Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(58)

Isabel laughed. “You’re not big on families?”

“Not for me. Families are a wonderful thing for other people. I like children...mostly from a distance.” She sighed. “This all makes me sound horrible and I’m not. I’m very nice. Not as nice as the people in this town, though.”

Isabel opened a dressing room door, then stepped back to let Taryn enter. The woman thanked her, then closed the door.

What an interesting person, Isabel thought. Talk about honest to a fault.

A minute or so later, Taryn walked out in the purple dress.

It was fitted, with long sleeves and a conservative hemline. But in the back, a deep, teardrop-shaped cutout turned ordinary into sexy.

Taryn stepped up onto the low platform in front of the mirrors and studied herself.

“The dress is really well made,” she said. “You’re not charging enough. The quality workmanship is only exceeded by the fabric. This is excellent. I love the fit.”

“It looks great,” Isabel said, trying not to feel bitter that the other woman was about two inches taller than her and yet a good five sizes smaller. Isabel had never minded being curvy, but every now and then she wondered if she should cut back on the cookies, or maybe go to the gym.

Without having much of a plan, Isabel walked to the accessory armoire and started opening doors and drawers. She discarded three belts before finding the right one. She also had a scarf, she thought, digging through piles of discarded props for various weddings.

When she found the scarf, she brought it and the belt to Taryn. “Try these.”

Taryn piled her hair on top of her head and turned to looked at the cutout. She released her hair and fastened the belt. “Fabulous,” she breathed as she reached for the scarf. “Is this your design?”

“No. Someone I know represents the designer. Dellina, my friend, is in town. She organizes parties and does some decorating. She asked me to carry a few pieces. They’ve been selling really well.”

“I’ll take it,” Taryn said, letting her hair fall. “But seriously, Dellina needs to tell her friend to raise her prices.” She stepped off the platform and walked barefoot toward Isabel. “I’m going to need Dellina’s number.”

“Okay, um, why?”

“As I mentioned, my business is moving here. We’re going to be buying new offices in the next few months and remodeling them. I’m guessing we’ll make the physical move in February or March of next year. At that point, I’ll need a decorator.”

“What’s the business?”

“Score. It’s a PR firm.” Taryn rolled her eyes. “My partners are former football players. They’re the ones who found Fool’s Gold. A friend of theirs had a pro-am golf tournament here and they played in it. Apparently it was love at first sight. We had a vote and I lost.” She flashed an unexpected smile. “Not to worry. I’ll figure out some way to punish them. But in the meantime, we’re relocating our headquarters.”

Former football players in Fool’s Gold? Isabel started to tell Taryn that good-looking men were always welcome, but decided the other woman might not appreciate the news.

“It’s a great place to live,” Isabel offered.

“How long have you been here?” Taryn asked.

“I grew up here, then moved to New York. I’m only back for a few months...” Her voice trailed off.

Taryn nodded. “You’re proving my point. All the good ones escape.”

Isabel laughed. “If you’re going to be around for a while, maybe you’d like to have lunch with me and my friends. It might help you feel more excited about the move. You know, if you meet a few people.”

Taryn stared at her. “Please don’t take this wrong, but is everyone nice? Because I find that to be a problem.”

“No. They’re fun and great people, and they can be snarky. Especially Charlie. In fact, I think the two of you could be very good friends.”

“Then count me in.”

* * *

THE OLD HOUSE was about an hour outside Sacramento. The large trees on the property had started changing colors, and orange and red leaves drifted across the ground. In the distance, a couple of horses ran together, as if they, too, felt the perfection of the cool fall day.

Forty or fifty cars were parked beside an old red barn with fading and peeling paint. A second barn stood a couple of dozen feet away.

“You’ve stopped pouting,” Isabel teased as she got out of the Jeep.

Ford shrugged into his beat-up leather jacket. “I wasn’t pouting.”

“Sure you were. There was heavy sighing and a few moans.”

“I didn’t moan.”

She laughed. In truth, Ford had come through on his promise to take her to an estate sale. They’d picked this one together. Although it was a fair drive from Fool’s Gold, Isabel had thought he would enjoy the variety of items being sold.

“The farmhouse has been in the family over a hundred and fifty years,” she said. “Look at it. All that attic space and outbuildings. We could find something really special today.”

“Hey, maybe I can get a tractor.”

She sighed. “Are you going to be difficult? Because if you are, can you wait in the car?”

He laughed and took her hand in his. “I’m not going to be difficult. Come on. Let’s go find some treasures.”