“I’ve been sampling your jams and jellies. They remind me of home. My mother was a great cook, too.”
“Has she passed on?”
“Yes. I miss her terribly.”
“Especially when you need help deciding what to do?”
Chloe nodded.
She’d prepared two more pieces of bread, and cracked eggs into the centers. “Tell Kyle he’d better eat these in the kitchen, or everyone will want one. No time to fix them for everybody.”
“I’ll call him.”
Chloe stepped to the door and motioned Kyle into the kitchen. “Your special order is ready.”
Kyle hurried to the kitchen table, looking like a boy of ten about to devour a favorite dessert.
“Chloe, you have to get Byrdie to teach you how to make these.” He forked a huge bite into his mouth, egg yolk dripping from his lips until he grabbed his napkin and gave his mouth a swipe.
“I watched her make them.”
“Great. Nothing better than an egg in the hole.”
She knew what he was thinking. She purposefully didn’t dwell on the implications, turning instead to the dining room, to see which bowls needed refilling.
Kyle watched her go, feeling all warm and gooey inside. He’d never felt this way about Sherry. Never longed to kiss away hurt and disillusionment, to bring smiles and laughter to heal and lighten the soul. Sherry had been too busy making money to ever allow herself to feel hurt or disillusioned. She’d turned any unfortunate incident into determination to come out on top. And, she considered cooking an old-fashioned waste of time. But Byrdie was right. Rushing into things was no way to make them turn out the way he hoped.
As much as Kyle wanted to be in on the argument he knew would take place today between Greg and Chloe, there was no way he’d horn in—unless Chloe asked him to be there. He didn’t expect that to happen, though. He had to hope she’d make the decision he wanted her to make. If she didn’t … he’d just have head for Houston and tailgate them the whole way there.
Chloe brought him two more eggs in the hole. The only way he could’ve been happier would’ve been to see that fish salesman’s rear lights heading southeast.
<><><>
An hour later, after the dishes were done, Chloe went upstairs and found her door ajar and Greg inside, standing at the window. He turned when she came in.
“You shouldn’t be in here.” Annoyed at his presumption that he’d be welcome in her bedroom, she stood by the door, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But he didn’t.
Instead, he came straight toward her and closed the door.
“I can’t live without you, Chloe. The job, the promotions—none of it means a thing to me without you. Please come home. I’ll cut my hours. I’ll meet you for lunch five days a week if that’s what it takes.”
Chloe stiffened. If he thought lunch was the issue, he had no idea why she’d left him.
“I promised we’d talk, but not in my room. I’ll see you downstairs, when I’m ready to talk.” She opened the door wide, waited until he’d left, then closed and locked it, quaking like an aspen.
<><><>
Kyle sat on the couch, watching Greg pace the living room with his hands in his pockets, an ugly scowl on his face.
Greg stopped at the front door, then whirled and stared at Kyle. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Cowboy?”
“Nope. And I’m not a cowboy.”
“What are you then?”
“Retired stockbroker.”
That drew a surprised look. “For what firm?”
“What difference does it make? I’m retired.”
Greg started to say something, but changed his mind and paced back to the staircase.
Kyle stretched out on the couch with both hands tucked behind his head, trying to appear nonchalant. Truth was, he felt as jittery as a jumping bean. “She’s not going back to Houston. Why don’t you save yourself some time and head for Texas now? Time is money, and you’re losing a lot of time hanging around here.”
Greg didn’t answer. His silence riled Kyle more than an argument would have. A door opened and closed upstairs, followed by light footsteps. Kyle leaned forward enough to see Chloe walk straight past Greg. For the space of a held breath, Kyle thought she might be coming toward him, but she went to the front door.
Kyle sat up. Her expression, dead serious, chilled him.
“We’ll be back soon.” She went out on the porch. Greg followed.
“Chloe, I’ll be right here if you need me,” Kyle called after her.
She leaned back to peer through the screen door, giving him a tight smile. “I’ll be back, Kyle. I promise.”
He had no choice but to believe her. He did a good bit of pacing himself, after watching Chloe get into Greg’s rental and ride off toward town.
Byrdie came into the living room. “They’ve gone to talk it out?”
“Yep. Waiting for the verdict’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“If you can’t trust her to make the right decision, how can you trust her at all?”
Kyle hated when Byrdie was so right it hurt. “She’ll tell him to hit the road.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“No doubt about it. That guy’s history. He’s just hard-headed and doesn’t believe it yet. But he will.”
“I hope you’re right.” She headed back toward the kitchen with a wry grin. “I hear the wildflowers are spectacular right now in Yankee Boy Basin. Why not get reservations for in the morning?”
Kyle grinned. “That’s a great idea, Byrdie. Chloe will love taking pictures up there.”
“Be sure to remind her to take a heavy sweater. Otherwise, you might have to keep her warm all the way up and back. That girl is cold-natured. I assume you’ve seen the socks she’s been wearing.”
He chuckled and nodded. “We certainly wouldn’t want her to get cold, would we?”
<><><>
Pulling away from the Nest, Chloe wondered where Greg was taking them. She was about to ask when it occurred to her she’d automatically left the choice to him, just as she’d always left choices to him in Houston. This situation called for any edge she could muster against Greg’s dominance.
“Where are we going?”
“I have a room at the China Clipper.”
Taking her to his turf. Kyle had pointed out the Clipper on their tour. It was one of the most expensive B & Bs in Ouray, exactly what she’d expect Greg to choose. “Let’s go to the overlook.” She pointed.
“On the edge of town? That isn’t exactly a private place to have a discussion.”
“If people stop, they won’t care about us or our conversation. That’s where I want to go.”
Greg nodded. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
She wanted to laugh. When had they ever done what she wanted to do? Oh, he’d occasionally asked where she wanted to have dinner, or which movie she wanted to see, but nine times out of ten, that choice ended up being moot, after he’d called and said he couldn’t make it. Working late. Entertaining clients. He’d generally made the choices in their relationship, and she’d eventually given up arguing with him when she wanted to do something else.
Chloe wondered now how many times Greg had gone out with Ellen and let Ellen decide which restaurant or movie to see? The thought produced a sufficient amount of anger to remind her that she had to stay in control of this discussion. Otherwise, nothing would have changed between them.
Greg pulled into the parking area of the overlook. Chloe got out and headed for the “Switzerland of America” sign without waiting for him to catch up. When he did, he immediately slipped his arms around her waist, turned her around and tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.
“We came to talk. So, let’s talk. I’m not going back to Houston. Your turn.” There. She’d gotten in the first punch. She tried to calm her breathing, not wanting him to know how nervous she felt.
Instead of a quick r
ebuttal, Greg wandered along the guardrail, peering over the town, his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t stop here on the way into town. I was too anxious to find you.”
“I assume Fran told you where I was.”
“Not at first. Once she understood the situation, though, she told me where you were staying and wished me good luck with bringing you home.”
Chloe didn’t respond. More than anything, Greg was charming and persuasive. As a salesman, it was his job to convince people to buy whatever he was selling. In this case, Chloe was sure Greg used every method at his disposal to prove to Fran that Chloe had made a mistake by leaving him. Chloe would have to talk to Fran later, to see what actually happened. She didn’t buy that good luck wish any more than she bought Greg’s promise to change if she’d go back to Houston with him.
“So, Fran understands the situation. Why don’t you explain it to me.”
“It’s so simple, you’ll be embarrassed to have overreacted so completely. You misinterpreted what you saw in the restaurant. I told you I was with a client. That was true.”
“So you call employees of GCS ‘clients,’ now? How interesting.”
“Ellen Delacorte used to be a client of GCS, working as a buyer for one of the big seafood chains. Her negotiation skills were so good, we asked her to come to work for us.”
“So she’s no longer a client.”
“Technically, no. My calling her a client was a mistake, but understandable, since she hasn’t been with GCS that long.”
“Long enough to get a sales award. I saw her picture—and yours—in the paper. I would think you’d be used to calling her a colleague by now.” Chloe despised his attempt to disguise what he’d done. He couldn’t expect her to accept this flimsy explanation and say, “Oh, well. My mistake. Let me get my things and we’ll go home.”
“Greg, do you kiss all the employees at GCS?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Just stared over Ouray for a long moment.
“I didn’t think so. Earlier today, I decided I had to have this talk with you before leaving Houston. Now, I know I was right. You need to hear my side for a change. I wasn’t enough, so you found someone else. Can’t we just end this like adults?”
“No. I won’t let our relationship end because of a stupid mistake.”
Chloe never would’ve expected such an admission from him. A perfectionist all his life, he insisted on being right. Even when he’d made a decision that led to less than satisfactory results, he’d claim it had been the right decision at the time. In other words—he was never wrong. Hearing him say he’d made a mistake was equal to hearing a politician say he wasn’t the best person for the job.
“A mistake? You’re admitting you made a mistake?”
He looked puzzled. “I didn’t make the mistake. You did.”
Chloe’s anger grew another notch.
“When Ellen was new to the company, I was assigned to be her advisor. She wanted to make a good impression, so she asked me to work with her after hours, to give her a jump start. I admired her determination, her willingness to put in long hours, her business sense. What you saw at the restaurant was Ellen coming on to me. Fran said you left immediately after seeing us. If you’d stayed, you would’ve heard me tell Ellen to stop her advances. You would’ve heard me say that I wouldn’t betray you for any reason. I love you, whether you believe it or not.”
Chloe felt like placing her hands over her ears. He was doing what he’d always done—shifting blame. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d misunderstood. She’d jumped to conclusions. Ellen was to blame, but not Greg, never Greg.
He’d eased toward her during his long explanation until he stood only a couple of feet away. She took a good look into his eyes. Fake sincerity. Something he’d always been good at.
She turned away, gazing across the valley, replaying the scene in the restaurant, watching as Ellen leaned toward him until he kissed her—three times. Smiling. Holding her hand across the table. No mistake.
“Take me back to Byrdie’s.”
“Thank goodness. I knew you’d see reason. I’ll help you pack and we can be out of here in less than an hour.”
Chloe didn’t say anything, just watched as he walked back to the car with a victorious smile. When he realized she wasn’t following, he turned, obviously impatient with her. “Aren’t you coming? I rented a plane—it cost a fortune—but the pilot couldn’t spend more than one night.” He looked at his watch. “We barely have enough time to get there. I’ll have to call and tell him we’re coming so he won’t leave.”
Chloe went to the car, got in, but remained silent all the way back. When they pulled up to the curb, she got out and went straight upstairs, past Kyle, past Byrdie, past three guests coming down the stairs, and closed the door.
Once inside, she raised the window and took several deep breaths of clean, crisp mountain air, gasping, desperate to rid herself of all the angry emotions their little “conversation” had produced. He wanted her to forgive him. To believe his lies about what happened. One minute, he seemed sincere. The next, she could see it was only a ploy to get her to do what he wanted. They’d had something special once. But she knew they could never find that love again.
She might as well get it over with. After all, Greg’s plane was waiting—and she wanted him to be on it when it left.
<><><>
When she went back downstairs, guests were gathering in the dining room for lunch. Kyle and Greg’s angry voices caused everyone to give them a wide berth.
“She’s coming with me, Stanton. Get used to it!”
“Did she say that? I won’t believe it until I hear it from her.”
She waited until they noticed her.
Greg was first to reach her. “Chloe, tell this truck driver you’re going home with me so we can get out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Anger streaked through his eyes, but she managed not to flinch. “I came to Ouray for the Fourth of July festivities. When they’re over, I’ll decide what I want to do next, and where.”
“But you said—“
“You assumed I agreed because I didn’t argue with you. In the past, my silence has meant acquiescence. Not anymore. I will make my own decisions.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.” Her knees quaked. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other disguised her tension somewhat.
“You heard her, Houston.”
Greg glared at Kyle. “This isn’t over.”
She took a deep breath, gathering courage. “I’m here to rest, to think, to soak up some peace and quiet. I don’t want to talk about the past, or the future. I intend to take life one day at a time from now on. Like it or not, there it is. You have a plane to catch.”
Greg stormed out of the house.
Chapter 10
For the rest of the day, Chloe helped Byrdie bake peach pies for the pie-eating contest. She seemed to understand Chloe’s lack of interest in conversation and allowed her the time to think while she rolled out piecrusts.
After the last pies had been tucked into the oven, they started supper—chicken fried steak, steamed rice, gravy, English peas, fruit salad, tossed salad, and for dessert, peach pie, of course.
By the time everyone had eaten, exclaimed over the food, and headed for whatever evening activities they’d selected, Chloe and Byrdie accepted Kyle’s help loading the dishwashers—three of them—then they propped up their feet in front of the fireplace while Kyle piled more logs into the fireplace.
Chloe stretched her toes toward the hearth, loving the fatigue that came from physical work, proud of the stand she’d taken in defense of her new freedom.
“I couldn’t have made it today without you, Chloe. You’re as handy as a pocket on a shirt. How would you like a job?”
Chloe laughed. “I’ll be glad to help, but I’m not ready for another job quite yet. Having to bake those extra pies isn’t an everyday
thing. I’d be underfoot under normal circumstances.”
“I’d be happy to have you underfoot every day of the year.”
Kyle sank down next to Chloe on the couch. His arm around her shoulders felt safe.
She rested her head against his shoulder and wound her arms around his middle, noticing there was more to reach around this evening. She patted his belly a couple of times. “You seem a little lank. Want another piece of pie?” she teased.
He rubbed her hand in lazy circles. “If I eat another bite, I’ll explode. Did Byrdie give you her secret recipe for pie crust?”
“No. We used my recipe this time. What did you think?”
His smile almost split his face. “Your recipe? I thought it was Byrdie’s! It was just about the best pie crust I’ve ever eaten!” He glanced toward Byrdie. “Uh … that is, Byrdie’s is the best, but yours is …” His cheeks pinked.
Byrdie smiled sweetly. “No use trying to back out of it now, Kyle. I know when I’ve been pushed to second place.” Her eyes twinkled when she said it.
“How about a tie for first?” Kyle snuggled closer to Chloe with a contented sigh, then sat up again. “I’ll be right back. He disappeared upstairs. He came back a minute later with a guitar. Sitting on the edge of the couch, he tuned the strings, then began to play and sing, “Clementine,” substituting “Chloe mine.”
Byrdie and Chloe applauded his performance.
“I had no idea you were musically inclined.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He strummed, pausing to pick out a melody, note by note, humming along.
When the front door opened, they all turned to look. Greg came in without a word and sat down in a chair adjacent to the couch.
Chloe shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t flown home to Texas after all. Thankfully, Kyle ignored him and started another song.
While strumming the introduction, he explained how he’d composed the song while he drove mile after mile in his truck, crisscrossing the country, thinking about what he’d lost.
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