Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(67)

But she had the room fixed up a little bit—fresh paint, bright colors of yellow, red, a little rose and pale green. The bedspread matched the love seat and chair cushions.

While he was looking around, she was digging a corkscrew out of a drawer. She handed him the bottle and the implement and went after glasses. “Nice little place,” he said, going to work on the cork. “Hope I don’t have to pee while I’m here. More to the point, I hope you don’t have to.”

Muriel laughed, then she grabbed something that leaned up against the end of her cupboard and, one-handed, glasses in the other hand, she erected a wooden TV tray between the chair and short couch. “Instant coffee table,” she said. “Please pour.”

She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a platter covered in Saran, then grabbed a big box of crackers out of a cupboard and placed it on the tray next to her platter. Sliced ham and salami, sliced cheese, olives, veggies and hummus. “Ah,” he said. “You were expecting me.”

She laughed and sat in the chair. “Walt, it’s my dinner.”

“Oh. Oh, I wouldn’t want to take your dinner.…”

“I sliced up twice as much, in case you came for your cup of sugar.”

“You really don’t cook? At all? You eat like this?”

“I have a feeling this isn’t going to hold you for long,” she said, picking up a celery stick and dipping it through the hummus. “Well, you’ll be all right. You can make yourself a pot roast or something when you get home tonight.”

And he thought—if we begin to keep company, I will have to be in charge of the food.

And she thought—if we see much of each other, I’ll probably gain weight.

“From the outside, this looks like a bunkhouse or guesthouse.”

“It was. Or is. First it was an artist’s studio for the rancher’s wife,” she said, pointing up to two skylights in the ceiling. “Then a bunkhouse for hands or lumberjacks. The kitchen and bathroom facilities were an afterthought, I believe. My Realtor had the junk hauled out, then I did some painting. I’ll stay here while I work on the big house. And if you have to relieve yourself, the bathroom in the big house works just fine. The door closes and everything.” She took a small sip of wine. “Hmm,” she said, letting her eyes close briefly. Then she clinked his glass. “To new neighborhoods.”

“This isn’t exactly what I expected of a movie star. Spackling. Living in one room.”

“How interesting,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You’re exactly what I expected of a general.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh. Thinking anyone who isn’t carrying an M16 is a wimp and women who dress up can’t do heavy work. Walt, time for you to get with it. Movie stars are people. Most of them, anyway. And besides, I’m not a movie star now—I’m retired.”

“What’s that like, being a movie star?”

“Being a star, as you put it, is like living an imaginary life. Acting, however, is the hardest work you’ll ever find. Look at me,” she said, connecting with his eyes. “Closely, closely—yes, like that. Now look angry.” He scowled for her. “Very nice,” she said. “Now—look vulnerable.” He frowned in confusion. “Not easy, is it? Add to that, you have to memorize one hundred and twenty pages of dialogue, be on the set at 6:00 a.m. and won’t get done before 10:00 p.m., you’ll either sweat or freeze, you’ll stand at attention for so many goddamn hours your h*ps will lock and the man you have to kiss will have breath that would gag a maggot or the promising young actress who’s playing your daughter will be a snotty little shit who holds up the whole production and costs everyone time and money.” She leaned back and grinned at him. “It’s not easy. I swear to God.”

“Well, no wonder you retired.”

“Why’d you retire?”

“Over thirty-five years is a long time for an Army officer,” he began.

And they talked through a bottle of wine and her snacks. Walt learned a little about the life of an actress and Muriel heard about the Army and Walt’s family, including the death of his son-in-law, the new grandson and Paul. Before long the wine was gone and it was almost ten o’clock. There was no kiss good-night or anything even close, but Walt said, “If I had time on my hands, could you use help with painting and such?”

“I’d never turn down a helping hand,” she said. “But are you any good at it?”

“Passable. I admit, I hired tradesmen to get it done at my place, but only because I was still in D.C. and wanted the place ready when I retired. I don’t want to intrude in case you’re training your dog or running errands. Why don’t I call ahead?”

“That would work,” Muriel said. She went to the counter of her little makeshift kitchen and wrote down her number. “Or, you can always just come for your sugar.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for the wine. Very nice wine.”

“I have plenty of wine,” he said.

“And I have plenty of sugar.”

“So,” he said. “We’re in business.”

After a weekend in Virgin River, Vanni and Paul returned to Grants Pass. On Tuesday morning, Paul called Terri.