by Jaclyn Hardy
Rachel shrugged. “We have a website, but it’s pretty plain. I did what I could with it, but we haven’t touched it since. I think Mama just figures that’s more sewing and cooking she’d have to do.”
“Good point. But if you ever thought of making it happen, I can help out. That’s one of the areas I manage for my job: online businesses, marketing, that sort of thing. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.” Patrick leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Okay, what’s next? We had the parade this morning, and I’m assuming there are fireworks tonight. Anything else?”
Nothing but making a fool of herself. “There’s a concert that goes along with the fireworks. It’s a lot of fun. They serve burgers and hot dogs during it.”
“Any chance we can head home for a bit? I want to stop by the mansion to get some pictures for my partners. They’re getting a little antsy. Plus, if we’re going to be here late tonight, I’m thinking the shorts and T-shirt weren’t such a great idea.”
Any chance to get away from people who’d ask her about singing was perfect. Rachel practically jumped up off the bench. “Sure, let’s go.”
Rachel smoothed down her dress, hoping she hadn’t gone overboard. Maybe she should have stuck with jeans and boots. She pulled out the notes she’d written for the concert that night. Thoughts of backing out tugged at her mind, but she pushed them away. It had been too long. She needed to do this.
Patrick came around the corner and stopped in surprise. He looked her up and down, his mouth hanging open. “You look beautiful.”
“You look good yourself.” Good was an understatement. She had to remind herself to breathe.
“You sure we have to go tonight? No one will miss us, right?”
The thought was so tempting. “I wish! But Mama will pack her booth up soon, and I need to be there to help.”
“Fair enough.” He held the door open, and they walked out to the car.
Rachel’s stomach was a bundle of nerves that only worsened the closer they got to town. Maybe she should have stayed home. Sure, she’d never live it down, but at least she wouldn’t die on stage.
By the time they arrived, several of the booths were empty. Rachel made her way to Mama’s.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” Mama smiled and folded up her tablecloth, while Papa carried the tables back to the truck.
“I almost didn’t.” Rachel lifted a cooler, but Mama took it from her and handed it to Patrick.
“Mrs. Peterson needs you at the main tent. I’ll show Patrick where the truck is.” She picked up another case and walked away.
Rachel took a few deep breaths before going to find Mrs. Peterson. The woman stood talking to a few people, but waved them off when she noticed Rachel.
“There you are. You’ll go on third. Do you know what songs you want to sing?”
“I do, but I want to introduce them myself, if that’s all right.” Rachel knew the songs by heart. It was the only way she could get through them. She handed Mrs. Peterson a CD. “Just play the first when I say, and then wait for me to introduce the second before playing that one.”
“All right, sweetie.” Mrs. Peterson glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear. It’s almost time to start.”
Rachel left the tent and found Patrick sitting in a chair next to her parents. She sat down and gripped the seat, trying to relax. She could do this. She had to do this.
Patrick could tell something was wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Rachel’s family was tense, but none of them seemed to want to talk about it.
The concert started, and a group of dancers got up and performed a couple of popular songs before bowing and climbing down off the stage. He clapped, but neither Rachel nor her parents joined in. Had he done something wrong? The next performance was a choir from a local high school that sang a few patriotic songs.
As soon as the song was over, several people in the crowd around Patrick turned and stared at them. He heard Rachel draw in a deep breath, then she stood and made her way to the stage. Patrick’s eyebrows raised. Rachel was performing? No wonder she’d been so edgy. But why didn’t she say anything?
Rachel took the microphone off the stand and stared at the crowd for a moment before speaking. “My grandpa’s favorite saying was: if wishes were fishes. I never really knew what that meant, but I loved the tune to the song anyway. I’ve thought a lot about him lately, and I want to dedicate this song to him.”
An Irish melody began to play through the speakers. Patrick sat mesmerized as he listened to her sing. He’d heard her hum a few times before, but he had no idea she sang so beautifully. The entire crowd was silent, though flashes from cameras went off here and there. Rachel kept her eyes closed as she sang, her white dress making her look even more like an angel than usual. The last few notes of the song faded away, and she glanced over at the tech guy, holding up a hand.
The few cheers that had started up stopped as she began speaking again. “I want to dedicate this next song to my parents. It’s my papa’s favorite, and it’s dear to my heart as well.”
The music started, and Rachel began to sing “God Bless the USA.” Patrick had only heard the song a few times, but he’d always liked it. He choked up as she sang. Glancing around, he could see he wasn’t the only one wiping away a tear. After the last note ended, there was a slight pause, then everyone jumped to their feet and cheered wildly. Rather than waiting for the cheering to end, Rachel fled the stage and went straight to her mom’s arms. Her mom kissed her forehead and whispered something in her ear.
When the noise had finally died down, Rachel sat next to Patrick with a huge smile. Patrick put his arm around her and leaned in.
“That was amazing.”
“Thank you.” Rachel beamed and turned her attention to the next performance.
Patrick took Rachel’s hand as they walked to his car. He opened her door and waited for her to climb in before going around to his side. He started the car and looked over at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were singing tonight?”
“If I said it out loud, I would have passed out.” Rachel sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“The crowd loved you. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place during your second song.”
Rachel smiled. “That’s usually how I react to that song too. It’s got a lot of power behind it, you know? Papa played it for me when I was a little girl, and I’ve loved it ever since.”
“I can see why.” Patrick stroked her fingers with his thumb. “You could really go places with that voice, you know?”
Rachel stiffened. “I’m fine where I am.”
“I know you are. I’m just saying, you could come visit California with me, and I bet we could get you a few auditions while you’re there. People need to hear you sing.”
Rachel yanked her hand away and scooted closer to the door. “California has nothing for me. This is where I belong. Not some crazy stage life where I have to travel from one place to another, never really going home.”
“Hey, whoa. Did I say something wrong?”
“Just leave it alone. I’m fine.” Rachel stared out the window for the rest of the trip and climbed out of the car as soon as it came to a stop.
Patrick tried to catch up, but she slammed the door in his face. He stood there for a moment longer before heading back to the bunkhouse. Maybe by morning, she would be calm enough to tell him what happened. How could he mess up so badly with one simple comment?
Things weren’t any better the next morning. In fact, it seemed that the whole ranch had turned on him. Patrick trudged back to the bunkhouse and packed his things. Until he could figure out what was going on, he’d stay at the mansion. While most of the rooms were still just drywall and bare floors, he still had a place where he could sleep.
Patrick walked past several of the ranch hands, who shot him glares. He walked faster and climbed into his car. Whatever he said was apparently a bigger deal than he thought. He went to put t
he key into the ignition, but stopped. He couldn’t just leave. Not like this.
He walked up the steps to the house and knocked, hoping Rachel would answer so he wouldn’t get any more dirty looks from other people. His stomach dropped when Rachel’s mom answered.
“I’m sorry, Patrick. She hasn’t left her room since last night.” Her expression was sympathetic, something he wasn’t expecting.
“Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?” he pleaded.
Rachel’s mom looked over her shoulder before joining him on the porch. “A few years back, she had a boyfriend who promised her the world. He told her he could get her music career to take off, and she would be famous. I warned her that she shouldn’t go, but she wouldn’t listen. Music was her life. The morning they were supposed to leave, he never showed. She hadn’t performed since then until last night.”
Patrick stood there stunned. Last night, he said the worst thing possible, and he had no idea he’d done anything wrong. But he wasn’t this other guy. He would never do anything to hurt her. Except put his foot in his mouth, apparently. “If I could just explain—”
“No. Just drop it. Please.” She smiled up at him. “I like you, Patrick, I really do. Just . . . give her some time.”
“Okay. If that’s what she needs.” His hand shook as he pulled out a few hundred dollar bills from his wallet. “This is for letting me stay at the ranch. If you need more, I can mail it.”
“I can’t take your money.”
He held it out. “Please.”
She studied him for a moment before she finally took it from him with a smile. “Thank you.”
Patrick left the house feeling worse than before, if that was possible. Anger intermingled with guilt from the night before. How was he supposed to know what happened years ago? And yet . . . heartbreak did crazy things to people. Here he was dealing with his father’s death by going to Idaho to look at a mansion instead of coping with reality. He could understand her flipping out at the mention of California if she’d been that heartbroken by it.
Several trucks sat in the driveway of the mansion when Patrick pulled up. Normally, he would look forward to seeing the progress the builders made, but today it was just more salt in the wound. He wanted Rachel to be excited about the project with him.
The thought of staying just down the road without being able to talk to her was torture. Maybe leaving for California a couple of weeks early would be a good idea. Without internet at the house, he wouldn’t be able to get any work done, and he doubted the price at the hotels had dropped much.
He stayed in his car and called to rearrange his flight to the next morning. He needed time to make sure the contractors knew what they were doing before he left, and he had a three-hour drive to the airport after that. Once his schedule was set, he went inside to see what they were working on and to talk to the head contractor.
Pounding came from several of the rooms as workers put the wood flooring back together. The subfloor had needed to be replaced, but most of the wood itself was fine—something Patrick was relieved to hear.
“Hey, have you seen Keith?” Patrick asked one of the workers.
“Last I saw him, he was heading downstairs.” The man went back to fixing the wiring.
Patrick climbed down the stone steps to find a few men staring up at the ceiling. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?”
“Mold. It’s still too wet down here, even with the fans running all day yesterday.” Keith used his flashlight to point out the problems.
“So, what do we do about it?” This wasn’t the first time they’d run into a snag.
Keith handed him a piece of paper with a list on it. “I got a few estimates for concrete. I can kill this mold, but it’s not going to guarantee that you don’t get it again. You need to seal the basement if you don’t want more problems.”
Patrick hoped to avoid the cost, but Keith was right. He pointed to a name on the list that he recognized from his research. “Use these guys. And while they’re out here, have them do the curbing around the flowerbeds. Might as well get it all done at once.”
“We’ll get right on that.” Keith took a pen from his shirt pocket and circled the name.
Patrick nodded toward the electrician standing at the electrical box. “What about lighting? How’s that going? I’m a little worried that the walls haven’t gone up yet.”
“There’s a lot of rewiring that has to happen. We’ll start on the walls in the next week. As long as nothing else pops up, you should be able to open by September.”
“Perfect.” What a relief. The plumbing would be a pain with the pipes rusting in places, but the electrical was worse. All of the wiring was old, and they’d have to replace everything just to get up to code. “Listen, I’m heading to California for a bit. If you need me, give me a call. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Everything okay?”
Patrick nodded. “I just have some work that needs to be done. I’ve been gone too long.”
“All right. I’ll keep you updated.” Keith shook his hand and turned back to one of the contractors.
Patrick checked on the rest of the projects going on in the house. He hoped Keith was right about opening in September. He wanted everything set before the holidays rolled around. He walked out to his car to leave and paused to look back. So much had happened since he’d first set foot on this property. And while he chose shorts and a T-shirt today, instead of the clothes Rachel picked out for him, he wasn’t sure it would be possible to get the ranch out of his heart quite so easily.
The plane touched down in California, and Patrick hoped it would feel like coming home. But when he walked outside to see buildings everywhere he looked, it was like a bad dream. He hailed a taxi and climbed in, giving the driver his address.
Traffic clogged the freeway. It hadn’t bothered him before—it was part of living in southern California—but it was stifling now. To avoid going crazy, he pulled out his phone to look at some of the emails from work. He let his partners know he was home, and went through marketing figures from his biggest clients.
By the time he got to his apartment, he’d caught up on emails. He paid the driver and grabbed his bags from the trunk. The small apartment he’d purchased three years before felt strange to him. The modern décor that he’d taken pride in seemed out of place now. He missed the rustic feel of the bunkhouse, but he had to admit, he wouldn’t miss sharing the bathroom with ten other guys.
Patrick called his mom and threw a frozen dinner into the microwave. The call went to voicemail, so he waited for the beep. “Hey, Mom. Just called to let you know I’m back in town and wondered if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight. Give me a call as soon as you get this.”
After a quick shower, he changed into a suit and grabbed his keys off the counter. His BMW sat in the carport waiting for him. Now, this was something he’d missed. The rental was nice, but this was his dream car. He pulled onto the freeway and made his way into the city.
Billboards still advertised various celebrations for the Fourth of July, promising spectacular fireworks shows. Patrick thought back to the Fourth as he watched fireworks with Rachel, the perfect night until he ruined it all. But couldn’t Rachel see that he wasn’t that other guy; that he wouldn’t ditch her like that jerk did?
Patrick barely slammed on his brakes on time to miss the truck in front of him. Maybe he should pay more attention to the road. He pushed thoughts of Rachel away until he pulled into the parking garage. He locked his car door and used the elevator to go up to the third floor.
Eric came out of his office and gave Patrick a half hug. “There you are. I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”
“I almost didn’t. Did you get the files I sent over this morning?” Patrick continued to his office and set his briefcase on the desk.
“Yeah, the numbers look great.” Eric shut the door. “I’m just not sure now is a good time to move the company.”
Patrick frowned. “The number
s show how much we can save by moving. Zero rent, lower taxes—it’s perfect.”
Eric sat on a chair and put his feet up on Patrick’s desk, his favorite position. “I know it is, but how are you going to convince thirty employees to up and move to Idaho? It sounds insane.”
“That will be the hard part, unless they work remotely. We could have the corporate offices there and let them telecommute. Everything is pretty much online anyway.” Patrick knew he was fighting a losing battle. Eric was probably right, but after the money Patrick invested in fixing the place up, he wasn’t willing to let go so easily.
Eric studied Patrick for a moment before dropping his feet to the floor and leaning forward. “Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, I know you and your dad were close. Have you even given yourself time to mourn?”
“You think this has to do with my dad? I’ve mourned plenty.” He knew that wasn’t true, but the company had nothing to do with that. “Look, we struggled through the recession a few years back because of the rent and several other expenses. This is a way to get away from all that.”
Eric took Patrick’s computer and pulled up a file before turning it back around. “And we’ve made this much more revenue since then. Money is not an issue. It would cost more to move everyone to Idaho than it would to give them all raises. The board agrees with me. I’m sorry.” He stood and straightened his suit. “It’s just not going to happen. I wish I had better news for you.”
Patrick stayed silent as Eric left. This was not what he wanted to hear after putting so much time and money into fixing up the house. Hours of research on top of that, and they weren’t even willing to think about it. He swept a pile of papers onto the floor in frustration and then buried his face in his hands.
His phone buzzed with a call from his mom. “Hey.”
“I didn’t realize you were coming back so soon, sweetie. Is everything okay?”