Leaving Yesterday

by Zoe Dawson

  “You have an amazing family.”

  He smiled. “Amen to that.”

  Her throat got a little tight and she leaned over, the fresh-from-the-shower scent making her want to get closer. In fact, she reasoned that she could stay with Trace just until he opened the garage. That would put Eden in the clinic and Anzu in school. That would make sneaking into their house all that much easier.

  Chapter 10

  Greg Chamber’s eyes felt as gritty as the Sahara Desert as he finally landed at the Glacier Park Airport. It was quick to rent a car, and he was soon approaching Laurel Falls. He would agree with Rafferty that the view was breath-stealing gorgeous, but the town. Geez, what a rat hole. His stomach got tight as the memory of another shabby town in upstate New York, Port Lavelle, intruded, breaking up his thoughts. His hometown.

  This town had the same run-down quality, the faded, ugly sign of poverty, despair, and decline. Rafferty had been kind in her description of it. His perspective stemmed from living it rough as a kid, wanting more than what a blue-collar job could provide. His father, a dockworker, came home mean, often drunk, smacked his wife and kids around, and didn’t understand the importance of education. He’d been an ignorant and bitter young man. Greg had wanted something different, and back then, confident in his plan to make a better life for himself, he wasn’t about to rely on anyone.

  Greg had gotten his bachelor’s degree in marketing and graphic design and his MBA. When he’d gotten to New York City, he’d taken on the challenge of tracking down his Aunt Susan and found out that she’d been shunned by his family. In their opinion, she’d acted too good for them. But after getting to know her, he found out that his parents, especially her brother, were so wrong about her. She’d done what he had done. Made it on his own any way possible.

  He had never looked back, abandoned the dirt and squalor for a posh apartment in New York City where Greg was making his mark.

  All he could see was how dilapidated it was, the deterioration. He shifted uncomfortably, the reminder of his roots unwelcome.

  He drove straight to the only garage in town. Black’s. Parking, he made his way inside, and as soon as he heard her voice, he readied himself for battle.

  Most of the trip from the airport to Laurel Falls was somewhat of a blur. He was thinking about Rafferty and his conversation with his aunt. Her powerful boyfriend and Rafferty’s father, Ross Hamilton, wasn’t a man to give in to doubts. With a head of silver hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes, he was the forward-thinking CEO and owner of Hamilton Hoteliers, the distinct HH easily recognizable thanks to Greg’s vision and the quality of the hotels, now a global leader in hospitality with many distinct brands. But it was the resorts where the famous chain excelled. Tailored to each and every destination, the lodgings provided a high-quality vacation with top-notch service and accommodations. He’d put together the Travel Wide, Travel Far campaign for them, launching three years and nine months ago, going through the normal procedures and gaining the ad account on his own without nepotism to pave his way. It had been an uphill battle because Greg was an unknown, but through sheer determination and will, he’d won over their marketing VP. Susan had wanted to introduce him to Ross and Rafferty as soon as he hit the city, but Greg didn’t ride anyone’s coattails.

  When he’d met Rafferty, he was impressed by her go-getter, take-no-prisoners attitude. He liked that she could hold her own. Ross had voiced his concerns to Greg when they met for drinks at Ross’s club. He was worried about his daughter’s whim to drive across the country. It wasn’t like her to be so spontaneous, but her tenacity would make her dig in her heels. He assured her father that he would take care of her, and Ross was confident in him coming out here.

  “Where the hell can a guy get a drink around here?” he bellowed.

  Conversation ended and as soon as he stepped through to the back, and he saw her car in the closest bay. Rafferty was standing next to the mechanic, and his protective instincts kicked in.

  The guy had that cowboy quality going for him, but where Greg came from, he didn’t trust anyone.

  Rafferty ran at him and threw herself into his arms, and he clasped her to him, holding her tight.

  Over her shoulder he saw the stud scowl and Greg gave him a hard stare.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Just came out to make sure your car is being taken care of correctly.”

  “Greg,” she said, giving him a quelling look. “You can’t fool me. I told Susan I was okay.”

  “And your dad?”

  “I’m going to give him an update on things soon. I’ve just been preoccupied.”

  He looked over at the mechanic. Lowering his voice, he murmured, “That right? He have anything to do with it?”

  “Don’t go all big brother on me. I can take care of myself.”

  “I have no doubt about that.” Greg knew it when a guy wanted to punch his lights out, and this guy had ass-kicking vibes all over him. He could bring it on.

  “Since you got stuck in Hicksville, I thought I would fly with you to California. We can take in a Dodger game while you take care of business.”

  “I’m quite capable of taking care of business by myself. In fact, I’ve been doing that since I became a big girl. So take your bossy orders and stuff them.”

  He chuckled. Leave it to Raff to push back, but he didn’t acquiesce or back down. He was on a mission and an awesome challenge never discouraged him.

  She sighed and shook her head. Dragging him over to the mechanic, she said, “Greg Chambers meet Trace Black. He’s the guy who’s fixing my car.”

  Trace slipped his hands into his coverall pockets and Greg folded his arms over his chest. Neither one of them giving any quarter. Raff didn’t need someone taking her for a ride. If he could prevent that, he would. No handshake was offered and Greg was fine with that.

  “I think we should go and let Trace get back to work.” She turned to leave, but her cell rang and Greg could see it was her father’s number.

  She looked from Trace to Greg. “You should get that and let your dad know I’m here,” Greg suggested with a smile.

  She nodded. “Hello, Daddy,” she said, walking far enough away to be out of earshot.

  He met Trace’s eyes and saw something completely unexpected. This man wasn’t some laid-back hick, some hayseed. He’d been honed by experiences beyond this small town. Warrior. That was it. The word that popped into his head. Greg was good at sizing people up. He needed to be to be a good salesman. This guy was dangerous, but not to Greg—well, unless he decided to sock him in the jaw, and Greg could handle that just fine—but to Rafferty. It was clear he had his back up about Greg being here in Laurel Falls. That was tough. Whether he had a thing for Rafferty—and what guy in his right mind wouldn’t—Greg wasn’t budging.

  The mechanic could try an end run around him, but that wasn’t going to fly. This guy would have to go through a concrete wall. Him.

  “So, you got this covered, pal?”

  “The repair?” Trace said laconically, his eyes shifting to Rafferty. “Yeah, Slick. I got it covered.”

  “That’s good, because I’ve been authorized to either fly a professional out here or ship the car back to New York City.”

  “You could do either, Slick, but the parts won’t be available for even a professional to fix the vehicle. It’s a custom job.” His sarcasm and the response to Greg’s challenge met and thrown back in his face. He had to respect that about the guy.

  “We’ll see,” Greg said casually, steel in his voice. “Money is no object, but I’m sure you’re aware of Rafferty’s assets.” Greg kept his voice flat and professional.

  Trace’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever the lady wants. I’ll provide the best customer service at my disposal.”

  It was Greg’s turn to narrow his eyes. “With your small-town constraints, I’m confident you’ll do the best you can.”

  “Greg. Let’s go,” Rafferty said, shooting the mechanic a n
onverbal apology with her eyes. She grabbed his arm and dragged him through the garage and out the bay doors.

  “That guy is intense. What’s his story?”

  She huffed a hysterical little laugh and continued to pull him. “Why are you really here?” she demanded once they were on the sidewalk.

  “We just think it’s a good idea to have the car shipped back to New York and get on a plane—”

  “Unbelievable!” she said. “Listen to me very carefully. I am going to stay here and complete the job my father gave me. We’re going to let Trace fix my car when the parts arrive. I like this town and I want to stay.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Greg. I’m sorry you came all this way and I love you for it. I love Susan and my dad for their concern, but I’m fine.”

  He looked back at the garage. “Yeah, I saw you’re fine.”

  She flushed, her face infused with so much red, he was worried about her heart getting enough blood.

  Okay, Susan was right. Rafferty might already be in a little too deep. That wasn’t good and meant he wasn’t going anywhere. “That guy could take advantage of your—”

  “Be very careful how you finish that sentence, my friend. Trace isn’t one of those guys who takes advantage of anyone. He’s providing for his family, his veteran brother who was just recently wounded and his teenage sister who is as cute as a button! His other brother is a firefighter. We’re not in New York City, Greg. This town is amazing and Trace has integrity. Trace served in the marines for God’s sake. I trust him with my car.”

  He was sure she did and Trace Black might be all those things, but Greg didn’t know him, and the world was filled with duplicitous and enterprising people. His military service explained a lot about why he had that hardened look about him. Trace had “been there, done that” in far-off places under circumstances few men could survive. He wouldn’t underestimate that about him, but he would hold his judgment. Besides, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was vulnerable and hurt. She could easily succumb to her emotions. “I’m not going home just yet.”

  “Oh, for the love of…fine,” she huffed, grabbing his arm again, looking at her watch. “Shit. I have to be somewhere, and now I can’t duck…ah…oh, dammit, this is not good timing.”

  She dragged him past this tacky general store and into one of the shabby buildings. “Laura, is Eden busy?”

  The receptionist eyed Greg with a warm smile and buzzed, speaking briefly into the receiver. “Dr. Hudson, you have a couple of visitors. Rafferty and a gentleman.”

  Eden came out a few minutes later.

  This gorgeous thirty-something woman was the town doctor? She eyed Rafferty, her blue eyes speculative. Greg looked over at Rafferty, wondering what set the doctor off.

  “Eden, I hate to be an imposition, but this is a good friend of mine, Greg Chambers.” She nodded to him, her eyes snapping with anger. “Since there’s no inn here, would it be okay if he stayed as well?”

  “Of course. I have another room, but it’s smaller than yours. No bathroom.”

  “A smaller room. That’s perfect. Right, Greg? Or you could drive to Kalispell thirty minutes away and get a room, or even better yet, hop a plane back home,” Rafferty said.

  He gave her a tight smile. “Nice try,” he countered. If she thought discomfort was going to sway him, she was going to be disappointed. He never talked about where he’d come from, roughing it was second nature.

  They got his luggage, and then she warned him about saying anything about why she was here. She would be back and they could talk then. After that, she was gone and he was stuck in a small country-bumpkin room.

  Another challenge for him to overcome and he was pleasantly surprised they had Wi-Fi. He set up on the small desk and got to work.

  —

  Rafferty got to her room lickety-split to take a shower and change her clothes. She groaned at Eden’s scrutiny, well aware Eden noticed she was wearing the same clothes she’d been in yesterday. She made quick work of drying her hair and reverse braiding it. Dressing in ripped black jeans, a black cashmere sweater, and a red buffalo plaid coat, she slipped on a pair of black soft-soled shoes with buckles and grabbed her purse.

  She’d entered Clem’s address in her phone and followed the GPS through the miles of forest, punctuated with craggy outcrops and flashes of streams and a lake.

  She couldn’t believe Greg was here and she felt a twinge of guilt for leaving him, but she hadn’t expected him and he’d made her so angry, acting like she didn’t know what she was doing. She had no intention of buckling under any pressure from Susan or Greg. Even her father. They had her well-being in mind, but she wasn’t ready to leave. She still had to make a decision about the land.

  She sighed when she remembered the look on Trace’s face when Greg arrived. When her GPS interrupted her thoughts, indicating she should turn off, Rafferty had to peer into the gloom of the trees, realizing that, yes, there was a road there. A dirt one, rutted and uneven, but a road. She made the turn and bumped and waddled over it until it opened up to a wide space. A big warehouse was to her left, a gray metal color with skylights. There was a small pond in the distance and a beautiful copse of aspens, rapidly becoming one of Rafferty’s favorite trees. Rafferty could see the hive boxes not far from the warehouse. Clem’s house was to the right, a pretty little cottage, barn red with white trim, an open front porch and a garage.

  As she pulled up, Clem came out of the house, dressed in khakis, a green top, sturdy brown boots, and a tan and brown barn coat.

  She waved as Rafferty got out of her car.

  “You ready for the tour?”

  “Yes, I’m excited, but a little nervous. I don’t want to get stung.”

  “You won’t. Most of them are probably out gathering. They’ll be laying stores for the winter.”

  They walked toward the warehouse. “I’ll show you the bees first, and then we’ll head into the warehouse where I make my different products, including my beauty products. I had this built. It’s eighty by one-twenty and it houses all my stock and prep areas.”

  They bypassed the warehouse and headed to the shaded grove of aspens. “I have one thousand hives and each hive has about sixty thousand bees.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of bees.”

  “Actually, it’s small scale, compared to some. I know someone who has sixteen thousand hives.”

  “How much honey do you get from these guys?”

  “About one hundred fifty thousand ounces. Some of it I sell to packaging companies. I bottle my own to sell in Laurel Falls, and the rest I reserve for the beauty products.”

  “So you don’t have to do anything?”

  “Nope, just check on them. All maintenance. I collect honey in the spring and also get a ton of beeswax, which I use to make ornaments, candles, and sell it by the block. I have a contract with an almond grove to provide bees for pollination from January through April. I then get the bees back and they produce honey for me all summer.”

  “Do you do something with the honeycomb?”

  “Yes, several things, but I try to limit that. The bees get very annoyed at me when they have to rebuild their combs each year.”

  “I guess you don’t want to piss them off.”

  Clem laughed. “Usually, no. They have that swarming thing.”

  She reached one of the hives and Rafferty hung back as Clem donned some gloves she took out of her barn coat and picked up a metal container. She could hear the buzzing as soon as Clem pulled the rack up. She smoked the bees, which acted like a sedative and calmed them down, and the buzzing abated dramatically. “These are Carniolan bees, a subspecies of the western honeybee. They are exceptionally gentle and easy to work with, less susceptible to disease, fast honey producers, and overwinter well.”

  Clem pointed to the honeycomb. “Look at this. If they keep this up, they will have more than enough food for the winter. The combs are packed.”

  “That’s where their
babies grow?”

  “Larvae, but, yes, where they lay their eggs.”

  She pushed the rack in and backed away from them.

  “So I don’t know much about bees, to be honest. Tell me more about them.”

  “Well, there are three types. There’s the queen, obviously her role is clear. She is the egg producer and can lay up to fifteen hundred a day. She keeps her workers happy by secreting a sexy pheromone. They live for about three to seven years. Then we have the drone. Male bees. Their only purpose is to fly out of the nest and deflower a virgin. Then they die. Sorta like human males, only they don’t die after they mate,” she said, laughing.

  Rafferty laughed with her.

  “The workers are the last type. These are female and all they do is work.”

  “Sounds also typical.”

  “Exactly,” Clem said. “Their life is very structured from the moment they emerge from their cocoons. They tend the nursery, construct the nest, guard, and forage. Their life span is around twenty to thirty days.”

  As Clem talked, she showed Rafferty around her well-maintained warehouse, and she was impressed with Clem’s operation. “I tried your honey hand lotion. I loved it. Like you said, it soaked right in and wasn’t at all greasy.”

  “Good. I’m so glad. I made you up a goodie basket with a bunch of my products and some more honey.”

  “Thank you. That is so kind of you.”

  “No problem. It’s payment for listening to me ‘drone’ on about the bees.”

  Rafferty laughed.

  “Thanks for showing me. I’ve never seen bees up close, but have always been fascinated by them.”

  “Me, too. I love bees. I know I’m a freak.”

  They walked back to Clem’s little house and they lunched on BLTs and barbeque potato chips.

  “It’s really sad how Laurel Falls looks so run-down.”