by Dani Collins
She made a little choking noise. “What choice do I have?”
He could think of a thousand ways she could come at him, but he would block every one of them. She knew it, too. He could see it in her eyes. The defeat. Not the kind where you picked yourself up and said, ‘Next time,’ either. The kind of loss that went bone deep.
Something teetered in him. This wasn’t a contest where there was only one winner. Couldn’t be. That wasn’t good for Sky.
“I’ll tell her she has to go to breakfast. That I think it’s best.” Her tone of quiet dignity sheared against his conscience.
Trigg didn’t let up when he wanted something, but he wasn’t a bully. “I’ll tell her I didn’t give you a choice.”
“Either way, I failed to stand up for her.”
“Wren…” He held up an open palm. He wasn’t trying to destroy her relationship with Sky, but, “You’ve had her all this time. It’s my turn.”
“I know that.” Her voice held a scrape. “You think I haven’t spent a decade working through every scenario, trying to come to terms with the fact that if she met her father, he might take her from me? And I might have to let him? For her sake?”
Her profile was pale and vulnerable and young. He kept forgetting how damned young she was. He’d been trying to ignore how feminine she was with her flouncy skirt and her breasts plumped against the snug tank, playing peek-a-boo behind the fall of yellow. He wanted to view her as an adversary to be conquered, but she struck him as someone to be protected. Delicate.
“Look.” He tried a different tactic. “You’ve had a lot to carry all those years. This is a chance to—”
“Don’t.” She snapped her head around, expression still stark, but hard. Hard as any resolve or purpose he might possess within him. “Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. I’m doing you one by letting her hate me so she might actually turn to you. You’re welcome.” Her voice cracked and she turned toward the door again.
He lifted his hand again, but had to let her go.
He stood there for a long minute, going over their conversation the way he would if he’d had a bad run. Where had he miscalculated? How did he fix it for next time?
Murphy nudged his thigh.
Trigg gave his ear a ruffle, then finished dressing and left the dog in his room. Murphy had already been out for a sniff and a pee. He’d be fine for an hour.
The dining room was pretty quiet since it was early and a Saturday. Tradesmen were getting the message about using the carry-out window on their way to the base. There were only two tables with guests and a carpenter filling his travel mug before heading upstairs to finish the lodge rooms before the wedding.
Wren and Sky were at the buffet. Nate was ahead of them and already filling his plate.
“I thought you brought your Swedish home last night,” Trigg said, glancing for Ilke.
“She’s sleeping in. Then laundry, gym, check in with the boss before we get Aiden. She said to tell you she’d take the dog for a run if you want.”
“She’ll have to ask my daughter.” Trigg’s heart turned over as he said it aloud, but the dizzying sensation was a lot like when he got to the bottom of the half-pipe after a flawless run. Being a father wasn’t the result of a blood test anymore. It was a real thing inside him that was both powerful, yet made him feel oddly susceptible. Like he had inadvertently left a flank open.
Nate paused in shaking hot sauce across his scrambled eggs to give Sky a nod of acknowledgment. “I’ll let her know.”
Sky reddened and glared blame into the side of Wren’s head.
Wren said nothing, didn’t even send a sarcastic, You’re welcome his way. Her expression was so unreadable, it was spooky.
“Sit with us,” he said, wanting her to realize he wasn’t trying to carve her out of Sky’s life completely.
Her response was a barely perceptible nod, one that agreed to comply with an order.
The energy coming off Sky was downright blistering. She put one triangle of toast on her plate and followed Wren. They sat across from Nate.
“Have fun at Eden’s last night?” Nate asked Wren, proving how he excelled at his job. No matter what Nate faced, he kept cool.
Wren nodded. “She’s really funny. Such a good artist.”
“Yeah, she sings and plays a bunch of instruments, makes great food at the coffee shop. How is one person so good at so many things?”
“Wait until you see the wedding cake.”
“Yeah?”
Rolf arrived as Trigg was pulling out the chair next to Nate’s. Rolf rapped the end of the table with his knuckles as he went by. “I read it. Looks good.”
“The press release,” Trigg explained when Wren looked up.
Sky sent another round of death rays into the side of Wren’s face.
Okay. That was starting to bother him. Time to get her antagonism pointed at someone who could take it.
“Good news,” Trigg said as Rolf pulled out the chair at the table beside them. “We’re getting help at the base. For the foreseeable future, actually.”
Rolf sent him a dry look that asked if he knew what he was doing.
Trigg responded the way he always did, with a shit-eating grin that claimed of course he did.
He never did.
“You’ll want to eat a bigger breakfast,” Trigg told Sky. “No break ’til lunch.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“With a natural talent like that, we’ll put you in charge of scheduling.”
Sky wasn’t amused. She looked to Wren. “You said we would find the movie theater today.”
“I guess it’s laundry day.” Wren didn’t lift her eyes off her plate. “We’ll do that tomorrow.”
Trigg wanted to tell her to take a proper day off, enjoy herself. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.
“Ilke and I are taking Aiden to a movie in Kalispell on Sunday. Come with us,” Nate offered. “It’s a multiplex. You don’t have to watch the cartoon.”
“I’ll look it up. See what’s playing.” Wren smiled. “Thank you.”
Sky looked like she was plotting a murder.
“Finished?” Trigg asked her. “Get Murphy from my room. Meet me outside.” Trigg stabbed his last cubes of hash browns.
Sky glared at him.
“Leave him for Ilke, then?”
Sky curled her lip and rose. He told her the code and reminded her to use the service stairs or go through the outside door. His mother didn’t like the dog coming through the lobby.
As Sky walked out, Trigg reached to finish his coffee.
“Take some yogurt,” Nate advised. “A hungry kid never cooperates.”
“She likes the strawberry-vanilla ones,” Wren said, but didn’t look up and didn’t say anything else, not even, ‘Have a nice day.’
*
Sky was so mad. Auntie Wren had come back from talking to Trigg wearing her blanky-blank face. She said all those same things about this was what Sky wanted and swore she wasn’t punishing Sky for last night, but that’s how it felt.
And Trigg—no way she was calling him ‘Dad’—was worse. Auntie Wren could go ahead and put her in foster care if she was just going to abandon her to him.
Nate drove Rolf down to the base in a truck that had the Whiskey Jack logo on the door, but Trigg made her walk with him. She thought it was to wear out Murphy, but halfway there he said, “You need better shoes. We’re going to be doing a lot of hiking. Johanssons are like dogs. You gotta run ’em or they get aggressive.”
“Is that what’s wrong with you?”
“Better believe it. I’m used to training six hours a day. Riding a desk is making me crazy. At least I walk the site a lot. You should have seen your uncle when he retired. I was going to kill him as a public service. Still might.” He winked.
She had expected him to tell her she was being disrespectful. She kept to herself that she always felt better when she ran on the treadmill for an hour.
The
y reached the base, which was busy with traffic and workers, but inside the trailer only Nate was working on his computer and Rolf was at his desk.
Trigg brought her into their office and pointed her to take the chair pushed against the wall. He used his foot to slide an open box toward her. “Go through this. Pick out the ones you like.”
“Vivien already made me look at clothes. I like my hoodie.” Try and take it. I will hurt you.
“I didn’t say you could have any of it, princess. I said pick out what you like. It’s time to approve Wikinger’s colors and styles for next year. If your picks sell well, I’ll arrange for you to meet with our designers to work on a line that appeals to your demographic. Kids your age.”
“I know what demographic means.” Was he being serious? Because she didn’t plan to be here next week, let alone long enough to design something.
Although, that did sound cool. How did it even work? Would she be able to say she wanted jeans with pockets that actually fit her phone? Because it made her so mad when she got new jeans and the pockets were barely big enough for a lip gloss. Or fake. That put her right over the edge.
“Do you know what ‘brand ambassador’ means?” Trigg asked. “Because you’re going to get a lot of attention soon. You should wear the logo that feeds you.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “So…Blue Spruce Lodge?”
“It would be better than that security blanket you’re wearing.”
Rude. She sat on her hands and stared at him while he typed something into his computer. It chimed with emails.
She was determined not to cooperate, but couldn’t help wondering how much free stuff she could get. What if she had her own lip gloss with her name on it? That would be hilarious.
“I’m Team Wren,” Rolf said. He had a stack of papers in front of him and signed one, then flipped it like a page, leaving it face down and off to the side so he could read the one underneath. He pointed the end of his pen at Sky. “Which means you can’t ask her to leave and you—” he pointed at Trigg “—can’t drive her out. Or the other way around.” The pen came back to Sky. “No more messes like yesterday.”
God, he was good at staring contests. Sky realized the pain in her spine was from pressing it into the back of her chair. It hurt, but she held and held his stare until her eyes started to sting.
“He means he’s Team Glory,” Trigg said, giving her an excuse to look away and blink and straighten her back. “Glory doesn’t want to work the front desk unless it’s an emergency. Don’t create emergencies.”
“That, too. But I like Wren. She makes good coffee. Doesn’t yammer.” Rolf flipped another stapled bunch of papers. “Whatever pissing match you two get into, leave Wren out of it.”
“It pains me to agree with him, but I have to,” Trigg said. “If you want to pick a fight, go after someone who can take it.” Trigg nodded at Rolf. “Like him.”
“You can’t take it?” Sky tilted her head in pretend sympathy.
“Build your confidence before you come after me, princess. And he needs the exercise. At his age? Keep him sharp or he’ll go senile.”
Rolf didn’t react. She wasn’t even sure he was paying attention.
“See? Halfway there already.”
She refused to smile, but it was kind of funny.
“Nate,” Rolf called without lifting his head. “Did Ilke say what time she’s coming down here?”
Trigg got a peeved look on his face that made her think Rolf only asked as some kind of comeback against Trigg.
“Eleven, unless you tell her otherwise,” Nate said.
“How’s your open relationship with Nate coming along?” Trigg asked Rolf, then called, “Nate? Is Rolf as good a kisser as Ilke?”
“Not as good as you, if that’s what you’re asking. Quit being needy,” Nate said.
Sky snickered. She couldn’t help it.
“Shoot. Forgot you were in there, Sky. I’ll clean it up,” Nate promised.
“Can we get some work done?” Rolf lifted his head, looked at Sky. “Would you set an example?”
Much as she wanted to hold her ground and refuse, just to let them all know they couldn’t boss her, her eyes kept being drawn to a flash of neon blue inside the box. W.W.T.K.D. What Would The Kardashians Do?
She reached in and pulled out a light jacket with a hood and cute diamond patterns on the sleeves. She loved it. Making sure neither of them was watching and acting smug, she started what she considered her ‘yes’ pile.
*
Wren didn’t cry. Until yesterday, she hadn’t cried in years. Far better to subvert her emotions and get on with whatever work would move her toward better circumstances. Did she have choices? Sure. As long as she didn’t provoke Trigg into taking legal action, she was still Sky’s guardian and could take her wherever she wanted.
Would Sky go anywhere with her? Hard to say. Whatever remorse might have prompted Sky to clean up and snuggle into Wren’s bed had evaporated the second Wren had come back and said she ‘thought it was best’ if Sky went to breakfast with Trigg.
“Is this my punishment for yesterday?” Sky had asked with outrage.
“Of course not.” Wren always stuck to time-out and taking away privileges, not outright punishment. “I appreciate that you cleaned up. We both acted poorly yesterday. We’ll do better next time.”
Sky hadn’t given any indication she would adjust her behavior at all.
Now she was at the base with Trigg, and Wren was exploring her options online so she wouldn’t hold a knee-hugging pity party in the shower. It didn’t matter how bad a day started. You went through with it, same as all the rest.
A knock sounded on the door from the manager’s office, surprising her.
“Come in,” she called.
Marvin peeked around it. “It’s your day off. We want to respect that, but Vivien wondered if you’d mind popping up to see her for a few minutes. More of a personal matter.”
Wren had wondered if this was coming. If they were to recognize Sky, Wren would have to take her in hand so she would uphold the family name or something.
With a forced smile, she said, “Of course,” and walked upstairs on heavy feet.
Vivien let her in with a welcoming smile, inviting her to the sitting area. The coffee table held a proper china tea set with a matching three-tier plate stand full of scones and crustless sandwiches.
Wren cautiously lowered onto the sofa. “Test-driving a high tea for the wedding?”
Vivien blinked, taking a moment before saying, “We should have a high tea. That is an excellent idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. We’ll come back to it. Remind me. But no, dear.” She inched forward to pour the tea. “This is an apology.”
“For?” Was she about to be fired? Her mind spun off in so many directions, she barely heard Vivien continue.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Call me a sexist. It didn’t occur to me a girl would possess that streak of superiority and drive—even though Rolf has an aunt who is an absolute treasure when she’s not being a nightmare. You’re to be commended. Managing Sky by yourself all this time? When I married Oskar, Trigg was only three and I was ready to drown him.”
Vivien nudged a cup on a saucer toward Wren. She sat back holding her own, stirring in sugar while she reminisced.
“Trigg was a tremendous handful. I thought all little boys climbed onto the refrigerator and rode books down stairs. I made the assumption you did, that he was acting out because I married Oskar and moved us to Germany.” Her spoon clinked as she set it on her saucer. “He wouldn’t leave Rolf alone. Crawled on him like a puppy on a wolf. They gravitate to strength until they decide they’re better than whomever it is they’re emulating. Then they do something delightful, like flush your diamond watch down the toilet to let you know they’re annoyed with you.” She lifted an exasperated brow as she brought her cup to her lips. Her bracelet rattled as she sipped.
Wren copied her actions, not kno
wing what else to do.
“That was Trigg who did that, but Rolf was a magnificent bastard, especially that first year. Every worst shade of Johansson.” She held up a hand. “The circumstances weren’t ideal, obviously. He was hurting from losing his mother and saw us as interlopers, but I couldn’t let him hurt Trigg to hurt me. It broke my heart. I suppose that’s where I found the strength to sit him down—he was about Sky’s age, but taller and already filling out across the shoulders. Quite intimidating, I assure you. But I told him to cut the crap and show Trigg what kind of person he expected him to become. I mean, honestly, what else can you do?”
Wren wanted to smile politely and eat a cookie and go find a job on the other side of the country. Instead, she was sitting here like she had a bag of popcorn in her lap, unable to look away.
“I wish I could tell you that managing them is as simple as one direct conversation. It’s actually a thousand of them. Clear expectations and plenty of love. I know you’ve done your best on that. Appealing to their ego works sometimes. Or impugning it.”
Been there, done that. Wren tried her own tea.
“It’s important they be encouraged toward achievement, though. Winning in a healthy way. Was Sky playing sports at all?”
“Volleyball. But there were personality conflicts—”
Vivien’s throaty laugh cut her off. “No doubt. Team sports? Please. Obviously, we hope Sky will take to skiing or boarding. So embarrassing if she doesn’t.” She chortled again. “We’ve joked more than once about Rolf winding up with a folk singer or a history major. Boy, would that child know his history.” She continued smiling. “It would certainly be just desserts for Trigg if Sky had a passion for needlepoint.”
Wren smiled weakly. “Not something she’s ever mentioned.”
“No,” Vivien murmured, still with that lilt of amusement. “Nor I, despite many of my contemporaries turning to knitting and quilting at this age.” Vivien clinked her cup into the saucer. “I’ll admit my vanity has been in the way since you arrived. I thought my stepson would ease me into this role while allowing me to maintain the illusion I wasn’t old enough to be a grandmother. But I shall embrace the title from this point forward. Champions don’t arrive on a podium without a first-class support team and I intend to do my part. You are no longer alone in your attempts to mold a well-rounded person. We’re all here to help, especially me.”