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Authors: Bonnie K. Winn

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“One you can make your own.” Miranda nodded. “That’s wise. That way no one’s too territorial. Course, you might have a time finding a place that’ll take your pets.”

An image of the picket fence she’d always dreamed of popped into Brynn’s mind. “Perhaps a house, where no one else sets the rules.”

“A house?” Miranda’s brows rose. “I thought Gregory only wanted a condo. No snow to shovel, no grass to cut.”

No yard for children to play in
. Brynn shrugged away the disloyal thought. “Well, we all change.”

“Change? Heavens, that boy’s gone through a complete transformation.” Miranda patted her blond, lacquered hair.

Brynn turned to another trunk. “There’s so much interesting stuff in here. So many memories.”

Miranda picked up a dusty scrapbook. “That’s for sure. None of us seems to be able to throw anything away. The MacKenzies’ history could fill the library, but I suspect the guests would rather have the latest bestsellers.”

“They’re foolish, then. This is all so real.” Brynn’s words hit her as she spoke. It
was
all so real, with one glaring exception—herself.

“‘Real’ doesn’t always translate into ‘interesting,”’ Miranda noted wryly. “I do have an idea, though. We could put a few of your bound strip books in the library, perhaps autographed ones. Maybe put a few Stephanie mugs in the gift shop. Once they know you’re part of the MacKenzie family, the guests will eat it up.”

Such a permanent reminder of her presence at once both pleased and unnerved her. Brynn didn’t want to damage the resort’s reputation by perpetuating a fraud. “I’ll have to check with my distributor.”

“Of course. It’s all business these days.” Miranda took out a ruffled blouse and held it up to the light. “Somewhere, there’s a skirt that goes with this.”

Brynn searched through her trunk. “Look! Lederhosen! Who wears these?”

“Frank always has. I don’t know, though. He’s lost so much weight since he’s been sick, he might not want to this year.” Miranda laughed. “And of course my handsome nephew shows off his good-looking legs in a pair.”

“Gregory does?” Brynn asked in delight.

“Why, no.” A small frown creased Miranda’s forehead. “I was talking about Matt. Gregory wouldn’t be caught dead in those. When we can talk him into coming to Octoberfest. he looks like a page out of the L.L. Bean catalog.”

“Oh, of course. I...I thought maybe he just got into the spirit of the day—and did something uncharacteristic. That’s how I’d feel.”

“But I think you’re more daring. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gregory. Since he was Frank’s first child, he was my first nephew and there’s something special about that. Since I don’t have children of my own, I’ve always interfered with Frank and Ruth’s. Luckily, they don’t mind.” Miranda laughed. “Or if they do, they don’t tell me. So, I kind of feel like their kids are partly mine. And, despite how different we are, I’m close to Gregory. Close enough to know it’s important to him to stay within the guidelines. As a child, he never even drew outside the lines in his coloring books.”

Brynn digested this, not sure quite how it fit into her picture of Gregory. “No one’s ever called me daring before.”

“That’s because I don’t think even you know it.” Miranda pulled out another skirt and blouse. “This should look good on you. You’re tall and delicate enough for it.”

Delicate
. No one had ever termed her build that way. She’d always thought she was simply too skinny. “A rack of bones,” as the unkind teenage boys had once called her. “If you say so.”

They continued their exploration and Miranda shook her head. “We may be here till Christmas.”

Brynn lifted up an ancient hatbox. then set it aside. “Miranda, why does everyone call Gregory by his full name instead of Greg? I mean, you don’t use Matt’s full name.”

Miranda didn’t look up. “I guess because Gregory’s always been a
Gregory
. Never occurred to anyone that he’d be anything else. And Matt. Well, he’s always been Matt. Unaffected, unpretentious.”

Brynn frowned briefly at the implication. Surely his own family didn’t consider Gregory to be pretentious.

But Miranda was making an excited noise as she lifted out tissue-wrapped packages, handling them carefully. “If there are any treasures up here, we’ve just found them.” She untied the string that was tied around the top parcel. As she folded the tissue back, her mood became nearly reverent. Then she lifted up what seemed to be yards and yards of material. It was a dress, an incredible-looking dress.

“It’s beautiful!” Brynn exclaimed, reaching out to touch the delicate ice-blue silk.

“I always thought so,” Miranda replied in a far more subdued voice than usual.

“Then it’s yours?”

Miranda ran one hand over the iridescent folds of silk. “It was. I suppose in a way it still is.”

“Was it for a special occasion?”

“Yes. For the Harvest Ball that’s at the beginning of the festival. But I never wore it.”

Brynn sensed currents of sadness. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you would have looked beautiful in it. I’m sure you still would.”

Miranda’s lips trembled for a moment. “You
are
a truly sweet girl.” Her hand strayed toward the wrinkles that had etched an irreversible path over her face. Wise, often cagey eyes now looked sad. “But I’m afraid my day’s past.”

Impulsively, Brynn reached out to cover the older woman’s hand. “I don’t believe that. Sometimes life has a way of surprising us. And I don’t think we can ever stop trusting in love...or that our soul mate exists. Sometimes the path is just a little rockier for us than we’d like, but it’s still a path.”

“How can anyone as young as you have collected all that wisdom? If I didn’t know better, I’d guess your path was rocky, and definitely filled with soul-searching.”

“I think a lot,” Brynn admitted. “Internalizing is what they call it, I believe. I suppose it came from being an only child, with just one parent.”

“It sounds lonely,” Miranda surmised accurately.

Brynn shrugged away the sympathy she heard. “I’m sure it sounds worse than it was. I simply became a daydreamer—and that’s not such a bad thing.”

Miranda studied her face. “No, I don’t suppose it is. Whatever shaped you made you a compassionate person and that is always a good thing.”

Brynn swallowed at the catch in her throat, unused to visible displays of emotion. She must have been right about Gregory, his sensitivity and depth. He would have to possess those qualities, coming from such a giving, caring family. “Thank you.” This time she didn’t duck her head at the compliment as she was accustomed to doing. Instead she smiled, realizing how very much she was growing to like Miranda.

“You’re welcome. Now, shall we keep digging?”

Brynn bent toward the nearest trunk.

“Wait!” Miranda’s voice took on a note of excitement.

Startled by the sudden change in Miranda, Brynn abandoned the trunk. “What is it?”

“The dress.” Miranda retrieved the blue silk and held it up.

“You’re going to wear it after all?”

“No. But you are.”

Brynn stared between Miranda and the beautiful dress. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do. It’s gorgeous. Too gorgeous. It would make me stand out. People would notice.”

“Notice? Child, you’d be the belle of the ball.”

“And the center of attention,” Brynn agreed glumly.

“And this isn’t a good thing?”

“Not for me. I’m not comfortable in situations like that. In fact, I like nothing better than to be a wallflower.”

Miranda stared at her. “I truly can’t imagine how you and Gregory wound up together. That boy thrives in the spotlight. And if you’re going to be a successful wife for him, you’ll have to get used to it.”

Brynn’s stomach clenched. “But just because Gregory likes the spotlight doesn’t mean—”

“Who do you think he’ll be sharing that spotlight with?”

Brynn was stumped for an answer. “Still, I couldn’t wear anything that gorgeous and... Well...”

Miranda held the low-cut bodice up higher. Although tasteful, it exposed more skin than Brynn had ever dreamed of showing. Nearly backless, it was a dream of a dress. And with vintage styles still imprinting the fashion scene, Brynn knew it would be a knockout. But certainly not the sort of thing she’d choose to wear. It was simply too beautiful. Too attention catching.

Her lips curled in a knowing manner, Miranda cocked her head. “Gorgeous and...daring?”

Brynn nodded.

“Then it sounds like it just suits you.”

“I never said I was daring. You did.”

Miranda lifted her brows. “But you just said that at something like the festival you’d do something uncharacteristic—just like you thought Gregory might.”

Caught. In a trap of her own making. “But that dress is special to you,” she protested. “Too special to be worn by someone else.”

“Not just someone,” Miranda reminded her. “By family. I’ll have someone bring this trunk to your room.”

Before Brynn could answer, Miranda tugged her toward the full-length antique cheval mirror that rested in one corner of the attic. Once in front of the mirror, Miranda held the dress up to Brynn. Of their own accord, Brynn’s hands moved to hold the dress in place.

Miranda pulled Brynn’s long hair upward, partially fashioning it into an upswept style. “Yes. Up on your head with lots of loose curls.” Then she frowned at Brynn. “How well can you see without your glasses?”

“So-so,” Brynn mumbled.

“What?”

“I need them to read,” Brynn admitted.

“Then whyever do you wear them all the time?”

“It’s just easier that way. I have clear glass in the top of the lenses so I don’t have to take my glasses off and on all the time.”

Miranda shook her head in disbelief. “Why a lovely young thing like you would want to hide behind those glasses is beyond me. But after you have on this dress, it won’t be a problem.”

“It won’t?”

“Nope. ’Cause you won’t be wearing them.”

Brynn felt a clutch of panic. The glasses were her security blanket, her guard against anyone crashing through carefully constricted defenses. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“I am,” Miranda replied firmly. “And I’ve been walking that path a good deal longer than you have.”

So she had. There was nothing like being rebutted by her own words, but Brynn felt she had to make one last, if hopeless plea. “Are we sure we’re talking about the same path?”

Miranda grinned, a thousand-watt smile. “Absolutely, my dear. Absolutely.”

Chapter Seven

B
rynn finished the last of her lunch, glad that Miranda was out with friends. Not that she wasn’t growing very fond of the older woman, but she’d been afraid that Miranda would decide to start a complete makeover. She pushed at the familiar security of her glasses for reassurance, before glancing at her dining companions. Even though Matt was at her table, she sat closest to Ruth and Frank, who had entertained her throughout lunch with stories about Gregory as a child.

Matt had been preoccupied, scribbling in a leather portfolio while they’d driven down memory lane. But the reminiscing seemed to perk up both Ruth and Frank.

That morning the family had spent hours on the phone, trying to learn news about Gregory. Ransom demands had been made. The MacKenzies were ready to pay if Drake Chemical hesitated. To their frustration, the State Department had insisted that they continue negotiations for the moment. Not wanting to set a precedent of a quick cash payoff which could encourage future abductions, the State Department refused to let Drake Chemical pay immediately. Frank and Matt, angered and frustrated, wanted to bypass the system, but that was impossible.

As Frank and Ruth rose, Frank patted Matt on the shoulder. “You have the bids for the new chair lift under control?”

Matt nodded. “Just working out some more cost projections.” He glanced at his watch. “But they’ll have to wait. I need to check Plum Ridge. If we don’t get the new lifts installed next season, we may have to overhaul the quads.”

Brynn listened to their exchange with interest, surprised that Matt was so familiar with the business side of Eagle Point. True, he’d grown up here, but this sounded like the nuts and bolts of the organization, not bookkeeping and outdoor maintenance.

“It’s an ambitious plan, son.” Frank looked at the same time both admiring and skeptical. “But you’re right about checking out Plum Ridge. I should be going with you—”

“Don’t worry about it, Dad. You know it’s my favorite spot. And I plan to take some more measurements. The new lift has to have more room than the quads.”

“Then you’ll definitely need a spotter—I should go.”

“Frank, let’s don’t have this argument again,” Ruth intervened. “You have no business trotting up a mountain. If Matt needs some help, I’m sure he could...” Her gaze landed on Brynn. “If Brynn wouldn’t mind, she could go along as spotter.”

Brynn caught the pleading look in Ruth’s eyes and knew she couldn’t refuse. “Of course. I’m not sure I’ll be much help—”

“You’ll do great,” Ruth interjected. “Right, Matt?”

He shrugged, only a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he looked pointedly between his parents. “You don’t have us fooled. You’re just trying to get rid of everyone so you two can be alone.”

That brought a smile to Frank’s face, along with relief on Ruth’s.

“Always said you were a bright boy,” Frank agreed.

Matt wagged his eyebrows at his father. “You know what they say about the acorn....”

“That it’s a good thing for the oak tree that you’re around,” Frank replied.

Brynn watched as the affection flowed between them, nearly stunned by the links that bound this family. No wonder they had such strength and happiness.

“Too bad neither the tree nor the nut noticed that we’re surrounded by an army of employees. We’ll hardly be alone,” Ruth teased.

Matt tsked. “The more you protest...”

Ruth took Frank’s arm. “Your son’s impossible.”

Frank leaned toward his wife, kissing her cheek as Matt turned to Brynn. “We’ll need to leave in a few minutes.”

“Sure.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be ready.”

Was this how normal family worked?

“Matt, Tracy wants you to look at the catering budget and sales schedule as soon as you can,” Ruth inserted, her hand sliding into Frank’s grasp. “She needs your approval before booking that teachers’ retreat. It’s the same weekend as the dental associates’ conference. She’s jiggled some banquet-room arrangements and she wants to make sure you approve.”

Brynn stared between Ruth and Matt. Why did they need his approval? Before she could stop herself, Brynn blurted out that same question.

Ruth glanced at her in surprise. “Because he’s the director.”

“Of banquets?”

Ruth shook her head. “Of Eagle Point and everything that’s connected to it.”

“Oh.” Brynn glanced at Matt, silently asking for an explanation. But he only grinned.

Together they exited the dining room and Brynn waited until Ruth and Frank were out of hearing distance. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she hissed.

“You didn’t ask.”

“You let me assume that you just did odd jobs around here.”

Matt shook his head. “You came to that conclusion on your own.”

“You still could have told me,” she insisted, remembering that she’d pigeonholed him as a party-loving jock who lived for the winter slopes.

“And spoil all your fun?” His grin widened. “Besides, I tried to correct your impression—you were even more convinced that I was the handyman.”

“You could have tried harder,” she insisted, uncomfortably recalling that she’d summed him up as a ski burn.

“You could have been more open-minded,” he countered.

True, but she wasn’t admitting that to him. “I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes, if that’s all right.”

“Don’t want to fight this one to the death?”

She rolled her eyes. “Is ten minutes all right?”

“Sure. Then I can gather my tool belt before we leave.”

“You plan to get a lot of mileage out of this, don’t you?”

He lifted one brow. “Think I can?”

“I think you liked playing with my head. Do you do that with everyone who comes here?”

“Only the ones who marry my brother,” he retorted.

Since she knew that was a brief list of one, Brynn didn’t have a reply. Their eyes met, the flare of that unwanted connection glaring between them, then receding as Gregory was forgotten. Awareness was a live, pulsing animal, one that breathed between them and rumbled with awakening desire.

“I’ll meet you out front,” he said finally, jerking away his gaze. “Bring a jacket.”

She nodded, wondering if Matt could be as rattled as she was. He knew that she’d already learned that the altitude demanded being prepared for unexpected drops in temperature. Purposely, she didn’t look at him as she ran up the stairs.

It was longer than they’d initially agreed before she and Matt were driving away from the lodge. Matt had delayed their departure, allowing some of the tension to dissipate. It was neither a companionable silence, nor a completely uncomfortable one as they rode along for some time, the cab filled with the music of a CD Matt had popped in.

“I need to stop in town at the printing company before we head to Plum Ridge,” Matt told her as they descended the mountain. “I have to approve some new brochures.”

“That might have been hard to pass off as part of the handyman’s duties,” she couldn’t resist replying, hoping to dissolve the remaining tension.

“You’d probably have decided that I was the copy clerk, as well.”

Brynn leveled him with her closest imitation of an intimidating glare.

But he looked mildly amused. “The detour will make us later than I expected. Is that going to play havoc with your work schedule?”

“No,” Brynn replied, wishing she could quash her nervousness at being alone with him. Somehow, in the lodge, she felt protected, surrounded by family and staff. Then the unexpected flashes of awareness between them were daring moments she could experiment with. Not to mention that it was easier to escape him there than in a confined, moving truck. “I got a lot done on my strip this morning so I’ve got some free time.”

He glanced at her briefly. “Good. Most of our printing’s done in Salt Lake but these flyers are just for the locals—we’re having a dance to celebrate the fall colors festival.”

“The Harvest Ball,” she replied.

He looked at her in surprise. “You know about that?”

“Miranda mentioned it.” Brynn fiddled with her hands. “I was...helping her look for some costumes.”

“‘Costumes’?”

“She said they were for Octoberfest.”

Matt nodded his head. “Time’s flying. That’s next month, but everything’s in place. Except the family’s costumes apparently.”

Brynn felt an impish force nudge her. Apparently Stephanie was rubbing off on her. “I hear you wear lederhosen to the Octoberfest.”

Matt straightened a bit self-consciously. “Oh?”

That imp was gaining ground. “Miranda told me how good you look in them.”

He straightened even more. “Miranda’s having fun pulling your leg.” He glanced at his own muscular thighs covered in respectable denim. “But it’s gotten to be a family custom. Ah, the joy of relatives.”

“You’d miss your relatives if you didn’t have them.”

He caught her eye for a moment. “I guess we learned that the hard way when Gregory was kidnapped.”

The impact of his words struck her when she met his gaze. For a moment she’d forgotten all about Gregory. How was that possible?

“I didn’t mean Gregory,” she tried to explain, realizing how insensitive she must have sounded. “I was referring to the rest of your family.”

“I know. After all, you’d miss Gregory just as much as we would if he didn’t come back.” Matt looked back at the road, purposely avoiding her gaze. “Maybe more.”

Swallowing, she nodded, content to let the music fill the silence again as they drove into Gallagher. They’d barely passed the general store when the alarm on her watch buzzed.

Matt turned toward her, cocking an inquisitive brow.

“Don’t worry. I got my strip to the driver early today. I just forgot to turn off the alarm.”

“You sure it’s nothing else?”

She searched her mind, but came up blank. “I don’t think so.”

He tipped his head back unexpectedly and laughed—that rich male sound she savored. “You’re something, Brynn.”

She wasn’t sure if that was good or not, but she didn’t comment as he pulled next to the curb on the main street. After parking, Matt automatically walked around to her door and opened it. Brynn hadn’t expected to go inside with him, but she appreciated his automatic assumption that she would.

Once inside, she met the proprietor, Earl Carouthers, the secretary, Susan, and the two shop technicians, Danny and Bill. Brynn learned that Carouthers handled the printing for all the merchants in the area, including those in the other small interconnecting communities in the valley.

By the time Matt had concluded his business, Brynn had been offered coffee, chatted with the employees, learned the latest town gossip, and tried unsuccessfully to squelch the latest version of one of her fabrications. She wondered if this was how Paul Bunyan had gotten his start.

Even so, their casual acceptance, the cozy friendliness of the town—it all charmed her. Feeling like a corny commercial for a Mayberry reunion, she ate up every hokey moment. Half expecting to run into Andy, Aunt Bea, Barney or Goober, she was pleased when Matt led her toward the post office as well.

Once Brynn was sure she hadn’t been sucked into a Norman Rockwell picture, she roamed around the small, rural post office that was tucked next to an old-fashioned hardware store. Matt told her the town’s Victorian-style buildings had been built between 1880 and 1900. Well kept and tidy, they lined the town’s main streets, adding to the nostalgic aura.

Rich in history, Gallagher, named for Gallagher MacKenzie, had begun as a trading post. Over the years it had burned to the ground twice. And at one time it had evolved into a booming mine town that later went bust, nearly becoming one of the hundreds of ghost towns that dotted the West. Yet each time the town had regrouped, rebuilt, the spirit of Gallagher MacKenzie urging it on.

With enough agriculture in place, the local farmers and ranchers had kept the town alive. Now Eagle Point brought in enough visitors to provide a steady tourist trade. Not as much as Matt envisioned, but enough to keep the town alive.

Brynn had learned a little of the town’s history from the various MacKenzies. But when Frank spoke about Gallagher he grew nostalgic, almost sad. He’d muttered something about Gallagher’s quaint sameness, how he wasn’t sure he was going to like the changes. Brynn had wondered about those changes, but they’d never been explained.

Reaching out to touch an ancient postal scale on the counter, Brynn was surprised to hear her name called from the doorway. Turning around, she saw Wilma, Donna, Jean and Karen. They were all outfitted in jogging suits and tennis shoes.

“We were just talking about you,” Wilma greeted.

Brynn smiled. “Most people won’t come right out and admit that.”

BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

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