You are exactly the woman a man like me never finds….
If she was so special, then why had he left her?
I’m not who you think I am….
It made no sense. None of it.
It made no sense and it hurt.
A lot.
When she got home, she resisted the temptation to put on her pj’s again and climb back in bed. She went to the kitchen, thinking she’d try focusing on what to have for dinner.
Easily handled. She had plenty of leftovers.
But when she pulled open the refrigerator door and looked at the covered dish full of chicken, at the plastic containers with the salad and potatoes inside, the bittersweet memory of last night overwhelmed her.
She saw him at the sink, scrubbing the potatoes; at the counter, handing her the slotted spoon. She could almost hear their voices, talking of everyday things, could see his smile and the warmth and admiration in his eyes.
Swiftly, before she could feel guilty for wasting good food, she took out the covered dish and the plastic containers and emptied them into the trash.
There. Now didn’t that help a lot?
Hardly. Still, she would never eat that food and she was glad it was gone.
And there was still Riley. She’d promised Emelda she’d give him a call, though she didn’t really feel like talking to anyone right at that moment. Reluctantly, she dialed his number. His machine picked up and relief flowed through her. She left a quick message about the problem at the erosion hole and hung up. There. She’d kept her word to Emelda and she hadn’t had to listen to Riley’s dear deep voice, hadn’t been faced with the possibility he might pick up on her misery and want to know if something was bothering her.
She went upstairs early and lay in bed forever, pretending to sleep.
Sunday, Addy called after church. “We missed you at the service.”
“I just felt like staying home today.”
“Honey, now remember what we talked about. You can’t let yourself—”
“Addy. It’s only been two days.”
“I know, I know. I guess I just, well, I want to make things all better.”
Katie suppressed a sigh. “You can’t. Not right now. I’m okay. Really.” As okay as could be expected, anyway, given the circumstances.
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. I couldn’t possibly talk you into coming on out to the ranch for dinner, now could I?”
“Next Friday. How’s that?”
“And our usual lunch on Thursday.”
“Of course.”
“You call me. I mean it. If you need anything.”
“Oh, Addy. You make it sound as if I’ve got some terrible disease.”
“Sorry. Remember. I’m here.”
Katie almost chuckled. “As if I could forget.”
Addy clucked over her and urged her to take care of herself and finally said goodbye.
Katie spent a peaceful day, reading, taking a long walk, watching television in the evening. She told herself she was feeling better, and she was.
Maybe. In a way.
Monday she went to work at nine, as usual.
Lindy was waiting for her, an avid gleam in her eyes. “Katie. Wow. That Justin Caldwell…total hunk. So did you have a great time Friday night, or what?”
It hurt—that cruel knife, twisting—just to hear his name. “Yes,” she said flatly. “Great.” And it had been, until the end. “And don’t you have work to do?”
Lindy stepped back. “Well, excuse me for breathing.”
Katie knew she’d skirted the borderline of rudeness, but somehow, right then, she didn’t have it in her to smooth things over. She turned for her workstation in the center of the room.
The whole day, she did her very best to keep her mind on task. Neither Lindy nor Emelda asked if there was anything wrong with her. But she caught both of them looking at her, sideways looks of confusion and concern.
That night, at home, she tried to read, but it was no good. She didn’t have the concentration for it, not right then. So she turned on the television and stared at the changing images, hardly aware of what she was watching.
Her mind kept circling back to the central question, kept worrying at it, trying to make sense of it….
Not for another woman. She would have bet every cent she had on that. And not for her money, either.
If it had been about her money, he’d still be there, he wouldn’t have left. He’d be busy sweeping her off her feet, getting ready to propose marriage for real, paving the way at a chance for a big payoff when it came time for a divorce.
And if not for another woman, or for the money, then why?
She simply could not understand.
Why?
Chapter Thirteen
The meeting of the Thunder Canyon Ski Resort Investor Group was scheduled for ten on Tuesday morning, in the conference room at the back of the project offices on Main Street.
It was to be a strictly routine proceeding. As project manager, Caleb would sit at the head of the table and run the meeting, explaining the current status of the project to any investors who happened to show up. He would list the contractors who would supervise construction and assure everyone that the financing was in order and building would be ready to begin in May, right after the gala groundbreaking ceremonies.
Justin arrived at fifteen before the hour—which was fifteen minutes too early. When it came to dropping bombs, it was always advisable not to hang around the water cooler making casual chitchat beforehand. The wrong subject might come up. He’d have to evade or lie outright and that could lead to questions he didn’t want to answer—at least not before the crucial moment.
No. Better to be right on time, go straight to the conference room, ready to blow them all—Caleb most especially—out of their fat leather chairs.
In the lot behind the town hall, Justin parked and turned off the engine and sat behind the wheel, ready to dig into his briefcase and look busy if anyone noticed him just sitting there.
As he waited, he tried to keep his thoughts where they belonged: on the final stroke ahead. On his payback, at last.
Instead, his mind kept wandering to the one subject he had sworn to himself he would avoid.
Katie.
He stared out the windshield and saw nothing but her face: those wide amber eyes, that soft mouth, the shining brown hair.
She’d be at the library now, wouldn’t she? Standing behind that central counter, ready to help any reader who needed to know where to find a certain book. She’d be—
A tapping sound on the driver’s door window cut into his self-indulgent reverie. He turned his head.
Caleb. Damn it.
The older man swept off his big white Stetson and signaled with a jerk of his head.
No way to fake being busy now. Justin grabbed his briefcase and got out of the SUV.
“We’ve got a minute or two before the meeting,” Caleb said, without any of the back-slapping how-you-been-and-good-to-see-you routine that was his usual style. “I want a word with you.”
“What’s up?” Alarm bells jangling along every nerve, Justin tried to keep it casual, despite the cold look on Caleb’s tanned, creased face.
But even if the silver-haired wheeler-dealer had somehow found out what was up, there wasn’t a thing he could do about it now. It was, in the truest sense, a done deal. Justin had the needed proxies in his briefcase and he would make his move.
Caleb didn’t answer his question. “Let’s go inside, to my office.”
They went in the back way, Caleb ushering Justin ahead. The door to Caleb’s private office stood open and Justin led the way in.
“Have a seat.” Caleb shut the door.
Justin stayed on his feet. “Is there a problem?”
Caleb sent the white Stetson flying. It landed on a sofa in the small sitting area. He strode around Justin and pulled out the studded leather chair behind his wide inlaid desk. But he didn’t sit down. He m
oved in front of the chair, pressed his knuckles to the desktop and loomed toward Justin. “What’s this I hear about you breaking my little girl’s heart?”
Katie.
Damn it to hell. He should have known. “She…went to you?”
Caleb snorted. It was not a friendly sound. “Hell, no. Adele got it out of her. But it doesn’t make a damn how I know. The point is, whatever you thought you were up to with her, you’ve messed her over and I want to know why.”
Justin stared at the stranger who had fathered him. This was exactly the way it was supposed to go.
So why didn’t he feel the least bit triumphant? Why didn’t he feel righteous and eager to deal the final blow instead of fed up with this whole thing, fed up and sick at heart, an ashy taste in his mouth?
“I asked you a question.” Caleb craned farther across the big desk.
The words came to Justin, the ones he’d once imagined himself saying. He went ahead and spoke them. He had nothing else to say. “It’s interesting how concerned you are for the tender feelings of your wife’s goddaughter, when you never spared a thought for the woman who did nothing wrong but to love you—and bear your son.”
Caleb blinked. “Never spared a thought. For Addy? I don’t know what the hell you’re blathering about.”
“You’ll understand everything. I promise you. Soon enough.”
“I don’t know what you think is going on here. But I’ll tell you this. You hurt my Katie—for no damn reason that anyone can see. And I’m not going to forget it.”
Justin glanced at his Rolex. “Time for the meeting. I think we should go in.”
Prior to the formal start of the meeting, the investors milled around, exchanging greetings, while Caleb’s secretary bustled up and down the big table, carrying coffee to anyone who asked for it and bringing extra water glasses. A thick blue file imprinted with the ski resort logo of a downhill racer crouched and flying along a snowy slope waited at every seat.
Eventually, Caleb cleared his throat and suggested that everyone sit down. He settled into his seat at the head of the long table and glanced around at the investors. “Well. We have a pretty nice turnout.” There were a few empty seats, including the ones that should have been filled by Verlin Parks and Josh Levitt. Verlin and Josh had thirteen and fifteen percent of the project, respectively. With Justin’s twenty-six percent, that made a total of fifty-four. Three percent more than he needed, as a matter of fact. Caleb added, “Let’s begin.”
Up and down the table there were murmurs of agreement.
And so they began.
Caleb led them through the file. He was pleased—though he sent a hard look Justin’s way as he said it—to announce that the project was a definite go. The financing was taken care of, and the contractors lined up. Justin sat and pretended to listen. He was only waiting for the proper moment.
Waiting and wishing that he even gave a damn anymore. Longing to get up and walk out and let Caleb have his damn project.
But he didn’t get up. He would do what he’d come to do. He would make Caleb Douglas pay in the way that mattered most to him: Justin would take away control.
And wishing was an activity for fools, anyway.
He kept having to remind himself of that.
Ever since he’d met a certain amber-eyed brunette who’d made him start wishing for what he was never going to have.
Finally, it was time. Caleb asked, “Well, gentlemen. Is there any other business we need to discuss?”
And Justin said, “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. There’s the question of who’s going to manage the project.”
The room went dead silent—until Caleb boomed out, “What the hell are you talking about? I’m project manager. We’re all in agreement on that. I’m listed as manager on the limited partnership contract that everyone here has signed.”
There were murmurs and nods down the table.
Justin spoke again. “I have another man in mind. He’s got the experience. Much more so than you, Caleb.”
Beneath his deep tan, a hot flush rushed up the older man’s neck. “I have the experience. And I have everyone’s support but yours.” There were more nods and whispers of agreement. Caleb blustered on, “It’s been a given from the first that this was my baby and I would be in charge. The financing was arranged with that understanding. If anyone tries to change horses in midstream, the money could fall through.”
Justin didn’t waver. “If the current financing becomes a problem, I’ll see that we find another lender. It’s not going to be a problem. As you just spent an hour telling us, the project is in excellent shape. And as to your holding majority support…” He reached in his briefcase and pulled out the two proxies. He tossed them down on the table. “Joshua Levitt and Verlin Parks are in support of any decision I make. Here are their proxies to prove it.”
The flush had left Caleb’s face. Now he looked a little green. Justin could see in his eyes that until that moment, he hadn’t guessed that Verlin and Josh were longtime business associates of Justin’s—or that Justin had sent them in ahead to buy in for specific amounts. Caleb spoke low and furiously. “All right, Caldwell. What the hell is going on?”
Justin only shrugged. “As I said, Verlin and Josh have given me their proxies. I now speak for them. Look the proxies over. Please. You’ll see they’re in order. Between Parks, Levitt and me, we hold fifty-four percent. More than enough to choose a new project manager—according to the terms of the partnership.”
Again, the room was pin-drop silent.
Then Darrell Smart spoke up. “Let’s have a look.” Darrell was one of Caleb’s good buddies, and legal counsel for the project. Justin shoved the proxies toward the lawyer. Smart picked them up and studied them in a silence so total, the crackling of the papers as he handled them sounded loud as gunshots.
Finally, the attorney glanced over the top of his reading glasses at Caleb. “Sorry. Looks in order to me.”
Caleb barely seemed to hear him. He was too busy glaring at Justin. Justin could read what he was thinking as if the older man had spoken aloud. Why are you doing this? What the hell does it prove?
Justin dealt the telling blow. “All right, then. I move that we put in my man as manager. Since I hold control of fifty-four percent of this partnership, what I move, goes.” He granted Caleb a frosty smile. “And since these offices are part of the project, I’ll expect you to turn them over. My man will be here next Monday, ready to get to work.”
There was some discussion—heated, but pointless. In the end, everyone conceded that Justin had the power to bring in his own manager. Caleb was finished as project head.
Finally, after sending Justin lethal looks and offering regrets to the by-then silent Caleb for the dirty trick that had been played on him, the others filed out.
Caleb remained in his chair, his gray head lowered, as the others took their leave. His left arm lay lax on the tabletop, his thick gold wedding ring gleaming in the shaft of winter sunlight that slanted in the room’s one tall, narrow window.
Finally, it was just the older man, slumped in his big chair, Justin, still seated in his, and the secretary.
“Alice, you can go now,” Caleb said quietly, not bothering to glance up. The secretary, looking wide-eyed behind her thick glasses, rose. “Shut the door on the way out, will you?”
Alice did as she was told, pulling the door quietly closed as she left.
There was a long moment where Caleb simply sat there, head lowered as before, arm still outstretched on the table, wedding ring catching the light, giving back that eerie gleam.
Eventually, he rested his other arm beside the first, folded his beefy hands together and lifted his head. His green eyes had a lost look in them, one of shock and dazed confusion. He said one word. “Why?”
The question echoed in the silent room.
And Justin had his answer ready. “Because being the big dog, running everything in sight—that’s what matters to you the most. I w
anted to take away something you’d miss. And I have, haven’t I?”
Caleb still wasn’t satisfied. “Why?” he asked again. “Why would you want that? What the hell have I ever done to you?”
Justin reached in his briefcase again and brought out an envelope. From the envelope, he removed two snapshots. He pushed his chair back, rose to walk down the table and stood over the other man.
Shoving the ski resort file aside, he laid the pictures down, one beside the other, in front of Caleb. He pointed. “That’s my mother, thirty-five years ago, before she met you.”
Caleb stared down at the old, dog-eared snapshot. “Ramona…” It came out a bare husk of sound.
Relentless now, determined to finish this and get out, Justin pointed at the other picture. “That one was taken a month before she died. She came to me, returned to Montana at the end, so I could take care of her, when it was too late for anything else—too late for you to do anything to her that cancer wasn’t going to do, anyway. She doesn’t look much like the woman you knew, does she?”
Caleb raised his eyes then. He’d moved beyond dazed confusion. Now he looked like a man who’d seen a ghost—which, in a way, Justin supposed, he had. His face had a gray cast beneath the tan. “But…her last name was Lovett.”
“That’s right. But after you told her you wanted nothing more to do with her—or the baby you’d made with her—she left the state, just the way you wanted her to. She left Montana and she never returned until she knew she was dying. When she left, she took the name Caldwell. She went by that name for the rest of her life. She put it on my birth certificate. So that’s who I am.”
Caleb shut his eyes and slowly opened them. “You’re…my son.” He said it in a kind of horrified understanding. “My son…”
“By blood, yes. By blood only. You broke her, do you know that? She never could make a real life for herself, after what you did to her, after you threatened to do her serious damage if she ever came near you again, if she ever dared to let anyone know whose child she was carrying.”
Caleb jerked back as if Justin had struck him. “No. You’ve got it—”
Stranded with the Groom Page 15