Finn shrugged. “Not bad, thanks. I see you’ve got another talent.”
“You mean besides breaking legs?” Grady ambled down the stairs to Finn. “Yeah, I play now and then. Learned as a kid. It’s relaxing. You want something to drink?”
“Thanks, no. I’d like to use your gym, though. I can do some lifting, and I’m going crazy from sitting around.”
The international film star grinned. “Sure. Help yourself. Anytime. Happy to help the walking wounded, especially since I did the wounding. When do you start physical therapy? I can get someone to come here for you. You can use the gym for that, too.”
Finn smiled. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
“I’ll put Jacqueline on the case.” Like everyone at Aspen Creek, Grady pronounced his assistant’s name with two syllables and a perfect French accent. “She’ll get you the best physical therapist in Aspen.”
“Thanks, but you don’t—”
“My pleasure. And, hey, you’re always invited up here for meals. Harris is off on Sundays, but if he’s here, tell him what you want if we’re not having a regular dinner. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Seriously buddy, mi casa es su casa. Same goes if you want to stay up here. I can try to keep the girls from bothering you and make them be quiet, but I make no guarantees.”
“Thanks.” Finn nodded. For a split second he imagined how it could be if he and Bethany got remarried—how he could hang with Grady because they were real friends. He chased the thought out of his head because he didn’t want to get caught up in a future he couldn’t quite see.
Finn found he could only work out for thirty minutes before his leg started complaining and he got too tired. Still, a half hour of weights did wonders for his mood even though he was weak. That’s what days and days of forced bed rest and blunt trauma will do to a human body.
Twenty minutes post-workout, he opened the bathroom door, a thick white towel wrapped around his waist. He had managed to do a decent job of bathing, but his next goal was to get Bethany to help him. It wasn’t an optimal situation, but he fantasized about it anyway.
As he hobbled into the main room, his already good mood scampered up the happy meter. Bethany was at the kitchen sink, staring out the window, in black breeches and paddock boots. He liked how she looked in breeches. She was on the phone. He wanted to sneak up behind her, but crutches squashed that idea. He lurched to her. She turned to him and he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Her mouth was tight and her eyes were the color of slate—this was no light and happy conversation. He turned to get dressed but stopped short when he heard her.
“Dad . . . Daddy . . .”
She was looking at the rug on the kitchen floor and massaging her forehead with her fingertips. Finn’s merry mood evaporated and he wanted to grab the phone and give her father what for. He exhaled loudly and yanked open a drawer and glanced at her in between snatching a clean T-shirt and cargo shorts. After he was dressed—he was getting more adept—he rested his butt against the granite kitchen counter, hands resting on the crutches’ handles. His muscles ached from the crutches and the workout, but he barely noticed that now. Some deep-seated instinct to protect Bethany surfaced, buoyed on a wave of adrenaline. Simply put, Finn wanted to hit something. Or someone. As a surrogate for Tony Fanelli. He couldn’t make out what Bethany’s father was saying, but he could hear his voice.
“I told you, I’ll think about it.” She paused. Continued. “I can’t promise anything right now—I’m in Aspen for the rest of the month.” Pause. She sighed loudly. “Dad! That’s completely unreasonable.” Pause. Louder sigh. “Okay.” Longer pause. “I’ll give it a try. October, how’s October?” Pause. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Yes, I’ll . . . I’ll think about it. I can’t say I’ll give it up entirely, but I promise I’ll show up in October, okay?” Pause pause pause. “Yeah, I’m glad we talked, too. Bye.”
For the first time, she looked at Finn. She shook her head. “Oh brother.”
“Your dad?”
“Yeah. I made nice with him. We’re all made up now. I told him a friend of mine was bidding on Uncle Mitch’s house and asked if he knew of anything Uncle Mitch would especially want or like.”
Warmth surged through Finn’s chest and his mouth fell open. “Oh, honey. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, call your dad.”
“Okay, okay, you’re welcome. This doesn’t mean I’m getting soft on you. I imagine you’re a decent enough architect and Uncle Mitch deserves to have a nice house.”
“Okay.” Finn nodded, playing along with her. This was the Bethany he knew and loved, the terrible liar. She had called her father for his sake. If only she were doing it out of love instead of . . . what was her motivation?
She made a face. “It wasn’t the main reason I called. I’ve been thinking about my actions. This sounds so kumbaya, but—” She sighed with the effort of explaining. “I don’t want to walk around being angry with my dad. He’ll never pick up the phone to apologize or change anything, so I have to. I’d rather have a better relationship with him than prove that I’m right.”
“Good for you. What happens in October?”
“Nothing, if I get my way. But as it stands, my father wants me to come and work for him. He mentioned saving me from”—she air-quoted—“ ‘frittering away my life’ and whatnot. Suffice it to say, he’s not a fan of me being an entrepreneur in the clothing business. Which is the irony of ironies, since he prides himself on growing his home-and-garden empire from one lonely hardware store in Cuyahoga Falls. He thinks he’s going to save me from certain and assured failure. And he’s always wanted me to go into the family business.”
Beth puffed her cheeks and blew out the air. Rubbed the back of her neck. “I plan to get out of it. I plan to figure out something so Dad will stop worrying. As long as I’m making money, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. As long as I’m supporting myself and not asking him for money—and not accepting any money he sends—I can do what I want. I’m going to meet with Jack again. In fact, I should call him now.”
Cormier. Well, that sucked all the joy out of the cabin.
Get over it, McNabb. Focus on her. Focus on what she’s doing for you. Not on your stupid jealous streak.
“About my dad—it’s good to have a gun to my head to get my ass in gear and make a go of the clothing biz.”
She was acting casual, but he knew she’d hate to work for her father. And although Tony Fanelli loved his daughter, he loved having her under his thumb and nearby, where he could keep tabs on her.
Adrenaline coursed through Finn. He wanted to call her father himself. The fact that her father had blackballed him to keep him from getting into architecture programs years ago further crystallized his anger. He pounded the granite countertop. He hissed a stream of air out between clenched teeth, then faced her. “Why is he like this? You’re a fantastic daughter. Why did he give you this ultimatum?”
“You know why. He wants to protect me and keep an eye on me. In other words, control my life.”
“You’re thirty-one! Doesn’t he know how amazing you are?”
“My checking account would indicate otherwise.”
I can fix that, especially if I get the Frederick job. If you’d take me back. “Money isn’t everything.”
“Try telling my father that. If he’d had his way, I would’ve been baptized at a United States mint.”
That made him laugh and his venom lessened. Bethany could snap him out of a dark mood. “I’ll say it once more. Don’t work for your dad.”
“Maybe he’s right.”
“Oh, honey. No. I hate to think of you selling wrenches. It’s not you. Yeah, your life’s up in the air right now, and I’m probably not helping. But you’ll figure it out, and on your terms.” He kissed the top of her head. Then he held up his index finger. “One more thing. I need another favor.”
&nbs
p; “Sexual?” she asked with her tavern wench tone.
“Anywhere, any time.” He cleared his throat and waited for the surprising surge of testosterone to subside. “Uh. It’s Grandma’s birthday and I always call and sing to her. She’s almost blind and can’t see cards anymore. Since you’re here, and she always adored you, I was wondering . . .”
Bethany’s face transformed. Her expression softened and she looked like she did when she talked to Mingo. “If I’d help you sing? Of course. Wait. You sing? You hate singing.”
“But she likes it, so I do it. You’re not allowed to laugh at me.”
“I’m floored. You singing. I can’t wait to hear.”
“I advise ear plugs. Industrial strength.”
Bethany smiled. “How is she?”
“Beyond the blindness, she’s in great shape. She’ll love hearing from you. She still asks about you.”
Bethany’s expression softened further, as though Mingo had become a puppy. “She does?”
Finn nodded quickly, matter-of-factly. “She never accepted that we divorced. She still asks me when I’m going to come to my senses and track you down.”
A minute jolt went through him when he said “divorced.” He should have been completely used to it by now, and usually he was nonplussed. But ever since he had accepted the invitation to Melissa and Nick’s wedding and knew Bethany would be there, and he was spending so much time with her—and slept with her—he’d allowed himself the luxury of hope.
“Mm.”
An impassive response. I know she likes my grandma. That can’t hurt.
“Would you get my phone, please?”
Bethany did, and Finn made the call. After assuring his grandmother that he was getting enough fiber, he said, “Are you ready for your birthday song?”
He and Bethany sang a vigorous rendition of “Happy Birthday” to his grandmother, who laughed, cheered, and thanked him.
“Who else is there?” Grandma Emma asked.
“Bethany.”
Silence stretched for so long, Finn was afraid he’d shocked his grandmother to death. Then she said, “Let me talk to her!”
Finn whispered, “She wants to talk to you.”
Bethany took the phone. “Hi, Granny Emma!”
Finn had forgotten Bethany’s pet name for his grandmother. His ex-wife was the only one allowed to call her Granny. Bethany’s whole face beamed and she was much more relaxed during this call than her last one.
“Yes, it’s really me.” Pause. “It’s wonderful to talk to you, too. Hey, I hear you turned ninety today!” Bethany continued the parade of pleasantries, kidding with the nonagenarian. Finn had missed the way her nose crinkled when she was happy, and the friendship she had shared with his grandmother.
Bethany said to Finn, “She wants to know if you got her a gift.”
“She hasn’t let me give her a gift in twenty years!” he said.
Bethany said to Granny Emma, “Not a thing. I guess turning ninety isn’t that big a deal. And after all you’ve done for him. I guess he doesn’t love you quite as much as we thought. I’m so sorry, Granny Emma.” Pause. “Yes, I would have thought better of him, too.” Pause. “I don’t blame you for being disappointed.” Short pause. “I agree—who knows if you’ll have another birthday?”
“All right, that’s enough,” Finn said loudly. “I should have known better than to let you two talk. Say good-bye, Bethany.”
Bethany laughed, said good-bye, and gave Finn the phone.
He was unprepared for his grandmother’s words.
“Have you come to your senses? Are you going to marry that darling girl and make up for the mistake you made by letting her get away?”
Finn swallowed hard. “I’m not sure about that.”
“A blind person—and I should know—could see you were happiest when you were married to her. I strongly suggest you get your head out of your behind and propose. I say this because I love you, Finny, and I’m at the age where I can’t afford to mince words.”
“You’ve never minced a word in your life! And you’re ninety!”
“Don’t talk back to your elders. And come see me before I go to the other side. It could happen any day now.”
“You’re healthy as a horse.” Finn told her he loved her, said good-bye, and ended the call. He wished he was alone, if only to process Grandma Emma’s command.
Bethany stood, a faraway look in her eyes. “She’s a pistol, as she would say.” She looked at him. Changed the set of her shoulders. “Thanks. It was nice to talk to her again.”
“She’s something.” Understatement-a-palooza. “She was thrilled to talk to you. I bet you were her favorite birthday gift,” he said.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would.”
“And for the record—your singing isn’t half bad.”
“You’re very charitable. And you just heard my entire repertoire.
“I’m sorry, but I gotta put my leg up. Have you already ridden today?” He thunked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “What am I saying, I know you have.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to meet Brooke. I’d like to watch you ride her. I was thinking I could sit at one of those tables alongside the ring and put my leg up. Maybe tomorrow? Would . . . would that be okay?”
Bethany tilted her head and gave him a lopsided smile. “Really? I’d like that.”
“And . . . would you wear one of your shirts? I’d like that. I’d like to see them in action.”
Her lopsided smile broadened into something that beamed. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
Finn tightened his lips and nodded. He had finally said something to her that was completely, unequivocally right.
11
Once they were settled on the back deck with bottles of water, Finn’s cast atop a pillow on his chaise longue, he said, “Tell me more about this horse rescue idea of yours.”
She stared at him. “How’d you know? You were eavesdropping on me and Jack!”
“Sound carries in this thin air. And you mentioned it once in a blue moon when we were married.”
“Then you should know all about it!” She sat up.
“I didn’t hear as much as I would’ve liked,” he said, sounding petulant.
She was annoyed, flattered, amused, and surprised. “I would think my business would bore you.”
“You thought wrong.” He took a glug of water.
“Your interest wouldn’t have anything to do with one Jack Cormier, would it?”
“Let’s leave him out of this.”
She grinned. A sinuous curl of warmth spiraled through her. Finn was jealous of the great-looking ex-pitcher-cum-ad-exec with the devastating New Orleans accent. This day was getting better and better. She smirked at him full on.
“You know his arm gave out. That’s why he had to stop playing. Back to the refuge, please.”
“I thought we were leaving him out of this,” she said, still smirking.
“I want you to have all the facts.”
“That is so considerate, Finn. But if I want to know about him, you’re the last person I’d ask.”
“I’m just saying. He broke down. Dried up. Done. Finito! Got drummed out of Major League Baseball.” He waved dismissively, as if Jack Cormier were a gnat.
“Oh my God, will you stop?”
“I’m done.”
“All right. As you may recall, I’ve often had to look for bargain horses for students whose parents weren’t Rockefellers, and if I do say so, I’m good at finding diamonds in the rough. These kids, riding their cheap horses, would go to shows and clean up against the expensive, imported warmbloods. I found several of these horses through rescues, and as you just pointed out, I’ve always fantasized about having my own.”
“You’re also a great trainer. Don’t forget that. Not everyone can turn those rough diamonds into stars.”
He looked so darn cute and sincere.
“My goal would be to get younger rescues, maybe some mustangs. Retrain them, give them vet care, rehab them if necessary, and sell them. I’d love it if I could sell them to kids, but that would be gravy. Then put the money back into the rescue. There’d be some that couldn’t be sold, and they’d be permanent residents. Maybe some could be therapy horses. But the main point is, they’d never go to the killers.” Her voice dropped when it landed on that last word. Too many horses sold cheaply at auction, only for the buyers to turn around and sell them to slaughterhouses. Beth hated them and hated owners who couldn’t be bothered to find good homes when their fickle, spoiled child had outgrown or, worse, grown tired of a once-beloved horse. That was another reason she’d gotten out of the horse-show game.
Finn seemed to be absorbing every word. Those spellbinding eyes of his were locked on hers, as though he were hearing the most compelling string of words ever.
She sighed. “That’s it in a nutshell. I never thought it was possible, and it might not be, but I have to try. Jack seems to think I can make some real money if I can get some funding, and he’s looking into that. Also, he thinks I could be a designer for an established, high-end manufacturer. Maybe I could keep my name, then go out on my own once I have a loyal following. He’s looking into that, too. Having Amanda as my model and a walking billboard at every major horse show doesn’t hurt—she wears my shirts, and orders have started to pick up because of it. Not only is she a top rider, and students and trainers want to wear what she wears—she’s got the celebrity thing going, and because of this Jack thinks my shirts can be mainstream. You know, not just for riders.”
“Would your dad back you? Do you keep talking about Cormier to make me crazy? Because it’s working.”
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