A Town Called Valentine(24)

But she hadn’t been smiling when she’d seen him. She’d been panting, and not out of lust but out of stupidity. Of course she’d heard about taking it easy when exercising at altitude. She’d just totally forgotten. Did he think she’d done it on purpose to get his attention? After all, she’d been jogging on his family land. But she’d stuck to the road. She’d been all ready to be upset at the implication she couldn’t take care of herself, and once again, he’d simply thanked her in regard to his grandmother. Nate Thalberg was making it too easy to forget what they’d done together that first night.

No, that was a lie—she couldn’t possibly forget. She still woke up in the middle of the night remembering how good she’d felt in his arms.

Maybe he wanted her to forget. She was living with his grandmother, after all. He was hardly going to proposition her under those circumstances. It had taken alcohol to make him do so in the first place, she thought with a sigh.

And there she went, downplaying her own sexiness. He’d thought her sexy enough that first night. Now she was just an annoyance, and it was better that way. Her indebtedness to him and his family—both father and grandmother—felt like another anchor around her neck as she struggled to stay afloat in the pursuit of her new life.

At least they hadn’t threatened her with foreclosing on the property, she reminded herself as she went into the kitchen. She would soon be able to repay it, once the building sold.

She hoped.

The widows were all in the kitchen as if waiting for her. Mrs. Thalberg seemed dressed for another casual day on the ranch, jeans and boots this time, and her red vest perfectly matched her hair. Mrs. Palmer was as colorful as a tulip beneath her blond wig, and Emily had realized that the prints and patterns in her dresses were just like her personality, big and vibrant. Mrs. Ludlow, dressed conservatively in tailored clothing, certainly didn’t let using a walker interfere with her self-respect.

“So let’s taste those muffins you made last night,” Mrs. Thalberg said brightly. “While we eat, you can tell us how you’re feeling. Nate called to make sure you got home all right.”

The word “home” struck her with a moment of sadness until she realized Nate was part of the same sentence. She smiled through gritted teeth, hating that she inspired anyone’s concern. “He felt the need to check up on me?”

“Of course he did!” Mrs. Palmer said sternly, with a hint of her Western drawl. “You could have full-blown altitude sickness, you know. You gotta take that seriously.”

“But I’m fine, and Nate could see that.” Emily turned to Mrs. Thalberg. “You know he wouldn’t have let me go, otherwise.”

It was true. He obviously liked to take control of every situation.

“Now let’s taste those muffins,” Emily said, changing the topic.

They weren’t perfect yet, so next time she’d alter a different ingredient, sugar instead of baking powder. Mrs. Thalberg said you just kept experimenting until you got it right. But the apple tarts, now those had turned out pretty good, and Emily carefully packaged plenty to take to Monica to thank her for lunch.

At her building, Emily had already cleared the beginning of a path through the downstairs restaurant and kitchen though now it looked like the maze of paths in a hoarder’s house. Braving a peek in the basement, she found more junk, but it could wait. Deciding to begin hauling out the garbage in the apartment, she headed upstairs until she heard a bell ring at her back door. Through the door window she could see a handsome, middle-aged man dressed stylishly in a sport coat and open-necked shirt, as if he’d just left a boardroom meeting in New York City. When she opened the door, he took off his sunglasses, his eyes widening as he looked past her.

“Good morning,” he said when he’d recovered. “I’m Cal Carpenter. Are you Emily Strong, granddaughter of Agatha Riley?”

She nodded curiously, but didn’t offer her married name. “What can I do for you, Mr. Carpenter?”

“I used to be with a law firm in Aspen although I live here now in blissful semiretirement.”

His toothpaste-commercial grin said he was more than enjoying himself in “semiretirement.” He seemed tanned and fit, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors.

“Your grandmother hired me before she died to take care of some legal matters.”

She blinked at him in surprise. That had to be over twenty-three years ago. “You mean her will?”