Every day her walks became more enjoyable because of the changing colors, the aspen, maple, oak and other trees she couldn’t identify. The yellow and orange rose up the mountainside, growing more intense as the elevation was greater while the valleys remained green and lush. While she loved Newport Beach and appreciated its beauty, there was something about these powerful trees and mountains that filled her with hope. The air was so fresh up here, it almost shocked the lungs to take a deep breath.
When they got back to the front of Landry’s house she told Otis to go to his place. He cocked his head and looked up at her as if hoping for a second chance. “Place,” she said again, and she watched as Otis went around to the side of the house, easily jumped the fence to the backyard and presumably used his doggy door to go inside and find his mat. She just shook her head. She was beginning to understand how a person could find good companionship with a well-behaved dog.
She went to town and tried writing at Jack’s for a while. It was Sunday and quiet, but it was hunting season so the rest of the week would see plenty of hunters in the bar, just not on Sunday afternoon. She’d come to understand that they did most of their hunting early in the morning, celebrating afterward, the majority of them leaving on Sunday evening. She’d already gotten used to seeing them at the dinner hour, after the hunting was done. Jack wasn’t even there now. Preacher’s wife, Paige, was working behind the bar, and their son, Christopher, was helping out, wiping off tables and bringing plates and glasses to the back. She ordered a sandwich and just hung out with her laptop open as if she was working, which she was not. Unfortunately, no one interrupted her.
She left Jack’s after lunch and stopped by one of her favorite roadside produce stands. It was a little lean, but she bought a pumpkin. She did buy some gourds and dried cornstalks and glass gem corn to decorate her porch for fall. She drove to Clear River and bought some chicken strips and the makings for a Caesar salad. She got a candle for her pumpkin. Why she was doing this was a mystery—Landry’s two houses were at the end of a long drive. It’s not as though people lived close enough or even drove by; there would not be trick-or-treaters. But it had always been important to her mother to keep their surroundings beautiful, to change up and improve things regularly and decorate for special occasions. Kaylee had inherited a little of that. And she wanted to please her mother, even though she was gone now.
When she got back home, Laura’s car was gone. She had probably headed to Grace Valley to spend her time in Landry’s booth. Adorning his booth. He must obviously want to spend every available moment with her. She was so breathtaking.
Kaylee carved her pumpkin when she should’ve been writing. And she took a nap. And ate her solitary dinner. She couldn’t quite define if she was a little disappointed or actually heartbroken. She missed Landry at dinnertime but she also had a shot of guilt—he shouldn’t be spending so much time with her if he had a wife. Should he? Of all the complications that could impede a growing relationship, he’s married ran at the top of the list.
It was after nine and she was in her pajamas, lost in writing a tale about Caroline and Landon, when there was a knock on her door. Oddly, she wondered if it was Laura. If maybe she needed help with a burned-out light bulb or something. Then she opened her door to see Landry standing there.
“I saw your light was on,” he said.
“It’s not exactly late,” she said. “Though, I guess for you, it is.”
“If you’re not heading to bed, can you talk a minute?” He looked her up and down. She was wearing her pajamas, of course. “I apologize for the interruption. I can see you’re ready for—”
“It’s all right, but what about your wife?”
“She’s gone back to San Francisco. She won’t be coming back here.”
“I have a feeling this really has nothing to do with me.”
“It doesn’t, except that I think I unintentionally misled you and I’d like to straighten it out. Unless you’re too tired.”
“For this explanation? Oh hell no! I can’t wait. Would you like something to drink?”
“Anything,” he said. “As long as it has alcohol in it.”
“Talk about a signal that it’s going to be a doozy...”
She went to her refrigerator and pulled out a cold beer, the kind he liked, the kind he always brought along with him when he came to her porch. She’d bought it this afternoon even though she had no way of knowing if or when she might see him again. A part of her had been preparing for the wife to stay, take over, maybe invite her to dinner with the two or them or something. Ack. That thought almost made her gag.
“You drink this?” he asked her, surprised.
“Sure. All the time.” Then she pulled one out for herself, though she didn’t want it. “Sit down,” she said. “Try not to sit on the kitty, I mean, Tux.”
He examined the chair before sitting. “Okay, so I didn’t mean to mislead you. Laura and I have been separated for ten years. We were married eleven years ago, so it wasn’t a long marriage. She had what she thought was a breakthrough acting opportunity, went for what she thought would be an interview and audition.
