Last Chance Llama Ranch (41 page)

“A
little
party? Half the UN was there!”

“It was what was expected for a girl of your station. But I never expected you'd hate it so much you'd…do what you did.” Gwendolyn's voice broke. “After that, I suppose I became obsessed with your skiing career, because the only time I ever saw a smile on your face was when you'd cross the finish line. You were so talented, so dedicated. You had a gift that put the rest of us to shame—my own small talent as a skater was never anything to compare to your greatness. And then, when you lost it…” She stopped, and tears trembled again on her lashes—real tears, ugly tears this time. “When you almost died…Oh, Merry, I was afraid you'd never find another place where you'd be happy. Ever since, you've seemed so adrift. The only thing I could think was to bring you home, so that I could provide a safe place for you, and a purpose.”

Merry felt as if Betty the poltergoat had butted her square in the solar plexus. She'd never heard so much raw honesty from her mother. Could she trust it? Or was this just another trick to get her to conform? “But what if where I'm happy is
here
? What then, Mother?”

Gwendolyn sighed. “Merry, it hasn't been that long since the accident. There's still a whole world out there for you—and I'm not talking about hamam horror stories or pub crawls in Copenhagen. Here, all you have is…” She prodded a clod on the ground with the toe of her twelve-hundred-dollar boot. “
Manure
.” She put her hand on Merry's arm again. “I'm not asking you to stop caring about these people. Of course it's natural for you to care, especially when you've been struggling so hard to find your way. I'm simply trying to make you see what you'll be giving up if you limit yourself to this little village. If you turn your back on all the Hollingsworth and Manning names can offer.”

Merry blew out a breath of frustration. “You've no idea what
Aguas Milagros
has to offer, Mother. How about you give it a chance before you decide they're all rubes? Get to know them, instead of just assuming they're ‘too limited' for your daughter. Maybe I'm not the one who's missing something. Maybe it's
you
who can't see. You're in the middle of a ranch, for Christ's sake, and you haven't even looked at the animals! I mean, what kind of woman thinks an alpaca isn't adorable? Who couldn't love a llama?”

“I have nothing against these people
or
their livestock, Merry.”

“Prove it!”

And she did.

“Mother, wait!” I cried, but Mother was already striding up to the paddock fence. Buddha's neck drew back with alarm, his ears flapping agitatedly.

I knew what came next.

Apparently, so did my mother. As the stream of spit arced through the air, my mother ducked.

Ducked, I tell you. And she did it so gracefully it was no effort at all—like a character in
The
Matrix
dodging bullets in slow motion. I could almost hear sound effects, I swear.

My mouth dropped open. Unfortunately for my brother, who was standing behind Mother, so did his.

Thwack.
Buddha scored a hole in one.

“Auuggggggggghhhhh!” Marcus gargled. His face was covered with slobber and contorted with horror. “Call the CDC!”

So that's what I looked like, that first day at the ranch
, I thought. I looked over at Sam, who was biting his lip manfully. Jane didn't do such a great job hiding her mirth. “Hold still, crybaby,” she snickered. “I've got you.” She tugged a hankie free of her back pocket and flapped it open. While the elder Mannings watched in appalled fascination, she wiped their pride
and joy clean. “There, good as new,” she pronounced. “Or, as good as you're gonna get, anyway.”

I must tell you, our dear vet did not look impressed.

Marcus, however, looked intrigued. “Thanks, babe,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You're a real lifesaver.”

Jane shrugged out from under it. “Save it,” she said. “You're not my type.”

“Gay, huh?” Marcus side-mouthed to Merry as they continued their tour.

“Who, Jane? I don't think so.” Merry was still so rattled by her fight with their mother that she could scarcely pay attention to Marcus.

“C'mon. She's got to be.”

Merry looked over at Jane, who was measuring little Bill from stem to stern, jotting down notes on a pad. She tugged the cria's ear playfully as it nosed in her pockets for treats. Jane's joy was contagious, but Merry couldn't share it. She was too busy trying to wrap her mind around everything her mother had revealed. So much that she'd believed about Gwendolyn had just been called into question. But one thing Merry knew: Her mother
was
a snob. And Gwendolyn wasn't the only Manning with a penchant for pretention. “Hate to break it to you, Uglymug, but not falling for your charms doesn't make a woman homosexual.”

Marcus didn't look offended. “In my experience it does.”

“Well, you're in a different world now, Banana Hammock.”

Marcus grew serious. “I can see that, Sis. And I can see how good it's been for you. This ranch seems to have worked a kind of magic on you. I don't think I've seen you this happy since…well,
ever
.”

Merry forgave Marcus's arrogance. As always, he saw straight into the heart of her—the only one, before Sam, who could.
If only our parents could do the same…
“You're right. This time at the Last Chance…it's given me a
second
chance. A place to start over, and maybe even belong.”

“Are you seriously thinking of staying on? Even if it really does mean telling Mom and her money to bugger off?”

“I am,” Merry said, and saying it aloud made her feel suddenly light—and not merely in the wallet. “That is, if there's anything to stay for.”

“What about Sam? The guy's clearly willing to go twelve rounds in the ring for you.”

Merry blushed. “He's part of it. But I meant the buyout. Dolly's ex will be back any day, and he'll spend the rest of their lives hauling Dolly through the courts if he doesn't get what he wants.”

Marcus nodded. “I can understand why you'd be upset if Dolly lost the ranch. I'd help you out, out of my own inheritance, but…” He paused. “That might prove tricky.”

Before Merry could ask what he meant, Pierce strode up. “Merry, I've just made acquaintance with the most astounding creature!” He linked arms with her and tugged her to the pen where Jane, with Dolly's help, was finishing up Bill's wellness exam. Dashiell had her head over the rail, batting her lashes at them both, while Bill, all curly chocolate wool and sweet innocent cheeks, nuzzled her for milk. Pierce seemed smitten. “Dorothy's been telling me how you helped save this young fellow's life.” He shook his head. “Amazing!”

Merry beamed under her father's praise. “He is pretty cute, isn't he?”

“Gwendolyn, isn't it something? Look what our Merry's done!”

Gwendolyn, following in her husband's wake, tried on a smile. “I'm sure we're all very proud of Merry's…animal husbandry.” She pulled the hem of her coat away from the cria's questing mouth.

Guess we're not holding hands and singing songs around the campfire quite yet
, Merry thought.

“Neither Dashie nor her cria would have made it through the night if it weren't for Merry,” said Sam, clearly trying to cut the tension.

“And
I
wouldn't have made it through the night if it weren't for Sam.” Very deliberately, Merry slipped her arm about his waist.

Sam looked surprised at the way she'd just claimed him in front of her family, but his eyes were warm as he gazed back at her. He looped his arm around her in return, and Merry was buoyed by its solidity. “I think you'd have done alright, honey, but I was glad to help where I could.”

“You've helped our daughter quite a lot, it would seem,” Gwendolyn said, eyeing their body language with an inscrutable expression.

Pierce cleared his throat, and Marcus smothered a laugh. Jane gave the supermodel a scowl.

“How about we hit the road, folks?” Dolly suggested.

The stampede for Sam's truck left llamas blinking in their wake.

S
am held the door open for Merry's family, then snuck a kiss on her neck as she passed him as well. “Hang in there, honey,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

“I'm trying.” Merry looked around the diner. At least there'd be plenty of warmhearted folks to dilute her parents' chilling influence. Every booth was taken, and several tables had been pushed together to make a communal seating area running the length of the restaurant. The Happy Hookers were represented by Randi, Rebecca, Pam, and Sage, all sitting together at one end of the community table, wearing their finest fiber arts. Steve and Mazel were at the other, and Federico had joined them, talking earnestly with them about something Merry suspected had to do with a certain “side business.” Mikey and Bernardo were sitting with their parents at one of the booths, and Joey was with a woman who looked tired but determined, and kept stroking his hair as if he might disappear at any moment. Those who weren't sitting were clumped around the café in little clusters, chatting.

Café Con Kvetch was bursting at the seams.

Its owner was unraveling.

For the first time since Merry had known him, Needlepoint Bob looked less than sanguine. He had an apron slung haphazardly about his paunch, and a hairnet was doing little to tame his salt-and-pepper mane. His eyes were wild as he hustled up to them.

“Dolly, I need you,” he blurted.

Dolly's eyes widened.

“You're the only person who can save Thanksgiving,” he declared. “Feliciana had an existential crisis this morning, up and quit with the turkeys half-baked. 'Nesto took off in a show of solidarity, so now I'm in the weeds up to my neck. We've got no one to bus or bartend, and half the town showed up in search of sustenance.”

The Mannings exchanged glances. Merry looked around the restaurant. The natives were definitely getting restless.

“Overwhelmed, eh?” Dolly took a moment to relish Bob's discomfiture. “No way to feed your charges? Heavens, I can't imagine how
that
feels.”

“Revenge may be a dish best served cold,” Bob sighed, “but stuffing's better piping hot.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a searching look. “Please, Dorothy.”

Dolly gave a put-upon huff, but her eyes were alight with energy. “Show me to the kitchen,” she ordered. “And no philosophizing while we cook, or I'll show
you
hot stuffing.”

Bob blew out a breath of relief. “Whether in this life or the next, you'll find your karmic reward.” Now that help was on the way, some of his customary poise returned, and he seemed to see the rest of their party for the first time. “You must be the Mannings. Sam said you were coming.” He pressed his hands together in a quick Buddhist salute. “Welcome, and thank you for the gift of your daughter. She's brought a lot of joy to us here in Aguas Milagros these last few weeks.” He turned to Sam. “Sam, can you play bartender?”

“Sure.” Sam shrugged out of his coat, hung his hat on a hook by the door.

“I think we could all do with a drink,” said Pierce. “Single malt, if you have it?”

Sam nodded. “I'll see what we've got back there. White wine for you, Gwendolyn?”

“Vodka martini, and make it a double, if you please.”

“An ultralight beer for me, Sam,” said Marcus.

“Hit me up with a shot of tequila when you get a chance,” Merry side-mouthed to Sam. “Or maybe just bring the bottle.” Out loud she said, “How about I get the tables set, and some snacks going round so folks don't get too hungry while you finish up in the kitchen. You've got some bar snacks stashed away, haven't you, Bob?”

Bob nodded gratefully.

“I'll grab the nibbles,” said Jane, shrugging off her jacket.

“I'll help you,” offered Marcus.

“
You
can check coats,” Jane told him. “Since you're basically a walking clotheshorse anyhow.”

To Merry's surprise, Marcus meekly did as bid. And was that a hint of a blush on his high cheekbones?

“What would you like us to do?” Pierce asked Bob, piling his and Gwendolyn's outerwear in the hapless Marcus's arms.

“Oh, you guys don't have to do anything, Dad,” Merry answered for him. “Just find a seat and make yourselves comfortable.”

“Nonsense, Merry,” Gwendolyn said. Her spine was steel. “I'm sure we're not as useless as all that.”

“Well in that case…how about you help me with the place settings?”

My father earned his stripes in the diplomatic corps. Over decades of dedicated service, he's brokered peace between feuding tribes, forged bonds between entrenched enemies, fostered understanding amongst the estranged.

His mission today? Find common ground with the folks of Aguas Milagros.

With a little help from his lovely wife.

Gwendolyn glided about the café as if born to waitress, graceful as the figure skater she'd once been. She set tables and arranged glassware—even slipping outside for a moment and returning with her arms full of autumn boughs, which she arranged into centerpieces the guests all oohed and aahed over. Pierce, meanwhile, pored over the jukebox until he found music to set the mood, settling on some Bing Crosby. Sam made sure everyone was liberally supplied with libations, and very quickly the atmosphere grew more convivial. Marcus, Merry noticed, spent most of his time attempting to catch Jane's eye. From the kitchen came the sounds of pots clanking, food sizzling, and two old friends slinging good-natured insults while they saved the day for Aguas Milagros.

I may survive this meal after all
, Merry thought as her family rejoined her.

“Hey, Mer-Ber, who're the squares?” Steve Spirit Wind wanted to know.

Or not.

SSW studied the Mannings. “I'm getting a heavy vibe here. I think they could benefit from our product,” he confided to his woman.

“You speak truth,” Mazel concurred. “My fellow travelers in the light, in the spirit of this holiday—and ignoring, for the moment, the insult to our Native American brethren—we would like to offer you a gift.” She rummaged in her macramé tote and came up with a mini bong and a baggie containing an unmistakable herb. “It's a special blend of our own. Also great for waking the appetite—not that we'll need help in that department with Dolly in the kitchen.”

Marcus stepped in front of his openmouthed parents. “Allow me to accept on their behalf,” he said.

Mazel gave Marcus a look that said something had woken
her
appetite. Steve offered him a distinctly less friendly appraisal, and changed the subject. “Our Merry's been a real gift to this town,” he told the Mannings, using nearly the same verbiage Bob had. “Brought a breath of fresh air into the place—and I ought to know about that!”

“This is Steve Spirit Wind,” Merry explained to her nonplussed parents. “And Mazel Tov, his, er…”

“His more enlightened half,” Mazel finished for her. “Be welcome, travelers.” Before they could fend her off, she'd enveloped the Mannings in a patchouli-scented embrace. Steve came around the other side and sandwiched them in, squeezing until Merry heard her mother squeak.

She started to rescue her parents from the hippies' embrace, but was foiled when she was engulfed in hugs herself. Mikey and Bernardo jumped her, hanging off her like a jungle gym, eager to introduce their parents. Joey trailed them more shyly, while the woman she'd seen earlier stood uncertainly behind him.

“Check it out, Ms. Manning, look what I got!” Mikey stuck a foot out, clad in top-of-the-line winter boots. The rest of his clothing was new too, and scrupulously clean.

“You should see the space-age sleeping bag I scored,” Bernie chimed in. “Don't tell Sammy, but it
totally
beats a bag of leaves.” He cast a sheepish glance at Sam, who was slinging brewskis behind the bar.

“Our folks want to meet you,” Mikey said, waving the adults over. Merry stuck her hand out…and was pulled into more backslapping hugs.

A man with hair as wild and woolly as Bernie's gave her a breathtaking squeeze, then introduced himself and his wife. “Lou and Lydia Ruis,” he said. “Our son can't stop bragging about how he's famous on the Internet! Now he and Mikey want to take computer classes so they can have their own blog.”

“
Column
, Dad,” Bernie said.

“We've never seen the kids so enthusiastic about anything,” said Lydia. “We spoke with the mayor and he's going to see about getting better Internet around here, and one of the schoolteachers from Angel Fire is going to come teach classes once a week.”

“That's amazing,” Merry said, seeing the excitement on the kids' faces.

The other parents nodded shyly. “Thank you for what you've done for our boy,” said Mikey's mother, a chubby brunette who introduced herself as Melissa. “We've seen such a change in him these past weeks. He's trying harder in school. More outgoing. Confident.”

“
Mom
,” groaned Mikey. “Embarrassing much?” But he didn't look embarrassed. He looked proud.

His dad ruffled his hair. “Anyhow, we're glad you came, and we hope you'll stay awhile longer in Aguas Milagros.” He beamed at Merry's parents. “You must be so proud of your daughter.”

“Oh…ah, yes, of course,” said Pierce. He patted Merry's back. “Very proud.”

Ha
, Merry thought. If Gwendolyn had her way, she'd probably be airlifted out of Aguas Milagros by commandos before dessert was served. “I hope I
can
stay,” she said. She extended her hand to the nervous-looking woman, who was still hanging back behind Joey. “And you are?”

“Joey's mother,” said the woman, coming forward shyly. “Christa Ramirez. I wanted to thank you for what you did for me too.”

“What I did for you?” Merry was confused.

“You woke me up, Ms. Manning. Made me realize how much my Joey needs me.” She stroked the boy's hair again, her eyes damp with tears. “I haven't always been the best mother, but I want to be there for him now.” And before Merry could react, the smaller woman threw her arms around her too.

If hug collecting were a job, I'd be out of debt in no time
, she thought, patting the wraithlike Christa on the back.

And speaking of backs, Merry could feel laser-like eyes on
hers
. She turned to see her mother watching her with a peculiar expression on her face.
I don't even want to know what that look means
, she thought. She turned back to the kids.

“Where are Zelda and Thaddeus?” she asked Bernie.

“Zel dragged Thad to her parents' place for Thanksgiving,” he said. “Poor sap.”

Mikey snickered. “T and Z, sitting in a tree…Better him than you or me!”

Merry smiled, but a thunderous voice brought her up short.

“Woman, why aren't you wearing that sweater I gave you?!”

Merry glanced around, and saw Randi bearing down on her.
Oh, no
, she thought. “Randi, I'm so sorry…I had to cut it up…”

“You
what?!
” Randi feigned fury for a moment, then burst out laughing. “I'm just messing with you, woman. L'il Bill wears it well! Hey, these your folks?” She slapped Merry on the back. “You did great with this one, y'all. Can we keep her?”

“Really, Randi. Try not to look like a lunatic in front of Merry's parents,” suggested Rebecca, who had come up behind her fellow hooker. Today her braids had been adorned with autumn leaves, giving her a fairy-queen-ish feel. She held her hand out. “I'm Rebecca Donovan. We've been delighted to have Merry here in our town. You must be so proud of your daughter.”

“Of course,” Gwendolyn said stiffly, accepting the handshake. “And what do you do here, Ms. Donovan?”

“I'm the town historian,” she said. “I keep the archives for Aguas Milagros.”

Gwendolyn looked intrigued. “I'm something of an amateur historian myself,” she said. “I run an institute dedicated to historical preservation. You may have heard of it—the Hollingsworth Heritage Foundation?”

“I can't say I have, but I'd be happy to hear about it now.” Rebecca put an arm around Gwendolyn. “How about you join me at the visitor center down the street while we wait for dinner? It's where we keep all the old records, for want of a better location. I'd love to pick your brain.” She turned to Merry. “You won't mind if I steal your mother for a bit, will you?”

Merry stifled the several things she wanted to say. “Feel free.”

The two women disappeared out the door. Was it her imagination, or did the temperature inside Bob's café warm up a degree?

Marcus was certainly feeling the heat. The mayor had sidled up to him, placing a hand on Marcus's biceps. “Merry, who is this charming young man?”