“If anyone could carry it off, it’s you. And you and Gage are so great together. At the wedding it was almost as if you could read each other’s thoughts. I loved watching you two.” Olivia frowned. “I know it must be hard without him. I’ll babysit or shop or do laundry. You name it.”
“I may take you up on that. But now I want to hear about Europe. You went everywhere you planned? Florence. Paris. Tuscany, too?”
“I did. It was amazing.” Olivia gave a rueful smile. “Great food, but I gained ten pounds.”
“You could stand to gain ten more,” Caro said, feeling just a little envious. “So what’s in your bag? You keep looking at something.”
Olivia dug in her purse and set a plastic container on the table. It was a model Caro had used herself. “Well, well. You’ve been busy over there in Europe.”
Olivia flushed.
“Is there something I’m missing here?”
“Probably.”
“So is that a used diaphragm?”
Olivia turned the plastic container slowly. “Almost. Very, very close.”
“Anyone I know?”
Olivia shook her head. “He was nice and smart and gorgeous. A painter from Paris.”
“So what happened?”
“That happened.” Olivia glared at the plastic. “Everything was gorgeous—a quiet country inn. Linen sheets and moonlight spilling through the windows. He didn’t push me, Caro. I wanted to sleep with him. I told him to wait a few minutes and then—then I couldn’t get that devil’s tool inserted. I finally gave up. We had a fight and ended up driving home in total silence. Not a word the whole trip. It was beyond horrible.”
Caro frowned. She could see Olivia was still hurting from the encounter. “I’m sorry to hear it, Livie. They can be tricky.”
“I felt like such a fool.” Olivia glared down at her teacup. “I refuse to feel so humiliated ever again.”
Caro had a sudden memory of Olivia at fifteen, putting on panty hose and trying not to be flustered for her first date. Her father, Summer Island’s mayor and most powerful public figure, had been very strict, criticizing every move his daughter made. Over the years Olivia had never been smart enough or thin enough or popular enough for her father. He never hid the fact that he had wanted a son to groom for his real estate investment business.
In his eyes women were meant to stay at home and keep the house clean, anticipating their husband’s whims. Women were not meant to be CEOs or senators or physicists.
Caro almost never cursed, but she thought a bad word loud and clear. She had said quite a few of them when Olivia’s parents had separated and her father blazed off to become a high-profile mover and shaker in Seattle with a different nubile model on his arm every night.
Good riddance, Caro thought. He wouldn’t be around to dig away at his daughter’s confidence anymore. Olivia could finally find her feet. The time in Italy and France appeared to have done her a world of good. She looked calm and collected.
Caro wondered if the appearance was only skin-deep.
“Pour us more tea and I’ll give you some instructions. When I’m done, you’ll be an expert, Livie. But after that, I want to hear all about Europe. Especially your social life,” Caro said dryly. “With a husband who has been gone for months, I need to remember what sex is all about,” she muttered.
Arizona
Two days later
MORE LAB TESTS CAME back.
Negative for cardiac blockage.
Negative for elevated heart enzymes.
“That’s good, right?” Jilly dragged a hand through her hair as she studied the print. “This means my heart is okay?”
Jilly’s specialist picked his words carefully. “It means the major triggers for a future attack are missing. But we need to dig deeper to find out what did happen. And there’s still the question of your valve malformation and your arrhythmia.” He studied Jilly’s patient records, which were getting thicker by the hour. “Your weight is good. A job that keeps you active, I see.” He flipped through more pages and frowned. “A high-stress work environment. We need to remedy that.” He stopped as someone knocked at the door.
Grace peered in. “Sorry. I’ll come back later.”
“No, it’s okay.” Jilly felt sick at what was about to come next.
No more stress.
No more cooking.
Find a new line of work.
She closed her eyes. “Please come in, Grace.”
“You’re family?” The doctor closed his file and studied Grace.
“A friend. A very good friend,” Grace said fiercely. “I’ll help any way I can.”
“Good. Your friend has some big decisions in front of her. Having a support network will be crucial. What about family?”
“No,” Jilly said coldly. “None.”
“I see.” The doctor tapped the thick chart. “It could be worse. You’re young and otherwise healthy, Ms. O’Hara. No tobacco use. No obesity or diabetes. But your last ECG shows an elevated heart rate. I’m not thrilled about your LDL levels, either.”
“What does all that mean?”
“Your heart is working too hard. At this point, surgery is not recommended. Diet, medication and lifestyle changes are the first step.”
Jilly ignored the first two items as irrelevant. “Lifestyle? I’m not giving up my work, Doctor. I can’t,” she said hoarsely. “I could…cut back a little. Maybe go in late sometimes.”
The doctor looked at her and frowned. “I’m not sure you understand what I’m saying. We only get one heart, by nature’s choice. Blowing through it isn’t a sane plan.” He shook his head slowly. “By all rights you’re far too young for us to be having this conversation. But you’ve had a warning shot over the bow and now you need to pay attention. I’d hate to see you back here in three months. Or in three weeks,” he added gravely.
“So you’re saying I can’t work? I have to lie in bed and vegetate?” Jilly’s voice rose with an edge of hysteria. “I’ll go insane.”
“Then stay busy. Take up a hobby. Find something that relaxes you. For the moment your old life needs to be put on hold while we assess our options and how well you respond to those options.” He glanced at the needles sticking out of Grace’s bag. “Why not take up knitting? Some convincing tests show that knitting confers a measurable relaxation response.”
“Not the way I knit,” Jilly rasped. “I’m terrible at it. Can’t I just—well, cut back my work hours?”
The doctor crossed his arms. “All I can tell you is what makes the best sense for the long term.”
Jilly squeezed her eyes shut. “You don’t understand. Cooking is all I have.”
“What I understand is your health. For you that means at least six months stress-free. It means medication, exercise and careful medical follow-up. The rest will be up to you and your body.” He closed the chart and slid it under his arm. “Get some rest. I’ll be back this evening with a detailed health plan. It won’t be the end of the world.”
He nodded at Grace and then walked outside as his beeper began to vibrate.
Jilly closed her eyes and gripped Grace’s hand. In three months her salsa line would be gone, her vendors lost. In four months her investors would bail out. Her business would be destroyed.
“Hey.” Grace gave her a mock shoulder punch, though her eyes shimmered with tears. “It’s not a disaster. You’ve got us. Remember that. We’ll work this out together.”
Jilly tried to smile.
But Grace didn’t understand. It was different for her and the others. They had families and people they could rely on in an emergency. Jilly was alone—and she always would be.
* * *
GRACE SPOKE QUIETLY, keeping an eye on the door of Jilly’s hospital room. “She’s going to have to make huge changes, Caro. That means no stress and no cooking for at least six months.”
“She’ll hate it,” Caro said fiercely. “It will feel like a death sentence for Jilly. Hold on. The baby�
�s crying.”
Grace heard rustling and then the sound of sniffling.
“Okay, one hungry baby emergency under control.” Caro took a deep breath. “So it was definitely her heart?”
“That’s what her doctor said.”
“We have to get her through this transition somehow.” Caro hesitated. “Can you get email?”
“I’m on my cell right now, but I can get email on that.”
“Great. There’s something I want you to see. This will make Jilly rest, whether she likes it or not.”
“The intervention idea?”
“I think I found the perfect place. There’s a lovely resort in Wyoming that specializes in craft retreats. She can enjoy a class in the day and then relax with a spa treatment at night. Lots of nature. Lots of peace. Not a lot of noise or distractions.”
“What’s this place called?”
“Lost Creek. They hold a highly praised knitting retreat there every year.”
“Knitting? You’ll never convince her.” Wearily, Grace rubbed a cramp in her neck. “Jilly hates to knit. And she hates to be manipulated.”
“I know.” Caro hesitated. “And that, my friend, is where you come in....”
CHAPTER FIVE
Oregon
Three weeks later
“BEHOLD THE NEW ME. Completely calm. Seriously relaxed.”
Jilly scowled at Grace, who was driving. “In fact you see before you the queen of relaxed. But there’s one problem. You can only take so many walks or read so many fluffy magazines before your brain starts to rot. So listen to me, Grace, because this is serious. I love Summer Island. It was nice for the first few days and totally great to see Olivia again. Your grandfather, too.” Jilly tugged back her hair in a vicious twist and dragged a rubber band around the thick strands. “But if I have to endure five more months of this fun, I may shoot someone. Most likely myself,” she muttered.
“Relax, Jilly.”
“Relax how?” Jilly glared up at the gray Oregon sky. “At least in Arizona, it was sunny. These gray skies are depressing.” Jilly sat up straighter, watching a road sign flash past. “You just took the wrong turn. We’re supposed to be going to that new restaurant in Portland.” Jilly’s head whipped around as Grace turned onto the freeway and took the exit for the airport. “What are you doing? I thought we were going to Portland.”
“Not exactly.” Grace pulled into a parking spot and waved at a nearby car. Caro and Olivia jumped out, beaming in excitement.
“What’s going on? Why are Caro and Livie here?”
“Because, my dear, sweet, idiotic best friend, they came to see you off. Caro has your suitcase packed and Livie bought you some new clothes.”
“Clothes? Why clothes?”
“Because you’re going on a trip and you’ll need them.”
“This is a joke, right? You planned some kind of a girls’ night out in Portland. Just don’t tell me it’s at a Chippendales place because my heart isn’t in it. My heart, get it?” Jilly’s face was stony. “I’m trying not to spoil the party here, Grace.”
“No Chippendales. I promise, you’ll like this. It’s a cooking retreat that I found on the web. It’s only offered every three or four years, so you’re in luck.”
Jilly began to smile. “Really? I could handle that. I never have time to improve my skills, and I could finally dig in and catch up.” She hesitated. “But the doctor told me no work—”
“You won’t be working.” Grace grinned. “You’ll take classes. No worry and no cleanup. Low stress all the way.”
“Wow. It sounds great.” Jilly waved at Caro and Olivia, who slid into the backseat. “Cool scarf, Livie.”
“I got the yarn in Florence. They really know how to live over there.” Olivia tapped on the suitcase near her feet. “I’ve loaded up on your favorite travel food, chocolate included. You’ll be in junk-food heaven. Caro packed the rest of your stuff, and I added a few clothes.”
Jilly looked shell-shocked. “You mean I’m going now? What about Duffy? What about my ticket?”
“All taken care of.” Olivia high-fived Jilly. “We’ll take care of your dog and everything else. This trip is our gift to you.”
“Seriously? You mean—”
“We mean you are going to go and have fun, Jilly. You’re going to start over and learn how to relax.”
Jilly rubbed her hands in excitement. “You guys are the best. You know that? I’ve told you that, haven’t I?”
Grace coughed and then pulled back onto the road. “Terminal 3, here we come.”
“Where is it? San Francisco? New York?”
“Wyoming,” the three others said in unison.
Jilly frowned. “I’ve never heard of any cooking programs there.”
“It’s all in your travel folder. Olivia will give it to you at the gate.” Caro frowned at Jilly. “And remember. No caffeine. No alcohol. No heavy exercise or stress. You’re supposed to take it easy.”
“Sure, sure. I can go without coffee now. I won’t buy a single cup while I’m gone. And no all-night keggers, I promise.” Jilly wriggled like a kid, eager for details. “So what is this place called?”
“Stop asking questions and move.” Grace eased the car to the check-in curb, motioning to Olivia in the backseat. “Olivia will go inside with you and help with your bag. She can answer any questions, too. We’ll circle a couple of times and wait for her. Now get moving.” She leaned over to hug Jilly. “Take care of yourself.”
Olivia jumped out first, but Jilly grabbed her suitcase away and charged inside.
Caro shook her head. “She’ll never change.”
“Don’t worry, Livie can handle her. By the time she realizes the truth, she’ll be on the ground in Wyoming.” Grace gave a guilty laugh. “And there are no more flights out tonight. I already checked. Like it or not, Jilly will be stuck there—on the vacation of a lifetime.”
Lost Creek, Wyoming
JILLY HAD ONLY LANDED ten minutes before, and her head was spinning from the whirlwind trip. So this was Wyoming.
She hadn’t expected the mountains to be so big.
And the airport to be so small.
She crossed the waiting area and frowned at the row of two dozen seats. “This is a mistake. This can’t be the airport for Lost Creek. It’s tiny.”
“No mistake, ma’am.” The attendant at the sleepy baggage claim glanced at Jilly and sized her up for a big city tourist. “You going up to the resort?”
“I thought I was going to someplace near Jackson Hole.”
The attendant laughed. “Quite a few peaks between you and Jackson. A couple million dollars in real estate values, too.” He pointed out to the curb. “You can get a taxi over there. May have to wait a bit. Joe just had a baby so they’re short-staffed.”
Jilly felt a headache building force. “How long would it take to drive to Jackson Hole?”
The attendant looked as though she’d made a rare joke. “Couldn’t do it. Not with all the mountains you’d have to cross. Why’d you want to go there anyway? Overpriced and overpopulated, if you ask me.”
“The restaurants for a start. The fresh produce.” Jilly closed her eyes. “The coffee,” she whispered with a sigh of longing. “Oh, yes, the coffee.”
“We got coffee here. Darned good coffee shop over on Main Street. This your bag?” He lifted the bright blue suitcase and sniffed. “Smells like chocolate.”
Jilly took the bag and frowned. It did smell like chocolate.
“Probably sitting on the heater in the service truck. Must have melted the chocolate.”
Another disaster. Jilly closed her eyes and tried to relax. “So how far is it to this resort?” Jilly dug into the pocket of her leather bag and found the big envelope that Olivia had handed her right before she boarded the flight to Denver. Jilly had assumed this place called Lost Creek was near Jackson Hole. Remote but sophisticated.
But there was no point in arguing now. She was bone-tired and ravenous.
Coffee would have been nice, followed by room service and a long soak in a big tub. Maybe even a massage. That’s what people did to relax, right?
Jilly didn’t know. She’d never had a massage and she hardly ever relaxed.
Something nudged her foot. She looked down and fell into a pair of big brown eyes.
A broad, furry face stared up at her.
The big brown Lab retriever looked calm and expectant, as if Jilly were an old friend who would know what to do next. And just like that Jilly’s mood brightened.
She loved dogs. Any color, any size, any breed, they made her day.
Her irritation vanished as she sank down on one knee and rubbed the dog’s soft brown fur. “Oh, my. You’re a beauty, aren’t you? Smart, too.” Impulsive as always, Jilly felt no fear. The dog made a rough sound of pleasure as she found the little hollow behind the right ear.
It never failed. What dog didn’t like to be scratched slowly, just along that sensitive little ridge?
“Excuse me, ma’am. My dog isn’t good with strangers. Touching him is a bad idea.”
“He’s your dog? Well, we’re doing just fine here. In fact—” Jilly glanced up, ready to protest, but her breath tangled up in her throat, lost in a husky gasp as she saw the rugged man looming over her.
CHAPTER SIX
HE WAS TALL, AT LEAST six-four. His eyes were an uncommon shade Jilly had never seen before. Not quite navy. Not quite gray, either. No, they were an unusual, restless shade warmer than both.
His skin was tan from long hours outdoors. A cowboy, by the look of him. Long legs. Seriously long legs. Jilly couldn’t help running her eyes up that long, lean length of man with a silent sigh of appreciation.
Okay. This was one ruggedly handsome cowboy.
She coughed and stood up slowly, gathering her wits. The man was almost six inches taller than she was. She wasn’t used to that. She also wasn’t used to the quiet, focused way he was studying her.
No chatter. No cues of any sort. Totally reserved. But he looked as if he liked being in command of things around him.
Her brain began to race. Maybe he was a rancher with a few hundred thousand acres, which he personally supervised by Jeep and horseback. On the other hand he carried himself with an almost tangible sense of command. Slow, simmering charisma of a very alpha type.
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