Redwood Bend
Page 39
“Does Katie want to go?” Conner asked.
“I haven’t asked her yet. I’m asking you to go along with this before I ask her. Because after I show her my home, I’d like to ask her to marry me. If you give your blessing.”
“Seriously?” Conner said dubiously. “You’re asking my blessing? Why?”
“Because you’re the most important person in her life besides the boys. And because we started a family, which means we’re going to be family, you and I.”
“Are you saying you love her?”
Dylan noticed that the place had gone kind of quiet. Not so much drywall, hardwood or tile was getting done. He was afraid to turn around and find a gallery of workers hanging on his answer. “You know what, Conner? I’ll tell you about anything you want to know, but that thing? I’d really like to tell her before I tell you. All I want is your permission to show her my home and propose. And I want the boys to go, too.”
Conner took a step toward him. “Listen, if you’re not in all the way, you don’t have to do this, marry her. Because I can take care of my family and I will…”
“Let her decide, Conner. I’ve never been married, never been a father. But I have an idea what it takes and I’ll do my best.”
“Do you have any idea how important Katie’s happiness is to me?”
“I can guess,” Dylan said. “Do you have any idea how sorry I am that her father is deceased? Because I can’t imagine he’d be any tougher to please than you.”
Conner gave a huff of laughter. “You might want to take that back—my dad was a pretty grumpy old coot, even when he was young.”
“Big surprise,” Dylan said. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Conner thought for a minute. “We should probably go have a beer. Talk about some particulars. Like how you’re going to take care of her with a business that isn’t doing too well. And what you’re going to say if she doesn’t like where and how you live.”
“I don’t hear a lot of pounding or sawing,” Dylan said. “Does most of Haggerty Construction now know I want to marry my pregnant girlfriend?”
“I’d have to say yes, if they don’t know now, they soon will. Let’s go. You’re buying.”
“Fine,” Dylan said. “Jack’s?”
“The only game in town. See you there. I’ll pack up my tools.”
Dylan walked toward the door. He turned back and faced about six men, all very large, all wearing tool belts, all looking like they’d prefer more gossip than a chance to beat him up. “Get back to work,” he said to them. “That’s all I’m giving you.” And then he left and drove back to Virgin River.
Dylan was nursing a cup of coffee when Conner finally showed up. The bar was still empty, the dinner crowd not yet arrived. Conner sat up on the stool beside Dylan and said to Jack, “Give him a beer. And run him a tab.”
“I’m picking up the boys and taking them home.”
“No, you’re not. I checked in with Leslie—she’s going to take the boys home for you.”
Dylan stiffened. “Hey, I haven’t run this plan by Katie yet. I’d rather Leslie not fill her in on our discussion.”
“Relax. Les is going to tell Katie that we’re having a beer together. Hopefully she’ll see that as a good thing.”
“Leslie is a nice lady,” Dylan said. “So here’s a pertinent question—you planning on marrying Leslie?”
“That’s between us. And by the way, she’s not pregnant…”
Jack stepped in front of them, delivering a couple of beers. “I have some experience with this if you’re interested.”
“No,” they said in unison.
“Jeez,” Jack said. “Have it your way.” And he moved away and went into the kitchen.
Conner turned toward Dylan. “I take it you’ve never found yourself in this position before?”
“Nope,” Dylan confirmed. “You?”
“Nope,” Conner said. Then he shrugged and added, “Can’t say why. I’ve never proven myself to be all that smart.”
Dylan laughed in spite of himself. “Katie thinks you walk on water…”
“She’s biased. So, what’s your plan, big shot?”
“Well, it’s simple. I have a meeting in L.A. tomorrow night—should be quick. Then like I said, I have to go back to Montana—I think the kids will like it. It’s a lot like here, but rougher sometimes, like in winter. Winters can be brutal. It’s small, nice people, good schools, clean air, very big sky…”
“Right. So—suppose they like it?”
“If they like Payne and like me, that could make life pretty easy since we should all be together.”
“In Montana…”
“Where to live is up to Katie, all right? If she can’t stand the idea of being away from you, we’ll work with that. I can probably find some kind of job around here…”
“What’s this crap about you being some kind of big star?” Conner asked.
“A long, long time ago. I’m a has-been, and frankly I like it that way. I wouldn’t want to raise the twins in Hollywood. Or this new one, either. I’d rather raise them on egg and milk money.”
“And what the hell does that mean? Egg and milk money?”
“My little airport can probably support a couple of families just on plane storage, maintenance, a few charters, the occasional instruction. The airport is on my ranch, which is about sixty acres—a few cows, some chickens, some goats. I have a hand who likes taking care of the animals. We sell eggs and stock—he bought us a bull several years ago. The little bit of laying and breeding we do just about covers his salary. I lease some grazing land to a rancher but Ham, that’s my hand, he has a big summer garden at my place. We hunt and fish. We process our kill and eat it all winter.”
“You’re not rich?” Conner asked.
“Nope.”
“No big star money?”
“Nope. But I get by pretty well. The way I live—it’s healthy.”
“And you fly? Leave home a lot?”
“Less often than a commercial pilot. And it’s a tight community—we all look out for each other. I live in the valley and we have lots of wildlife—ours can be a little more challenging. We have the occasional grizzly—a lot more aggressive than black bear, but they tend to like the mountains. We have moose, deer, elk, coyote, mountain lions, bobcats, wolves. We have dogs who wake us up if the wolves or cats start pestering the chickens or goats. We keep the barn and pens secure against predators. Why buy a chicken or goat to feed to wolves?” Dylan took a drink of his beer. “Boys and girls grow up strong and healthy.”
Conner put his elbow on the bar and leaned his head on his hand. “I think I want to see this place.”
“Fine,” Dylan said. He smiled. “Summers,” he suggested. “Maybe every other Christmas.”
Conner just laughed. “You going to leave pretty soon? If she agrees?”
“I bought tickets. I took Katie up in a little plane and she puked, so I bought tickets. I think she’ll be okay on a jet. We’ll have to drive to Redding and fly into Butte. My best friend’s wife will pick us up. So…after I get back from L.A. in a few days,” he finished.
“A few days?” Conner asked.
“I’ll get back from L.A. Wednesday afternoon. I have tickets to leave Friday, be back Monday. Can you live with that?”
“We better have another beer. You can tell me more about your plans.”
Dylan smiled. “I guess we better.”
Dylan pulled into the clearing at the cabin and found that Katie was watching the boys on the jungle gym. She sat on the porch with her air horn beside her chair.
The boys ran to him, shouting his name, grabbing on to his legs. “Play catch?” Mitch asked. “No, soccer,” Andy said. “Or kick ball.”
“First I want to talk to your mom and put this dinner in the house, all right? Go play for a little while.”
They reluctantly let go of him. He grinned as they went back to the swing set. He couldn’t help thinking, They like me. He mounted the porch and bent to give Katie a kiss on the forehead.
“What in the world is going on?” she asked. “Having a beer with Conner? Leslie bringing the boys home? What are you up to?”
“Surprise,” he said. “I’ll tell you in a second.” He took the brown paper bag with Preacher’s fried chicken in the house and came back outside, sitting in the chair beside her. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and presented it to her.
She unfolded it—it was a ticketless travel voucher to Butte. “What is this?”
“Well, Katie, I want to take you and the boys to Montana. I want to try to show you what my life there is like. I want to introduce you to my best friend and his wife and kids. I want you to see the town. I think the boys would like to meet the animals.”
“Four tickets,” she said. “Coming back to California after just a couple of days?”
“I want to check on Lang and the company, too. I didn’t think you had anything else you had to do.”
“You have our names spelled exactly right for travel. The birthdates are correct. How did you know I was Katherine Marie Malone?”
“That was dicey—I had to look at your driver’s license. I figured if you caught me in your wallet, I’d get the air horn, or worse. And you keep the birth certificates in the trunk along with Charlie’s medals.”
“Hmm. And this has to do with Conner how?” she asked.
“If Conner and I are going to be friends, I didn’t dare take you out of town without talking to him—he’d have the Feds running me down. Here’s what I have to do,” he said, pulling out another piece of paper, another ticketless reservation. “I have to make a quick trip down to L.A. for a meeting with those movie people I’ve been working with. Jay Romney, the producer who made this offer, is an old friend and when he wants to meet, it’s the least I can do. The man has tried to help me in any way he can. One meeting—and it should be quick. I’ll be gone one night. When I get back, we’ll pack some bags. You won’t need much—the weather is about the same as here. And I can get booster seats and whatever from Lang.”
She got a worried look on her face. “Is your movie deal all put together?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“Do you hope…?” she asked.
He gave her cheek a soft caress and smiled. “What I hope is that you and the boys have fun with me in Montana. I’m kind of proud of it.”
This time Dylan didn’t wear business meeting clothes to see Jay Romney in L.A., although he now had them. He did wear decent jeans with his boots, however. And he had asked specifically to meet in the office, not in a restaurant or at Jay’s lavish Brentwood home. He also asked if it could be just the two of them, sans directors, lawyers, agents or administrative assistants.
When he walked into the office at four in the afternoon, hopefully the last meeting of the day for Jay, he couldn’t help but appreciate the rich decor—the Moroccan leather furniture, the polished rosewood, the original art and the view—Jay sat on top of Hollywood, overlooking the lesser movie gods. It made him smile; there was a time Dylan aspired to something like this.
Jay stood from behind his desk. For someone who worked and lived in this modern opulence, Jay was a pretty simple man. He was the father of grown children, he was bald with a ring of brown hair around his dome and even though he surfed, ran and worked out, he had a bit of a paunch.
“I haven’t asked her yet. I’m asking you to go along with this before I ask her. Because after I show her my home, I’d like to ask her to marry me. If you give your blessing.”
“Seriously?” Conner said dubiously. “You’re asking my blessing? Why?”
“Because you’re the most important person in her life besides the boys. And because we started a family, which means we’re going to be family, you and I.”
“Are you saying you love her?”
Dylan noticed that the place had gone kind of quiet. Not so much drywall, hardwood or tile was getting done. He was afraid to turn around and find a gallery of workers hanging on his answer. “You know what, Conner? I’ll tell you about anything you want to know, but that thing? I’d really like to tell her before I tell you. All I want is your permission to show her my home and propose. And I want the boys to go, too.”
Conner took a step toward him. “Listen, if you’re not in all the way, you don’t have to do this, marry her. Because I can take care of my family and I will…”
“Let her decide, Conner. I’ve never been married, never been a father. But I have an idea what it takes and I’ll do my best.”
“Do you have any idea how important Katie’s happiness is to me?”
“I can guess,” Dylan said. “Do you have any idea how sorry I am that her father is deceased? Because I can’t imagine he’d be any tougher to please than you.”
Conner gave a huff of laughter. “You might want to take that back—my dad was a pretty grumpy old coot, even when he was young.”
“Big surprise,” Dylan said. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Conner thought for a minute. “We should probably go have a beer. Talk about some particulars. Like how you’re going to take care of her with a business that isn’t doing too well. And what you’re going to say if she doesn’t like where and how you live.”
“I don’t hear a lot of pounding or sawing,” Dylan said. “Does most of Haggerty Construction now know I want to marry my pregnant girlfriend?”
“I’d have to say yes, if they don’t know now, they soon will. Let’s go. You’re buying.”
“Fine,” Dylan said. “Jack’s?”
“The only game in town. See you there. I’ll pack up my tools.”
Dylan walked toward the door. He turned back and faced about six men, all very large, all wearing tool belts, all looking like they’d prefer more gossip than a chance to beat him up. “Get back to work,” he said to them. “That’s all I’m giving you.” And then he left and drove back to Virgin River.
Dylan was nursing a cup of coffee when Conner finally showed up. The bar was still empty, the dinner crowd not yet arrived. Conner sat up on the stool beside Dylan and said to Jack, “Give him a beer. And run him a tab.”
“I’m picking up the boys and taking them home.”
“No, you’re not. I checked in with Leslie—she’s going to take the boys home for you.”
Dylan stiffened. “Hey, I haven’t run this plan by Katie yet. I’d rather Leslie not fill her in on our discussion.”
“Relax. Les is going to tell Katie that we’re having a beer together. Hopefully she’ll see that as a good thing.”
“Leslie is a nice lady,” Dylan said. “So here’s a pertinent question—you planning on marrying Leslie?”
“That’s between us. And by the way, she’s not pregnant…”
Jack stepped in front of them, delivering a couple of beers. “I have some experience with this if you’re interested.”
“No,” they said in unison.
“Jeez,” Jack said. “Have it your way.” And he moved away and went into the kitchen.
Conner turned toward Dylan. “I take it you’ve never found yourself in this position before?”
“Nope,” Dylan confirmed. “You?”
“Nope,” Conner said. Then he shrugged and added, “Can’t say why. I’ve never proven myself to be all that smart.”
Dylan laughed in spite of himself. “Katie thinks you walk on water…”
“She’s biased. So, what’s your plan, big shot?”
“Well, it’s simple. I have a meeting in L.A. tomorrow night—should be quick. Then like I said, I have to go back to Montana—I think the kids will like it. It’s a lot like here, but rougher sometimes, like in winter. Winters can be brutal. It’s small, nice people, good schools, clean air, very big sky…”
“Right. So—suppose they like it?”
“If they like Payne and like me, that could make life pretty easy since we should all be together.”
“In Montana…”
“Where to live is up to Katie, all right? If she can’t stand the idea of being away from you, we’ll work with that. I can probably find some kind of job around here…”
“What’s this crap about you being some kind of big star?” Conner asked.
“A long, long time ago. I’m a has-been, and frankly I like it that way. I wouldn’t want to raise the twins in Hollywood. Or this new one, either. I’d rather raise them on egg and milk money.”
“And what the hell does that mean? Egg and milk money?”
“My little airport can probably support a couple of families just on plane storage, maintenance, a few charters, the occasional instruction. The airport is on my ranch, which is about sixty acres—a few cows, some chickens, some goats. I have a hand who likes taking care of the animals. We sell eggs and stock—he bought us a bull several years ago. The little bit of laying and breeding we do just about covers his salary. I lease some grazing land to a rancher but Ham, that’s my hand, he has a big summer garden at my place. We hunt and fish. We process our kill and eat it all winter.”
“You’re not rich?” Conner asked.
“Nope.”
“No big star money?”
“Nope. But I get by pretty well. The way I live—it’s healthy.”
“And you fly? Leave home a lot?”
“Less often than a commercial pilot. And it’s a tight community—we all look out for each other. I live in the valley and we have lots of wildlife—ours can be a little more challenging. We have the occasional grizzly—a lot more aggressive than black bear, but they tend to like the mountains. We have moose, deer, elk, coyote, mountain lions, bobcats, wolves. We have dogs who wake us up if the wolves or cats start pestering the chickens or goats. We keep the barn and pens secure against predators. Why buy a chicken or goat to feed to wolves?” Dylan took a drink of his beer. “Boys and girls grow up strong and healthy.”
Conner put his elbow on the bar and leaned his head on his hand. “I think I want to see this place.”
“Fine,” Dylan said. He smiled. “Summers,” he suggested. “Maybe every other Christmas.”
Conner just laughed. “You going to leave pretty soon? If she agrees?”
“I bought tickets. I took Katie up in a little plane and she puked, so I bought tickets. I think she’ll be okay on a jet. We’ll have to drive to Redding and fly into Butte. My best friend’s wife will pick us up. So…after I get back from L.A. in a few days,” he finished.
“A few days?” Conner asked.
“I’ll get back from L.A. Wednesday afternoon. I have tickets to leave Friday, be back Monday. Can you live with that?”
“We better have another beer. You can tell me more about your plans.”
Dylan smiled. “I guess we better.”
Dylan pulled into the clearing at the cabin and found that Katie was watching the boys on the jungle gym. She sat on the porch with her air horn beside her chair.
The boys ran to him, shouting his name, grabbing on to his legs. “Play catch?” Mitch asked. “No, soccer,” Andy said. “Or kick ball.”
“First I want to talk to your mom and put this dinner in the house, all right? Go play for a little while.”
They reluctantly let go of him. He grinned as they went back to the swing set. He couldn’t help thinking, They like me. He mounted the porch and bent to give Katie a kiss on the forehead.
“What in the world is going on?” she asked. “Having a beer with Conner? Leslie bringing the boys home? What are you up to?”
“Surprise,” he said. “I’ll tell you in a second.” He took the brown paper bag with Preacher’s fried chicken in the house and came back outside, sitting in the chair beside her. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and presented it to her.
She unfolded it—it was a ticketless travel voucher to Butte. “What is this?”
“Well, Katie, I want to take you and the boys to Montana. I want to try to show you what my life there is like. I want to introduce you to my best friend and his wife and kids. I want you to see the town. I think the boys would like to meet the animals.”
“Four tickets,” she said. “Coming back to California after just a couple of days?”
“I want to check on Lang and the company, too. I didn’t think you had anything else you had to do.”
“You have our names spelled exactly right for travel. The birthdates are correct. How did you know I was Katherine Marie Malone?”
“That was dicey—I had to look at your driver’s license. I figured if you caught me in your wallet, I’d get the air horn, or worse. And you keep the birth certificates in the trunk along with Charlie’s medals.”
“Hmm. And this has to do with Conner how?” she asked.
“If Conner and I are going to be friends, I didn’t dare take you out of town without talking to him—he’d have the Feds running me down. Here’s what I have to do,” he said, pulling out another piece of paper, another ticketless reservation. “I have to make a quick trip down to L.A. for a meeting with those movie people I’ve been working with. Jay Romney, the producer who made this offer, is an old friend and when he wants to meet, it’s the least I can do. The man has tried to help me in any way he can. One meeting—and it should be quick. I’ll be gone one night. When I get back, we’ll pack some bags. You won’t need much—the weather is about the same as here. And I can get booster seats and whatever from Lang.”
She got a worried look on her face. “Is your movie deal all put together?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
“Do you hope…?” she asked.
He gave her cheek a soft caress and smiled. “What I hope is that you and the boys have fun with me in Montana. I’m kind of proud of it.”
This time Dylan didn’t wear business meeting clothes to see Jay Romney in L.A., although he now had them. He did wear decent jeans with his boots, however. And he had asked specifically to meet in the office, not in a restaurant or at Jay’s lavish Brentwood home. He also asked if it could be just the two of them, sans directors, lawyers, agents or administrative assistants.
When he walked into the office at four in the afternoon, hopefully the last meeting of the day for Jay, he couldn’t help but appreciate the rich decor—the Moroccan leather furniture, the polished rosewood, the original art and the view—Jay sat on top of Hollywood, overlooking the lesser movie gods. It made him smile; there was a time Dylan aspired to something like this.
Jay stood from behind his desk. For someone who worked and lived in this modern opulence, Jay was a pretty simple man. He was the father of grown children, he was bald with a ring of brown hair around his dome and even though he surfed, ran and worked out, he had a bit of a paunch.
