Return to Virgin River (Virgin River #19)(27)

He walked to her and kissed her cheek. “Hi, Laura.”

“Look at your wonderful pieces! You just get better all the time. You are the most fabulous artist.”

Laura was tall, thin, blonde with intense blue eyes to match his and when they stood side by side, they appeared made for each other. Her teeth were perfect and straight, her figure svelte and buxom. Of course her makeup was professional-looking and her nails were star quality. She was stunning. She wore a midlength white lace skirt, a denim jacket and drop dead gorgeous brown leather boots. And the confidence she exuded was palpable.

“And who’s this?” she asked, sticking her hand out toward Kaylee. “Hello there, I’m Laura. Landry’s wife.”

She did look every bit the actress. Kaylee suddenly felt very short and plump and way underdressed in her jeans and hoodie. “It’s a pleasure,” she said a bit awkwardly. “I’m Kaylee. I rent Landry’s house. The smaller one.”

“How wonderful!” Then Laura fluttered her lashes at him. “You look so good, Landry. You’ve been taking care of yourself. Do you have time to walk me around the fair?”

“I really can’t, Laura. I’ll be busy here the rest of the day. I’m sorry. Why don’t you look around and enjoy yourself and maybe we’ll talk later.”

“Oh, can’t your little friend manage your booth for a while?”

“Of course not,” he said, irritation in his voice. “Kaylee doesn’t know anything about these things. She just stopped by to say hello.”

“And it’s really time I get going,” Kaylee said, trying out a smile. “I still have more of this fair to see.”

She gathered up her purse and left Landry and his wife.

Wife? Hadn’t he said he was married but it didn’t work out? She must have meant she was his ex-wife. But they certainly had a cordial relationship.





* * *



Landry was immediately busy with customers, answering their questions about his wares, explaining his process and helping them choose what to buy. His was usually a busy booth and today was no different. After no more than twenty minutes Laura had wandered off, telling him she’d see him later.

Now, what was this about? he wondered. She never showed any interest in these small town fairs or the people. She admired his work but in all the years he’d lived in Virgin River, she’d only visited a few times and took no notice of the town or the people. The only time she’d mingled was at his father’s funeral.

He had to pack up his things at the end of the day. He put them in the trailer he’d brought along, put a padlock on it and left it in the parking lot. He didn’t get home until ten o’clock and there, in front of his house, was a strange car. A rental, he assumed.

A light was on in the kitchen but Laura was nowhere in sight. Otis briefly greeted him, then went back to his pallet in the living room. Landry went to the bedroom to see her in his bed. He turned on the overhead bedroom light and she sat up, startled. It was very bright.

“Landry! You scared me!”

“What are you doing here? I told you it was a bad time.”

“I told you, I wanted to see you!”

“And I told you I couldn’t break away until November.”

“So I came to you,” she said, as if that resolved the issue.

He turned and left the room. He went to the kitchen and put four ice cubes in a glass. He got down the Crown Royal from a high cupboard and poured himself a generous drink.

She came from the bedroom, tying the sash on a black satin robe. She stood on the opposite side of the counter. “Can I have one of those?” she asked.

He didn’t answer but merely got another glass, added ice and some liquor and slid it across the counter.

“Thank you,” she said. “Can we sit down?”

He pulled a bar stool around the end of the counter and sat looking at her.

“You certainly aren’t making this easy. I’ve been wanting to have a serious talk with you for a long time,” she said.

“You’ve had ten years, Laura.”

“And so have you,” she replied. “Yet here we are. So, did I interrupt something romantic between you and your friend?”

“No, she’s my tenant. We’re neighbors; we’re friendly.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“That wouldn’t intimidate you,” he said.

“Look, this is hard for me. Be kind, at least. Things are not going as I had hoped they would. I’m not getting the parts I want or need anymore. I’m being cast more often as the mother of the bride than the bride. Or the disgruntled sister or the other woman.”

“You’ve had some good parts. Some good films.” And he knew this because he’d paid attention. When she was in a TV series or feature film, he made it a point to see it.

“The truth is that at my status the work is very hard and doesn’t pay well enough. I’ve aged out at thirty-five. I’m getting character roles and TV commercials. Ads. I’m burned out and ready to try something else. I’m thinking of giving up acting.”

“Really?” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “After all this time and dedication? There are plenty of good acting jobs for women over thirty-five.”