Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley (12 page)

“Good night.” He waved and closed the door behind him.

Kate sighed. They were raising a self-sufficient young man. Why was it so difficult for a mom to accept that her son might not need her so much?

Inside, her dad was asleep in his big recliner, and her mom was crocheting while watching TV. Barney trotted over to greet her, smelling her legs with interest.

“You smell the French fries, boy?” Kate asked, rubbing his hips as he walked between her legs.

Christina looked up. “Kate, how was your shift?”

“Okay,” she said, tucking her legs beneath her on the couch. “Lots of whispers as people wonder what I'm doing there, but that was anticipated. I even saw Lyndsay, and as I told Tony, I think we have a truce.”

“Oh, that's good. I know you've missed her.”

“I don't think I've talked about her,” Kate said in confusion.

“And you haven't really talked about another best friend, so I thought maybe no one had taken her place.”

Kate nodded slowly, for that was true.

“I heard something tonight about Ethan,” Christina continued. “Mrs. Thalberg called me—the eldest Mrs. Thalberg,” she amended, smiling.

“I know the widows had Ethan this evening. I just saw him and he seemed fine.”

“Apparently he let slip that the ski club wants him to be on one of the competitive teams rather than the rec team.”

“Well, that's exciting,” Kate said in confusion. “I'm surprised he didn't tell me.”

“Mrs. Thalberg said he plans to turn them down, which is probably why he didn't call you.”

“But why? Did he tell her?”

“Apparently he was reluctant to do so, but at last he admitted he'd have to be in Aspen every weekend to train.”

The pain in Kate's stomach surprised her as she thought about her son living in two different households in two different towns, unable to spend enough time with one team.

Christina reached over and touched her hand. “I'm sorry, honey. There are so many times when we want something for our kids, and they just can't have it. Obviously Ethan knows what's important, and that's being with you.”

Kate nodded. “He's a good, thoughtful kid. But . . . damn, I feel bad about this.”

“Surely there are teams in Vail.”

“Same problem—he's not there enough to train with them.”

“Maybe he doesn't even want to compete. It might simply be fun for him.”

Kate nodded, but her heart ached. Of course he'd stayed in Valentine the occasional weekend for some big event, but on a regular basis, it just wouldn't work out.

She went to her bedroom soon after, but she wasn't really tired. She just didn't want to see her mom's sympathetic glances. Barney had come with her, and as she roamed around the room restlessly, he lay down with his head on his paws and just watched her. The walls still held some childhood pictures, championship teams she and her brothers had been on, marching band competitions. She smiled at a picture of her and Lyndsay, arms around each other, their instruments in their hands. It made her wonder where her trombone was, and to her surprise, it was right there in the closet, tucked behind her mom's summer wardrobe. Kate's own clothes were crammed in there, too, getting wrinkled.

She'd given up the trombone in college, not because she hadn't liked it but because she'd had no time. Ethan's schedule was making him give up something he might love—but it wasn't by his choice.

She sighed, feeling dispirited as she changed into flannel pajamas and crawled into bed. She had to leave the door open so Barney could wander the house when he wanted. Lots of privacy, she thought.

Sleep eluded her, and she found herself thinking of Tony, although she'd deliberately pushed him from her mind when she'd gotten home so her mother wouldn't suspect anything.

God, she was hiding a relationship when there really wasn't one, except as exes and parents to Ethan.

But he was right next door.

The kiss surfaced in her mind like the heat of a volcano, spilling over to make her feel uncomfortably hot, even in the dead of winter. She threw back the blanket and comforter with a groan and stared into the darkness.

How could she feel this way after all these years? She walked around the room, but the cold only invigorated her. As she moved past the window, the curtain still drawn back so she could see the moon, she caught a glimpse of a lit window next door.

Don't look
, she told herself, but too late. She stopped and saw Tony, standing backlit in his bedroom window, staring at her. With a groan she ducked to the side. Maybe he hadn't seen her. Unable to control herself, she peered around the edge—and he waved at her.

She closed the curtains and got back in bed, pulling the covers over her head.

She couldn't live next door to him anymore. She needed her own closet, she needed a little space to breathe without anyone asking her questions, needed a place where Ethan could come be with her and not feel that he should just run home to sleep. She needed her own place.

A
t nine in the morning, just after she got back from her run through the freshly fallen snow, Kate received a call from her colleague Michelle Grady asking for insight on the GAC Biochemical project. Kate told her as much as she could, but she was finding it difficult to hold back on the exact problem that was a private matter between her and the partners. She almost spilled the “undocumented file” issue, and stopped herself just in time. But it was gnawing at her night and day—she was going to have to do something about it. But what would keep her out of trouble with the senior partners? She'd been paralyzed for the last week, but she couldn't stay that way anymore. They wanted her to rethink her priorities—but wasn't one of her priorities public health?

She arrived at Tony's before it opened to take her turn sweeping and mopping the floors. The first person she saw in the kitchen was Chef Baranski. She held her breath, waiting for him to mention the kiss he'd seen, but all he did was grunt and nod and continue the food prep for the day. Maybe it really wasn't a big deal to anyone but her.

She calmed herself, then leaned her head into Tony's office, where he was working on the computer. He turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, she could have gotten lost in the sexy awareness she saw there. And then he looked away, and she could breathe again.

“How's your battle wound?” she asked.

He pointed to the new bandage on his right cheek. “You did a good job. It's healing.”

“Great. Can I talk to you about Ethan?” She pulled in a chair from the hall.

“What's up?”

She explained what her mom had told her about Ethan and the ski club. “So what do we do?”

He lounged back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. “Do? I'd say that unless Ethan comes to us, we don't do anything. He's a smart kid. I'm sure he's probably seen this coming.”

“But I feel terrible!”

“Did he seem angry when you spoke with him?”

“Well . . . no,” she admitted.

“This isn't the first time he's been affected by living in two different places. And it won't be the last. Maybe he doesn't even care about competing.”

“If he didn't care, why did he mention it to the widows?”

He shrugged. “I don't know what to tell you, Kate.”

She got to her feet restlessly, but there was nowhere to pace except around her chair. “I still feel terrible.”

“Because we're divorced? Don't. We've done the best we can, and he's a good kid. We're doing something right.”

She nodded, but the ache in her chest made her eyes sting. At times like this, she questioned every decision she'd ever made.

“I'll never forget when he was little,” she began in a soft voice, “and I was still in school, and he'd cry when we had to leave Valentine.”

“He was a toddler,” Tony said patiently. “He understands everything now.”

Kate leaned on the back of the chair, squeezing the top of it. “And then there was that time when he was three and we heard him telling his teddy bear in a little stern voice that he had to do homework and couldn't play.” She shuddered and squeezed back the tears. “He was sounding just like me. In some ways, I'm glad he doesn't see me working long hours evening after evening. I don't want him to be . . . driven, unable to really relax. You know, like me.”

“He's got the best of both of us,” Tony said gently.

“Sometimes I think my determination to provide for his future really backfired in his present.”

Tony didn't say anything for a moment; he just looked at her. She tried to master her emotions, but lately, they were always so close to the surface.

“I think you're letting your work issues affect your private life too much,” he said at last. “Don't second-guess every decision we've ever made. He's a good kid everyone likes, and he's not in trouble. We've done okay so far. And if he brings up the competitive snowboarding,
then
we'll see how he feels and deal with it.”

She nodded. “Okay, thanks. I guess I'll go . . . stock the sugar caddies.”

She should really try to emulate Tony in this—she was the worrier, always so focused on the future. He didn't angst over a problem until it actually happened and needed to be solved. He very much lived in the present. His attitude used to annoy her, but lately, she'd give anything to just enjoy things as they happened.

She was pleasantly distracted when the widows came to Tony's Tavern for a committee meeting. They were part of the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund committee, the main worker bees, according to Kate's mom. They fund-raised for grant money to redevelop historic buildings, and they also did their best to support local businesses rather than chain stores, all of which helped Valentine attract tourists and be a good family place to live. Kate was all for that.

“Kate, so you
are
workin' here!” Mrs. Palmer cried with her thick Western accent.

Kate blushed as other customers looked around, but she didn't worry that Mrs. Palmer meant to offend. “Yes, ma'am. I needed something to do.”

“I do hope things are going well with your law firm,” Mrs. Thalberg said, her eyes full of warmth and worry.

“I'm just taking some time off,” Kate said, hoping she sounded reassuring rather than defensive.

The ladies bustled into the back room, Mrs. Thalberg carrying a large bag with a notebook sticking out, Mrs. Ludlow moving slowly with her walker, Mrs. Palmer sashaying in a Christmas dress with elves in the pattern. Kate wondered if she wore a different holiday-themed outfit every day of the Christmas season . . .

“Just water's fine for now, Kate,” said Mrs. Thalberg. “We're waiting on a few more committee members.”

Mrs. Ludlow proceeded to pull a knitting project out of her bag.

“Would you ladies like a menu?”

“I always order the same thing—fish and chips,” Mrs. Ludlow said, glancing at Kate through her glasses. “And please keep an eye out for Eileen Sweet, Katherine dear. You know what she looks like?”

“Sure, she owns the Sweetheart Inn. But I have to say—I never thought she'd step foot in a tavern.”

Mrs. Palmer frowned. “She's not a member of the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund, but she's helped out with the Christmas market. We may not agree on everythin', but she has the town's best interests at heart. Have you visited the market yet, Kate?”

“Not yet, but I plan to. Thank goodness we still have a few weeks until Christmas.”

“You need to come for your Christmas shoppin', your decoratin', or just to people watch,” Mrs. Palmer said, her eyes full of delight. “Tony even has a booth where he sells hot spiced wine.”

“I didn't know that,” Kate said.

“Oh, he hired a few people part-time to man it,” Mrs. Thalberg explained.

“And we advertise for him on Facebook,” Mrs. Ludlow said, “which is a good thing, because he never does so for himself.”

Kate blinked rapidly, trying to keep from grinning at the thought of the seventy-something widows navigating Facebook. “Wait a minute—he advertises. He has a website, I've seen it.”

“Yes, but the new wave of advertising is on Facebook,” Mrs. Ludlow explained patiently, as if Kate had been a new student. “Tony says the website is enough, that his customers find him. I keep explaining that he could have more customers, but apparently he doesn't agree.”

Kate tried to imagine this conversation between the sweet white-haired lady and Tony. It made her want to giggle.

“Yes, I happen to agree with you, Connie,” said another woman from behind Kate.

Kate turned around to see the formidable Mrs. Eileen Sweet, matriarch of the Sweetheart Inn and ranch. She was dressed elegantly in lavender, her black coat over one arm. She held the coat out to Kate, who took it and hung it on the coat hooks along the back wall. When Kate turned around, she saw Mrs. Thalberg frowning at Mrs. Sweet.

“She's our server, not a coat check girl,” Mrs. Thalberg said dryly.

Mrs. Sweet stiffened, eyeing the other woman with narrowed eyes from beneath the brim of her equally elegant hat.

Kate didn't want to be the cause of any arguments. “Ladies, please, I don't mind. We're kind of slow right now anyway. I'll hang all your coats. You don't want them falling off onto the floor—although I did mop it this morning.”

They tried to protest, but she ignored them, then brought water and menus before escaping once again.

Out near the bar, she saw Tony talking to his dad. Tony caught sight of her, and she overheated with embarrassment about what they'd been doing last night.

“Hi, Mr. De Luca,” she said, forcing cheerfulness.

Tony raised an eyebrow at her, and she told herself to take it down a notch.

Mr. De Luca nodded at her. “Kate, nice to see you. Are the widows in the back room?”

“They are. Are you on their committee, too?”

“Yep. And in Rosemary's poker club, too.”

“Mrs. Thalberg plays poker.” Kate mentally added this new twist to her perception of the little old ladies.

Tony eyed his dad. “And he's been teaching Sunday school with
Rosemary
for years now.”

His dad eyed him back. “And that's a bad thing?”

Tony raised both hands. “Not at all, Dad.”

Mr. De Luca ambled toward the back room.

“What was that about?” Kate asked, leaning on the bar.

She noticed Tony's gaze dip to her barely visible cleavage, but he looked away before she could elbow him.

“Just teasing him,” he said. “I know for certain when I was a kid he never dated anyone after Mom's death.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “I don't know how you can know that for certain.”

“Well, you have me there. But I'm pretty certain. He dated occasionally in his sixties, but nothing serious.”

“You worried he's lonely?”

Tony shrugged. “A bit.” He looked toward the back room. “But he certainly knows a lot of women.”

Kate eyed him. “
Tsk tsk
. Those ladies made you sound like you're in the dark ages because they advertised your Christmas booth on Facebook
for
you.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“Social media—it's everywhere, Tony.”

“Look, I have a website for the tavern, and I even have my personal page on Facebook.”

“But only because Ethan dragged you on kicking and screaming. He told me.”

Tony chuckled. “Okay, so it's kinda fun to see people's boarding photos and stuff like that. But anyone can see my list of events on the website, or on posters hung in the windows.”

“What kind of events?”

“You'll be working one—the Broncos Brunch. We're really busy on Sundays during football season.”

She leaned against the bar and eyed him curiously. “What else do you do?”

“We have a pub crawl, where a couple of local bars get together and advertise each other's special drinks for a night. We have a trivia night occasionally, and a live band on weekdays to draw more customers in. It's been working.”

“Sure, but you could always do more. Facebook lets you notify your regular customers, who might then remember to tell their friends.”

“Uh-huh. What are you, a Facebook salesman?”

“No, just a new employee who thinks you could increase your customer base.”

His smile faded a bit as he studied her. “I'll take it under advisement. Maybe you should go back and take the widows' orders.”

“I hear Chef ringing the bell.”

“I'll run the food. Don't keep those ladies waiting, or they'll dis me on Facebook.”

She chuckled and went into the back room. The orders were swiftly taken, and then she got to hear them praise this year's new Christmas market idea, where a percentage of the profits went to the preservation fund. They all were in agreement, however much they seemed to rub each other the wrong way in their personal lives. Or to be honest, how Mrs. Sweet rubbed certain ladies the wrong way.

“So,” said Mrs. Thalberg an hour later as Kate began to pick up their dirty dishes, “how do your parents feel about you working for the competition?”

Kate froze with the first plate in her hand. “Well, I never thought of it that way. I guess I don't consider a bar as competing against an Italian restaurant. Each serves a different need, don't you think?”

“True,” Mrs. Sweet said. “Just as I don't consider an Italian restaurant as competition for the restaurant at the inn. There's room for many varieties.”

Kate wasn't sure that was a compliment—she saw by Mrs. Palmer's expression that the lady was
certain
it wasn't—but she let it go.

Mrs. Sweet eyed her with interest. “Your family must think it strange that not only are you working for a rival but he's also your ex-husband.”

“We've always remained on decent terms for our son's sake.”

“And does it not make for awkward situations?” Mrs. Sweet asked.

Kate prayed she was not blushing, and she deliberately avoided looking at Mr. De Luca. “Not awkward, no. Although let me set the record straight. Regardless of what you might hear, I did not lose my job, and I am not broke.”

The ladies chuckled.

“Tony tells me he challenged her when she had nothing to do,” Mr. De Luca said. Then he eyed Kate with approval. “Looks like you proved you could handle yourself.”

She hoped her smile wasn't as lame as it felt. “Thanks.”

“Nothing to do?” Mrs. Sweet asked sharply. “Aren't you on vacation?”

“A two-month sabbatical.”

Mrs. Sweet looked skeptical, but before she could say anything else, Tony stepped into the doorway. “Kate? You have another table.”

She took as many dirty dishes as she could handle. “I'll be back in a little while. Hope your meeting is going well.”