That pain was so crushing, she’d taken a rare personal day off from work. Burrowed beneath her soft bedding, she didn’t know if she’d ever get up.
She had the right to be independent, but had she handled things the right way? Maybe it was selfish to think she could just arrange things and skip off to her future. She should have talked to them first, told them she was discontent. Maybe they would have listened to her concerns and been more willing to work with her to find a solution.
And as for Troy... She went back and forth between feeling awful she’d kept this from him and being angry at his reaction. He had no hold on her, no commitment. Even if they had been falling for each other, he had no right to think she shouldn’t pursue a future of her own choosing. Yes, they’d declared their love for one another, and yes, they’d shared some toe-curling encounters in the bedroom. But what did they have beyond that? They hadn’t yet established any parameters for their relationship. It was all still so new.
And now, it may be shattered beyond repair.
Eventually, she was forced out of bed by nature. So, she moved from the bed to the couch. All she wanted to do was sit by the television, binge her favorite comedies and eat junk food.
Her phone rang, snapping her out of the trancelike state she’d fallen into. “Hello?”
“Robyn, it’s Kima. What’s going on with you?”
She sighed. “Let’s see. My parents have probably disowned me, and Troy hates me. Other than that, just your typical Thursday.”
Kima gasped. “What happened?”
She gave her the rundown of yesterday’s disastrous beginnings. “I managed to alienate almost everyone I care about, in one fell swoop.”
“You haven’t lost me, although you know I’m about to hit you with a giant-sized ‘I told you so.’”
She cringed. “I know, I know. I should have seen this coming.”
“You’ve made a big ol’ mess for yourself. Now, you’re gonna have to woman up, and fix it.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” She groaned, pressing herself into the sofa cushions as if they could swallow her up.
Kima popped her lips. “You’re going to have to make a decision about that job.”
Robyn nodded to herself. “I know. I was so sure of myself. I felt so positive I wanted to leave this town.” She paused, searching for the right explanation. “I felt trapped here, as if I couldn’t breathe free. I needed to get away to some place new. Now, I don’t know...”
“If maybe the something new just needs to be a new attitude, not a new place?” Kima said softly. “I get what you’re saying. I think you need to ask yourself, though, is it really worth everything you stand to lose if you take the job?”
At one time, she thought it was. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Probably not.”
“Then handle that. Aren’t they expecting you in like, a week?”
“Yes. And if I rescind now, I’m probably giving up any shot of ever working there in the future, because of the short notice.”
“You know what? Maybe they’re not the best employer in the world asking you to come out there on such short notice. You could at least ask for an extension. If they can’t do that for you, I’d rethink whether they are a good fit. I’d say you call them, see what you can find out about starting later and then move on to making things right with your parents. They did birth you, you know. You owe them.”
She ran a hand over her face, knowing her friend was right. “Fine. When I get off the phone with you, I’ll call the folks in San Diego. What are you doing when you get off work?”
“Nothing, after I pick Leah up from school.”
“I feel like I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“Tell you what. I’ll bring her over later with some ice cream, and we’ll just hang with you for a while. How’s that?”
She smiled, grateful to have such a true friend. “Thank you, Kima. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She chuckled. “Finally! If I’d known that was all it would take to get you to admit that, I’d have offered you ice cream a long time ago.”
After she hung up with Kima, she placed a call to the San Diego Wildlife Conservatory. First, she asked about an extension on the offer, telling them it was proving too difficult to meet the deadline. She explained that this was her parents’ ranch, and she couldn’t just abandon them so quickly. She said she thought the earliest she could arrive would be in the New Year.
As Kima suspected, they didn’t respond well.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Chance, but when we made the offer, it was on the condition you come right away. You’d seemed eager to start, and we need someone far sooner than the New Year,” said Dr. McMillan, the same man who’d originally called to offer her the job.
“Does that mean you’re no longer interested in me? If I can’t be there in...a week?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re disappointed that you won’t be joining us, Dr. Chance.”
“So am I and let me again offer my apologies for the inconvenience. I was so gratified with your invitation, I accepted the position too quickly, without fully considering my circumstances.” Although she was polite, inside she seethed. Kima had been right. She didn’t want to work at a place that was so cold, so unreasonable. They’d kept her dangling for months, and wouldn’t even budge on an arrival date? She suspected working there would be unpleasant.
“I see. I appreciate you letting us know, and I respect your honesty.”
“There are just some personal matters here in New Mexico that I must attend to, and I can’t take the position in good conscience, at least not at this time.” There, she was rejecting them, not the other way around. It felt good.
“I understand, Dr. Chance. We wish you the best of luck in your professional endeavors.”
She knew that was corporate speak for “Don’t ever call us again,” but she had to accept the consequences of her actions. “Thank you.”
She blew out a breath, relieved that she’d handled at least one of the tasks on her list.
A different kind of relief washed over her, though—something deeper than the satisfaction of taking care of a distasteful job.
She felt...free. She felt at peace. With the worry about the job in San Diego no longer hanging over her, she could handle things the right way. She suddenly realized she was glad to be staying at the ranch, happy not to leave. Another thing Kima was right about—feeling free was a state of mind, not a location.
Now, I just need to see if I can get Mom and Dad to talk to me. So, shifting positions on the couch, she pulled the throw up around her pajama-clad body and dialed her mother.
“What is it, Robyn?” Her mother’s tone was flat.
“Mom, I really need to talk to you and Dad. Can I come by the house tomorrow? I’ll bring Chadwick’s doughnuts.” They were her parents’ favorite, from a local baker with a shop in downtown Grandeza.
“Nice use of bribery, honey.”
“I’ll use whatever I have in the toolbox.”
Her mother released a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Come on over, around nine.”
“I’ll be there. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too,” she replied softly before hanging up.
Hours later, she’d showered and dressed, feeling no need for her friend and goddaughter to see her looking like a hot mess. She’d also straightened up so that when Kima and Leah arrived, all the evidence of her earlier tear-fueled snack binge had been thrown away.
Leah skipped in after her mother, with that ever-present smile on her face. “Hey, Auntie Rob.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” She bent down to kiss the top of Leah’s curly head.
Leah immediately reached up to adjust her hair. “Don’t flatten out my ’fro, Auntie.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kima, already emptyin
g the grocery bags she’d carried in, said, “What flavor do you want?” She gestured to the containers on the dining-room table. “I’ve got cookies and cream, strawberry and chocolate fudge.”
“I want strawberry, Mommy!” Leah stood by the table, her little legs doing a happy, anticipatory dance.
“I’ll take a scoop of each.” Robyn pulled down bowls from the kitchen cabinet and brought them, along with the ice-cream scoop and three spoons, to Kima.
Soon, the three of them were in the living room, enjoying the cold, creamy treat. Kima and Robyn were on the sofa, while Leah sat on the floor with her bowl. To entertain her, the television was on a kids channel.
“So,” Kima began around a mouthful of ice cream, “have you started handling things?”
She nodded. “I already called the conservatory and told them I can’t take the job. Then I called my mom, and asked if I can come by tomorrow, with Chadwick’s doughnuts.”
She looked impressed. “Nice idea. Those doughnuts are a nice bribe.”
“Mom said the same thing.”
“I think you’re forgetting something, though.”
She shook her head. “No. I know I have to deal with Troy. I just don’t know what to say to him.”
“I can’t tell you what to say, except that you should start with an apology.” She spooned up more ice cream. “You’ll have to figure out the best way to let him know you mean it, and that you’re never going to be dishonest with him again.”
“Auntie?”
“Yes, Leah?” She turned toward the sound of her goddaughter’s voice.
“Why don’t you just take him to your talking place, and then you can make up?”
Her brow furrowed. “Talking place?”
Kima shook her head. “At her school, they have a little alcove in the classroom—the teacher calls it the ‘talking place.’ Whenever two students are having conflict, they go there and sit until they work it out.”
Leah nodded. “When kids go in, they’re mad. But when they come out, they’re friends again.”
If only things were that simple between adults. But maybe there was a way to apply that same logic to her situation. “Thanks, Leah.”
“Anytime, Auntie.”
* * *
Troy walked into his grandmother’s closet at her apartment Friday, pulling the cord to illuminate the space.
“It’s on the shelf to the right,” she called. “It’s pink.”
His gaze finally landed on the hatbox. “I see it.” Reaching up, he took it down and turned off the light.
Back in the front room, he brought the box to his grandmother and placed it on her lap.
“Are you sure you’re up to this right now, Mama J? You just had surgery yesterday.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, taking the lid off the box. “Now that I’ve got a solid diagnosis, the right meds and some oxygen, I’m right as rain.”
He looked at her, noting how she didn’t seem bothered by the nasal cannula she wore. The clear plastic tubing was barely visible, and Dr. Mertz had instructed her to wear it for a few hours every day to help with her shortness of breath.
She shuffled through the papers, then lifted out a set of stapled pages. “Here it is.” Handing it to him, she said, “That’s the deed to the Heaven’s Edge Resort.”
He looked it over, and from what he could see, the document was legit. “If I’m the owner, who’s been running the place for the last ten years?”
“Your grandfather hired some very loyal, capable people to manage the hotel. They’re a local family from the area, and they keep in regular contact with me.”
“And the money?”
“Some goes into an account that pays for my care here. Your grandfather made sure to set that aside for me.” She pointed to the pages. “The rest is in a trust, being held for you. If you look on the last page, you’ll see the lawyer’s name that’s in charge of the account. Go see him, and he can get you access to the funds.”
He sat back, taking in all this new information. “This is all so crazy. How much is in there?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is, my portion will be enough for me to live on, comfortably, until I turn one hundred and five.”
His eyes bulged. “Wow.”
“Ask the lawyer. I’m sure he has all the details.” She raised her hand, stifling a yawn. “As a matter of fact, go ask him now, so I can take a nap.”
He laughed, then went over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Promise me you’ll hang around until you’re a hundred and five, Mama J.”
She grinned. “I’ll do my best, sugar.”
He left the retirement village and drove downtown. Within the hour, he sat across the desk from Gilbert Rojas, the attorney in charge of his grandfather’s assets.
Mr. Rojas placed a pair of reading glasses on the end of his nose as his paralegal handed him a printout. “Mr. Monroe, I’ve run a check on your trust account. The current balance is—”
He glanced at the printout and named a number well north of seven figures.
Troy nearly fell out of his chair. “That much?”
“Yes. After payroll and other expenditures of the hotel are met, a percentage of the profits go into this account. That’s been the case since your grandfather gained ownership in 1972. Mr. Monroe was also very fastidious about sticking to a budget. He was a very smart man, securing his family’s future this way. Very few of my clients have that kind of discipline and foresight.”
Troy couldn’t but help smile, not only at learning the size of his newfound wealth, but also at hearing someone speak so highly of Grandpa Horace. “Thank you, Mr. Rojas.”
“No problem, Mr. Monroe. Now that I’ve verified your identity, I’ll contact the bank, to let them know you’ve come forward to claim the account. You should be getting a call from them soon about accessing the funds.”
Troy left the lawyer’s office feeling like his entire life had changed. The next order of business was to get up the mountain to see the hotel he now owned, but that could wait until tomorrow.
He knew he should celebrate, but there was a cloud of darkness hanging over his otherwise sunny mood.
Robyn.
She’d wronged him, crushing his heart. She’d been ready to leave him behind, without telling him. Just as he’d done to her the night of their junior prom. Maybe Rick had been right about her setting him up for a fall.
Still, he couldn’t seem to quell his love for her. What am I gonna do when she leaves town? I can’t go on pining after her forever. How could he trust her again, after the way she’d behaved?
Knowing she was wrong was one thing. Forgetting how she’d made him feel was another.
The papers in his pocket constituted a new life for himself, one of relative ease. He no longer needed his job at the ranch, but he wasn’t sure how he wanted to move forward just yet.
Fortunately, thanks to his grandfather, he could take as much time as he needed to figure things out.
Chapter 17
When Robyn walked into the dining room at her parents’ house on Saturday morning, they were already waiting for her. She felt their gazes on her as soon as she entered.
Much like the last time, her father was dressed for work, and her mother, for leisure. Today’s tracksuit was green with gold trim.
She set the box of doughnuts on the table, then sat down two seats away from her mother.
Her father, at the head of the table, watched her intently.
“Good morning, Mom, Pop.”
They each responded in kind, her father grumbling, her mother murmuring.
To break through the awkwardness, she flipped open the doughnut box. “I got a dozen, assorted. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” Cooper reached in, taking a cruller. “We’re more interested in what you
have to say than we are in the doughnuts.”
“Your father’s right about that.” Thelma folded her hands, resting them on the table.
Drawing a deep breath, she began. “I want to start out by saying I’m very sorry for my behavior. There are no good excuses for what I did, and I’m not going to try to make any. But, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try to explain.”
Cooper gave her a solemn nod.
“Earlier in the year, I started looking at veterinary jobs on the West Coast. I applied for four jobs, one of them at the San Diego Wildlife Conservatory. It was my dream job—a chance to work with exotic animals and be a part of the discussion on conservation. I knew it was a long shot, but I applied, anyway.” She shifted in her chair. “Months went by. Two of the jobs rejected me, and one was announced as filled. Only the San Diego job was left, but I never expected to get a call. But then, a couple of weeks ago, I got the call. I was so excited, I said yes right away.”
“Sounds like you got a little ahead of yourself.” Thelma’s voice was soft.
“I did, in the worst way. I can’t believe I thought I could fill my position, move my household and make it there in three weeks.” She shook her head, thinking back on that day. “Anyway, it was a bad decision. A bad decision to hide my search from you. A bad decision to tell the conservatory I could be there in three weeks. A bad decision to think I could just replace myself without telling you about a new hire. Who knows? Maybe I’ll work at a place like the conservatory one day, but if they can’t wait for when I’m ready, they’re not for me now.”
Cooper asked, “Does that mean you’re not taking the job?”
She shook her head. “No. I called them yesterday and backed out. I just couldn’t leave, especially knowing how much I’d upset you.”
Thelma reached out, took her hand. “You’ve made a very mature decision, Robyn. And I want you to know, you should never feel you have to hide your dreams from us. Never. Sure, we want you to stay here. But we’re proud to have raised a smart, independent woman. We don’t want you to feel tied to us by duty, but only by love. I know it must have been hard to give up that position.”
Then Came You ; Written with Love Page 14