Marilyn plucked the box from her father’s grasp and set it up on top of a cabinet by the bread box. “This is for tomorrow. Little girls who had cupcakes for lunch don’t need to have coffee cake, too.”
“Well, I didn’t have any cupcakes for lunch.” Grandpa adopted an oversize version of Maddie’s pout.
“We had peanut butter and jelly, too,” Margie argued. Marilyn was glad the new young owner of the bakery Ruth used to own had offered to toss in a pair of PB&J sandwiches “on the house” to go along with Wyatt’s gift of cupcakes. It kept lunch from being a total nutrition loss. She’d felt compelled to buy the coffee cake just to be nice in return.
“All in all, sounds like a pretty good afternoon for a failed carousel trip,” Dad declared.
“Mr. Wyatt’s gonna call Mama when it’s fixed so we can get the first ride,” Maddie announced.
Mom’s eyebrow went up. “Is he, now? Got your phone number, did he?”
“No, he did not.” When the girls looked as if this might dampen their chances for the first post-repair ride, Marilyn added, “He knows we’re staying with you, so if he wants to make good on his offer, he can.”
That brought an alarmed look from Maddie. “Won’t he?”
Don’t, Marilyn warned Mom with her eyes. Let them just think of Wyatt as the nice man who’s fixing the carousel. They don’t need to know we both know he won’t keep that promise.
Dad stepped in. “Well, if he doesn’t, I’ll take you there myself the second I hear it’s up and running. After all, it’s been too long since I’ve been on a porcupine.”
Margie’s eye went wide. “I forgot about the porcupine!”
“Best carousel porcupine ever,” Dad said. After a second, he shrugged and added, “Maybe the only carousel porcupine ever.” He looked at Marilyn. “You favored the ostrich, didn’t you, sweetheart?”
“Mr. Wyatt guessed wrong on all of ours,” Margie pronounced. “I don’t think he’s very good at it, even though he said he was.”
“Imagine that,” Mom muttered under her breath as she finished a row and turned her work.
“Why don’t you run upstairs and get your crayons so you can get started on those coloring books we bought at Redding’s?” Buying a toy at the town general store after a ride on the carousel was one of the fixtures of Marilyn’s childhood. It felt good to at least keep that part of their outing. And besides, it was next to the Wander Chamber of Commerce, where she’d dropped off her resume. She couldn’t sit around and play grieving widow forever.
Mom set down her knitting as the girls barreled past her toward the stairs. “How’d it go with Gail?”
Gail from the Chamber of Commerce had been kind and polite, but how much staff did a small-town organization need? Marilyn couldn’t honestly say if the woman had taken her resume out of genuine interest or as a favor to her mother. Did it really matter which? “She said she’d look at it and keep an ear open for possibilities.”
“Sounds promising,” Dad said.
“Sure,” Marilyn agreed, even though she didn’t. She opted to change the subject. “So what’s the story with Wyatt Walker off his family’s ranch?”
“Foolish boy,” Mom said, rising to put the kettle on for tea. Marilyn found Wyatt a bit long in the tooth—and long on masculine looks—to be called a boy. The way Mom said it, you’d think Wyatt had just been caught smoking outside the high school gym. Which, come to think of it, he had been. Multiple times.
“Never could quite figure out why he’d do that,” Dad said. “That ranch is Hank’s pride and joy.”
“But Chaz runs it now, though, right?” Chaz Walker was Wyatt’s stepbrother. His wife was the woman who owned the bakery now. She’d liked Yvonne instantly, even felt as if she could be friends with the woman.
Dad got a trio of mugs down from the cupboard, ignoring mom’s tsk as he opened the coffee cake, clearly not intending to save it for tomorrow. “I’m not so sure Hank ever really got over Wyatt just walking away from Wander Canyon Ranch like that. I’m not even sure what he does now.”
Marilyn got out the sugar. “He told me he’s helping Manny Stewart with his garage.”
“A garage?” Mom balked. “When you could have all that land?”
Not really my thing. That’s how Wyatt had put it, hadn’t he? Rather casual for a stunning rejection of the family estate. There was a story there. “Maybe not everyone takes to ranching.”
“Maybe not everyone takes to hard work.” Mom’s words had sharp, judgmental edges.
A man who volunteered to fix a complicated old carousel didn’t strike Marilyn as being allergic to hard work. Then again, her marriage had proved how wrong she could be about men, hadn’t it?
Wyatt looked up from draining a Jeep’s brake fluid to see a shapely silhouette standing in the garage bay door. Not a bad way to start a Friday. He put down the bucket and wrench he’d been holding and picked up his charm. “Well, hello there.”
“Hi. My car needs an oil change.” She walked into the garage and Wyatt realized that silhouette belonged to Marilyn Sofitel. “I figured showing up here was the least I could do after you bought my daughters cupcakes yesterday.”
Chaz never believed that Wyatt’s cupcake tab at Yvonne’s was effective marketing. It was always fun to prove Chaz wrong. “Cute kids. I felt bad disappointing them.” Given how long it was taking to fix the carousel, this wasn’t turning out to be the easy way to score points with the town fathers he’d planned. Not that delayed parts coming from Albany was his fault, but he wasn’t sure folks would see it that way. People were always quick to judge, but he’d learned to slough it off just as fast.
“Oh, to hear them talk, they came out ahead. Cupcakes go a long way with those two. But I warn you, they plan on holding you to that first ride. They talked about it all the way home.”
“I’ll try to make it happen soon.” Yvonne had told him about Marilyn’s visit with the twin girls. She’d given him a good ribbing about how taken the little girls had been with “the Carousel Man.”
Wyatt had enjoyed many reputations in his day—still did—but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to be known as “the Carousel Man.” That title belonged to the slightly kooky old guy who’d built the carousel. When he’d died a month ago, a carousel committee had been formed. But when the first malfunction happened, Chaz convinced Wyatt to help. It was supposed to be a temporary thing. Stopgap Carousel Man. Certainly not Wander Canyon’s new purveyor of childhood joy. Even for cuties like Maddie and Margie. Or their mother.
“So.” He motioned toward the sensible upscale vehicle sitting just outside his garage. “Oil change?”
She gave the car a dubious look and produced a small notebook out of her handbag. “According to this, at least. I’m just learning how to handle stuff like this. Landon was—” she searched for the right word “—particular about cars.” It fell just short of a compliment, a telling mixture of awkwardness and resentment.
“It’s not a bad thing to learn how to be particular. I’d much rather service a car that’s been well looked after than one that’s been ignored.” He flashed her a smile. “Although, I admit, I make more money on the ignored kind.”
She