The Millionaire's Miracle

by Cathleen Galitz

  Bryce supposed it was different when the love of one’s life preceded a spouse in death—as opposed to having her rip your heart out while she was still very much alive. Vi may not stir his blood the way Gillian did—and still could if his reaction to her in a pair of long johns was any indication—but she loved and appreciated him as he was. She didn’t expect him to be in two places at once.

  Or to be perfect.

  Vi was the kind of woman who put her child’s welfare above her own. The kind of woman who felt secure enough about their relationship to let him go on a cockamamy holiday pilgrimage without making a big deal about it. Bryce thought she might even forgive him for the kiss he’d shared with Gillian, considering it an impulsive act of a man just happy to be alive after outrunning an avalanche. Nevertheless, he had no intention of hurting Vi by divulging that particular bit of information.

  She deserved better. Staring at the ceiling in the dark, Bryce promised himself that she would get it, too. That ill-advised kiss would be his one and only indiscretion.

  The sound of drawers opening and closing next door tested that newly minted vow. Hearing Gillian reacquaint herself with her old room, Bryce couldn’t help but wonder what she was wearing. Was she still filling out those long johns with enticing womanly curves? Or had she found some sexy nightie hanging in her closet? Was she sleeping in the nude like him?

  Long after she’d turned off the lights next door, Bryce lay awake thinking. When sleep finally settled heavily on his eyelids, it was only to torment his dreams with a demon with amethyst-colored eyes.

  Bryce wasn’t the only one who had trouble sleeping that night. Gillian thrashed so wildly beneath her covers that she awoke shortly after falling asleep. Bathed in sweat, she emerged from her night terrors and sat up in bed, disoriented. She was shaking all over.

  “So much blood…” she mumbled, reliving the nightmare all over again.

  In her dream Virginia Baron had been young, beautiful and very much alive. And very excited about throwing her youngest daughter a baby shower. Surrounded by balloons and decorations, Gillian smiled as she opened present after present. One was a beautiful receiving blanket that her mother had painstakingly made by hand. When Gillian showed it to Bryce so he could get a better look at the unicorn so intricately embroidered on its satin cover, it ripped in two. That was when Gillian knew that something was wrong with her baby. She started screaming…and screaming….

  Gillian covered her mouth with a pillow. The last thing she needed was for Bryce to hear her crying and rush in to see what was the matter. Fighting the urge to seek comfort in his arms, Gillian tried to calm herself down.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It was just a bad dream,” she whispered into the dark.

  “You can always have more children. Remember?”

  Although Gillian had disavowed motherhood altogether after Bonnie’s death, time had a way of healing the spirit and renewing old dreams. Seeing Bryce in that snapshot with Vi and Robbie had awakened in her a longing that was even stronger than her grief. She admired his willingness to take on another man’s child as his own and seriously allowed herself to consider adoption for the first time. Feeling somewhat hopeful, she slid back under the covers and fell into a deep sleep untroubled by anything more than the haunting memory of a kiss exchanged in the swirl of falling snowflakes.

  Gillian awakened refreshed the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee, bacon and pancakes. She could think of only one better way to start the day, but since the prospects of a long, lovely bout of lovemaking were nil, she gave herself over to her growling stomach with excitement. It couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything for breakfast other than cold cereal or some lousy fast food grabbed on the way to work. Without pausing to do her makeup, Gillian donned a pair of jeans, pulled on a sweater the color of pink carnations, and headed downstairs.

  Looking more like his old self after a good night’s sleep, John Baron greeted his daughter with a fork poised halfway between his plate and his lips.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

  Gillian sniffed the air appreciatively. “Morning, Daddy.”

  She was surprised to see Bryce standing over the stove flipping flapjacks with an expertise that he must have mastered sometime after the divorce. She didn’t remember him having any proclivity for cooking while they were married. Taking her seat at the table, she said as much.

  “Good morning to you, too,” he said, taking umbrage at her observation.

  He approached her with a stack of pancakes hot from the griddle and waved them under her nose.

  “Anybody hassling the cook can always forgo breakfast altogether,” he suggested.

  “I’ll be quiet,” Gillian assured him as she stuck a fork in the top pancake and dropped it onto her plate.

  A moment later, she complimented him through a mouthful of melted butter and maple syrup.

  “This is good. Delicious in fact.”

  Sunshine poured through the window filling the kitchen with a sense of holiday cheer. A feeling of déjà vu came over Gillian as she was transported to a point in her marriage when fresh coffee, good food, small talk and fond touches were the way she normally started the day. Imbued with a rare feeling that all was well with the world, she gave herself permission to enjoy the moment without second-guessing her feelings.

  Only after everyone at the table enjoyed a second helping did Bryce broach the subject of why the two of them made the trip to the ranch.

  “This seems as good a time as any to discuss whatever it is you wanted to talk to us about, John.”

  John agreed. “I don’t suppose it’s any secret that Rose and Stella want me to sell the ranch and move into town, presumably in an assisted-living community or old folks’ home so they’ll get their inheritance.”

  Gillian laid her fork down and opened her mouth to argue with him, but John didn’t give her the chance to mince over his choice of words.

  “Which I understand is pretty sizable if rumors about the value of this property hold true. As a realtor, that’s something I’d expect you to check into, Gillian.”

  Nodding, she let him continue without interruption.

  “Your sisters and I have already had words about what they consider my ‘erratic behavior,’ and they didn’t like what I had to say on the matter. They’re under the impression that I’m some doddering old fool who can be manipulated at will. That they’re in such a dither about the two of you sharing durable power of attorney for me tells me that my suspicions about their motives aren’t entirely unfounded.”

  “To be fair, I can understand how they might perceive an outsider like me as a threat,” Bryce said. “I already told Gillian I’d be more than happy to take my name off any official documents and let you and your daughters handle your own affairs without any interference from me.”

  Gillian was taken aback when Bryce interjected on behalf of two people she knew he despised.

  “You’re no outsider!” John exploded. “Don’t you know I think of you as a son?”

  He wasn’t saying anything that Gillian didn’t already know. Still, as much as she once appreciated the closeness between these two men, it was hard not to resent it now that she was divorced. Didn’t her father have any faith in her ability to handle such matters without Bryce looking over her shoulder? Didn’t he realize what an awkward position he was putting her in, pitting sibling against sibling and ex-wife against ex-husband?

  Bryce was clearly moved by the disclosure, but since neither man was one to linger over sentimental feelings, John simply cleared his throat before continuing.

  “I want you two to take as much time as you need to look through my books and determine the state of my mental and physical health without any outside interference from anyone. And when you’re done, I have a little proposition for you.”

  Gillian braced herself. Sharing a leery look with Bryce, she heard an old line from a movie playing in the back of her mind.
/>   I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse….

  Eight

  It came as no surprise to Gillian that her father was less than forthcoming about his little “proposition.” An expert horse trader, the man had mastered the art of suspense long ago. John Baron wouldn’t be rushed. He flatly declined to explain himself any further other than to say he’d be glad to continue the conversation when she and Bryce had all the information they needed. Then he left them alone to proceed as they saw fit.

  Although naturally better with words than with numbers, Gillian was savvy enough to read a balance sheet and decipher the story inherent in the figures. From what Stella inferred about their father’s recent wild spending habits, she half expected to find the ranch hovering on the edge of bankruptcy. A thorough examination of the books reassured her that the situation wasn’t nearly as dire as that.

  Although her father had always been generous, in the past year her father had donated large sums to just about every charity imaginable and set up a healthy pension fund for Dustin and Bette. In addition he’d set up a renewable scholarship in his wife’s name for high school graduates interested in pursuing a degree in agriculture. He’d also discovered eBay and was spending a small fortune on antique coins and collectibles. In spite of the healthy bite this all took out of his monthly living expenses, John’s own needs appeared to be quite simple. Truthfully Gillian wished he would spend more of his hard-earned money on himself instead of everybody else.

  After hours of scouring the books, Bryce leaned back in a red-tooled leather chair and announced, “Your sisters might not approve of what your father is doing with his expendable income, but it looks like everything is accounted for. Even taking into consideration any questionable expenses, the ranch appears to be doing well. I see no reason why it can’t sustain itself for many years to come.”

  Gillian nodded in agreement.

  “We should probably look into some of those charitable foundations,” she suggested, “just to make sure they’re legitimate. Maybe we can persuade him to focus his spending on those causes that have the greatest need and use their contributions most wisely.”

  When Bryce stood up and stretched, his tight-fitting jeans and dark turtleneck did little to hide his muscles from her feminine appraisal.

  “Listen, Gill,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you or are you not on board with Rose and Stella’s plan to sell the ranch and live off the profits?”

  Although insulted by the question, Gillian did her best to respond in a level tone, knowing she hadn’t given Bryce much reason to think she didn’t agree with her sisters. “I just want what’s best for my father.”

  Bryce looked at her skeptically. “It wouldn’t take much to convince your father to sell out to a developer, and you’d never have to work again. You could be living the high life instead of slogging through day after dreary day of showing housing and putting up with unreasonable clients.”

  Gillian’s eyes snapped with indignation as she leaped to her feet.

  “Look, you don’t have to tell me that selling this ranch is the last thing he wants to do, but there’s more to consider than just the books. I have to think about his health, too. It’s all well and fine for you to stand here and accuse me of being an unfit daughter. None of this will matter to you once you’re back home. I’m the one who’ll be worried sick when I’m hundreds of miles away wondering whether he’s fallen and broken a hip.”

  Unmoved by the emotional fervor her voice had taken, Bryce broke into her tirade with cold, hard logic.

  “What about modern technological wonders like alert monitors?” he asked.

  “They’re wonderful if you live in a city,” Gillian pointed out. “Are you forgetting how long it would take for help to get here even in ideal circumstances?”

  “Home health care is always an option.”

  Gillian rolled her eyes. “Do you want to be the one who suggests that?”

  A personal nurse wouldn’t last more than a week with a man as fiercely independent and contrary as her father.

  “What if, to save his pride, we were to call it ‘house-keeping services’?” Bryce proposed. “Complete with a cook to make sure he eats right, too?”

  It wasn’t a bad idea. And Gillian would have given it more thought had not another modern technological wonder interrupted the discussion as Bryce reached for his cell phone. She noted how his facial expression immediately softened when he discovered Vi was the caller.

  “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  Gillian tried to make the hard lump forming in the pit of her stomach go away by telling herself that by all rights, she was indebted to this woman for letting Bryce come here at all. If she could only stop hating her for a minute, Gillian supposed she might actually like Vi under other circumstances.

  “I’m fine,” Bryce said. “Everything’s fine, but until we get John’s affairs settled and it’s safe to travel, I’m just not sure how much longer I’m going to be stuck here.”

  Stuck here with her, he meant.

  The saliva in Gillian’s mouth congealed at his choice of words. Swallowing became impossible when he asked about Robbie.

  The ugly truth was that Gillian felt far more threatened by that darling little boy than his mother. Seeing how Gillian had been the one to file for divorce, she knew how utterly unfair it would be to begrudge Bryce another woman’s companionship. However, Robbie was an entirely different matter. The idea of him adopting a child to replace Bonnie left a steel blade protruding out of her back.

  “Tell him I’ll do my very best to get him to that Nuggets game.” There was only a short pause before he added, “I miss you, too.”

  Gillian made a beeline for the door, she didn’t want to hear him tell another woman that he loved her. Besides it was hard not to resent how eager he was to return to Vi. She remembered how hard it used to be getting Bryce to take any time off from work to make time for Bonnie and her.

  Having averaged over sixty hours a week at work herself over the past year, she had a better understanding now of the work ethic that had put such a strain on their marriage. It struck her as odd that Bryce hadn’t so much as mentioned his business since embarking on this journey, let alone obsessing about it the way he used to. Although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there were an awful lot of ways that he seemed different from the man she remembered. It wasn’t just that he’d grown so hard toward her, either. He seemed more sure of himself, more comfortable in his own skin. Maybe it was because he’d finally made it to the top of his field that he seemed more relaxed and at peace with himself.

  Safely away from his conversation with Vi, Gillian took the opportunity to call her sisters and leave messages for them letting them know that she’d arrived safely. She suspected that neither one of them would be happy to hear that she was snowed in for an indefinite length of time with their ex-brother-in-law, so she deliberately didn’t mention it. Hoping to delay a confrontation with them until she had all the facts about their dad together, she made another call to the family doctor inquiring about her father’s general health.

  “He’ll probably outlive us both,” Dr. Schuler told her. “That’s not to say that hiring someone to look after him isn’t a good idea. And I’ll run some tests for Alzheimer’s if you still want me to.”

  Gillian thanked him before hanging up. She wondered how her sisters would feel about his prognosis or if they would insist on a second opinion.

  The remainder of the day passed without a harsh word spoken between Bryce and her. Having accounted for the books, they set up conference calls with lawyers, bankers and home care agencies to try to come up with some way for John to remain at the ranch and allow those who loved him to rest easy.

  When dinnertime finally rolled around, Gillian’s brain was mush. Earlier Bryce had taken three big T-bones out of the freezer. While they were marinating, he scooped a path through the snow to the propane grill
on the back deck. Gillian contributed to the meal by preparing a fresh salad and throwing some potatoes into the microwave. When her father finally emerged from his bedroom, he was greeted by the smell of his favorite dinner.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten so well,” he said, savoring each and every bite over the clicking of his dentures.

  Gillian was happy to see he had an appetite. He ate everything she put in front of him, making her wonder if he’d been eating little but what could conveniently be dumped out of a can and warmed up in a saucepan. She also noticed that his hands shook when he held out his plate for more. When he finally pushed himself away from the table, it was to announce that he was glad the books met with their approval.

  “I really do want to discuss some business matters with you, but I’m feeling a little too tired and too full right now so, if you don’t mind, I’ll turn in early tonight and we can talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Sure, Dad.” Gillian’s head hurt from crunching numbers all day and trying to come up with a creative solution that would satisfy her sisters while still leaving her father’s pride intact.

  She walked him back to his room where Padre was waiting. The poor old thing was barely able to lift his head off his paws in greeting.

  After safely helping her father into his recliner, Gillian took a hard look at the man who had always been her rock. Etched into John Baron’s weathered face was a lifetime of hardship and love. Marred by age spots, the wrinkled hands that patted the top of Padre’s head were the same ones that had held her as an infant and provided sympathy at his granddaughter’s funeral. She was suddenly flooded with love for the remarkable man who had built an empire on little more than sheer determination and hard work.

  “Did I ever tell you what an amazing job you’ve done maintaining the ranch all these years and raising three kids all on your own after Mom died?”