Ever After at Sweetheart Ranch (2 page)

“What's their feud all about?” Kate asked him.

Will shrugged. “They don't talk about it. My dad did tell me there was something about a Beautiful Baby contest in the sixties, and one of them or the other cheated. We think it goes back farther than that. It all seems kinda weird.”

Lyndsay and Kate exchanged a smile. “That usually sums up the widows,” Lyndsay said. “Although not usually your grandma,” she hastened to add.

Will gave her his white-­toothed grin, the one that sent feminine hearts fluttering in concentric circles out around him. And now she'd become just as affected?

“My grandma prefers the term ‘eccentric,' ” he said. “Hey, I gotta get back to the team before Mrs. Thalberg sees me and starts asking my grandma's stand on their upcoming historical projects.”

Lyndsay held back a laugh as he pretended not to see Nate and Josh waving at him from where they stood at either banner pole, adjusting it an inch one way or another for their grandmother.

“Will's such a goof,” Kate said, shaking her head as they went to sit in the stands. “Did you know he was going to ask me out on a date last fall if Tony and I hadn't gotten back together? He actually asked Tony's permission!”

“You can't be surprised.” Lyndsay shielded her eyes to watch as the Tony's Tavern team took to the field. “He's running out of women of legal age to date in Valentine Valley.”

Will Sweet never had a serious emotion in his life, his dating history being the perfect example. He was a serial dater, never with one woman for long. Not that the women complained all that much—­and Lyndsay knew them all, living in a small town like Valentine Valley. He treated his dates well and attentively until it was time to end things, usually in a month or two. But there were women in Aspen, Carbondale, and Basalt, too; otherwise, he would have long ago run out of dates.

Although a year younger than Tony, Will had been one of his best friends, so he'd been at her house a lot growing up, eating snacks after school while killing time before football or baseball practices. Tony had extracted a promise from her that she could never date any of his friends because it would put him in the middle when they broke up. Oh, he'd had a double standard all right, since he'd dated Kate, then married and divorced her. It had been awful on the friendships involved, so he'd been proven right.

She'd laughed at her brother then for laying down the law, but inside she'd taken him seriously.

Now Will was playing shortstop, always in the thick of the action, and Lyndsay didn't have to hide watching him play. Oh, and her brother was out there somewhere, too, center field.

“Did you ever date Will?” Kate asked.

Lyndsay almost betrayed herself by stiffening, but she caught the reaction in time. “Nope.”

She and Will had absolutely nothing in common—­she was a math teacher who played trumpet in a small jazz band and wrote books. Talk about geek. He was a cowboy whose love of the outdoors carried over to snowboarding and mountain biking, but he was a reckless daredevil. Once she'd gone on a ride with her brother and him, and she'd ended up walking halfway down the side of a mountain leading her bike because she couldn't keep up.

“I thought you said he'd dated everybody,” Kate said skeptically.

“Only those women interested in him. We don't all fawn over him, you know.”

“Defensive much?”

Lyndsay gave her a frown. “No, Counselor, just stating a fact.”

“And you're perfectly happy with that dentist from Carbondale, right? We had a good time double-­dating at Wild Thing.”

Lyndsay hesitated, then admitted, “We broke up a ­couple weeks ago.”

Kate gasped. “Oh, Lynds, I'm so sorry! You'd been together awhile, hadn't you?”

“Eight months.”

“Are you okay?”

“It was a mutual thing, no big deal.” But Lyndsay kept her eyes on the team at bat, not wanting to admit the truth—­that she'd ended things and left the poor guy brokenhearted. The confusion and disbelief in his eyes still made her flinch every time she remembered it.

She'd been just as confused, but she'd known one thing—­she hadn't fallen in love with him, and at thirty-­three, if she wasn't feeling a long-­term commitment, then what was the point?

Deep inside, a part of her scoffed at the all-­or-­nothing mentality, but she didn't want to look closely.

“Tell me he didn't go right to another woman,” Kate demanded.

“No, he's got kids. He takes his time.”

He'd taken a lot of time with her, and she knew he'd been more and more serious. And she'd practically run screaming for the hills. What the hell was wrong with her?

Will made a spectacular catch and passed the ball at lightning speed to first base, which made three outs. Lyndsay clapped and cheered along with half the stands, and she was glad for the distraction.

He was pretty easy on the eyes. Last year, Will had been part of “The Men of Valentine Valley” calendar, used to raise money for the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund. He'd been featured in the month of June, playing baseball, shirtless. And he'd been in the group shot for July, all of the men in swim trunks. Will had been front and center in the hot spring up behind the Sweetheart Inn, hazel eyes smoldering, sandy hair dark and curly with moisture, water dripping down his incredible six-­pack abs, as steam rose around him—­them. There'd been a whole crowd of local guys, she'd reminded herself at the time, including her brother.

Kate eyed her closely as the applause died away. “You seem . . . okay about it.”

It?
Oh, the breakup.
“I guess I am. I wasn't in love with him.”

“Then I feel better. So you're ready to get back out in the dating world?”

Lyndsay shrugged. “I've got a lot going on right now.” Like a book about to publish, a Facebook fan page to create, a website to finalize, papers to grade . . . and deciding on the perfect way to tell her family about
A Cowboy in Montana.
“I'll take my time.”

But Kate still radiated suspicion.

“I'm starving,” Lyndsay said brightly. “Want a hot dog?”

“Okay, thanks. Want me to come?”

“I can carry it. Be right back.”

Lyndsay felt both relieved and guilty at the need to distract her friend. But by the time she got back, Kate's grumbling stomach seemed to erase her memory about guys, and they enjoyed a ­couple more innings of the game—­

—­until Mrs. Sweet arrived, her chiffon overskirt floating on the spring breeze as she walked cautiously, regally, over the grass. Her broad-­brimmed hat shielded her narrowed eyes from the sun as she stared at Mrs. Thalberg's banner.

Lyndsay glanced at Kate to see her pressing her lips together, as if to keep from laughing.

“This is about to get ugly,” Lyndsay said solemnly—­then winked.

 

Chapter 2

B
ut it didn't get ugly right away. Mrs. Sweet sat down in a chair provided by granddaughter Stephanie Sweet, whose blond hair was up in a ponytail pulled through a ball cap. Steph was home for the summer after her first year of college. She was also Will's baby sister, so, of course, she started shouting his name when he was up at bat. Mrs. Sweet clapped politely when he made it to first base.

Lyndsay noticed that Mrs. Sweet wasn't always staring at the ball field; she was looking toward the dugout, where more chairs were grouped. Lyndsay realized that all three widows were watching the game, as well. Her own father, Mario De Luca, was sitting in the middle of them, at Mrs. Thalberg's side. He was tall, bald above a graying fringe of hair around his head, with broad working man's shoulders and a bit of a belly, now that he'd settled into semi-­retirement. She wondered with loving exasperation where his hat was, as his head gleamed in the setting sun.

She still was surprised about her dad dating again after all these years. Her parents had tried for a long time to have kids and were far older than all her friends' parents. Her mom had died of cancer when Lyndsay was only nine years old, leaving a void in her life that well-­meaning friends and family could never really fill. But her dad had been a hero, the rock of the family, becoming both parents for his children. A self-­employed plumber, he'd been able to adjust his schedule around their school field trips and sporting events. They'd had dinner together every night. Never once did she remember her dad dating. Last holiday season, she saw him with the widows. Knowing he played poker with them and taught Sunday school with Mrs. Thalberg, she hadn't given it any more thought than that. But soon, he was only with Mrs. Thalberg, the widow of a rancher, and when Lyndsay had finally asked if they were seeing each other, he'd confirmed it. She was happy for him. Mrs. Thalberg came to the occasional family gathering, but mostly she and Lyndsay's dad just enjoyed each other's company. Her dad insisted that Mrs. Thalberg wasn't about to leave the Widows' Boardinghouse, where she'd spent years living. It was on Silver Creek Ranch land, which her family owned. And Mario insisted he liked having his own place.

Her dad must have felt her stare, because he suddenly waved an arm at her, and she waved back.

“I love your dad,” Kate said softly, her voice warm with feeling.

Lyndsay glanced toward her friend, whose expression was suffused with love, and whose eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

“Gees, stop that,” Lyndsay said gruffly.

Kate cleared her throat and blinked her eyes. “I just can't believe he'll be my father-­in-­law again soon. I'm so, so lucky.” She slid her arm through Lyndsay's. “And we'll be sisters again.”

Now it was Lyndsay's turn to feel her eyes sting. “Can you just stop this? There's no crying at baseball.”

Kate giggled. “I think it's actually ‘in' baseball. It's from that movie
A League of Their Own,
right?”

“Whatever. Let's just watch the game.”

But the drama between the widows and Mrs. Sweet loomed like an impending storm. Lyndsay heard the murmurs, saw the glances from the stands toward the elderly ladies, and it would have been funny if she hadn't had to choose sides.

She didn't
have
to choose sides. All she had to do was vote. Privately.

“So what's with the crowd?” Kate asked, glancing around, her forehead furrowed.

Lyndsay sighed. “Mrs. Sweet arrived.”

“I see that, but so what?”

“She's the reigning president of the historical society and running for reelection.”

“Ahh,” Kate said, nodding. “Will they come to blows?”

Lyndsay grinned. “Who can say? The historical society had an ‘incident' ”—­she used air quotes—­“earlier this year. The museum asked Mrs. Sweet if she'd lend memorabilia about her famous mother.”

“The silent movie star!” Kate said enthusiastically. “I remember hearing about her. Didn't she and Mrs. Sweet's rancher dad meet in Glenwood Springs, when she was passing through by train, and he'd brought his cattle to be sold?”

“Yep, love at first sight and all that. They're the ones that built the Sweetheart Inn as their home. Anyway, there's a collection of movie memorabilia the museum wanted to borrow, but Mrs. Sweet worried it would get damaged or lost, so she refused and ended up creating a permanent display at the inn.”

Kate shrugged. “I can see both sides of this argument.”

“Needless to say, the widows—­already touchy about anything associated with Mrs. Sweet for mysterious reasons—­had a fit on behalf of the museum. And Mrs. Thalberg running for president must be the result.”

Kate pointed toward Tony's team dugout. “Look at the way the guys and Brooke are staring at the widows and Mrs. Sweet. I feel really sorry for all the grandkids involved.”

There were a lot of Sweets and Thalbergs on the team, but only one female—­cowgirl Brooke Thalberg.

At last the game was over, with Tony's Tavern squeaking out a win over the True Grits Diner. As Lyndsay climbed down from the stands, she noticed that the Thalbergs and Sweets stayed overly long in the dugout. Feeling amused, she wondered if that was deliberate on their parts to avoid the brewing election controversy.

“Hi, Lyndsay!”

She turned and saw Sean Lighton, wearing a True Grits Diner t-­shirt, walking toward her. He must have been a little out of shape, for beneath his damp, curly brown hair, his face was still red from the game. He was new in town, a web designer and, as he himself put it, “a geek in the great outdoors.”

She thought he might be pretty amusing when he relaxed a bit. “Hi, Sean. You're playing for True Grits, huh?”

He looked down at his chest and gave a chagrined smile. “The restaurant is a client. I thought, what the heck. It's a good reason to be outside.” Then he glanced past her, and his expression fell. “Have a good night, Lyndsay.”

As Sean walked away, she turned around and saw Will striding toward Kate and her, loose-­limbed and broad-­shouldered. Giving Lyndsay a nod, he moved past her to kiss his grandma's cheek and stand between her and the looming banner with Mrs. Thalberg's cheerful face. Lyndsay noticed he used his killer smile even on his grandma.

“Thanks for coming to the game, Grandma,” Will said.

“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Sweet eyed him with fondness. “It's a lovely evening.”

Will put an arm around his sister Steph's shoulders. “Hey, kid, maybe you should join the team one of these days.”

“Some of us often work evenings,” Steph said.

Will spread his arms wide. “And I don't? Those dams have to be moved for the hay irrigation morning and night. I don't see you out in the fields.”

“I'm going to be a pastry chef and bakery owner, thank you very much,” Steph said.

“I don't see the
current
pastry chef and bakery owner. Did she work so you didn't have to?”

“She might have,” Steph admitted sheepishly.

The owner of Sugar and Spice was Emily Thalberg, Steph and Will's long-­lost half sister, with whom they'd been reunited a few years back. Emily was now married to Nate Thalberg.

Lyndsay winced in sympathy as she realized that the coming war for president of the historical society put Emily directly in the middle, with Mrs. Sweet as her grandma and Mrs. Thalberg as her grandma-­in-­law. But who was Lyndsay kidding—­the whole town was going to be in the crosshairs. Lyndsay watched Mrs. Sweet's pleasant expression fade as she studied the banner again.

“Now, Grandma,” Will said in a cajoling voice, “all's fair in an election.”

Mrs. Sweet sniffed. “I've never had to resort to such . . . tactics to earn the vote of each citizen.”

“There's a first time for everything,” Will answered. “Do you want to respond somehow, or just run on your record?”

Lyndsay bit her lip to keep from laughing, knowing what Will must wish would happen.

“I will give it thought, William, thank you.”

Will looked over his grandma's head, and Lyndsay saw that the widows were approaching. To her surprise, Will caught Lyndsay's eye and mouthed, “Help me!”

She pressed her lips together though they twitched with laughter, then raised her hands helplessly.

“You heading home?” Kate called.

“Not yet,” Lyndsay said, gesturing at the approaching conflagration.

“Oh dear,” Kate murmured.

The three widows were like a force of nature, each very different from the other. Where Mrs. Thalberg was a practical rancher's widow, Mrs. Palmer was the flighty wild child of the group, with her outrageous makeup, tarot-­reading skills, and patterned homemade dresses—­tonight's was a child's print with baseballs, bats, and mitts—­and a big blond wig upon which perched a ball cap. She had pom-­poms in one hand and a massive purse in the other. Mrs. Ludlow, with her pressed slacks and simple white blouse, could be anyone's grandma, and she moved with slow and steady speed behind her walker. When Mrs. Ludlow offered a genuinely warm smile to Mrs. Sweet, Lyndsay remembered that Mrs. Ludlow had ever been the peacemaker.

“Eileen, how good to see you in the park, enjoying the fresh air.”

Mrs. Sweet leaned forward to kiss Mrs. Ludlow's cheek. “Connie, dear, we all only wish we could be as health conscious as you.”

Will seemed to notice Lyndsay's surprised expression at all the congeniality. Why did he keep looking at her? It was making her think he knew her secrets.

“Apparently,” Kate whispered, “not all the widows have a problem with Mrs. Sweet.”

“Poor Mrs. Ludlow—­a divided loyalty can't be easy in this town,” Lyndsay pointed out.

Ignoring the other widows, Mrs. Sweet spoke directly to Mrs. Ludlow. “I'm surprised to learn of Rosemary running against me like this.” She gestured to the sign. “Rather ostentatious, isn't it?”

“It gets the point across,” Mrs. Thalberg said.

Mrs. Sweet's gaze was glacial as she said, “You could have spoken to me if you had a problem with how I run the historical society.”

“Amazingly, it's not supposed to be a monarchy,” Mrs. Thalberg said in a pleasant voice. “I did voice my concerns, and I was ignored.”

“Ignored?” Mrs. Sweet echoed coolly. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“It's hard to hear us common folk when your head's up in the clouds,” Mrs. Palmer said, her Western accent strong.

Lyndsay looked around for the woman's grandson, Adam Desantis, but noticed that he and his wife, Brooke, were nowhere to be seen. Not that she blamed them.

Lyndsay's dad approached and gave Mrs. Sweet a big smile. “Good evenin', Eileen. Guess Rosemary's going to make the race interesting this year.”

“So she is,” Mrs. Sweet answered. “I will have to run the race in my own way.”

“Bring it on, Eileen,” Mrs. Thalberg challenged, her expression brimming with confidence.

“Grandma, how 'bout we go for an ice cream?” Will asked, sticking out his elbow to Mrs. Sweet. “You always took me for ice cream after my games—­time I returned the favor.”

“Very well, William. Perhaps you will be a good sounding board for my election ideas.”

Will hesitated only a fraction of a second, but Lyndsay noticed it. She almost felt sorry for him.

“Of course, Grandma. Sounds like fun.”

The two of them, along with Steph, walked off together, leaving the widows to stare after them.

Wearing matching frowns, Mrs. Thalberg and Mrs. Palmer studied Mrs. Ludlow.

Mrs. Ludlow held up a hand. “I've already told you, I am not getting in the middle of any altercations. The election is a democratic process—­let us treat it without emotion.”

“Without emotion?” Mrs. Palmer said, aghast. “When have we
not
had emotion with Eileen?”

Mrs. Thalberg glanced at Lyndsay and Kate, still avidly listening. “We can finish this discussion in private.”

“I'll drive you ladies home,” Mario said, then gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good night, babes.”

“Hey, Mom!” Ethan called. He was playing catch with his father on the other side of the stands. “You coming?”

Kate looked at Lyndsay. “Come on and walk home with us. We can have our own ice cream.”

“No, but thanks. Gotta grade papers.”
And write.
The next book was due to her editor in two months, and she still had a ­couple chapters to go. Lyndsay raised a hand good-­bye as Kate left to join Tony and Ethan.

She turned to start around the far side of the stands and came to a sudden stop. Will was still there, talking to a middle-­aged ­couple. They seemed familiar, but Lyndsay couldn't place them. Mrs. Sweet had already reached her car across the field and was seated inside, waiting for him. Lyndsay backed up and considered walking the long way around the ball field.

“Will, you don't have to come, really you don't,” said the woman, her cajoling voice full of warmth.

“Mrs. Acker, you can't keep me away,” Will said. “I always ride fence with Mr. Acker. What do you say, sir? It's our spring ritual.”

And then Lyndsay remembered who they were, and a wave of sadness—­and curiosity—­washed through her. They were the parents of Brittany, Will's high school girlfriend, the one who'd died in a car accident.

“Will, you have your own ranch to work,” Mr. Acker said.

“You tell me this every time, but it makes no difference,” Will insisted. “I have two brothers who work with me, my dad, and some ranch hands. I can name my own time. So I'll see you tomorrow morning at eight?”

Lyndsay couldn't see their faces, but in the silence she could imagine Mr. and Mrs. Acker looking to each other to make a shared decision.