Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(10)

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “When I married Marcie, I married the family, Erin, and what’s ours is yours. You don’t have to ask permission.” He turned full circle, looking around. “I can’t believe you completely remodeled the whole place by e-mail! It’s amazing!”

“I’ll be sure and ask if you’re already using it before I make any plans,” she said.

“He was kidding,” Marcie said. “Ian, you’re such a dork. We’ll all come together. And when Drew visits, he can sleep in the shed.” She grinned.

“But you like it?” Erin asked again.

“I think it’s great,” he said. “You made it beautiful.”

Marcie did a lot of oohing and aahing, and Erin seemed to puff up from that. “I don’t know how I made it without a real kitchen for so long,” Ian said, opening the refrigerator door. When he’d lived here, there was a sink with a pump handle and he’d cooked on a Coleman stove. His mind-set and the emotional landscape of his life back then had been all about deprivation. It hadn’t been so much a form of self-punishment as a paring down of baggage. The less he could make it on, the more competent he felt. It had been like an endurance test. And he had passed with flying colors; he had endured like crazy.

Erin had been here almost a week. In the refrigerator he found yogurt, cottage cheese, egg substitute, skim milk, a loaf of thinly sliced low-cal bread, salad fixings, celery and carrot sticks, apples, cheese singles, tofu and hummus. His stomach growled; he wondered if it made her feel more competent to starve to death.

For the hundredth time he asked himself what was really up with Erin, this isolation on the mountaintop, because this whole “well-deserved vacation” story just didn’t add up. Not with Erin.

“Let me cook tonight, okay?” he said. Both women agreed that would be wonderful. So he continued, “Tonight I’m cooking something Preacher whipped up. I’m going to run into town and grab dinner.”

“Um, I’m watching my calories,” Erin said unnecessarily. “Does he make anything kind of, you know, low cal?”

Preacher was the cook at Jack’s bar, and he made one thing every day. Well, one breakfast item, one lunch item, one dinner item. Preacher did what he pleased, and it was always fantastic but none of it was low cal. “He’s very conscientious that way,” Ian fibbed, and his wife tilted her head toward him, making a face that said shame on you.

Ian was dying for food. Real food, not rabbit food. But then, he could hardly blame Erin; she hadn’t been expecting company.

“You girls enjoy your visit,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.” And he headed for town.

When he walked into the bar, Jack greeted him enthusiastically. “Hey, stranger! Long time. You and Marcie up for a little visit?”

“You could say that,” Ian said. “We weren’t planning to come up so soon after Erin got here, but she had a little accident.”

“You don’t say? What happened?”

“Freak accident, I guess. She stood up too fast, whacked her head on the deck railing, knocked herself out. Cold.”

Jack whistled. “And called you to come up?”

“Nah, the hospital called us. They said she was fine, they didn’t expect any problems, but since she was living alone out at the cabin with no phone, they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. You know—just in case. They said they’d release her if there was someone to pick her up, drive her home and spend the night with her.”

“So you rescued her. Nice brother-in-law.”

Ian grinned largely. “No, Jack. We rescued the hospital. Erin can be a little high maintenance sometimes. Can I have a cold beer?”

“Absolutely.” He drew a draft and put it on the bar. “You know, Ian, when something like that happens, you can always call me or Preacher. We’d have found someone to take care of her for you.”

“Thanks, Jack. I kind of figured that, but Marcie would’ve been jumpy all night, having no contact with her sister. Her hormones are a little wonky right now. You know?”

Jack grinned. “Oh, I’ve been there. How’s she doing?”

“Great, she’s doing great. We’re having a boy in August. She’s gorgeous, kind of in the way a toothpick that swallowed a pea is gorgeous. A toothpick with wild red hair.”

“And you?” Jack asked. “How do you like the cabin?”

“I think Paul outdid himself. I can hardly believe it’s the same place. Any chance you’ve seen it?”

Jack smirked. He gave the bar a wipe. “Pal, this is Virgin River. It’s what we do on Sundays after church—drive around and walk through new construction and remodels in progress. ’Course, we needed a guide with a key for your place…. Paul took us through a couple of times, hope you don’t mind. He’s real proud of that fireplace and the deck.” Jack whistled. “You gotta be asking yourself how you lived without that deck.”

Ian laughed. “If I’d even thought of some of those improvements, it would’ve been years before I could’ve made ’em. It took someone with Erin’s resources to pull off a job like that.”

“How you getting on with the grand dame?” Jack asked.

“Erin? Aw, I love Erin. I mean, I know she comes off as kind of demanding, but that’s Erin the lawyer and businesswoman. She’s devoted her whole life to protecting Marcie and Drew and there were a lot of times they needed someone as hardheaded as Erin.” He laughed. “She’ll be fine—nothing could crack that skull. She didn’t have to fix up that old cabin—she could’ve taken a long cruise or a three-month vacation at a Caribbean resort. I won’t even pretend to know what she’s got socked away, but she’s got a reputation as one of the best estate lawyers in five states. I bet she could’ve bought a small house on a beach. But Marcie loves that old place because it’s where we fell in love. I think Erin did it as much for us as herself. And Erin doesn’t want to be too far away in case the baby comes early.”