but his eyes found Lucille’s and he lowered one lid in the suggestion of a wink.
Lucille coughed. It was either that or burst out laughing, and laughing at Cassie was never a good idea. She had friends in county government who could make Lucille’s life uncomfortable. Right now, thanks to Gerald’s sympathy, Cassie looked triumphant. “You’ve got to find room in the budget to replace those shelves,” she said.
“Submit your request in writing and the town council will take it under consideration at our next meeting,” Lucille said. “But if the money isn’t there, it isn’t there.”
Cassie sniffed. “It was so nice to meet you, Mr. Pershing,” she said, transforming immediately when she faced Gerald once more. “Do stop by the library. I’d love to show you around.”
“If you’re sure I won’t be injured by falling shelves.”
“I . . . well.” Cassie sniffed again. “Well!” Then she hurried away, glaring at both of them over her shoulder just before she pushed out the door.
Lucille collapsed against the counter, laughing. “Gerald, you are too wicked,” she said.
“It is a persistent fault.” He leaned across the counter toward her, intimately close, his mouth mere inches from hers, eyes shining. She felt a thrill, the excitement of being the center of attention to the person she most wanted to be with. “You are amazing,” he said. “Running a business and taking on the responsibility of overseeing the whole town . . . I don’t see how you do it.”
“It’s not as if this business is particularly demanding. And I don’t run the town—the town council does that. I’m more of an administrator.”
“Still, it’s a large burden for one person, especially in these perilous financial times.”
Gerald had a formal, flowery way of talking that some people found off-putting, but Lucille saw it as part of his charm. He behaved like a man from an earlier, more courtly era. “The lack of money does make the job a little more stressful,” she admitted. “We don’t have enough money for essentials, much less extras like Cassie’s library shelves.”
“Much like many a personal budget, I suspect.”
“Yes, I know a lot of people are hurting, which is why I hate to cut any services residents depend on.”
He straightened, his expression more serious. “In my work I see it often.”
Gerald had told her he was involved in investments some way. “Is your business hurting, too, with the economy?” she asked, then felt stupid for even asking. Of course it was. Whose wasn’t? Even receipts at Lacy’s—the kind of place people shopped when they were strapped for cash—were down.
“On the contrary. I don’t like to brag, but I’m doing very well for my clients. I was lucky enough to discover a few investments that have actually grown, despite the economic difficulties in other sectors. In fact . . .” He paused, his eyes searching hers. She nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I would never presume to take advantage of your friendship,” he said. “But I would love to help you out of your difficulties. I could show you some areas where the town might think about investing, where you could realize a solid return on your money quite quickly. It might be enough to help you out of your current difficulties.”
The idea seemed crazy, but definitely tempting. Right now the town had its small surplus in certificates of deposit with the Eureka Bank. “I couldn’t make a decision like that on my own. The town council would have to approve.”
“Of course. And there’d be no obligation.” He smiled, blue eyes sparkling. God, he was handsome. “I’ll bring some material to dinner with me for you to look over. You can let me know and if you like, I can make a presentation to the council.”
His interest in her problems touched her. She’d been alone so long—raising her daughter with little help from Olivia’s father, coming to Eureka after Olivia left home, and making a life for herself here. She’d enjoyed living on her own terms, being independent. She scarcely knew how to lean on someone else anymore, but it was a surprisingly good feeling. As if the time was finally right for a little romance in her life.
CHAPTER TWO
Maggie didn’t say much on the drive up to the French Mistress Mine the next day, letting Jameso carry the conversation. She gazed out the window at scenery that still took her breath away, despite its familiarity. Mountains like jagged, broken teeth jutted against a sky as blue and translucent as the finest turquoise dug from the French Mistress. Aspen glowed yellow against the darker green of conifers on the flanks of the mountains, the road a red-brown ribbon wound between the peaks. The truck engine whined as Jameso shifted into low gear to climb a steep grade.
“Most years there’d already be a foot of snow up this high,” he said. “Bob’s saying we might not get any snow at all before Christmas. Telluride’s making snow on a few slopes, but it’s not the same as the real stuff. It ices up too much.”
A native of Houston, Maggie wasn’t sure how she felt about snow. The longer it held off, the better, she thought, though Jameso didn’t share that opinion and she wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.
“You’re being kind of quiet this morning,” he finally said as he turned his truck onto the dirt track that led to the mine. “You feeling okay?”
“Just a little queasy.” That was true enough. Between the winding mountain roads and her misgivings about the news she had to give him, it was a wonder her breakfast was staying down.
“Are you coming down with something?” He took one hand off the steering wheel and laid it on her forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”
“I’ll be fine.” She blinked back sudden tears. His palm on her forehead had been cool and slightly rough, yet the gesture itself had been quite tender. The kind of gesture she could imagine a father making toward a daughter. Or a son. She swallowed hard. If she burst into hormonal tears here, Jameso might freak out and run the truck right off the side of the mountain. For the sake of her unborn child—and her own dignity—she had to keep it together.
“Let’s go by the house first and check on things,” she said.
Her father’s house—her house now—was a three-room miner’s shack with no two windows the same size. Solar panels, a wood stove, and a cistern provided all the comforts of home. Though her father had lived here year-round for years, the road wasn’t plowed in winter and Maggie had no desire to commute to work on a snowmobile, so she’d relocated to a place in town, next door to Jameso.
Three weeks ago, they’d come up to the cabin and drained all the water lines, emptied the refrigerator, and closed everything up tight for the winter. But she felt the need to revisit the place as long as they were here. It had been the first home she’d ever had that was hers alone. She’d gone straight from her mother’s house to her husband’s apartment. Living on her own had been a heady sensation—a privilege she hadn’t been willing to give up when Jameso asked her to move in with him. Judging by the look of relief in his eyes when she’d turned down the invitation, he wasn’t ready to give up his independence either, which didn’t bode well for their baby.
“I’ll go around back and make sure marmots haven’t gnawed the insulation off the pipes,” Jameso said as he and Maggie climbed out of the truck, parked on the only semi-flat stretch of dirt in the yard.
“Marmots?”
“They like the way the insulation tastes, for some reason. Porcupines like to gnaw foundations, but since the cabin’s built on rock, you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Between potential avalanches and rock slides, lightning storms and attacks by wildlife, it’s a wonder anyone ever even tried to live up here,” she said.
“Nature’s always trying to take back its own,” he said, and disappeared around the side of