The You I Never Knew Part 23

"Walked."

"From town? That's six miles."

Sam made no comment. Gavin hired him on the spot.

Sam had been quietly fascinated by the parade of glitterati that came to call on the famous actor. He recognized faces from old movies, late-night talk shows, celebrity game shows. Beautiful women and well-dressed men came seeking favor, for after retiring from movies, Gavin Slade became a respected producer, picking and choosing his projects with care.

Gavin had entered Sam in a few local roping events. The purses at the small shows didn't amount to much, but Sam had a taste of something he hadn't sampled before-possibility.

Fate had worn a yellow ponytail, expensive riding clothes, and a soft-eyed, dreamy look that made him forget his place in the world.

d.a.m.n. The boss's daughter.

Could he have been more stupid?

Sam yanked open the kitchen door. Gavin was a charmer, a ladies' man. What the h.e.l.l did he want with Tammi Lee?

"Hey, Mama." Sam took off his hat, holding out his hand. "Gavin."

"Good to see you." Gavin flashed a smile, but his eyes stayed cool, wary.

"I had car trouble," Tammi Lee explained. "Gavin gave me a lift out here."

Sam relaxed a little. That seemed innocent enough. But he didn't kid himself about Gavin Slade. The old man had considered him ranch-hand sc.u.m, not good enough for his daughter. That in itself might have been forgivable, but Gavin had played hardball. Even the ruse with the missing money had been understandable, if not forgivable. What Sam couldn't ever forget, though, was that Gavin's schemes had knocked Tammi Lee in the dirt when she was already down.

"I wanted to meet Cody," Tammi Lee continued.

"He was feeling well enough to come to work." Pride touched Gavin's voice. "Frankly, I was glad to see it. A little work sure can't hurt the kid."

"So you met him, Ma?" Sam studied the lined and faded face, and he sensed the sadness that always seemed to linger at the edge of her mood. For as long as he could remember, he had felt responsible for that sadness. He knew it wasn't his fault, but he'd give anything to banish it.

"Gavin introduced us," she said. "I won't bulls.h.i.+t you, Sam. We're not the Waltons."

"I hope he was civil, at least."

She waved her hand. "I don't think we'll find much in common, but I'm glad we met. He's a good-looking boy, Sam. Reminds me of you at that age."

Sam wondered if he'd had that same screw-you att.i.tude. Maybe he had. Maybe bonking the boss's daughter had as much to do with his att.i.tude as his hormones.

"Speaking of Cody, we'd better head out." Gavin picked up his hat from the rack behind the door. "It's getting dark."

Sam shot his mother a look. Had she been hanging out with Gavin Slade all afternoon? Telling himself it was none of his business, he went out to the barn. While Gavin warmed up his truck, Sam found Cody standing at the far end of the row of stables, his shoulder propped against the door. Sam was pleased to see all the equipment had been washed down and put up. He was a lot less pleased when he saw that Cody was smoking a cigarette.

He tried to sound casual as he remarked, "Those things'll kill you."

Cody turned quickly. A rebellious look shadowed his face. "It's just something I do sometimes. I can quit anytime."

"How about now?"

"I'll choose the time."

"Well." Grabbing a water hose, Sam twisted the spray nozzle and doused both Cody's gloved hand and the cigarette. "I choose now."

"Hey!" Cody jumped back, shaking water from his hand. "That's cold as h.e.l.l."

"So don't smoke around here anymore."

"I'll do what I-"

Sam held up the hose. "Don't push me. I'm armed."

Cody flung off his glove in disgust. "You could have just asked me to put it out."

"I'm telling you to quit."

"And I'm telling you to get off my case."

They faced off, glaring like a pair of rival dogs. Sam refused to flinch, but so did Cody.

"How's your head?"

"Itches. I better get going. 'Bye." He stalked away, muttering under his breath.

Welcome to parenthood, Sam thought. Christ, how did Mich.e.l.le do it?

Thursday

Chapter 24.

Waking up was hard for Mich.e.l.le at home. She had done her bedroom in soft aquas and golds, spent an absurd amount on bedding from Nordstrom's, and invested in an imported eiderdown, the kind you sink into like a cloud. Her bedroom exuded comfort and luxury, and she responded by sleeping too long and too hard there.

In Montana, she woke up at the crack of dawn and hurried like a child to the window to look out at the long fields and pastures of her father's ranch. The sides of the mountains corrugated by the blue ripples of glaciers. The fall of light from the rising sun.

And G.o.d knew what was going to happen each day.

She got a clue when the early light glinted off a car parked in the circular drive in front of Gavin's house. There was probably only one lime green Volkswagen bug in the Northwest.

Mich.e.l.le paused to check on Cody-dead asleep, a benefit of hard physical labor-then pulled on her old gray sweats, stuffed her feet into boots, and hurried across the compound to the main house. She entered through the kitchen, greeting Tadao in pa.s.sing. The aromas of coffee and kidney-friendly roasted green tea wafted over her, but she was not hungry, just on fire to know what the h.e.l.l was going on.

Gavin and Natalie sat in the sunken living room before a roaring blaze. Gavin spotted Mich.e.l.le first; he was in the middle of laughing, and the smile on his face lifted her heart. He stood up. "Hey, Mich.e.l.le. Morning."

"Hi, Daddy. I see you've met Natalie."

"I certainly have."

"At about five o'clock this morning." Natalie's bangle bracelets and hoop earrings, silken head scarf and tie-dyed leggings, and especially her warm smile, were familiar and dear to Mich.e.l.le.

"Hey, you," she said, holding out her arms.

"Hey, you," Natalie said back, standing up to give her a hug. "I tried to get here last night, but the old Volkswagen wouldn't cooperate. I had to take a breather in Coeur d'Alene."

"You should have called, Nat."

"We talked, remember? You knew I was coming."

"Yes, but-" Normal logic didn't work with Natalie Plum. Mich.e.l.le sat down on the big leather sectional with them.

Natalie's eyes twinkled. "I acted as though I'd never seen a movie star before-"

"You haven't," Mich.e.l.le reminded her.

"Well, that explains why I kept staring and stammering." She sipped from her mug of coffee. "Your dad got all squirmy on me. You'd think he's never been awakened at five in the morning by a crazed fan before."

Her father leaned back, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. "I admit it's been a while."

He was loving this, loving every minute of it. His need to put his face in front of millions of people was nearly as strong now as it had been at the height of his career in the movie business. There were those who hungered for recognition, even though it didn't necessarily mean anything to them except recognition. She thought it was true in her father's case. Anyway, he was far from annoyed by Natalie's breathless admiration.

"So we've been up talking for a couple of hours." Natalie sent him a look of melting sympathy. "You should go back to bed now. I feel so guilty getting you up."

"I'm an early riser. And this visit was worth it." He patted his hand on a stack of fat photo alb.u.ms on the coffee table.

"You brought those from Seattle," Mich.e.l.le said, sounding slightly accusing.

"You bet I did, girlfriend." Natalie sent her a smile. "I can't believe you forgot them."

Guilt stained her cheeks. To be honest, Mich.e.l.le had never even thought of bringing the photo alb.u.ms to show her father. Never even thought he'd be interested in snapshots of Cody's first birthday, or the bike Santa brought him one year, or his first day of school.

"I loved the pictures, Mich.e.l.le," her father said quietly. "More than you can know. I'm proud of you for the life you've built for yourself and Cody."

She blinked, startled. Since she arrived at Blue Rock, they had avoided talking about certain topics. Dr. Temple and the social worker on the transplant team had been saying how important it was to discuss personal stuff, family stuff. They gave Mich.e.l.le and Gavin some little blank books for writing down thoughts and feelings. Mich.e.l.le's was still blank. She bet Gavin's was, too. So his statement about being proud of her took her by surprise.

Putting his hands on his knees, he got up, his thick heather gray sweater looking warm and comfortable on his big, lean frame. The bulkiness of the knit camouflaged the dialysis bag. "Ch.o.r.es," he explained. "I've got a meeting with the arena director."

"See you around, pardner," Natalie said in an exaggerated, corny drawl.

"Jake turned on the heat in the bungalow next to Mich.e.l.le's. If you need anything, holler."

"It's all perfect, Gavin. Thank you for welcoming me."

"My pleasure, ma'am." He went out through the kitchen, and Mich.e.l.le drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch, trying to figure out if he was flirting with her best friend or not.

Natalie and Mich.e.l.le sat alone in the living room, watching morning sunlight steal across the hand-painted tile floor. Mich.e.l.le picked up a plaid pillow, tossed it at her, saying, "You b.i.t.c.h."

She caught the pillow, laughing. "You have no idea."

Suspicion stole into Mich.e.l.le's radar range. "I don't?"

Natalie propped her sock feet on the leather-bound alb.u.ms. "I figured your dad would want to see the old family photos. But I really brought them for you to show Sam McPhee."

"G.o.d, you really are a b.i.t.c.h."

"You have to show him. You have to let him in on Cody's whole history."

"I don't have to do squat."

"Legally, probably not, unless he sues for visitation."

A chill skittered down Mich.e.l.le's spine. "He wouldn't dare."

"Who knows? But he'll want to see the pictures."

"You know what makes you such a b.i.t.c.h?"

"What?"

"It's that you're right."

She grinned. "I know. So when are you going to show him?"

"I guess I could today, when I drop Cody off to work at his ranch. Sam's on split s.h.i.+ft." It was amazing how quickly Mich.e.l.le had memorized his schedule. He'd explained how he split the clinic duties with his partner, how his on-call situation worked. He'd only told her once, yet she had absorbed it like a sponge. Funny.

"You don't have any more... appointments and stuff with your father?"

"It all starts Sat.u.r.day." She took a shaky breath, silently blessing Sam for intervening with Dr. Temple.

Natalie held Mich.e.l.le's cheeks between her hands. "Do you know how special this is?"

Mich.e.l.le swallowed a sudden painful lump in her throat. "I can't seem to look at it as anything more than a fairly complicated surgical procedure."

"It's so much more than that." She stood up, tossing a glance outside at her car. "I've been naughty."

Mich.e.l.le picked up the heavy leather alb.u.ms. "True."

"I mean, not just the photos. For once in your life, you've got time to get back into painting."

Not you, too. Mich.e.l.le got the feeling Natalie had colluded with Sam about this. Or maybe her secret wish was absurdly obvious. "Give me a break," she said flatly.

"As if." Outside, Natalie lifted the front hood of the Volkswagen, revealing the trunk. In addition to her luggage, there were shopping bags from Madrona Bay Art Supply in Seattle.

Mich.e.l.le's heart lurched. Madrona Bay was a Mecca for fine artists all over the West. The store was one of the first things she had discovered when, newly pregnant, she'd moved to Seattle. She used to save every last sc.r.a.ped-together dime to buy art supplies. It was a magical place, filled with all the things she needed to give life to the images burning inside her.

She hadn't been there in years, though.