Last Chance Llama Ranch (42 page)

Marcus flexed like the showman he was, and Merry stifled a grin. “Federico, this is my brother, Marcus. Uglymug, this is our town mayor, Federico Rios y Valles. He's also a fantastic stylist.”

“I do appreciate a cutting-edge haircut,” Federico allowed. He examined Marcus's expertly gelled coif. “
And
a man who knows how to show himself to his best advantage. Of course, you don't need help with that, do you, gorgeous?”

Marcus cast a triumphant glance at Jane, as if to say, “Now here's someone who appreciates me!”

Jane merely snorted. She couldn't have looked less impressed examining mange on a dog.

Marcus turned his back on her. “So, Mr. Mayor, what's your favorite product?” he asked, and soon the two men were deep in conversation about pomades versus waxes. Jane wandered off to swap amigurumi advice with Sage.

And Merry found herself alone with her father.

“Seems you've had quite an impact here, young lady,” Pierce said.

He'll probably be calling me “young lady” well into my sixties
, Merry thought, looking at her father fondly. “I hope so,” she replied. “They've had quite an impact on
me
, Dad. Dolly and her friends…they're pretty amazing people.”

“Then they're in good company, sweetheart. Because I think you're pretty amazing too.”

Merry warmed under her father's words. “Wish Mother thought so,” she said, then wished she'd kept the thought behind her teeth.

“Your mother loves you very deeply, Merry,” Pierce told her. “I know she regrets how hard it's been for you two to see eye to eye. When Dolly reached out to us with her invitation to share the holiday, your mother jumped at the chance—even knowing there'd be barnyard animals.”

Merry couldn't bring herself to laugh at her father's lame attempt at humor. “I wish I could believe that. But it seems like she just wants me to come home, toe the line like a good little daughter.”

Pierce shook his head. “She wants you to be
happy
, Merry,” he corrected. “It's what we all want.”

A lump formed in her throat. “I…I think I
am
, Dad.”

Pierce pulled her in for a hug, and for a moment Merry inhaled the scents of childhood—of tweed sport coats and the cigars her father still snuck when he thought Gwendolyn wouldn't notice. He kissed her cheek. “Then your mother and I are happy too, sweetheart. It just may take her a little longer to realize it.” Pierce clinked glasses with her, then drained his as he watched his wife reenter the restaurant with Rebecca. “Be patient.”

“You've been patient long enough!” shouted Dolly, emerging from the kitchen. She banged on a pot with a huge wooden spoon. “Take your places, people. It's chow time!”

W
hat Bob and Dolly drew forth from the tiny café kitchen was an astounding culinary feat.

What they drew forth from yours truly was both simpler and more savory.

Gratitude.

Happy T-day, friends and neighbors. I hope your holiday was as full of love and good cheer as was mine.

There was a mad scramble for the tables, now laden with fragrant dishes from marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes and cranberry relish to green bean casserole, chestnut stuffing, and of course, perfectly browned turkeys. Plate after plate of Dolly's prized biscuits rounded out the offerings, with gravy moored alongside in deep boats. The smell alone was enough to make Merry's knees weak. She found herself seated between her brother and Sam, her parents across from her. Dolly took her mother's left, with Bob on
her
left. Jane had landed up beside Marcus, seeming none too pleased about it.

“I'd like to start tonight's festivities with a traditional thanksgiving blessing,” Bob said, loudly enough for all to hear. “The author of this one may be lost to the mists of time, but his message still rings true today. Everyone grab hands, and I'll expound.” He inhaled a breath and took on his toastmaster tone.

He settled back, beaming at the assembled guests. “And…go!”

Across the table, hands reached out to snatch whichever dish was nearest.

“Hold on, heathens!” Dolly shouted. She smacked Bob's biscuit-thieving hand with her spoon. “No one eats until he or she says one thing he's grateful for.”

Groans rang out around the table. Dolly ignored them in queenly fashion. “I'll pick a victim to get us started,” she said. “How about you, Randi?”

“I'm grateful for my fellow hookers!”

Gwendolyn looked alarmed.

“I'm grateful for
The Walking Dead
being back on!” said Sage.

“For another year with my main squeeze,” said Steve, kissing Mazel.

“For Aguas Milagros!”

“Hear, hear!”

Around the table, sentiments both sweet and silly were shared, until finally, it was Dolly's turn. The guests grew quiet, apart from the growling of stomachs.

“I expect you've all heard this might be the last year for us Cassidys at the Last Chance,” she said. Heads nodded solemnly. “And it's true; we may have to fold our tents if we can't find a way outta this mess pretty quick. But I'm not one to bemoan what's lost, or worry about things I can't change. I'd rather focus on what we've
got
, and right now, that's each other.”

“And some damn fine biscuits, Dolly!” Randi shouted from down the table.

“And some damn fine biscuits,” she allowed. “Thing is, this year, I can't think of a single thing to be grateful for.” Eyes widened as people stared at Dolly. “That's because I'm grateful for so
many
things. My nephew Sammy, of course.” She looked over at Sam, who gave her a little salute. “Couldn't imagine running the Last Chance without him these past seven years. And Janey, who keeps me in stitches while we're stitching. And yeah, even Bob here. I'm glad to let bygones be bygones, and be grateful for all those years of friendship we've shared—as well as the ones to come.” She cast him a fond glance, and he returned it.

“But there's one unexpected gift that came my way this year, and that's our Merry.” She turned her gaze to Merry, and her eyes were moist. “Child, you've been a revelation, and an inspiration too. From day one you've given it your all. I've never known a woman with half the grit you've got, and it's given me the gumption to keep fighting in the face of whatever comes my way, whether its bankruptcy or something unexpected down the road. So here's to Merry!”

And as one, two dozen glasses were raised. “To Merry!”

Merry blushed a deeper crimson than the cranberry sauce.

“I'd like to second that,” said Bob when the shouting had died down. He cleared his throat. “Since she's been here, Merry's made us all see ourselves more clearly. She's held, as Hamlet once said, ‘the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.' Her stories have exposed our foibles, celebrated our uniqueness,
and
improved our business. Plainly said, Lady Hobbit, we're glad you're here.”

“I'll third that,” said Jane, elbowing across Marcus to muss Merry's hair. “Here's to Merry! Maybe you can't crochet worth a damn, but you sure have wound your way into a lot of hearts around here.” She toasted Merry with her wineglass.

Merry was too blinded by tears to toast back.

Before she could begin to gather her emotions, Sam spoke up. “My thanks this year go to Merry as well,” he said. He reached out and cupped her cheek, gently wiping the tears away. “The moment Buddha hauled off and hawked a loogie in your face, Merry, I knew things were never going to be the same around here. From summiting Wheeler Peak on a bum leg to birthing an alpaca all by yourself in the middle of a snowstorm, you're the bravest woman I've ever known. And that bravery healed something in me I didn't know was broken. You've opened my heart, Merry Manning.” He paused, and Merry saw there were tears in his eyes as well. “And you've claimed a piece of that heart—if you want it.”

Merry found her hands were trembling, and she knew only one place they'd find shelter. She tucked her fingers inside his own. “Oh, I want it,” she said.

“Gag! Retch! Puke! Jesus, you two, if you were trying to get me back on my diet, you've succeeded. Who could stomach such treacle?” Marcus shuddered.

“Your sister was trying to have a moment there, sport,” said Pierce, calmly unfolding his napkin.

“And the rest of us are trying to have dinner. So can we hurry it up?” Marcus winked at Merry, and, snuffling back both tears and laughter, she pulled a face at him.

Gwendolyn refrained from cautioning Merry against the potential ruination of her face. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Pierce and I are also very grateful to be with you all today,” she announced. “I honestly can't remember when we've had such a charming country holiday. Isn't that right, dear?”

Pierce nodded. “Beats Turkey Day at the White House, hands down.”

“So today I'm grateful for…” Gwendolyn looked pensive. “Well, for having a lot to chew on, I suppose.”

Considering the minuscule portion she'd ladled onto her plate, Merry didn't think her mother was talking about food.

“Can we eat now?” Bernie yelled.

They could eat.

T
hey have a post-Thanksgiving tradition here in Aguas Milagros. And while the town is salutary in so many ways, I cannot “get with” this particular one.

Who in their right minds would want to get naked with stomachs as full as ours still were the day after a festival meal as rich, satisfying, and altogether egregious as the one served to us by the inimitable team of Dolly Cassidy and Needlepoint Bob?

Who, moreover, would want to get naked with their parents, their hostess, and their supermodel brother, in the company of their brand-new boyfriend? (Sorry, fans, I'm afraid Studly Sam is officially off the market. He says “hi” though.)

Despite my better judgment, off we went to the hot springs, for Aguas Milagros is a town deeply rooted in tradition, and who was I to change that? (Seriously, I asked, but apparently I hadn't the power to change it.)

Unfortunately, I was proven right in my protestations.

Because the springs were already occupied. By a big, fat snake.

“We are totally getting out of this,” Merry assured Sam. “No
way
Pierce and Gwendolyn are going naked in public.”

Sam gulped. She'd never seen him disconcerted before, but she was sure as hell seeing it now. “It's one thing to meet your girlfriend's parents,” he muttered, tidying his ponytail as they approached the hacienda from his hobbit hole in the early-morning light. “It's another to…you know,
meet
them.”

“Thought you were all about
au naturel
,” Merry teased.

“There's
au naturel
and there's ‘
au, please gouge out my eyes with a melon baller
.'”

“Never fear,” she said, patting his arm as they entered the house. The Mannings were sipping coffee at the kitchen table, looking bright-eyed and rested, while Dolly fussed around them.
Let's see if I can blow their Zen
, she thought. “Guys, there's something they probably didn't tell you about the springs at Aguas Milagros.” She paused. “It's
naked-only
.”

Puzzled looks met her pronouncement.

“What other way would there be to visit a hot spring, darling?” Gwendolyn said. Merry couldn't tell if it was the Botox or if her mother was truly unfazed.

“Naked, as in
you
have to
get
naked. In front of other people.”

“I'm game,” said Marcus.

Merry rolled her eyes. Of course he was. Her brother never missed an opportunity to shuck trou. But it was her parents' blasé reactions that stumped her.

“When in Rome,” Pierce said with a shrug. “And believe me, they do stranger things in Rome—or at least the diplomatic corps do, when they're off the clock.”

“Darling, don't be so provincial,” Gwendolyn drawled. “A woman of the world doesn't blush at such things. Why, your father and I visited the baths in Kyoto countless times when we were stationed there.”

“But you said…you
totally
gave me hell when I did it in Istanbul, and that wasn't even coed!”

“One
does
it, Merry. One doesn't
tell
people about it.” If Merry hadn't known better, she'd have sworn she saw Gwendolyn wink.

Sam chuckled, and she shot him a dirty look. “Mother, it's a mile up the mountain, and you don't have the right shoes. And…and…” Merry ran out of reasons.

“A walk in the woods will be bracing,” said Pierce, bouncing on his toes. “Especially after all that food yesterday.” He patted his stomach.

“Yes, and Dorothy's been kind enough to lend me a pair of quite sporty walking shoes.” Gwendolyn stuck out one small foot, clad in a pair of Keds. “We're all keen to set off, Merry, so do stop dawdling.”

“Sam, help!” Merry whispered.

“Look, I'm one hundred percent with you on this one,” he said, whispering just as low. “But I know when I'm licked. Let's just get this over with, and pray for a steamy morning at the springs.”

Dorothy had been unusually quiet this morning, and Merry knew she was more worried about John resurfacing than she let on. She stuck close to Sam as the party set off, leaning a little on his arm, and Merry let them have their time together. She could use a little time with her closest relative too.

Merry trod the path alongside Marcus, envying him his smooth stride, though she had to admit her own gait was far stronger than it had been just weeks ago. “So, what'll you do with your big sweaty wad o' Granny-cash?” she asked. “You must be slavering to get spending now the bequest's come due.”

“I didn't take it, actually.”

Merry did a double take. “You're shitting me.”

Marcus shrugged. “I started thinking about what you said, about the strings attached. And the more I thought, the more I realized that I wanted to…I don't know…be my own man, I guess. The business I'm in…it doesn't exactly promote responsibility. Fashion is all about the illusion of eternal youth. But we both know I'm near the end of my shelf life. Another year or two, and I'll be lucky to get print campaigns for Eddie Bauer. I wasn't wise with my money because I knew I had Grandmother's fortune to fall back on. Figured I'd spend the rest of my days making Mother happy by sucking up to old biddies for her charitable campaigns. Or I could marry Penny Aberdeen, the way she's been hoping for about the past ten years. But then I thought about all
you've
been doing…and, well, it sort of shamed me. You've always been the better of the two of us—”

Merry's jaw dropped. “Marcus, nobody thinks that—”

“Sure they do. Let's face it, Sis. You've always been the driven one, the talented one. Me? I just had a pretty face. But you…the whole world knew your name. You were America's next great champion. And when your first career was taken away, you got back up on your feet and found a new way to win people's hearts. That's the kind of person you are, Merry. Tough. Resilient. A fighter. You may be my little sister, but I look up to you. And not just because you
are
a big ol' Sasquatch.”

Merry stopped right there on the trail and gave him a hug.

“So what
do
you want to do?” she asked when they resumed walking.

He shrugged again. “I thought I'd try the other side of the camera for a change,” he said. “Maybe some nature portraits, or even documentary filmmaking. There are a lot of great causes I could champion, instead of just exploiting my body for cash. It's scary as shit to think of going it alone, but I've got enough connections to get me started. Hell, maybe I'll go to grad school.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Imagine me, a student at nearly forty. Maybe I'm being ridiculous.”

Merry beamed at her brother. “For the first time in all the years I've known you, Marcus, I don't think you're the
least
bit ridiculous.”

The sight that met their eyes at the hot springs, however, was.