him, as well.
“So just where are you from, Westmoreland?”
Her spine stiffened with Fletcher’s question. She hadn’t invited Dillon to dinner to be interrogated, but she knew Fletcher wouldn’t be satisfied until he got some answers. She also knew once he got them he still wouldn’t be contented.
“I’m from Denver,” Dillon answered.
Fletcher was about to ask another question when Dillon beat him to the punch. “And where are you from, Mallard?”
The question had clearly caught Fletcher off guard. He had a way of trying to intimidate people, but she had a feeling that Dillon Westmoreland was a man who couldn’t be intimidated.
“I’m from Laramie,” Fletcher said gruffly. “I moved to town about five years ago to open a grocery store here. That was my first. Since then I’ve opened over twenty more in other cities in Wyoming and Montana. It’s my goal to have a Mallard Super Store in every state in the union over the next five years.”
Pam couldn’t help but inwardly smile. If Fletcher thought that announcement would get a reaction from Dillon, then he was sadly mistaken. Dillon didn’t show any sign that he was the least impressed.
“Where are you staying while you’re in town?” Fletcher asked, helping himself to the mashed potatoes.
“At the River’s Edge Hotel.”
“Nice place if you can do without cable television,” Jill said, smiling.
Pam watched how easily Dillon returned Jill’s smile. “I can do without it. I don’t watch much television.”
“And what is it that you do?” Fletcher asked in a voice that Pam felt was as cold as the iced tea she was drinking.
Dillon, she saw, gave Fletcher a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he said, “I’m into real estate.”
“Oh, you sell homes,” Fletcher said as if the occupation was beneath him.
“Not quite,” Dillon said pleasantly. “I own a real estate firm. You might have heard of it, Blue Ridge Land Management.”
Pam saw the surprise that lit Fletcher’s eyes before he said, “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”
She had to force back a chuckle because she was sure that he had heard of it. Who hadn’t? The Blue Ridge Land Management Company was a billion-dollar corporation, well known in the Mountain States, that had a higher place on the Fortune 500 list than Mallard Super Stores.
Seeing that Fletcher was momentarily speechless, she stepped in to say, “Mr. Westmoreland, you said that—”
“I’m Dillon.”
He had raised his gaze to meet hers and she saw a friendly smile lurking in the dark depths of his eyes. Her heart rate began accelerating in her chest. “Yes, of course,” she said quickly. “And I’m Pam.”
After taking a sip of her tea, she continued. “Dillon, you said that you were here to research your family’s history?”
“Yes,” he said, his gaze still on her. “For years I was told by my parents and grandparents that my brothers, cousins and I didn’t have any living relatives, and that my great-grandfather, Raphel Westmoreland, had been an only child. So you could imagine my surprise when one day, out of the clear blue sky, a man, his two sons and three nephews showed up at my ranch to proclaim they were my kin.”
Intrigued by the story, Pam placed her fork next to her plate and gave him her full attention. “How did they find you?”
“Through a genealogy search. The older man, James Westmoreland, knew that his grandfather, Reginald Westmoreland, had an identical-twin brother. It was discovered that that twin brother was my great-grandfather, Raphel, who had left home at twenty-two and had never been heard from again. In fact, the family assumed he’d died. They had no idea that he had eventually settled in Denver, married and had a son, who gave him two grandsons and then a slew of great-grands—fifteen, in fact. I am the oldest of the fifteen great-grands.”
“Wow, that must have been a shocker for you to discover you had other relatives when you assumed there weren’t any,” Jill, who was practically hanging on to Dillon’s every word, said. “What does your wife think about all of this?”
Pam watched Dillon smile and knew he hadn’t been fooled by the way the question had been asked. Jill wanted to know if he was a married man. Pam hated to admit that she was just as curious. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean a thing.
“She didn’t have anything to say because I’m not married,” Dillon replied smoothly. “At least not anymore. I’ve been divorced for close to ten years.”
Pam glanced over at Jill and prayed her sister had the decency not to inquire as to what had happened to end his marriage.
Fletcher, disliking the fact he wasn’t the center of attention, spoke up in an authoritative negative voice. “Sounds pretty crazy to me. Why would you care about a bunch of people who show up at your place claiming they were your relatives, or better yet, why would you want to find out your family history? You should live in the present and not in the past.”
Pam could tell Dillon was fighting hard to hold his temper in check, and his tone was remarkably restrained when he finally responded. “Do you have a family, Fletcher?”
Again, by Fletcher’s expression it was obvious he didn’t appreciate being the one receiving the questions. “No, I was an only child. My parents are deceased, but they didn’t have any siblings, either. I’m the only Mallard around for now.” He glanced over at Pam and smiled. “Of course, that will change once Pamela and I marry.”
Dillon nodded slowly. “But until that changes, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the significance of what a family means. I already do. Westmorelands are big into family and, after meeting my other relatives, my only regret is not having known them sooner.”
He glanced over at her and, for a second, she held his steady gaze. And she felt it. There was a connection between them that they were trying to ignore. She looked down at her plate as she continued eating.
Nadia asked him a question about his siblings and just as comfortably and easily as a man who was confident with himself and who he was, he began telling her everything she wanted to know. Without even trying, Dillon was captivating everyone at the dinner table...with the exception of Fletcher.
“How long do you plan to stay in town?” Fletcher rudely cut into the conversation between Dillon and the sisters.
Dillon glanced over at Fletcher. “Until I get all the questions I have about Raphel Westmoreland answered.”
“That may take a while,” Fletcher said.
Dillon smiled, but Pam knew it was just for Fletcher’s benefit and it wasn’t sincere. “I got time.”
She saw Fletcher open his mouth to make another statement and she cut him off. “Dillon, I should be able to help you with that. My great-grandfather’s old business records, as well as his personal journal, are in the attic. If you want to drop by tomorrow and go up there and look
