“Since when is it un-PC to think maybe the workplace isn’t the right place for babies?” Cooper had demanded of his partners, throwing his arms wide before swiping Braden up and holding him upside down, much to the delight of the boy.
“Since we all had them or have them on the way,” Michael said, and shrugged at Cooper’s incredulous look. Even Jack’s wife was expecting their first child. “Times change, dude. You gotta roll with it.”
“Roll with it? So, what, you’re suggesting I go out and get a kid because you have?”
“I’m suggesting that maybe TA is changing. Maybe it’s not the same outfit it used to be, and there’s no real point to hanging on to the past,” Jack had said calmly, as if he were speaking to a lunatic.
“Changing into what?” Cooper had demanded. “How about earning a living? How about getting the hell out of the city and doing something fun?”
“We still earn a living,” Eli had said. “But maybe we work fewer weekends and maybe we don’t hurricane surf.”
Dammit, even now, Cooper was still pissed about that discussion. It had been only a couple of years ago that the four partners had been united in their life views—the more women and extreme sports, the better. They’d been well compensated for their adventures and were in high demand—
Well.
They used to be in high demand. Their ability to take some of the better jobs that took them out of the country into dangerous places had suffered when the herd of babies had started to grow and wives had gotten involved. It was like his three partners had walked off a movie set, leaving Cooper to hang lights or tidy up. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling even slightly adrift.
But that afternoon, Cooper had felt more defeated than ever as he’d dislodged Braden from under his arm and handed him to Michael, who promptly set him down and handed him a wooden spoon. Braden beaned his brother almost instantly with it, setting off a round of screeching and tears.
“So what did Carl want?” Michael asked as he forcibly removed the wooden spoon from Braden’s hand.
Cooper told them. About the medal, about Emma’s flight to Colorado, to some place near Pine River.
“Emma Tyler!” Jack said, his eyes sparking when Cooper told them who the woman was. “Now she is one good-looking woman.”
Cooper could not disagree. She was possibly the most attractive woman walking around Hollywood. Or Colorado, wherever she was. Too bad she was so strange. “Nevertheless,” he’d said, “we are not in the business of chasing down people who steal trinkets from their lovers.”
“I agree,” said Michael. “Seems like a waste of our time. Why would he get mixed up with her, anyway? Everyone knows how she sleeps around.”
“Oh yeah?” Jack asked, interested.
“Hell, I don’t know,” Michael said. “I’ve heard it.”
“Who cares who she sleeps with?” Eli had said with a wave of his hand. “How much is Carl willing to pay?”
Cooper showed them the piece of paper on which Carl had written his offer.
For a moment, no sound but Elmo could be heard as the men stared at the zeroes scribbled on that paper.
“Well now,” Eli said. “We are in the business of extreme sports. And we’ve got the canyoneering trip late next spring for Fox Studio execs. We haven’t decided where, have we?”
“We have not,” Michael said firmly. “And this seems like a perfect opportunity to go and explore some possibilities in Colorado, am I right? We’ve had good luck there, and it’s a dry winter—Leah and I canceled our ski trip because there is no snow.”
“Wait,” Cooper had said. “Are you suggesting we go and look at mountain locations in the dead of winter?”
“Why not just consider this an opportunity to do some advance legwork on Carl Freeman’s dime?” Eli had asked. He’d put his hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Just take a drive around, Coop. A look-see.”
“Great idea,” Jack said. “I’ll draw up the contract with Carl.”
“Come on guys—” Cooper was set to argue, but at that particular moment, he felt something wet on his leg. He glanced down. One of the twins had managed to get the lid off his sippy cup and had poured his milk on Cooper’s leg and foot.
Cooper looked at that cherubic face, then at his three partners, all of whom were trying very hard not to laugh.
“Great. Just great,” Cooper had said tightly, and had walked out of the offices before he’d said something he would really regret.
And he did love the mountains.
He’d even felt a little hopeful when he’d finally pulled into Pine River yesterday. It was high forties, a bright, sunny day, and he’d decided he wouldn’t mind spending a little time here, maybe taking a trip over to one of the ski valleys one day. If Emma was going to run from Carl, this was a good place to go.
It hadn’t taken too much digging to find out where, exactly, Emma had gone. She’d actually told her boss about Homecoming Ranch. “I remember it had such an interesting name,” the woman had said.
The drive out to the ranch had perked Cooper up. It was about eight miles out of Pine River, an old mining town that had sprung up on the valley floor high in the Colorado mountains. The mines were long gone, and the town had turned itself into a tourist destination for summer mountain sports. As the ski valleys were too far away to be considered convenient to Pine River, winter was the off-season for Pine River.
The ranch setting was a gorgeous location, a perfect postcard of welcome to the Colorado mountains. The house itself was set in a stand of alder trees, up against the mountain and Ponderosa pines. It was old and in obvious need of repair, but it still had its charm. The roof was a collection of steeply angled pitches over various rooms and floors. The ground floor of the house was built with stone, and the second story, which looked to have been added on at some point, was made of tongue-and-groove logs. Large plate-glass windows lined the front of the house and reflected the snow-capped mountains rising up across the valley.
In between the house and a red barn was a grassy area enclosed by cottonwoods. Faded Chinese lanterns had been strung through the trees, and three picnic tables were situated under the branches. From one tree, a tire swing spun lazily.
The only jarring element to the picturesque setting was the empty tent pads and partially constructed cabin.
Cooper had another look at them as he drove away from the ranch.
He drove out the gate marking the entrance to the property, and down the narrow, two-lane road that wended down to the valley. He passed beneath pines, spruce, and cottonwoods, past empty meadows. Eli was right—there could be some great opportunities for TA here. As the weather was abnormally warm and dry, Cooper was going to enjoy poking around once he was through with Emma.
Minutes later, Pine River came into view. Cooper entered the older part of town where houses sat beneath towering elms on streets laid out on a grid. It looked like Anywhere, America, with bungalow houses and neat yards. Cooper tried to imagine Emma Tyler living in this town, but he couldn’t see it. She didn’t fit. Cooper wasn’t sure where Emma fit, actually, but it damn sure wasn’t Middle America. It occurred to him that she might require her own planet.
She’d been shocked to see him, perhaps even a bit frightened, her eyes going wide. She had seemed to him even skinnier than the last time he’d seen her, and he wondered, why didn’t the girl just eat? He didn’t understand what was in her head. She was beautiful. He guessed that she pulled down a very good salary given her status at CEM, and was obviously good at what she did. She had everything going for her, but had a reputation for sleeping around, having a strange, distant demeanor, and merely tolerating everyone and everything around her.
All of those rumors were so wildly incongruent with the package of her that it intrigued Cooper in a don’t-get-this sort of way. Maybe because he’d had a very different experience with h
er at the Applebaum bat mitzvah. She’d been sunny and engaging, and he’d really liked her . . . until that bizarre ending in the kiddie lounge.
And then, the kicker. There she’d been, in Reggie’s limo. He would never forget her in the window of that limo, or her expression, framed in his mind’s eye now. She’d looked resigned. Distant. Like the Emma of the kiddie lounge had checked out, and had been replaced by a sullen Barbie doll.
She’d obviously been unpleasantly surprised by him today. So why hadn’t she just handed over the damn medal and sent him on his way? That’s what he’d do if he were in her shoes—he’d just give the thing back and get on with life. Surely she knew he hadn’t come all this way on a hunch. Surely she knew that he was certain she had it.
Cooper found Elm Street easily enough. The houses on this street looked a little older and more weather-beaten than some of the newer houses Cooper had seen on the edge of town. The houses were a midcentury style, with shutters and window awnings, their garages detached and suitable for only one car. He spotted a green house at the end of the block, a chain-link fence bounding the property. In the drive was a maroon-colored passenger van with elaborate flames painted up the sides. Cooper wondered idly what sort of business that was supposed to represent.
As he pulled to a halt in front of the house, he could see the recent addition to the structure. The paint wasn’t quite a match; the owner apparently had declined to paint the whole house. Decking had also been added around the house, including a wheelchair ramp. That ramp, along with the flaming van, stumped Cooper. He couldn’t begin to guess what sort of job Emma would have here.
He unfolded himself out of his rental, smoothed his hair back with his hands, and walked through the gate. But before he could make it up the walk, a man stepped out onto the porch. He wore a sweat-stained garden hat on his head and slowly came down the steps to meet Cooper, eyeing him warily. “Can I help you?” he asked gruffly, his blue eyes shining out from skin creased by mountain sun.
“I sure hope so,” Cooper said amicably. “I’m looking for Emma Tyler. Is she here today?”
The man squinted at Cooper. “She’s in trouble?”
“Everyone keeps asking me that,” Cooper said with a chuckle. “Not that I am aware. I just have a message to deliver.”
The man considered that for a moment, then offered his hand. “Bob Kendrick,” he said. “Emma’s inside with my son, Leo.”
Judging by the man’s age, his son was likely somewhere in his twenties or early thirties. Was Emma hanging out with some mountain guy? Was that what was going on here? That didn’t seem her type, but then again, what did he know? Cooper supposed nothing about her would surprise him now.
“Come on, I’ll show you in,” Bob Kendrick said.
FOUR
I don’t have a lot of time to fill you in on how Emma Tyler became vice president of Leo Kendrick Operations, because I’m, like, superbusy.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking, because Dad looks at me like that, too—like I’m a guy with Motor Neuron Disease who is sipping food from a straw, that’s what I’m so busy doing. And that is totally true. But I’m also busy getting ready to go see the Broncos play the Patriots next week in Denver. That requires a lot of high-level thinking and planning for a guy without use of his limbs.
I’m Leo Kendrick, and it’s true that I have MND, and it’s also true that this football game is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It wouldn’t have happened at all had I not come at this like the certified genius that I am. That’s no lie, just ask Stephen Hawking, the famous physicist who also has MND—anyone who has this disease is probably a genius. To wit: First, I had to convince the Methodist ladies to take me on as this year’s charity case. Check. Then, I had to convince them to get me tickets to the game at Mile High Stadium, which they managed, believe it or not, because someone from Pine River knew someone. Check. Better still, they knew someone important and managed to get me into a skybox. I think that’s because I said something like, what is the point of going all that way in a chair if you can’t get into a skybox, and fortunately, everyone agreed about that. Check, check, and checkmate.
So I scored the tickets for me and my friend Dante, who gets his chemo at the same boring hospital where my doctors sit around playing tiddlywinks, but then I suddenly realized that the family van—a former bread delivery truck—was not going to carry my ass all the way to Denver, no sir. So I suggested to the Methodists that they might want to have an auction to raise money to get me a van, and they did, but they didn’t raise enough, so Libby Tyler stepped in and put together this 5k race to benefit yours truly, and the next thing you know, I am the proud owner of a sweet van, man. It’s like a military machine—they roll me into that thing like a nuclear warhead and lock me down.
But you know what I learned? There’s no such thing as true glory without someone coming around to bitch about it. I’m serious as a heart attack right now. Believe it or not, some people actually complained that it wasn’t “fair” that I got the van when I’m not exactly a certified charity, and my dad and brother agreed. My dad and my brother are just too proud sometimes, you know what I’m saying? I’m trying to think of something funny to say about it, but honestly, after all my hard work, it totally pissed me off. So I said to myself, okay, Leo, what does a genius do? A genius arranges everything with a real charity to make sure this van will be donated to people with MND and other assorted jelly-legged diseases when I’m gone.
Oh, I’m definitely going. I mean, it’s not like I know when or anything, but trust me, the tires will still be new on the van when the MND people get it.
I also learned that being a Dudley Do-Right is totally exhausting, and the worst of it was that Marisol wasn’t there to help me. You’ve heard about Marisol, right? The hotheaded sexy Latina who happens to be a nurse here in town? For the last two years she’s been bossing me around and changing my diapers and making sure my bed is set at the perfect angle so I can watch my TV shows. And then she had to ruin it all by having a baby and taking maternity leave, and let me tell you, that little stinker Valentina could not have come at a worse time. But do you think Valentina cares how her entry into the world affects me? No way, man. She just cries and curls her hands into little fists and sleeps a lot. I told that little stinker after football season would have worked better for me, but you know how babies and saucy Latinas are—they wait for no one.
So here’s where things get interesting. Get this—my dad didn’t have anyone lined up to take Marisol’s place, even though she’d been pregnant for like two hundred years, and he said something dumb like, looks like it’s you and me, pal, and I said, over my dead body, which my brother, Luke, pointed out is not a good thing to say to Dad, because, you know, he’s going to have to step over my carcass eventually. But I’m not so far gone that I’m going to let my dad change out my tubes and hose me down and other things I won’t mention here because I might vomit. I guess Dad wasn’t too keen, either, because he found this service, and they send these totally hot nurses out once a day to check things out and do all the stuff I am never letting my dad do. They’re great, but they are expensive, and we couldn’t afford for them to be lollygagging around all day long. In other words, I needed someone cheap to hang around in case I couldn’t work the remote, and who should show up but Emma Tyler?
I know, right? Crazy!
But if you’d lived around Pine River for twenty-seven years like I have, you would know just how crazy life has been for all those Tyler women. It started with their dad, Grant Tyler. Here’s the flat-out truth about Grant—he was a cheat and a player. He hooked up with any hoohaw that would admit him entrance, and there were a few. Emma and Libby have different moms, but at least each knew the other was out in the world. Madeline has an altogether different mom, and she was a complete surprise to them. They were to Madeline, too.
That’s not all Grant did. He practically sto
le Homecoming Ranch from my dad, and then he upped and died and left it to those girls instead of giving it back like he said he would. And he left the ranch in worse shape than when he got it, so it’s not worth as much as is owed on it. So when the sisters all met up in Pine River, they had all these expectations, like they’d really dig each other and could agree on what to do with the property. Anyone who knows women at all could have told them that wasn’t going to happen, at least not the way they thought it would, and long story short, they’re all living up there together trying to get along and figure out what to do with the ranch.
I’m happy to say the Kendricks are out of the running. I mean, sort of. Luke is going to marry Madeline, so he’ll have one foot in and one foot out. But me and Dad? We like it in town.
So aaaanyway, Emma was the last one to come into the fold, and I swear I am not lying when I say it was obvious from day one that she had a thing for me. I mean, she kept coming around and hanging out even before Marisol had her baby. I mentioned this to Luke once. I said, “Emma is totally hot for me,” and Luke said I was taking too many pain pills again, because no way would a woman as kick-ass gorgeous as Emma Tyler have a thing for me. He hypothesized that she was bored in Pine River and didn’t have anything better to do, to which I replied with some ideas that are not G-rated, and I begged Dad to throw something at Luke’s fat head, but as usual, Dad refused to participate in “you-boys-and-your-shenanigans” business.
Joke’s on Luke, because it turned out I was totally right. I mean, who was first in line to hang out with me when Marisol had her baby?
Yep, Emma Tyler. Good—you’re keeping up.
Dad said, “Look, Emma, we can’t pay you anything,” and she said, “I don’t care,” which totally proves my point, because why would she come to this dump if she wasn’t getting paid? But she started coming around every day, showing up at noon, staying until at least four, sometimes a lot later. Contrary to what everyone thinks (well, Madeline thinks), she’s really nice. But she is a little weird.
The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River) Page 6