Sleigh Bells in Valentine Valley (8 page)

W
hen Kate got home, she curled up on the couch in front of the fire, absently petted Barney, and told her mom all about the tree-lighting ceremony. Her dad had spent the evening at Carmina's, so he'd already gone to bed.

“I can't believe you went to the tavern!” Christina said, shaking her head.

“Well, Emily invited me. She's very nice.”

“And Tony didn't mind.”

“If he did, he didn't show it. He's still such a nice guy, Mom.” She heaved a sigh.

Christina studied her. “What's the sigh for? You almost sound like you regret letting him get away.”

“I didn't say that,” Kate insisted, then turned to stare at the fire, the question surprising her. Her mom usually avoided discussing Tony, unless it was in relation to Ethan. For a long time after the divorce, her mother would have tears in her eyes if Tony's name came up. Kate hadn't taken offense—she'd known her mom had ached for all three of them.

But suddenly she flashed back to what she'd felt earlier in the evening, when she'd seen Tony staring at her butt, as if she'd been teleported back in time to high school. She used to saunter past him in a flouncy skirt, hoping he'd look, wanting to turn him on. And then she'd meet him at his truck, and they'd steam up the windows.

Good God, was
that
why she'd gone to Tony's Tavern tonight? Could Tony think she was flirting with him?
Was
she flirting with him?

That was just wrong, after all they'd gone through. She had to be losing her mind, and this sabbatical had only just started.

“Kate? You've got a weird look in your eyes.”

“Just shock, believe me. Mom, it's been nine years since the divorce, you know. We're finally able to be friendly rather than defensive. Isn't that a good thing?”

“Of course it is, especially for Ethan.”

But Kate's worry that Tony might think she was flirting lingered for a few days. Being with Ethan, yet not twenty-four hours a day, made for the strangest weekend in a long time. Ethan came and went a few times, but he seemed perfectly content. Kate began to wonder if going back to the regular custody schedule would make him resent her, especially if she made him sleep on a couch at his grandmother's.

As he got older, there'd be more events with his friends—how much longer would it be before he resented being away every weekend? She was afraid to think about it before she had to, or even more guilt and worry would consume her.

She got in some time with him by dropping him and his friends off in Aspen and picking them up at the end of the afternoon. That was a few hours in the car for her, but for half of it, she could listen to them talk. She stayed silent, trying to pretend she wasn't there as they discussed girls and teachers and an upcoming snowboarding event. The sound of their voices lifted her spirits for hours afterward.

Her weekend went downhill from there. She worked up the courage to call Michelle Grady, a fellow lawyer at the firm, but Michelle didn't return the call. It was a holiday weekend, Kate reminded herself, but it made her feel nervous, and worried about her clients. She went to Joe's basketball game in Basalt and found herself remembering the rec league they'd once tried to sign Ethan up for. Games had always been on Saturday, with practices during the week, so he couldn't participate. He'd lost out wherever he'd been, making her feel like a terrible mom.

Watching his excitement at being in Valentine for the weekend didn't help. She knew it wasn't about her, but she was feeling particularly vulnerable. She used all the free time to catch up with some friends in Vail and Denver, but talking on the phone wasn't the same as being able to go out for lunch or a drink.

So she thought about Lyndsay—a lot. The woman's cool attitude Friday night hadn't been surprising after all their years of separation, but Kate was surprised that it had hurt. What had she expected? Just because she and Tony were friendly after years of parenting Ethan didn't mean that Lyndsay had to join the friends bandwagon. And hearing about Lyndsay through Tony just wasn't the same for Kate either. She remembered being shocked when Tony had told her that Lyndsay and her longtime college boyfriend had broken up by their midtwenties. Kate had thought they'd last forever. Now she and Lyndsay were in the same boat, never dating a guy for more than a few months. They'd probably have a lot to talk about. But with the way Lyndsay had reacted on seeing her—as if she'd stepped in a puddle of mud—well, Kate didn't think calling would get a response. Maybe if they kept running into each other. . . .

And that was when Kate realized she was already thinking of just staying in Valentine for the whole sabbatical. She kept telling herself to book a vacation somewhere warm for a week, but she couldn't take Ethan away from school—or snowboarding—and didn't want to go without him, not when she had the chance to see him almost every day.

But by Monday, she thought she'd go out of her mind. Everyone went back to work and school, and she was alone but for Barney, who kept her company at home, since the old guy couldn't exactly go for long runs anymore. She read a book. She baked the simplest cookies for Ethan after school like he was six, and he humored her, good son that he was. But she caught his worried looks just the same.

She called her lawyer friend Michelle again—no answer. The partners would never reveal details about her sabbatical, but she still felt paranoid. She kept thinking of that report she wasn't supposed to have seen, and she wished she could talk to someone about it. But obviously her firm didn't want to listen.

Tuesday, on her late-morning run, she passed by Tony's Tavern. Without planning it, she turned around and went inside. Compared to Friday night, it was pretty empty, just a couple people starting an early lunch. No one sat at the bar, behind which Tony stood at the POS computer, his back to her, his head bent, unruly brown hair touching the creased collar of his black polo shirt. She felt a momentary need to straighten it. The thought was so shocking that she was about to leave, when he looked up and saw her. She froze, wondering if she'd overstepped her bounds.

He frowned, but he seemed puzzled, not annoyed. It made her feel braver, so she sat down at the bar and pulled off her winter hat and gloves. She casually ran her hands through her hair to straighten it, and he watched her without saying a word.

“Is something wrong?” When his voice emerged with a husky tone, he cleared his throat.

“May I have a glass of water?” she asked lamely. Dammit, why had she come here?

He poured her one from the tap. “Tough workout?”

She nodded. “They always are. I hate running.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Quick and convenient, keeps me healthy, and holds down the weight.” She held up a hand. “I know, I know, there are ways to have fun and exercise. But this works for me.”

“Do you
have
any fun, Kate?” he asked softly.

For a moment, she didn't know how to answer that. “Every weekend when Ethan is with me.”

“No grown-up fun?”

And then she blushed, though she assumed he didn't mean sex. “I had a pretty good time in here Friday night. I date occasionally at home, too. That's fun.”

He nodded slowly, almost as if he didn't believe her. So she added defensiveness to her feelings of panic and desperation.

“I don't have anything to do,” she finally said in a hushed whisper, her throat tight. “I feel . . . lost. The thing I'm best at—they won't let me do, won't trust my judgment. I'm not even the homemaker type, and I'm cleaning my mother's house every day. I'm running out of stuff to do. I think I'm driving Ethan nuts—and I don't mean to! And now here I am driving you nuts. I'm sorry, I should go.”

He looked at her for a long minute, eyes narrowed in thought, but not anger. Still she didn't go; she only took a long swig of her water.

Then he reached beneath the counter and slid a crumpled apron across to her. “My lunch server, Rhonda—her kid had his appendix out. There's complications, poor little guy, but he'll be okay. She's going to be out a while. Wait tables if you're so bored.”

She stared at him in shock. There was a faint smirk twisting his lips, as if he expected her to turn him down. He knew she hated serving. It was hard, demanding work, and people were difficult to satisfy.

But . . . she was alone all day, with not enough to do. She lifted her head and met his gaze with a challenging one of her own. “Are you offering me a job?”

“A temporary one,” he amended, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't think you'll last.”

She straightened her shoulders. “You've gotta be kidding me. I've never left a job unfinished.” And then she felt a spasm of worry as she remembered her law career, her marriage—the unfinished things in her life. He started to pull the apron back, and she suddenly grabbed it, looking him fiercely in the eyes. “You're on.” She heard the words coming out of her mouth and couldn't regret them, although she wasn't sure why.

His brows lowered. “I'm not kidding around. I need someone right now. You'd need a crash course in the wine and beer we serve, and you'll have to memorize the menu.”

“I remember that from my days at Carmina's. And I don't want to be paid.”

“What? I don't know if that's legal.”

“Then . . . then . . . put it in Ethan's college fund.”

He sighed, nodded, and glanced at the only occupied table. The customers had set down their menus and were talking. “I'll take that order, and then you can watch me input it in the POS, the point-of-sale system.”

“We had one back in the nineties.” She looked down at her lululemon black track pants and purple zip-up, with another layer beneath. She could always go into the restroom and remove the ColdGear if she got too hot. “Do I look okay?”

“I don't compliment the staff.”

She shot him a startled look, and he didn't smile.

“Sexual harassment,” he explained.

“Oh.”

“Wear jeans and a black shirt tomorrow, but for now, you'll do. Put on the apron.”

Kate must really be desperate, because she was actually looking forward to proving to him that she could handle anything. He gestured her to follow him, and she listened as he took the customers' orders, his demeanor laid-back and pleasant as he remembered it all without writing anything down. Back at the POS, he was all business, maneuvering through the various screens and inputting the order. It would be printed out in the kitchen and hung on the line, she remembered.

“So let me introduce you around,” he finally said.

He took her back into the kitchen, where a man and a woman worked the line. The kitchen was clean and tidy, just like at her parents' restaurant, everything in its place between the grill station, the sauté, and the fryer. There was an industrial dishwasher near the door and a walk-in cooler. The man who seemed to be in charge was a burly, tattooed guy with a couple-day-old beard, his long, graying hair pulled back in a ponytail beneath a ball cap.

“Chef Larry Baranski, this is Kate, our new server,” Tony said.

Kate noticed he didn't give her last name.

The chef eyed her. “Is this a joke?” he asked gruffly. “This is your ex.”

“I didn't say she wasn't.” Tony's response was mild. “She's in town for a while and wants to work.”

“You're a lawyer,” Chef Baranski said, speaking directly to her, his bushy brows low over his eyes.

He looked her over like she was a piece of steak gone bad.

“I'm on sabbatical, and I'm bored out of my mind.” Kate tried to sound cheerful and confident.

“So you want to work for
him
?” Chef Baranski pointed at Tony with his thumb.

“It was his idea.”

The chef looked between them for a moment, then shook his head. “I got food to cook. Don't bring your fights into my kitchen.”

“We don't fight,” Kate insisted.

“Uh-huh.”

Tony spoke Spanish as he introduced her to the line cook, Valeria Tamez, who was small and dark and didn't meet Kate's eyes.

When they were back behind the bar, Kate sighed. “I don't think either of them liked me.”

“Valeria probably heard the word ‘lawyer,'” Tony said. “She understands more than you think. Her family has had some trouble, but she's perfectly legal, believe me. As for Chef, I thought he liked you right away.”

Kate eyed him skeptically, but Tony was looking past her to the door, which jingled as it opened.

“Go seat your guests,” he said. “We don't usually have a hostess.”

“Yes, sir.”

After years in a courtroom, Kate wasn't nervous talking to people, so she had no problem chatting up the young couple who'd just come from a winter hiking excursion. She seated them at a two-top (she remembered the lingo!), brought them ice water and menus, and felt Tony watching her the whole time. Well, at least he wasn't looking at her like he had on Friday night, with his eyes all hot and half-lidded. The memory of those eyes had made sleeping difficult that night, and she'd told herself she was going too long between dates. Obviously Tony was, too.

After getting Tony's table another beer and soda refill, she hung out near the wait station, wiping down bottles of ketchup and mustard, until her new customers seemed ready to order. She thought about Tony dating—obviously she knew he did. Ethan even mentioned it occasionally. She hoped their failed marriage hadn't ruined the way he focused on a woman without pressuring her, letting her know with his gaze and his manners that he was into her. Back in the day, he used to make her feel like the sexiest girl alive, the only one he wanted. After victorious football games, he'd take off his helmet, and their eyes would meet as he grinned at her like only she understood how fun a victory was. Because that's all sports had been to him—fun—and she'd had a hard time understanding that. He liked to win, but he was laid-back enough that he didn't take losses personally. He was so . . . different from her in every way, and she recognized that was once part of his appeal. Unlike her, he'd never talked about his future career or what he wanted to do—he'd just assumed it would occur to him eventually. That had shocked her, especially since she'd joined some clubs simply because she'd known they'd look good on her college applications. More and more during their marriage, his lack of ambition had gnawed at her. And now he was running his own successful business, making her rethink her old assumptions.