by Seton, Cora
“Is that what this is about? Your job?”
“I don’t want Greg killed!” Renata exploded. Why wouldn’t he listen?
“Greg, huh? So things are going well between you?”
She sputtered helplessly until Fulsom took pity on her and kept going. “Look, send me proof that Bailey jiggered with the wind turbine, and I’ll can his ass. I can’t do that without proof, though.”
“Yes, you can. You just don’t want to.”
“I have to take the long view. You of all people should understand—”
Renata hung up on him. He wasn’t going to help her stop Clem.
She was on her own.
“Renata went up to the manor with Avery,” Riley told Greg when he finally made his way down off the wind turbine again and went looking for her. He was cold to the bone, his fingers frozen, but he’d gotten it to stop spinning. Whether or not he could start it again remained to be seen.
“Why?”
“Seeing you up there was making her nervous. Avery distracted her by saying the manor needed cleaning for our next guests.” Riley sighed. “It probably does. I’ll head up there now, too.”
Greg would have followed her, but his phone buzzed, and when he saw his parents’ number, he answered it.
“Greg, you haven’t called in ages,” his mother, Phoebe, said.
“Hi, Mom. Sorry, it’s been a little crazy.”
“You drew the short straw,” she guessed. The episode showing it hadn’t aired yet, but it would be soon.
“I did.”
“Have you found a bride?”
“I’m not giving you any spoilers.” He wasn’t sure he was ready to tell her about Renata.
“Fine. Call your sister, though.”
Her quick switch of topic threw him off guard. “What’s wrong with Eileen?”
“Nothing’s wrong, except the two of you hardly talk. And neither of you ever come home.”
“We’re just busy, that’s all.” He swallowed against a surge of guilt. She was right; he did avoid Greenside.
His mother was quiet. “I get that you two needed to sow your wild oats, but I hoped you’d return sometime to settle down. This is your home, after all.”
Your home, he wanted to tell her. His parents loved Greenside, but he’d felt hemmed in there, and Eileen had, too. She loved traveling as much as he once did, and she was rarely in her Santa Monica apartment. Back when he’d been a Navy SEAL, they’d played endless rounds of phone tag trying to connect with their erratic schedules until they’d gotten out of the habit of talking to each other at all.
If she was anything like him, she’d been afraid that if she spent too much time at Greenside, somehow the place would swallow her whole again, like it had when they were children. That had been their parents’ mistake—thinking Greenside could be their whole world.
“I’ll call her,” he promised, although he didn’t say when.
“Do it now,” his mother urged him. “Call me back tomorrow.” Before he could protest, she’d hung up.
What could he do but put the call through to Eileen? He tapped at his phone, lifted it to his ear and began walking slowly up the hill toward the manor, ready to leave a message on voice mail as usual, so when she answered after two rings, he was almost too surprised to say hello. “H-hey,” he managed finally. “Eileen. It’s me.”
“I saw your number. Is something wrong with Mom and Dad?”
His whole family was hopeless, he thought. “Nothing’s wrong. Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m… fine.”
“Really? You don’t sound fine.”
There was a long pause. “It’s just… I lost my job. I got downsized,” she corrected herself. “I don’t think it’s going to be too long until my company folds altogether, actually. There are too many people doing what we do. Did.” She sighed. “I haven’t been without a job in years. I can’t wrap my head around it.”
He understood why the job loss was hitting her so hard. Eileen worked for one of the major travel guide companies and was sent around the world to research up-and-coming destinations. As internet influencers swarmed the globe and made the same type of information available for free, smaller companies had given up the ghost, but hers had kept chugging along. She must have hoped it would continue to beat the odds.
“What does a thirty-something-year-old washed-up travel writer do to make a living?” she joked, but there was real fear underlying that question.
“Have you looked around for something local?”
“That pays enough to keep an apartment here?” She sighed again. “I’m going to have to move. Reinvent myself. God, it’s so depressing. You want to know the worst of it?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve spent the last two weeks here in Santa Monica, in the condo I’ve owned for over fourteen years, and three separate people in my complex have stopped me to ask who I’m visiting. One of them practically forced me to show her my ID. I guess people have been sneaking into the complex to use the pool, but really, Greg. Fourteen years—and no one knows me.”
“You never built up a community there.”
“I never built a community anywhere. My community is the people I work with—over the internet. We’re never in the same place at the same time. Now that I’ve lost my job, they’ve disappeared.”
“You said you needed to reinvent yourself. Maybe that’s where you should start. By identifying a community you actually want to be a part of.”
Eileen laughed. “The really sad part is the only one that comes to mind is…”
“Greenside?”
“Yeah.”
“You could come here.”
“Not sure I’m ready for some Navy SEAL to find me as his bride.”
It was Greg’s turn to laugh. “The show is over in just a few months. No one will be forced to marry after that. Think about it.”
“I will. But first… I think I’m ready to go home for a while.”
“Mom will be over the moon to hear that.”
“Speaking of marriage,” Eileen went on. “Who drew the short straw? I can’t wait to watch the episode. Was it you?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Who’s the lucky girl?”
“You know the director? The British one who narrates the show sometimes?”
“You’re marrying Renata?”
“I sure hope so. Haven’t convinced her yet. Don’t tell Mom and Dad. I don’t want to get their hopes up if it doesn’t work out.”
“You’ll get her hooked. You always could charm the girls. Make sure you bring her home to meet all of us.”
It sounded right when she talked about Greenside that way, and Greg realized he no longer felt like the place was something to run from, either. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d seen the world. Chosen a home of his own. Now he could visit as an independent adult and enjoy it for all its good qualities.
“I’ll do that,” he said.
“You’re avoiding me,” Clem accused when Renata entered the manor’s kitchen to get a drink of water. She’d thought Avery had been making an excuse when she said they needed to clean the B and B for their next set of guests, but she’d been wrong. They’d spent several hours giving the large home a thorough cleaning, and oddly enough, it was just what she’d needed. If only she could put her life in order as easily as they had the manor.
“Just doing my work, like any other cast member,” she said dryly and moved past him to fetch a glass out of a cupboard. One more thing she’d need to clean.
“You’re afraid of me.”
“God, you’re self-absorbed.” She moved to the sink and let the water run until it was cold.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.” He moved closer. “You and I have a lot in common.”
She didn’t like the silky-smooth tone of his voice or the insinuation in his words, but it was his body language that spooked her the most.
“Rematch,” she said
loudly, hoping to head off whatever nasty proposition he was about to make.
“What?”
At least she’d confused him. “Nickels. I want a rematch. With a real bet.” She needed money, after all.
Clem eyed her suspiciously, but in the end his need to best her apparently won over whatever twisted fantasy had him thinking she might agree to be with him.
“You’re on.” He dug a handful of coins out of his pocket and gave her one. “Where?”
Renata looked around the large country kitchen. There weren’t any suitable walls in here. “The ballroom.” That was all bare floors and large expanses without furniture.
She led the way without looking back, bringing her glass of water with her, setting it on a windowsill when they entered the ballroom. The room was overly quiet with just the two of them occupying it. She hoped Avery was still somewhere upstairs.
“Ladies first.”
“You always say that like you doubt I’m a lady.” Renata regretted her quip almost immediately. She’d set him up for another innuendo.
“Maybe I’d like confirmation that you are. Personal confirmation,” he said, right on cue.
“Ick.” Renata took her shot and landed her coin expertly. No fooling around this game.
“We didn’t say what the bet was.”
“Five thousand dollars.”
“You’re on.” Clem took his shot and beat her.
Surprised, Renata hesitated before going to retrieve her coin.
“Why are you always trying to steal my money?” Clem strode to the wall, scooped up both coins and handed hers to her. “Desperate for cash for some reason? Coke habit? Secret baby?”
“I’m not desperate for cash. And I don’t have a baby.” She had seven teenagers and a college student who needed help, though.
Clem studied her before taking his next shot. “You are desperate for cash, aren’t you?”
“I just said I wasn’t.”
Clem’s shot landed far from the wall. “Hell.”
Renata beat his shot easily. She beat him the next three shots as well. Still, he recovered and tied her at seven.
“How much cash do you need?”
“None,” she lied. Enough that five thousand dollars would barely make a dent.
He took his shot, and it landed wildly again. Maybe talking to him was the key to winning, Renata thought. Overall, his aim was certainly better than it had been last time, though. She took her shot and won the round. Took the next one and landed the coin a fraction of an inch from the wall.
“Have you been practicing?” she asked as he flicked his wrist to toss his coin. The nickel landed a good six inches from the wall.
“No.”
She laughed and easily won the next round, as well. “Yes, you have. Five thousand dollars, please.”
“I’ll have to do an e-transfer.”
The both took out their phones and completed the transaction. Renata was tickled to see her balance, such as it was, increase by so much.
Clem didn’t seem all that put out to have lost.
“What are you smirking about?” she challenged him.
He tapped at his phone. Hers buzzed.
Renata realized her mistake in giving him her email address to complete the transfer.
“Want to get laid?” the subject line of his email read.
“What are you two doing?” a male voice said.
Greg.
Renata felt herself flush as she deleted the email as quickly as she could.
“Just getting to know each other a little better,” Clem said.
“Just taking his money.” She went and scooped up the nickels. Handed them to Clem. “We had a rematch.”
Greg looked grim. “A rematch.”
Why should she feel guilty about taking Clem’s money? She did, though. Not about winning but about playing the game with Clem at all. From Greg’s point of view, it might look like she was choosing to spend time with the director. Clem certainly wasn’t doing anything to dispel that impression.
“It’s almost dinnertime,” Greg said. “Is Avery still here?”
“I think so. She was upstairs last I saw her.” With every word, she was digging herself a deeper hole. Now Greg might think she’d deliberately tried to be alone with Clem. Did Greg think she wanted to flirt with him—or worse?
She shivered.
“Cold?” Clem asked, moving closer.
“Disgusted,” she countered. “And ready to get back to the bunkhouse. Any idea what’s for dinner?” she asked Greg. She led the way to the hall.
“No.”
“Avery?” Renata called up the stairs. “Time to eat!”
“Coming,” Avery called down.
They collected their jackets from where they’d left them in the kitchen, and the four of them tramped silently down the path to the bunkhouse.
Chapter Ten
‡
Well, this was awkward, Greg thought, leading the way down the snowy path. He was angry at himself for not hiding his suspicions better when he came upon Clem and Renata in the ballroom. His first thought was that Clem had been making a pass at her. His second, that maybe Renata and Clem had planned some elaborate scheme together to upend things at Base Camp, and he’d been a fool to think she really cared for him.
That was paranoid, though. Probably the easiest answer was the right one: Renata had wanted to bet money again, and Clem had gone along with it.
“Has Walker found that fan he’s looking for?” he asked Avery when the group’s silence became too unbearable.
Avery stumbled. “Fan? Uh… I don’t know.”
“He’s been looking all over.”
“I’m keeping an eye out for it, too. Do you think someone sabotaged the wind turbine?”
Her rapid change of topic made it difficult to keep up. “Possibly, although it could simply have been a mechanical failure.” The attacks on his energy systems were getting to be worrisome, and he feared they might get worse before the show ended.
“We should set up security cameras to monitor your equipment,” Renata said.
Hell. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
“Security cameras?” Avery stumbled again. “Aren’t we filmed enough?”
“I don’t know, I like the idea,” Greg told her. “Renata, what do you say we head to town tomorrow and pick up some equipment to get right on that. If Clem wants to sabotage the show, hitting our energy systems is a good way to do it.”
“Won’t that be expensive?” Avery said.
“Not as expensive as losing a wind turbine or solar panels,” Greg pointed out. “What do you say?” he added to Renata. “Should we catch us a troublemaker?”
Renata smiled for the first time since he’d caught up with her at the manor. “Sounds like fun.”
It didn’t take them long the next afternoon to find what they were looking for in an electronics store. Greg was enjoying the time alone with Renata, even if she still was a little stiff around him. The sun had come out, the temperature was above freezing for once. Spring didn’t seem like such an impossibility, even though it was still far away.
“These are motion-activated,” the clerk told them when they indicated some cameras they were interested in. He went into a long spiel about the small surveillance equipment’s specifications. They bought a half dozen of the tiny cameras, with the intent to install them in several places around Base Camp.
“We could stop by Thayer’s Jewelers,” Greg joked when they exited the store, indicating the small jewelry shop down the street. “Pick up your engagement ring. You could have all of this”—he indicated himself—“right now!”
“Hmm…” Renata said. “Answer me this. If you didn’t have to marry in forty days, would we be having this conversation?”
He hesitated only a moment, but that moment cost him dearly.
Renata ducked around him and climbed into the truck. He stopped her from shutting the door, however. One hand on the roof, the oth
er on the doorframe, he leaned down to confront her. “I wouldn’t be proposing this soon,” he conceded, “but I’d be pursuing you—hard. Make no mistake about that.” He shut the door and went to the other side of the vehicle.
Did she doubt that he cared for her? If so, he had some work to do.
Starting right now.
Back home, they fetched a ladder from the barn and set it up midway down the back of the bunkhouse. Greg figured no one trespassing would be dumb enough to pass by either the front or kitchen entrances they all used a dozen times a day. Someone trying to make his way unseen through camp might well go this way, though. Throughout the process, he made sure he touched Renata whenever he could. Grabbed a kiss or two when he could. He wanted her to think about him when she went to bed tonight, the way he was constantly thinking about her.
“Hold the ladder,” he said and climbed up to install one of the security cameras in the eaves of the bunkhouse roof, but what he saw there stopped him short. “Hell, there’s a camera here already. Renata—is this one of yours?”
Renata peered up at the eaves and made out a small, dark shape that had to be the camera Greg meant. “No, it’s definitely not mine.” It was well hidden but would track anything that went on behind the bunkhouse. Who had stuck it there? Clem?
“You sure?” Greg half climbed back down the ladder to face her. Renata’s temper flared.
“Of course I’m sure. We thought about installing cameras like that back at the beginning of the show but decided against it because we knew you’d all figure it out after the first episode. I wanted to keep the immediacy of a handheld camera crew.”
“Whose is it then?”
She shrugged, although the answer was obvious. “Clem’s, maybe.” She met Greg’s gaze.
“I’m really starting to hate that guy,” he admitted. “Least he could do was tell us we were being watched.”
“That would defeat the whole purpose,” she pointed out. “Probably wanted to catch you getting it on with some young thing back here.”
“The only person I’d be getting it on with is you—” Greg bit off the rest of his sentence and climbed back up the ladder. A wave of heat crashed over Renata at the image his words conjured. She saw herself backed against the building, Greg’s body pressed against hers, him lifting her up—pushing into her—