Moon Over Montana

Linda drove off thinking of her promise to Tag. But she hadn’t planned to go to his place until midafternoon—probably around three—so she could take her time at the school. There’d been so much talk among students and teachers alike about the science fair, that Linda had become quite excited about her part in it. Actually, the upcoming event had her thinking about something similar for art students. Those with a little talent and a lot of hope would benefit greatly from community recognition.

But that would have to wait until next year, although it certainly was food for thought during the summer months ahead.

Driving west on Main Street, Linda felt the heat of the sun and switched on the air conditioner. It wasn’t nearly as hot as it got in inland California, but no one could call it cool in Rumor today. Linda glanced up at the brilliant, blue, cloudless sky. People were worried about the hot, dry conditions, but the area was so lovely to Linda’s eyes that she wondered if they weren’t worried over nothing.

But what about the low water level in Lake Monet? And the yellow, crisp grass? The people who are worried have lived here much longer than I have.

Linda laughed at her one-sided conversation. She’d talked to herself in California, too, because she had spent almost as much time alone during her marriage as she did now.

“Oh, well,” she said under her breath, eluding another trip down memory lane like the one she had taken last night.

But last night had been pretty weird, what with outside noises causing her imagination to run wild. And then there were those thoughts about wanting to be a real woman. Good grief, if she wasn’t real now, what was she? Funny how different things looked under a bright sun.

Linda parked in her assigned space and walked from the carport to the apartment building. This complex was especially attractive because of the huge pine trees on the property. Also, Heck kept the lawn watered and neatly trimmed, which created a pleasing sense of being surrounded by cool greenery.

Halfway between the carport and the building, Linda caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head in that direction and saw only large pines. Either her eyes were playing tricks on her or one of the neighborhood kids was. She smiled and continued on to her front door.

Lurking behind one of those pines, Alfred was close to hyperventilating. Making sure that he stayed concealed by the girth of the tree, he raised his arm and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He hadn’t been able to get near her apartment because that miserable dog inside had barked louder than a foghorn without stopping for air until Alfred had sidled away. His hope now was that she would take that little yapper for a long walk.

Linda went in and greeted Tippy with a smile and a pat on the head. He ran around in circles for a minute to show how happy he was to see her, then followed her up the stairs and settled down on his rug.

She took off her dress and pulled on pale green slacks and a blouse. She was ready to go in minutes and Tippy followed her back to the first floor, where she took time to check his water dish. She had walked and fed him before church and he didn’t act as if he needed to go outside again, so she refreshed his water, patted his head and said, “So long, slugger. I have to leave again for a while. Keep the bad guys at bay, all right?”

That was what she usually said to her adorable pooch before leaving him alone in the apartment, and she had always considered her request to be rather funny. Tippy wasn’t much bigger than a large cat and she couldn’t imagine his keeping anything at bay. Actually, his ferocity, although he did have a loud bark, would probably earn nothing more than a dirty look from a cat.

Alfred spotted Linda leaving again—without Tippy—and muttered some choice curses under his breath. The trouble with apartment buildings—especially this one—was that the units were too close together. If that woman didn’t have a dog, he would have gotten into her unit on his first try, found the stupid book that Paul wanted so badly and already be back in Los Angeles. Oh, how he wished he were back in Los Angeles!

A groan accompanied Alfred’s burst of self-pity. He was not a violent man. He might despise Linda Fioretti and her dog—and blame them for his misery in this awful place—but he could barely make himself step on spiders. And Paul had made it clear that his ex-wife was not to be harmed in any way. Alfred recalled feeling very hurt that Paul would think it necessary to say such a thing to him.

But he really should not have let it injure his feelings, because Paul and his circle of friends—the exact group that Alfred wanted so much to be an important part of—only knew Al Wallinski as a tough guy. Alfred’s chest expanded a bit at that thought. He liked Paul thinking of him as tough, and when this job in Montana was finally accomplished and Alfred returned to California, Paul would probably praise him to high heaven and invite him to Fioretti’s for a meal with his closest pals.

Daydreaming about future glory was Alfred’s favorite pastime. But it occurred to him that he had better stop wasting time and make a move.

But what move would that be? People were coming and going around the apartment building. Five or six kids in bathing suits had started running through a sprinkler not far from Linda’s front door. And if he dared get near her door, that rotten dog of hers would make so much noise someone would probably call the cops.

Discouraged and hot, Alfred made his way from tree to tree until he reached the huge bank of bushes and shrubs at the back of the lot. Cautiously he crawled in among the leaves and scratchy limbs. When he came to the piece of bare ground that he’d been using off and on to conceal himself and still keep an eye on Linda’s apartment, he lay down and made sure he could see through the dense foliage.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but lying in that cool place, with the laughter of children at play and the soothing, repetitious sound of the sprinkler spraying water on grass and small people alike, Alfred’s eyes got heavy. He was snoring in five minutes.

There were three cars and two bicycles parked near the entrance to the high school’s gymnasium. Linda parked her SUV at the end of the line, got out and went into the gym. Spotting Guy at the far end of the room, she started toward him. A youthful male voice stopped her. “Hi, Ms. Fioretti.”

Linda turned to see Michael Cantrell, dressed, as usual, in baggy jeans and a huge shirt. His baseball cap was stuffed into a pocket of his pants, and Linda knew that when he put it on again, its visor would be shading the back of his neck instead of his eyes.

“Hello, Michael.” Linda smiled. “I hear you’re entering a project in the fair.”

Michael grinned. “Sure am.”

“That’s wonderful. What’s it all about?”

“Uh, I want it to be a surprise, Ms. Fioretti.”

Linda smiled again at the fourteen-year-old. He was tall and lanky with the angular build of a boy growing so fast his flesh couldn’t keep up with his bones. Like his father, Max, and his uncle Guy, Michael had dark hair and blue eyes. The Cantrell brothers were handsome men and Linda could see the same good looks developing in Michael.

Plus, he was smart. His grades were phenomenal. He was taking advanced courses in science and math because he was too far beyond the normal ninth-grade level.

The first time Linda had met Michael she had wished he were interested in art so he would be in one of her classes. But he was a scientist, like his uncle Guy, and Linda had heard from several sources, Guy himself, for one, that Michael spent a lot of time in Guy’s home, getting involved in his uncle’s inventions and ideas. Linda thought it wonderful training for a young man so taken with science to have someone like Guy in his family.

All the while, she had been very curious about the project Michael would bring to this year’s science fair.

“You’re not even giving out hints?” she asked teasingly. Michael’s cheeks got red, and she knew that she had put him on the spot. “I’m only kidding, Michael. You have every right to keep your project a secret.”

“Uh, thanks, Ms. Fioretti.”

“Well, I should get to work. See you later, Michael.” Linda left the boy and headed toward Guy.

“I want tuna fish,” Samantha Kingsley declared emphatically.

“You always want tuna fish,” Tag responded. He’d been looking for something to fix for their lunch, and obligingly he got out a can of tuna. It was healthy food and Samantha loved it. He didn’t love it, but since they were going to have hamburgers for dinner, a tuna sandwich for lunch wouldn’t kill him. “Get the bread while I mix this stuff,” he said.

Samantha could barely reach the bread box, and Tag had to force himself to stand by and let her do it without his help. The hardest part of parenting, he was beginning to realize, was giving your child room to grow and do things for herself. Sammy was five years old and a tiny little thing, so adorable that Tag’s heart melted every time he looked at her. She had light brown hair with wispy curls that touched her shoulders and big hazel eyes; she had his eyes, Tag knew, same color, same shape. But Sammy’s eyes contained something that his did not: sadness. She had still been an infant when her mother died, and while Tag knew Sammy loved him with all of her little heart, she wished that she had a mommy. Other kids did. Why didn’t she? Even though Tag answered every question Sammy asked about her mother, he knew his answers didn’t quite fill the void in his daughter’s world.

“No mustard, Daddy,” Samantha said.

Tag chuckled. He had merely moved the container of mustard to reach the jar of mayonnaise. Sammy’s sharp eyes missed very little.

“Aw, heck, I thought you’d like some mustard in your tuna today,” he said.

Samantha giggled. “You’re teasing me.”

When the sandwiches were made, he put them on paper plates, along with a few potato chips and a slice of dill pickle, and brought them to the table.

Samantha scrambled up into her chair while Tag poured two glasses of milk.

“Mmm, good,” Samantha said after her first bite.

“Simply delicious,” Tag said dryly after his first bite. “Hey, small fry, we might have a guest for dinner today.”

“Who?”

“A very nice lady I met yesterday. I’m painting her apartment. Her name is Linda Fioretti, and she’s a teacher at the high school.”

“Okay.” Samantha took a drink of her milk.

“I think we’ll have barbecued burgers. What do you think?”

“Does she like burgers?”

“Everyone likes burgers. Don’t they?”

Samantha shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Maybe I should go to the store and buy some warthog. Maybe she would like barbecued warthog better than a burger.”

Samantha giggled a second time. “You’re teasing me again.”

Tag grinned. “Sometimes I just can’t help myself. That’s ’cause you’re so cute when you giggle.”

“Oh, Daddy, you’re funny.”

“So it’s all right with you if we have a lady over for dinner?”

Samantha nodded and took another bite of sandwich. “We should have ice cream for dessert,” she said with her mouth full.

“You are absolutely right. Which flavor goes with barbecued burgers?”

“Strawberry.”

It was Samantha’s favorite. “Yes, I believe you are right again. Strawberry it will be. We’ll go to the store after lunch, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tag hadn’t expected any other answer.

Linda returned home around two. She walked from carport to apartment building humming under her breath. After much discussion and thought, the final layout for the fair was planned in a way that gave each entrant equal visibility, or as close to equal as Linda had been able to make it. She was satisfied with the results of her labor, and so was Guy. He had thanked her profusely before they went their separate ways.

Unlocking her apartment door, she smiled because she could hear Tippy dancing around on the other side.

Alfred woke up, realized that Linda was home again and at the same moment saw the snake. It was a tiny thing, a little tan garter snake that began slithering away the second the huge beast in the bushes opened its eyes. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Alfred jumped straight up and plowed a new trail through the bushes.

At her door, Linda heard the screams, looked for their source and saw a grown man running from the bushes at the back of the lot. She realized after a second that he was shouting, “Snake! Snake!”

“What kind of snake?” she called, but the guy was still running and apparently didn’t hear her. The kids playing nearby came up to her.

“Who’s that guy?” one boy asked.

“I don’t know, but he’s yelling something about a snake.” Linda began frowning. There was something familiar about the screaming runner.

“Let’s go find it!” the boy said, and the children all ran to the bank of bushes to search for the snake.

“Be careful,” Linda called to them. “It could be a rattler.”

It wasn’t. The kids were disappointed. “It’s just an old garter snake,” the apparent leader of the group said as they left the poor snake to its own devices. “And it’s not even a big one.”

Forgetting snake, bushes, frightened running man and everything else about the incident, the kids went back to their games.

Linda stepped into her apartment and absentmindedly greeted Tippy the way she usually did. But her thoughts were on the grown man who had been so frightened by a little garter snake that he’d run off shrieking like a wild person. Had he been in the bushes? They were dense and scratchy and even the neighborhood children walked around them. Why on earth would a grown-up do something that children sensibly avoided? And he was familiar, although she couldn’t say with absolute certainty that he was the same man who had knocked twice on her door and then run off when she opened it. Was he also the one who had walked into her apartment yesterday? And the person who had done some sneaking around the building last night? What in heaven’s name was going on? Did he just haunt this apartment building or was he doing the same to the other apartment complexes on the street?

Linda had been planning to wear her green slacks and blouse when she went to Tag’s house, but they had gotten a bit soiled at the gym, so she went upstairs—with Tippy following, of course—to change clothes once again.

Pondering the ambiguities of a strange man hanging around the neighborhood—was he dangerous or merely simpleminded?—Linda took a quick shower. Without giving much thought to what might be appropriate clothing for a visit to a man’s carpentry shop—and perhaps for eating a burger with him and his daughter—she pulled on a full-skirted, Hawaiian-print sundress. With sandals on her feet, she brushed her long hair and fluffed it around her face. A little lipstick and a little blusher finished the job. She was ready to leave again.

But first she would take Tippy for a short walk. He probably had to go outside by now.

It was Alfred’s big chance. The kids had either gone indoors or to the other side of the building. Linda, with Tippy on his leash, left the apartment and walked down the street.

But Alfred was already in his motel room, still feeling all creepy crawly because of that horrifying snake.

“My God, my God,” he groaned hoarsely every time he thought of how close to a painful death he had come today. He had to get hold of that book and out of Montana before he lost his mind.

Or his life!

In good weather Tag worked in his shop with the door open so he could keep an eye on Samantha playing in the backyard. During winter months he brought her inside to the corner playroom he’d built expressly for her use. She was rarely out of his sight, although he had come to rely on Rumor Rugrats, the preschool and nursery started by Susannah McCord, his soon-to-be sister-in-law. She and Russell, Tag’s oldest brother, were presently in China. After a lavish party to announce their engagement, they had traveled to the country to finalize the adoption of a young Chinese girl. When they returned with their daughter, they would be married.

Today Sammy wasn’t Tag’s only concern. He kept looking at his driveway and at the street, watching for Linda. She would come, wouldn’t she? Darn, he should have set a time for her arrival. He could have asked, “What time is best for you tomorrow?” He could have said, “I’m going to be on pins and needles all day until you get there.” He could have said, “I’m not sure what to call this feeling I have for you, but it already seems to be a permanent part of the man I am.”

Tag shook his head wryly. He should not have said anything more than he had. He had invited Linda to look at his work and have an informal meal with him and Sammy. Anything else would have been overkill, possibly a turnoff for a woman with Linda’s intelligence. She had said yes, that she would come by, and he should stop acting like a lovesick half-wit and believe she kept her promises.

His current project was a headboard for Samantha’s new bed. About a month ago Tag had decided she was ready for a full-size mattress, and the little girl loved the grown-up bed he had bought for her. But he hadn’t purchased a headboard. That, he would build himself. It was reaching the finishing stages, and today he worked on smoothing the wood with fine sandpaper until it felt like satin to his fingertips.

This kind of work was perfect for a man with a lot on his mind. Linda was at the center of his thoughts, but why wouldn’t she be when she was the first woman he’d met since Mel’s death who reminded him that he was still young, still virile and living like a monk?

Tag had grown up in the loving, wealthy household of the Kingsley family, and from an early age he hadn’t wanted to get involved in the family business, which included the MonMart chain of retail outlets and a large cattle and horse ranch. Carpentry was his passion, and around the time he’d broken the news of his career choice to his father, he’d also learned his high school sweetheart, Melanie, was pregnant.

To support his burgeoning family, Tag studied carpentry as an apprentice and took any job he could find. He’d known early on what was important in life—his daughter Samantha, his wife Mel and his work.

Unfortunately, Mel’s substance abuse problem, which had begun in high school worsened, and she died of a drug overdose. Tag felt as if he’d failed both Mel and his precious daughter. He’d lived in a cloud of despair ever since.

Meeting Linda seemed to have parted the clouds and let the sun in. Small wonder he was excited about her coming by today, he thought.

When he heard a car pull into the driveway, his heart skipped a beat. Dusting his hands with a clean cloth, he stepped out of his shop. Samantha immediately left her toys and went to stand by her daddy.

Linda got out of her SUV and sent a smile to father and daughter. “Hello,” she called.

“Hello,” Tag said, and taking Samantha’s little hand in his began walking toward the incredible woman in the brightly colored dress who had not only kept her promise to come by but had arrived looking ravishingly beautiful. Every feeling that had been born yesterday intensified in Tag’s system. He knew pretty much what to call that burning ache: he was falling very hard, very fast for Linda, and God help him if she didn’t feel the same about him.

She walked toward him and Sammy as they walked toward her. Linda’s gaze darted from Tag to his daughter and back again. His child was beautiful and so was he. A choking sensation rose in Linda’s throat; something serious was happening to her, something that she was afraid to label or even attempt to understand.

“Thanks for coming,” Tag said. “This is Samantha…or Sammy. Samantha, this is Ms. Fioretti.”

Linda bent over to be closer to the beautiful little girl. “Hello, Samantha,” she said softly.

“Hello,” the child said shyly.

The feelings flooding Linda’s system almost brought tears to her eyes. This child touched her soul, and if love at first sight was more than just a dream devised by romantics, then it had just struck her straight in the heart.

“I would like it if you called me Linda,” she said.

“Okay.”

Linda straightened and deliberately looked beyond Tag and Sammy, as she feared her eyes might be just a little too shiny.

“You have a very nice place,” she said. Then she spotted the sign above the wide door of the carpentry shop. “Carpenter for Rent,” she read aloud. Smiling again, she looked at Tag. “Are you really for rent?”

“For the right person, any time of the day or night,” he said softly.

A tingling thrill went up Linda’s spine. He meant her, she realized. He meant that she was the right person and that he was available if she wanted him.

“Sammy, I’m going to show Linda the shop. She’s interested in some bookcases. I’d like you to go back to your dolls for a while, sweetheart. We’ll take care of business first, then we’ll make those burgers.”

Tag had spoken to his daughter, but his eyes were saying a thousand other things to Linda. What was so unusual about this exchange was that she couldn’t seem to break eye contact with him, although, in all honesty, she wondered if she really wanted to. The air seemed electrically charged. With each breath she took, the stirring sensations in the pit of her stomach became more pronounced.

“Okay, Daddy.” Sammy smiled shyly at Linda, then turned and ran off to her sandbox.

“Tag, she’s wonderful,” Linda said in a voice made husky by emotion. “You’re very fortunate to have her.”

“I know.” The pupils of his eyes became darker. “You’re so beautiful you take my breath.”

She felt her face color. “Maybe…maybe we should…I mean, maybe you should show me your shop.”

“Did I embarrass you? That wasn’t my intention. You are beautiful, Linda. I thought so yesterday, and seeing you again….” Tag stopped and bit down on his lower lip for a second. There was a slight frown between his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never met anyone like you before. Probably because there is no one else like you.”

Linda studied his face, looking for a lie, searching for something that would scare her off. All she saw was intense admiration and the open, honest expression of a man saying what was in his heart. Her own feelings swelled and turned into words.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, either,” she whispered.

Tag looked into her eyes for a long, sexually charged moment then took her hand. “Let’s go to the shop.”

Linda felt dazed. His hand around hers was big and warm and felt like a connection to life itself, to all of the things she had never experienced. She was real and Tag was real, and what was happening between them was more real than the building they entered together.

Inside, virtually alone with him—although Sammy was only about twenty feet away from the opened door of the shop—she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and saw Tag watching the perfectly natural gesture with yearning eyes.

She gently disengaged her hand from his and began looking around. There were all sorts of tools and workbenches, and she saw a headboard on one of them and then a child’s play area in the far corner.

“For Samantha,” she said quietly. “You’re a protective father.”

“Comparable to a she-bear with cubs,” Tag said with a slight grin.

“It’s very clean in here. I think I expected sawdust…and… Oh, there’s the furniture you’ve finished.” She left him to walk over to an elegant dining table with a Sold sign on it. “You actually built this?” she asked in amazement.

Tag nodded. “Sure did.”

“You’re not just an ordinary carpenter, you’re a craftsman, an artist.” Linda moved to some chairs and then a coffee table. “Oh, these are all wonderful.”

“Glad you like them. What I like is you.”

Linda sucked in a startled breath.

Tag moved directly in front of her and put his hands on her waist. “I don’t need a year to decide on whether or not yesterday was a red-letter day, Linda. I knew it only minutes after meeting you. And I’ll tell you something else. I don’t say things like that to every woman I meet. You can ask anyone in this town and they’ll all inform you that I’m pretty much a loner. Once in a great while I go down to Joe’s Bar and have a beer or two. That’s about the extent of my social life.”