The Husband School Read online

  Meg and Mrs. Swallow had been some of the first people to leave the meeting. They’d left through a side door that Shelly was glad to know about. After all, she’d had the brilliant idea to watch to see if Sonny came to town.

  On one hand, she wanted to find him more than anything she’d ever wanted in the entire world. She’d imagined the smile on his face when he saw her, his disbelief that she was really in front of him, his happiness about the baby. Sweet Shelly, he’d say. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought you’d disappeared forever.

  Or, Come on, girl! Git over here and give me a kiss!

  On the other hand, if Sonny had gone to the meeting, would that have meant he was looking to meet a woman from California?

  Shelly told herself it was a darn good thing that he hadn’t been in Willing tonight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” Meg slid onto an empty stool at the bar of the Dahl and leaned one elbow on the scarred wooden counter. She didn’t really expect Lucia to answer, because she’d asked the same question three times while they had hurried across the street after the meeting concluded. Jerry had still been pumping his fist in triumph as they’d slipped out the side door and into the cold.

  “You need a drink. How about a glass of wine?” Lucia stood next to her and waved to Aurora, who wore a black T-shirt decorated with orange pumpkins. She was opening bottles of Moose Drool, the week’s special, according to the sign on the counter.

  “Now there’s someone who would be good at this whole thing,” Meg grumbled. “I’ll bet she knows these guys’ issues better than I do.”

  “That I doubt. And besides, she and Jerry don’t get along.”

  “But...what just happened?”

  “Among other things,” Lucia announced, looking positively thrilled, “Owen MacGregor was flirting with you.”

  Meg shook her head. “You know well enough that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “It should be. I have a few questions about that, but I have a feeling we’re going to need privacy.” She assessed Meg. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

  “I could be going into shock,” she muttered, touching her hot cheeks with her fingertips.

  “Just back Jerry into a corner and tell him you won’t do it,” Lucia said. “Though I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to.”

  “Hey, ladies.” The Dahl’s owner and bartender appeared in front of them. “Girls’ night out?”

  “It is now,” Lucia said. “Nice shirt. I suppose you’ve heard all about the TV show?”

  “Only bits and pieces, thank goodness.” Aurora was tall, blond and elegant. She had the kind of beauty that landed women in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition, which was only one of the rumors about her floating around. She didn’t date, and Meg’s theory was that none of the local men had the nerve to ask her out. Aurora simply didn’t seem interested, leaving Meg to wonder if there was a mysterious long-distance relationship somewhere in Aurora’s life. “I still can’t believe I had to cancel karaoke night because of an idiotic ‘special’ town meeting.”

  “A shame about the karaoke,” Lucia said, keeping a straight face. “Meg’s been practicing.”

  “She’s teasing,” Meg said. “I wouldn’t do that to you again.”

  “It wasn’t that bad. Everyone should get to sing ‘Ring of Fire’ on their birthday,” Aurora assured her. She looked toward the door, which kept opening to admit thirsty civic-minded men. “The idiot mayor—” she rolled her eyes to illustrate what she thought of that title “—just walked in looking like he won the lottery. What can I get you?”

  “Just some white wine, I think. Pinot, please.”

  “You’re not going to make me put ice in it, are you?”

  “No. Tonight I’m going to drink it straight.”

  “Thank God.”

  “You’re a wine snob,” Meg said, as Lucia grinned and ordered the same thing.

  “I don’t believe in watering the liquor,” Aurora countered, smiling. “But yes, I’m a bit of a wine freak. And as soon as I get this crowd served and happy, you’re going to tell me why you looked like a trapped rabbit. I’ll start a tab for you.”

  “Trapped rabbit?” she repeated, but the bartender’s attention had focused on other customers, and the bar began to fill with loud baritone conversation.

  Lucia took both of their wineglasses and headed for a table for two between the bar and the stage. “Hurry up, Miz Meg, before your students take all the seats.”

  “Miz Meg. For heaven’s sake.”

  “It’s not like you to be flustered like this.” They slid into the two mismatched wooden chairs tucked into the corner, giving Meg a chance to survey the room. It wasn’t a large bar, so even though they were in the back, Meg felt exposed to the many curious men who began to crowd around the tables against the far wall. The Dahl was one of her favorite buildings in town; its hand-hewn logs and the mirrored wall behind the worn bar gave it the character of an old saloon. An enormous stuffed bear stood in a corner near the entrance. Looking a little ragged, it wore a Montana State baseball cap and three strands of Mardi Gras beads. The Dahl had sat empty for almost a year before Aurora arrived in town and bought the place a couple of years ago. Wisely she had changed nothing, except for having the bathrooms updated and the glassware replaced.

  “Here’s to dating class!” Lucia held up her glass to clink against Meg’s. “So you were actually asked what women want? I wish I’d been there.”

  “It was pretty funny. The men around the table looked overwhelmed and desperate and Jerry was so excited and really, really serious about Willing turning into a ghost town.”

  “He’s right.” Lucia took a sip of wine and looked down at her glass. “Things have changed since Tony and I moved here. And that was, what, ten years ago?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but her expression had become serious and sad. “Mama’s hinted about moving to Lewistown, or Billings, even. The library’s closed and most of the stores are gone, except for the ones that sell fishing equipment and stuff for the tourists to buy. I’m driving there now for almost everything. I don’t mind, except it’s almost an hour and a half round trip, and that’s when the roads are decent.”

  “I know,” was all Meg could think to say.

  “I want to open my own bakery someday, but I can’t do it here. Not the way things are going. At least in Lewistown I’d be closer to the city.”

  “You’re a brilliant baker. You should be doing fancy wedding cakes instead of huckleberry muffins for me.” She sipped her wine and thought about Main Street and how little she shopped in the few stores left. “I’m sorry. I know there’s talk of the elementary school closing, but Jerry won’t let that happen. And maybe this whole publicity scheme will work.”

  “I love it here. You know that.”

  Meg thought for a long moment as the din in the bar increased. “Let’s make a big pastry display in the café. Something special, for when the women arrive.”

  “If the men don’t appeal to them, the chocolate will?”

  “Something like that.” Meg tried not to think of what life in Willing would be like without Lucia and her boys. “And while we’re here, let’s come up with a list of things for the guys to know.”

  Lucia brightened. “Good idea.”

  “I don’t want to live in a ghost town, either,” she said. “Jerry has officially scared me to death.”

  “Speaking of scary,” Lucia said. “Look who’s over there with the town council.”

  Meg saw Owen, a beer in his hand, listening to Hip talk. The usually silent wood-carver pointed to the oval stand on which the bear, his paws up and ready to take on an imaginary enemy, was mounted. Owen leaned over to see and then nodded. Soon four other men stood staring up at the bear and one of them sl
apped Owen on the back. General laughter followed. “He certainly looks at home,” she said.

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “It hasn’t been his home for a long time. He went away to college. After his father died, he and his mother left the ranch and never came back.”

  “I heard he’s been home for a few weeks now,” Lucia pointed out. “Maybe he’ll get the ranch running again, employ a few people.”

  They were interrupted by Jerry, who strutted over with a handful of papers. “Here they are,” he announced. “Your new students!”

  “You railroaded me,” Meg said as Aurora joined them.

  “Sorry about that. These are desperate times,” he replied. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

  “Wow,” Aurora said. “You have such a way with words.”

  “Give it a rest, will you? I can’t do anything about the parking lot till spring.” He turned back to Meg and Lucia. “How about Saturday afternoon? At the café. Put together a buffet for afterward and I’ll pay for it.”

  “Okay.” She took the papers, noting they looked like job applications.

  “I figure if there’s free food, they’re bound to show up on time. At least that’s what I’m hoping, because we don’t have time to waste. I’ll go put out the word. Four o’clock?”

  “Sure.”

  He backed away as Aurora glared at him, then turned and hurried over to Owen’s crowd by the grizzly. Aurora gestured to a nearby customer and he gave her his chair, which she dragged over to the table. “You realize this will never work.”

  Meg took another sip of wine. “I’ve decided it’s the chance of a lifetime. I get to shape them, like clay. Like writing on a clean slate.”

  “Starting from scratch,” Lucia chirped.

  “A blank canvas.”

  “Blank, all right.” Aurora eyed two young members of the council and the boyfriend Joanie had recently dumped, who stood talking nearby. “Pete Lyons looks like he slept in his clothes, Cam keeps belching and Les—sweet Les—is hiding under his hat.”

  “You’re welcome to get involved,” Meg said, pulling a pen out of her purse. She eyed the stack of forms. “There must be thirty, thirty-five hopeful bachelors here.”

  Lucia drained her glass, set it on the table and took a wad of papers from Meg. She divided them in half and handed a stack to Aurora. “I’ll bet every single one of them has asked you out.”

  “Or is afraid to,” Meg added.

  “I’m running a business,” Aurora said. “Not looking for a boyfriend.” She rolled her eyes. “Does anyone use the word ‘boyfriend’ anymore?”

  “You’re not looking for a relationship,” Lucia stated.

  “Not even close.” Aurora shuddered.

  Meg wondered what Owen had thought of Aurora Jones when he’d walked into the Dahl tonight. With her long legs, tight jeans, intricately stitched Western boots and platinum hair to her waist, Aurora inspired awe. The pumpkin-print T-shirt was definitely out of character, but it made her look deceptively accessible when she was anything but. Meg guessed she was about thirty-five, but her age remained as mysterious as her past.

  “I must invent a new drink,” the bar owner mused. “How does Lost Cause sound?”

  Meg pretended to read through the forms. Owen’s wasn’t in her batch, but she’d make sure to get them all to take home with her. She dared a glance across the room, but his back was to her. Owen still hadn’t looked her way. She told herself she was relieved.

  “I feel sorry for these guys,” Lucia said. “They must be embarrassed. It’s not as if it’s their fault they don’t have anyone to go out with.”

  “This lot? Embarrassed?” Aurora looked around the room. “Not that I’ve ever noticed.”

  Cam belched again and the others shook their heads and laughed, though Les shot a look at the women to see if they’d heard.

  “We’ll need to work on table manners.” Lucia took Meg’s pen and made a note in one of the margins.

  “I’ll do that Saturday. Are you making a list?”

  “Yep. Grooming is another issue. I can help with their clothes, get them looking presentable. I imagine the show is going to want them to look like rugged Montana men, but—”

  “Cleaner,” Aurora finished for her. “They tend to stay in their dirty work clothes, no matter what.”

  Meg took the pen back and scribbled a note to herself. “Good point. I won’t do their laundry, but we’ll have a step-by-step tutorial at the Laundromat. I’ll do a special demonstration on stain removal.”

  “Yeah,” Aurora drawled. “A man with a Tide pen is a real turn-on.”

  Lucia looked up. “Okay, if you’re so smart, you can make a list of the things that turn women on.”

  “I’d like that,” she surprised them by saying. “But I have to get back to work and make some money now. I’ll email it to you. Both of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Aurora hesitated after she stood. “I’ll get you two more glasses of wine. Are either of you coming to the quilt show?”

  “I am,” Lucia said.

  “Me, too.” Meg looked up from her notes. “Why?”

  The woman blushed. “I’ll have a quilt there. It’s my first.”

  “Congratulations,” Lucia managed to say. She seemed taken aback at the thought of glamorous, nondomestic Aurora with a needle and thread in her hand.

  “I’m going Saturday,” Meg added, “after the breakfast rush. I can’t wait to see it. I didn’t know you were a quilter.”

  “Janet Ferguson talked me into joining last winter. I didn’t have anything else to do...and then I started learning how to appliqué and I really loved—”

  “Aurora! Can we get another round of beer over here?”

  “The natives are restless,” she muttered before hurrying away. “I’m coming! You’re not going to die of thirst, you know!”

  “This,” Lucia said, draining Meg’s half-filled wineglass, “has been a very interesting evening.”

  Meg felt a little overwhelmed herself. “Yes,” she agreed. “We obviously need to get out more.”

  * * *

  HE USED TO love teasing her. Her cheeks would pink up and she’d bite her bottom lip and stare up at him until he burst into laughter and wrapped her in his arms. Her muffled giggles against his chest had been the biggest turn-on of his twenty years.

  Now he watched as she laughed in the corner with a black-haired woman he’d seen once before corralling three little black-haired boys into an old minivan.

  He wanted to talk to her, to ask her about her life. Was she happy, did she ever dream of living anyplace else? Why had she stopped loving him so quickly?

  Instead he was stuck listening to old high school football stories and hunting adventures and speculation about the silver-haired owner of the Dahl. She seemed pleasant enough. Cool, classy, high maintenance. Besides, he looked at her and felt no spark, no passion. She’d given him a beer and taken his money. And that was the end of that, fortunately. He hadn’t come to town to get involved with anyone.

  He refused to make the time for any kind of relationship, the word women loved to use these days. Even Meg, the first girl to break his heart, couldn’t break it again.

  Owen watched her follow her friend through the dwindling crowd and out of the bar. A number of people called good-night to them. And then he said his own goodbyes and made his way outside. He told himself he was simply tired of the crowd and the noise and the overheated room. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he saw Meg and Lucia go in two different directions, to two different vehicles.

  Meg unlocked the door of a Toyota Highlander, which happened to be parked in front of his truck.

  “Meg.”

  She turned around without opening the car door, bu
t she didn’t say anything.

  He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and walked around her car. “You’ve taken on a big job,” he said, feeling foolish. He hoped she didn’t think he was stalking her.

  “I suppose you think it’s all a big joke.”

  “I—”

  “But it was good of you to volunteer.” She didn’t seem angry. But with women, who could tell?

  “What am I supposed to think is a joke?” He kept his voice soft.

  “Everything. The town. People will be moving out. People have moved out.” She waved her hand as if to indicate the entire street. “It’s not the same, and...never mind.” She turned away and grabbed the door handle.

  “I didn’t know,” was all he could think to say. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Stop, will you? Just for a minute?” She hesitated, and then looked at him again with expressive brown eyes. “You stayed here, in town,” he said. “Why?”

  “I left,” she answered. “But I came back.”

  That hadn’t answered his question.

  “What about you?” she continued, before he could ask her why again. “Why did you change your mind?” His confusion must have been obvious, because she clarified the question. “About doing the TV show.”

  Owen tried to smile, but it felt awkward when she looked at him so seriously. “Okay, that’s a fair question.” He hesitated for a few seconds as he tried to figure out how to avoid the truth and come up with something she’d believe. “There’s a streak,” he began, “in my family. Do you remember Ed, my father’s older brother?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly. The man kept to himself. My grandfather was the same way, no interest in people, just cattle and horses and dogs and basically anything on four feet. I don’t know how or why he ever got married, but she—my grandmother—died young.”