The Husband School Read online

“Keep Shelly away. The fumes aren’t good for her.”

  “I know. But she wants be helpful somehow, so I told her she could. I have a couple of high school girls coming in to wait tables.” She smiled. “Or maybe I can get Loralee to waitress again.”

  * * *

  IF THERE WAS a way to run away, Shelly thought, she’d be out of here faster than you could say “bus.” Loralee Smittle was just too scary, sort of a cross between a grandmother and a hooker, if there was such a thing.

  Loralee wasn’t a grandmother, though, because Meg was an only child.

  Loralee was really outspoken and chatty. Not at all like Meg. And Meg didn’t wear pink lipstick or tight T-shirts. She didn’t have long fingernails with little rhinestones glued to them, either. The rhinestones were cool. No one in Willing had fingernails like them, and Shelly had seen a lot of fingers wrapped around a lot of forks and coffee mugs since she’d gotten off the bus.

  Shelly didn’t want to be here when Meg returned, but she was out of luck on that score. She’d seen Owen MacGregor’s truck pull in a few minutes ago, which meant her boss would arrive with flushed cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. She’d heard about what happened after the dance class last night—it was all over town—and hoped that Meg could keep that tall rancher to herself after the TV people came. He wasn’t as grumpy when Meg was around.

  Meg hadn’t sounded too thrilled about her mother’s surprise visit on the phone. She’d told Shelly not to tell her mother where she was or who she was with. And as far as Shelly was concerned, Meg’s mom could stomp on her with those high-heeled Western boots—pink lizard wingtips—and Shelly would never talk. She didn’t care if she had to sleep in Meg’s car, though she knew her boss would never let that happen.

  She hoped it wasn’t time to move on. She wasn’t ready. She sure hoped Loralee wouldn’t mind a roommate, even though that seemed like a lot to hope for. Of course, she’d be happy to move to one of the cabins they were in the process of renovating...if the paint fumes weren’t too bad. Her little bit of luck, that unfamiliar feeling that things were going her way, had evaporated, just the way it always did.

  Now it was Loralee’s turn to wonder about Meg. She’d switched from a stool at the counter to a chair at the table next to a booth. “She should be back soon, you said?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Any minute.” Kip and Kate, Mr. Petersen’s twin granddaughters, were waiting on the four customers in the café. Shelly was officially off duty, but she wouldn’t leave until she talked to Meg. So she stretched out in a booth with her feet up, which eased the ache in her lower back. The baby was growing faster than she’d expected.

  “Did Margaret go into Lewistown?”

  “Maybe,” Shelly hedged. “She didn’t actually say. Can I pour you another cup of coffee?”

  “No, bless your heart. You’d better stay right where you are. If I want coffee I’ll get it myself. How far along are you?”

  “Twenty-two weeks.”

  “So you’re over the morning sickness.”

  The bell tinkled and Meg stepped inside. “Mom?”

  Loralee turned and gave her daughter a big smile. She jumped up and met her halfway across the room for a big hug. Shelly swallowed the lump in her throat. Loralee might be loud and nosy, but she loved her daughter.

  That counted for a lot.

  * * *

  “HERE.” LORALEE PRODUCED a tube of lip gloss from her enormous pink handbag and handed it across the table to Meg. “Use this. Your lips are red. They’re going to get chapped if you don’t take care of them, and men don’t like chapped lips. Makes them feel like they’re kissing an iguana.”

  Shelly choked, and then coughed.

  “Well, we can’t have that.” Meg did as she was told, but she didn’t dare look at her waitress. She handed the gloss back to her mother, who told her to keep it.

  “I’ll get another one. The grocery store hasn’t closed down yet, has it?”

  “No.... Well, this is a surprise, Mom. You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  Loralee made a show of rearranging the inside of her enormous purse. “I thought I had some moisturizer in here, too. Your skin could use it. I thought I taught you to always apply moisturizer, especially in this kind of weather.”

  “Mom? I’ll grease up my face, I promise. Just as soon as you tell me why you’re here.” Though Meg suspected she knew exactly why Loralee was back in town: she didn’t want to miss out on the excitement.

  “You know I’ve always loved Halloween here.”

  “Right. And...?”

  “I thought you would need help. With all the new people coming in.”

  “And...?”

  “I missed you.”

  “And...?”

  “You really should have told me about Shelly.” She gave the girl a reassuring look. “Not that I mind, dear, but you could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw that someone was living in my cabin. It was a real ‘who’s been sleeping in my bed?’ moment, let me tell you.”

  Shelly blushed. “I’ll go somewhere else—”

  Meg held up her hand. “Let’s wait on that for a minute, okay? We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” And then she looked at her mother, who almost vibrated with excitement. Even the rhinestone earrings were twitching. “You’re here for the TV show.”

  Loralee gulped, and then began to laugh. “Well, of course I’m here for the show! I left Joan with her yarn and her bridge group and got on a plane. Two planes. I’ve been following the news online, you know, just to keep up with what’s happening, since you haven’t had time to talk on the phone lately.”

  “The newspaper’s online?”

  “No, but the newspaper has a website. And Jerry likes to blog.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “And don’t you worry about a thing,” Loralee said to Shelly. “We’ll be roommates for a couple of weeks. When are you due?”

  “February twenty-seventh.”

  “Oh, my goodness. You still have quite a ways to go. Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “Uh, I don’t want to know. Not yet.”

  Loralee sighed. “I’m not going to ask how old you are. It would just depress me.”

  “Mom,” Meg said, trying to distract her before Shelly slumped to the floor in embarrassment. “Let’s go get you settled in.”

  “There’s not much to settle,” she said, but she sprang to her feet and picked up her empty cup. “I already put my suitcase in the cabin and I don’t have much to unpack.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I rented a car at the airport. In Billings. It’s too bad I wanted to surprise you, or you could have picked me up. Where were you, shopping?”

  “There’s been a lot to do to get three of the cabins ready.”

  “I can’t wait to see. Let me get my coat and you can give me a tour.”

  “Uh, not today.” Loralee couldn’t be counted on to be pleasant to Owen, and Meg hadn’t had time to explain his part in the dating classes. “I’d rather you wait and see them painted. The new bathrooms are in, and the carpet comes on Friday.”

  “But—”

  “Please? Let me surprise you,” Meg insisted, using her sweet-daughter voice. Loralee’s eyes narrowed, but she agreed.

  “Come on, then, Shelly,” she said. “Let’s go home and talk about this boyfriend of yours. Have you talked to the police about helping you find him? He could be in jail, you know. Jail is always a possibility when a man disappears, though it’s not likely, I guess. None of my husbands ever did time. Was he a lot older than you? Or was he young and—”

  “Mom! Mind your own business and leave the girl alone.” Shelly gave her a grateful look. “Let me check with Kate and Kip before we leave. Al’s gone, but his nephew’s cooking tonigh
t and I need to make sure he has everything.”

  “What’s the special?”

  Meg had no idea, so she kept walking toward the kitchen and the sound of Motown rather than admit she’d been too preoccupied to oversee menus. She couldn’t remember if tonight was pot roast, turkey or meat loaf.

  “Turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes and green beans,” Shelly replied. “Ten ninety-five with coffee and dessert. And rolls.”

  “Perfect. I always say comfort food sells better than bean sprouts. We’ll have Meg deliver our dinner to the cabin, then. Once I take these boots off, they’re staying off,” Loralee said. “Meg! Order three of those specials to go for six o’clock, will you? We’ll have a nice little all-girl dinner and catch up! You can tell me what all you’ve been teaching the men around here.”

  It took another forty-five minutes to settle Loralee into the cabin and to assure Shelly that she didn’t have to move out. Loralee wouldn’t hear of Shelly moving into the spare room and Shelly tearfully refused to sleep anywhere else. They were still discussing it when Meg left to change into her painting clothes.

  Amazingly, the men were halfway through the second cabin by the time she caught up with them.

  “It’s going real fast. Jerry’s doing the trim,” Les explained when she walked in. “Mike and I are doing the walls with the roller.” He held it up to show her. “Not the pine paneling, but the other walls.”

  “It looks great.” And it did.

  “Owen’s making sure the plumbing is hooked up right. Where’s Shell? Is she okay? She knows she can’t come inside because of the smell, but I hoped she’d say hi.”

  “She’s with my mother.”

  He gulped. “I heard Mrs., uh, Smittle was back. She’s letting Shelly stay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Oh, good. I was worried.”

  “I wouldn’t let anything happen to Shelly, you know that.”

  Next door she found Hip and Owen deep in conversation about wood.

  Owen’s hands were covered in some kind of black grease and Hip, who had a flask in the front pocket of his down vest, was coated in a fine layer of sawdust.

  “Hey,” Owen said, smiling.

  “Hi,” was all Hip could manage to say.

  “Hi,” she said to both of them. She didn’t know what else to add except, “Give me a job. I’m ready to paint something.”

  “Jerry’s painting the bathroom,” Owen said. “You and I can do the kitchen. How’s that sound?”

  “Okay. Oh, by the way, do either one of you know anything about the rodeo in Billings?”

  Hip looked trapped. “Uh, no.”

  “Sure. Stock show and a lot of other things going on. We never made it to the ranch finals, but it was fun to watch.” Owen grabbed a roll of paper towels and peeled off a couple of feet. “Why? Do you want to go?”

  “Maybe. Are you free this weekend?”

  “Honey,” he said with a big grin on that too-good-looking cowboy face of his. “That’s a really easy question to answer.” Hip fled, leaving the door open behind him.

  She tried not to laugh when Owen kicked the door shut and stepped closer. “Do not touch me with those greasy hands.”

  “Did you just ask me out?” He carefully wiped his hands.

  “Shh. Isn’t Jerry in here?”

  Sure enough, the mayor hollered, “I can hear every word! And yes, you did ask him out! Have you seen the bathrooms? They look great! Mike did the tiling.”

  “Hi, Jerry! I can’t wait to see!” She took a step back from the man who looked very much as if he’d like to kiss her anyway, even if they weren’t alone.

  “There are enough rumors going around about us as it is,” she whispered. “Now I have to bribe Jerry with extra pie or something.”

  “He already owes you. And me,” Owen pointed out, gazing at her mouth. “But don’t worry. He’s a politician, right? I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  * * *

  “I’VE STARTED A countdown.” Jerry stared at the screen of his cell phone. “I need to call someone about better reception up here.”

  “A countdown for what?” Meg started setting a table for two. She carefully placed the silverware, napkin and wineglasses.

  “After tonight we have four days. Four days,” Jerry repeated, tucking the phone into the holder on his belt. “And on day five—”

  “All hell breaks loose,” Meg finished for him.

  “Could we have a little more optimism, please?”

  “I’m concentrating on getting this table right.” Class would begin in ten minutes and the men had been trickling in, despite the fact that hunting season began in two days. It would be a busy weekend and she’d been working on new soup recipes all day.

  “Sorry. Where’s your mother? I want to meet her. Did I tell you that she comments on my blog?”

  “She really loves her iPad.” Meg refolded the white cotton napkin and set it neatly to the left of the forks. “She’ll be here, don’t worry. This is what she came here for. That, and decorating the diner with a crate of oranges.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Meg had spent twenty minutes dumping oranges into bowls for centerpieces at breakfast. Whether anyone mistook them for pumpkins was a mystery.

  “I’m glad she’s here.” Jerry scanned the crowd. “After five husbands, the woman’s practically an encyclopedia of dating info. What’s Esther doing here? She’s eighty-five.”

  “Eighty-six.” Meg studied the table and decided it looked beautiful. She’d used a round white cloth that dropped to the floor and topped it with a white-and-gold tablecloth she’d borrowed from Lucia. Mama Marie had provided the gold-rimmed china and the sterling silver utensils. The crystal glasses were Meg’s, a matching set she’d bought in an antique shop in Bozeman last year. “And I have no idea.”

  “She’s carrying a slide projector. Is she on the list for tonight?”

  “Not that I know of. Lucia’s doing a clothing review for anyone who wants to go over their shopping list, Shelly and Loralee will take them through the two-step again and I’m doing table etiquette, making small talk and how to make a good first impression.”

  “You know, the men are starting to look better.”

  “Grooming and makeovers still on for next week?”

  “At the community center. I’ve made arrangements with a beauty school— Oh, hi, Lucia.”

  “Hi, Jer. Oh, Meg, the table looks so romantic!” She gave Meg a hug. “How are you holding up?”

  “Actually, just fine. Mom spent the day visiting friends and annoying Shelly while I made soup. Business was slow.”

  “What’s with Esther and the sex talk? She told me she found something at the library about the birds and the bees.”

  Jerry turned pale. “She emailed me something about fifth-grade gym class, but I didn’t read it.” He took Lucia’s arm and pulled her toward Esther. “Come on. You can help me head her off.”

  Meg watched the door. She didn’t want to seem as if she was waiting for Owen, but she didn’t really expect him to show up for this particular session, not with Loralee around.

  And here he was, walking through the door as if he’d been doing it for years. Meg watched Owen as he scanned the crowd. He smiled when he saw her, and then greeted Les and Hip and joined in a conversation with several of the younger men.

  She noticed more than a few curious glances in her direction. She was supposed to be the most hard-hearted woman in town, Lucia had told her once. Lucia had been laughing at the time, because Meg had been rocking three-week-old Tony while Lucia was stretched out in bed with her two-year old and a stack of storybooks.

  Meg liked her business. She liked her cabin, as small as it was. Her life was what she’d made for herself, by he
rself. Wanting Owen, needing Owen, falling in love with Owen? He’d been the man for her once, when he’d wanted the small-town life and she’d yearned to make something of herself. Funny how they’d ended up, both of them here in Willing, but this time she was the one who had cemented herself into a world she loved. And he was the one who didn’t seem to know what he was doing. She could love him again. And maybe she’d never stopped loving him.

  Did that mean they could make it work this time? Or should she start thinking about what she’d do after he left again?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “FORKS? YOU’RE TELLING these men that their future love life depends on knowing all about forks?” Tonight her mother, although dumbfounded at tonight’s dating-class subject, looked more rested than she had when she arrived yesterday. Her petal-pink top floated past her hips; her fashionable skinny jeans were tucked into pink-leather boots. She didn’t look sixty. To Meg’s secret amazement, her mother had stayed quiet during the first half of the class. But now, staring at the set table, she wasn’t able to resist commenting on Meg’s instructions to the hopeful bachelors, who gathered nearby after having demolished a large amount of corn chips and Meg’s homemade peach salsa.

  “We’re getting them ready to make a good impression on the women they’ll meet.”

  “There is no way Joseph Peckham is going to tell a salad fork from a dessert fork, no matter how many times he sits down at this table and practices.”

  “Do you mind? Everyone gets ten minutes and you’re blocking the line.”

  “Jerry’s cute,” her mother said, ignoring Meg’s not-so-subtle hint. “A little obsessive-compulsive, but charming. You dated him, I hear.”

  “Once.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.” She rearranged the forks once again, hoping her mother would take the hint.

  “He’s a little tame for you, I suppose, but probably good husband material.”

  Behind her mother’s back, Jerry grinned. He gave Meg the thumbs-up.

  There were so many things Meg could have said in response, but she didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings. Loralee, whose tender heart could never resist a sad story, had decided to take Shelly under her wing and for that Meg was grateful. How Shelly felt about the unexpected mothering Meg didn’t know, but the two of them were officially roommates and Shelly had worn a pink golf shirt to work this morning.