A Promise to Keep Read online

  “Let me know.” On that, he ended the call in his typically abrupt way and she went back to answering her emails. Two cups of coffee later, she’d finished. She paid the bill and headed out.

  The clouds had blown away. The sky was a bright blue, the air brittle and cold even through her leather jacket. She debated driving back up the mountain to see if Lambert had suddenly become “available,” but decided against it. In the note she’d left, she said she’d return the next day. Whether or not Otis Lambert stood by his words, she would stand by hers. Ambushing a man who was ill just wasn’t her style.

  She drove to the far side of town, where Shop-World was located and where she knew the cell signal was the strongest of anywhere in town. She found an available parking spot in a sunny corner and pulled out her laptop. Even though she knew the contents of the Rambling project file backward and forward, she read through it again while she called the State Geological Survey. The woman on the phone told her that Lambert had made no report of the landslide. Strictly speaking, he didn’t have to. The only thing that appeared to have been impacted had been the road. His private road.

  Nevertheless, she retrieved all the history she could of geological events that had occurred in the area and sent the information in a summarized email to her boss.

  By the time she finished, she was colder than ever from sitting in her idle car and the bright lights of Shop-World were beckoning. She put away her computer and grabbed her wallet and headed toward the busy supersized store. She went first to the clothing department and found an inexpensive, insulated coat. She added a knit scarf with a matching beanie and gloves to her armload, and then swung by the grocery department to grab some chocolate, because—well, there never needed to be a specific reason for chocolate.

  Her phone buzzed and she juggled her armload as she pulled it from the pocket of her jacket. Another message from her boss. While Gage was unfailingly brief verbally, the same couldn’t be said when it came to his texts and email messages.

  Reading through his latest, she headed toward the registers at the front of the store only to bump right into a pyramid of paper towels. She cursed under her breath, dropping the coat and scarf and trying to keep the entire display from toppling. She managed, but several rolls escaped her, and she chased after them, snatching them up.

  “...and that’s why I keep telling you to watch where you’re going,” she heard a woman say as a noisy cart rumbled past her.

  “And that’s why we should keep our noses out of our phones,” April mumbled after her, meeting the little boy’s eyes as he trotted after his mama. He smiled at her and she couldn’t help smile back as she stuffed one roll after another back onto the now-lopsided pyramid.

  “You missed one.”

  She looked up, first at the extended roll of towels. Then the long, square-tipped fingers grasping it. The masculine wrist beyond. Her stomach was sinking even before she got to his face.

  She grabbed her items and straightened from her graceless crouch, taking the roll from him to set on the pile. Brown, she realized. His eyes were a deep dark, chocolate brown. “Mr. Dalloway.”

  And there was definitely a bite of amusement in those eyes, even though it didn’t translate to any other part of his face. Maybe he wasn’t handsome in a conventional sense. But he was definitely arresting.

  “Miss Reed.” He turned on his boot heel and started to walk away.

  She renewed her grip on her items and followed. “I left my card for your boss,” she said to his back. She was purchasing a cheap coat. He only wore the same clothes he’d worn earlier that day as if he were impervious to the cold weather. “I told him I’d be returning tomorrow.”

  His shoulders moved impatiently and he stopped to look at her. Lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, and she could tell he spent a lot of time squinting in the sun. She had a dozen relatives who possessed those exact same kind of lines.

  But what put the lines around his tightly held lips?

  “Another day’s not going to matter,” he was saying. “He’s not going to see you tomorrow. Or any other day. He’s not selling. And definitely not to a developer.”

  He wasn’t saying anything that her grandfather hadn’t already said. She wanted to believe Jed as little as she wanted to believe Squire. “Then why’d he ask to meet with Stanton Development?”

  “Why does Otis do any of the things he does?” He spread his hands and she noticed then the small brown prescription bottle he held. “Not even sure Otis himself knows.”

  “You, ah, you run the ranch for him, don’t you? The Rambling Rad. Are you afraid of losing your job?”

  His lips twisted. “He’s not going to sell, Miss Reed. My involvement with the ranch, such as it is, is as immaterial to him as it is to you.”

  “It’s not immaterial! I assure you, the company I work for isn’t about putting people out of work. It’s about creating more opportunities!”

  His expression didn’t change. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. “My advice would be to go back to Colorado. Focus your efforts on greener pastures.” He turned to go again.

  “I’m sorry that he’s ill, Mr. Dalloway.”

  He didn’t look back. “So am I, Miss Reed.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, watching him step around a Shop-World employee stocking a shelf with Easter candy. He was aiming for the pharmacy.

  If she were really a bloodthirsty developer, she’d race for her car to get up the mountain for a chance to get to Otis before Jed could.

  Instead, she joined the lines at the registers, paid for her items and drove back out to the big house.

  By the time she let herself in through the back door, it was nearly dark outside and the smell of home cooking was heady.

  Everyone was already seated around the kitchen table and she dumped off her briefcase and purchases in the mudroom before washing her hands and joining them. “Sorry I’m late.” She slipped into the empty chair next to her grandmother.

  “Don’t be silly.” Gloria handed her a steaming platter piled high with roasted vegetables and beef. “We just sat down anyway.”

  April took the platter and scooped a helping onto her plate. Despite the lunch at Colbys, her stomach was already growling. “Smells wonderful.” She passed it on to Matthew, who was at the head of the table. “At the rate I’m eating, I won’t fit in my clothes by the time I go back to Denver.”

  Squire snorted. He was at the other end of the table. “Too thin as it is. Could stand some meat on your bones. Just like your mama.”

  Gloria tsked. “Leave her alone.”

  April didn’t bother hiding her smile as her grandfather harrumphed. Squire Clay might have the sternest face imaginable, but he was a complete softie where his grandchildren and great-grandchildren were concerned. Whether they were grown like April, or still young, he was guaranteed to be their biggest partner in crime. Which was pretty sweet, considering the stories April had grown up with about what a hard-ass he’d been as a father.

  “I thought I’d go see Aunt Belle soon,” she told Gloria. “If you want to come?” Belle and April’s mother, Nikki, were twins. “I’ll see if Lucy can join us, too.” Lucy was Belle’s stepdaughter.

  “It’s a plan.” Gloria smiled.

  Eventually, talk turned to ranch business, and April let it wash over her as she worked her way through her food.

  “How’d things go up on the mountain?”

  The question was inevitable, of course. She gave her grandfather a grimace. “Like you expected.”

  “Sorry to be right, girl.”

  “No you’re not,” Matthew scoffed, giving April a wink. “You love being right.”

  “When I’m dealing with sons who don’t know their heads from a hole in the ground,” Squire shot back without heat.

  “Regardless, I’m not giving up,” April
assured them.

  “Damn straight,” Squire said, nodding approvingly. “This family never gives up.”

  “True,” Gloria said brightly, giving her husband a deliberate look. “Which is why I’ve sent in our RSVP for the fund-raiser.” She extended a basket of golden rolls toward him. “Two will be attending.”

  His brows pulled down. He ignored the basket. “I told you we were not going to that thing.”

  The hand holding the basket didn’t move an inch. “And I told you that we were.”

  His lips thinned.

  There had always been plenty of standoffs between her grandparents so April knew better than to worry as the tension between them thickened. “What’s the fund-raiser for?”

  “New library,” Jaimie said. “Vivian’s latest project. She’s hosting a big do at her home. Has invited half the state, from what I hear.”

  Understanding hit. Squire detested anything related to Vivian Templeton. And he considered the lavish home that she’d built to be an eyesore. “Building a new library is a good thing, though.”

  “And long past due,” Gloria said in agreement. “The one we have occupies that small two-story down by the town square and it’s nowhere near large enough anymore to serve the entire town. Enlarging the present location isn’t feasible, so that means finding a way to build a new one.” She was still giving her husband a stern eye and the basket of rolls was still extended. “Regardless of who is spearheading the effort.”

  He grimaced. “Doesn’t mean I am going to go out to her house and pretend we’re all friends.” He snatched away the basket, grabbed a roll and pointed it at Matthew. “That woman shunned your mama,” he reminded before slapping the roll down on his plate.

  “Before we were born,” Matthew said mildly.

  “S’pose that means you’re going, too?” Squire looked even more annoyed.

  “Squire, Vivian has made some significant contributions in the few years since she moved here,” Jaimie tried in a pacifying tone. “The new hospital wing, the—”

  “People like her can always throw money at a cause,” he cut her off. “Thinking it covers up what they’re really like.”

  “Vivian isn’t trying to cover up anything,” Gloria said wearily. “She’s been perfectly honest about regretting the things she’s said and done in the past. She’s apologized. You’re the one who won’t accept it. And if you won’t go with your own wife to the fund-raiser, I’ll find someone who will.” She pushed away from the table and stomped out of the room.

  Squire cursed under his breath and stomped out of the room, too. A second later, they heard the back door slam as he left the house.

  Standoffs between her grandparents were normal. Walking away in opposite directions was not.

  Alarm gurgling inside her, April looked from her aunt’s face to her uncle’s. “Should we go after them?”

  “Not if you want to keep your head attached to your body,” Matthew advised.

  Jaimie got up and began clearing the dishes. “They’ll be fine,” she soothed. “Squire must feel like he’s on the losing end of the battle where everyone’s acceptance of Vivian is concerned. You know him. That just isn’t going to sit well.”

  April handed Jaimie the roll basket. “Was what she did really so bad?”

  “You know what Squire is like when it comes to family,” Matthew said. “When her husband found out that my mom was his illegitimate half sister, Vivian lost it. Those were the days when anyone illegitimate was treated like a pariah, but her husband was all set to bring my mother into the family fold anyway. He died in a car accident before he had a chance to actually do that. Evidently there were rumors it was suicide.”

  “Which Vivian categorically denies.” Jaimie slid her hand over Matthew’s shoulder. “And your mother died when she had Tristan around that same time. One of those weird tragic coincidences.”

  “I can still remember Squire coming home from the hospital with Tris wrapped in a blanket. Alone.” Matthew shook his head and brushed an absent kiss over Jaimie’s knuckles. “Who knows what kind of relationship they might have had if they’d lived.”

  “Even though their marriage was far from perfect, Vivian says her husband loved their sons too much to leave them deliberately,” Jaimie told April.

  “In any case, Squire’s never likely to forgive Vivian for treating my mother the way she did.” Matthew rose with his plate in hand.

  Jaimie spoke gently. “I think Vivian’s contributions around Weaver—the money she’s investing—is a way of atoning for that. She’s going to do what she’s going to do regardless of what anyone—particularly Squire—thinks about it. Since he was elected to the town council, he hasn’t been able to avoid her as much as he’d like to.”

  “He seems to be going to great lengths to avoid her,” said April.

  “Don’t worry about him and your grandma,” Matthew advised. “The old man doesn’t have a lot of things these days to be obstreperous about, so when he has a chance, he really goes at it. He’ll come around if only to appease Gloria.”

  “He can save his appeasing,” Gloria said, sailing into the kitchen in time to overhear. “That coot of mine can just stay home. April will be my date for the fund-raiser, won’t you, dear?”

  “When is it?”

  “Week from Saturday.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I’d be happy to, but I’m not sure I’ll be here that long. Depends how things go with Mr. Lambert.”

  “Well, I want you to succeed, of course,” Gloria said, “but anything that keeps you here with us a little bit longer is just fine with me. Next time you go up the mountain to see Otis, take a covered dish. Have never known two men living on their own to turn down a pretty girl bearing home-cooked food.”

  April groaned. “Grandma, that is so old-fashioned.”

  “Maybe so.” Gloria nodded sagely. “But I’ll bet you it works.”

  Chapter Three

  The next afternoon, April—wearing her new coat and scarf and gloves—went up the mountain again. She was not resorting to her grandmother’s suggestion of taking a covered dish. She wasn’t meeting Lambert for a church potluck dinner, for heaven’s sake.

  But once again, she went back down the mountain after an hour, having failed to get past the front door of that miserable little shack. Like the first time, she spent the rest of the day with her computer and her phone, gathering more research and reporting it all back to Gage.

  That evening, when she got together with some of her cousins at Colbys, she had to recount the effort to meet Lambert yet again. “The only bright spot, if I can call it that,” she said over the hot cider she was drinking, “was that Jed Dalloway wasn’t around this time to witness my failure.”

  “It’s not a failure,” Lucy assured. She was sitting across the tables they’d shoved together to accommodate the number of cousins who kept showing up. “Unless you’re giving up already.”

  “Squire would kick me out from under his roof if I were.” April pulled a crispy French fry from the enormous mound in the center of the tables and dredged it in ketchup. “Not to mention my boss would probably give me the boot, too.” She wasn’t really worried about that, but neither did she want to return to Colorado with nothing to show for it. Not on the very first assignment she’d been charged with heading. She wouldn’t exactly blame Gage if he didn’t repeat the mistake any time soon.

  “I’m sure that wouldn’t happen.” That came from Sarah, who was Matthew and Jaimie’s daughter and taught at the same school as Piper. She kept casting an eye toward the pool tables where her nineteen-year-old daughter, Megan, was playing with friends. “You know the worst part about kids turning nineteen?” She jabbed her French fry in the air. “You lose your ability to ground them when they keep doing dumb things.”

  April looked over toward the group in question. Despite the
cold weather, Megan wore a pair of denim shorts, cowboy boots and a skintight T-shirt. She was blonde and impossibly lovely in the way that only nineteen-year-old girls could be. “What kind of dumb things?”

  “The usual. Staying out too late. Hanging with the wrong crowd.”

  “How does the sheriff’s daughter manage to hang out with the wrong crowd?”

  “Probably because she is the sheriff’s daughter.” The suggestion came from their cousin Courtney as she slipped into a free chair. “Trust one who knows.”

  “Don’t worry so much about Megan,” Lucy soothed. “All of us around that age tested the boundaries. We’ve all come out on the other side more or less intact. And her brother has a good head on his shoulders. Megan always listens to him.”

  April felt the whoosh of cold air when the door started to open and she glanced over, half expecting to see another one of her cousins arriving.

  But the man who entered was no relative of hers.

  And for whatever reason, Jed Dalloway’s focus seemed to land right on her face when he let the door swing closed behind him.

  She felt a rush of heat in her face and quickly looked away, which only made her feel stupid. For all of Vivian Templeton’s fancy fund-raisers for new libraries and such, Weaver was still a small town. Running into familiar faces in public establishments was commonplace.

  A bright peal of laughter rose above the general noise of voices and jukebox music, and April glanced toward the pool tables to see Megan leaning against a young man, laughing merrily. He slid his hand down Megan’s backside. April grimaced and looked away, glad that Sarah hadn’t seen.

  In truth, at twenty-eight, April was as close to Megan’s age as she was to Sarah’s. She felt for both mother and daughter.