the business.”
Dante nodded. “I know, but he was so damned happy. All in love and beaming. It was disconcerting.”
“Admitting to a moment of actual emotion?”
Dante turned and glared at him. “No. I’m a cold sonofabitch and don’t you forget it.”
Dante was about Clay’s height, with blond hair and dark blue eyes. He wore suits instead of jeans. Even now he had on a tie. Clay suspected it wouldn’t be long until the town worked its magic and Dante fit in just like everyone else.
Clay poured his coffee, then turned back to Dante. “I have a business question.”
“Need me to fly somewhere and file a brief? Because I’m happy to do it. New York? New York would be perfect.”
Clay grinned. “Sorry, no.” He thought about the résumés on his desk. “Rafe tell you about my Haycations idea?”
Dante nodded. “I did some research. There’s a growing market for that kind of travel. Families like the chance to reconnect with each other and a simpler time. They can drive instead of fly to get here, which people like. What’s the problem?”
“I need to hire a farm manager. I have plenty of theoretical learning, but not much in the way of practical experience. Based on that, I decided to get someone in for the first couple of years.”
“Smart,” Dante told him. “Hands-on education is best for a business like this.”
Clay nodded, then drew in a breath. “I can’t decide on the guy. I’m used to hiring a business manager or an accountant. This is different. I’ve narrowed it down to two guys.”
“What are they like?”
“Nate is close to forty, experienced. He’s worked on plenty of farms, has even helped one guy in Washington State start a vineyard. He knows how to get me where I want to go.”
“And the other guy?”
“Ty is younger and less experienced.” Clay hesitated. “I like Ty better. He seems more easygoing. But he’s never done what I want to do and while he grew up on a farm, he has a lot less experience on his own.”
“What does your gut say?”
“Ty,” Clay admitted. “But my gut could be wrong. Nate makes the most sense. I don’t know why I’m hesitating. He has good references. I checked them all and he gets positive reports from his previous employers.”
The decision was important and Clay didn’t want to make a mistake. He had something to prove. Ironically it wasn’t to his brothers or even the town. This time he had something to prove to himself.
Dante shrugged. “You’re going to have to pick one. If you make the wrong decision, you go back and correct it.”
“Is that what you do?”
Dante chuckled. “I don’t make mistakes. Didn’t Rafe tell you?”
“No. He forgot to mention that.”
“Sounds like him. Hogging all the glory.” Dante walked over and patted Clay on the shoulder. “Trust your instincts. They’re usually right.”
He walked out of the kitchen. Clay watched him go, then stared out the window. The guys he’d hired to clear the land would be done by the first part of next week. He needed to make a decision by then.
He went back upstairs and stared at the résumés. Even though his gut said to go with Ty, he knew he needed the experience Nate had to offer. He picked up his cell, then dialed Nate’s number.
* * *
DOMINIQUE STEPPED OUT of her car onto a very dusty driveway. She glanced down at her pale gray suede pumps and wondered if they would ever be the same.
“Beauty is a disposable asset,” she murmured as she closed the car door and looked around.
She’d never been on a ranch before and hadn’t known what to expect. There were horses in pens. She couldn’t see any cows, which was good. She wasn’t one who enjoyed the presence of cows. Up on the hill was a large open area with a—
She blinked, then stared. An elephant?
“Dominique?”
She turned and saw May Stryker standing on the porch of the house.
“Is that an elephant?” she asked, pointing.
“Yes. Priscilla. We also have sheep and llamas. I threatened my sons with a zebra a few months back, but I was only kidding. How nice to see you. Why don’t you come inside?”
Dominique gave the elephant one more backward glance before following the other woman into the house.
Yesterday, not knowing what else to do, she’d phoned May Stryker and asked if they could meet. She had no idea what to do about Chantal. Perhaps a woman with several children would have some suggestions.
May led her into a shabby living room. The furniture should have been replaced years ago and the walls were in need of fresh paint. Still, the room was a happy place. There were family pictures everywhere, and fresh flowers. Dominique always loved fresh-cut flowers.
“I made us tea,” May said, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and motioning to the old-fashioned silver tray she’d placed on the coffee table. “It seemed more an afternoon beverage than coffee.”
“Thank you,” Dominique said, taking the delicate cup and saucer May offered. She saw there were sliced lemon wedges, a small pitcher of milk, along with sugar in a bowl. Elegant, she thought, relaxing a little.
May was probably her age, Dominique thought. Perhaps a little younger. Pretty enough, with dark hair and bright, intelligent eyes. She obviously hadn’t tried to hold back time with injections or surgery. Dominique found that confusing, but perhaps ordinary people didn’t have the same pressure to be perfect. What would it feel like to not worry about her appearance? To simply not care about every new line, every added pound? She couldn’t imagine.
“How are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?” May asked.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t spent much time in small towns. The festival last weekend was interesting. I was surprised so many tourists came.” She sipped her tea, not sure what else to say. She desperately wanted to talk about her daughter, but didn’t know how to start.
A tall, handsome man walked into the room.
“Hey, Mom,” he said as he crossed to May. “I’m heading over to Annabelle’s.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Don’t expect me before morning.”
“I won’t.” May nodded at Dominique. “Shane, this is Charlie’s mother.”
Shane glanced at her, then smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dixon.”
“You, as well,” Dominique said, startled by the name. No one had called her Mrs. Dixon in years. Not since Dan had passed. She had always been Dominique Guérin, the celebrated. Not Dominique Dixon, Dan’s wife.
Shane murmured something in his mother’s ear, then left. May watched him go. “He’s engaged. My oldest, Rafe, was married a few weeks ago. Coming back to Fool’s Gold has been so happy for all of us.”
Dominique pressed her lips together, trying to hold in the words. But they had a life of their own and came out in a rush.
“Chantal hates me. She won’t have anything to do with me. I’ve been to her house several times, but she doesn’t answer the door. I tried to see her at the fire station, but there was an alarm and she left. I don’t know what to do.”
She stared at her tea, aware her eyes had that burning feeling again. Tears. She never gave in to tears. She’d danced with injuries that would have brought a linebacker to his knees and she’d never once let anyone suspect the pain. Why on earth would she cry now?
“How long have the two of you been estranged?” May asked quietly.
Estranged. What an odd word. “You’re suggesting we were once close and something happened,” Dominique said. “That’s not true. We’ve never been close.” She poured milk into her tea and stirred.
“Why not?”
“Many reasons. My work kept me traveling much of the time. I’m sure from the outside, the fame seems wonderful, but it’s difficult. Draining. When I was home, I had rehearsals, press. And my husband. I wanted to spend every moment I could with Dan.”
“Not your daughter?”
Dominique remembered what it had been like. “She had Dan. Chantal and her father were close.” Too close, in Dominique’s opinion. That man had worshipped his little girl. Sometimes she had wondered if he’d loved Chantal more than he’d loved her.
“That must have been a comfort to you,” May said. “Knowing he was there to take care of your little girl.”
“I was the star,” Dominique snapped. “I’m the one who was important. But it was always Charlie this and Charlie that. He called her Charlie when I named her Chantal.”
May smiled gently. “It must have been difficult to move between the stage and the regular world. To be a mother and a star. I would guess the lines blurred. But as I’m sure you know, it’s important to let our children shine.”
“Why? Chantal wasn’t like me.”
“But wasn’t she special to you?”
Dominique knew the correct answer was yes. Of course. Her child was everything, her world, her reason for being. “I’m not that kind of mother.”
“What kind?”
“The type who gives up everything. I wanted my life. My fans adored me. I danced for the president, for kings and queens. Was I supposed to give that up for a baby?”
“No. Not give it up. But Charlie is your daughter, not your staff. We have to be there for our children.”
Dominique desperately wanted to leave. Nothing about this conversation was comfortable. Still, she needed things to change and she didn’t know how.
“She’s an adult. She doesn’t need anything from me. She’s made that very clear.”
“Then you need to show her what you have to give.”
“She should be taking care of me!”
May studied her. “Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why should Charlie do anything for you? Because you gave birth to her? Does she owe you for that?”
“It’s what children do.”
“And what do parents do?”
Dominique clutched the saucer in one hand and the cup in the other. She thought of all the movies where parents read to their children and played with them. Of Dan laughing with Chantal, tucking her in at night. She remembered Chantal bringing home a report card with a few A’s on it and presenting it proudly. Dan had carried her on his shoulders and then put it on the refrigerator. Dominique had been busy with an interview.
“Clears land. It’ll dig up anything in its path. From what I heard, they’re going to start farming some of the land. This’ll get ’em ready in no time.” The delivery guy grinned. “As soon as they stop fighting about who gets their turn first.”
“Someone’s going to teach them how, right?”
“That’s his job.” He motioned to the man shouting.
Charlie shook her head. “I guess an instruction manual is out of the question.”
The delivery guy chuckled. “You got that right.”
He headed back to his truck. Charlie watched Shane and Clay finally settle in the driver’s seat and the one next to it. Clay was behind the wheel. The men shouted back and forth. She caught a word here and there, but knew this was something she couldn’t understand. She drove her engine because it was her job. She enjoyed it but more for what it could do for the people in her town than because it was big and powerful.
Clay was such a guy, she thought indulgently as she walked back to the barn. A good guy who was taking extraordinary care of her. After their first session together, she was optimistic about her chances of getting to normal. Once that was accomplished, they could both get back to their lives. He would become a volunteer firefighter and start his Haycations, while she would figure out the best way to bring children into her world.
She hoped they would always stay friends. In a town like Fool’s Gold, they would run into each other often. He was going above and beyond with her and she wanted to make sure things were never awkward. Something to remember, she told herself as she went to collect her horse.
She smiled as she thought about how worried she’d been about seeing him. At least now she could enjoy her ride in peace. After all, she was merely a woman. There was no way she could compete against man nirvana—otherwise known as very big farm equipment.
* * *
CLAY MOVED THE résumés in front of him, switching which one was on the left, then discarding a couple. Two remained and he still didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
He got up from the small desk in his bedroom at the ranch house and walked downstairs. Coffee wouldn’t make the decision any easier, but getting a cup was a distraction.
He went into the kitchen and found Dante Jefferson standing by the window, staring out at the view. Dante was Rafe’s business partner. A lawyer by trade and temperament, he hadn’t been happy when Rafe had wanted to move the business from San Francisco to Fool’s Gold.
Rafe had taken off on his delayed honeymoon about a week ago. Dante had driven in to take care of things in town while Rafe was gone.
“Settling in all right?” Clay asked as he collected a mug and moved to the always-full carafe.
“I brought one suitcase,” Dante told him. “Unpacking didn’t take long.”
“What about the rest of your stuff?”
“I’m waiting.”
“Refusing to pack in protest?”
Dante grinned. “Something like that.” He looked out the window. “I miss the bay.”
“It’s warmer here than in San Francisco.”
“It’s warmer in hell, too. Doesn’t mean I want to be there.”
“You could have told Rafe you wouldn’t agree to move the business.”
Dante nodded. “I know, but he was so damned happy. All in love and beaming. It was disconcerting.”
“Admitting to a moment of actual emotion?”
Dante turned and glared at him. “No. I’m a cold sonofabitch and don’t you forget it.”
Dante was about Clay’s height, with blond hair and dark blue eyes. He wore suits instead of jeans. Even now he had on a tie. Clay suspected it wouldn’t be long until the town worked its magic and Dante fit in just like everyone else.
Clay poured his coffee, then turned back to Dante. “I have a business question.”
“Need me to fly somewhere and file a brief? Because I’m happy to do it. New York? New York would be perfect.”
Clay grinned. “Sorry, no.” He thought about the résumés on his desk. “Rafe tell you about my Haycations idea?”
Dante nodded. “I did some research. There’s a growing market for that kind of travel. Families like the chance to reconnect with each other and a simpler time. They can drive instead of fly to get here, which people like. What’s the problem?”
“I need to hire a farm manager. I have plenty of theoretical learning, but not much in the way of practical experience. Based on that, I decided to get someone in for the first couple of years.”
“Smart,” Dante told him. “Hands-on education is best for a business like this.”
Clay nodded, then drew in a breath. “I can’t decide on the guy. I’m used to hiring a business manager or an accountant. This is different. I’ve narrowed it down to two guys.”
“What are they like?”
“Nate is close to forty, experienced. He’s worked on plenty of farms, has even helped one guy in Washington State start a vineyard. He knows how to get me where I want to go.”
“And the other guy?”
“Ty is younger and less experienced.” Clay hesitated. “I like Ty better. He seems more easygoing. But he’s never done what I want to do and while he grew up on a farm, he has a lot less experience on his own.”
“What does your gut say?”
“Ty,” Clay admitted. “But my gut could be wrong. Nate makes the most sense. I don’t know why I’m hesitating. He has good references. I checked them all and he gets positive reports from his previous employers.”
The decision was important and Clay didn’t want to make a mistake. He had something to prove. Ironically it wasn’t to his brothers or even the town. This time he had something to prove to himself.
Dante shrugged. “You’re going to have to pick one. If you make the wrong decision, you go back and correct it.”
“Is that what you do?”
Dante chuckled. “I don’t make mistakes. Didn’t Rafe tell you?”
“No. He forgot to mention that.”
“Sounds like him. Hogging all the glory.” Dante walked over and patted Clay on the shoulder. “Trust your instincts. They’re usually right.”
He walked out of the kitchen. Clay watched him go, then stared out the window. The guys he’d hired to clear the land would be done by the first part of next week. He needed to make a decision by then.
He went back upstairs and stared at the résumés. Even though his gut said to go with Ty, he knew he needed the experience Nate had to offer. He picked up his cell, then dialed Nate’s number.
* * *
DOMINIQUE STEPPED OUT of her car onto a very dusty driveway. She glanced down at her pale gray suede pumps and wondered if they would ever be the same.
“Beauty is a disposable asset,” she murmured as she closed the car door and looked around.
She’d never been on a ranch before and hadn’t known what to expect. There were horses in pens. She couldn’t see any cows, which was good. She wasn’t one who enjoyed the presence of cows. Up on the hill was a large open area with a—
She blinked, then stared. An elephant?
“Dominique?”
She turned and saw May Stryker standing on the porch of the house.
“Is that an elephant?” she asked, pointing.
“Yes. Priscilla. We also have sheep and llamas. I threatened my sons with a zebra a few months back, but I was only kidding. How nice to see you. Why don’t you come inside?”
Dominique gave the elephant one more backward glance before following the other woman into the house.
Yesterday, not knowing what else to do, she’d phoned May Stryker and asked if they could meet. She had no idea what to do about Chantal. Perhaps a woman with several children would have some suggestions.
May led her into a shabby living room. The furniture should have been replaced years ago and the walls were in need of fresh paint. Still, the room was a happy place. There were family pictures everywhere, and fresh flowers. Dominique always loved fresh-cut flowers.
“I made us tea,” May said, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and motioning to the old-fashioned silver tray she’d placed on the coffee table. “It seemed more an afternoon beverage than coffee.”
“Thank you,” Dominique said, taking the delicate cup and saucer May offered. She saw there were sliced lemon wedges, a small pitcher of milk, along with sugar in a bowl. Elegant, she thought, relaxing a little.
May was probably her age, Dominique thought. Perhaps a little younger. Pretty enough, with dark hair and bright, intelligent eyes. She obviously hadn’t tried to hold back time with injections or surgery. Dominique found that confusing, but perhaps ordinary people didn’t have the same pressure to be perfect. What would it feel like to not worry about her appearance? To simply not care about every new line, every added pound? She couldn’t imagine.
“How are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?” May asked.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t spent much time in small towns. The festival last weekend was interesting. I was surprised so many tourists came.” She sipped her tea, not sure what else to say. She desperately wanted to talk about her daughter, but didn’t know how to start.
A tall, handsome man walked into the room.
“Hey, Mom,” he said as he crossed to May. “I’m heading over to Annabelle’s.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Don’t expect me before morning.”
“I won’t.” May nodded at Dominique. “Shane, this is Charlie’s mother.”
Shane glanced at her, then smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dixon.”
“You, as well,” Dominique said, startled by the name. No one had called her Mrs. Dixon in years. Not since Dan had passed. She had always been Dominique Guérin, the celebrated. Not Dominique Dixon, Dan’s wife.
Shane murmured something in his mother’s ear, then left. May watched him go. “He’s engaged. My oldest, Rafe, was married a few weeks ago. Coming back to Fool’s Gold has been so happy for all of us.”
Dominique pressed her lips together, trying to hold in the words. But they had a life of their own and came out in a rush.
“Chantal hates me. She won’t have anything to do with me. I’ve been to her house several times, but she doesn’t answer the door. I tried to see her at the fire station, but there was an alarm and she left. I don’t know what to do.”
She stared at her tea, aware her eyes had that burning feeling again. Tears. She never gave in to tears. She’d danced with injuries that would have brought a linebacker to his knees and she’d never once let anyone suspect the pain. Why on earth would she cry now?
“How long have the two of you been estranged?” May asked quietly.
Estranged. What an odd word. “You’re suggesting we were once close and something happened,” Dominique said. “That’s not true. We’ve never been close.” She poured milk into her tea and stirred.
“Why not?”
“Many reasons. My work kept me traveling much of the time. I’m sure from the outside, the fame seems wonderful, but it’s difficult. Draining. When I was home, I had rehearsals, press. And my husband. I wanted to spend every moment I could with Dan.”
“Not your daughter?”
Dominique remembered what it had been like. “She had Dan. Chantal and her father were close.” Too close, in Dominique’s opinion. That man had worshipped his little girl. Sometimes she had wondered if he’d loved Chantal more than he’d loved her.
“That must have been a comfort to you,” May said. “Knowing he was there to take care of your little girl.”
“I was the star,” Dominique snapped. “I’m the one who was important. But it was always Charlie this and Charlie that. He called her Charlie when I named her Chantal.”
May smiled gently. “It must have been difficult to move between the stage and the regular world. To be a mother and a star. I would guess the lines blurred. But as I’m sure you know, it’s important to let our children shine.”
“Why? Chantal wasn’t like me.”
“But wasn’t she special to you?”
Dominique knew the correct answer was yes. Of course. Her child was everything, her world, her reason for being. “I’m not that kind of mother.”
“What kind?”
“The type who gives up everything. I wanted my life. My fans adored me. I danced for the president, for kings and queens. Was I supposed to give that up for a baby?”
“No. Not give it up. But Charlie is your daughter, not your staff. We have to be there for our children.”
Dominique desperately wanted to leave. Nothing about this conversation was comfortable. Still, she needed things to change and she didn’t know how.
“She’s an adult. She doesn’t need anything from me. She’s made that very clear.”
“Then you need to show her what you have to give.”
“She should be taking care of me!”
May studied her. “Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why should Charlie do anything for you? Because you gave birth to her? Does she owe you for that?”
“It’s what children do.”
“And what do parents do?”
Dominique clutched the saucer in one hand and the cup in the other. She thought of all the movies where parents read to their children and played with them. Of Dan laughing with Chantal, tucking her in at night. She remembered Chantal bringing home a report card with a few A’s on it and presenting it proudly. Dan had carried her on his shoulders and then put it on the refrigerator. Dominique had been busy with an interview.
