His Montana Homecoming. Jenna Mindel
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your time.” Another sip.
“Have a seat, Dale.” Her father gestured toward the table. “Sandy made a frittata but if you’d like something else, say the word. The boys have already eaten, but there’s plenty.”
“Sandy’s a friend and our housekeeper and also a knitter for Julie’s business,” Faith explained while she loaded her plate from the chafing dishes on the buffet.
He gave her a bored look. “Coffee’s fine.”
Faith went back to the business of filling her plate. Dale would wish he’d have eaten these fixings after they were in the car for an hour-plus drive to Lone Peak. She made a mental note to stuff a few granola bars in her purse before they left. Then she sat down across from Dale, ignored his surprise at the heaping portion on her plate and dug in.
* * *
Dale watched Faith kiss the mayor’s forehead.
“Bye, Daddy. Not sure when we’ll be back.” She sounded genuinely considerate. Spoiled, maybe? No. He knew spoiled, and Faith Shaw wasn’t that.
“Take your time. And fill up your gas tank before you leave Jasper Gulch.”
“Will do.” She waited for him by the doorway. “Ready?”
Dale gathered his thoughts. “Yes.”
She gave him a once-over. “Don’t you have a different coat? Or boots?”
“This coat is warm, and these are my boots.” They were Gucci and comfortable.
Her eyes lowered in a knowing look. “You’ve never been to Lone Peak.”
“No.” Dale wasn’t a ski nut like Eric, his half brother. He never had the time or the inclination. “How’d you guess?”
“You’re a bit overdressed.” By her tone, he knew she wasn’t giving him a compliment. “I’ll get some real boots for you.”
“But we’ll be in the car.” Dale looked out the window as he followed her. The sun shone through puffy white clouds in a blue sky. Not a flake of snow at the Shaw spread.
“Out here, it’s best to be prepared.”
“For what?” Dale waited for her as she dived into a large walk-in closet.
She looked at him as if he lacked a brain. “We’re driving through the mountains. We could go off the road, get stuck in snow. Any number of things. The ski resorts have snow. The peaks always have snow. Your feet will freeze if we have to walk anywhere.”
“I see.” Dale owed the mayor a debt of gratitude for making Faith drive. He’d never given a breakdown or accident a single thought. Probably not wise to drive around this desolate area alone. He’d already learned cell coverage was spotty at best.
“Try these.” She tossed a pair of thick boots his way. They were huge lace-up things with felt liners.
Dale slipped off one sleek leather boot and stuck his foot inside. “Yeah, they fit.”
She smiled. “I figured you were closer to Adam’s size than Austin’s. You’ve got big feet.”
He chuckled as he slid his foot back into his own shoe-boot. “So, how’d you end up so small compared to the rest of your family? Did they find you under a fern somewhere?”
She grinned. “That would explain a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Like why I never want to leave this land. Shaw land is part of me, like, in my blood. You know?”
He didn’t, but he nodded anyway as he watched her shrug into her own coat and pull on felt-lined boots that hit her midcalf and had fake fur along the top. He followed her out and climbed into the passenger seat of her little SUV.
The Shaws lived quite a ways out of town. Their driveway alone seemed like miles long. Lush green grass surrounding the house gave way to straw-colored grass that grew tall and spindly against the wire fencing. An immaculate spread of red barns and outbuildings, the property had to be worth a small fortune. Horses sauntered in their pasture, some following after Faith’s SUV within their confined space.
Dale stared out the window as if transfixed by the purple mountains behind rolling hills dotted with evergreens. The clear blue sky held puffy white clouds that looked so huge and close enough to touch.
“It is beautiful land,” he finally said.
“I think so.” Faith nodded. “Different than New York, I imagine.”
He chuckled and focused on Faith’s driving the road ahead. She had a lead foot. “Very different. Although, the city sprawls with the same vastness. New York is huge and it’s a city that never sleeps.”
Faith shook her head. “I wouldn’t like that. I look forward to my eight hours.”
Dale had certainly received his share of sleep overnight and then some. He’d slept hard with none of the trouble that came with travel and hotel rooms.
Finally, Faith pulled into the bank on the corner of Shaw Boulevard and Main. Dale made a call on his cell during the short drive into town. He’d gotten through to his office and left a message on his father’s voice mail that he was headed for the ski resort meeting. He’d give him an update later.
Faith parked, got out and then peeked her head back inside. “Want to come in? There’s a picture of your great-great-grandpa hanging on the wall in there.”
Dale checked his phone. No new messages. “Silas?”
Faith nodded.
“Yes. I’d like to see that.”
Despite the warm morning sunshine, there was a distinct chill in the air. He glanced at those awful boots tossed in the backseat. No way.
They walked toward the glass doors of a building that blended in with the rest. Same storefront look with a simple facade. It didn’t look old. Not like the city hall building he’d seen when he first drove into town. In fact, that place looked more like a bank than this one.
“Hi, Faith.” A man close to his own age and height opened the door for her as he exited the bank. His smile was warm and welcoming. The word easygoing came to mind.
“Pastor Ethan, good morning.” She stopped short and Dale nearly ran into her. Again. “This is Dale Massey—he’s come to represent one of the founding families for homecoming.”
The guy extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Dale shook it. Pastor Ethan looked more like a well-groomed surfer than a minister. He had relaxed casual nailed. Faith could do worse. “Likewise.”
“I’m showing him around,” Faith said with a sheepish smile.
“Great. Yeah, well, have a nice day.” The minister nodded and walked on. No jealousy there.
Dale followed Faith inside. “That’s your boyfriend?”
Faith shook her head and laughed. “No.”
“But your mom said—”
“Just talk. There’s too much talk in this town, especially these days. All I did was bid on his picnic basket and next thing I know, folks were guessing the date.”
“You did what?”
“Bid on his picnic basket, you know, at the fair.”
He was lost.
Faith’s eyes widened with pitiful mirth. “You’ve never been to a small-town fair.”
“No.” Why’d she make it sound as if he’d missed something important?
They walked inside and another man, short and stocky in a gray suit with a bad comb-over from premature hair loss, approached them. He, too,