The Return Of David Mckay

“Of course it is, Addy,” Gran answered for David. “I think I’m all set, so we can just be on our way.” She patted David’s hand. “Now give me a kiss, dear, and scoot back to Hollywood. I promise to call you as soon as I return.”

“Gran—”

His grandmother clasped her hands to her face. “Oh, dear, I nearly forgot Herbert. Wouldn’t that have been silly?”

She hurried to the mantel, then returned with the ornate box clutched tightly against her breast. In no time, Grampa Herb’s ashes were efficiently stowed in the same zippered compartment as Gran’s toiletries and sketchbook.

David was aware of Addy waiting patiently with a casual remoteness. The sunlight pouring in the front window gave her features a pretty glow, and the fact that he’d noticed at all annoyed him even further.

When his grandmother reached out to grab the handle of the carpetbag, he let his larger hand settle over hers. “Gran—”

She straightened, her face flushed with determined irritation. Gran had a will no ax could break, and her tolerance was at an end. “David, I mean it now. There’s nothing left to say.”

There was a moment’s pause in the struggle between them, like two combatants testing their weapons. Right now his armor felt pitifully inadequate. “I only have one thing to say,” he tossed out.

Gran sighed wearily. “What’s that, dear?”

“I’m going with you.”

“What?” Both women spoke at once.

“I’m going on this trip with you.”

Gran shook her head. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not? You said you don’t leave until tomorrow morning. I assume you’re staying up at Lightning River Lodge tonight. I’ll throw some things together and meet you up there.”

“Sorry,” Addy said quickly. “We’re booked solid.”

Her response came too quickly for him to believe it. Besides, he wasn’t going to let that weak attempt to outmaneuver him get in the way. He shrugged. “Then I’ll stay here tonight and come up tomorrow.”

“But what about your work?” his grandmother asked. “Don’t you have—I don’t know—wheeling and dealing to do? Worlds to conquer?”

“World conquering is slated for next month. In the meantime, I have enough capable people on my staff to take care of things while I’m away.” He turned toward Addy. “Can you provide an extra horse or do I have to bring my own?”

He knew by the shifting of her eyes that she wasn’t pleased, but she managed to answer in a clear, indifferent tone. “I can fix you up with a mount and pack mule. Do you still know one end of a horse from the other?”

“Mount from the left. Giddyap. Whoa.” He shrugged. “What more do I need to remember?”

“I won’t have one of our animals ruined just so you can win this argument.”

Now that the decision was made, David was beginning to warm to the idea. He grinned. “I’m kidding. Just like riding a bike. You don’t forget. And didn’t we ride all the time when I lived here before?”

He knew instantly those words were a mistake. Any reminder of their shared past would be sticky.

As though sensing that the sudden silence needed to be broken, his grandmother spoke up. “Dearest, it would please me immensely to have you come along, but you know how you get….”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you like things…tidy. And you’re always complaining about hotels that don’t have decent room service or a health spa where you can work out. And don’t forget that unfortunate garter snake incident.”

“For God’s sake, Gran,” David said in a tone full of stung pride. “I was just a kid. And I think I’m capable of putting up with a few inconveniences. Remember Sahara Sunset last year? We filmed for three straight months in the desert, and I did just fine.”

Addy crossed her arms over her breasts and narrowed her eyes at him. “You were on the movie set for three straight months?”

She probably knew damned well it wasn’t true. Producers didn’t have to hand-hold every production they oversaw, and David had been lucky to do most of the work on that film long-distance. Come to think of it, maybe that was why the thing hadn’t had big box-office success. But that was beside the point.

He gave Addy a sharpened look. “I know how to handle myself. Do you have any legitimate objections to my going?”

“You mean other than the obvious one? That we really don’t…get along?”

Boy, talk about an understatement, he thought. But what he said was, “Yeah. Besides that.”

She shrugged. “Not if you can keep up. I’m not a babysitter.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Great. I can always make use of someone to pound tent stakes and carry water.”

He realized that he’d missed her habit of coming back at him with mockery and sarcasm. Addy had always been able to give as good as she got. The next two weeks spent in her company might be very irritating…but strangely stimulating.

She rifled through a small stack of papers that poked haphazardly out of the notebook she carried, then handed him a brochure and a supply list. “Think you can pull it together on such short notice and find your way to the lodge? I want to leave at sunup.”

“No problem. I’ll be there.”

Seeming resigned to the idea, she hefted one of his grandmother’s bags and left him to get everything else. While his grandmother locked up the house, the two of them settled the luggage into the back of the lodge van.

“Oh,” Addy remarked as though she’d just remembered something. She slammed the vehicle’s tailgate, then moved closer to him so that her words wouldn’t carry. “Two things I think we should get clear between us right up front.”

He waited.

Her dark eyes had such a fearless, challenging look in them, a look he vividly remembered. How little she’d changed over the years. “This all might be an amusing lark to you, but this kind of trip is serious business. That means out there, what I say goes.”

“You’re the trail boss, huh?”

“That’s right,” she agreed. “Fail to pull your own weight or treat me like some flunky out of your corporate steno pool, and I’ll have you hitchhiking back to the ranch in thirty seconds flat.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Get the picture?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

With that, she started to walk away. David stood back from the vehicle. He supposed he ought to be annoyed. But, oddly enough, he wasn’t. Instead his heart was beating with newfound interest. He felt as though he had drunk some of the strong, glowing sunshine all around him.

“Addy,” he called.

She turned to look at him, waiting.

“You said two things. What’s the second one?”