His Small-Town Girl. Arlene James
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He waved a hand. “Hap filled me in on some of what you were doing all day.”
Had Tyler asked where she was? She tried not to let the possibility feel too good or even think about why it did. This man would be gone tomorrow. Her interest in him was a matter of hospitality, nothing more. Or it should be. She couldn’t imagine why it was necessary even to tell herself such things. Hadn’t she learned, long ago, that she should live her life without romantic entanglements? In her experience, someone usually got hurt. Once was quite enough for her.
She managed to shrug and say off-handedly, “Well, there’s always Sunday. We don’t even staff the front desk then. No reason to, really. Our regular trade runs Monday through Friday.”
“I’d think traffic would pick up on the weekend,” he mused.
“Not really. Most of it’s local. A few trucks come through. Not much else.”
“Must make for a slow, easy life,” he observed.
“Slow, maybe. Easy? Well, that depends.”
He nodded. “Right. I wouldn’t say that what you do is easy.”
“Oh, it’s not that hard, especially if you establish a routine. Mostly it’s just time-consuming.”
“Did you never want to do anything else?” he asked.
She answered without thought. “Not really. I didn’t feel called to teach school or what have you. Don’t see any point in waiting tables or clerking when I can do this, and trust me, I’d make a lousy secretary.” She shook her head. “This always felt right for me.”
“I guess your grandfather is happy about that.”
“I’m not sure he’s really thought about it. He loves this life, and I don’t think he ever imagined I wouldn’t.”
“Do you?”
“Sure. I wasn’t certain at first.” She shrugged. “Teenagers just want to be like everyone else, you know, even when they’re working so hard to be different, and living in a motel is not the same as living in a house. That bugged me for a while.”
Tyler chuckled. “I don’t see you as a rebellious teen.”
“Not at all,” she admitted, “but I had to make my peace with this life. After Gran got sick and her heart weakened, I started taking over more and more of her work, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that it gave her comfort at the end to think Granddad wouldn’t be shouldering all this alone.”
“I can’t imagine that he’s up to much of the physical work,” Tyler said carefully. “Arthritis?”
“Among other things,” she confirmed, “but he doesn’t let it get him down.”
“Yes, I noticed that. He seems, well, happy. You don’t know how lucky you are that he’s so upbeat.”
“Oh, I’m blessed, and I know it. My mother was just the opposite, you see, always worried, always feeling slighted and threatened. I sometimes don’t know what my father saw in her.”
“I do,” Tyler said softly, “if she looked like you.”
Stunned and dangerously thrilled, Charlotte floundered a bit, responding pragmatically to what she knew had not been a strictly practical comment. “Oh. No, actually. Her hair was much darker and…b-blue eyes. She was shorter, too.”
His smile tightened. “I mean, she must have been as pretty as you, as wholesomely attractive.”
Charlotte gulped. Of course she’d known what he meant, but for some reason she’d made him say it, and now that he had, she felt even more flustered. “Uh, yes. Th-that is, she was quite stunningly beautiful, actually. And I should’ve said thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” A grin flashed across his face, then he threaded his fingers together around one knee, saying lightly, “Sounds as if you might have had some issues with your mother.”
Charlotte ducked her head. Silly of her. It had been so long ago. Still, it was not a pretty story, not one to discuss with the merest acquaintance, anyway, even one who made her want to know him better, especially one who made her want to know him better. And especially with a man like him. Rich, probably even spoiled. What could he possibly know or care about her life? She adopted a light, airy tone.
“Doesn’t everyone have issues with their mothers?”
He chuckled. “I suppose.”
She changed the subject by inviting him to speak about himself. “I seem to recall that you mentioned a brother and sister.”
“That’s right.” Nodding, he named Cassandra, who was just fourteen months older than him, and Preston, twenty-six months younger. “We all work together.”
“Really? That sounds like fun.”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “All that sibling rivalry makes for a crazy dynamic, especially since someone has to be the boss.”
“And that someone would be you,” Charlotte murmured, somehow knowing it.
He leaned forward, forearms against his knees. “That would be me,” he admitted, “and my brother and sister both resent it. When they’re not fighting with each other or our mother and stepmother, they’re ganging up on me.”
Charlotte absorbed that for a moment, thankful that she and her brothers had always gotten along quite well, though Holt and Ryan had been known to bicker and quarrel as youngsters. Their father, she recalled, had worked hard to make them friends. Many times he had told them that if they were kind to one another they would be best friends when they grew up. Apparently Tyler’s parents had not succeeded in that regard with their children.
“Sounds difficult. I notice you didn’t mention your dad.”
Tyler clasped his hands. “He died about nine months ago from pancreatic cancer.”
Charlotte sat forward. “I am sorry.”
“Thanks.” He studied her as if trying to decide whether or not she was sincere before adding, “The cancer came suddenly and hit hard. His death changed everything and nothing, if you know what I mean.”
Charlotte shook her head, eyebrows drawn together. Her own beloved father’s death had changed everything, absolutely everything, in her family’s world. She couldn’t imagine it being otherwise. “I’m not sure I do.”
Tyler spread his hands, looking down at them pensively. “I-I’m not sure I can explain.”
“You could try,” she prodded gently, sensing that he needed to talk about it.
He sat in silence for so long that she began to feel embarrassed. Then suddenly he spoke.
“My parents divorced when I was twenty-four. I wouldn’t say that it was a particularly acrimonious marriage, but no one was really surprised, not even when Dad married his secretary.” He speared Charlotte with a glance. “Shasta is only five years older than me, and no one will ever know what she should have looked like, if you follow me.”
“I’m assuming there’s plastic surgery involved,” Charlotte said, disciplining a smile.
“At sixty-one, Mother is a whole lot resentful, not that she hasn’t had some tasteful work done herself, you understand.”
Charlotte lifted her eyebrows slightly. “Sounds as if you have a very interesting family.”
“Interesting I can handle,” Tyler muttered, sitting up straight. “The real problem is that ours is a family business, and everyone has seats on the board, along with some longtime employees and investors. My brother and sister and I received shares throughout the years, always on an equal basis, mind you. Mom got hers in the divorce, and Shasta inherited hers when Dad died. Throw in the fact that Dad named me CEO a month before he passed, and it makes for some, shall