When Alana arrived at Zav’s ranch, he teared up and turned away from Alana and the flowered plate she held out for him.
He took a mustering breath before turning back.
“Damned scones,” he said, taking the plate from her hands. “I must be allergic to them.”
Alana put her hands on her hips. If he was anything like most men, it was best not to make a fuss over his display of emotion.
“Three days, Zav, The county’s only giving us three days. We can appeal, of course, but—”
“I’ll handle it. It was Jo’s pet project, and nothing’s getting in the way of it going through.”
“But the other ranchers—”
“I know where every single skeleton is buried in these hills. And though I may not see them much these days, the people out here are my friends.”
“But the county—”
“Don’t you worry about the county. You just put on your duds and show up at the meeting.” He waved her to the table on his back patio, papered with the plans and spec sheets for the windmill. “By the way, I heard you organized a damned serious rescue a few days back.”
“I’d hoped it hadn’t made headlines.”
“Heard it from a deputy’s father; we’ve been buddies since grammar school. I don’t need to tell you how many years that’d be. He reported that you snapped to and handled everything.”
“If I’d been paying attention in the first place, it never would have happened.”
He laughed and shook a finger at her. “Don’t fool yourself; kids find a way around every rule. It’s their job.” He slid his reading glasses down his nose and peered at her over the top. “Jo was a very smart woman. Maybe she knew something in leaving you the ranch—otherwise you’d just be one of those girls who runs around buying things like there’s no tomorrow.”
Just one of those girls. The resonance of the phrase made Alana suspect that Nana had not only plotted to bring her and Zav together, that they’d probably even talked about her over their weekly glass of wine. Her cheeks burned with the knowledge, but she couldn’t fault either of them. Nana had her number and apparently, so did Zav.
“What about that woman you hauled off my land? Can’t believe that. I hadn’t been out in that area for years. No excuse, though.”
“I’m letting her live in the old gardener’s cottage. She’s going to help me develop the body care scents.”
“Now that’s a project of your grandmother’s you won’t get me near. Scented bath bubbles and all that. Ridiculous.”
“People need soap.”
“Next thing you know we’ll be having gourmet salt.”
She didn’t bother to tell him that gourmet salt from seas all over the world was already on store shelves.
“She give you a name?”
“Iris.”
“She give you a last name?”
“Is this the inquisition? For God’s sake, Zav, the woman’s been through the mill. I haven’t had a chance to talk much with her. She’s nice. Odd, but nice. The people at the ranch have taken to her. I can imagine you’re not happy about her being on your land, but I don’t think she did any harm.”
“Man’s got a right to talk to someone squatting on his land.”
“Give her a few days. Then you can talk to her.”
He harrumphed and lifted one of the smooth rocks securing the spec sheets for the windmill.
“Where’s that ballplayer? My friend’s son, the deputy, said he was mooning over you. You get him to come to the hearing and they’ll stamp your permit right through. Especially after last night.”
“Last night?”
“The man hit another grand slam. Looked like he was channeling some kind of energy. I could use some energy like that. Maybe it’s love?” He chuckled and folded his hands behind his head.
“Not with me. Your friend’s son didn’t stick around for the not-so-happy ending with said ballplayer.”
She stopped, but then felt compelled to fill him in…
“I could never fit the mold of wife and stepmom,” she said, winding up her very abridged account. “A kid like Sophie deserves someone competent. Someone normal.”
Zav chuckled.
Heat rose in her cheeks. “You think this is funny?”
“You had a stepmom. Jo was very fond of your father’s second wife.”
“I’m not like her. I couldn’t do what my stepmother did, put up with what she put up with, handling me and Simon and Damien. And my dad. Not to mention the dramatics of my mother.”
She lifted the rocks on her side of the spec sheet. Upside down, the blue ink looked like an ancient map. If only it were. A map to everlasting happiness.
“Mom even tried to keep us kids away from Patrice in the beginning. We barely saw dad the first two years after the divorce. The whole thing was a disaster. My parents were never in love, even we kids could see that. And even after Mom remarried—her college sweetheart, no less—she was still jealous of my stepmother. I don’t want to ever get trapped in those sorts of dramas.”
She smoothed the paper and replaced the rocks securing the edges.
“There’s no mom to be jealous of you or cause trouble,” Zav said. “You just told me so.”
She threw up her hands. “And that’s worse—I’d be battling a ghost. I don’t want to go there. Not even close.”
Zav didn’t blink. But a slow smile spread across his face. Alana scowled at him, and he lowered his gaze to the table and tapped on the spec sheets.
“You can’t judge the present with the eyes of the past,” he said. “I’m thinking this is a whole lot less about the kid and a whole lot more about you and that ballplayer.”
“Don’t you go getting any ideas.” She wagged a finger at him. “The last time I saw Matt Darrington, he was wooing a fashion model so gorgeous, she’d make the gods of Olympus swoon.”
“Fashion model, you say?” Zav didn’t look up from the drawings. “I wouldn’t have pegged him to go for that type, not from what I’ve seen of him on the sports channels.” He shook his head. “Nope, sure wouldn’t have. And I’m usually right about these things.”
“Besides, Matt and I are complete opposites. He’s solid and I’m flighty, he’s found something to devote his life to and I haven’t a clue, he’s—”
“Did it ever occur to you that opposites temper and restore each other rather than overcome one another?”
Alana slapped a hand to her forehead and laughed. “I’m on a ranch with Dr. Phil.” She tried to make light of the emotions coursing through her.
Zav leaned forward and sketched a flowing motion in the air with one hand. “Love, my dear, is like water. It always finds its way. I’m a farmer. I know.”
“Who said anything about love?” Alana didn’t like the petulance in her voice. But Zav was yanking her chain and apparently enjoying it.
“I did.”
Alana shook her head. The little muscles around the top of her throat tightened, and she willed herself not to give in, not to break down and bawl. She understood about her and Matt being an impossible fit; she’d have to live with the truth of that. But the truth didn’t keep her from wishing that maybe things could work out with Matt, that maybe he could love someone who made mistakes, someone who knew absolutely nothing about being a mother. A wish that, try as she might, wouldn’t stay shoved into the sturdy confines she’d tried to erect around it.
“Well, then,” Zav said. “At least you have the ranch. That’ll keep you busy until the fates take another turn at the wheel.” He tapped on the windmill drawings. “We can postpone the meeting for another few days and bring in my attorney from the city. One of his clients is an environmental big shot; he’ll have all the lingo down for any questions about that part. In the meantime, I’ll talk to the neighbors.”
“I’m going to France at the end of next week. It’s the gala for the renovation of Versailles.”
Zav laughed. “Well, isn’t that a pickle.”
r /> Alana could tell from his tone that he didn’t think that a gala for Versailles ranked anywhere near the importance of the permit meeting for the windmill. And she sure wasn’t going to tell him that if she didn’t escape from a world where every single moment something reminded her of Matt, she might lose her mind. He wouldn’t understand.
“Then we’ll keep it as it is. It’ll be tight, though.” He eyed her over the chart and lowered his glasses. “Tavonesi Ranch needs a leader, someone who cares about it, someone who’s there. There’s a team in position, but they need someone to lead the team, someone who loves the entirety, the whole of it, and not just one division. It’s the nature of the place.”
“I’m not much of a leader.”
“Don’t try my patience, young lady. You just study these notes I’ve made for you and show up at the permit meeting. Anything you don’t understand you can look up online or call me about. I’ll see you next Monday.”
He picked up his pruning saw and headed toward his orchard.
“And don’t go doing anything to mess up that boy’s game,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ve got money on the Giants winning the World Series.”