Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(3)

“Oh, I’m okay. This is honestly the first chance I’ve had to call in days. But it’s not going to stay this crazy. I hope.”

“What’s going on?”

“Well, everything. The production company has been staging small parties in key places all over town, trying to create some preproduction buzz about the movie by having cast members show up. I’ve been researching the character, spending some time with the writer, rehearsing lines they’ll only rewrite the second I have them down, looking at wardrobe and set sketches with the production designer, and generally going out to lunch, drinks, dinner, drinks, and talking till midnight. Then I fall into bed and sleep like a dead woman till 5:00 a.m. when I get up and jump on the treadmill.”

He just shook his head in confusion. “What’s the treadmill got to do with anything?”

She laughed. “I have to be in good shape. And I don’t have the dogs or horses to help me do that. I hired my old trainer back to firm things up a bit. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I’m working my ass off.”

“Well, stop going out for all those drinks and you’ll feel better.”

“I stick to club soda when I’m meeting with actors, producers, promoters, et cetera. They’re not catching me with my pants down.”

He smiled and felt instant shame for having baited her like that. And pride; she was a consummate professional—he should have known that. “That’s my girl.”

“Tell me what’s going on there.”

“Shelby came back,” he said.

Silence answered him. “She did?” Muriel finally asked in a shocked breath.

“Yes, ma’am. And apparently Luke did enough groveling to satisfy her, because she’s moved in with him. And this morning he paid me a visit, asked my permission to propose.”

“Get out of town! Did you grant it?”

“No. I told him to go to hell. I should have just shot him. I told him that.”

“Oh, you’d like me to believe you’re that kind of bully, wouldn’t you?”

“The silly girl seems to love him. And you should see him. Whipped into shape that fast. I bet if we pulled up his shirt, there would be lash marks all over his back. He’s limp as a noodle.”

“I bet he’s not,” she said with a laugh. “Well, good for Shelby. That maneuver never worked for me. When I stomped off into the night, they just said, ‘Okay, bah-bye.’”

“What’s Jack Whatshisname like?”

“Are you ever going to say his last name?” she asked with a deep sigh.

“No.”

“He’s a nice man. Professional, punctual, talented, and very much enjoys the way people fall at his feet. And they should. He’s got the gift. I like him. I think working with him again will be a good experience.”

“Muriel,” he said softly, “when are you coming home?”

Equally soft, she answered, “I don’t know, Walt. And yes, I miss you.”

Jack’s bar was the place in Virgin River where the locals gathered. Not that everyone was there every night, but you could always count on seeing a friend there. There was a military backbone to this community since Jack Sheridan, a Marine who’d done his twenty, had opened the bar. Following him to the town was one of his best friends, John Middleton, known as Preacher, who was his partner and the cook at the bar. Next to arrive was Mike Valenzuela who’d served with Jack in Iraq twice and was now the town constable. Walt’s son-in-law, Paul, was one of Jack’s boys from way back and had also served with him twice. Even Luke Riordan, being ex-army, was welcomed into this brotherhood. It was the kind of place Walt felt he belonged.

Since Muriel had left, he’d been going low profile, generally fixing himself a little dinner at home by himself. Since talking with her for a while last night, he was feeling a little more secure about things and decided on Jack’s for dinner. In fact, he got there a bit early, before the dinner crowd. The TV perched high in the corner was on so Jack and anyone who cared could keep up with the news, with the action in Iraq.

Jack was toting his son David in the backpack while he served. “General,” he greeted. “Good to see you, sir. Been a while.”

“I guess it has,” Walt said, hopping up on a stool. “What do you hear from Iraq?”

“Rick writes at least every couple of weeks. He doesn’t scare me, but CNN and Fox News make me shiver. There were just a couple of big bombings over there. Casualties on our side.”

Jack had a young protégé who’d entered the Marine Corps at eighteen and after a year of special training, had deployed to Iraq. The boy was like a son to Jack.

“You’ll get a kick out of this, sir. I’m getting computer literate. E-mail is sometimes quick and easy for Rick when he’s near a computer and I don’t want to miss out on anything. Preacher’s been after me for years—he has the books on the computer. And of course Mel needs one at home. So…I’ve finally had a conversion.”

“Welcome aboard,” Walt laughed.

“I suppose you’ve been spending time with the neighbor lady.” Jack put the general’s preferred brew in front of him without being asked.

“As a matter of fact, Muriel has left town for a while and I’m taking care of the dogs and horses.” Walt said this with a touch of pride. The studio contract had provided for help with her dogs on location and someone to stay at the farmhouse and take care of the horses, but Walt didn’t want these valuable extensions of Muriel in the hands of strangers and had asked her to trust him to do the job. “She’s gone back to Hollywood to make a movie. I imagine she’ll have long weekends here and there, but it’ll probably be close to six months before they’re done.”