A Town Called Valentine(31)

To make it up to her, he’d stayed on campus with her during the break, but a freak snowstorm hit early up in the mountains, while his family was trying to gather the herd to bring them down to the ranch. Brooke accidentally let slip how many cows were missing and feared dead, and Nate felt awful, like he’d let everyone down when he should have been there. He rushed home to help, even though he knew Lilly felt abandoned by him right when she needed him most. Though he loved her, she thought he was putting his family first. Furious about being on her own, she floundered in her classes, dropped out of school and out of his life. He hadn’t realized how he’d undermined her, but that was no excuse. It was a lot longer before he learned his lesson.

“Good morning, Emily and Nate!”

They turned to see Mrs. Ludlow, dressed in a tailored skirt and blouse, limping toward them with the aid of her walker. Her granddaughter, three or so years old, if Nate remembered, held on to one of the metal bars. He got to his feet and tipped his hat as Mrs. Ludlow came to a smiling stop.

“Well, it’s so pleasant to see you both,” she said with a smile.

To Nate’s surprise, Emily knelt right down on the sidewalk as if her bones had melted and smiled at the little girl.

“And who are you?” Emily asked.

The girl pulled her thumb out of her mouth, said, “Miri,” and popped it back in.

“It’s short for Miriam,” Mrs. Ludlow said with pride. “She’s one of my granddaughters.”

“Aren’t you so pretty?” Emily clapped her hands together.

The little girl giggled.

Emily glanced up at Mrs. Ludlow with such a sweet, happy expression, it was like a reality kick in the gut to Nate. He didn’t need a billboard sign to tell him she was the marrying kind of woman.

As the two women discussed Miri’s dress, handmade by Mrs. Ludlow, and Emily fingered the lace, he saw a pale line on her ring finger. Had she already been married? Or was she still?

Her background was none of his business.

Emily offered part of an apple tart to the little girl, then boosted her onto the bench to eat it.

“You’re just the kindest girl,” Mrs. Ludlow said, a bit too loudly. “You fit in well at the boardinghouse. We have a mission, I’ll have you know.”

“A mission?” Emily echoed. “Sounds mysterious.”

“Nothing political, of course,” Mrs. Ludlow said firmly. “But we take pride in Valentine Valley, and we like to make sure it stays true to its small-town roots while still encouraging the right improvements, the kind that preserve the history of our buildings for the enjoyment of our residents and visitors.”

“You mean tourists,” Nate said dryly.

“There is nothing wrong with tourists,” Mrs. Ludlow scolded.

“You don’t like visitors?” Emily asked him sweetly.

He knew she was amusing herself at his expense. He let his eyes remind her just how welcoming he’d been to her, a visitor. She blushed.

“I like visitors and tourists just fine,” he drawled.

“Others don’t,” Mrs. Ludlow said. “But we simply can’t let our historic buildings fall down around us—or allow an inappropriate business to give people the wrong idea. Rosemary, Renée, and I oversee the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund.”

Nate didn’t like where the conversation was heading.

“A preservation fund sounds very worthwhile,” Emily said politely.

“And the town has been the better for it. We’re the ones who encouraged businesses like Back in Time Portrait Studio to open here.”

“Mrs. Palmer just likes dressing up in costumes like his customers do,” Nate said dryly.

“She’s loyal to our roots here in the West,” Mrs. Ludlow insisted.

“She goes around like a pioneer woman on the Fourth of July,” Nate said to Emily in an exaggerated undertone.

“What a wonderful idea,” Emily said. “I bet the tourists love it.”

Mrs. Ludlow smiled with superiority at Nate, before continuing, “Main Street’s flourishing, more and more Aspen tourists are taking a day to come relax with us, and our little Victorian gingerbread houses don’t stay on the market more than a day.”

“And some would say the prices are getting pretty high,” Nate volunteered.

Emily’s glance morphed into skepticism as she studied him.

“Beautiful craftsmanship always draws the connoisseur.” Mrs. Ludlow lifted her nose in the air.