“Look, Jack, asking Samantha to move here, to give up her entire life for you, is asking a lot.”
“It shouldn’t be, if you’re in love with someone.”
“Oh, Jack, you of all people know that’s not true!” She took his beer away. “Now, you need to stop drinking and start thinking. Samantha’s trust was trampled on her whole life as a little girl. Ruth told me all about it. She was left here every summer while her parents went gallivanting all over the world. She was shipped off to boarding schools or dragged from country to country year after year. Those kinds of experiences change a person!”
“But I can’t change what happened to her.”
Betty sighed in exasperation. “Men! Why are you all so literal? Jack, she’s not going to move here with you because she learned a long time ago that she has to stand on her own in order to be okay. Her independence is what makes her feel safe. So if you want her, you need to show her that she can have all that—safety, trust, independence—right here with you.”
Jack stared at Betty, stunned, trying to take in everything she was saying. It made a lot of sense, actually. “But I’m not sure how to do that.”
“If you really love her, you’ll figure it out. Think big gestures, Jack. Not just flowers or kind words, though they help. Do something bold and brave. Now, give me a kiss, I’ve gotta get going—I have more things to accomplish today besides fixing your life!” She raised her cheek to accept the quick kiss that Jack gave her and then sauntered back to the truck, obviously very pleased with herself.
Jack called to her. “Betty!” She turned and looked over her shoulder at him.
“Yes, Jack?”
“You’re a meddlesome woman, Betty! But thanks. Thanks a lot.”
She beamed at him and climbed into the cab of the truck. “Don’t forget what I said, Jack! A grand gesture!” And she was gone down the driveway in a cloud of dust.
Jack opened the basket and his spirits rose when he saw what was inside. He’d never realized that blackberry muffins went so well with beer. He spent the next few hours, sitting on his porch, combining the two. And sometime during the last beer, and the last muffin, a glimmer of inspiration flickered in his hazy brain. Betty had told him to come up with a grand gesture. He just might have one that could show Samantha what was possible. That city and country, work and play, independence and love, could coexist right here on her ranch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE CELEBRATION was at one of her favorite San Francisco landmarks. Well, landmarks for those who really liked cocktails, that is. Located at the bottom of a historic post office, it had a speakeasy ambiance and some of the best martinis in the city.
Maybe because of her new senior vice presidential status, Harold had asked Samantha where to hold the victory party for the new Peter Claude account, and she’d chosen the Metro Club.
Sitting at the beautiful oval bar with its swirling art deco pattern, Samantha sipped her Manhattan and tried to smile as she accepted congratulations from her colleagues. It was a celebrity night for her. Everyone knew she’d helped Mark lead their team to such a successful pitch, and news of her promotion had leaked as well.
“Senior VP in only six years, huh?” Tim from the art department sailed up and gave her a crushing hug. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie!” In an exaggerated stage whisper he added, “Everyone knew you were doing Mark’s work for him anyway. It’s about time they gave you this darn promotion!”
“Shhh...” Samantha giggled. Tim was one of her favorite people to work with, and she was flattered by his statement, but it was definitely bad office politics.
“Samantha!” Lucy, who’d started recently in their media department, clinked glasses with her. “I’m so happy for you. And don’t forget, you’re meeting with me at 7:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow, so don’t drink too many of those!”
Lucy needn’t have worried. There were so many people coming by her perch to say hello that Samantha didn’t have much time for her drink.
Sitting there, showered in so many good wishes, Samantha knew she should be happy. All week she’d been telling herself to be happy. But ever since she’d said her goodbyes to the ranch, and to Jack, she’d felt mainly sadness and loss. And things she normally enjoyed seemed hollow. Empty.
During one of the busiest weeks of her career, she kept finding herself staring out the conference room windows, or doodling on her notepad. And the pictures she scribbled were always of mountains.
The funny thing was, she’d wanted this promotion for so long, and had worked so hard for it, but now that she had it, it worried her. It used to be that Samantha loved the routine of her life. She loved her career goals, the security of success, the predictability of her days. But now, when she looked ahead at the months and years to come, she saw the heavy workload, the endless meetings, the busy schedule stretching on and on. And it all seemed disturbingly dull, as if her life was going to consist of jumping from calendar entry to calendar entry, rather than actually living.
Of course, there would be some time off from work to play in the city. But San Francisco had lost some of its appeal recently. Maybe the fog that had shrouded the city all week had something to do with it, but Samantha felt a bit like Dorothy in the old Wizard of Oz movie. Right now San Francisco was her Kansas, where everything existed in black and white. And her time on the ranch had been her Oz, vivid with Technicolor. Samantha had been like Dorothy, trying to get back home, to the security of the place she knew best. The problem was, now that she was here, she was finding it hard to accept the familiar gray landscape. Instead, she longed for the adventure and color of the ranch.
Samantha shook her head to bring herself back from her long metaphor, and took a sip of her neglected Manhattan. She needed to mingle, to be seen around this party, but her heart wasn’t in it. She wondered how Jack was, and what he was doing right now. She thought about the old farmhouse, sitting dark and dilapidated in the mountain night. What would become of it?
“Samantha?” It was Harold’s voice. Apparently he’d given some kind of speech, and now he was holding up a portable microphone in her direction. From the puzzled look on his face, it seemed he’d called her name a few times already.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Coming.” There were a few chuckles from the crowd at that and Samantha crossed the room and went up the steps of the dais that Harold was speaking from.
She cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say. “I want to start by thanking the people on my team. I mean, our...” she gestured vaguely in the direction where she’d last seen Mark “...team. They put in long hours, worked with wonderful creativity and spirit, and they are the ones who deserve the accolades for getting this account. Please give them a round of applause!”
While the clapping filled the room, Harold leaned over and put his hand over the microphone. “Why don’t you say a few words about your promotion?” He suggested with a warm smile.
Why didn’t she? Because she had no idea what to say. Every time she thought of it she pictured a long, straight, gray road, lined with cubicles and conference rooms, computer screens and calendars. It twisted her stomach and her mind was devoid of words. The room had quieted and she looked around nervously.
“Harold has kindly asked me to say a few words about my new promotion.”
“Youngest SVP ever!” Tim called out. Laughter scattered through the room and a few people clapped.
Samantha cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the odd lump that was growing there. “Yes...about that.” And then she knew, more surely than she’d known anything, ever, that she couldn’t go down this colorless path.
Yes, she was terrified of change, but she was even more terrified of the sameness that waited for her on the other side of this speech. She looked around at the familiar faces in the room and tried to summon the right words.
&nb
sp; “I want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed working with you. And how honored I am to receive my recent promotion. But I’m afraid I can’t accept it. In fact—” she turned to Harold, who was looking stunned “—I need to turn in my resignation right now. I’m very sorry.” She looked down for a moment, collecting her jumbled thoughts. “You see, there’s a ranch, in the sierras, and the aspen are changing color. And there’s a cowboy...” She heard her own words and felt a fiery blush spread over her cheeks. She looked at the crowd of Taylor Advertising employees staring blankly at her. “Never mind,” she told them. “It’s complicated. Goodbye. And thank you.” She handed the microphone back to Harold and whispered, “I’m so very sorry.” And then she was gone, through the crowd of uncertain faces and out the double doors of The Metropolitan Club into the damp fog of the San Francisco night.
It took her precisely twenty-five minutes to pack and close up her apartment, and then she was in her car, heading across the Bay Bridge, the lights of the famous city skyline fading behind her. Her heart was pounding and her mind was racing.
She knew what she’d done was irresponsible. And probably completely crazy. But the wild beauty of the mountains was calling like a siren’s song and the endless bustle of her life in the city seemed meaningless in comparison. Right now, nothing mattered more than witnessing the changes that another week of autumn had brought to the rough land she was coming to love. Nothing mattered more than seeing Jack again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
WHY WERE HER LIGHTS on at two in the morning? Why would the lights in the old ranch house be on at all? Samantha quickly turned off her headlights and parked her car a little way off to the side, away from the front porch.
Heart pounding in her ears, she carefully stepped out of the car and tiptoed around the side of the house. Her old friend the two-by-four was leaning against the porch, so she picked it up and carried it with her as she tried to look in through the dining room windows. Someone had thrown an old canvas drop cloth over the table and the surface was scattered with tools.
A whirring sound pierced the silence of the deep mountain night and Samantha jumped, her heart in her throat. Forcing herself to stay calm she listened. A drill? Who was drilling in her house uninvited? At two in the morning?
Samantha walked back to the porch and up the steps. Crouching down, she scooted to the living room window and peered over the sill. Lights were on here, too. There were cardboard boxes on the carpet and several pieces of lumber lying beyond. She heard the drilling sound again.
Carefully she opened the front door. The noise was coming from the downstairs bedroom. Samantha punched the numbers 911 into her cell phone and put it in her jacket pocket, so it would be easy to dial if she needed it, though at this point she was more mystified than scared.
She raised her two-by-four over her shoulder like a baseball bat, tiptoed across the living room and down the small hallway that led to the back of the house. At the bedroom door she peered around the frame. Jack was crouched over a piece of wood on the floor. Samantha stepped into the doorway.
Jack stood up suddenly and Samantha started, dropping her weapon in the process. It landed with a thud on the wood floor. Jack whirled around, drill raised as if he was holding a gun.
“Samantha! What the...” He stopped and lowered his drill.
“What are you doing in my house, Jack? In the middle of the night? Did something happen? Did something break?” Her tired mind was sifting through possibilities. Did Rob have accomplices? Was there more vandalism?
“Nothing’s wrong. I promise.” Jack put the drill down on the ground next to him. “I wasn’t expecting you to come. I honestly didn’t know if you’d ever come back at all.”
“So...you decided to remodel? Jack, you don’t own the place yet!” She looked around. The storage boxes that used to fill the room had been moved out and she could see that three tall windows let in light from the east side of the house. In daylight there would probably be an amazing view out to the valley floor.
“It’s an office,” Jack explained. “For you. So you can work here.”
All the fear she’d felt coming into the house tonight, all the anxiety over the huge decision she’d made at the office party earlier, surfaced in her voice. “Jack, this isn’t your choice to make! This is my career, my life. You can’t assume...”
“Wait.” He interrupted her almost-tirade. His voice was quiet. “I’m not assuming anything. You left, remember? You told me goodbye? Trust me. No assumptions.” Jack ran his hand through his hair and looked down at her, his eyes dark, his face completely earnest. “I just wanted some way to show you that I believe it’s possible for you to be happy here. With a busy, rewarding career. Have your cake and eat it, too, you know?” He looked tired, and sad, and Samantha’s anger faded.
She walked toward him, wanting so much to put her arms around him. “Jack, you didn’t have to...”
“Please, just look, Samantha.” He took her hand and brought her over to a beautiful antique desk that had been placed near the windows. Someone had recently refinished it and the old wood gleamed with its new polish. Jack was pointing to a bulletin board behind the desk. It had been made from a huge old ornate picture frame and took up most of the wall. “Betty’s idea. She saw something like it in a magazine, but we made it from a frame she’d found at a flea market a while ago.”
“It’s beautiful,” Samantha said softly, touching the swirled wood.
“Look what else Betty did.” Jack pointed to three pages pinned to the cork. On them were spreadsheets, with the names of people or businesses listed. In the next column it detailed the nature of their business. Phone numbers were provided.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Samantha said.
“It’s a list of everyone in Benson who has some type of business, and needs help publicizing it. Betty asked everyone she could think of if they’d like to hire you, and here are all the people who said yes.”
“But there’s got to be at least fifty people on here! Benson is a tiny town.”
“It’s not only town businesses on here.” Jack pointed to one line that read “Sierra Fishing Expeditions.” “They have a lodge a little south of here and they lead tours all summer and fall. Doug, who owns it, wants to expand into winter trips, but he needs help publicizing them. And these folks.” Jack pointed to the middle of the second page. “They just started a family camp. Honestly, I saw their first attempt at an ad campaign and I can tell you that they need a ton of help. And look here. A friend of mine, Sandro, is working on opening a restaurant in town. Not just any eatery, though. A gourmet, destination type of place. That project alone could keep you busy for months.”
“So you’re saying I should open up an agency of my own. Out here.” She looked around the room at what would soon be a beautiful office. Jack had been building her a bookcase tonight. She could see that now. “In this room.”
“I’m not telling you what to do. I wouldn’t do that. I know that in order for you to be happy here, you have to love the mountains, just for themselves, apart from me. Because they are the center of what it means to live out here, Samantha. I love this place. But Walt calls it the back side of nowhere and he’s not far from the truth!”
Samantha laughed at that. “Walt’s got a way with words, hasn’t he?” Her heart was pounding again, but in a hopeful, excited way this time. “You and Betty didn’t have to do this, you know.”
“I had to try. I understand that maybe it’s not right for you...”
“It’s so thoughtful, Jack.” Her arm came up to encompass the beautiful room. “It’s so incredibly thoughtful. But it wasn’t necessary. Because I came back. On my own.” At Jack’s puzzled look she went on. “Aren’t you wondering why I’m here? At two in the morning? I quit my job, Jack. Tonight. In the middle of a big party, when I was supposed to be giving a speech. I
quit my job!”
His slow smile started, the one she loved so well, with his sense of humor shining through. “Really? You quit right in the middle of your speech? I wish I could have seen that.”
“Um, I might have mentioned something about a ranch...and a cowboy...”
“It sounds like one for the ages,” he teased. Concern darkened his features. “But why? You just got promoted. You said yourself that your dream had come true.”
“And you were right when you said there could be new dreams. I couldn’t stop thinking about the mountains, Jack. I want to see the fall colors get brighter, and the leaves carpeting the ground at the end. I want to watch the world go white during the first snowstorm. For so long I just wanted my life to be predictable, safe and secure. But I don’t want that anymore. I want a new kind of life, where I’m not sure what’s going to happen next. Where there are adventures and mishaps and risks. You helped me see that, Jack. And so did Grandma Ruth, by giving me this ranch.”
She looked over and he was watching her carefully, his expression a mix of hope and caution and desire. She closed the gap between them with quick steps and took him by the hands. “I got in my car and drove most of the night, and on the way I knew for certain that you are the other reason I need to be here. I love you, Jack. I love you so much.”
His arms came around her and he held her close. His voice was muffled against her hair. “I love you, Samantha. I’ve loved you for a while now. I always will.” They stood like that for a long time, holding on to what they’d almost lost, quiet with their thoughts.
Samantha broke the silence. “I can’t change, Jack,” she told him, still holding on tight. “Or at least I don’t think so. I still love my beautiful clothes and shoes, and I know I’ll visit San Francisco a lot to see my friends. I doubt I’ll ever want to bake muffins or do crafts like Betty does. And, yes, I got scared by a goat the other day. But I know I want to be here, to live here, in the mountains with you.”
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