Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)

Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5) Page 27

“You been around lately?” he asked.

“Not lately, no. I used to visit when my folks were still alive. But over the past few years I’ve just been up here on very quick trips to look at property. I’ve never been in this bar before.”

“I take it something worked out in terms of property?”

“A ranch. Out on Silverton Road.”

Jack frowned. “The old Weatherby place? He didn’t die, did he?”

“No,” Muriel said. “Finally decided to give it up and go live near the kids.”

“I didn’t know it was even available,” Jack observed.

“I don’t think it was. I’ve been working with a Realtor for a few years now, looking for property. I think she went visiting, telling people she might have a buyer if it was the right place. And this was the right place. Did you know him?”

“Nah,” Jack said, giving the counter a wipe. “He was an old-timer when I got here a few years ago. He’d already sold off most of his stock, kept a couple of horses, couple of dogs and a nice garden. He was already retired. I met him a couple of times in the bar. Had a slew of kids and none of ’em stayed around.” He laughed. “You know—you make it your life’s dream to get your kids a big education and, in the end, no one wants the ranch.” He glanced at the tittering women. “Madge and Beatrice,” he explained. “They are all stirred up. Newcomers rate some attention around here.”

“I suppose that’s the case,” she said.

“Doesn’t that Weatherby place need some work?” he asked.

“Some serious restoration,” she said, sipping her soda. “But it’s solid, has a good barn and corral, and there’s a guesthouse. What was Weatherby doing with a guesthouse?”

“As I understand it, his late wife used to like to paint, so she built herself a studio. After she died, a long while back, he turned it into a little apartment he could rent out to ranch hands or loggers. Sort of a bunkhouse.”

“Oh, that explains it,” she said.

“Explains what, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“It’s a good little room with a lot of windows. But it was filthy. Like it was rented to men and not cleaned in between.” She sipped her cola. “The Realtor got a crew to clean it up real nice. I gave it a coat of paint, decorated it in a small way, bought a big area rug and can live in it while I work on the bigger house.”

“You looking for a contractor?” he asked.

“Not yet. I’m sure I’ll need some help, but I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time and I want to do most of the work myself. I mean, I’m not crazy—I’ll need help if I ever have to wire, plumb, lay flooring or put on a roof. But I’m hell with a paintbrush. And, believe it or not, I’ve mastered seamless wallpaper.”

“What about cabinets, countertops, tile, wallboard, et cetera?”

“I’m very handy. I plan to restore it, not upgrade it. It’s got a lot of spirit. Some women do needlepoint, some sand and varnish.”

That got a big laugh out of Jack. Right at that moment, Mel came in with David on her hip and her big belly preceding her through the door. He lifted his chin in greeting, but before Mel could make it to the bar, she was summoned over to Madge and Beatrice, who leaned their heads together and spoke intently, glancing at Jack and the woman, eyes round.

Muriel glanced at the woman and baby; no doubt about it, that would be the classy blonde who married Jack. She smiled.

Mel passed the baby over the bar to her husband, gave him a little kiss and then grinned at Muriel. She put out her hand. “Muriel St. Claire,” she said. “Hi. I’m Mel Sheridan. How exciting.”

Muriel took her hand. “How do you do. I guess you know this guy.”

“Know him real well, actually.” Mel laughed. “You have those women over there in a fluster. They can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Oh, it’s really me. I just moved here.”

“Summer place?” Mel asked.

Muriel shook her head. “Retirement place. Permanent.”

“Really?” Mel asked, lifting a brow. “An early retirement?”

“Hardly.” Muriel laughed. “I’m so ready for a change of pace. Jesus, I’ve been making movies for forty years!”

“Okay, wait a second here,” Jack said. “I’m totally lost.”

“Of course you are, Jack. Muriel St. Claire is an actress, very famous, and has been since she was about…”

“Fifteen,” Muriel supplied.

Jack did the math. “You’re fifty-five?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Wow.”

“Good maintenance,” she said, brushing off the compliment. “I’m fifty-six and sick of acting. Well, not acting so much as the lifestyle that goes with it. I’ve been shopping for a ranch for a few years now. My parents lived in these mountains many, many years ago. I have a couple of horses and can’t wait for delivery on a couple of dogs. I have a chocolate Lab being trained in Kentucky—she’s a beauty. And a Lab puppy coming in a couple of weeks. Both hunters, I hope.”

“You hunt?” Mel asked, trying to keep the shock from her voice.

“You hunt?” Jack asked, grinning.

“Waterfowl. Duck and geese.”

“Jack shoots deer.”

“I could try that,” she said. “But you can’t use dogs for that and I love working the dogs. I’ve always had a dog.” She squinted at Mel. “You look familiar.”

“We met once. I don’t expect you would remember me—first of all it was years ago. But I lived in L.A. before moving up here and we went to the same day spa for a while. I saw you there a couple of times. I think we might’ve had the same aesthetician.” Jack was frowning in total confusion again. “Facials,” she told him.

“Fantastic,” Muriel said. “Who do you use around here?”

“Well, there are some decent beauty shops in Fortuna and Eureka, but probably not what you’re used to. Nothing here in Virgin River.” Mel glanced at Muriel’s perfect nails. “You’re going to go a long way for a good manicure.”

Muriel followed her eyes. “I can kiss these goodbye. I’m going to be busy redecorating.”

“Really? You’re planning to do some of it yourself?”

“Most of it,” she said rather proudly, lifting her chin. “What brought you up here?”

“Ah, long story. I was looking for a change. I was a nurse-practitioner and midwife in L.A. and took a job here—population just over six hundred. It was supposed to be for a year, but Jack got me knocked up.”

“We are married,” he said, shaking his head at her. “Tell the woman you’re happy about that, Melinda.”

“Perfectly happy. Jack worked out.” She grinned.

“Muriel has the ranch just across the pasture from the Booth place. About six miles by car, or a mile and a half down the river on a horse.”

“Oh, fantastic. You’re going to love that family,” Mel said. “Walt’s a retired general with a couple of grown kids and a new grandson. Great people. In fact, Virgin River is a whole town of really nice people. I’ll look forward to introducing you around.”

“That’s real nice of you.”

“Mind you,” Mel continued, “once Madge and Beatrice over there get on the phone, formal introductions won’t be necessary. Maybe we should put them out of their misery. Would you like to go over and say hi before they go into shock?”

“Lovely,” Muriel said.

“Ah, wait a second,” Jack said. “Are we going to have a lot of those reporters and photographers around here?”

“Paparazzi?” Muriel asked. “I highly doubt it. I’m old news. The wild, half-dressed young girls are keeping them very busy these days.” And then she flashed him a dazzling smile.

With Tom at Brenda’s, and Vanni gone to Grants Pass with Paul for a few days, Walt faced two choices for dinner—throw a piece of meat on the grill, or get something at Jack’s. He got in the car.

There were about ten people in the bar when Walt arrived, all of them sitting at tables except Doc, who was up at the bar. Walt joined him there, leaving one stool to separate them. Doc and Walt merely nodded at each other; Doc wasn’t usually given to deep conversation. Jack grinned at Walt and slapped down a napkin. “Well, now. What can I do for you, sir?”

Walt peered at the empty baby pack Jack was wearing. “Lose a rider, son?”

“David’s off being ‘refreshed,’” Jack said with a laugh.

“How about a beer while you tell me what Preacher’s got cooking tonight?”

Jack drew the draft and put it in front of him. “Sunday special—pot roast. I don’t know what the man uses for seasoning, but it’s so damn good. And the gravy’s almost like tar, it’s so dark. He cooked it with vegetables but he’s serving whipped potatoes on the side. They’re like silk.”

“Perfect,” Walt said, lifting his beer.

“You want takeout for the family?”

“Just me tonight. Vanni’s gone up to Oregon with Paul for a few days, and I don’t rate much time with Tom while he’s on Brenda’s dance card.”

“Oregon?” Jack said with a lift of his brow. “You don’t say? What do you suppose they’ll find to do in Oregon?”

Walt smiled at him. “Funny.”

Jack chuckled. “Sounds like maybe some things got sorted out. This mean we won’t be seeing too much of that nice Dr. Michaels around here?”

“I think maybe that nice Dr. Michaels hanging around lit a fire under Paul,” Walt said. “Good man, Haggerty. If a little slow.”

Jack laughed. “Don’t go too hard on him, General. I think Vanessa scared him to death. She’s awful pretty. Wicked smart, too.”

Walt appreciated the compliment and smiled. “Hell, sometimes she scares me.”

“I’ll go give Preach your order. Be right back.”

Walt had enjoyed about half his brew when Mel came from the back and took the stool beside him. “Hey, there,” she said brightly. “Jack said you were here.”

“How you feeling, girl?”

“Ready to pop. But I’m hanging in there.” Jack came out with the carrier full of baby again, holding two steaming plates. He put them in front of Walt and Mel. “Mind if I join you for dinner?” Mel asked.

“I’d welcome it. Jack’s not eating dinner?”

“I’ve been helping Preacher all afternoon make sure it’s just right. I’ve probably had three dinners already,” Jack said. “You just missed your new neighbor by about an hour.”

“Oh?” Walt said, digging in. “Who might that be?”

Mel leaned an elbow on the bar. “Does the name Muriel St. Claire mean anything to you?”

“Can’t say that it does,” he said. He took a mouthful. “By damn, that Preacher,” he said, savoring the seasoned, tender beef. “He’s got the gift.”

“She’s an actress, Walt,” Mel explained. “Quite famous, actually. I’ve seen a lot of her films.”

Walt hummed in response, more interested in his food. Finally he said, “What’s she doing around here?”

“She says she came from these mountains and decided to return, retire here.”

“Just what we need,” Walt said. “Another little old lady. Is she rich at least?”

“She looked pretty rich to me,” Jack said. “And not exactly old.”