Promise Canyon (11 page)

“Yeah, that means you can do pretty much whatever you want as long as you don’t abuse the money, right? This ain’t abuse! It’s a good investment! No matter how bad things get, people still make apple cider and apple pie. And things are gonna swing back up. But that adjustable rate second could really kill me in the meantime.”

“Hugh, I don’t think Hope intended personal loans—”

“It’s not exactly a loan. An investment! By the way, how much did she leave you?”

Jack was starting to doubt his wisdom on this matter. He put a strong hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “She didn’t leave me anything, Hugh. She left it to the town and put me in charge of making sure it’s used responsibly.
I’m obligated to look at the past use of her funds to get a clue about how she thinks that should be done. Now let’s go inside and have a meeting with the town.”

“Is that a no?” he asked.

“That is a no,” Jack said. “I’m sorry you got stuck with a bad loan, but Hope’s money wasn’t meant for any one person. I’m sure of that.”

“Don’t know why not, if the return is good,” he said in a pout. “The others might not agree with you, you know.”

“Well, let’s hear what they have to say.” But he was already starting to regret this idea of a town meeting. And it pissed him off that Mel and Preacher were onto this ahead of him.

Jack left Hugh to find himself a seat and strode down the center aisle of the church. He got a prickly sensation up his spine when he noted there were more people packed into the church to divvy up the money than attended Sunday morning service.

“Evening,” he said when he faced the crowd. “If it wasn’t clear in the notice, let me explain why we’re all gathering here tonight. Hope McCrea, who did so many generous things for Virgin River, left the town a trust in her will. And because she was a little daft and shortsighted, she decided to put me in charge. So, I thought it made sense to listen to your suggestions and ideas and—”

“How much did she leave you?” a man’s voice rang out from the back.

“Okay, let’s be clear, here—she didn’t leave
me
anything. I have no intention of ever using or borrowing from her funds. But I have been given a responsibility that I take very seriously—to use what she left in a way
that she would approve of. Now, if you knew Hope you knew she was pretty well fixed, but she didn’t throw money around. Hell, I don’t know if I ever saw her in a coat with all its buttons and God knows that old Suburban of hers had a couple hundred thousand miles on it. I take that as a clue about how careful she was with—”

“How much is it?” a different male voice shouted from the back.

“I’m not telling you. Don’t you get that? I invited you here to give you a chance to make suggestions, since Hope died with the intention that what she left behind would serve the town! Do I hear a suggestion?” he asked a little hotly.

“We need a sign!” a woman’s voice rang out. An elderly lady stood up. “We really need a sign! People don’t know where they are when they get off 36. We need a sign that says, Welcome to Virgin River, Population 623, et cetera.”

“Okay, there’s an idea. That’s what I’m talking about,” Jack said approvingly. He nodded at Mel to make sure she’d jotted it down, which she did right after rolling her eyes.

“It should have lights on it,” the woman went on. “With a big blinking arrow. I’m talking about a
big
sign. Billboard size. Like they have for casinos.”

“Whoa,” Jack said. “Do we really need—”

“We need to bail out our friends and neighbors,” Hugh Givens said, standing up. “I suggested this to Jack already but he could care less about an idea like this. We need to use that money to make some loans to folks who have been hit by this recession. I mean, with fair interest, it’s a good investment for the town. Right? And
some of us got caught in the crunch and could use a little help from someone who’s not a bank.”

“I could use some of that kind of help,” one of the Andersons said. The Andersons were sheep ranchers.

“Hey, I could use a break on interest,” said a man from the other side of the room.

“Bull, Lou, you’re just broke ’cause you bought a new Dually and you don’t even need no Dually—you just go back and forth to work, that’s all.”

“So my truck is less important than that rumpus room you built on the house?” the offended owner of the truck with dual back wheels asked hotly.

“Best thing we could do is double the size of that corner store so people would have a place to shop in this town,” said Ron, who just happened to own the Corner Store. “Can’t do that without a little help. And it would serve the town.”

“How about a lottery?” a man said, standing. “’Course it would help to know how much money there is before we actually do it, but we could have a lottery and divide it up. Then a bunch of people could be winners.”

“Listen to yourselves,” Jo Ellen Fitch said. “We need a school! We’ve been bussing our children to other towns for years and even survived a bus accident! What could be a more responsible use for Hope’s money than a school?”

“I got my kids through school!” someone shouted. “I put ’em on the bus or drove ’em myself. I don’t want my one chance at some cash to go to some school when I don’t have any need of one anymore!”

“Seriously—a lottery! Let’s take care of it, here and now. It’s town money and we’re the town, right? So Jack, spit it out—how much is there?”

“Will you listen to yourselves?” Jack said angrily. “What are you going to do if there’s an epidemic? A wildfire? If some kid goes missing in the forest? Don’t you have any interest in saving up some money for emergencies? What if we have to rebuild the town someday? What if we need an ambulance or fire truck or—”

“I guess we’ll do what we’ve always done,” someone answered. “You ever know us to fail to pitch in?”

“You can’t wait to get your greedy hands on this money!” he nearly shouted. “I’m totally shocked! I thought you’d come up with good ideas for the town! But no, you want to clear loans and win a lottery!”

“A school, at least for the little ones,” Jo Fitch repeated. “It could be one room, grades one through six or something.”

“What the hell for?” someone shouted. “The rest of us got our kids through school riding that bus! Paid for by the county, by the way!”

“I ain’t giving up my share for someone else’s elementary schoolers!” someone else shouted.

Jack’s face grew red. He listened to people shouting back and forth and just went from red to purple. He glanced at his wife and saw her gently close her notebook. Finally, with no feedback from him, the din subsided. He cleared his throat. “Ahem. Hope did not leave her money to the people of the town, but the town. And she put me in charge of figuring out how to serve the town. So, you all sound like a bunch of selfish bastards who can’t wait to get your paws on her money—excuse me, the school idea was not selfish, no offense intended….”

“What about my sign?” a woman asked.

“Also unselfish. But totally unnecessary. This was a bad idea. This meeting is over.”

He walked back down the center aisle and out of the church.

The Loving Cup was Dane’s brainchild. It was also a way for him to help his sister, Darlene, get on her feet after a rough divorce. They had started on a shoestring, but Dane had catering experience and Darlene was a dream in the kitchen. They had decorated with an eclectic collection of comfy chairs from wing chairs to cushiony armchairs complete with mismatched side and coffee tables. Although they sold food ranging from cookies and slices of pie to breakfast and lunch sandwiches, the front of the store was set up with a series of small sitting areas. And it was almost always full. People dropped in for as little as a cup of coffee or as much as a lunch meeting.

There were only two stools at the end of the long counter, and Lilly had claimed one of them as her favorite perch.

Dane worked the front of the store, which was one of the reasons Lilly had formed a closer bond with him than with Darlene. Darlene was stuck in the kitchen, creating her masterpieces. And there was also the fact that five years postdivorce and four years post–Loving Cup opening, Darlene, a single mother of two teenagers, was in a very nice, comfortable relationship with the owner of a small hardware store. And Dane, like Lilly, was unattached. That allowed for their occasional nights out together.

There was undoubtedly more to it—Lilly and Dane had taken to each other. What began as a few friendly
chats over tea and buns turned into deep conversations in which some confidences were exchanged. And because neither of them was romantically involved, it was a simple matter to arrange outings like trips to the wildlife sanctuary or movies or even shopping trips.

Most importantly she relied on his friendship because she’d told him things about herself that she hadn’t even told any of her few girlfriends. And he had responded with both kindness and wisdom.

Dane and Darlene closed the coffee shop at six-thirty every evening. They had discovered that evening crowds were thin—people seemed to prefer dinner at real restaurants or bars, even if their drink of choice was a frothy coffee. Knowing it was closing time, Lilly popped into the shop after finishing work at the feed store. And knowing this was very rare for Lilly when they didn’t have plans together, Dane walked around the counter, flipped the sign to Closed and locked the door.

He walked back around the counter, faced her and said, “I already washed the teapot. And you’ve been wearing that strange look for a couple of weeks at least, except tonight it just got stranger.”

“Can I just have something from the case? Like a Snapple or something?”

“And then you’ll talk?” he asked.

“I always talk,” she said.

“Well, that’s debatable,” he said, getting her a cold drink. He twisted off the top and handed it across the counter. “You always talk
eventually.
Sometimes you lead up to it for
months.
I’m getting less patient with that.”

She took a pull of a cold raspberry drink. “Got a date?”

“Hah. My Friday-night girl is sitting right here, and unless I missed something, we don’t have plans. What has you so screwed up?”

She smirked before she said, “The vet tech.”

“Ah-
hah!
” he said, victorious. “I knew it! Didn’t I know it? I told you and you said it was the horses!”

“It’s the vet tech
and
the horses,” she corrected. “If I hadn’t let myself get all hooked on the horses, I could have probably stayed away from the vet tech! Now going to see the horses means running into him and I have to figure out how to deal because I want to keep Blue and I’m trying to find a way.” She leaned toward him. “The director at the community center would love to have me teach some yoga and if I did it three nights a week, I could pay her board.”

“And never have time to ride her,” Dane said. “Tell me about the guy.”

She sat back. “He reminds me of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“The teenage werewolf?” Dane asked, speaking of the heartbreaker of her childhood. “How does he remind you? In looks? In personality? His voice? His mannerisms?”

“In general,” she said. “He’s very tall, like the teenage werewolf, and very Native—high cheekbones, long black hair, almost black eyes. He’s incredibly sexy—to me, anyway—and that’s the scariest part.”

“Is he nice?” Dane asked.

She sucked in her breath. “Everyone is nice at first,” she said. “Yes, he’s nice. And maybe the most powerful man I’ve ever known—that’s what’s so scary. That’s what makes me feel like running for my life. He has a
huge presence. His confidence and mastery is just… Whew!”

Dane held one of her hands. “Honey, you were a thirteen-year-old baby in a woman’s body when an irresponsible but hot guy came after you. All your hormones were firing off rockets. You were too young to be smart, and you got hurt so bad that you spent the next fourteen years putting up your defenses so you’d never be tempted by a good-looking guy again.” He grinned at her. “There are handsome, powerful men in this world who are also good. You should be sure about what you’re dealing with before you run.”

Dane was one of very few living people who knew the whole traumatic story. Want of that eighteen-year-old boy from a neighboring reservation turned Lilly into a maniac who was willing to risk anything to be with him. She sneaked out at night, didn’t come home by curfew or even all night, took money from and lied to her grandpa… She was horrid; she dared anything that boy asked. She gave him her virginity. And then suddenly—and shamefully—she was pregnant. The drama of it was shattering. Grandpa went after the boy, his family, he even once loaded a rifle. In the end the boy ran, leaving the Navajo Nation for parts unknown to escape being tied to Lilly. She lost the baby before the third month. Grandpa packed up the house and moved them to California. She remembered him saying, “It’s not too late for you to turn your life around, Lilly. Not too late for you to be different than your poor, wasted mother.”

And by God, she had!

“You are not that little girl anymore, Lilly,” Dane said
to her now. “You’re an educated adult and if he isn’t a good man, you’ll kick him to the curb.”

“What if I give him a chance and it gets me really hurt, like the last time?”

“Annie McKenzie will shoot him.”

That made Lilly smile. Annie probably would. “He asked me out.”

“And you said?”

“That I had a boyfriend…”

“Aw, God,” Dane said, rolling his eyes. “I feel dirty, I feel used….”

“And he actually kissed me. Grabbed me and kissed me. And I
liked
it. And then I told him if he ever did that again, we couldn’t even be friends. So the jerk forced me to agree to friendship, that’s how sneaky he is. And how dense I am!”

“I have suggested counseling for this reason,” Dane reminded her. “It’s time to move on, Lilly. Time to leave the teenage misery in the past and get on with life. I know you think you want to be an old spinster with a feed store, but that’ll never work for you. It’s the coward’s way out and when you’re fifty you’ll hate yourself for not giving a relationship and family a chance.”