by Tawna Fenske
There was a faint buzzing in Will’s head. He leaned against the counter, feeling dizzy. “She what?”
“You heard me, Will,” April said, folding her arms over her chest in a way that was reminiscent of every fight they’d ever had. “And you probably already knew most of that. In fact, I’m guessing the reason Marley called is that you accused her of losing the figurines. And I’m guessing you accused her because you love her, and if you love someone, you’re on the lookout for how they might fail you or betray your trust or—”
“Cut to the chase, April,” he snapped, feeling each of her words like a punch to the gut. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“I think you do, Will.”
He sighed. “How did I become the bad guy here? Marley’s the one who lost the figurines.”
“Marley didn’t lose the figurines. They were stolen.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Because I stole them.”
Will blinked. “Come again?”
“This is where I refrain from making the filthy joke you and Bethany would make about coming,” she said. “I stole the figurines.”
The teakettle began to scream and Will jumped. He pushed it off the burner, but didn’t pick it up. Somehow, making tea didn’t seem right in the moment. “You have a knack for shock value, April.”
“I’m not trying to shock you. I’m trying to explain why I did it.”
“I’m waiting.”
She sighed. “I know those figurines have been Aunt Nancy’s pride and joy for years, and that she assumed they were worth a lot of money. Remember when she asked me to help get her will in order a few years ago?”
“No.”
“Well, she did. So I had a number of her valuables appraised.”
“Including the figurines.”
“Of course.” She hesitated, choosing her words with caution. “The pieces aren’t real Native American artifacts, Will. They’re just contemporary art made to look rustic. At most, they’re about fifty years old and not worth very much at all.”
“I’m still not seeing what this has to do with your sudden urge to become a thief.”
April shook her head, looking at him as though he was a very dense child. “I wanted to protect Nancy. I was as surprised as you were when Nancy suddenly decided to donate them. I knew she’d find out they weren’t real, and it would just break her heart. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“And you didn’t think having them stolen would break her heart?”
“Not as much as learning something she loved, something she treasured, something she held dear and believed in with all her heart wasn’t what she thought it was.” April’s voice had risen to a soft shout, and she fell silent now, waiting for the words to sink in. “You can understand that, can’t you?”
There was a faint buzzing in Will’s ears. It was the sound of his brain trying to wrap itself around what his ex-wife was saying. “How—”
“I figured out where the spare key is kept in the administration office,” she said. “When I was catering that event last week, I snuck in and grabbed the key and carried the figurines out in my empty catering carts.”
Will said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to say. April watched him for a moment, then stepped over to the stove and grabbed the teakettle. She turned and filled both their mugs, then dropped a blueberry tea bag into each. She rummaged in the cupboard and found a jar of honey, stirring some into her tea before setting it to steep.
Will stayed silent the whole time, still too stunned to move.
“Say something, Will.”
“I don’t like honey in my tea.”
April smiled, but pushed the mug toward him anyway. “Try it and see. Sometimes tastes change.”
“Is that another lesson I’m supposed to follow?”
April sighed. “Will, when you and I got married, I really didn’t know I preferred—”
“Sipping-the-mango-nectar?” Will grimaced. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I didn’t know I was a lesbian. Not for certain. And you didn’t know that about me either.”
“Obviously.”
“So stop beating yourself up.”
He frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Stop feeling guilty for holding me prisoner. For making me be someone I wasn’t. You didn’t do that to me. People are complicated. They have different sides, different things they like or don’t like. Preferences change, or maybe they were always there but they reveal themselves at inconvenient times.”
Will blinked down at his mug, wondering if he’d been too hard on Marley, too hard on April, too hard on himself. He picked up his mug, blowing into the steam and breathing in the scent of blueberries and home and Marley.
“Say something, Will,” April said, her voice pleading.
Will took a sip of tea and set the mug down. “I like the honey after all,” he said. “And that wasn’t a euphemism.”
April smiled and blew on her tea before taking a sip. “It’s very good.”
Will waited for her to call it lovely, to offer him the sweet, reassuring smile that told him everything would be okay even when they both knew it wouldn’t.
Instead, April gave him a wicked grin. “It’s fucking great tea.”
Will laughed and took a sip of his own. “So what happens now with the figurines? Is Aunt Nancy having a conniption?”
April shook her head. “You know what’s funny? I don’t think she was that surprised.”
“Really?”
“Deep down, I think she already knew.”
Will nodded. “Me too.”
He waited for her to ask whether he was talking about the figurines or their marriage. It was the same answer either way.
Instead, April smiled and touched his arm. “You know the number one lesson I’ve learned from watching you with Bethany?”
“How to make crude jokes to diffuse awkward situations?”
“That’s number two.”
“Poop jokes are low-class.”
“Shut up, Will.” She shook her head. “The number one thing you’ve taught me is the value of forgiveness and unconditional love.”
“Hmph,” Will said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Aunt Nancy will forgive me eventually,” she said. “Just like you and Marley will forgive each other.”
She reached out and took the tea mug out of his hand, then gave him a gentle shove on the back. “Now get to it.”
Chapter 21
Marley stood in the dim light of the otter display at Cheez Whiz and stared into the blue-green water of the tank. It was ten p.m., but Bridget the otter was hard at work making laps in the tank.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Marley?” Susan asked, turning away from the display and stepping close enough to touch Marley’s arm.
Marley nodded and looked at her boss. “Those figurines went missing on my watch. It’s only a matter of time until that becomes public knowledge. In light of what I just told you about my last job, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest if I just go quietly.”
“But the private detective might find—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Marley swallowed hard and looked back at the tank. “I’ll know that valuable artifacts went missing while I was in charge of them, and that’s not okay.”
Susan nodded and looked back at the water. “I appreciate you letting me know right away.”
Marley shrugged. “I’m glad you were still here at work. I wanted to let you know in person. This seemed like the right place.”
They both watched Bridget some more. Had it been just two weeks ago when they’d stood here preparing for the first board meeting? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
The door opened behind them, a
nd Bed walked in. She wore a deep frown and a diamond-studded rabbit pin on the lapel of her jacket.
“This better be good, young lady,” Bed snapped, striding over to Marley. “You know how far it is for me to drive into town, and at this hour—”
“I’m resigning,” Marley interrupted, drawing herself up straight.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m resigning from my position. Effective immediately.”
The silence hung there for a moment, and Marley let it. No more jumping in to fill it for the sake of making someone more comfortable. No more stupid chatter about mauve rabbits and feigned interest in golf.
“And another thing,” Marley said, folding her arms over her chest. “Your ironclad rules about dress codes and dating between board members and employees? They’re stupid.”
Bed drew herself up in a huff. “Young lady—”
“Don’t young lady me. The way you treat people is disrespectful and patronizing. No one’s had the balls to say it to you before because you’re richer than God, but I’m through kissing ass. And I’m done here too.”
Bed’s mouth hung open, and Marley had a serious urge to toss in one of the dead fish Susan brought for Bridget the otter. Susan touched Marley’s arm. Marley wasn’t sure if it was a silent show of support or a move to escort a disgraced employee to the door.
She never found out. The door burst open again, and all three women turned to stare.
“Stop!”
Will marched through the doorway, a crazed look in his mismatched eyes and his jacket buttoned crooked. His gaze landed on Marley, and his expression softened. He stood there for a moment just looking at her. Then he strode forward, grabbing her by the hand.
“I don’t accept,” Will said.
Marley blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t accept your resignation.” He looked at Susan, nodding. “As chairman of the board of directors, it’s my job to oversee the director of development, correct?”
Susan took a step back. “Well, technically, yes. But—”
“Then I don’t accept Marley’s resignation.”
“Will,” Susan began. “I’m not sure you understand everything going on here. There are a lot of factors at play, and Ms. Cartman is capable of making her own decisions.”
“She’s done here,” Bed snapped. “Good riddance, I say.”
“She’s not quitting,” Will said. “Not without all the information, she’s not. Marley didn’t lose those figurines. I know where they are, and I know Marley had nothing to do with their disappearance. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Marley knows she’s wanted and needed and we desperately, urgently don’t want her to go.”
Marley stared at him, too stunned to form any coherent thoughts. When she opened her mouth, she had no idea what might come out. “Are you speaking on behalf of the board of directors or yourself?”
“He’s not speaking for me,” Bed snapped.
“Shut up, Bed,” he said. “With all due respect. Until I either resign my position on the board, or grow a pair and fight you on all your stupid rules, I’m speaking as both a board chairman and a man who is wildly, madly, completely in love with you.”
Bed frowned. “But we have nothing in common.”
Will sighed. “Not you. Ms. Cartman. With Marley, dammit.” He turned to Marley and took a careful step toward her. “Marley, I love you. I love you.”
Susan blinked, then put her hand on Bed’s shoulder. “Maybe we should wait outside.”
“Absolutely not!” Bed barked.
Susan fixed her eyes on Bed with a glare so intense, even Marley shuddered.
“Right now,” Susan said, her voice terrifyingly chilly.
Bed’s eyes widened, but she gave a nod of assent. The two of them marched away, and Marley watched their backs retreating. When they were out of earshot, Marley turned back to Will.
“What the hell?” Marley asked, too stunned to come up with anything more coherent.
He grabbed both her hands. “Marley, you were right. I do have trust issues. I can’t promise they’ll go away, but I can promise I’ll do my damndest to believe in you. To believe in us. Please say you’ll stay.”
Marley looked down at their intertwined fingers. She stared at them for seconds—maybe minutes—thinking about Will and laughter and love and everything else they’d shared. She looked back up into his mismatched eyes.
“Did you know that otters hold hands?” she asked.
“What?”
She squeezed his hands hard and blinked in the dim light. “To keep from drifting apart. They do it when they sleep, so they’ll stay together even if the water gets rough.”
Will nodded and squeezed her hands in return. “After four years of my sister’s wordplay, I have to say that’s the best metaphor I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m learning to stand up for myself,” she said. “To not base my decisions on what I think other people want from me.”
“And I’m learning to trust,” Will said. Marley raised an eyebrow, and Will shrugged. “I’m a slow learner.”
Marley laughed, and Will squeezed her hand. “Seriously, I need to be better about giving you the benefit of the doubt. About realizing part of what makes you good at your job is your ability to read people and figure out what they need to hear. That isn’t such a bad thing.”
Marley smiled and looked back in the otter enclosure. “I can’t claim I’ll always know exactly who I am and that I won’t shift my interests from time to time. I can’t promise I won’t sometimes be a flake, even if I try hard to make choices for myself instead of based on what I think other people want. But I can promise you’ll always recognize me, one way or another.”
“You’re hard to miss.”
Marley grinned wider, looking into his eyes. “Scientists did a study on sheep where they showed them pictures of other sheep and gave them a reward if they moved toward a certain picture. After a while, the sheep learned to pick the same sheep’s face eighty percent of the time and could remember an image for up to two years.”
Will grinned and pulled her close. “I’m planning for longer than two years.”
Marley angled her head up to kiss him. “Me too.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Baaah.”
“Baaah,” she said, and kissed him.
Acknowledgments
While the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary (Cheez Whiz!) bears some resemblance to the Museum of the Rockies in Bozeman, Montana, and to the High Desert Museum in Bend, Oregon, those organizations are infinitely more professional and well-organized. A million thanks to Cathy Carroll and Melissa Hochschild for allowing me to pick your brains about the inner-workings of such establishments, and for not laughing when I decided a historical society/wildlife sanctuary was a great setting for romance. You ladies are class acts.
Much appreciation to the entire Visit Bend team for the endless support, and for not freaking out when I decided to set a story in the very town we’re all tasked with marketing.
Thank you to Judah McAuley for the penis research, and to our respective spouses for knowing that’s not as filthy as it sounds. Thank you to Errica Liekos for the photos of stone dildos. That’s exactly as filthy as it sounds.
I’m grateful to Malin for giving me April, along with the encouragement to write a lesbian relationship that’s wacky, loving, a little risqué, and no big deal.
Huge thanks to Elyse Douglas of Douglas Fine Jewelry Design for indulging my questions about how to get thrown in jail for selling fake jewelry, and for making my lunch hours brighter with your lovely, sparkly creations. I’m also grateful to Jamie Flanagan for being the savviest, sexiest Pure Romance consultant on the planet.
A million hugs and sloppy smooches
to my amazing critique partners, Linda Brundage, Cynthia Reese, and Linda Grimes, as well as my terrific beta readers, Larie Borden, Bridget McGinn, and Minta Powelson. I couldn’t do this without your eagle eyes and utter fearlessness when it comes to pointing out when I’ve managed to wedge my head up my butt again.
Thank you to Jessica Corra for being my sounding board and co-pilot in navigating the unexpected terrain of post-divorce authorhood and the weird, wonderful world of single fathers and their offspring. We’ve gotta write that book someday.
Thanks to the Bend Book Bitches, my RWA chaptermates, and the readers of my blog, Don’t Pet Me, I’m Writing, for unwavering support and book love.
Thanks to Deb Werksman, Danielle Dresser, Todd Stocke, and everyone else on the Sourcebooks team for being so fabulous. You guys rock!
I am eternally grateful to Michelle Wolfson, the best agent and support system any writer could hope for. Without you, I’d still be hunkered under my desk rocking back and forth drinking wine and cursing.
Thank you to my parents, Dixie and David Fenske, for every butt pat, pep talk, good laugh, or genetically shared brain cell. I owe everything to you guys. Thanks also to my baby brother, Aaron “Russ” Fenske, and his lovely bride, Carlie Fenske, for always being so genuinely eager to read my books.
Thanks to Cedar and Violet for being the most amazing little people on the planet, and a daily source of joy, laughter, and fart jokes.
And thank you to Craig for being the best reason I can imagine to write a book about finding love where you least expect it.
About the Author
Tawna Fenske traveled a career path that took her from newspaper reporter to English teacher in Venezuela to marketing geek to PR manager for her city’s tourism bureau. An avid globetrotter and social media fiend, Tawna is the author of the popular blog Don’t Pet Me, I’m Writing and a member of Romance Writers of America. She lives with her gentleman friend in Bend, Oregon, where she’ll invent any excuse to hike, bike, snowshoe, float the river, or sip wine on her back deck. She’s published several romantic comedies with Sourcebooks, including Making Waves and Believe It or Not, as well as the interactive fiction caper Getting Dumped with Coliloquy and the novella Eat, Play, Lust with Entangled Publishing.