not like us staying there.”
“Spencer is dead, and he’s the only one who would have forbidden it. The others won’t interfere.”
“That’s not the same as welcoming us.”
“Fine. Whatever. If I tell them to welcome you, then they will.”
His bulldozing did little to ease her mind. “I’m not sure if I can get the time off.”
“I’m only asking for a week. Seven measly days. You don’t take vacations?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?”
Tamra fidgeted with the paper clip he’d bent. What could she say? That she was nervous about being thrust into his world? That she didn’t belong there?
“I’m sure Mary would be more comfortable if you came with us,” he said. “And so would I.”
“Would this include a trip to San Francisco?” she asked.
“Definitely. It’s only fifty miles from the estate. And it’s where I live most of the time, where I work.”
“How often do you commute to Napa Valley?”
“On the weekends mostly. But I’ve been spending more time at the estate since Spencer was killed. I can’t help but miss him.”
She glanced out the window, felt the cloud of death that floated between them. “I’d like to visit Jade.” To kneel at her baby’s grave site, to whisper to her little girl.
“We can visit her together. We can take her the flowers I promised.” He released a rough breath. “We can do other things, too. Just the two of us. But we’ll have to tell my mom what’s going on. We can’t keep sneaking around.”
“I already told her.”
“That we’re lovers?” He sat back in his chair, frowned a little, pulled his hand through his hair. “How’d she take it?”
“She said we needed to be careful. That this is all so new.”
“But it won’t be.” His gaze sought hers, holding her captive. “Not after we get to know each other better.”
“Then I’ll go with you. I’ll arrange to take some time off.” To be with him, to meet his high-society family, to discover who Walker Ashton really was.
Walker sat on the steps of his mother’s porch. Tamra was still at work, and Mary was inside, puttering around the kitchen, doing whatever domestic things women did. She’d returned from her job about an hour ago, giving him the opportunity to talk to her, much in the way he’d spoken with Tamra earlier. And just like her non-Hunka daughter, she’d left him with mixed emotions.
Good and bad, he supposed.
“You’re not brooding, are you?”
“What? No.” He turned to look at Mary, who’d come outside with a glass of lemonade in her hand.
She handed him the drink. “Then you must be deep in thought.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He took a sip and noticed that she’d added just the right amount of sugar.
“Are you upset about the checking account?”
“That both you and Tamra turned me down? Yeah, it bugs me. I’m trying to do the right thing, and no one will let me.”
She sat beside him. “The thirty thousand Spencer gave me was enough. I don’t want to take money from my own son, too.”
He squinted at her, trying to shield his eyes from the late-day sun. “I thought Indian families were supposed to help each other. I thought that was the message around here.”
“It is. But I’m not poor anymore. I’m not struggling to pay my bills.” She smoothed her blouse, a polyester top she’d probably bought at a discount store. “I was ashamed of my house when you first got here, but it was wrong for me to feel that way. It’s nicer than what most people have around here.”
In Walker’s eyes she was still poor. Not destitute, like the out-of-work population on the rez, but a two-bedroom mobile home and a tired old Buick certainly didn’t make her rich. “At least you and Tamra agreed to go to California with me. I’m glad about that.”
“So am I. I can’t wait to see Charlotte.”
“She’s anxious to see you, too.” A rabbit darted by, scurrying into the brush. He watched it disappear, feeling like a kid who’d missed out on his childhood, a boy who’d grown up too fast. “I wish you’d reconsider about the money.”
“Goodness gracious. You’re just like your father.”
“Stubborn?” he asked.
“Pigheaded,” she replied.
He snorted like a swine and made her laugh. He knew they were still trying to get used to each other, to have stress-free conversations. “Did my dad have a temper, too?”
“Not as bad as yours.”
“Gee, thanks.” He bumped her shoulder, and she smiled. He wondered if his father was watching them, if angels existed. Walker couldn’t remember his dad, at least not to any degree. But he couldn’t remember his mom, either, and she was sitting right next to him.
She sighed, her voice turning soft. “I loved David so much.”
Suddenly he didn’t know what to say. He’d never been in love. He’d never given his heart to anyone. A bit lost, he stared at the grass, at the coarse, wild groundcover.
“Do you know how I met him?” she asked.
“No. How?”
“I was hitchhiking, and he picked me up. It was my second day on the road, and I wasn’t getting very many rides.”
“Is that the first time you left the rez?”
She nodded. “I was twenty-three years old, determined to get away from this place and never come back.”
“Where were you headed?”
“Omaha. I figured it was big enough to find a job and start my life over.”
“Did my dad offer to drive you there?”
“No. He offered to take me as far as Kendall, the town where he lived.” Her tone turned wistful. “You should have seen me when I climbed into his truck. Talk about nervous. He was so handsome, so tall and strong, with the greenest eyes imaginable.”
Curious, Walker studied her, noticed how girlish she seemed—a woman reminiscing about the man she loved. “I guess you never made it to Omaha, considering Charlotte and I were born in Kendall.”
“David offered me a job. He said he was
