by Cora Seton
And please, please—marry Jericho with your heart high. Don’t worry about me. I’ve made my bed, and I’ll sleep in it. Be happy, Savannah. For my sake.
Love,
Win
He wondered what she was doing right now. He refused to search her name on the internet and had forbidden anyone else from telling him news about her. She’d never once gotten in touch to explain her actions directly. He wanted to believe there was some other explanation for her behavior, but the letter ruled that out. He’d been loyal to her—still was, in his heart—but she was loyal only to her family’s fortune.
The ache in his chest intensified. It was a constant companion these days. How could he have been so wrong about someone? Had everything Win said and done been an act?
He thought back, the same way he’d done a thousand times before, his memory snagging like it always did on a strange occurrence early in their acquaintance. They’d eaten dinner and spent the evening with the others in the bunkhouse on a rainy day and were scattering to the tents they’d all slept in last summer. This was before they’d begun to build the tiny houses, and the cold weather had forced the remaining singletons into spending their nights in the bunkhouse. Win had hesitated in the doorway and scanned the area outside just like he or any of the other men might have. He had served as a Navy SEAL. Win hadn’t had any military training he knew of.
Her reconnaissance wasn’t the normal scan a civilian might make before stepping out into the dark, however. There was something precise about it. Something thorough. Angus bet that someone with a military background had taught her that.
“All clear?” he’d joked, and she’d stiffened.
“All clear.” She’d hurried off, not giving him time to ask questions. Maybe he was making a mountain out of a molehill, or maybe he wasn’t. Where would Win have learned that military precision? What else didn’t he know about her? Something had torn her away from him, and he couldn’t make himself believe it was simply greed.
Boone cleared his throat, breaking into his thoughts. “That’s right; whoever draws the short straw doesn’t have to marry Leslie.” His tone said it would be better for everyone if he did, though. “Just filling you in.”
Angus looked at the photo again, already knowing this woman wasn’t his type. Never in a million years had he pictured his life turning out this way. His family had come from Scotland to America when he was eleven when his father had landed a job in Ithaca, New York, teaching history at Cornell University. It had been hard to move to a new country and a new school. Back home he’d been liked—had felt a part of things, having lived his whole life in a single village. He still remembered the teasing his accent engendered in upstate New York. Kids could be vicious.
He realized now it was that urge to belong—and to be considered a real American—that had made him join the military the moment he was old enough. The Navy appealed to him, and he’d shone as a SEAL. Base Camp had seemed like the logical next step. Joining nine of his brothers-in-arms on a project near and dear to his heart? Of course he wanted in.
The marriage requirement was the only fly in his ointment. Win’s arrival at Base Camp had made it all seem so simple.
Now Angus couldn’t fathom pledging his heart to someone else. Marriage vows were supposed to be for life. The ultimate declaration of loyalty.
Was he supposed to lie?
“Let’s get back to work,” Boone said. “No sense worrying about any of it until tomorrow.”
I’d better not pull the short straw, Angus thought darkly. A glance at Walker told him the other man felt the same way.
“Children are so expensive,” Andrea lamented. “You’re so lucky, Win. You have to think about only yourself.”
If only that were true. Win held herself perfectly still so Maria, her seamstress, could make the last necessary adjustments to the gown she was wearing to the Manners Foundation gala tomorrow night. These days, it seemed like she had no latitude to think about herself at all. Ever since she’d returned to California, she’d split her time between tending to her mother and acting as go-between, transmitting Vienna’s orders to the executives at Manners Corp and the Manners Foundation, making sure both were run smoothly during Vienna’s illness. Her mother had refused to allow Win to join her when she traveled to the pricey private treatment clinic she’d chosen, instead leaving her at home, dictating Win’s movements through texts and lengthy phone calls.
Vienna was a fighter, and she hated anyone to see her at her weakest, but sometimes she called Win from the clinic when she was feeling her worst. Those calls were the hardest. Win would wake in the middle of the night to the buzz of her phone, snatch it up, her body bathed in anxiety, then try to staunch her fears while Vienna begged her in fading tones to stay on the line.
“You don’t know how strong you make me feel,” Vienna often whispered. “You give me something to fight for. Otherwise, I don’t know what I’d do…”
“You should fight for yourself,” Win always said. “You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother.” Vienna would sigh. “It takes over your whole world.”
Sometimes, Win always wanted to add. Vienna hadn’t been around much when Win was a child—until she’d turned thirteen. Only then had her mother become her constant companion.
For a while.
Win wished she could share the news about her pregnancy, but given Angus was the father, she decided that would only upset Vienna, who was so fragile. Instead, she focused on helping her mother. Vienna still ran her ragged, especially when her energy flagged; she seemed determined to induct Win into the fold, hinting that her brush with cancer had forced her to see she needed a succession plan.
“Someday this will all be yours. You need to know how to run it,” she often said from her bed, bringing in Win to give her a list of orders to complete before the end of the day.
At one time Win would have been over the moon. Her mother had never let her near Manners Corp before.
Now the honor had lost its shine.
She missed Angus desperately. Was having trouble keeping up the charade. When she’d left Base Camp, she hadn’t known he’d be one of the last to marry. Angus still hadn’t drawn the short straw after all these months, and waiting for that final heartbreak was slowly killing her. Sometimes she daydreamed about escaping to the airport, flying back to Montana and marrying him herself—
But then Vienna would have one of her bad nights, the ones where she got lost in the past, thought Win was thirteen again, woke up screaming—and then struggled to find energy to do anything the following day.
Win strove not to let her sadness affect her health. She worked hard to eat in a nutritionally sound manner to support her baby’s growth, while not allowing herself to gain more than the bare minimum of weight. Luckily, she was tall, and her long torso made it easier to hide her pregnancy, even into the beginning of her sixth month. She’d hired a personal trainer who worked with prenatal clients to develop an exercise program and a personal shopper to help choose clothing that would hide her condition.
“There’s so much to buy,” Andrea went on, sitting primly on one of the tailored chairs in Win’s dressing room. She’d be at the gala tomorrow night, too.
Maria, fussing with the gown, a ruffled affair Win had chosen to hide the curve of her belly, snugged it around Win’s waist, then pulled back. She looked up, and when Win met her gaze, her eyebrows lifted. Win sent her what she hoped was a stern “don’t say a thing” look. This was why Win had tracked down Maria instead of using her mother’s tailor. Maria was the sister of Win’s old nanny, Rosa, and Win knew both women could keep a secret.
“Just a few adjustments,” Maria said and got to work with some pins.
Win smiled gratefully at her.
“There’s the baby furniture for one thing,” Andrea went on, not noticing Win’s distraction. “And all the baby clothing. I’m buying mine in Europe nex
t month, you know. You can’t get anything decent here.” Andrea smoothed a hand over her own barely rounded belly.
God, she missed Angus so much. Missed the way he worked beside her in the greenhouses, making jokes to pass the time. Missed the way he held her hand every time they walked together. Missed the rumble of his voice in her ear when he whispered sweet nothings before they said good-night to each other.
Someone rapped on the door.
“Come in,” Win called.
One of her ever-present bodyguards, standing watch outside in the hall, opened it, and Vienna came in, supported by her maid, Elise. She meant to put in an appearance at the gala, too, which Win thought was a bad idea. She was still far too delicate, and it wasn’t clear yet whether she’d need more treatments.
Vienna was tall, like Win, but much too thin, dressed in a sharp black pantsuit that proclaimed she meant business, even if she was far from back to normal. Her cheekbones were too sharp. Her eyes too bright for Win’s comfort.
“Leif is coming to the gala,” she announced.
“Leif?” Win’s heart lurched. Her mother couldn’t mean to try to—
“Just warning you,” her mother said. “Though if you were smart, you’d get back in his good graces. He’s spent the last four months in Europe, and his parents want him home. They’re pushing him to marry; a wife and kids would convince him to stop his roaming. You know you broke his heart when you broke off your engagement.”
“Mom,” Win said warningly.
“He’s a far better match for you than that farmer ever was.”
Win lifted a hand to her throat, as if somehow she could smooth away the lump forming in it. Angus was so much more than that farmer to her. She couldn’t let her mother know that, though.
Before she’d returned home, Win hadn’t realized how much Vienna hated Base Camp, but now she realized it was a minor miracle she hadn’t brought the full force of the family’s influence to bear on shutting it down. Win suspected it was Martin Fulsom’s billionaire status that had kept her in check. Base Camp’s backer had a fortune that dwarfed her parents’, much to Vienna’s chagrin.
She prepared herself to ward off a further attack, but Vienna pulled out her phone to answer a call.
“Then there’s the decorator’s bill,” Andrea said as if no one had interrupted her. “The wait list fees for private schools. My personal trainer,” she added. “So important. There are the extra hours for the housekeeper, the laundry bills, the stylist’s fee—my baby will definitely be in style, thank you very much. And of course there’s the nanny. You know we’re building an extra wing for her. There’s no way we could fit anyone else in our little house as it is now.”
Had Maria just snorted?
Win wasn’t sure, but the seamstress wouldn’t be out of line if she had. Andrea’s little house was over ten thousand square feet, with four outbuildings at last count.
Angus would be shocked.
Win closed her eyes. Angus would never know. If—no, when—she talked to him after the show was over, he’d be far too angry for chitchat. They’d sort out a visitation schedule. She’d try to explain—
“You know, getting back together with Leif is a great idea,” Andrea said suddenly. “You could get pregnant, too, and our babies could be friends just like we are!”
She was never getting back together with Leif, and she doubted he wanted to, either, even if he didn’t know she was carrying another man’s child. When she’d split up with him, he hadn’t done much to win her back. “Are you sure?” was all he’d asked on the phone. “Vienna’s going to hit the roof. So’s my dad,” he’d added glumly.
At the time she’d thought his tepid reaction was a great reason to forge ahead with living at Base Camp.
Despite herself, Win pictured the bunkhouse, everyone gathered for a meal, chatting and joking the way they did at the end of a day. She pictured Angus handing her a plate, encouraging her to eat up so she had the strength she’d need when they got alone together.
Pictured being with Angus.
Her mother slipped her phone into the pocket of her suit and surveyed Win critically. “You’re getting fat.”
Maria’s hands froze in midpin. Win’s heart stuttered, but she forced down her panic. There was no way Vienna could know about her pregnancy.
“I am not fat,” she made herself say evenly. Vienna had always been concerned about appearances.
“Well, anyway.” Vienna snapped her fingers, and Elise handed her a large, flat, square box out of a bag she’d carried into the room. “No one will notice your waistline. They’ll be too busy looking at this.” She lifted a diamond necklace out from layers of tissue paper, crossed to stand behind Win and did the clasp behind her neck. “Jewelry fit for a princess. A little thank-you for being so selfless, coming home and taking care of your poor mother.”
Win stared at their reflection in the large three-paneled mirror positioned in a corner several feet away, then looked down in time to catch Maria staring up at her. Maria quickly got back to work, but either Win was imagining it, or she’d given a quick shake of her head.
As well she might. The necklace was… “Ridiculous,” she breathed. “Mom, this is too much—” Was Vienna feeling guilty she’d separated her from Angus?
“It’s perfect,” Vienna said firmly. “You look like royalty. American royalty. Which you are. It’s time to let the world know you are truly back in the fold of our family. You are a Lisle, not some farmhand mucking about in the dirt, and someday you’ll inherit the Lisle fortune and all our affairs.”
“How much did this cost?” At least enough to buy wind turbines to power a whole town, she figured. Maybe a whole city.
“Money doesn’t come into it. You know father’s ambitions don’t end at the governor’s mansion. One day you’ll stand on the steps of the White House while your father is sworn in as president of the United States. A diamond necklace is the least of it.”
Her father as president. Once that vision would have filled her with pride, but it rang hollow now.
“What’s his platform going to be?” she asked, forgetting to keep her thoughts to herself.
Vienna’s chin lifted. “What it’s always been. Law and order. Peace and prosperity. A new day for our great country.”
“How is he going to protect all of us from climate change?” Win asked. “Ow!” Maria had stabbed her with a pin. Win looked down, and Maria shook her head again, but Win couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Is he going to invest in renewables? Lead a moon-shot type program to bring our country’s carbon footprint down to zero?”
“That’s enough,” Vienna said evenly. “You know the Manners Foundation gives money worldwide to help offset the effects of climate issues.”
“While Manners Corp and every one of its subsidiaries uses fossil fuels like there’s no tomorrow. If I look at the Manners Foundation investment portfolio, will I see petroleum companies in the mix? I’m sure I will.”
“Where do you think we get the money to pay those men out there guarding the doors?” Vienna snapped.
The fight went out of her. Vienna held the trump card, as usual and who was she to quibble about investments when the profits from those companies had provided the cash to save her all those years ago?
“Andrea, come with me. I have something for you to bring to your mother, if you don’t mind.” Vienna gave the necklace one last twitch into place and patted Win’s shoulder. “You’ll excuse us, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Win said.
Vienna took Elise’s arm again and turned toward the door. Andrea moved to follow her, shooting a look at Win as if to say, “What were you thinking getting your mother riled up?”
As soon as they were out of sight, Win undid the necklace’s clasp with shaking hands and flung it onto a nearby chair. Maria lunged and caught it before it slid to the floor. “Careful,” she hissed.
“What if I don’t want to be careful anymore?” Win asked her. “Oh, Maria, I
—” She closed her mouth before the truth slid out. She was miserable, and she was afraid she’d made a huge mistake coming home. She didn’t want to be selfish. It had been the right thing to support her mother through her recovery, but her heart was still in Montana with Angus, and no matter how much she argued with herself, she wanted to be there, too. “I don’t want my father to be president.”
Maria snorted again. Muttered something in Spanish. “There,” she pronounced, stepping back from the stool on which Win stood. “Your dress will be perfect.” She gestured to Win to step down and remove the gown. “I’ll take it home and have it back first thing in the morning. My granddaughters will love to get another look at the dress. They think it’s fit for a princess—” She cut off. “You know what I mean.”
“I do know,” Win said. “How are your girls?”
“They are thriving. They’re with Rosa today.”
Win sighed. “I wish I was with Rosa. I could use some of her wisdom.” Her old governess had lived with them until Win reached high school. She’d accompanied Win to and from school, to appointments and activities, a kind of chaperone since Vienna was so busy. She’d been Win’s main confidant back then, but Win supposed it was silly to want a governess now. She was a grown woman.
She could have used a friendly face, though.
“Come home with me for a visit,” Maria suggested.
“Right now?”
Maria shrugged. “Why not?” She looked around and lowered her voice. “I’ve got something to tell you, and I’d rather not do it here.”
Win checked the time. She had a dinner engagement to attend tonight with her father, and he’d expect her to look perfect since they’d be joined by another important couple. She’d gone to a number of these dinners, ostensibly to take her mother’s place by her father’s side but really to show his rattled backers that she would no longer be on a television show whose message ran contrary to their financial interests.
“Are you coming?” Maria had placed the gown in a garment bag and was gathering her things. “It’ll be good for you to get out of here for a bit.”