Chapter 39
Trent didn’t have anything more to say, and evidently neither did Brittany. They exchanged very few words as they ate breakfast and got dressed. She’d brought some knockabout clothes for the ride home on Sunday and she wore those for the morning’s work party.
She asked to borrow his baseball cap because she didn’t want to risk getting the silverbelly dirty. She pulled her hair through the back. That cap had never looked so good.
He didn’t ask her whether she’d leave after the reception or stick around. Since her mother would be driving out for the wedding, she had an option that didn’t include him.
Good thing she had that choice. If she decided to end their physical relationship, he’d rather not endure the trip back to her house.
With Angie directing the bench assembly and many hands doing the job, they soon had enough rows to seat the multitude arriving for the five o’clock ceremony. Sam raced among the benches, his flag of a tail waving as he collected ear scratches and the occasional treat.
Brittany chose to work with Ella and Faye and he ended up with a group that included his folks and Marsh. When Marsh joined him for a water break and asked how things were going, he decided the guy had attached himself to that crew on purpose.
He wiped his forehead on his sleeve as he decided how to answer. “She still doesn’t believe me. So I’ve let it go.”
“You’re giving up?”
“That’s not an option.” He’d be tied to her for the rest of his life, but Marsh didn’t know that yet. “I’ve stopped trying to convince her, though.”
Marsh nodded. “Smart.”
“Don’t know about smart, but it’s calmed me down some.” He glanced at Marsh. “Have you heard her sing Brown Eyed Girl?”
Marsh started to laugh. “Oh, no. Tell me she didn’t.”
“She did.” The night hadn’t been a success in any sense of the word, but remembering that part made him smile.
“Did you laugh? I hope you laughed.”
“Couldn’t help it.”
“Good, because that’s what she’s going for. If you’d tried to pretend you liked it, you’d lose points.” He nudged back his hat, his gaze steady. “She doesn’t sing that song for just anybody. She has to trust you before she’ll do it.”
“Oh?”
“You may be in better shape than you think.”
The knot in his chest loosened a bit. “Thanks. That’s nice to hear.” He looked over his shoulder at the bench crew. “Time to get back to work.”
Twenty minutes later, someone called his name. When he lifted his head, Lucky was on his way over. Now that he thought about it, Lucky hadn’t been part of the work crew.
Strange, because the bookstore was closed today. “Hey, Lucky.” He laid a plank on the stacked cinderblocks and straightened. “What’s up?”
“We’re having a meeting about the Apple Grove location and we need your input. Mom asked me to come get you.”
“You’re meeting now?” Trent pulled off his gloves and fell into step beside Lucky.
“It’ll be a short one.”
“Who called it?”
“She did.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I told her it could be handled when she gets back from Africa, but she said it was too important to put off.”
“Alrighty, then.” He took the steps fast but made sure he didn’t bump into the decorated arch. Flowers had been added to the greenery.
Lucky headed for the library and Trent followed. The door was open.
“The Wenches are part of this meeting?”
“We figured they might as well be since they were on site anyway.”
Trent took off his hat and nodded to the women seated in a large circle, each in a wingback chair that matched her signature color. Dining chairs had been added to the circle. Andy had joined the group, along with Oksana, Lucky’s business partner and fiancée.
Lucky took one empty chair and Trent settled into the other one.
Desiree started things off by looking straight at him. “Your brother gave me a heads-up yesterday that he’d accidentally tipped you off about a family secret.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”
“I’m sure he didn’t, either, and it’s fine, because he also let me know you’re putting a lot of time and effort into finding M.R. Morrison.”
The pieces fell into place. “You know where he is, don’t you?”
She smiled. “Yes, I do.” She left her purple chair, walked over to him and held out her hand.
He got to his feet and took it. “I don’t?—”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m M.R Morrison.”
His jaw dropped. “You can’t be.”
“Ah, but I am. Everyone in this room will back me up. So will the folks outside working on the bench project. Brit doesn’t know, and I haven’t told your folks yet, but otherwise, everyone else is in on the secret.”
“But he’s a man.”
“That’s what you’ve been led to believe all these years.” She squeezed his hand and let go. Then she waggled her fingers in front of his face. “These hands typed all those books. They came from this brain.” She pointed to her head. Then she shrugged and returned to her chair. “Or they came out of the ether. Sometimes it feels like ideas just drop out of nowhere.”
“I’m stunned.”
“I can see that. But we don’t have a lot of time, so please take your seat and put your thinking cap on, because we have a major issue to decide, one that involves many opportunities and many risks.”
Nobody had asked him to put his thinking cap on since third grade. But if he’d ever needed to put one on, it was now. Questions bounced around in his head begging to be answered, but her brisk attitude told him now was not the time to satisfy his curiosity. Action was required.
“To quickly bring you up to speed, I created the pseudonym because thirty-plus years ago male Western authors sold better. Times have changed. Is it time to uncloak myself?”
Trent opened his mouth to give her a hell, yes when she stopped him with a raised hand.
“Think before you answer. It would ensure the Apple Grove store’s success. It would bring more business to this shop, too. And to the town. It might help remove any remaining prejudice against women who write Westerns. But it will certainly result in a loss of privacy to this family, to Rowdy Ranch. It could also change the character of this sleepy little town we all love.”
He stared at her. “Are you planning to make this decision now? Today, of all days?”
“No, I’m not. But I would like to take a preliminary vote of the people in this room about the advisability of the idea.”
“What about the rest of the family?”
“We’ll discuss it when I get back from Africa. Before you vote, know that if we do this, we won’t be shy about it. We’ll go for broke. We can’t pull that off for the June grand opening, but maybe by August, we’d be ready to pull out all the stops. I want a show of hands. Who’s?—”
“I shouldn’t vote. I’m not really a member of this?—”
“Yes, you are.” Desiree held his gaze. “As of this moment, you’re family.” She shifted her attention to the group. “Okay. Who’s in favor of introducing the world to the real M.R. Morrison?”
Thinking he’d be in the minority, he raised his hand. So did everyone else. Even Desiree.
She grinned. “Looks like this is a go for broke crowd, after all.”
Trent did a mental fist pump. Hot damn.