Frailty of Things

by Schultz, Tamsen

  “Kit,” her brother said.

  “Caleb,” she responded. She hadn’t seen or spoken to her brother in five months, almost enough time to believe he wasn’t a part of her life. Almost enough time to accept, again, that she was fine on her own; that she was fine with having no family.

  “We need to talk,” he said. Kit didn’t respond for a moment. She and her brother didn’t talk. They never talked. Not anymore. There had been a time in their lives when that hadn’t been the case. There had been a time when she’d idolized her older brother, when he’d looked out for her, when they’d gone fishing together, and when she had believed that he had an answer for everything.

  But that time had long ago passed, and they hadn’t been in each other’s presence for more than a few days a year for over a decade. Kit started to speak but stopped short when a second figure emerged from the passenger side of Caleb’s car.

  She was glad her face was hidden in the shadows of her hat and scarf as Garret Cantona, her brother’s right-hand man, straightened to his full height. Kit was tall, easily five foot eleven, but Garret’s six-foot-three form dwarfed hers. Like Caleb, he wore jeans and work boots, but rather than a jacket, Garret sported a black sweater and a gray beanie. She knew the hat covered light-brown hair that, if it got too long, curled in ways that bothered him. And she felt, more than saw, his light-blue eyes—eyes rimmed with thick, black lashes—studying her.

  “And I see you brought your Mini-Me,” she added, forcing her gaze from Garret back to her brother in time to see a look of irritation flicker across Caleb’s face.

  “Kit,” Caleb warned.

  She let out a little breath of annoyance. It was too cold to be having this conversation now. “I’m going home. If you’d like to follow me, feel free. You know I have enough room for you. If you don’t want to stay with me, there are dozens of bed and breakfasts around. I don’t care either way, but I’m too cold to be standing out here right now.” She almost added that they could feel free to camp on her property too, since that was exactly what Garret had been doing when she’d first met him. Her brother had been in town helping a friend of hers and had brought Garret along. She’d discovered Garret camping on the back edge of her eighty acres—close enough to a road to be easily accessible, but far enough away from everything else to be seen. Why her brother hadn’t had him stay in the house with them was a mystery to her.

  “Cantona will go with you,” Caleb all but ordered.

  Kit laughed. “I don’t think so, Caleb. You can meet me there.” Both cars had been backed into their spots, and Kit had to pass Garret as she made her way to her driver’s side door. Keeping an eye mostly on the icy path, she glanced up at her brother’s companion as she drew alongside him. His eyes were trained on hers, but she could read nothing in his expression. She wished it were the same for him—that he would find her expression as neutral as she found his—but she wasn’t as good at this game as either of the two men who stood with her. Still, he stepped back and let her pass.

  After unlocking her door, she slid onto the leather seat and shivered as her cold jeans pressed against the backs of her legs. She reached for the door but Garret was already there, closing it. And for a moment, for a very brief second, she thought she saw a question in his eyes. Then the door shut.

  “Go with her,” Kit heard Caleb say as she fumbled with her key in her gloved hands.

  “No,” Garret responded. “It’s not as though she’s going to run, Forrester. You just dropped in on her after five months of no contact. Give her space,” he added.

  Kit heard Caleb start to reply, but whatever he said was lost to her as her engine roared to life. She pulled out onto the road and turned west, toward home. Through her rearview mirror, she saw both men climb back into Caleb’s Range Rover. She wasn’t sure what to feel when his headlights appeared through her back window.

  Not wanting to think about the sudden appearance of both Caleb and Garret, Kit turned her mind to her meeting with Drew. She wasn’t going to back out, but the more she thought about it, the more anxious she became—for Drew, not herself. She didn’t know the half of what he did in his job, but she knew he was committed to it, almost too much so. She also knew he wasn’t married, and from what she could tell—from her conversations with him and with their mutual friend, Dani Williamson, now Dani Fuller—he’d never even had a relationship that had lasted more than a month or so.

  If the MI6 agent, Parker, was playing him, Drew could lose everything—everything he had worked so hard for would disappear. The thought made her stomach turn. Drew was one of the good guys, and he deserved some happiness in his life—in whatever form that came.

  Kit made a promise to herself to do what she could to help Drew and was already mentally planning the adjustments she would need to make to her schedule to accommodate his request as she pulled onto her long driveway. In the distance, she could see the top of her home. That sight, and the drive from the road to her abode, always brought her a sense of calm.

  That sense of peace was why she lived in the Hudson Valley. She was young, almost thirty-two, with a career that kept her in the public eye to a certain extent and, over the years, more than one person had asked her why she chose to live alone in such a small, rural town. Ironically, even though she was a writer, it was a question she couldn’t adequately answer with words—it was just this thing she felt each time she came home that drew and kept her here.

  Her house came into view as she rounded a gentle curve. Unlike most houses in the area, hers was modern in design. From the driveway, it resembled the side of a staircase, with three levels climbing the hill. The lower level held a guest room, laundry room, and all those other rooms that only occasionally got used, like her TV room and gym. On the middle level was the main living area and kitchen, and the upper level had two more guest rooms and her massive master bedroom suite with an attached office. Every side of the house that wasn’t tucked against the hill was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows.

  It was bigger than she needed just for herself. But when working with the architect, she’d been adamant that the home be designed in such a way that it would be easy to sell if she ever wanted to—which meant standard things like more bedrooms, a big, easy living area, and nothing too crazily custom. At least that’s what she’d told the architect. Although it was something she thought about less and less with each passing year, in rare moments she wondered if she’d really been hoping to fill the house with her own family. It wasn’t that she thought she was getting too old; age had nothing to do with it, and she knew she was still young. But after having lived on her own since she was seventeen, she often wondered if she might be too set in her ways to ever be able to live with someone else, let alone raise a family.

  Taking a deep breath and forcing those thoughts from her head, Kit pulled around to the parking area carved into the hill at the back of the house. After parking in her garage, she didn’t bother to wait for her brother and was in her kitchen pulling off her hat and gloves when Caleb and Garret came in, each carrying a duffel bag.

  Her eyebrow went up. “So, I guess you’re staying.”

  “We need to talk,” Caleb repeated as he dropped his bag in the entryway and stepped into the kitchen.

  “I wasn’t planning on seeing you tonight and, believe it or not, I don’t actually have time to talk with you right now,” she said as she removed her coat.

  Garret had placed his bag on the floor and was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her.

  “Kit.” Again, Caleb’s voice held a hint of warning.

  “Look, Caleb, as Garret pointed out, you just dropped in on me. I do have a life and, in fact, I’m not even going to be here very long. I’m heading to Europe the day after tomorrow to attend a party for a dear friend of mine. Between now and then, I have a number of things I have to do, some of which I need to do tonight.” Like reschedule her flight through Heathrow so she could meet up with Isabelle Parker.

  Her b
rother opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “The downstairs guest room you use whenever you decide to show up is made up. You,” she said, turning to Garret, “can either sleep on the sofa down where Caleb sleeps or there are two more guest rooms upstairs. Both are made up and both have attached baths.”

  “You can sleep on the sofa,” Caleb interjected. Kit let out a sardonic laugh at the order issued from her brother. At one point in their lives, hearing the protective tone in Caleb’s voice would have felt normal, would have made her feel cared for. Now it was just ridiculous. Not only were they all adults, but Caleb had long ago given up the right to be protective of her in any way.

  Garret chuckled. “I don’t think so, Forrester. Between a bed and a couch,” he shook his head, “it’s a bed for me.” And to prevent any further discussion, Garret grabbed his bag and headed up the stairs. Neither she nor Caleb said anything as he left. And when they heard the door to one of the guest rooms click shut, the silence between Kit and her brother suddenly felt heavy.

  “He won’t bother you,” Caleb finally said. “We’ve worked together for years,” he added. He wouldn’t dare was left unsaid.

  “I know,” Kit said. “Ian told me about Garret when he was here with you last fall helping Jesse with that mess.” She didn’t mention that she had actually met Garret; it seemed easier not to. Saying she’d heard of him from Ian MacAllister, the county sheriff and a mutual friend of hers and her brother’s, seemed reasonable.

  Caleb and Garret had come to offer their help, and considerable expertise, to Ian when one of Kit’s good friends, Jesse, had gotten caught in the crosshairs of a woman who had stalked and nearly killed her on more than one occasion. While Kit was grateful for the help Caleb and Garret had provided, the fact that both had up and disappeared from Windsor before she’d even had the chance to thank them served to remind her of just why Caleb was no longer a significant part of her life. Not even when he was standing five feet in front of her in her own kitchen.

  They stood for another silent moment, and with every passing second, the gulf between them seemed to open wider and wider.

  “I have some things I need to do,” she said abruptly, breaking the building tension.

  “We do need to talk, Kit,” Caleb said as she started to walk away.

  She paused at the bottom of the stairs, tempted to just keep walking. But she didn’t. Instead, she turned to face him. He was watching her, still standing where he’d stopped when he walked in. She and her brother didn’t have much of a relationship, but he was still her brother, and he had come to help her friend Jesse when he’d been asked.

  “I have some things I need to do tomorrow, but I should be free by the afternoon,” she said. She saw another look of irritation flash across his face, but it was gone almost as fast as it had come. He gave a small, curt nod. She waited for him to pick up his bag and head downstairs, but when he didn’t, she said her good night and climbed the stairs to her own sanctuary.

  ***

  Two hours later, Kit was still awake. She’d changed her ticket, adding a layover in England rather than flying straight to Italy as she’d originally planned. She had also researched Isabelle Parker, the journalist, and e-mailed her own publicist to see about setting up a meeting with Ms. Parker while she was in London.

  The change to her schedule had been easy, but given that she was expected at a party in Rome on Friday and had anticipated arriving Wednesday, she needed to move her departure up a day to give herself enough time in London. That meant she’d be flying out the next day rather than the day after. Caleb wouldn’t like that, but it wasn’t like he’d given her any warning that he was coming, so she shoved aside what little guilt she felt for not sticking around.

  After finishing things up in her office, she’d taken a shower in an effort to quiet her mind and body. But it hadn’t worked. And now, at just after midnight, she stood alone in her room, in her pajamas, staring out at the winter night through her floor-to-ceiling windows.

  And it came as no surprise when, behind her, she heard her bedroom door click open and shut. Even without the soft sound, she would have known when Garret walked into the room. For good or for bad, it was just like that between them. Looking over her shoulder at him, she watched as he paused a few feet into the room and met her gaze.

  “Mini-Me?” he said, his lips quirking into a shadow of a grin.

  “If the shoe fits,” Kit responded into the quiet of the night. He had showered too; his hair still looked damp. He was in jeans again, with a white t-shirt and bare feet.

  “I’m three inches taller than your brother,” he said, coming toward her.

  She turned her attention back to the window. “Being a Mini-Me is more a state of mind than a physical state.”

  He chuckled as he came to stand beside her, but she didn’t feel much like laughing. Running a finger down the side of her face, he brushed her hair away from her profile. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  She couldn’t deny the little hitch in her heart at hearing those words, but she didn’t want to go there with him. It would be so easy to turn into his arms and finish what they’d started all those months ago. But all the months apart had made her realize something—while her body might want Garret, the life he could offer her, that he could offer them, wasn’t one she wanted. So she changed the subject.

  “It was for nights like this that I had all these windows put in,” she said, placing her palm on the glass pane. It was cool to the touch, and the heat and moisture from her hand created a small ring of fog. She paused and watched as it disappeared. “There are maybe four or five nights a year when we have both snow and a full moon, and even fewer that are clear nights with new fallen snow,” she said.

  Kit kept her gaze on her little valley, letting the raw beauty of it seep into her soul. A fox trotted across the driveway several yards away from her house, then disappeared into the woods. The full moon hung in the dark sky, its light reflecting off the snow and casting the night into an encompassing kind of blue. Trees created shadows that fell in muted patterns onto a ground that looked blanketed with diamonds.

  “The beauty of it is almost enough to make me believe in magic,” she said quietly as she let her hand drop.

  “Kit,” Garret said. He made a move that would bring him closer to her but stopped when she shrank away. The peace that had flirted with her as she’d looked out at the night vanished.

  “You’re upset,” he said.

  The funny thing was, she wasn’t upset. She had every right to be, but she wasn’t. She was something much worse; she was disappointed. Sad.

  She shook her head. “I’m not going to deny that we have chemistry, Garret.”

  “Just chemistry?” His voice was flat as he cut her off.

  “Yes, chemistry,” she repeated, then finally turned to look at him again. In the light of the moon, she could see his blue eyes locked on hers. The physical pull she felt when she held his gaze seemed to mock the idea that what they shared could be “just” anything.

  “Chemistry,” she said one more time. As if saying it would make it so.

  He didn’t blink. He didn’t so much as move a muscle. Then he seemed to take an internal deep breath and relax. His shoulders dropped an inch and a small smile played on his lips.

  “I read an interesting article on my flight here,” he said.

  His non sequitur caught her by surprise and she frowned in response.

  “It was about love at first sight. Do you know how many women believe in it?” he asked.

  Too many, she thought to herself, but she said nothing and shook her head.

  “34 percent,” he answered. “Do you know how many men believe in love at first sight?” he continued.

  “A lot less,” she guessed, feeling cynical.

  “73 percent,” he stated.

  She simply stared at him for a long moment. He couldn’t possibly be telling her he was in love with her. They did have some something—somet
hing she had never experienced with anyone else—but they had only spent less than three days together.

  She cleared her throat and looked away. “Well, it’s not the love at first sight that’s most important, it’s the love at the one-hundredth or one-thousandth or ten-thousandth sight that really matters.”

  For a moment, Garret said nothing. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I could have,” he admitted. “But I wasn’t sure what I would say. Or if you would even have wanted me to.”

  That last sentence was said more as a question. Would she have wanted him to call? The girly girl in her said yes, of course he should have called, but the woman in her, the woman who had her life figured out and knew what she wanted out of it—including what she did and didn’t want out of a partner, was a little bit glad he hadn’t.

  “I don’t know.” She answered what he hadn’t really asked. And Kit knew her honest response hurt him. She felt his energy change. She hadn’t intended to upset him, but she wasn’t going to lie—not to him, not to herself.

  Gathering her strength, she turned to face him. Kit could feel the heat coming off his body and was once again struck by how easy it would be to slide her arms around his waist and bury herself in him. But she wouldn’t.

  “There is something between us, Garret. I’ve already conceded that. But what I want for my life isn’t what you can give, and I’m not interested in asking you to change.”

  “Then don’t,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I’m not, Garret. The man you are is someone I admire and like and, yes, am attracted to. But don’t ask me to change, either. Sometimes love or lust or chemistry or whatever you want to call it isn’t enough. A wise woman I know who has been married for over fifty years once told me that it’s often not the big things that ruin a relationship but all the little things. And though I don’t doubt your sincerity and I believe your feelings for me are real, I’ve had enough people in my life like you—people that can’t or don’t talk about their work and that come and go as the job dictates—to know that it’s not what I want for my life.”