A SEAL's Triumph Page 30

  She surveyed the gathered group placidly and yawned again.

  “Are you having any more kids?” someone asked.

  “We’re not sure yet. With my show and Addison running the bed-and-breakfast, we’re pretty busy.”

  “Do you still cook for everyone?”

  “I’m the designated neighborhood cook, with everyone else taking turns as prep cook, but these days people do their own breakfasts except for Sunday. I do lunch and dinner on weekdays. Aside from Sunday brunch, people are on their own on weekends. We like the variety. I’m also involved with the local food bank program, making sure everyone in Chance Creek has the food they need.”

  “And you do the weddings.”

  “I help with weddings, although we also offer packages with a catering company in town,” Kai corrected. “So I’ve got a lot of irons in the fire, so to speak. Now who’s ready to try some bison sausage?”

  As his audience gathered around, pride filled Kai at how far he’d come. There were so many possibilities for what he could do next, he knew he’d never be bored, and someday Felicity would be old enough to stand at this counter and learn the basics of cooking beside him. Would she join him someday, or would she fall in love with the bed-and-breakfast? Or would she go in some other direction he couldn’t even guess at right now?

  It wouldn’t matter. She could choose anything, and he’d encourage her. Fatherhood had swept away all his fears about not being enough as a parent; his instincts had been right on the mark so far.

  He remembered a conversation he’d had with his sister the other day.

  “Now that I have my own kids,” she’d said, “I can’t fathom what Mom was thinking when she abandoned us. She must have been so far gone in her addictions. These days I’m sadder for her than for us.”

  “I know what you mean.” He’d been holding Felicity and had settled her carefully in his arms. Nothing could persuade him to take a chance on her health and safety, but he knew enough of the world these days not to get too bogged down in judgments. “I wish it could have been different.”

  “Me, too, but I’m glad about where we ended up.”

  Kai had agreed with her. “You’re happy?” he’d checked just to be sure.

  “Very. You?”

  “Over the moon.”

  Kai focused on the chatter of his visitors and noticed Felicity was fully awake now, reaching out to touch the hair of a woman who was bending over to select another tidbit of sausage.

  He redirected the baby’s hand. “Want to try?” He pulled off a tiny chunk of sausage and put it carefully in her grip. She transferred it to her mouth, chewed with her few teeth and swallowed.

  “Yummy?” he prompted.

  “Mmm!” she replied heartily and reached for more.

  “She’s going to fit right in here, isn’t she?” a man said.

  “That she is.”

  Addison hurried up the hillside, the skirts of her Regency gown swishing around her ankles, and entered the manor through the back door that led to the kitchen. All the women were dressed up today.

  “I’m back,” she told Avery, who was replenishing drinks and snacks on a tray.

  “I’ll just put this in the ballroom,” Avery told her. “Don’t worry, there have been plenty of us to head up the tours while you were gone. All the newcomers love the chance to show people around.”

  Avery was right; there were always women from the newer Base Camp settlements angling to get a turn at working in the manor. They were running Alice Reed ragged keeping up with requests for Regency attire, too. Addison knew Alice had begun to outsource much of the work to Caitlyn Warren at the bridal shop, who appreciated the extra income.

  Today they were taking shifts, three or four at a time, to walk visitors through the manor and answer questions about vacation packages and other events held here.

  “We’ve given out so many brochures,” Avery said when she came back with another empty tray, “and so many snacks,” she added with a laugh. “The hardest part is keeping people moving. By the time they make it up here they’ve seen the rest of Base Camp and they’re tired out. They keep sitting on the furniture and lagging behind.”

  Addison chuckled.

  “Heard from Felicity senior recently?” Avery smiled impishly at the nickname she’d given Addison’s sister once baby Felicity made her way into the world.

  “She’s coming here for Christmas. I can’t wait to see her. She and Evan are so happy in Rome.”

  “She’s still modeling?”

  “A little, but she’s started her own modeling company on the side, and I think she’s getting ready to transition to being behind the scenes.”

  “Smart. What about your mom? How is she handling Felicity staying away for so long?”

  “Better than I thought.” Addison worked to fill the tray Avery had brought back with her. “She’s been volunteering with a group that helps low-income women with finding jobs. She works with them on their interview skills. She’s a natural.”

  Avery laughed. “From everything you’ve told me, I can imagine.”

  “I can imagine, too.” Addison copied her mother’s tone. “Stand up straight. Shoulders back. Chin up! You are proud. You are strong. You are going to win!”

  “I wonder if it works?”

  “Mom claims it does. She’s very proud of ‘her new hires,’ as she calls them.”

  “Good for her for finding an outlet for her energy. Speaking of which, I’d better get to the studio.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll hold down the fort here.”

  When Avery was gone, Addison carried the tray to the ballroom but nearly dropped it when she saw how many people were clustered around the food. No wonder they kept having to restock so often. With all the offerings down in the main cluster of buildings at Base Camp, she’d wondered if serving snacks here was even necessary, but she’d long since learned to always over-deliver. Today that was paying off.

  “Are you the one to speak to about booking a wedding? It looks like my daughter is going to get engaged soon, and I know she’d love to hold her reception here,” a woman said.

  Addison handed her a brochure and went over the various packages they offered.

  “I was hoping to do a sisters’ reunion here sometime this winter,” an older woman said. “But I’m afraid nothing will be in our price range.”

  “We have options for every budget,” Addison said smoothly. They’d worked hard to make sure they kept things affordable when the show made their bed-and-breakfast a hit last year. They wanted locals to feel they had access to Base Camp.

  She continued answering questions and handing out brochures and cards.

  “You’re a natural at this,” one of the newer members of Base Camp said, bringing a tour to the ballroom, where they fell on the refreshments with vigor.

  “Thanks.” Addison always felt she’d finally found the place where she belonged. Thank goodness for her sister and her crazy ideas.

  She didn’t miss New York City at all. Couldn’t care less about living in a penthouse.

  Wanted nothing more than to stay right here with the people she loved.

  “Are you sure I couldn’t persuade you to come to Houston for six months?” a tall man in a cowboy hat said. “You’re just the man to give my house all the finishing touches it needs.”

  “Sorry,” Curtis told him. “There’s too much for me to do right here.”

  “I’d pay you plenty for your time.”

  “No can do,” Curtis told him. “I’m sure there’s someone in your neck of the woods who’d be happy for the work, though.”

  “I hope so,” the man said disgruntledly.

  As he wandered off, Curtis stepped away from the booth he’d been manning and took a long swig of water. It was hot, and the open house had been going on for hours. He was ready for a break.

  “Can you handle things for a minute?” he asked Clay.

  Clay waved him off. “I’m fine.”

  Cur
tis whistled for Daisy and made his way past the bunkhouse toward the pastures where he knew he’d find Hope. The man in the cowboy hat wasn’t the only one who’d tried to hire him, but the truth was he had projects booked for months, on and off the ranch. Although he’d added special finishing touches to all the tiny houses he’d built for the original members of Base Camp, there were far too many being built for him to do so for all of them. Their team had expanded, and while every tiny house was finished well, if someone wanted his personal work, they had to hire him like anyone else.

  He’d also taken on several commissions in town and on the surrounding ranches. He didn’t want to book anything more until he’d made a dent in his current commitments.

  He was proud of everything he was doing and for his skills to be so recognized. He got inquiries from all around the world now that people had seen examples of his work on the show. A gallery had gotten in touch recently, wanting to add some of his carved wooden pieces to a collection they were going to show next year. He’d never expected that, but their theme was the crossroads of art and architecture, which was definitely his niche.

  As he approached the closest pasture, he caught sight of Hope standing a little to one side while Walker talked about bison herd management and the grazing patterns they were using to a group that had gathered to listen. Everyone was focused on the tall Native American man, which was unfortunate, because they were missing what Hope was surreptitiously doing: waiting until one of the bison ambled closer and closer, grazing contentedly, until it lifted its face to gaze at the crowd and Hope reached out and stroked its nose.

  The bison blew out a huff of breath and ambled off again. Curtis walked up to her, shaking his head.

  “You’ll be sorry the day one of them bites off your hand.”

  “It’s only Charlie I do that to. It’s a game we play.” She bent down and patted Daisy’s head.

  “Weren’t you going to be a park ranger at Yellowstone? Park rangers know better than to pet bison. Besides, how do you know which one is Charlie?”

  “I would have made a lousy park ranger,” she admitted, straightening again. Daisy flopped down at their feet. “But I love studying bison, and for your information, every one of them looks different. Just ask Avery. Do you think I could prove they have a sense of humor?”

  “Nope.”

  She laughed. “You’re probably right, but I swear that one does.”

  “I thought you were studying the effects of cropping patterns on the health of the pasture.”

  “I am. I’m getting together with Evan Mortimer and Jake Matheson to compare notes next week and see where we are in the study. If our suppositions match the data at all.”

  “I’m glad you found some partners to work with.” Curtis tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears. He still had to take a breath and let his jealousy settle when Hope talked about other men. He realized that some part of him might never truly get over being left at the altar, but he trusted Hope, and the jealousy passed in moments. They saw each other throughout the day, stole moments alone between their working hours, and every night with her was heaven—

  Even those early days when their son was first born. Zeke Matthew Lloyd had taken several months to figure out the difference between daytime and nighttime, but Curtis treasured every moment with him. He was a serious baby, who watched everything around him with a slightly offended tilt to his eyebrows. Hope told him he’d grow out of it, but Curtis thought he understood.

  “The world is a weird place,” he told his baby when Hope wasn’t around, “but it’s not so bad. You’ll see.”

  As one of the Contingent, Zeke was just over eight months old, pulling himself up to standing and thinking about taking his first steps…. but not taking them yet.

  Hope was already talking about wanting a girl, but Curtis wasn’t sure if he was ready to think about that. They had their hands full already.

  “The second baby is three times as hard as the first,” his mother had told him last week. “Oddly, the third one is no trouble at all.”

  Curtis wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  “Where’s Zeke?”

  “At Savannah’s. She’s watching a few of the kids for the last couple of hours so everyone can help with our visitors.

  “Catch up with you at dinner?” She reached up for a kiss, and he met her halfway.

  “Can’t wait.”

  “What time is the first seating at the manor again?” Hope asked Riley as she approached the bunkhouse. “I want to stop and check on Zeke before I head up there.” They were offering people two different types of dining experiences: a rustic picnic near the bunkhouse and a formal sit-down dinner at the manor house. She and many of the other women, dressed in their Regency gowns, would help at the manor.

  “Where’s your planner?” Riley joked. “Just kidding. It’s in forty-five minutes, so join us as fast as you can. I’m headed there now.”

  “Be there in a minute.” Hope hurried to Savannah’s tiny house, but Raina, her best friend and the reason she was here at Base Camp to begin with, found her first.

  “There you are! I held off bothering you while you were demonstrating the bison, but I couldn’t keep away any longer. I’m so excited I get to wear a gown and help tonight.”

  Raina was almost an honorary member of Base Camp, she and her husband, Ben, came over so often from Bozeman to visit.

  “I need to see if Zeke is okay.”

  Raina followed her happily and made sure to get her share of cuddles from Zeke before they left for the manor.

  “Curtis should be here soon to pick up Zeke,” Hope told Savannah.

  “As soon as he does, I’ll join you all,” Savannah assured them.

  They met with several other female residents of Base Camp as they walked to the manor, their gowns a bouquet of colors as they clustered together to get through the back door into the kitchen.

  “All right, everyone,” Addison said. “We’re not taking orders, just bringing dishes to the tables for people to share around, as if they were with their families. Your job is to keep those dishes replenished, refill drinks and keep everyone happy. Got it? There’ll be a demonstration dance at eight.”

  That was to cap off the evening. Then everyone would go home. Hope knew that dance would result in a flurry of calls tomorrow for people wanting to learn Regency dancing and spend a weekend at the bed-and-breakfast. The beauty of the Regency dances hooked everyone.

  The next two hours were so busy she barely got a chance to breathe. She and the other women took turns eating a bite in the kitchen when they could, so no one fainted with hunger, then kept going. At the end of the meal, they cleared the tables.

  A space was left at the center of the large room. When the men of Base Camp filed in, so did a quartet of classical musicians, who began to tune their instruments. Curtis found her.

  “Where’s Zeke?” she asked.

  “With Leslie and Byron in the front room. Don’t worry; all the children are being well cared for. Daisy’s there, too.”

  “Good.” Byron and Leslie had become fixtures in their community. Byron worked on a variety of projects, and Hope had no doubt he’d go far in the film industry. Leslie might talk a lot, but she was an organizational wizard and was helping to take their food production to great heights.

  “I remember the first time we did this,” he said as he led her to their positions for the first dance.

  “It’s romantic every time. I never dreamed I’d find a man who’d actually dance with me.”

  “I never dreamed I’d find a woman who’d want to keep dancing with me.”

  “Well, I do. And that’s not going to stop.”

  The music started, and they executed the first few steps of the complicated dance. Hope’s heart swelled as Curtis’s gaze lingered on hers, and she knew he was thinking about what they’d get up to later tonight, when everyone had gone home and Zeke was asleep.

  She thought about it, too, letting her d
esire show in her eyes.

  “We could duck out right now,” he said.

  “No, we couldn’t. Be patient.” But she had to smile.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Don’t look now, but I think your father is flirting with Bev Regis,” Eve said to Anders as he led her through the steps of the dance.

  Anders scanned the crowd as he continued in a circle. He’d done these Regency dances so many times now he could execute the steps in his sleep. There was his father near the door talking to a woman who’d joined the community just a few months ago. Bev was in her late forties, a striking woman with a sweep of dark hair, and his father… his father was actually smiling while they chatted.

  Johannes looked ten years younger than he had two years ago when he’d been hassling Anders to come home and take over the family oil business. The last two years had changed a lot of things for them. It wasn’t the work of a day to transition Hansen Oil to Hansen Energy. In truth, the final transition plan would take nearly a decade to fully enact. Still, Anders was optimistic that they had arranged things in a way to make that transition smooth, without letting down their employees or shareholders, and that was replicable for other companies.

  He had fielded some uncomfortable questions today from people on both sides of the energy spectrum. One man who worked the oil fields in northeast Montana was downright rude, but on the whole, people seemed interested, and a number of them had asked for more information on ways to make the transition to renewables.

  He and his father had found a new CEO for Hansen Energy who shared their vision, which made it possible for Johannes to step back and for Anders to work more as a consultant than full-time on-site, which he appreciated, because he loved it here and didn’t want to leave his wife or daughter. Isabel Claire Hansen was the apple of his eye. The youngest of the Contingent at just seven and a half months, she seemed determined not to be left behind by the other babies. She was already standing steadier than some of the older ones, and she’d taken her first step yesterday.