THIRTY
Madeline was appalled and ashamed, absolutely ashamed.
She never dreamed Stephen would fly to Colorado. She never imagined in her wildest thoughts that he would come out to see the ranch with the realtor, bringing a buyer along. She had believed these men would give her information—only information—that she could share with Libby and Emma and Luke.
She had completely underestimated Stephen. Completely.
“What are you doing here?” she’d demanded when she’d realized what was happening. “Why are you here?”
“I came to help,” he’d said cheerfully, as if Madeline would be happy about such a blindsiding. “Turns out, a case I’m working on has some documents in Aspen I needed to look at, and I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone?”
Why not just kill her? He couldn’t have done a better job of it, showing up like this, with these men. Luke… Luke… he’d looked at her with such disgust. And worse, as if he’d been expecting it. Libby, dear God, Libby—she looked so confused, so hurt.
“Mr. Taranaku would like to have a look around, Madeline,” the broker said. “Would you mind giving him a quick tour?”
“Me?” she asked, incredulous.
Chip had looked about, and said, “I don’t see anyone else to do it. Is it a problem?”
“Of course not,” Stephen had said blithely. “I’d like to see it too.” He spoke as if he and she were buddies, as if it was a perfectly sane thing for him to do, to fly out here to have a look around a ranch she’d inherited.
Madeline made quick work of the tour, showing him the house, the bunkhouse, and the barn. She did not feel obliged to show him the paths leading up to Mrs. Kendrick’s garden, or anything else.
Nevertheless, Mr. Taranaku seemed quite interested and asked if there were more events lined up. “Weddings? Business retreats?”
She remembered Libby saying there’d been some interest in a wedding, but she said only, “You should contact Jackson Crane about that. In the meantime, we have so much going on, I am going to have to excuse myself.”
“Of course,” Chip said. “We’ve seen enough for now. Am I right, Mr. Taranaku?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s quite impressive. I think this is exactly the sort of property my group is looking to find.”
Chip Danziger gave Madeline a wink as he escorted his client back to his car. Madeline turned a murderous look to Stephen.
He grinned proudly. “See? Just a matter of knowing the right people. Looks to me like you’re going to get a nice nest egg out of this.”
Madeline didn’t want a nest egg. She wanted no part of this. She could have kicked herself for ever having listened to Stephen in the first place.
“I’m at the Grizzly Lodge,” Stephen said when it came time for them to go. “Can I see you tonight?”
Madeline thought of Luke, and his promise that he would find a place for them to be together, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. She wanted that, more than anything. But first, she had some business that she needed to finish once and for all. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll come when we are through here.”
Stephen smiled happily. “Okay. See you later.” He walked back to the cars and got in.
Madeline watched the two Mercedes drive down the road, then went in search of Luke and Libby.
They were not in the house. Nor were they in the big circus tent—at least she didn’t think so, but there were so many people coming and going, she couldn’t be sure. She walked over to the bunkhouse, but there were only women inside, cooking up pots of beans and brisket on two enormous pits on the patio just outside.
Where was Luke?
His mother’s garden. She hurried up the path, the dogs falling in behind her.
But Luke wasn’t in the garden. Nor was Libby anywhere to be seen. The garage, then. Madeline walked down to the garage, looking for the Bronco, some sign of him. Just as she reached it, Ernest strolled out, carrying a toolbox. “Hey!” she said brightly. “Have you seen Luke?”
“He left,” Ernest said.
“He left?” Madeline stared at him. “When? Why?”
“Don’t know why, but he left a half hour ago,” Ernest said. “Don’t mean to rush off, but we’ve got a broken table up under the big tent.” He walked on, leaving Madeline to stand in the garage, staring out over the meadow.
Of course he’d left. Why would she expect any different? She had done this to herself. Luke was right—she may not have known those men were coming, but she had put the wheels in motion. If he’d done this to her, she would have left, too.
This hurt worse than anything she had ever felt in her life. She couldn’t bear to think of how she’d hurt him; it threatened to bury her. Go to him. For once in her blessed life, she would go to him and lay the truth out to him. For once in her life, she would not be afraid to open herself up, because she could not risk losing the best thing that had ever happened to her.
She turned around—and gasped when she saw Libby standing there, glaring at her. “Libby,” she said breathlessly. “I was looking for you.”
Libby folded her arms over her middle. “Is it true?” she quietly demanded. “Did you just go off and find someone to buy the ranch without talking to me or Emma?”
“No! I mean, not exactly. I told you I was going to find out how much the ranch was worth. It just so happened the broker had a client who was looking for a place to build a new resort. So he brought him.”
Libby’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “Are you seriously trying to sell Homecoming Ranch and make it into another damn ski resort?”
“No, not me. The broker mentioned it—”
“How could you?” Libby said, her voice trembling with rage. “God, I was stupid enough to believe that you and I had started to bond! But you just walked right over me. You’ve been walking over me since the day you showed up here.”
Madeline’s heart constricted painfully.
“Admit it!” Libby demanded. “You think you are better than this ranch. You think you deserve some special compensation because you didn’t know Dad and you think you know what is best for everyone.”
“I don’t think that. Libby, please listen—”
“What, so now you want to talk? You know what the worst thing is, Madeline? The worst thing is that you don’t give a damn what anyone else wants. All you care about is yourself, and all you want is the money out of this place so you can go back to Orlando! You don’t really care that people like me need this place, and people like Luke need this place. I know you don’t give a damn about me, but I really thought you cared about him.”
Those words stunned Madeline. “I do care! I told you I was going to look into things! All I wanted was information!”
“That is not all you’ve wanted—you’ve wanted out from day one. And I guess you’ve found a way to do it without regard for me and Emma or Luke.”
Madeline had nothing to say to that; it was true, all true. She’d been so concerned about protecting herself and keeping a lid on her anxiety that she’d hurt everyone else involved. “Libby, please let me explain.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Libby snapped. “Go back to Orlando and live your life, Madeline. No one cares. No one. Honestly? No one even wants you here.” She whirled around and flounced away, her strides long and hard, carrying her as fast and as far from Madeline as she could take herself.
Madeline stared after Libby, but she couldn’t move. She’d lost her breath. She finally put her hands on her knees and bent over as a vise of panic closed in around her throat, forcing the air from her lungs. She’d made a huge mess. Huge. And she’d just ruined the one chance she had in this life of having a sister. Libby would never trust her now. Madeline didn’t deserve her trust.
She straightened up with a deep breath, and noticed several Johnsons standing there, watching her. “Is everything all right?” one of the women said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Madeline said. “Just a little sisterly spat.” She smiled at the ladies and made herself move, one foot before the other. She had to fix things. She didn’t know how, but she had to fix the mess she’d made. An apology felt too little and too empty, but she had to start somewhere.
Regret began to burn through Madeline, leaving huge holes in her heart where Libby and Luke had been these last few weeks.
She walked in to the house, heard Libby in the kitchen, banging things around in anger. Madeline jogged upstairs to Luke’s room, gathered her things, showered and changed into a new dress, donned her socks and hiking boots, and headed down to the garage.
The keys to the Pontiac were still hanging over the workbench. She got in and started it up, and slowly backed out, careful so as not to hit any Johnsons.
The Pontiac rode like a big steamship down the road, gliding over the smaller pits that had felled the little rental car she’d had. Madeline turned a little too sharply out of the main gate, and the rear wheels spun out from underneath her, but with a shriek of surprise, she managed to straighten it out.
In Pine River, Madeline drove to Elm Street. She was disappointed that Luke’s truck wasn’t there. Neither was the van. Frankly, it didn’t seem as if anyone was home; the house was completely dark.
Madeline drove on, to the Grizzly Lodge, where she took two parking spots because of an inability to park the tank with any precision. She was early yet, but stalked into the lobby nevertheless.
“Well hello there, stranger!” Dani called out to her. She wore a purple Guayabera shirt today. “How are things up at Homecoming Ranch? Heard you have a house full.”
Things at Homecoming Ranch were a disaster, and Madeline still could not wrap her head around the damage she’d done. “We do,” Madeline said. “Lots of Johnsons.”
Dani laughed. “That’s an interesting way to put it. Where is Luke?”
“Ah… I don’t know,” Madeline said. “I’m just going to sit over here and wait for a friend, if that’s okay?”
“Well of course it is,” Dani said.
Madeline sat in one of the big leather chairs, waiting for Stephen, going over what she would say, while Dani bustled about, in and out of the office.
At six o’clock, Stephen came down. He looked surprised to see Madeline there. She stood up and smiled at him, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed the curiosity on Dani’s face.
“Hey,” he said, taking her in. “Love the dress. Are you hungry?”
She wasn’t hungry at all; she was a ball of nerves. “There’s a decent restaurant up the road. The Stakeout,” Madeline said, and walked to the door, pulled it open. “They serve buffalo steak.”
Stephen laughed. He stepped behind her and caught the door, holding it so she could go through. “I don’t know about buffalo.”
“It’s good,” she said. “Tougher than beef. But I wouldn’t recommend a steak there.”
Stephen gave her a funny smile. “You’ve gotten all mountain-y on me.”
Madeline considered that a compliment.
“It’s cute,” he said. “I like it.” He put his hand on the small of her back to lead her out the door. Madeline felt uncomfortable, but then again, she always had with Stephen.
At the Stakeout, they settled in at a table and Stephen ordered wine. He seemed happy with himself, as if they were on a date. “I drove by the DiNapoli place,” he said. “They were moving the statues.”
“Oh?” Bree hadn’t told her that, and Madeline hadn’t asked. She didn’t have her list of things to check off, didn’t have a schedule of all the things that needed to be done. She was flying naked as far as her job went, gone far too long to keep a handle on everything. “I need to get back in the next few days and wrap that up,” Madeline said, more to herself than to him.
“Bree said that a woman called looking for the agent who sold the DiNapoli house. Apparently she’s got a dog of a house, too.” He laughed.
New shiny listings was exactly what she had hoped would happen if she sold the DiNapoli place, not ugly ones. Still, Madeline didn’t care. That seemed so shallow, so unimportant compared to the hurt she’d caused here.
“Bree said she’d tried to get hold of you to let you know, but she was having a hard time reaching you.”
“Cell phone reception,” Madeline said listlessly.
The waiter brought the wine, poured it for them. Stephen swirled it around in his glass, then gingerly tasted it. Madeline watched him and thought about Luke, the way he popped the tops off beer bottles. She’d discovered she liked beer. She wished she’d had a chance to order one tonight.
Stephen nodded, and the waiter poured wine for the two of them.
“So,” Stephen said when the wine had been poured. “Now that it looks as if we have this place sold, when are you coming back to Orlando?”
Madeline thought about how best to answer him. Her hesitation seemed to make Stephen a little nervous because he said, “You’ve had a great little vacation, right? A great experience. But your life is in Orlando, isn’t it? Don’t you want to get back to it now that you know Bree is holding a listing for you?”
“I do,” Madeline said, and that was true. She had built her life there, brick by brick. She’d worked so hard to make it in real estate. She’d bought a cute condo in Winter Park, and she felt just on the verge of really making it, all on her own. But that all seemed so meaningless tonight. It wasn’t meaningless, she told herself. Maybe empty.
Madeline pushed away the wine and signaled the waiter.
“Is something wrong?” Stephen asked.
“Yes,” she said calmly. To the waiter she said, “I’d like a beer.”
“What kind?”
“Any kind. In a bottle, though. I like it in bottles.”
The waiter arched a brow. “I’ve got a microbrew you might like.”
“Great,” Madeline said, although she had no idea what a microbrew was. “Bring it.”
Stephen smiled. “You should have said something,” he said, gesturing to her wine. “We could have had beer.”
She thought of Libby out at Homecoming Ranch by herself, and how hard she’d worked to make the ranch ready for the Johnsons, who were, if everything went according to plan, having a bonfire tonight. Libby was right—Madeline had been self-centered and fearful.
“Trudi said you might need a little nudge,” he said with a chuckle. “I can tell you really like the people here.”
Trudi. Her rock, her best friend. Madeline had relied on her so much that Trudi was now calling the shots.
“Madeline, what is it? You seem distracted.”
She’d known from the first date Stephen wasn’t her type, and yet she had allowed him and Trudi to persuade her. She had agreed with Trudi that her reluctance with Stephen had to do with her insecurities and fears, but sitting at the Stakeout, Madeline didn’t know if that was true. She thought it was more likely that it was much simpler than that: Stephen was not the one.
“Madeline?” he asked, and sipped his wine.
“I’m a little distracted,” she admitted. “The thing is, I’m coming home just as soon as the reunion is over. But…”
Stephen’s smile faded. He put down his glass. “Here we go,” he muttered.
Madeline took a deep breath. “But I can’t come back to you, Stephen,” she said. “I don’t… I don’t feel that way about you.” There. She had said it as plainly as she could.
Stephen frowned thoughtfully, as if they were playing a little game. “I know that you’ve had a rough life and it makes it hard for you to trust—”
“No, wait,” she said, and held her hand up. “Listen, I love Trudi. She has been the one constant in my life. But she is not me, Stephen. She thinks she understands me, she thinks she is in my head. But she’s not. It’s not that I am fearful of what will happen. It’s that I don’t feel that way about you.”
He sank back into his chair, staring at her. He clenched his jaw and looked away, his hand curling around the wineglass so tightly she feared it would snap in two.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked at her as he sat up and reached in his back pocket. “I guess I should thank you for being honest,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I don’t thank you, at least not right now. I just did you an enormous favor, Madeline.”
“Not really,” she said with an apologetic wince. “Actually, you caused a lot of trouble showing up like that.”
Stephen glared at her. “Great. You’re welcome for bringing you help and potential buyers.” He pulled out some bills and threw them down on the table. “I’m sure Jim and Chip will do whatever you need them to do with the ranch. I’m headed to Aspen first thing in the morning.”
Madeline swallowed.
Stephen stood up. He began to walk away, but he paused and looked back at her. “We’re not going to see each other again, Madeline,” he said. “But I hope you don’t throw away all that you’ve worked to achieve to be in this little town. There’s so much more to life than this.”
“Actually,” she said, holding up a finger, “my life may be in Orlando. But I’ve lived more in the three weeks I’ve been here than I did all twenty-nine years I spent in Florida.”
Stephen rolled his eyes and strode out. Madeline felt bad for him. And sorry that she hadn’t said this to him a long time ago. But she also felt lighter than she had all day.
And now, she had to talk to Luke. Madeline waited until she was sure Stephen was gone, and then she stood, up, too. The waiter looked confused. “Something came up,” she said, and walked out, the keys to the Pontiac in her hand.
She was nervous when she turned on to Elm Street and saw that lights were on. Luke’s Bronco was not in sight, but she could at least tell someone she’d come by. Maybe she could say hi to Leo, try that silly game video again. Madeline parked in front of the house, gripped the enormous steering wheel of the Pontiac and rested her forehead against it.
Her life had not prepared her for these moments, but for once in her damn life, Madeline was determined to tell Luke how she felt. She had to, if only for herself. She had been transformed by her time in the mountains. Part of her had been illuminated, and Madeline didn’t particularly like what she’d seen: a coward. A closed-off, emotionally drained woman who hid behind tasks and schedules and anxiety. But there were other parts, stronger parts, that she did not intend to lose. So she would say what she needed to say, and if Luke didn’t feel the same way, well… she would cross that bridge then.
She made herself open the door of the car. She made herself get out and walk through the gate. She was committed then, and quickened her step, jogging up the two steps to the porch. She opened the screen and knocked loudly, and steeled herself, her chin up when she heard the footfall of someone coming to the door.
As it swung open, Madeline smiled brightly. Until she noticed how puffy Marisol’s eyes were. “Marisol!” she exclaimed. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head. “Leo. He is in the hospital.”
Madeline stopped breathing for a moment. “The hospital?”
“A seizure. A very bad seizure.”
Nausea began to spiral in Madeline. “Where? Here? Is there a hospital in Pine River?”
“No, no, Durango. They all go to Durango.”
Madeline looked wildly about. She had no idea where Durango was. “Is there something I can do to help?” she asked, her mind racing. “I could take them some things if they need them, I have the Pontiac. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Julie, she takes their things. She’s gone already with their things. You cannot help now. Now, we wait.”
Madeline’s heart sank to her toes. She stepped back from the door. “I am so sorry, Marisol. I hope everything is okay. You don’t know how much I hope everything is okay.”
Marisol nodded, but she was already pulling the door closed.
“I’m so sorry,” Madeline said again, bending to one side as Marisol waved to her around the door and shut it.
Madeline stood there a long moment, staring at the door in something of a daze. Her mind was whirling with fear for Leo, with pain for Luke and his family. And with regret. So much goddamn regret.
She finally turned around and walked back to the Pontiac.