Tainted Mountain

by Shannon Baker

  Nausea welled in the pit of Nora’s stomach. “I expected too much from him.”

  “I tried to keep it to myself, but I never thought you should have married him.”

  Nora sat up, toppling Abigail from the bed. “Keep it to yourself? You’ve never missed an opportunity to trash Scott,” Nora said.

  Abigail managed to keep from splatting on the floor and smoothed her shirt. “You should have married someone like Cole Huntsman.”

  Age slowed Abigail not one bit. She still held the Flabbergaster Master world title. “What?”

  Abigail stooped and whisked Nora’s jeans from the floor. “He stopped by this morning to check on you. Now that’s considerate.”

  Nora swung her legs out of bed and snatched the jeans from Abigail. She stared at her mother and dropped them back on the floor. “You’re sticking up for an environmentalist?”

  Abigail let out a superior chuckle. “He’s not an environmentalist. He’s from Wyoming. Besides, I embrace the green movement. I recycle.”

  “Do you eat local too? Ride your bike instead of drive? Or do you just throw your empty water bottles into the correct bin?”

  Abigail put a hand on her hip. “Again with plastic bottles in landfills! I’m not a fanatic like you, if that’s what you mean.”

  “For the love of Pete.” Gaa! She had just used one of her mother’s favorite clichés. “Would you go away?” She needed Scott. He provided Abigail Protection, one of Nora’s favorite things about being with him. His deficiencies deflected Abigail from Nora’s failures.

  Scott. She saw his dark eyes twinkling with humor and heard his deep laughter. A slap of pain hit her like a physical blow. She sank back to the bed.

  Abigail grabbed her arm. “No, you don’t.”

  How was it possible her cheeks were wet with tears? Scott didn’t deserve her tears. But he hadn’t deserved to be murdered, either. “I can’t do this alone, without him.”

  Abigail put her arm around Nora. “Of course you can. You’ve always been able to do anything you set your mind to. You’ve got decisions to make.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one thing, you’ll need an attorney.”

  Oh. That.

  Abigail picked up the jeans and folded them. “Sooner rather than later. That podunk Officer Gary said you haven’t been accused of anything yet but we need to be in control.”

  “When they have that Alex guy in custody, it won’t take them long to prove he pushed Scott and then came after me.”

  Abigail tilted her head. “Of course. But in the meantime, you need counsel. I’ve watched enough Law & Order to know that without a lawyer you could be in trouble.”

  Nora tugged against her mother. “I just want to sleep.”

  “I know you do. What you’re going to do, however, is brush your teeth. Then you’ll come out to the kitchen and eat the omelet I’ll make for you.”

  Nora wouldn’t admit it to Abigail, but she did feel better once she showered and dressed. She took the omelet to the deck and only worked through a fourth of the conglomeration before it fell to her stomach’s floor. Leaning her head against the wood siding of the lodge, she closed her eyes to the sun and rested her hand on Abbey’s head.

  Bubbles of worry fought the murkiness of her brain. They needed to begin construction on the pipeline immediately if they—she—was going to make snow on the main run by Christmas. And what about money to pay the attorney?

  Jail and/or bankruptcy loomed unless she drummed up the courage to ask Abigail for a loan. It was impossible to calculate the years of verbal sniping ahead of her for failing badly enough to beg Abigail for money.

  The screen door of the apartment opened and the keeper of Kachina Ski’s financial future, the heel that would grind Nora to emotional dust, descended delicately to the deck. “I was thinking we should get spiffed up and go shopping. New clothes will cheer you up.”

  “My clothes are fine.”

  Abigail didn’t vanish, despite Nora’s fervent prayers to any and all spirits of the mountain. “I don’t want to be indelicate, but you must face the reality of your situation. You’re no longer an attached woman. If you don’t make yourself attractive, you may spend the rest of your life alone.”

  “I’m not in the market for a new husband.”

  “You say that now but loneliness sets in surprisingly fast and it’s not fun. I miss Howard terribly.”

  Nora stopped herself before saying, Good thing he left you with yet another fortune to help you heal. Nora was wicked and no doubt heading for the fires of hell.

  Abigail’s eyes filled with tears and, as if she controlled it, one single drop spilled from her eye. Not enough to ruin her makeup, just enough to make her appear vulnerable and strong at the same time. “It has been an extremely difficult year. I’ve fought every day to remain true to the Stoddard dignity.”

  “You’ve been strong.”

  Nora’s husband died just four days ago and yet, all sympathy and attention needed to focus on Abigail’s loss. Situation: Normal.

  While things were bad, Nora girded herself to ask Abigail for money.

  “Good morning, lovely ladies!” The shout came from across the ski run.

  Saved by the hippie. She blessed the kachinas for their mercy in sending Charlie.

  Abigail’s hiss reeked of disapproval. “Honestly, Nora. I don’t think you should allow that man around here.”

  “I like Charlie.”

  “But, dear, he’s not really … ”

  Nora waited while Abigail trailed off, then finished for her. “Our kind?”

  Charlie stepped on the deck.

  Abigail let out a deep sigh. “You know what I mean.”

  Charlie walked over to Nora. “You are the sun and moon and bring meaning to my life.” He bowed to Abigail. “Your glittering visage takes my breath away.”

  Abigail clasped her hands behind her back. “Oh posh.”

  A black SUV crunched the cinders in the parking lot.

  Great. Visitors.

  Twelve

  Barrett shut the door of the Escalade and waited.

  After a moment he reopened the door and put his head inside. “Staying in the car won’t make me change my mind.”

  Heather glared at him from the passenger side. “I don’t see why I have to do this.”

  “Be on your best behavior or Nora Abbott can make your life difficult.”

  Heather didn’t move.

  Barrett shrugged. “Fine. You don’t have to go with me to ask Nora Abbott’s forgiveness and offer your services.”

  She smiled and sat upright. “Thank you, Poppy. I’ll be good, I promise.”

  “You can wait for the judge to send you to juvenile detention.” Boom.

  Out came that lower lip. “The judge might come up with something besides jail.”

  Barrett raised his eyebrows. “We are McCrearys. We don’t wait for others to decide our future. We take control.”

  She crossed her arms. “What makes you so sure this Nora woman will hire me?”

  “I’ve got ways.”

  “You mean you’ve got money.”

  “Something like that.”

  Heather grabbed the latch and shoulder checked the door open. “Someday you’re going to come up against a situation where money won’t buy you out.”

  She didn’t know he couldn’t buy the one thing he ever truly wanted.

  Heather came around the Escalade and together they walked across the cinder parking lot and up the path to the lodge.

  The girl stopped at the top of the stairs and Barrett gently pushed to move her forward. An attractive blonde about Barrett’s age stood next to Nora and a few feet in front of the woman a decomposing mountain man gulped from a beer can.

  God. Charlie. That dried-up piece of ide
alist turned up every-

  where.

  Barrett reached for Nora’s hand. “How are you, Ms. Abbott?”

  He’d read her profile. Graduated at the top of her class, smart, ambitious, not a bad looker. But she’d certainly struck bad luck with the drought. He’d seen her around town. She carried herself well, her red hair usually shiny, bouncing around a cheerful face with intelligent eyes. The last few days had been hard on her, making her pale and adding a shadow of grief to her eyes.

  Barrett couldn’t afford to feel guilty for causing her pain. Heather’s well-being and protection came first. It was Scott’s own fault he got in the way.

  Nora gave Heather a stony expression but her face softened when she shifted to Barrett. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  Charlie sipped his beer and narrowed his eyes at Barrett. He sank to a bench beside an older dog. “She’s a woman of uncommon strength and breeding.”

  Barrett looked away from Charlie without comment. It was just like Charlie to use that phrase, the old joke the three of them had shared about Ester.

  The classy looking blonde smiled at Barrett. Now here was a woman worth looking at. He held out his hand, enjoying the rush of pleasure when she placed her delicate fingers in his. “I’m Barrett McCreary,” he said.

  Her lips were full, inviting. “Nice to meet you, Mr. McCreary. I’m Abigail Stoddard, Nora’s mother.”

  “Barrett, please.” His blood pumped to places he’d ignored for too long.

  “Barrett,” she repeated, looking into his eyes.

  Thirteen

  The Legend. Barrett McCreary here at Kachina Ski. What was he doing with that Native American girl? She was the one at the courthouse with Alex the Knife Guy. Should Nora run from her or slap her? Either way, she wanted the girl off her property.

  Barrett put a hand on the girl’s back and brought her forward. “I’d like to introduce my daughter, Heather.”

  Daughter? She was more the age of a granddaughter and clearly not of his European background.

  Barrett shot a pointed look at the girl and she glared back. The standoff felt as familiar to Nora as an old movie. Although Barrett and this girl didn’t look at all like Nora and Abigail, the body language was their same tango from fifteen years ago.

  Finally the girl turned her attention to Nora. “I’m here to apologize for my part at the courthouse. I’m sorry.”

  Maybe the girl lost the silent battle with her father, but she didn’t shirk her duty. She impressively held Nora’s gaze and her voice sounded strong.

  What do I do with that? she wondered. Maybe Heather hadn’t actually harmed Nora, but she’d been with a very dangerous man. Her friend had pulled knives, strangled Nora, probably killed Scott. “You’re hanging out with bad people,” Nora said.

  Barrett nodded in satisfaction, apparently approving Nora’s firm stand.

  “Nora!” Abigail sounded as though Nora scalped the poor girl. “Heather came to your home and humbled herself. She deserves your gracious forgiveness.”

  Abigail didn’t need facts; she made them up for herself.

  Barrett shook his head. “Nora’s right. An apology isn’t sufficient.”

  Heather inhaled. “I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happened. But I would like to make restitution by working for you the rest of the summer.”

  No way. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Actually, it is,” Barrett said. “If you’ll agree to Heather working here it will probably save her from time in juvenile detention.”

  Maybe locking her up would teach her a lesson.

  “While she might deserve that treatment,” Barrett said, as though he could hear her thoughts. “I believe in rehabilitation.”

  And I get to have the murderer’s apprentice on my property? Hell no.

  Barrett continued his sales pitch. “She’s a good worker.”

  Heather obviously fought to keep her dignity in the face of what amounted to a slave auction. Abigail in all her evil glory couldn’t have been any worse.

  Abigail focused her feminine attention on Barrett. “What a caring father you are. Raising children isn’t easy.” She probably didn’t know Barrett McCreary steered the course of one of the largest energy companies in the country, but Abigail certainly had the ability to smell money, even in the fresh mountain air. It was a valuable skill, her version of Nora’s MBA.

  Charlie crushed his can, put it in a pocket, and stood. Surprising bitterness crisped his voice. “You’d have to look far and wide to find a more caring father than Barrett McCreary.”

  If Nora could harness the frosty look her mother shot Charlie she wouldn’t need snow-making equipment.

  Barrett chose to address Abigail. “I think Nora is an inspiration to young women.”

  Abigail beamed. “Well, growing up she gave me some challenges, but she turned out well.”

  Just like that Nora felt like the prize pig at a stock show. In the newly revised History According to Abigail, the only reason she’d achieved anything was due to Abigail’s steady parenting. What credit would her mother accept for the financial ruin of Kachina Ski? Nora couldn’t help feeling a connection with the sullen teenager. While Barrett and Abigail focused on each other, Heather and Nora made eye contact.

  Charlie simply produced another beer from a jacket pocket and popped the top.

  Abigail took a step closer to Barrett. “Now, dear,” she said to Nora. “Didn’t I teach you about giving back?”

  What you taught me was to smile, keep my nails painted, and if I acted really pleasant, I could marry rich. Well, it had worked for Abigail—three times. Her mother lived a life of leisure with no worries.

  “I believe your mentoring would be a turning point for my Heather,” Barrett said.

  The poor girl was doomed. With this bull of a father it’s no wonder she raced down the wrong path. Nora looked at her with a smidgeon of compassion. “I really hope you don’t have to spend time in jail. But I can’t help you out.”

  “Nora!” Abigail said.

  Nora shook her head. “To gear up for snow making, I’ll be devoting all my time to raising financing. I can’t take on mentoring.”

  Barrett’s smile reminded her of Dracula. “If it’s a matter of money, we should be able to work this out.”

  Incredible. She’d spent years straining for ever more creative ways to keep Kachina solvent and suddenly money was as easy as turning on the faucet. Even more incredible, Nora felt a real aversion to the obvious salvation Barrett offered. “Actually, I’d prefer to keep this a family business.”

  Abigail’s eyes looked wide in her pale face. “Nora, honey. Can we talk?”

  And leave our guests unattended? This must be serious. “I’m sorry you came all the way out here for nothing,” Nora said to Barrett. She nodded to Heather. “Good luck.”

  Abigail placed her hand on Barrett’s arm. “Would you mind waiting while I talk to Nora?”

  She couldn’t tell if Barrett was pleased with Abigail’s attention or angry with Nora. “Of course.”

  Abigail took hold of Nora’s arm and pulled her into the lodge.

  “What’s this about?” Nora said.

  A bead of sweat appeared on Abigail’s upper lip. “You have to take this offer.”

  Confused by her own reaction, Nora could only say, “Something about it doesn’t feel right.”

  “What other options do you have?”

  This wasn’t how Nora hoped to broach the subject. Here goes. “I thought you might want to loan me the money for a few seasons.”

  Abigail’s voice squeaked. “You have to talk to Barrett right now, before he changes his mind.”

  “Mother, you aren’t listening to me. I don’t want to work with Barrett.”

  Abigail paced across the room and back to Nora. “You can’t get a
ny money from me.”

  Ouch. Abigail had no faith in Nora. She scrambled for other options.

  “You have to keep Kachina. I’ll help you run it,” Abigail said.

  “What?”

  “I’ll be living with you anyway so I might as well earn my keep.”

  “You are not living with me.”

  “I have to. I sold my house in Denver. I sold the condo in Boca.”

  Nora’s stomach started to churn. “What are you saying?”

  Abigail stared out the window.

  “Are you out of money?” Nora hated asking such a ridiculous question.

  “I met a man at church. He had this idea of a great investment and it was making money hand over fist. Even in this crazy market.”

  Nausea pushed at the edges of Nora’s belly.

  “Remember the Madoff news story?” Abigail said.

  “Madoff? Ponzi-scheme Madoff?”

  Abigail nodded and looked sick. “It was something like that.”

  Nora sank onto the bench. “You’re broke?”

  “We’re family. We need to take care of each other. And right now we need Barrett McCreary.”

  Fourteen

  For the third time in less than two weeks, Nora wore her business suit and played the professional entrepreneur. This time the uniform felt more like a collar and leash, complete with muzzle. Four years ago she sold her soul to Kachina Ski for Scott. Today she mortgaged her future to Barrett for Abigail.

  Barrett shook the attorney’s hand while everyone gathered papers and pushed back from the conference table. It seemed that power and money created efficiencies Nora had only dreamed about. In an hour they’d seen two top attorneys, who Barrett had flown in from his law firm in Los Angeles. One was a corporate tax expert who’d magically drawn up partnership agreements ready for Nora’s blood signature. The other was a criminal attorney prepared to shield Nora from any inconvenience associated with being a person of interest in the murder—murder—of her husband.

  In a few short days she went from destitute and alone to secure under the wing of Barrett McCreary’s millions.