New Year's Wedding

“That’s a nice note in a sad story.” He shifted in his seat with a sudden smile. “It seems to be turning out well, after all. Back to you. Are you spoiled and demanding? Like, only red M&M’s when you do interviews and only classical music on the sound system when you’re modeling?”

“Of course.” She replied with a straight face. “Except yellow M&M’s rather than red, country-western rather than classical, and only dark-haired men in the shot with me.”

“Because the contrast shows off your golden goddess looks?”

Golden goddess. Was that a compliment, she wondered, or an accusation? She couldn’t tell. “No. Playing the diva is never in the interest of the work. It’s just my personal preference in men.”

“Of course. I presume you have character and spirit standards, as well? Because, you know, hair color doesn’t really tell you anything.”

She ran a smiling look over his old-gold hair and blue eyes. “You come closest to those.”

* * *

UH, OH. He realized it would be wise to withdraw even as he leaned toward her. She wasn’t at all what he’d expected of a fawned-over celebrity. And the moment she’d turned to him for help, he’d run away with her. It was unsettling to know she’d had such an effect on him. He was as fun-loving as the next bachelor, but he wasn’t a thrill-seeker as a rule, or particularly reckless. He’d had a sick father; had to quit school. Life had been hard, but that had made him a practical man. “Well, no man worth his salt—even one with the wrong hair color—can resist a beautiful woman in distress.”

She stared at him an extra minute then pointed at the window to the heavy clouds around them. “I understand it rains all the time in Oregon.”

“Not all the time,” he corrected. “Just October to April, but climate change has made every year less predictable than the one before. Of course, I have only five years of Beggar’s Bay weather history to go by. I’m a transplant from Idaho, and we lived in Europe until I was in high school. My parents taught at American schools there—mostly in Italy and Spain. We went to Paris once, though I don’t remember much about it. But I’ve never been to New York, except at the airport. I’m happy in Beggar’s Bay.”

“I have seen many of the world’s most beautiful places—big cities, natural wonders, postcard views—and they’re a feast for the soul. But the heart needs something else.”

He kept his surprise to himself. The heart? Of course, supermodels had heart. He’d seen her in Texas with her rediscovered family and the children at the foster home in Querida. But this observation seemed to be about something else; something very personal.

“Your heart’s searching for something?”

“Isn’t everyone’s?”

She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, away from him. Hmm. Interesting woman. Impulsive and trusting, but holding a few secrets?

Well. Not his problem. After the wedding, she’d probably go back to Paris or New York or wherever the next shoot was and it would be as though their paths had never crossed. Just as well.

It was dusk when the pilot’s voice came over the speaker to tell them they were beginning to descend and asking that they fasten their seat belts. She’d been fidgety and restless most of the flight and had just dozed off a few moments before. He reached out to fasten her belt rather than wake her. The small movement woke her. She looked into his eyes and said sleepily, “I didn’t dream this. You are here.” Her grateful look pinned and melted him.

“I am,” he said easily, as though he ran off with supermodels every day.

* * *

DARKNESS HAD FALLEN when they began the drive home in a rented gray pickup he’d thought would handle the road better than the luxury car she’d suggested. It was raining hard, water from the winding, poorly lit road splashing around them.

Cassie imagined tomorrow morning’s articles.

Popular 25-year-old supermodel Cassiopeia, AKA Cassidy Jane Chapman, was killed on Highway 101 on the central Oregon coast when the car in which she was a passenger swerved off the wet road and into a tree. Before the scene in Ireland that might have ended her career, she was the face of Eterna Beauty, Belle Face Pharmaceuticals, Heart and Soul Perfume, as well as many other products. Clothing designer Josephine Bergerac of the award-winning Empress line of eveningwear wept as she told CNN, “There will never be another body like Cassie’s for my clothes. I am done.”

All right, so maybe Josie wouldn’t give up her work if Cassie died, but her friends and family would miss her. Her father would be devastated.

Grady slammed on the brakes as something large with four legs ran across the road just feet in front of them. Water flew around them as he skidded, and they finally came to a stop in the other lane. His bright lights illuminated a break in the trees through which the animal had disappeared. Cassie got a quick impression of a large brown body and a white rump.

“You okay?” he asked, catching her shoulder until she turned toward him. He looked her over.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless, her heart hammering.

He expelled a breath then checked his rearview mirror as she watched the road for oncoming traffic. They seemed to be alone. Then a smaller version of whatever had raced past them loped across the road and into that break in the trees. This time she saw the first buds of antlers on a beautiful young head.

“I didn’t realize deer were so big,” she said as he turned back into their lane.

“Those were elk,” he replied. “Roosevelt Elk. When a doe goes by, there’s often a young one behind her. The Oregon Coast is full of them.”

“Do you see them in Beggar’s Bay?”

“I do. I live in an A-frame in the woods. They’re a little shy, but they like to eat the salmonberries on the other side of my backyard.”

She, on the other hand, didn’t live anywhere. At least, not tonight. Her hasty departure from Texas had left several details about the next few days unresolved. “When we get to Beggar’s Bay, can you just drop me at a motel, please? I’ll buy you dinner as a thank-you if there’s a restaurant nearby.” She made a face when she heard her own words. “Not that dinner could repay you for helping me.”

He shook his head, dismissing that idea as he turned onto a long, straight stretch of road. “We don’t have a motel. We have a couple of B and Bs, but they’re probably full because of the holidays.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “What about the next town?”

“It’s another ten miles. Why don’t you just stay with me? I have a spare bedroom and a bath. You’ll have privacy until the wedding. You know you’re safe with me because your brother would kill me if I let anything happen to you.” He was quiet for a moment and then he asked, “What are you going to do? I mean, ultimately. You can’t hide from the press forever, and you must have jobs lined up.”

“Workwise, I have a couple of months off, but I promised to do a charity show in early January,” she said. “Maybe I’ll travel around a little after. I’ve worked hard so I could pull together some weeks to relax. Turns out my timing was perfect. Meanwhile, the whole family’s flying home tonight on the red-eye, so it’s possible I can bunk with one of them.” She nodded gratefully. “But I’d appreciate staying at your place tonight if you’re sure it’s all right.”

“I’m sure. Just relax. We’ll be home in half an hour.”

Relaxing didn’t seem to be an option. Used to sitting in the back of a limo or a taxi, she was a little unnerved by the bumpy ride. The in-your-face view from the passenger seat was filled with tall trees and deep darkness, except for the path of his headlights and an occasional light suggesting a house some distance off the highway.

Grady drove with calm competence despite the near accident, and she kept quiet, appreciating his need to concentrate.

The headlights finally picked out a sign that read Welcome to Beggar’s Bay. Population 8,912.

The edge of town was heavily forested, but lights and signs of habitation began to thicken. Finally they drove through three blocks of a brightly lit downtown. He turned up a road and pointed past her to a construction site where a three-story building was going up. “That’s the assisted-living facility your brother Jack’s wife, Sarah, is heading up. I’m just another mile this way.”

Lights became spotty again and trees crowded the road.

He eventually turned up a side road for a short distance, then into the driveway of a tall, brightly lit A-frame house. It was trimmed in Christmas lights. She smiled in surprise. “When you said an A-frame, I imagined something simpler. The lights are beautiful.”

Grady’s home had a rustic façade with a central fieldstone chimney and high, wide, wedge-shaped windows on either side. Stilts supported a wraparound deck and, to the left of the house, terraced bricks held large pots with green plants.

“I got it for a steal when I moved here. It had been vacant for a year and a half, and the owner was anxious to get out from under two mortgages. I didn’t get a tree up before I went to Texas.”

He groaned as he pulled in beside a red-and-white Mini Cooper. “My mother’s here.” He turned off the car and gave Cassie a rueful smile. “I was hoping she’d still be in Reno. She’ll want to know all about you.”

Cassie smiled. “That’s okay. I have nothing to hide.” Mostly. She unbuckled her belt with a philosophical shrug. “While my father is kind and caring, he’s made poor choices in women in the past. I imagine that’s how I was born. It’ll be nice to meet a real mother.”

“Yeah.” His tone was doubtful. “You’re such an innocent, Cassie,” he teased, then frowned at the simple dress she wore. “I don’t suppose you have rain gear in your luggage?”

“I don’t. I was expecting to stay in sunny Texas. But I’ll be fine. It’s not that far to the front door, is it?” She peered through the windshield. “Where is the front door?”

“Halfway back on the left side. Just run for the shelter of the deck overhang. Here.” He yanked off the white cotton sweater he wore and held it over her head. She put her arms into the sleeves and he pulled it down. “It isn’t too much protection, but better than nothing.”

She was surrounded by the scent of male and something dry and spicy with a suggestion of pine. The cotton was warm from his body. “Thank you,” she said. He let himself out of the truck.

The rain was torrential—and cold. It struck her face and bare legs when she hesitated to get her bearings. Grady caught her hand and pulled her with him as he ran for the shelter of the overhang. She blinked against raindrops and followed, slowing as he did halfway up the walkway at the side of the house. A door flew open.

Cassie caught a glimpse of a woman in the doorway who was probably in her late fifties. She was wearing a beige turtleneck sweater and dark blue pants. She held the door open as Grady passed her in a rain-soaked T-shirt.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, pulling Cassie inside.

“Hi, Mrs. Nelson.” Cassie smiled into the woman’s suspicious expression as she tripped in after Grady.

Grady’s mother had permed gray hair without much style, brown eyes and a slightly pointy nose and chin. Her skin was beautiful and only lightly lined around her eyes.

“Hello,” she replied, frowning at the large sweater she must know to be her son’s. Then her eyes went to Cassie’s face—and stopped—and widened. She finally said in a stricken whisper, “Oh! My! God!”

They were in a sort of foyer. Cassie looked worriedly at Grady.

“You’re not, are you?” his mother asked Cassie. She stepped a little closer, staring at her, closed her eyes and then opened them again.

Cassie wasn’t as used to this kind of reaction as someone might think. In most situations, she was surrounded by other celebrities, famous—or notorious. She refused to shrink away.

“You are!” Grady’s mother answered her own question.

Grady kissed his mother’s cheek. “Mom, this is Cassidy Chapman. Her sister, Corie, is marrying Ben on New Year’s Day, so she’s come to the wedding. Cassie, this is my mother, Diane Nelson.” Then he took Cassie’s arm and led her through a doorway into a bright kitchen decorated in blue and white.

Grady’s mother followed. “Thank God you made coffee, Mom,” Grady said as he went to the coffeepot on the counter. Cassie turned to face his mother, guessing by her grim expression that something bad was coming. She braced herself.

“You’ve recovered quickly from your nervous breakdown,” Diane said. As Cassie stared at her in disbelief, she added, “The screaming scene you made at that Irish mansion was on SAN—Stars at Night—just a few hours ago. Somebody took a cell phone video.”

CHAPTER TWO

“MOM!” GRADY CAME back to Cassie as she struggled to find a sense of equilibrium.

Come on, she told herself. You do it for the camera all the time. What’s happened to you personally is hidden behind whatever the camera needs from you. And you had to know this was coming. Just not so soon.

“I...I had a bad moment there,” she said, simplifying an explanation. “It’s a long story.”

“The reporter speculated that you were upset because Fabiana Capri got the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition and you didn’t. She thought maybe it was just a temper tantrum.”

Cassie was speechless.

“I’m a celebrity news junkie,” Diane said a little smugly. “SAN had the whole story.”

Sure. Entertainment news paid a lot of money for the inside skinny about celebrities. There’d been enough technical people and assistants at the shoot that one of them was bound to find the money appealing.

Unused to being so disliked so quickly, Cassie fought for composure. She met Diane’s condemning brown eyes calmly. “They may have had the story, but it wasn’t accurate. I guess that comes from speculating instead of getting the facts.”

“What are the facts?”

Grady came to stand between them and handed Cassie the cup of coffee. He frowned at his mother. “Cassie is a guest here for a few days, and I’d appreciate it if you would be polite. You know, like you taught me to be?” He added that last with emphasis.

“It’s all right,” Cassie insisted, transferring the cup to her left hand and offering her right to Diane. The woman did look like a grassroots sort of mother, the kind who would see that you ate from the food pyramid, got your eight hours of sleep and were polite to your elders. And would kill any predators that came near you. Cassie had dreamed her entire life of having such a mother.

“If she saw me acting like a crazy woman on television, she probably fears for your safety.” She sent Grady a wry grin then smiled at his mother, who looked a little surprised but still suspicious. “I assure you I’m a very sane, ordinary woman who’s been working too hard for too long. I snapped.” Everything inside her shuddered as she remembered that moment, but she struggled to look like the normal woman she insisted she was. “I had just learned my brother and sister, whom I hadn’t seen since I was a toddler, were in Texas, and I sort of lost it while trying to finish the shoot before I could join them.”

His mother shook her head. “Shouldn’t you have gone to be with them instead of agreeing to work?”

“I agreed to work just hours before my father called me with the news. That shoot was expensive, and all those people were away from their families during the holidays to get it done. It would have been selfish of me to leave them all there and ask them to come back again later. To incur all that expense a second time.”

Diane granted her that with a reluctant “True.”

“So I was anxious to get it done quickly while still doing a good job, but the designer had insisted on false eyelashes and the makeup artist was having trouble with them and I was tired and antsy and sort of lost it.”

“Sort of?”

Cassie ignored that and went on. She was glad she’d missed Stars at Night’s report on her behavior. “We were having a wonderful time in Texas until the press descended. I had to get away or ruin the holiday for everyone. Grady helped me get away out the back, drove to the airport and...” She spread her arms as she looked around her at the comfortable kitchen. “Here we are. You have a lovely son.”

From behind her, Grady questioned, “Lovely?”

His mother studied her as though she were a lab rat. She answered grudgingly, “He is a nice boy.”

“Boy?” Grady again.

* * *

CASSIE HAD HAD a nervous breakdown? That surprised Grady. Or maybe that information was just wrong, considering it was Hollywood gossip. Except for the occasional moody withdrawal, Cassie seemed very together. Though she had appeared a little tense on the plane.

Grady frowned at his mother, though he understood her bad manners. She loved him. She wanted what was best for him. She just had trouble understanding what that was or that it was up to him and not her.

“We’ve had a long day, Mom. Thanks for coming to welcome me home.” He wanted to add, “You can go now,” but was hoping she’d take the hint.

Instead she pointed toward the living room. “Your aunts and I had a lucky streak in Reno, so I bought you a little something to thank you for driving us down. It was delivered this afternoon.”

“You did? What’s that?”

“An armoire for your television.”

Cassie spotted it through the open door into the living room and took off to investigate, probably anxious to escape the tension in the kitchen. He didn’t blame her. He tried to follow her but his mother caught his arm.

“What are you thinking?” she demanded.

He struggled for patience. “About what?”

“About that girl!”

“She’s not a girl. She’s a woman. A very nice woman.”

“A nice crazy woman. And what do you think she’s doing with you?”

He growled. “I explained all that. She’s here for Ben’s wedding to her sister.”

“Oh, Grady.” His mother put a hand to her head as though it throbbed. “She’s using you to escape reality. Apparently she freaked out because she can’t deal with her life.” She lowered her hand and rolled her eyes. “Has to be hard, right? Millions of dollars in income, on the cover of magazines, dating super jocks and movie stars, and when she doesn’t get what she wants—like the cover of Sports Illustrated—she has a tantrum. Do you really need that? I mean, given what happened with your last—?”

“Mom,” he interrupted firmly. “Her sister is Ben’s fiancée. Jack’s been trying so hard to put his family back together since he came home from Afghanistan. Now they’re all going to be together for the wedding on New Year’s Day and Cassie is staying with me until she goes back to work. It’s going to be a happy family time for all of them, and no one is going to spoil it. Got it?”

“Sort of. What I don’t get is what a supermodel is going to find to do in Beggar’s Bay. With you.”

He tipped his head back in exasperation. “I wish you’d stop saying that as though I have no right to be in the same world as her.”

She blinked, maternal concern alight in her eyes. “I meant that she doesn’t have the right to be in the same world as you.”

He was still annoyed with her but put his arm around her. That was mother-love. A supermodel who made millions and was known the world over wasn’t good enough for Diane Nelson’s son. “I’m a trained police officer, Mom. If she decides to run off with my savings or try to kill me in my sleep, I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t be smart. You know how you are.”

“I’m not sure I do. How am I?”

She opened her mouth to answer then fluttered her hands, seemingly at a loss for the right words. “I don’t know. You’re always everybody’s problem-solver.” Then she followed the direction Cassie had taken to the armoire. He took a cup of coffee and fell in behind her, stopping beside Cassie, who stood several feet back, admiring the gift.

He made every effort to mask what he felt. It was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. It was seven feet high, with doors two-thirds of the way up and two drawers at the bottom. It was painted to look rustic in a flat, medium blue, and was covered in colorful, primitive-style floral designs. It looked like a gaudy weed among his simple furnishings.

His mother asked from the other side of Cassie, “Do you like it?”

He poured coffee down his throat. “It’s wonderful, Mom.” He was grateful she and his aunts hadn’t tried to disconnect his television to put it inside the cabinet. When he’d moved into this place, they’d connected his set while he was helping move in the sofa and, for reasons no one could understand, he got Korean television.

Cassie took a step forward and ran her fingertips over one of the painted flowers. “This is milk paint, isn’t it?” she asked his mother.

“It is. And these are lion-mounted ring pulls, right out of the early nineteenth century. A little much for this piece, but some folk artist might have saved it off a more elegant dresser. I have a small but interesting folk art collection.”

“I love it. It has so much enthusiasm.”

“How long are you staying in Beggar’s Bay?” his mother asked with no attempt to fake politeness despite that civil exchange. She wanted to know when Cassie was leaving.

Cassie seemed to get that but smiled, anyway. “My brother and sister are flying in overnight, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to stay with one of them until I go home.”

His mother seemed appeased. “Good. Well, I should go. I left a casserole in the refrigerator for you for tomorrow’s dinner.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Grady walked her around the front to her car.

“I like the armoire,” he said to his mother’s back.

She turned and gave him a knowing look. “You didn’t like it until you saw that she liked it. And how do we know she didn’t say that just to get in good with us?”

Rain fell in sheets beyond the protection of the overhead deck, and the night air was perfumed and cold. “Mom, that’s paranoid and completely unfair. I’m sure her bank account is fifty times larger than mine. What reason would she have to ingratiate herself with you to get to me?”

In a sudden loosening of her severity, his mother patted his cheek. “Because you’re such a sweetheart and, according to ET, she hasn’t had a lot of luck with men. That meltdown suggests she’s troubled about her life, and you are like a stockade wall.”

A stockade wall. Tall timbers lashed together to form a barrier, their tops hacked to a point to prevent a breach. He wasn’t sure that was flattering.

She gave him a quick, strong hug. “That’s how it felt to me when you came home from school to help me with Dad. Like we were safe behind you.” She pushed him back. “Now, go inside. I won’t bother you again unless you need me. Or want to invite me to dinner, or come over to put up the pergola for me like you’ve been promising.”

“I painted it, didn’t I?”

“Last July. And you did such a lovely job that it should be in my garden and not my garage.” She smiled sweetly then hurried to her car. She took a few minutes to get settled inside, then started to back up.

Grady watched her turn around, keeping a careful eye on his basketball stand; he’d replaced it twice already thanks to her lack of skill in Reverse. He waved her off and ran back inside.

Cassie sat at his breakfast bar, her veil of hair shining under the overhead light, soft, weary blue eyes looking up at him as he walked into the kitchen. She appeared fragile suddenly, not at all the athlete who’d raced across the airport tarmac with him, who’d put up with the chilling rain and his unwelcoming mother.

“You look about to fall asleep,” he said, helping her off the stool. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room then I’ll get your bag.”

“I can get my things,” she said, stifling a yawn. “In my job, sometimes it’s expedient to be waited on. But, here, I can fend for myself.”

“You can do that tomorrow. Tonight you need some sleep.” He pointed her into the foyer and up the stairs.

“You get your hardheadedness from your mother, don’t you?” she asked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry if my being here upset your homecoming. She seemed very disappointed that you weren’t alone. She really doesn’t like me.”