by Susan Fox
Leaving Wade to work the corkscrew, Evan glanced around the kitchen. It looked the way he remembered it, with pale yellow walls and brown tiles on the floor. The kitchen table was the same old one where he and Jess used to do homework, but the appliances were new. So was the artwork. He went over to the fridge to inspect an unframed watercolor of horses in a pasture, which was clipped to the door. It was childish, yet the artist had done a great job of capturing a sense of spirit and motion. “Your daughter?” he asked Jess.
“What?” Wineglasses clinked together as she hurriedly turned from the cupboard where she’d been lifting them down.
“The artist’s your daughter?” he clarified.
She saw where he was looking. “Oh. Yes, that’s Rob’s.”
“Your school notebooks were filled with horse sketches.”
“So are Robin’s,” Miriam said. “She’s a lot like her mom. Except Robin somehow also manages to do her homework and get good marks.”
“Our Jessie did keep getting distracted,” her father said, laughing.
Miriam turned to Evan. “Remember how we always had you over for supper before a test? To make sure she studied?”
“That’s certainly one thing Robin got from her father,” Wade said. “She’s exceptionally well organized.”
Glasses clattered together again, and they all turned to look at Jess. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m clumsy tonight.”
“Where is Robin anyhow?” Evan asked.
“She’s at her dad’s tonight,” Jess said.
He’d been curious to meet the girl, and now it looked like he never would. Unless he decided to stay a few days longer. And he might have to, to carry out his mission for Gianni. “That’s too bad,” he said. “I wanted to meet her.”
“Jessica figured we’d be talking grown-up talk, so she sent Robin away to Dave,” Miriam said. “Though I must say the child is almost as mature in her conversation as you were at that age, Evan.”
“It came out of books.”
“With Rob, it’s her dad’s influence,” Jess said quickly.
“Dave talks business with her just like she was an adult.”
“Supper’s ready, everyone,” Miriam said. “Evan, you sit down and take first dibs.”
“My mouth is watering.” By habit, he took the chair he’d always sat in, and the others did the same, which put Jess across from him.
“You’re so polite,” Miriam said. “This food isn’t what you’re used to.”
“Thank heavens for that.” He cut a healthy serving of meatloaf. “I’ve eaten in places where half a quail is considered a sizable entrée.” Soon he had them laughing as he described, in outrageous terms, various Manhattan meals. The funny thing was, he exaggerated only a trifle. Much as he loved New York, the restaurants Cynthia chose did better at feeding a svelte woman like her than a big guy like him.
He reached for the gravy, but Jess had gotten there first. “Nice to see a woman with a healthy appetite,” he commented as she slopped gravy over a pile of mashed potatoes.
“I wear off every calorie. If a gal actually works for a living, she can afford to enjoy her food.” She shoved the gravy over. “I gather Cynthia is fashionably skinny?” Before he could answer, she said to her parents, “Ev’s lady friend is a lawyer.”
“Oh?” Miriam said. “A friend of mine and her husband have a general practice law firm in Caribou Crossing. What kind of law does Cynthia practice?”
“Corporate finance,” Evan said.
“My dad handled commercial lending for his bank,” Miriam said. “But I admit, Bly Ranch books are as complicated as I’ve ever managed when it comes to finance. I’m not quite sure what corporate finance law is.”
“Well, it’s . . . Oh, never mind, it’s not very exciting.” He felt disloyal, because Cynthia’s job was indeed exciting, at least to both of them, but here with the Blys it would make for dull dinner conversation. So would his own job.
When Wade said, “And you’re a successful investment counselor,” Evan shrugged. “I match up people’s short- and long-term goals with a portfolio that best meets them.”
“Sounds challenging. And worthwhile.”
Worthwhile. He’d never thought of his career in terms of worth—not the kind of worth Wade meant—only achievement.
He glanced to his left, then his right, noting the slight tremor in Wade’s hand and the lines beside Miriam’s mouth. Simple folks, trying to hang on to their ranch, provide for their retirement, put something by for their daughter and granddaughter. Simple folks with simple goals. Unlike many of his wealthy clients whose goals were avoiding tax, buying bigger and better businesses, and justifying the cost of owning private jets.
It startled him to realize it could be satisfying to help people like the Blys.
“I’m sure you’re wonderful at your work,” Miriam said.
“I’ve done well,” he said quietly. “I have my own company.”
“An impressive achievement, son,” Wade said.
“But we always knew you’d be a success,” Miriam chimed in.
Across the table, Jess tipped an imaginary hat to him, and the gesture seemed sincere, not mocking. Evan felt a glow of warmth, reveling in these people’s regard for him. They were hardly a demanding audience, but their opinions mattered.
He actually felt as if he’d come home.
It was another startling thought. One that brought another of those disconcerting rushes of moisture to his eyes. He concentrated for a few minutes on eating the delicious dinner and regaining his composure.
Damn it, he didn’t want to mislead these people. He didn’t want to disclose his relationship with Gianni here and now; that was something to be discussed privately with Jess. But he could be frank about his career, and the light he’d just seen it in, thanks to this conversation. “In all honesty, I spend most of my time making rich people richer.”
Jess and her parents exchanged glances, obviously hunting for polite words.
“I know it’s a tough job, but someone has to do it,” he said dryly.
That earned him a few uncertain chuckles.
He found himself wanting to tell them about his pet projects, not so much to prove he had a decent side, but because he figured they’d understand. “My clients aren’t all spoiled rich folks, though. One of them’s a basketball star. LeVaughn Duvalle? Don’t know if you’ve heard of him?”
“Sure have,” Wade said promptly. “That man has real talent. He’s a good team player, too.”
“Yes, he is. Well, we were talking over lunch about how poor his mom, who raised him after his dad was killed in a gang fight, had been. He said he felt almost guilty for making so much money. I had the idea he might want to help other kids who were born with the deck stacked against them, and he was very keen. We set up a scholarship fund for underprivileged kids, the Gimme a Break Foundation.”
He was talking too fast but couldn’t stop. “Another client, who was shattered when her husband was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, set up a foundation to fund a facility for patients who can’t afford proper care.”
Jess beamed at him as her father said, “Very commendable.”
“And rewarding,” Miriam added. “How good you must feel to be a part of those projects. To make a real difference.”
Yes, that was one of the best parts of his job. He smiled at the others around the table. “Your turn. Catch me up on what you’ve been doing.”
After they had discussed the ranch, the garden, and the growth of the town—with the subject of his mother never being raised—Wade said, “And of course Jessie has a grand plan for a business she’d like to start up.”
Jess’s father had given Evan the perfect lead-in. He hated to pump Jess before revealing his mission, but it would seem unnatural not to ask about this grand plan. “I remember that story.” He took a sip of wine as he inwardly cursed Gianni, and the lack of an opportunity over the past couple of days to tell Jess the truth. “What’s the curr
ent plan, Jess?” he asked.
“A riding camp.” She shot him a wary glance.
“Camp? You mean, a place where you’d give riding lessons?”
“Well, yeah, but more than that.”
Her mother raised her eyebrows. “Jessica?” She turned to Evan. “Normally she’ll go on and on about it.”
“I’d like to hear,” he said. Remembering Cynthia’s suggestion that he intimidated Jess, he added, “Though I bet the Crazy Horse would really miss you. I’m very impressed by what you do there. The riding program and the horses are excellent, and you’re great with the guests.” It was the truth, and he hoped it would bolster her confidence and her willingness to share her ideas.
Her smile was warm. “Thanks. I count it one of my biggest triumphs that you’re turning into an accomplished rider.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s my plan. Ev, one day you asked if the guests at the Crazy Horse drive me nuts. Well, no, they’re great, but I’d rather work with true horse lovers. I want to set up a camp where people can come for two weeks or more and focus totally on horses and riding.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes sparkling. Here, in the relaxed atmosphere of her own kitchen, she was finally opening up.
“It’d be no-frills,” she went on. “The guests wouldn’t be playing cowboy on cattle drives, and there’d be no fancy spa. I’d have the basics to stay fit, like massage and a whirlpool, but nothing fancy. Natural, rustic, no luxuries. And the guests would work hard. They’d be on horses most of the day, taking lessons and going on rides. It’d be a boot camp for Western riders, and it’d include looking after your own horse and tack, and learning about communication with horses.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. As a boy, he’d listened to her dreams and supported her, but not really understood. Now, after a few days’ exposure to her horsy world, he had a better grasp of what she was talking about. “Sounds intriguing.” Reflecting, he said, “Is there a market for it? I mean, seems to me a lot of people who are serious about horses are already riding, and the others are more casual about it, like the group at the Crazy Horse.”
She glanced away from him. “I think there’s a market.” The spark had left her voice.
She thought? Seemed as if this was what he’d feared: dreams, with no substance. “You could do an Internet search. See what’s out there now, in other parts of the world. What audience they’re targeting, what programs they offer.” Come on, Jess, he pleaded silently, get your act together.
“In my spare time?” she muttered.
Wade glanced at her, then back at Evan. “Actually, Robin has some ideas. The school term’s almost over and she says she’s going to do some comparative market research this summer.”
“Smart kid,” Evan said with respect.
“Her dad’s been teaching her about how he runs the Wild Rose,” Wade said, “and she’s really cottoned on to business principles.”
More than her mom, obviously.
“I don’t want it to be a place that’s just for the rich,” Jess said. “I want to make the opportunity to ride available to people who make less in two or three months than what the Crazy Horse charges for a week. I think being out in nature, bonding with an animal, learning to be competent at riding, getting fit—all those things—can make a real difference in people’s lives.”
“I think you’re right.” And that was what Gianni had meant about ambiance. If Evan hadn’t been here these past few days, he’d never have understood that. “Are you talking about kids or adults?”
“Adults and families, to start. It’d be less complicated, but once it’s established I’d like to expand to include a kids’ summer camp program. The place would be based on the philosophy that those who can afford to pay more will do it willingly so their fees can subsidize the less fortunate.”
“It’s an interesting idea.” Could it work? If there was really a market for it, and if she got start-up funding, and . . . There were a lot of ifs. “So, what’s your plan?” he asked her. “Where would you locate it?”
“Here. Mom and Pa have put me on the title for the ranch, and I’ll use a corner of it, just up the road, for the cabins and other facilities. We’ll share paddocks and the large-scale equipment.”
And she’d no doubt keep trying to run the ranch while she ran her own operation. Unless she could persuade her father to hire an assistant. “That’ll cut down a lot on your start-up costs.”
She nodded. “And I’d start small. A small lodge with a kitchen, dining room, and office. A bunkhouse for singles and a handful of cottages for couples and families. All designed to allow for expansion over the years in a way that’ll be practical and attractive. A barn, of course. Horses that I can pick up cheap and train. Evan, I told you about Ty Ronan, down in the Frasher Valley, who’s working with rescue horses, healing them physically and emotionally. We’ve talked about me taking some of his horses. I’d get them super cheap, and train them.”
“That all sounds good,” Evan admitted. “It’ll be a lot of work, though, even to get going on a small scale, and it’ll be a hefty investment.”
“I’m looking for investors. If they’re horse people, they get a month’s free stay each year plus, hopefully, a return on their investment when the camp is established.”
“Uh, maybe not so much return,” he said, “if you’re subsidizing some of your guests.”
Her eyes narrowed in challenge. “You’re saying no one would invest?”
Not if their goal was the best possible financial return. He didn’t want to come right out and say that, so he hedged with, “Have you had any luck finding investors?”
“I’ve had a few people interested, but so far no one has come through. Sometimes I get talking to one of the Crazy Horse guests about it.” She added quickly, “Not trying to poach clients from Kathy and Will, but we figure if I get my place going, our two operations will be complementary, and we’ll do mutual referrals. Anyhow, there’ve been a few guests who were really excited. But there’s a but.”
“What’s that?”
“Folks come to the resort and get bitten by the magic, then they go home, it all seems so far away, and they’re back into their busy lives. They lose interest. I never hear from them again.”
“Do you follow up? Send them a business plan? Keep them enthused?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to push. If they’re not really keen, it wouldn’t work.”
He figured it was her job to make them really keen. If she truly believed in her camp, why wouldn’t she sell it to the best of her ability? But maybe she didn’t really believe; maybe it was just another dream. “Do you have a name for this camp? A really catchy, marketable one?”
“We’ve tossed a few around. ‘Boot It’ is the current favorite.”
“Hmm. Not bad,” he said. “It’s cute, but it doesn’t convey much information. That works for a name that’s already well established, but not so well for a start-up business. You know about branding, right?” he said.
Wade and Miriam, who’d both been listening quietly, chuckled. Wade said, “You forgotten you’re on a cattle ranch, son?”
Evan laughed, too. “Not that kind. Well, yeah, kind of. Each cattle brand is unique, right? And the purpose is to identify the animals. Every business needs the same kind of thing. So do charities, like Gimme a Break. Something distinctive, memorable, that conveys the message.”
Jess was nodding, but why on earth didn’t she already have a name for her business?
As he sat at her family’s kitchen table, enjoying their hospitality, his heart sank. Her dream wasn’t necessarily hopeless, but she hadn’t done the tough work needed to make a go of it. He couldn’t recommend it to Gianni. Not as a solid business investment that would in any way rival the ones in his client’s current portfolio. Troubled, he raised his glass. “Here’s to you. I hope it works out.”
Her parents said, “Hear, hear,” and drank the toast.
Then Wade
said, “Maybe we go back to ‘Riders Boot Camp.’ Robin had that idea for the cowboy boot logo.”
“It’s informative,” Evan mused. “Jess, you said the camp would be no-frills? Well, that’s a no-frills name. It could fit, especially with a boot logo. Good play on words: boot camp and cowboy boots.”
She nodded. “It could work.”
“Great,” Miriam said with a smile. “It’s decided. Now here, Evan, you haven’t had one of my biscuits.” She passed the basket.
He took one, added a generous swipe of butter, then bit into a puffy, golden-topped piece of heaven. “Miriam, you could make your fortune selling these in Manhattan. We have bagels and croissants, but nothing like this.”
“Oh, get on with you, Evan. They’re just plain-old baking powder biscuits.”
“They don’t taste plain to me,” he said.
Now that the spotlight was off her, Jess could relax. She watched and listened as Evan ate with obvious pleasure and chatted with her parents. He fit in so well. Better than he had as a boy. Then he’d been skittish, sometimes timid and insecure and sometimes verging on arrogant as he spoke of getting out of this hick town and making a name for himself.
Now he’d achieved his goal and both the arrogance and the insecurity had disappeared.
She wondered, looking back, why she’d been so crazy about him. Maybe because he’d been the underdog, the stray puppy. When he moved to town, she befriended him and he became hers, in rather the same way as Rascal, the first foal her father had helped her train. What kind of love was that?
But that wasn’t all there’d been to it. It was the things like her tenth-grade speech and Mrs. Gutterson’s window. At heart, Evan had been a nice boy, and he’d been there for her as much as she’d been there for him. They might have been as different as night and day, but it took both night and day to make up a proper twenty-four hours.
Now, when she looked at the adult Evan—did he always have to look so good, whether it was in worn designer jeans or a crisp white shirt with rolled sleeves?—or when their bodies touched, her feelings came alive in a way she hadn’t experienced in ten years. Was it just the old emotions, an echo of past longing? Somehow Jess didn’t think so. Sure, her old affection for Evan was mixed in, but now she was looking at a grown man she barely knew. It was this man she was attracted to, this man she wanted to get to know. This man she wanted to touch. She remembered the press of his aroused body against hers. A shiver wrenched through her.