Chapter Ten
She deployed herthree-man team a little after one o’clock in the afternoon.
Envy returned in full force as she helped with the equipment checks in the ready room. Each of the packs weighed in at one hundred and twenty pounds. Hers had been no exception when she was jumping, and she’d taken a lot of pride in it.
Within ten minutes the men had suited up, climbed into their plane, and were gone. She watched the plane taxi down the runway, soar into the sky, then vanish from sight.
At least I’m still part of the team.
Although, right now, as she stood on the tarmac watching others fly off to adventure, that was small consolation. She might be part of the team, but she was no longer part of that tight inner circle. She was barely thirty years old. Was this really where she saw herself for the next thirty-five or more years? Watching others do what she’d done and taken such pride in? Work that she’d loved?
The worry was something she hadn’t considered when she’d taken the management position. She’d drafted the operations plan that was supposed to keep the team safe. What if unanticipated conditions arose and they changed it? What if they didn’t? What if she’d made a mistake and it cost them their lives?
She had a few hours to kill while the team was in flight and she could use a distraction. Not to mention a haircut. Now might be a good time to check out one of the hair salons in Grand.
A half hour later, she parked her bike on Yellowstone Drive.
The temperature had soared into the upper nineties and was fast approaching one hundred degrees. Low, angry gray clouds in the distance threatened rain and the humidity was high. She peeled off the one-piece mesh suit she used for biking on hot days and exchanged boots for her flip-flops, then stowed all her gear. Underneath the suit, she wore a pale blue tank top and white shorts. She set off on foot, her flip-flops slapping her heels and her shoulder bag banging her hip, to find the salon where she’d called ahead for an appointment.
Yellowstone Drive meandered alongside the Yellowstone River. A number of one and two-story businesses with a wide boardwalk behind them snaked the river side of the street. The sheriff’s office squatted between the Custer County courthouse and a law firm. The sign outside of the law firm proudly proclaimed itGrand Cooper and Nash. A small café a few doors down from the law firm boasted an outdoor deck that extended past the boardwalk and over the lazy river. It smelled delicious as Jazz walked past. She’d have to stop for a latte on her way back to the base. Lou’s Pub was buried between the bank and the Grand Hotel, the lone three-story building on the street.
People on the street all seemed to know her, which still took getting used to, but their familiarity was growing on her. Quite a few waved in a friendly, absentminded manner, the way they’d acknowledge a neighbor they liked even though they had nothing in common.
She found the salon across the street from the hotel and pushed through shiny glass doors right on time. A welcome blast of cool air hit her, along with the smells of hair coloring and spray. The woman at reception had a round, pleasant face, warm brown eyes, and short brown hair highlighted with platinum-blond streaks to within an inch of its life.
The warmth spread from her eyes to her cheeks. “You must be our two o’clock, Jazz. Come with me.”
She bustled around the counter and led Jazz through the open door to a room with three chairs facing brightly lit mirrors. Jazz was uneasy about entrusting her hair to an unknown stylist, but she had little choice. The cut had grown out and was becoming unruly.
She found herself seated next to a pretty woman about her own age. The other woman smiled at her in the mirror while the stylist blow-dried her long hair.
“Hi. You must be the new base manager everyone is talking about. I’m Lacey Anderson. I teach at Marion Street Grand Elementary. And this is Lydia.”
On Lacey’s far side, a gorgeous little girl with the greenest eyes Jazz had ever seen sat patiently waiting. Her fluffy, dark blond hair, already deepening to brown, had been freshly styled with a bright blue ribbon and bow. If she was Lacey’s daughter then she must take after her father, because they looked nothing alike.
Jazz’s stylist introduced herself as Simone. She was slender and pretty, but in a harsh, brittle way, as if life treated her rough—or vice versa. Her blond hair, scraped back in a high ponytail, came from a bottle. The dishwater roots gave it away. Fine lines pinched the corners of golden-brown eyes. A pale blue smock covered navy capris and a red T-shirt.
“First, let’s get you shampooed. Then we can talk about what you want to have done,” Simone said briskly.
As Jazz started to follow her to the shampoo station, the door of the shop opened and one of the finest Montana males she’d ever seen walked through it. He was tall and broad-shouldered, even bigger than Dan, with close-cut black hair and eyes of such a striking shade of green she could identify the color from across the shop. The little girl had to be his, even though except for the eyes they didn’t look much alike, either. He wore dusty jeans and boots and a long-sleeved shirt despite the heat, suggesting he’d been hard at work and was taking a break.
“Jake’s here,” the receptionist called out from the front desk, and Lacey’s face lit up in a way that left no doubt as to her feelings about that. Lydia slid out of her chair and made a dash for the door, so her feelings on the announcement were no great secret, either.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Jake said to her, crouching down to her level. “Have you seen my little girl? Lacey was supposed to bring her here for a haircut.”
Lydia’s giggles were the only other thing Jazz overheard before she was settled at a sink, but the whole scene was pretty cute. Men who knew how to communicate with children pushed the buttons of every woman of child-bearing age and beyond, and even though she had no desire for any of her own, she was no exception. She wondered what their story was.
It didn’t take her long to find out. The trio was leaving the shop as Jazz and her freshly washed, towel-wrapped hair were being hustled back to Simone’s workstation.
“It’s such a shame what happened to the McGregors,” Simone said.
Her tone suggested she was open to questions, but Jazz didn’t bite. Any tragedy that had befallen the McGregors was their business, not hers.
Simone didn’t share her opinion, however. “Jake’s parents, his sister, and his sister’s husband were killed in a plane crash in Peru last year. Now Jake and his brothers are raising his sister’s children.”
The name McGregor was ringing a bell. “I’ve met a Mara McGregor.”
The comment had seemed innocent enough on the surface, but Simone had been given an opening and Jazz was soon filled in on the whole McGregor saga. Jake and Lacey were engaged to be married. Jake had custody of Lydia and her two older brothers, Mac and Finn. Mara, a famous dancer, was married to Luke, who ran the Wagging Tongue Ranch with his brother Jake. Luke was some kind of genius who also taught college-level computer courses. Mara and Luke had a baby boy. The youngest McGregor, Zack, was married to Posey, who’d moved to Grand from Boston early last spring. She had a cute little girl named Trixie, and she and Zack were expecting a new baby together any day now. Zack, a former accountant, worked on the Running River Ranch with Weldon Scott. Rumor had it that Weldon would sell the ranch to Zack when he retired and Zack would combine that operation with the one his two brothers ran.