Susan Mallery - Only His

“Back to the wedding, girls,” Denise said firmly. “We have decisions to make.”

“Sure you don’t want to make this a triple wedding?” Montana asked with a grin. “Come on, Mom. You’re a grandmother. Are you really not going to marry Max?”

“I’d rather not.” Denise’s voice was prim. “However, if you three and the boys think I should, then I’ll consider it. Or if you think it would be better for the grandchildren.”

“I’m not going there,” Nevada said quickly. “It’s your decision, Mom.”

Her sisters nodded their agreement.

Denise sighed. “I prefer to have your father be my only husband. Having said that, Max and I are in love and together.”

Nevada shifted on the floor and fought against the need to cover her ears and hum.

“No details, please,” Dakota inserted quickly, flipping through the bridal magazine on her lap. “Remember?”

Denise grinned. “No details. However, I will warn you that Max is going to be moving in here.”

“Oh, good.” Nevada relaxed a little, now that the threat of sex talk was over. “I thought you might want to move in with him and then sell this house. Which would be okay,” she added quickly. “It’s your house.”

“No.” Her mother shook her head. “It’s the family home and I don’t want to lose it. We have so many memories here. I want Hannah to have her first Christmas with us in this house.”

“What happens to Max’s place?” Dakota asked. “Doesn’t someone have to be there for the dogs?”

Max lived on the same property his business occupied. K9Rx provided therapy dogs to the community.

“We have staff who stay with the dogs at night,” Montana said. “Eventually Max will need to figure out what to do with the main house, but for now Simon and I are going to rent it while we decide what we want to do. Build, buy or remodel. We’re not sure. So this gives us time to make the right choice.”

“You have it all planned out,” Nevada said, wondering when all these decisions had been made. She felt as if she’d been gone a month and the whole world had changed while she was away. But that wasn’t exactly true, she told herself. She hadn’t really been out of touch at all.

“Does Max work?” Dakota asked. “Except for the dogs, I mean? How does he pay for everything?”

Denise smiled smugly. “Max was in Seattle during the eighties. He met Bill Gates and bought Microsoft at the initial public offering.”

Nevada blinked. That would explain a lot, she thought.

“So he’s rich?” Dakota asked.

“Very.”

Montana laughed. “And here I’ve been worried about buying dog food on sale.”

“You can probably let that go,” Nevada told her.

Dakota held up her magazine. “What about this?” she asked.

The wedding gown had an empire waist and long sleeves.

“It’s beautiful,” her mother said. “We really need to go try on dresses. This week, girls. As it is, there are going to be limitations. We don’t have months and months to wait for something to be made.”

“What size are samples?” Montana asked.

“Usually ten or twelve.”

“Then that would work.”

Montana joined her sister on the sofa and they flipped through the magazines, looking at dresses.

“We’re going to have to figure out if we’re having bridesmaids,” Dakota said absently. “Nevada, you’re going to be our mutual maid of honor, right?”

“Sure.”

She’d assumed she would be part of the wedding, although she hadn’t known as what. Her chest tightened a little as she thought of her sisters both getting married while she stood by and watched.

They were both so happy, she reminded herself. They deserved this and she wanted them to have perfect weddings. But every now and then she wanted that for herself, too. A happy ending, love, children. Someone to be in her life.

Not surprisingly, her thoughts drifted to Tucker and the night she’d shared.

Not him, she thought sadly. He believed love was a trap. Convincing him otherwise was unlikely. Unfortunately, he was the first guy in a long time who had captured her interest. She would have to make sure he didn’t capture her heart.

THE BEAUTIFUL FALL AFTERNOON brought out both residents and tourists, Nevada thought as she and Cat strolled through the center of town on Sunday afternoon. The leaves were changing, bringing bright reds and yellows to the trees, dressing up the streets. Fool’s Gold was a place that celebrated every season, every holiday. Although it was several weeks before Halloween, storefronts were a mass of pumpkins and ghosts. Windows had been painted, harvest baskets stood by open doors, and at the center of town was a Thanksgiving diorama with Pilgrims and Native Americans sitting down to a turkey dinner.

The display had been around for as long as Nevada could remember. The clothes were a little tattered and the mannequin faces needed a fresh coat of paint. Still, it was traditional and, in its own way, beautiful.

“I don’t know,” Cat said doubtfully, eyeing the Pilgrims. “They’re not inspiring.”

“The town puts them up every year,” Nevada told her. “It’s tradition.”

Cat looked at the square, turning in a circle as she took in the buildings and the open space. “I think you could do better. Fool’s Gold is such a special place. I can feel the feminine energy. I’m filled with inspiration.”

The temperatures were mild for early October. Mid-sixties, with plenty of blue skies. Mornings were crisp and the higher elevations were already getting frost.

Cat was dressed like everyone else, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Still, she managed to look more glamorous, more perfect. Maybe it was the fur-trimmed vest, or the designer boots. Maybe it was the way her layered dark hair cascaded down her back. Maybe it was how the sun seemed to focus on her high cheekbones and wide eyes.

Cat had called a couple of hours ago and insisted they spend the afternoon together. Nevada had been hoping for a repeat with Tucker, but had agreed to meet her friend instead.

Cat turned away from the diorama and smiled at Nevada. “I feel the call of Mother Earth.”

She spoke seriously, as if Nevada should understand what she was talking about.

“What is she saying?”

“To create something wonderful for this town. Let’s get a latte.”

They walked back toward the main street. Cat nodded and smiled to nearly everyone they passed.

“Don’t you love how the mountains reach up toward the sky?” Cat asked, linking arms with her. “The silhouette as dusk approaches. The colors are magical. I don’t do much with color. I’ve thought about painting, how that could be new for me. But what if I’m not brilliant?”

“Do you have to be?” Most people were happy to be good at something. Brilliant was a whole new level.

Cat turned to her, tears in her eyes. “It’s who I am.”

Nevada came to a stop. “I’m sorry. I was being flippant. I can’t completely understand who you are and what you do.” Talk about stupid, she thought. Cat wasn’t like the ordinary mortals she shared space with. Yes, she was egotistical and self-absorbed, but she was also gifted in a way very few could understand.

“It’s all right,” Cat told her, sniffing delicately. “I’ve thought of trying to paint. I have, in private. It’s just that everything I do is judged so harshly. The critics, the art world. They’re ready to pounce, ready to say I’ve reached my pinnacle and am now in decline. I’m not ready to be finished. I live for my work — I can’t stand the thought of that being taken from me.”

Nevada thought about pointing out that Cat wouldn’t just miss the art. She could continue to work and never let anyone see another piece. But that was silliness. For Cat the art and the fame were one and the same.

“That’s one of the things I love so much about this place,” Cat said with a sigh. “The people are so giving and accepting. They understand that I’m just like them.”

Nevada shook her head. “You’re many things, but you’re not like them.”

Cat smiled. “All right, but I get to be close to everyone else when I’m here. That’s restful. Their support gives me energy.”

She was the center of her own universe, Nevada thought, more amused than annoyed by that fact. When one had been declared a great artist by the age of fourteen, being humble was probably an impossibility.

They turned and walked through the crowd to the Starbucks. Once inside, Cat greeted several people by name. She flirted with the teenager taking her order. Nevada watched him blush and fumble with the cash register.

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have been born with that much power over men. Sure, some found Nevada attractive and it wasn’t as if she had to wear a bag over her head to avoid frightening small children, but she wasn’t in Cat’s league. Men didn’t trip over themselves in a rush to hold open a door. No rock star had ever dedicated an album to her.

“What would you like?” Cat asked.

Nevada ordered a pumpkin spice latte to celebrate the season. Although, after the cupcakes she’d consumed this weekend, she was going to have to spend the next week being a little careful. All this stress eating was going to make her jeans tight.

Cat got the same. When their order was up, they collected their drinks and went back outside.

There were several small tables on the sidewalk. One was freed up as they approached and they sat across from each other.

The sun was warm. A few leaves fluttered to the ground by them. Cat picked up the largest and set it on the table.

“See the different colors,” she said, smoothing out the leaf. “It’s not just red. Look more closely. There’s scarlet and crimson. Cerise, carmine and vermilion. Nature gives us perfection and we spend our lives trying to come close.”