by Stacy Finz
“About a half hour away in Glory Junction,” Griffin said.
Okay, too far to really promote the area as a ski destination. “How’s the real estate market in Glory Junction?”
Everyone laughed.
“Those crazy Trekkies from the city will pay seven figures for a shack.” Owen rolled his eyes.
“Trekkies?”
“He means Techies.” Brady shook his head. “But, yeah, the market is red hot there. Same outdoorsy feel as Nugget. We’ve both got a river and a lake. The only thing lacking in Nugget is the ski-in ski-out resorts, the fancy shops and the froufrou.”
“Is it mostly second homes? People who come up from the Bay Area for the weekend to play?” She figured it was a lot like the Hamptons where her parents had a second place.
“Exactly,” Griffin said. “Not enough jobs to live in Glory Junction or here full time unless you can telecommute.”
“Is it correct to assume that the homes you’re selling here are less expensive than the ones in Glory Junction?”
“Yep.” Griffin gave her a thumbs up. “But still too expensive to appeal to railroad workers and ranchers.”
“Then you need to make your community an alternative to Glory Junction. Sell it as a less expensive option that still offers an outdoorsy lifestyle. I don’t know, call it something like a spa experience for the nature lover. Buy up ads in travel and luxury magazines. Tap the weekend get-away market.”
“Whoa, I like it.”
She’d just been riffing off the top of her head. Without having seen the place, she was at a disadvantage. But if Griffin’s planned community was anything like the Circle D Ranch it had to be breathtaking. All this countryside was.
“That’s just an example. The point is not to rely on traditional real estate listings but to target people who don’t even realize they want a second home. You have to make them want one and persuade them that not only can they afford it but it’s a good investment.”
Brady gave her a once over. “Are you in marketing or something?”
“Advertising.”
“You up on vacation?” Brady smiled at Henry who had been staring at his tattoos. “I didn’t notice you staying at the Lumber Baron. I work for Breyer Hotels. They own the Lumber Baron.”
“Henry’s Dr. Daniels’s patient.” By now she’d learned that everyone seemed to know one another in this small mountain town. “We’re staying in his cottage.”
“Can I hire you?” Griffin asked as Owen brushed hair off his neck.
“Uh . . . I’m pretty tied up with my son.” Telling him that the Barnes Group’s clients were typically major corporations would’ve sounded snobby. “But a local agency should be able to handle your job just fine.”
Owen finished with Griffin and all but pushed him out of the chair, signaling for Brady to climb up. Griffin joined them in the waiting room, pulled up one of the plastic chairs, turned it backwards, and straddled it.
He was a nice-looking man, younger than Brynn, and kind of a Charlie Hunnam look alike.
“Hey, Henry.” He shook Henry’s hand and from Henry’s reaction Brynn could tell that the attention made her son feel important. “Griffin Parks. Nice to meet you both. How you liking Nugget?”
“I like it,” Henry said. “Dr. Daniels has horses. I got to ride one the other day.”
“Ethan’s got some nice horses all right. We’ve got some too over at Sierra Heights and a lady who gives lessons. How long you staying in town?”
Henry looked to Brynn. “About two months while my son recuperates from his surgery.”
“Come on over and see us.” He tugged his wallet out of his pocket and scrounged through it until he found a business card and slipped it to Brynn.
He paid up at the cash register and waved his hand in the air as he went out the door.
Brynn turned the card over. Apparently, Griffin was Nugget’s resident businessman. According to his card, he owned the local gas station, a convenience store, a custom motorcycle shop and Sierra Heights. From an advertising standpoint, she didn’t know if she would’ve put all that on one business card. But it was economical, she would at least give it that.
She turned her attention to the assortment of reading material while Brady and Owen discussed the weather. There were a few People and Cosmopolitan magazines that were months old. But the bulk of the selection were about hunting and fishing.
Henry was occupying himself with a year-old Highlights. So far, his hip—the spot where Ethan had harvested his bone marrow—didn’t seem to be bothering him. But she’d given him Tylenol before they’d left the Circle D.
An attractive woman pushed a stroller through the door. “Hey, Owen. Hey, Brady. Darla wouldn’t happen to be here would she?” She craned her neck, searching the back of the barbershop.
“Day off.” Owen stopped cutting Brady’s hair and crouched down in front of the stroller. “You’re getting big there, Paige.”
The woman glanced curiously over at Brynn and let her gaze fall on Henry.
“What do you need from Darla?” Owen asked.
“Shampoo. I forgot which one I get and she keeps a list on the computer.”
“Can’t help you there. Don’t know how to use the thing.” He eyed the iPad next to the old timey cash register with distaste. “Don’t know why she needs a computer to keep track of these things. Shampoo is shampoo.”
“This one is specially for color treated hair and has some kind of UV protection.” She slipped past Owen and perused a shelf of shampoos, conditioners, hair gel and mousses.
Brynn recognized some of the brands from the salon she went to in the city and was surprised to find luxury hair products in a country barbershop. It was good to know she could get them here, though Zena had sent Brynn’s from home.
“It’s either this one or this one.” The woman held up two bottles. Both had similar packaging. “I’ll wait until she’s in. Otherwise, I’m liable to get the wrong one.”
“Suit yourself, missy.”
The cowboy . . . Clay . . . who’d helped Henry with his hat came in. “You get what you need?” he asked the woman.
“Nope. I have to wait for Darla. You ready to go?”
“Yep.” Clay tipped his hat at Owen and Brady, then at Brynn and Henry, who instantly recognized the man. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this. How’s the hat working out?”
Henry once again looked to Brynn, who silently told him to answer for himself. “Good. I didn’t wear it today because I’m getting a haircut but Dr. Daniels made the sides better.”
“Yeah? He use a little steam?”
Henry nodded. “It’s like his now and kind of like yours.”
“Ethan knows what he’s doing. You all staying up at his place?”
“Yes,” Brynn said and introduced herself and Henry.
“Clay McCreedy.” He gestured toward the woman, who’d been observing their conversation with interest. “This is my wife, Emily, and that right there is Paige, our little girl.”
“Hello.” Brynn smiled at Emily. “Your husband helped Henry pick out his first cowboy hat at the store up the road.”
“Oh yeah? Clay’s had a lot of practice picking out cowboy hats.” She put an arm around her husband and inexplicably Brynn felt a tinge of melancholy. “How are you liking the Circle D? Are you staying in the cottage?”
Clearly, she and her husband had figured out the situation. If nothing else the wheelchair was a dead giveaway.
“It’s lovely. We’re from Manhattan so this is quite a treat.”
“Ethan’s got a great spread,” Clay said, slinging his arm over his wife’s shoulder. Both smiled in that pure way that told Brynn that they were very much a unit.
“I don’t know how long you’re here for but we have a great high tea at the Lumber Baron every Sunday.” Emily lo
oked at Brynn expectedly.
“Yes, the innkeeper . . . Maddy, right? . . . told me about it. I’d love to go but it’ll all depend on this guy here and how he’s feeling.” She mussed Henry’s hair.
“If you like sweets, Henry, you’ll want to come,” Emily said. “Or we can send Alma home with treats.”
People were unbelievably nice here. Brynn attributed it to the slow pace of living in the country. Home in Manhattan, everyone rushed around so much no one had time to reach out to a neighbor or a stranger.
“We will do our best to make it, won’t we Henry?”
Henry gave a small nod. He was holding up so well that Brynn wondered whether Ethan exaggerated the aftereffects of the surgery. Either that or Henry had been through so much these past eight months he’d become immune to pain.
But an hour later both theories proved wrong. As they returned to the cottage Henry sat in the backseat, rocking back and forth, silently crying.
“We’ll be home soon. I’ll get you some Tylenol and you can lie down.” She slid a look in the rearview. “Your hair looks great.”
He wasn’t listening, lost in a world of hurt. She kicked herself for taking him to town, seeing now that the trip and the haircut had been overly ambitious just a day after surgery. But he’d seemed fine this morning.
As she ushered Henry inside, she thought about calling Ethan. Maybe he could prescribe something stronger. Honestly, she just wanted to hear his reassuring voice. But she didn’t want to take advantage of the fact that they were living on his ranch and had struck up a friendship. At least she thought it was a friendship. Perhaps he had dinner with the families of all his patients.
She doubted it, though. The pizza was one thing. But the flash of guilt that flitted across his features when he’d invited them to do it again on Friday was a pretty good indication that he didn’t typically fraternize with the mothers of his patients. She may have been married to Mason for ten years but that didn’t mean she was clueless.
She was attracted to Ethan Daniels and she was pretty sure he was attracted to her. She also knew it wasn’t anything either of them could act on. Perhaps her little crush felt safer for that very reason.
Henry curled up on the sofa while she went to get the Tylenol. If it didn’t help with the pain, she’d go to plan “B.”
A short time later, he was out, his arms clutched around one of the throw pillows like he used to hug his stuffed bear when he was a tiny boy. She stood there, watching him sleep, her heart moving in her chest. Her sweet little boy. Unable to resist, she dropped a small kiss on the top of his head.
“Sleep tight,” she whispered.
She made herself a sandwich in the kitchen and ate it in front of her laptop. On a lark she Googled Sierra Heights, finding only a story about the gated community in an old Nugget Tribune article and an even older real estate ad in the classifieds.
Why wasn’t there a website, a Facebook page, or an Instagram account? No wonder the man wasn’t selling houses. If she ran into Griffin Parks again she planned to tell him to take advantage of social media—it was free!—and investing in building a good website.
She checked in with Layla and Rich, made some minor tweaks to a new campaign for Apple, and left a message for Lexi. She read the Time’s review of Berlioz’s “Symphonie Fantastique,” which waxed poetic about her father. Not surprising.
Funny, for all her father’s musical talent, Brynn couldn’t so much as hum in tune. Mason used to joke that to save them all, Brynn should refrain from singing in the shower. Unfortunately, Henry had taken after her. His rendition of “Für Elise” bordered on painful.
So, her son would never be a pianist. Henry had other talents. He drew beautifully for one and he was such a compassionate little boy, never mean to anyone. His teacher called him the classroom peacemaker. Perhaps he’d be a diplomat one day.
There was a soft rap on the door and Brynn’s pulse quickened. It was still relatively early, only four. But she hoped it was Ethan. She fluffed her hair, trying to remember if she’d even put on makeup before they’d gone to town, and answered to find Veronica standing there.
“Can Henry come out to play?”
“Oh, honey, Henry’s sound asleep.” Brynn went outside and quietly shut the door. “He’s not feeling so well after his appointment yesterday. Are you out of school for the day?”
“Uh-huh. My grandma said I could come over but only if it was okay with you.”
“Henry will be disappointed that he missed you. But we’re having dinner tomorrow.” It was ridiculous but she’d already planned her outfit. A simple pantsuit that according to Lexi, showed off Brynn’s curves.
“My mommy’s coming tomorrow. She’s making patha for me and my daddy. My grandma can’t come.”
Ethan hadn’t said anything about canceling. The possibility filled her with disappointment, a disappointment too deep for a woman supposedly mourning her dead husband.
Roni jumped up with excitement. “Henry can come.”
“That is very nice of you to invite him, Veronica.” Brynn wiped a smudge of dirt off Roni’s nose. The girl was too adorable for words. “Let’s see how Henry feels, okay?”
“Okay. When he wakes up can he play?”
“If he’s feeling up to it, absolutely. We’ll call up to the house.”
Brynn watched Veronica skip up the hill and tried to imagine living in a place where children had backyards the size of Central Park and could safely run free.
She went inside and debated whether she should send Ethan a text about Friday. It wasn’t as if the need to know was pressing. She and Henry would simply have dinner together, alone. But she secretly hoped Roni had gotten the date wrong.
It turned out texting him wasn’t necessary. Ethan had sent his own message.
“Sorry, but I have to cancel Friday. Something’s come up. Ethan.”
It wasn’t a something, Brynn told herself. It was Ethan’s ex-wife.
Chapter 10
Joey was running late. She’d spent too much time getting ready, changing at least four times before settling on what to wear. Even now, forty miles from Reno, she second guessed her selection. The red sweater dress said first date, not casual dinner at home with her daughter and ex-husband. She should’ve stuck with jeans and a fitted tunic—her first choice.
And she’d gone too heavy on the makeup. She grabbed a tissue from her visor dispenser and began blotting red from her lips. In the review mirror she caught her reflection and cringed. The 90s called and wanted its eyeliner back. Seriously, she looked like she was on her way to a dance club.
She thought about stopping in town, finding a bathroom, and washing her face clean. But Ethan hated unpunctuality more than he did overly made up women. Though the two were nearly neck and neck for his least favorite things.
She’d just have to suck it up, maybe say she was coming straight from a job interview. Yeah, for a part in a drag show. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard, took a deep breath, and tried to stop being so hard on herself.
The groceries for a delicious dinner sat in her trunk, including Ethan’s favorite dessert. Coconut cream pie from the best bakery in Reno. She’d even gotten Roni a cupcake decorated in butterflies, her daughter’s latest obsession.
For once in her life she was organized and there was nothing Ethan loved more than organization. Despite her poor wardrobe decision, she could pull this off and prove to Ethan that she truly had her act together.
But as she drove through the Circle D’s gate, she could feel a trickle of perspiration collect in the bridge of her bra. Simba—another thing Ethan had gotten in the divorce—greeted her in the driveway.
She was halfway out of the car when Roni flew down the porch steps and into her arms. And suddenly Joey’s clothes and her makeup didn’t matter anymore. Instead, she filled herself with Roni. The smell of her
sweet baby shampoo hair, the feel of her small body vibrating with excitement and the way in that mini voice of hers she said, “Mommy, Mommy, you’re here.”
“I’m here. And I’m so, so happy to see my best girl.”
“I’m you’re only girl, Mommy.”
“Yes, you are. But you’re also my best girl. My best everything.” Joey wrapped Roni in a hug and held her tight.
When she looked up, she found Ethan standing on the front porch, watching them. His expression, a combination of something Joey couldn’t quite identify—sadness maybe—made her suddenly feel self-conscious.
“Want to help Mommy carry up the groceries?” She popped the trunk and handed Roni the pie box. “Careful with that. It’s Daddy’s surprise.”
“Did you get me a surprise?”
“Of course I did.”
“What is it?” Roni tried to wedge herself between Joey and the trunk to peek.
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it? Take that to the kitchen, Roni.”
When Joey turned around Ethan was there. He took two grocery bags out of her hands. She picked up the bakery box with Roni’s cupcake and followed Ethan into the kitchen.
“Where’s Alma?” she asked, silently hoping that Ethan’s stepmother wasn’t joining them.
“She had plans.”
“Too bad, I brought enough food for all four of us and then some.”
He raised his brows to let her know he knew she was lying. She and Alma had never made a secret of their dislike of each other. Alma had never thought Joey was good enough for Ethan and Joey didn’t appreciate Alma’s meddling.
She started to unpack the bags, making neat little piles on the counter, all the while trying to gauge Ethan’s mood. Unlike her, he’d dressed casually. Faded jeans, a Stanford sweatshirt, and his ranch boots.
“Where are your pots?”
He nudged his head at the enormous pot rack over the center island. You’re an idiot, Joey. No, she was just incredibly nervous.
It never used to be that way between them. In fact, during their marriage, Joey had always suspected that Ethan had loved her just a little more than she had loved him. Though it was a sad statement on their relationship, it had always given her a slight upper hand.