The Husband Show

“Who’s that with Sam?”

Winter knew the answer, even if she didn’t know the woman who asked the question. That’s his brother, who he hasn’t seen in years. And that’s his daughter, who he didn’t know existed. In a place like this, the information would spread quickly.

She’d heard small towns were like that. Gossipy.

Well, they could gossip all they liked. Winter lifted her chin and stared back at two older girls who eyed her curiously. She gave them her best haughty Lady Mary of Downton look, but they didn’t seem impressed.

Winter hurried to keep up with Jake. For all she knew, he could forget about her and disappear into the crowd, leaving her to fend for herself.

Not that she couldn’t do exactly that, but she wasn’t in the mood to find out how to survive by herself in the Wild Wild West.

Not yet, anyway.

The inside of the tent was decorated with little white lights, long tables and benches. The tables were covered with yellow-checked fabric and glass jars filled with white-and-yellow daisies. About a third of the tables held food in casserole dishes or plastic bowls. There was food everywhere, with more coming in all the time. Three young cowboys were busy opening champagne bottles in the corner closest to the door. Giggling girls filled champagne flutes and set them carefully on large silver trays.

Winter sucked in her breath. It was truly lovely and not at all what she had expected. She’d pictured more hay bales and a bunch of picnic tables.

She couldn’t wait to meet the bride and groom now that she no longer thought she and Jake would be kicked out. Being with an uncle made everything okay.

“Hey!” Sam waved to a herd of black-haired boys who were gathered near an old lady. She was round and sharp-eyed, though. Winter assumed she was a grandmother, because she’d met a few of those and they weren’t easily fooled. Robbie’s grandmother had called his mother a twit and his father a rotter, much to Robbie’s joy.

“Money doesn’t buy class,” she’d cluck. Robbie’s grandmother had not been impressed with his parents or with his parents’ piles of money, obviously, no matter how much there was of it.

Winter stayed close to Jake as they crossed to the other side of the tent. He was the only person she’d known longer than fifteen minutes.

“Marie,” Sam said, grinning. “I’d like you to meet my brother, Jake, and his daughter, Winter. Jake and Winter, please meet my future mother-in-law, Marie Swallow.”

To Winter’s surprise, she was enveloped in a hug. As was Jake.

“Welcome to the family,” the woman said. “And here are the boys.” She pointed to each one from tallest to shortest. “Davey, Matty and Tony. My grandsons.”

Winter eyed them. The tallest stared back. He didn’t look much older than eight or nine. The middle one had cake frosting in his hair. The little one leaned sleepily against his grandmother’s side. They were all dark-haired and dark-eyed. Despite wearing dark pants and white shirts, they looked as if they’d get into trouble given a little freedom.

Not exactly an impressive group of cousins. But then again, she reminded herself, she had no experience and had no expectations. For all she knew, everyone had disappointing cousins.

And they didn’t seem too thrilled with her, either, except for the tallest boy, who appeared somewhat fascinated. As if he’d seen a space alien.

Jake shook hands with all three boys, which seemed to impress them. She wondered where their father was, then decided it didn’t matter. Everyone was divorced; sometimes their parents stuck around and sometimes they didn’t. Robbie’s parents were still married, but he’d said there were dreadful rows and his father had a girlfriend in Chelsea.

“So,” Mrs. Swallow said. “Are you a fisherman, too?”

“No.” Jake chuckled. “I’m a musician.”

“Ah,” she said. “Another Hove who can’t stay in one place.”

“Up until now, no,” Jake answered, still chuckling a little. “I travel a lot, though. I guess it does run in the family.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Family’s important.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said. “And I’m glad to meet yours.”

Mrs. Swallow looked pleased.

“Your Uncle Jake has come to visit,” Uncle Sam told the boys. “We’ll have to show him around.”

“We could ride horses,” the middle boy suggested. “Owen has ’em.”

“Not now, he doesn’t,” his older brother said. “They’re not back yet.”

“Where did they go?” She hadn’t intended to speak, but Winter couldn’t help herself. She’d always wanted to ride a horse, but every time she’d suggested a summer riding camp her mother had shuddered and muttered, “Broken bones, no way.”

And that had been the end of that.

“To Les’s ranch,” the boy explained. “They usually live there, but when they come back here we can go riding.”

Well, hallelujah. Something to look forward to. Winter glanced up at Jake to see if he was going to object, but instead he cupped her shoulder and said how that sounded like fun and he’d have to meet Owen and talk to him about it.

“Let’s go find Owen, then,” Uncle Sam said. “Want me to take the boys?”

Mrs. Swallow shook her head. “Not right now. The food’s coming and we’ll be eating as soon as the bride and groom say the word. I’ll save room for you here at our table. Tell Lucia everything is ready out here.”

Still stunned about the possibility of riding horses, Winter let herself be led away from the Swallow family and back toward the opened flap door of the tent. She didn’t know how long they’d been here, but they’d done a lot of wandering around the place.

Teenagers carrying large containers of food blocked their way out. It all smelled really good. Better even than the make-it-yourself waffles at the Super 8 this morning.

Jake put his arm around her shoulder and guided her past the staff and into the fresh air. The picnic tables were beginning to fill up now, as wedding guests gathered around plates of appetizers and big vats of lemonade and iced tea. A group of little girls chased each other across the lawn while larger boys, Winter’s age, huddled together and looked self-conscious. Was the whole town here?

“The whole town is here,” her uncle explained, unknowingly answering her question. “You’re going to meet a lot of people.”

“Will they square-dance?”

Sam shot her a curious look. “Why? Do you?”

“No, but I’ve heard about it. And we are out West.”

“I hate to disappoint you,” he said, “but I don’t think there’s going to be square dancing today. Maybe a two-step. There might be a few callers in Billings, but I’ve never heard of square dancing here in Willing.”

“Callers?”

“The people who call out the directions for square dancing. Callers. It’s a lost art, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh.” She would have to Google that.

“My daughter has spent her life in France and London,” Jake explained. “This is all new to her.”

“Well, it was all new to me, too, last December. I’d never been to Montana before, either.” Her uncle smiled. “I hope you’ll stay awhile so we can get to know one another.”

“Well,” Winter said, “that would be interesting, considering that you must have very exotic stories about the jungle. And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”