lashes to her own. With more finesse it worked, and she applied the second. They felt heavy and she blinked hard as she riffled through her purse for blush.
A loud knock on the door made her jump.
“I’ll be out in a sec.”
She’d already ratted and sprayed her recently bleached hair into a style even Dolly Parton would have been proud of. Now she applied a thick layer of red lipstick over her already full lips, making sure she exceeded the lines in a suitable fashion.
She stepped back and inspected the finished product. The denim skirt wasn’t as short as most, the top not very tight, but sexy things had never been part of her wardrobe. This would just have to do.
A quick readjustment inside her bra and the cleavage atop her red tank top swelled. She turned from side to side for one last look.
Good grief. Who was this person?
Before she could lose her nerve she thrust open the door. The plump, elderly woman waiting outside gasped. Her eyes traveled the length of the young woman in front of her before her lips settled into a firm, straight line. She brushed passed Nicole with a disgusted humph and there was a resounding twist of the lock behind her.
A feeling of dread spread across Nicole’s shoulders and neck and she fought a sudden urge to cry. Obviously she had just convinced somebody’s grandma that she was a worldly woman, but could she trick the owner of the Purple Palace?
Yet all she had to do was fit in, she reminded herself. A helper, the ad had said. Yesterday she’d decided she couldn’t go to a place like that looking like Manan the Librarian, her normally mousy brown hair tied in its familiar ponytail. No, she had to look as though the occupants’ shenanigans were nothing out of the ordinary, that they weren’t the least bit offensive to her sensibilities.
Now, with hands on hips, she looked to the sky and shook her head. High school drama classes hadn’t prepared her for this gig. But what choice did she have? She said a quick prayer, filled her lungs and then strode toward the gas pump, trying not to wobble on her Salvation Army high heels.
The hood was up on her rusted green Chevy. The mechanic wiped his hands on a greasy rag and did a double take in her direction. When he closed his mouth, he sauntered over, pretending he hadn’t noticed her transformation in the rest room.
“A couple belts are pretty old and cracked. Don’t think they’ll make it much longer.” He was staring at her chest and she wanted to smack him upside the head. Instead, she practiced a confident voice.
“Will they make it another forty miles?”
“Hard to say. Maybe yes, maybe no.”
She looked at the pump: $14.78. She didn’t have to check her purse to know. Inside was a ten, a five and some change.
“Guess I’ll take my chances.”
He cocked his head to one side and continued wiping his filthy hands, his lopsided grin making it pretty clear he’d consider a trade. Fingers shaking, she retrieved the bills from her purse and slapped them in his blackened palm.
“Suit yourself, ma’am.” He shrugged and walked back to the front of the car and slammed the hood down.
She was tempted to leave without the change, but twenty-two cents was twenty-two cents. When he returned with it, she flashed him a smile and drove off—stomach growling, engine knocking and nerve dwindling by the second.
Michael Phillips chuckled under his breath, riding atop his first and only mare—an old workhorse named Mae. Her slow waddle up the hillside and across the ridge was adding an extra half hour to the trip to his sister’s neighboring farm, but the delay would be well worth it.
He couldn’t wait to see the expression on Taylor’s face when she saw him...here...in Montana...and heard what he had done. If he’d driven his van she might have seen him coming. After months of planning and secrecy, he wanted to milk the moment for all it was worth.
He stopped where the trail cut to the west and let Mae nibble at low-hanging brush while his eyes scanned the rolling countryside below.
And there she was. On her knees in the flower beds in front of the old blue farm house, one he hadn’t seen in seven years. The only notable change were the two little ones who played close by. His heart was in his throat. He’d missed his niece’s and nephew’s early years, but now he was here, and he planned to make up for it. He tugged on Mae’s reins and she loped on.
He rode closer until Mae started nickering, then he tethered her to a tree and hiked the rest of the way, excitement building with every step. Finally he broke into an easy jog, darting behind trees until he came alongside the old familiar house. He paused a moment, caught his breath and then ambled around the corner, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his grin no longer controllable.
Two-year-old Emily spotted him first and ran to her mother, peeking shyly from the far side. Soon-to-be-six John stopped playing with his truck and stood. “Mama?”
Taylor rocked back on her knees, swiped a muddy glove across her forehead and then nearly toppled over as she let out a yelp. “Michael!”
He ran to her and swooped her up, spinning her around. “Hi, sis.” When he set her down they were both laughing and crying at the same time.
“When did you—” She glanced around. “How did you—” She flung her arms around his neck again. “Oh, Michael. It’s so good to see you. How long can you stay?”
Emily and John stood a safe distance behind their mother, not knowing what to make of it all. He smiled and gave them a conspiratorial wink.
“Hmm...with a little luck...oh, I’d say another sixty years or so.”
She fell back a step, her mouth agape—just the reaction he’d hoped for.
“I bought the Purple Palace.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?”
“Yep. Lock, stock and ol’ Mae.”
“Mae?”
“Their only horse.”
“Let me get this straight. You sold the family business.” He nodded. “And you bought the Purple Palace.” He nodded again. “And you plan to—” She rolled her hand in a fast-forward motion.
“Work the place.”
“Work the place. As in—” She glanced over her shoulder at the children and didn’t finish, her sudden frown saying it all.
It was time to end the ruse. “As in restoring it. It’s a grand old lady—old enough to become a historical landmark.”
“And the...girls?”
“Bought them out. They’ve all moved on to greener pastures.”
Taylor’s smile turned into a large grin, and then the sounds of their laughter echoed across the valley.
When the adults composed themselves, the children came
