Home Sweet Love

by Ava Miles

  “Yeah, two courses is so stuffy,” Caroline teased. “You’ve been to dinners at the White House, for Pete’s sake.”

  He looked down his nose at her over his glasses. “My dear, this isn’t the nation’s capital, and you aren’t the First Lady.”

  “Something I’m grateful for every day,” she quipped as the server brought her wine and sparkling water. “Now are you finally going to tell me why I took a vacation day to meet you for lunch?”

  “A friend of mine could use your art expertise,” he said without blinking. “I hoped you would be amenable to helping him.”

  For a man who wrote succinct ledes for a major newspaper, it was a vague request. She imagined deliberately so. “Tell me more.”

  “It’s for J.T. Merriam,” her uncle said, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip. “Emmits Merriam’s great-great grandson.”

  “Wasn’t he the kid who threw mud at me when I was five?” she asked, recalling the scrawny older boy who’d ruined her dress when he’d missed hitting his twin brother.

  “Sadly, yes,” Uncle Arthur said, scratching his jaw. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember that. Emmits would be appalled that’s all you remember of his kin.”

  She didn’t doubt that he was right.

  “Why does his great-great grandson need my help?” Caroline asked, picking up her wine.

  “Because he wants to bring the Merriam family art collection to Dare Valley,” her uncle told her. “Emmits would be over the moon, and so am I.”

  “Didn’t Emmits come to Dare Valley the same year you started The Western Independent?”

  Arthur shook his head. “Good heavens no. You young people and your memories. I’ve got more brain cells firing. Emmits and his wife built a summer house here long before that. He was my mentor and my friend. Encouraged me to go to Columbia University’s journalism school and helped my career and this newspaper when I was first starting out. I owe that man a whole heck of a lot—even though Emmits always said a man makes his own fate. He’d want his art to rest here. I know it.”

  His impassioned tone made her smile. “Where is he planning to display the collection?”

  “He’s working with the university, of course,” her uncle said. “And that’s strictly between us, even if you choose not to help.”

  “Of course. Do the Merriams have good taste in art?”

  Her uncle snorted. “Impeccable. If you meet with J.T., you’ll see for yourself. Excited yet?”

  She lifted her shoulder. “Sure, but I’m still not clear on why he’d want my help.” The Merriams had oil money and were richer than Croesus. She imagined J.T. could have the best of the best in the art world.

  “J.T. can tell you more himself,” her uncle said as the server brought their appetizers. “As for why he wants you, I told him he does. He needs someone with your skills. Plus, you’re from Dare Valley.”

  “But I live in Denver, Uncle Arthur,” she said, popping a bite of octopus into her mouth. “Delicious. Sure you don’t want a taste?”

  “I stopped eating things with more than four appendages in 1962,” he replied, totally deadpan. “Can I tell J.T. that you’ll meet with him? He’s happy to set something up in Denver if that’s easier for you. He has to fly in anyway.”

  “Where does he live right now?” she asked.

  “Rome,” her uncle replied. “The art capital of the world to many intellectuals.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Caroline said. “What does J.T. do?”

  “He’s been managing the Merriam oil and gas division in Africa and the Middle East. Lately, he’s been thinking about doing something different.”

  “Hence this art collection,” she said, sipping her wine. It was quite a shift, and that intrigued her. “All right, I’ll meet him, but I make no promises. You’re being oddly vague here, and my alarm bells are ringing.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tapped the melted Swiss cheese covering his soup, and the steam escaped.

  “You aren’t thinking you’ll be able to lure me back to Dare Valley like the rest of my siblings?” To her mind, there’d be no purpose. Denver wasn’t far away, and she worked at the city’s finest gallery.

  “I’ll leave major life decisions to you,” Uncle Arthur said. “But it makes me happy to think about more of Emmits’ legacy returning to Dare Valley. The university is one thing, but it doesn’t reflect his heart anymore. No one had a bigger heart than that man.”

  His gruff tone told Caroline he was getting choked up. She rose from her chair and went over to kiss his weathered cheek. “Except you, perhaps.”

  “Bah,” he said again as she returned to her chair. “I’m just an old man who’s done the best he could with what he had. That’s all any of us can do.”

  When he was like this, there was no arguing with him. “Give J.T. my number and tell him to call me.”

  Her uncle gave her a radiant smile and slid two red hots across the table to her. “One for the kiss and the other for making an old man happy.”

  “You’re a sweetheart,” she told him with a wink.

  She’d meet with J.T. Merriam a dozen times if it would make Uncle Arthur smile like that again.

  Chapter 4

  Chase’s arm and leg were throbbing with pain when he was wheeled into a hospital room after going through the agonizing ordeal of having both his tibia and humerus put in separate casts. Like the overachiever he was, he’d broken both major bones on his right side clean through.

  And he had a major concussion to top it all off. Capital news.

  Which meant he had to stay in this godforsaken hospital in a stupid white-patterned gown with his backside exposed.

  “This is ridiculous,” he protested again to Moira’s brother, Dr. Andy Hale, who had taken charge of him at Dare Valley General Hospital. “I’ll follow whatever directions you want, but I’m not staying here. Evan, tell the man we can hire a nurse.”

  Evan stood at the edge of his hospital bed, pasty white from anxiety. Moira was as composed as a swan.

  “I know you want out of here,” Evan said, worrying his lip, “but we need to listen to Andy. He’s the doctor. A serious concussion like yours requires overnight observation.”

  Andy was a nice guy. He was Moira’s brother, after all. But he was standing between Chase and freedom. “I can be observed in the privacy of my hotel room with adequate medical supervision.”

  Moira narrowed her eyes. “If that was advisable, Andy would advise it, Chase. Stop being so bullheaded and let the professionals take care of you.”

  “Look, man,” Andy said, “I don’t blame you for wanting to be sprung. If I didn’t work here, I’d feel the same way. But let’s review the situation. Your scan showed a serious concussion, which will be plaguing you for the next four to six weeks at least in the form of headaches and possible mental confusion. You’re going to have to take some time off. No working on a computer—something you do a lot of, I’m sure—and no travel.”

  If Chase’s head hadn’t been pounding, he could have convinced Andy to see reason. “I’m sure that’s for extreme cases. I have a multi-country European trip planned, and we’re working on a crucial government bid. I can’t shut down for four to six weeks.”

  “The world will end as we know it,” Evan interjected, making Chase frown, which only added to the pain in his head.

  “I’m going to check on my other patients,” Andy said, staring him down like his sister was so adept at doing. “Push the call button if you need anything. You should be pretty good with pain meds right now.”

  Except it hadn’t helped his head much. Wasn’t that something to be worried about? He could work through it. He knew he could. His blurred vision would go away if he concentrated hard enough.

  Moira put her hand on her brother’s arm. “Thanks, Andy.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Sure thing, Mo. Can’t have one of your bosses keeling over.”

  The moment the door closed, Chase
said, “Dammit, Evan! I want out of here.”

  His friend’s face bunched up. “I know you’re upset, but I’m holding the line here. You scared me, Chase. I mean…look at you.”

  Chase didn’t have to look. He had a pretty good view of his massive body draped in an ugly hospital gown with his casted upper arm and lower leg hoisted up in slings. If any of his hardcore Defense Department folks saw him now, they’d reconsider working with Quid-Atch. This was not the respected corporate executive who’d graced the cover of Fortune magazine.

  “I still don’t understand how this happened, Chase,” Evan said. “You’re an incredible skier.”

  “I wasn’t looking, and then things got out of hand,” he replied, hoping Evan wouldn’t press him.

  “It wasn’t a question of skill, Chase,” Moira said, giving him a pointed stare, just like her brother had moments ago. “You were as distracted as I was about the house that was on fire across the valley.”

  A ripple of shock crossed Evan’s face. Damn. Chase had hoped Moira wouldn’t say anything about that. Evan would connect the dots.

  “Moira?” Evan asked with a gentle smile. “Let me talk to Chase alone for a bit.”

  They shared a look of understanding, and Chase saw how things were going to go form here. Evan and Moira were a united front, and they were going to tag team him until they got their way. He wanted to hurl his plastic cup of water across the room.

  “I’ll see about getting us some real food,” Moira said, looking back his way.

  Her concern was obvious, but right now, Chase had bigger fish to fry.

  After she left, Evan pulled the utilitarian visitor’s chair up to his bedside. Like they were about to have a man-to-man chat straight out of Good Will Hunting.

  Chase looked away. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”

  “I have to,” Evan said quietly. “You’re my best friend.”

  Chase curled his good hand into a fist. “I don’t want to talk about this, Evan.”

  “Which is why we never have,” Evan answered, scraping the chair closer. “I’ve known about what happened to your ranch since the beginning. When I wanted to hire you, you told me to do a background check on you. I learned about everything, from the fire to your father’s suicide. I guess you wanted me to know upfront so I’d never ask. And I haven’t. But Chase…if it’s still bothering you enough to get you this distracted and hurt, maybe it’s finally time.”

  Chase turned to look at Evan. “There’s nothing to discuss here. I’ve dealt with it, Evan. Anyone who’d lost their home that way would be a little thrown to see another family going through the same thing. You’re like a brother to me. Don’t act like my shrink.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine myself qualified for that,” Evan said. “But I’m worried about you. This accident was serious, Chase.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You’re going to have headaches for weeks,” Evan continued. “You won’t be able to travel by airplane, and you’re going to need to be in a wheelchair until the casts come off.”

  Andy had told him the same thing earlier, but hearing it from Evan took the wind out of him. Not be mobile? Not travel? Basically, it meant he couldn’t be himself.

  “I’ll find a way to work, Evan,” he ground out. “We have big things going up. My trip to Europe, the bid—even this fundraiser now since you’re considering inviting our competitors like Maurie—”

  “Didn’t you hear anything Andy said?” his friend asked. “Your brain—your one-of-a-kind human brain—has to recover. It’s a heck of a lot more complicated than your broken limbs, although you did a number on them too. You have to cut back on work. I’m going to insist. Heck, this accident might be your wakeup call to deal with the past. Like coming to Dare Valley was for me.”

  A wakeup call? Who was Evan kidding? He was a grown man. “Don’t compare me to you, Evan. You still had some growing up to do. I’m closing in on forty.”

  Evan was silent for a while, and Chase forced himself to look out the hospital window. That was when he saw the smoke, and his chest contracted painfully again.

  The column of black smoke was smaller now, but it was unmistakable. That poor family.

  “I’m putting you on medical leave starting today until Andy determines you’re ready to ease back into work.”

  Chase swung his head to gape at Evan, which made pain shoot across his skull. “No way! You can’t force me to take leave.”

  Evan leaned back in his chair and gripped the arms. “When Moira comes back, she’ll tell you that I can. When a doctor advises it.”

  “You actually read the Quid-Atch human resources manual?” Chase scoffed.

  “I called Janice at headquarters while you were being swathed in plaster,” Evan said. “You aren’t going to want to fight me on this, Chase. Focus on getting better.”

  Being out of commission was a death sentence. Why couldn’t Evan see that? Quid-Atch needed him—and it went both ways.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Chase levered himself up and fought a curse when pain shot through his head again. “Evan, I run your goddamn company. I can’t do that on leave or part-time. No one can do my job but me. Not even Darren.”

  “I agree no one does it better than you,” Evan said, “but the rest of us at Quid-Atch will have to do our best. Darren is your VP of Operations, for Pete’s sake. He’ll do great. He can take over your role on the bid.”

  That didn’t assure him one bit. “We’re undermanned right now—”

  “I’m going to draft a workflow plan, which you can give input on orally. You’re not supposed to read anything in the early stages of a concussion. Your travel can be assigned to other members of the executive team, including myself. We’ll keep you involved with critical issues—”

  “Everything I do is critical, Evan. I won’t let you sideline me. I can work through the pain. We need to win that bid.” He wouldn’t talk about how the thought of being caged in a wheelchair made him feel. He hadn’t processed that yet. But nothing had ever stopped him before, and he wouldn’t allow anything to stop him now.

  “The bid will continue without you. We have almost ninety days to turn it in, Chase. I’ll be waiting for your input when you’re better.”

  “Are you kidding me? Every day counts. You have no idea how much work goes into this kind of thing. The proposal team sometimes clocks in twenty hours a day on a bid like this.” That was a regular day for Chase, but Evan knew that.

  “I’ll rent you a house here,” Evan responded instead, standing up and going over to the window, shaking his limbs like he was feeling the anxiousness of his decisions.

  As well he should. Evan had never tried to limit him. Chase was the one who took care of Evan, or at least that’s the way it used to be. He wasn’t going to let his friend reverse their roles.

  “I can take a car back to HQ,” Chase said.

  “No way,” Evan said. “Andy said it would be a horrible trip across country. Plus I won’t be able to monitor your well-being as easily if you go back to D.C. And your well-being is my number one priority right now, alongside my wife’s.”

  Chase couldn’t let those words affect him, but he felt it happening all the same. “Fine. But you can just extend my reservation at The Grand Mountain Hotel.” He would find a way to work in secret.

  “You’ll like the privacy of a house better,” Evan said, pulling out his phone to type in what Chase expected were notes. “Judging from the mausoleum you live in by yourself, you like space.”

  It wasn’t the space so much as it was having the kind of house people thought you should have. He lived in Great Falls because it’s where all the richest global executives lived in the D.C. area. Not that he spent much time there, or even considered it home. If he could have gotten away with living in a hotel his whole life after the fire, he would have. Only people who’d been through an experience like that could understand what it felt like to have everything destroyed, from famil
y photos to cherished heirlooms like the lace tablecloth his great-great grandmother brought from Boston when she came West on the wagon train as a mail-order bride. His entire childhood had gone up in flames with the ranch. His family’s history too.

  He didn’t consider his current residence a home. Trisha, his ex-wife, had understood that.

  “Fine,” he grumbled, “find me a house if you’re going to be so bull-headed about it,” he said, knowing Evan was barely listening to him now.

  Chase would do what he could to make the situation suit his needs. Evan was busy working on his current invention and the launch of the Artemis Institute, not to mention his domesticity with Margie. He’d have little time to keep an eye on Chase, and no one who worked with them at Quid-Atch or elsewhere would rat him out.

  “I’ll personally go to D.C. to oversee the packing of some of your things. I think you’re going to be here awhile.”

  Then his friend looked up at him and gestured to his current state. They should take a picture and title it, Powerful Man Cast In Plaster. They could show it in the MoMA.

  “Since I know you and the way you think,” Evan said, “I’m also talking to the staff about your condition and making it clear they will get into trouble if they help you work on the sly, especially on this bid. I mean it, Chase.”

  Shit, Evan had out-foxed him there. “This isn’t a good executive decision, Evan. Our staff will likely freak out if I’m not around to lead them on this seven-hundred-million-dollar bid.” They both knew the money involved, of course, but it couldn’t hurt to remind him.

  Evan’s eyes darkened. “I’ll blame your irritability on your current condition and hope it improves as your body heals.”

  He and Evan had always been plainspoken, but he’d taken it too far by besmirching his friend’s ability to lead. “I’m sorry, but you’re taking away everything I love, everything I live for.” He hated the plaintive tone in his voice.

  “No, I’m ensuring you don’t make your condition worse.” Evan shook his head. “I hate being the bad guy, but I will. I’m also going to shut down your ability to send emails from your work account for the moment. And your phone. I’m going to tinker with it so you can’t use it to call, text, or email.”