by Pamela Ford
“We slept on the couch together,” she said as she headed into her bedroom to get dressed. “Nothing else. But if he had made a move…” She felt a twinge. “It would have taken every ounce of self-control to say no. And even then I don’t think I would have. It isn’t that I don’t know all the dangers and pitfalls of getting involved with Gib…But even when I tell myself we have a movie to make, new careers to chase down, that he’s going to the other side of the world to shoot pictures again, that I’m Elizabeth Gordon and my parents are selling the land his family wants…it’s like, I ignore all of that. When I’m with him, all I want is to be with him. Even if all I can have is a moment. Do I sound nuts?”
“No. Does he want it, too?”
She remembered the desire on Gib’s face this morning, his hand on her arm. “I think so. But he’s dealing with so many issues. And if we get involved, it’s inevitable that he’ll find out who I am. I’ll have to tell him. I can’t see that information doing anything except causing more pain.” She regarded herself in the dresser mirror and ran a brush through her wet hair. “I won’t do that to him.”
“Here’s a novel idea. Why don’t you find a way for the Murphys to get the land? Then Gib’ll be happy because the family keeps the resort, you’ll be happy because you helped them keep the resort, and the two of you can be happy together because you’re finally having sex with each other.”
“That’s just brilliant.” Izzy let out a sigh.
“Ah, by the way, Andrew called last night.”
She spun to face Shelly. “What for?”
“I didn’t answer your phone. Didn’t feel like being the person who had to tell him you’d already found a new guy and were still with him at three in the morning.”
“He called at three?”
“And at two and at midnight.”
“What doesn’t he understand about taking a break?” Izzy picked up her phone and retrieved her messages.
“Hi, Iz.” Andrew’s voice sounded tinny in the phone speaker. “It’s Thursday. Almost midnight. Just wanted to say sweet dreams. Give me a call when you get in.”
That wasn’t so bad.
The next message began to play. “Hey, Izzy. Where are you?” Andrew said. “I just wanted to talk. It’s late…like two o’clock, so…You two are probably having a girls’ night out. And, hey, you deserve it, you’ve been working hard. Be careful about guys in bars when it gets late. They only want one thing. Give me a call. Miss you.”
Izzy fluffed her hair with one hand to help it dry and frowned at Shelly when the next message kicked in. “Okay, it’s three-thirty in the morning and you’re still not answering. I don’t know what you’re up to, maybe your phone is dead, but if I don’t hear from you by the time I leave for work, I’m going to take the day off and head up there. I have a feeling you need me.”
“Oh, no.” Suddenly everything felt more out of control than ever. Izzy put the phone on Speaker and replayed the last message.
“Ack!” Shelly screeched as the voice mail shut off. “He’s probably on his way already! That’s all we need, your ex-boyfriend letting everyone know you’re Elizabeth Gordon!”
Izzy quickly dialed Andrew’s cell phone number. He barely got out hello before she said, “Andrew, everything is fine. There’s no reason for you to come here.”
“I was getting worried.”
“There’s no reason for you to come here,” she repeated. She stepped restlessly across the living room, feeling caged by the continued rain and the topic of conversation.
“I didn’t actually intend to. I have to be on the air today. Sweetheart, why didn’t you call me back last night?”
Sweetheart? She exhaled slowly. “I was asleep. Shelly and I had a couple of drinks and I was exhausted—”
“Izzy, Izzy,” he said patronizingly.
Her face grew hot and she wanted to scream. “Andrew, we broke up. We’re over. We’re—”
“Having a little rough spell?” he filled in helpfully. “Every relationship goes through things like this. Speed bumps, I like to call them.”
Breakups was what she liked to call them. Still, much as she wanted to be brutally blunt, she couldn’t do it. “I know you don’t want to hear this,” she said firmly, “but I meant what I said three nights ago. This isn’t working. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways. Please, Andrew, don’t call me again.”
“HI, GIB, WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND?” Bill Campbell rolled his chair away from the computer on his credenza and faced Gib. “Something change with the land sale?”
“Maybe. I had an interesting visitor the day before yesterday. Made me an offer. I’m not sure what to make of it—haven’t even told my grandparents yet.” He dug Jack Taylor’s business card from his back pocket and held it out. “Ever hear of him?”
Bill took the card, examined the front and glanced at the unprinted back. “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. Especially if he’s not from around here. What did he want?”
“I’ll lay it out.” Gib grabbed a pad of paper from Bill’s desktop and drew a quick map of the resort as he recapped Taylor’s proposal about becoming partners. “Under this agreement, he’d own everything—even our buildings. I’m thinking we should counter. What if we propose that, once he owns the land, he has to sell us the acreage the resort sits on, including a piece of lake frontage?” He circled the areas on the map that he was talking about. “If my grandparents only needed enough money for that small amount of land, would they qualify for a loan then?”
“How many acres are we talking about?” Bill studied Gib’s drawing.
“Maybe a third of the property.”
“You think Taylor will go for it?”
Gib shrugged. “What choice does he have? Without us, he can’t get any of the land.”
Bill drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “Considering everything, the smaller loan would be much more attractive to the bank. That is, assuming you’re moving forward on those other changes we discussed.”
“We’re on it. Almost done with the first cottage—finished painting the last bedroom at two this morning.” In his mind he saw Izzy refusing to leave him alone last night. She’d known better than he what was best for him. “Web site and brochure are in the works.”
“That’s encouraging,” Bill said. “I can’t promise anything, but if a smaller loan is the way you and the family want to go, we may be able to work something out.”
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Gib gathered his family in the screened porch off the second-floor living quarters at the lodge. The storm had passed hours ago and the day was now clear and sunny. Memories of childhood washed through him, the many summer evenings he spent relaxing out here when the work was finished. Surrounded by trees, a view of the lake in the distance, it was easy to feel like you were living high in the branches like a wild bird.
His grandparents were sitting in side-by-side brightly painted wood rockers. He watched them a moment and wondered what their reaction would be to this latest round of developments.
Matt charged through the door. “What’s up?”
“I met with the bank this morning.”
His brother threw him a look that clearly said, Didn’t you hear me about going to Montana?
Matt sat on a wicker chair. “I told the Nelson kids I’d take them on a boat ride, so I don’t have a lot of time.”
“This won’t take long. Some things have happened and I need to get everyone up to speed.” Gib quickly detailed both the proposition he’d gotten from Jack Taylor and the counterproposal he wanted to make.
His grandfather stopped rocking and leaned forward. “You don’t think we can get a loan for the whole place, is that it?”
“Put it this way. You have a lot better chance of getting a loan for a third of the land than you do for the whole thing.” He sat on the wicker love seat and clasped his hands together. “Partnering with Taylor may be the only way we’ll be able to stay here.”
His grandfa
ther’s shoulders drooped and his brow furrowed. “What do you think, Matt? Sooner or later this place is going to be yours.”
Matt’s face froze. “Well—I—” He glanced at Gib, as though asking permission to tell all.
“Go ahead,” Gib said. “Let’s get everything on the table.”
His grandmother rocked her chair harder, as if she knew something big was coming.
“I’m going to Montana this winter.” Matt raised his eyes defiantly. “I’m not going to run the resort.”
“Not this winter, you mean,” Pete said.
“Not ever.”
Catherine abruptly stopped her chair. “Matt?”
“I’ve got a job lined up. I’ve wanted to go for a long time.”
“You talked to us about this way back in high school,” she said. “I thought it was a daydream, not anything real.”
Matt set his chin. “It’s what I want to do. Ski patrol and work on the mountains.”
“You knew about this?” His grandfather scowled at Gib.
“Only for a couple of days. The question is, now that you know Matt won’t be here, what do you think about this partnership proposal?”
No one moved. It seemed as though minutes passed while he waited for an answer. A trio of birds chased past the screen. From down in the yard, Rascal let out a halfhearted bark, probably warning away a squirrel that had ventured too close. Finally his grandfather asked, “What do you think, Catherine?”
She looked from face to face. “I think…I want to go to Arizona.”
Pete let out a too-loud guffaw. “I’m darn ready for a vacation, too. But what do you think about this proposal?”
“I don’t mean a vacation. I mean, I want to move to Arizona. Matt doesn’t want this place and neither do I. I’m tired. Forty years is a long time. I want to retire.” Her words came slow, but strong. “Gib, I think you should tell that Taylor fella that we’re not interested in a partnership—we want to sell the buildings. If he buys our buildings, he’ll become the resort owner. And have right of first refusal to buy the land. Then we can get some money out of this place so we can get out.”
“You want out?” Pete stared at his wife. “When did this happen?”
“It’s been happening for a long time,” she said. “I want to get up in the morning and not think about needing to make breakfast for fifty. I want to go to bed on a Friday night and not think about all those sheets that need to be washed the next day.” She pushed the fingers of both hands through her hair and gazed up at the ceiling. “I know, I get to do that all winter. But it’s been a long time since I got up on a summer morning and had coffee on the porch, read the paper, maybe even took a walk.” She stood and faced her husband. “I love this piece of land, I love the resort, and I love you. But I think this is the end of the road.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m tired, Pete. It’s time.” She went into the house.
His grandfather dropped his head into one hand for a few seconds. Then he sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Gib, for the mess we’ve put you through, but it sounds to me like you have your answer. Let’s see what kind of money you can get from that developer. Maybe it’ll give us something for our retirement.” He followed his wife out of the room.
Gib leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He turned to Matt, stunned. “You mean no one wants the resort? Then why the hell have I been working so hard?”
LATE THE NEXT MORNING, Izzy went into the bathroom and jiggled the handle on the toilet for the fifth time in twenty minutes. “Well, this could be a problem. The toilet keeps flushing itself and won’t stop running.”
Shelly looked up from the kitchen table where she was reviewing the previous day’s footage on the laptop. “Why don’t you call our resident handyman, Gib Murphy? Tell him to wear a tight white T-shirt and some snug-fitting jeans. And that you’ll hand him his tools as he needs them.”
“Don’t be silly. We don’t need to call Gib.” She was about to take the chair next to Shelly when the phantom flusher struck again.
“You’re right,” Shelly said. “I think we need to listen to that toilet flush all day and night.” She picked up the land line and dialed the main lodge. “If you don’t want to hand Gib his tools, don’t worry, I’ll be able to find some time to help him out.”
“It’ll probably be Matt. Or Pete.”
Shelly hung up the phone. “Catherine said someone would be out right away. Want to place a friendly wager on who?” She opened her purse. “Say, a five-spot? My money’s on Gib.”
“This project is really having an effect on you, isn’t it?” Izzy pulled a five dollar bill from her wallet and laid it beside the one Shelly set on the table.
“I am so about to make five bucks,” Shelly said. “Beautiful Boy is not going to pass up the opportunity to see you.”
Izzy felt a tremor of excitement at the possibility Shelly could be right. “For the first time in my life, I’m actually hoping to lose.”
Twenty minutes later, the sound of a vehicle driving up to the cottage sent them both racing to the door. As Gib climbed out of the golf cart and took a toolbox from the backseat, Izzy felt a rush of nervous excitement.
“Is this the welcoming committee?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
Izzy knew she and Shelly were both grinning inanely.
“Just anxious for you to get here.” Shelly strolled back into the living room.
“That was quick,” Izzy said. From the corner of her eye, she saw her friend pick up the fives from the table and give each one a kiss. She’d probably never hear the end of this.
“We aim to please.”
She followed Gib to the bathroom and leaned against the doorway as he pulled the top off the old tank and peered inside. “Probably needs a new flush valve,” he said. “I’ve got a replacement unit in the cart.”
Ten minutes later he had the whole thing taken apart, and much as Izzy told herself to go back to the computer, she couldn’t tear herself away from watching him—the muscles in his arms, the way his shirt hung over the top of his shorts, the way his shorts fit his tight butt, the way his legs—He glanced up and caught her staring and she stammered out some nonsense like, “So that’s all you do to fix it, huh?”
“Not rocket science, but it sure was a smart invention,” he said, as though he couldn’t believe they were actually having a conversation about toilet parts.
That made two of them.
“Now that you’ve got Hickory Hollow almost renovated, what hoop is next?” she asked in an effort to force her mind off him.
He finished what he was doing, then set the lid on the tank and picked up his tool bag. “I think we’re about done jumping.”
“You got the loan?” She felt a surge of joy.
He shook his head and her emotions plummeted. She followed him to the door, fighting hard to hold back her concern. “What happened?”
He grabbed her with his free arm and pulled her close enough to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Nothing you need to worry your beautiful head about, Izzy. It’s okay. Thanks for everything.”
Before she could even react, he was out the door and climbing into the golf cart. “Happy flushing, ladies,” he called.
She stared out the screen after him, surprised by his kiss and even more by his words. “Did you hear that?” she asked Shelly.
“Happy flushing. Nice. I liked the kiss more. And the extra five bucks wasn’t bad, either,” Shelly said.
“Not that. The thing about being done jumping. Something’s wrong.” She pulled open the door.
“Where are you going? We’re supposed to be shooting at Ma Bailey’s brothel in an hour.”
“I’ll be back in time. I have to know if the Murphys are losing the resort.”
“And if they are? Then what?”
Izzy began to run down the road toward the main lodge. Then what? She had no clue.
AFTER PUTTING AWAY THE TOOLS, Gib cut into the w
oods, following the trail that had been worn through the brush by years of guests seeking solace in nature. He hoped he would be as fortunate today.
He veered away from the steps that had been cut into the steep hillside and reinforced with railroad ties. Ten minutes later, after hiking up an incline and cutting across a ridge, he broke out of the woods onto a hill overlooking the lake. His dad had showed him this place when he was a kid; he’d escaped here many times since then, mostly to find peace. This was where he’d come when he learned his parents died, when he’d gotten dumped by his first girlfriend, when he made the decision to leave White Bear to become a freelance photographer. It seemed only right that he came here now, when he was faced with selling off the resort. In a few hours, he would be meeting with Jack Taylor again, this time to propose a whole other arrangement—and if Jack agreed, the hourglass would begin to run out on White Bear Lodge.
He sat on the ground, forearms resting across his bent knees, and gazed down at the lake. Hard to believe in a few months this wouldn’t belong to them anymore. He rolled onto his back and watched the white clouds wisp through the summer-blue sky, memories spilling over him like drops, softly at first, then harder and harder until, like driving rain, pain came with each remembrance. He closed his eyes a moment, then abruptly sat up. Maybe letting the resort go would be for the best. Maybe letting go of the past—all of it, childhood, young adulthood, Iraq—would let him sleep again at night.
There was no reason to put it off. It was his grandparents’ wish, it was Matt’s wish, and it was his wish, too.
A branch cracked behind him and he twisted ’round to see Izzy not fifteen feet away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“HI.” IZZY LOOKED DOWN AT her feet, suddenly feeling like she was trespassing. “I came up to the lodge to talk to you. Saw you cut into the woods…” She made a weak gesture with one hand and let it drop to her side, embarrassed to admit she’d followed him even though he had to know that was exactly what she’d done. She took a step forward. “What a gorgeous view.”