for seven days and six nights here in the back of beyond she’d been livid, but since she’d only picked up the tickets this morning, it had been too late to do anything about it. Did he really think it would take her a week to do this interview?
Granted, Paul wasn’t exactly spilling his guts into her tape recorder, but she’d find a way around his reluctance to tell his story. And as soon as she wrapped up the interview she’d be heading to the airport to change her flight, no matter what it cost.
She kicked off her shoes and lay back in the bed, trying to organize her whirling thoughts. The interview with Paul hadn’t gone quite as she’d hoped, but she’d gotten some material she could use. Tomorrow she’d dig deeper; she was nothing if not stubborn. She could already feel the story taking shape: a portrait of two mountain climbers—the laid-back boy wonder versus her single-minded father.
A knock on the door roused her. She shoved off the bed and went to look through the peephole. The waitress from the saloon downstairs stood frowning up at the door, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently.
Sierra released the chain and opened the door. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Hi. I’m Kelly. From the Saloon?”
Sierra nodded. “I remember.”
“I’m on break and thought maybe we could talk.”
“About what?”
“Oh, you know. The town. Fashion. New York. I overheard Paul say you were from there.”
Was it a passing mention, or had the waitress been eavesdropping? Sierra had planned on interviewing some of the locals about their notorious neighbor, so she might as well start with this young woman. Maybe Kelly could provide some interesting background on what Paul was like when he wasn’t scaling mountains. Sierra held the door open wider. “Come on in.”
Sierra guessed Kelly was about twenty-one or twenty-two. Dressed in low-slung jeans and a black polo shirt with the Saloon’s logo, she might have been mistaken for any small-town waitress. But her jeans were an expensive name brand, and her pointed-toe boots had a three-inch heel and a designer pedigree. Her hair was cut in the latest style. She might be waitressing in an out-of-the-way restaurant, but she clearly wanted to set herself apart. “Have a seat,” Sierra said, indicating the room’s only chair, and settling herself on the side of the bed. “My name’s Sierra, by the way. Sierra Winston.” She waited for the last name to ring a bell, but Kelly gave no indication that it registered, which made Sierra relax a little more. She’d had enough of competing with her father’s ghost for one morning.
Kelly sat in the chair and crossed her legs, jiggling one foot. “Are you a reporter or something?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m a writer for a magazine called The Great Outdoors.”
“So you and Paul just met?”
“That’s right.”
The foot stopped jiggling. “I was wondering. He didn’t exactly act like you were strangers. He was being really friendly.”
“He isn’t usually friendly?” The idea didn’t jive with the Paul she’d seen so far.
“Not with reporters.” She laughed. “The other day a couple approached him while he was eating lunch in the Saloon and he threatened to sic his dog on them. As if Indy would hurt a flea! But the reporters didn’t know that, I guess. They backed off.”
“He agreed to an exclusive interview with my magazine,” Sierra explained. “It was all arranged before I flew out here. So, what can I do for you?”
“What part of New York are you from?”
“I live in Manhattan.”
“So you’re right where all the action is. Do you see many Broadway shows?”
“A few.”
“Know any actors or actresses?”
“Not well, but I’ve met a few. One of my neighbors is an actress, I think.”
“No kidding. What’s her name?”
Sierra shook her head. “I don’t know.” She didn’t know most of her neighbors’ names. “People in the city like their privacy.”
“I guess so. I mean, she probably doesn’t want to be bothered by fans and everything.”
“Right.” Sierra doubted her neighbor was famous enough to be recognized by anyone on the street, much less mobbed by fans.
“You’re so lucky,” Kelly said. “New York has everything—the theater, night life and great shopping. Those are killer shoes, by the way.” She nodded to the heels that lay on the rug beside the bed. “Totally impractical here, but they look awesome.”
“Thanks. But you’re right—they’re useless on these dirt streets. I’m supposed to go on a Jeep tour into the mountains tomorrow and I guess I need to find some hiking boots to wear.”
“What size are you? About an eight?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got a new pair I’ve hardly even worn. I could lend them to you.” Her gaze settled on the heels once more. “And maybe you’d let me borrow those? I have a hot date tomorrow night.”
The heels were brand-new and had cost more than the week’s accommodation at the hotel. But Sierra needed the hiking boots by tomorrow and Ouray didn’t look as if it boasted a lot of shoe stores. Besides, she liked Kelly, who so clearly craved more excitement than this small town could offer. “It’s a deal,” she said.
“Great.” Visibly more relaxed now, Kelly settled back in her chair. “I’d like to live in Manhattan one day. What I really want to do is act, but I guess there are probably plenty of waitressing jobs there.”
The longing in the younger woman’s voice struck a familiar chord in Sierra. She’d arrived in Manhattan with one thousand dollars in her bank account, clips from her college newspaper and a determination not to leave until she landed a job. She badgered every publisher in Manhattan until she found work as a copy editor at one house and a receptionist at another. She’d shared a tiny apartment with three other women and had worked practically around the clock for the first year. But eventually she’d landed a writing job and a few years later had moved into her own apartment. So who was to say Kelly wouldn’t make it as an actress, as well? “I think it’s almost a requirement that aspiring actors and actresses have waitressing jobs on the side,” she said. “Do you have any experience—acting, that is?”
“Only with local community theater. But I’m saving my money and I’m going to go there and take my chances soon.”
“When you’re ready to move, I can give you the names of some places to look for an apartment and roommates, and some casting agencies who might be able to help you,” she said. She’d interviewed several people at top agencies for a story for Cherché only last year.
“That would be great.” Kelly looked around the room. “So what do you think of Ouray? It’s a lot different from the city, isn’t it?”
“It might as well be on another planet,” Sierra admitted. “But the scenery is breathtaking.”
“The people are nice, too,” Kelly said. “Of course, being a small town, everyone pretty much knows everybody’s business, which makes it hard to have much privacy, if you know what I mean.”
“Then give me the scoop on Paul. What’s he like?” If Paul was so reluctant to talk about himself, maybe Sierra could gain some insight from those around him.
“Oh, he’s a lot of fun. Very …” Kelly tilted her head, as if searching for the right words. “Thoughtful. Considerate. I mean, some guys only think about themselves. Some women, too, I guess. But Paul is really interested in other people’s opinions. We went out a few times and he always wanted