See Jane Fall (20 page)

They were still staring.

“Anything else?”

Amongst murmurs of no and dazed shaking
heads, she buckled her backpack, and slung it over her
shoulder.

“Great. Then I’ll see you all tomorrow.
Remember, it’s a shoot day. Bring your A game!”

Ray approached her as the others headed back
to their rooms.

“Mm-hm. And what did Miss Thing say about
this
vacation
?” He used air quotes around the words
vacation, his brown eyes censorious.

Jane took a deep breath and admitted, “She
doesn’t know yet.”

“And when, ’zactly, are you planning to
share this glorious news with her?”

“I thought the last minute would be best.”
It occurred to her that she hadn’t told the crew to keep it quiet
until then. “You think she’ll hear about it from anyone else before
then?”

Ray smiled at her sadly. “You jump on the
tracks and push us out of the way over and over again. Ain’t no one
in this crew gonna say nothing no how to no one. I know it ain’t
your strong suit, but you can trust us, Janie Mays.”

He gave her a hard look before pushing his
sunglasses back down and heading out the door in pursuit of a
martini.

“Jane.”

She turned around to find Franco standing
quietly behind her. He had his hands by his sides and still looked
at her thoughtfully. When he spoke, she realized his usual
flirtatious tone was missing, replaced with a respectful baritone.
“
Mi sorprendi
, you, ah, surprise me tonight.”

Jane shrugged. She and the handsome Italian
trainer had never spoken much to one another aside from organizing
workouts for Sara. “I’ll pay for it, though. Won’t I?”

“You don’t know, but I have a sister. Back
in Italy. She’s, ah,
sorellina
, ah, younger. She’s a quiet
girl. But, ah, when she have enough of the big brothers, she
finally push back to us. The thing about pushing back? You have
to-a mean it.”

Jane swallowed, staring at him, then finally
nodded slowly.

He patted her on the shoulder, as she
imagined he would his little sister. “It’s, ah, good you have
spirit, Jane.
La Samara
?” His face transformed as his eyes
darkened and his mouth curved lightly in what might have almost
passed for a seductive grin had his voice not lowered to a soft
growl that was more predatory than sexy. “
Lei non sa che cosa ha
bisogno
.”

Jane cocked her head to the side in
question.

“She don’t know what she needs,” he
translated, holding Jane’s eyes unflinchingly. Then he turned his
back to her, sauntering out of the room without another word.
Unsure of what to make of such a statement, Jane filed it away and
concentrated on what he’d said just before:
You have to mean
it.

Walking back to Sara’s cottage, Jane felt
the growing change in herself and embraced it. Even knowing she was
going to go back to Sara’s to sleep on a hard couch wasn’t enough
to dim her spirits. She’d made a strong decision and she intended
to stick with it.

Jane didn’t know what in the world was
coming over her, but she could feel a shift inside of her, suddenly
reclaiming herself, refusing to be mistreated anymore. She was
worth more than the way Sara treated her.

She felt so strong and so free as she walked
farther and farther away from the hotel, she resented the heaviness
that returned when her thoughts turned to Lars. She thought of him
in the truck after she told him that she was Sara’s cousin; how his
face hadn’t changed. He had asked about her father, comforted her.
His kindness had tricked her into believing he could be different,
he could be an exception…that Lars Lindstrom was
possible
for Jane Mays.

When she looked up, she was surprised to
find herself outside the Prairie Dawn, and she couldn’t help
peeking in the window of the warm, eclectic coffee shop. She sighed
and her heart leapt with relief to see Nils and Lars sharing a
table in the back. She was sure Sara would have called him,
demanding
company
after her bath, but maybe she hadn’t been
able to track him down. Maybe he’d even ignored her call. Jane
stared at him through the glass, watched his face as he grinned up
at his older brother then rubbed the stubble on his jaw with his
calloused fingers. Or maybe he’d said no.
I’m not that
guy.

She shook her head, warding off the weakness
that sprang from hope, shutting it down, ignoring it. But, she
indulged herself for a moment, watching him unobserved through the
window for a few more quiet, precious moments before turning into
the darkness and walking back to Sara.

CHAPTER 7

An early morning knock on the cottage door
surprised Jane, and she reached for her phone on the coffee table
in front of her. 7:10 a.m. Too early for Franco, who wouldn’t be
here for another twenty minutes, or Lars, who wasn’t expected until
8:30. She could tell Sara wasn’t up yet—she would have awakened
Jane to make coffee.

Jane shook her head to scatter her dreams
and put on her glasses, swinging her jean-clad legs over the side
of the couch as she heard the knocking again. She had slept in her
clothes, forgetting to pick up a pair of pajamas from her motel
room and too tired to walk back and forth to the motel again once
she’d reached the cottage last night. She ran a hand through her
hair and padded to the door.

She was surprised, and completely delighted,
to find Maggie on the doorstep, holding a cardboard tray of coffee
cups.

“Maggie!”

“Heya, Jane. Brought coffee. That okay?”

“More than okay! A friendly face. You have
no idea…”

“GODDAMN IT, JANE!”

Maggie’s eyes flew open, and she craned her
neck in the direction of Sara’s voice. Jane cringed at Maggie,
mouthing the word “Sorry!”

“It’s fucking EARLY, Jane. I still had
fifteen more minutes to sleep, but NOOOOOOO. I am fucking awakened
by the sound of you and, and, and this
person
blabbing in
the doorway.” Sara glared at Maggie from over Jane’s shoulder,
narrowing her eyes and scowling. “And I can’t find my
goddamn
lip balm.”

“Sorry, Sara,” Jane muttered, turning to
face her cousin, who wore only a black camisole and black panties
on her perfect body.

“
SAMARA
. Don’t
fuck
with me
this morning, Jane. Who. Is.
This
?” She flicked her fingers
at Maggie like she was shoo-ing away a fly.

“This is Maggie. With coffee. Do you
want
coffee?”

Sara pursed her lips, asking in an imperial
whisper, enunciating her words carefully, “Where the
fuck
is
my Burt’s Bees Island lip balm, Jane?”

“Calm down. I’ll find it for you. Do. You.
Want. Coffee?” She enunciated her words just as carefully as Sara
had.

Sara looked at Maggie, sneering. “Do you
own
a clock? Do you
know
how early it is?”

Maggie’s eyes were so wide, Jane thought
they might pop out of her head.

Sara blew a raspberry at Maggie. “Stare
much? Which one is my latte? Did you at least get my
fucking
coffee order right, Jane?”

Maggie swallowed and tapped on the lid of
one of the four cups.

“Thank Christ.” Sara grabbed the coffee off
the tray then sauntered back to her room, booming, “BURTS FUCKING
BEES” in her wake.

Jane turned back to Maggie, whose mouth and
eyes were frozen in shock, and offered her an awkward smile. “She’s
not a…morning person. Come on in. Gimme a sec?”

Maggie shook her head. “I’ll—uh—wait outside
for you, okay?”

Jane nodded, then followed Sara, whom she
found lying on the bed watching MTV, ashing her cigarette into the
plastic top of her coffee cup and sipping with an irritated
expression.

Jane wasn’t surprised to find Sara’s room
was already a complete mess, clothes strewn everywhere, magazines
spread out on the bed, smoke drifting toward the ceiling. Jane
raised both windows, watching the smoke make a hasty escape into
the cool morning air. She opened the drawer of the bedside table,
grabbing four different lip balms, and depositing them in front of
Samara without a word. She took the empty glass tumbler next to
Sara’s bed and switched it out for the plastic cap, which she
carefully threw in the garbage.

“Franco won’t like it that you were
smoking.”

“Shut up, Jane. I’ll shower before he gets
here.”

“He’ll smell it.”

“What about ‘shut up’ wasn’t clear?”

“Do you need anything else?”

“
Do you need anything else
?” Sara
mimicked. “NO. Get out.”

Jane’s new backbone considered telling her
cousin to go screw herself, but she thought of Maggie waiting
outside and wasn’t anxious for another showdown with Sara in front
of her new, regular friend. She backed out of the room, closing the
door behind her.

Returning to the living room, she shrugged
into her jacket and found Maggie outside, leaning against the hood
of her car, the other three coffees sitting next to her. She looked
up as Jane closed the front door behind her.

“Are you okay?” Maggie looked at Jane, her
eyes wide with concern.

“Oh, yeah.” Jane nodded, wrapping her arms,
crossed, around her chest. “She’s just—”

“A roarin’, flamin’ slag.”

“Wow. Impressive. You’ve got a way with
words, Maggie.”

“I wouldn’a believed it if I hadn’a seen it
with me own eyes, Jane. So bonnie, but what a gob! Is she
always
like that?” Maggie’s accent thickened appreciably
with disdain.

Jane stood next to Maggie against the car,
taking a deep breath and sighing loudly. “Sometimes worse.
Sometimes better. She doesn’t like the cottage. She doesn’t like
waking up early. She doesn’t like me.”

“How do you handle it?”

Jane shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

“It’s abusive.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Well, that’s a bloody shame.”

“It is what it is. I don’t have any family,
Maggie. My parents died when I was little and I went to live with
Sara and her parents. My uncle—he was my dad’s twin brother—he was
always kind to me, even though I knew Sara and her mom didn’t
really want me there. Sometimes it felt like he was all I had. I’d
do anything for him. When he asked me to help her in high school, I
wrote a few essays for her. When he asked me to help with her
career, I couldn’t say no to him.”

It felt good to unburden herself to Maggie,
but in truth, she’d done a lot more than write a few essays. She’d
essentially handled her homework and Sara’s, and when Sara got
special permission to take her final exams at home so that
schoolwork wouldn’t interfere with her modeling commitments, Jane
had helped with those too.

Jane acquiesced whenever her uncle asked for
help on Sara’s behalf. It was impossible for Jane to say no to him.
When she looked into the beleaguered eyes of her dead father in her
uncle’s beloved face, she’d say yes to just about anything.

Maggie cleared her throat and Jane looked up
at her.

“It’s none o’ my business, Jane. But, maybe
it’s
time
to start sayin’ no.” Maggie picked up the tray of
coffee. “Didn’t know what you drink. Cappuccino’s there. Black
coffee here. With milk and sweet there.”

Jane picked up the black coffee and sipped,
savoring the rich, bitter warmth.

“Thanks, Maggie.”

Maggie checked her watch, grimacing. “I’ve
got somewhere to be, but I have a few minutes… Can I tell you a wee
bit about how I ended up here?”

Jane nodded, closing her eyes, enjoying the
morning sun on her face, the cool, fresh air, the soft burr in
Maggie’s voice, hopeful that MTV would prove compelling for at
least another ten minutes, or until Franco arrived.

“My Aunt Lily bought the Prairie Dawn, years
and years ago. She was me mum’s eldest sister, and she trail blazed
here to Montana in the ’70s, after readin’ about Yellowstone in a
magazine. Left her family and went on a grand adventure. Married a
month later to a man she barely knew but loved with all her heart.
Opened a tea room the month after that and decorated it with books
when the library in Big Sky closed down. Within a year, her new
husband died of exposure durin’ a winter hike, and she was left
alone. And for twenty-some-odd years she ran the Prairie Dawn.
Everyone knew her, everyone loved her, and this town became her
family, her life.

“Five years ago, she wrote to me mum. She
was sick and she knew she was dyin’, but she was too far gone to go
back to Scotland. She asked if my mum would come and take over the
café, but mum didn’t want to leave Scotland. But I did. So, I came
here to do for her until the end and inherited the cafe. This is my
home now.

“I left my family, Jane. Left them all
behind, and it doesn’t mean I don’t love them…it means I had to
make me own way, just like Lily did. I won’t tell you it wasn’t
scary. It was, at times. There are—” Maggie paused, biting her
lower lip for a moment before finishing. “There are still times it
scares me that I could lose what I’ve built here because I love it
so much. But it didn’t fall into my lap…at some points—at many
points—I had to choose it. I had to make hard choices to have the
life I wanted.”

“You’re saying I should quit my job.”

“I asked how you handle that kind of abuse.
You gave me some song and dance about family. That’s
not
family, Jane, how that she-devil just spoke to you. I dinna know
what it is, but it’s
not
family.”

Maggie was several years older than Jane,
and Jane had a sudden fantasy of what it would have been like to
have a cousin like Maggie instead of a cousin like Sara. Older,
wiser, kinder. Maggie wouldn’t have been threatened by ten-year-old
Jane because she would have been in high school then college; she
would have come home on her breaks and told Jane about her
boyfriends and professors and—