by A. J. Wynter
LAUREN SQUINTED AS Charlotte’s car emerged into the light of day as they entered the Sugar Peaks side of town. The local radio station had issued a weather warning, but Charlotte lowered the volume when they started into their corny jokes.
“What did you mean about the ukulele?” Charlotte asked. “Are you really losing your mind?”
Lauren rubbed her forehead. “It’s so weird. Every time I try to remember what happened, I can just smell the coffee beans and hear a ukulele playing.”
Charlotte kept her eyes on the road, but Lauren could see her sneaking glances at her from behind her oversized sunglasses. “So, you were getting coffee and fainted.”
“No, I was having a meeting. A business meeting,” Lauren quickly corrected.
“Right, with the developer,” Charlotte said. She steered the car onto her wide heated driveway and put the car into park. She pulled her sunglasses off and turned to face Lauren. “Maybe the doctor is right. This case might be a bit much for you. Can you get some help?”
The heat rushed to Lauren’s face. “I can handle it.”
“Well, your medical records say otherwise,” Charlotte said. “Look, Lauren. I know what stress can do to a person. I just don’t want you to get sick.”
Lauren sighed. She knew that her sister was just worried about her.
“Eddie Vedder,” Lauren said.
“What?” Charlotte’s brow was knitted.
“There wasn’t a live band at the café. The developer. His ringtone was a song by Eddie Vedder.”
“The one from that movie?”
“Into the Wild,” Lauren murmured.
“Lauren,” Charlotte pointed at her. “Your hands, they’re trembling.”
Lauren held her hands out in front of her and sure enough, they were visibly shaking.
“Let’s get you inside,” Charlotte said. She hopped out of the car and ran over to the passenger side to help Lauren into the house.
Once Lauren was settled on Charlotte’s sofa, the fireplace warming the great room, Charlotte delivered her a cup of tea and sat down beside her.
“I’m worried about you,” Charlotte said.
Lauren sighed. It wasn’t stress. It wasn’t anxiety. The biggest secret of her life, one that had been dormant for ten years, had just come alive in the very worst way possible. “Charlotte, I have to tell you something and you’re going to think that I’m crazy.”
Chapter 12
THE DINING ROOM TABLE was layered in architectural renderings and topographical maps.
“Whoa, boss, what’s all this?” Thomas asked as he walked into the room wearing a plush white robe.
Baxter looked up from the maps. “Someone’s taking casual Friday to a new level,” he laughed.
“Oh, this?” Thomas chuckled. “We’re talking strategy in the hot tub.” He pointed to the steamy patio doors. “I could get used to this office.”
“Looks like you already are.” Baxter didn’t care. As long as they were getting work done, they could run around naked with flower crowns on their heads. He pointed to the maps. “I’m trying to figure out how to keep the density of the project, with a little less sprawl into this...” He pointed to the grizzly bear habitat.
“Oh, come on. It’s not going to come to that,” Thomas scoffed.
Baxter sighed. He knew that Thomas was right. The town, the advocates, they could all fight them, but at the end of the day, Caldwell International had millions more to spend on the fight. “But what if she’s right?” Baxter asked. “What if this project causes serious environmental damage?”
Thomas sighed. “There’s always a cost to development, Bax.” He pointed to the 3d model. “If you’re developing some kind of conscience, why not look at the economical impacts of the project. Once we’re done with this place, you’re not going to recognize this butt-fuck middle of nowhere town.”
“Do you think that’s what’s best though?” he asked. His question wasn’t addressed to Thomas. He knew his executives’ position, mow down the trees and bring on the concrete, and for the first time in a long time, he could see the impact Caldwell International made in real life. He looked out the window at the mountain peaks, the cut blocks where the loggers had clear-cut were scattered like patchwork across the mountains. His executives had no idea that their fearless leader had once been the black sheep of the Caldwell family. That he had spent his teenage years running away from the extravagance of their billion-dollar life to the solitude of the mountains. Every tree he planted gave him hope that somehow, he was offsetting the damage his family was inflicting on the environment.
“Who cares?” Thomas grinned. He raised his coffee mug at Baxter and padded out to the hot tub in his spa slippers.
Baxter sat down at the table and pulled up Lauren’s report. Attached was her environmental and economic report, prepared by one of the best firms in the state. His assistant had provided him with the executive summary, but now, Baxter pulled on his thick black-framed glasses and started to read the two-hundred-pages of technical details.
As he read the words, he could hear Lauren’s voice as though she were sitting beside him, reading the findings, imploring him to listen to her. Baxter picked up his phone, typed in a quick text message to Lauren and then deleted it. By the time he finished reading the report, he had typed and deleted nine text messages to Lauren.
Was he a coward? Should he have gone to the hospital with the unconscious woman? He had never seen anyone faint in real life before and it had scared him. Every fiber in his being wanted to call her, to make sure that she was okay. One minute she was yelling at him, the next she was crumpled in his arms.
Are you okay? Just checking in he typed. He held his finger over the send button. Getting too close to Lauren would be bad for everyone involved, especially his company. But a gentleman would check in, right? He inhaled sharply and then clicked delete.
He needed to keep his enemy at arm’s length.
Deleting the message was a business decision. One that would keep his company safe. That’s what he told himself as he slid his phone into the pocket of his leather briefcase. Deep down, he knew that there was only one person who could unravel him, only one person who could ruin everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. He was not only going to have to fight her every step of the way, but he was also going to have to fight his desire for her. Despising, maybe even hating her, was the only way to keep his company, and his heart, safe.
Chapter 13
CHARLOTTE’S PHONE VIBRATED. “Don’t you need to get that?” Lauren pointed to the phone that had migrated its way to the edge of the glass table.
Charlotte eased onto the sofa. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Lauren squeezed her hands, wringing them in her lap. She didn’t know where to start. “Something weird happened today,” she said.
“You think?” Charlotte said. “You passed out cold and woke up in the hospital.”
Lauren still couldn’t believe what had happened. “It isn’t exhaustion, or work, or stress.” She took a sip of her tea. “Well, it might be stress, but it’s not about work or Sugar Peaks. Actually...” she paused. “It is kind of about Sugar Peaks...” her voice petered out.
“Spit it out,” Charlotte said.
Her hands shook as she held the mug, the tea precariously close to spilling on Charlotte’s expensive sofa. She didn’t know how to explain that she was seeing things, that ghosts from the past had shown up in Chance Rapids. “Do you remember when I took the cleaning job at the heli-ski lodge?”
“Of course,” Charlotte nodded. “Mom was sick, and you had to.”
Lauren took a sip of her tea. “I told you that I didn’t know the name of the guy that got me pregnant.”
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. “You knew?”
Ten years earlier, Lauren had decided that she was going to raise Tabitha on her own. She had thought about trying to find the tree planter, but the only thing she knew about him was that his name wa
s Brock. “He was a guest at the lodge. I knew his first name. That’s it.”
“Lauren,” Charlotte gasped. “Frank could’ve found him.”
“That’s the thing.” Lauren looked down into her Earl Grey tea. “I didn’t want to find him.”
Charlotte sat up a little straighter. Lauren knew that she wouldn’t understand. The two of them, even though they shared DNA, were not cut from the same cloth. “He could’ve helped you.” Charlotte reached out and grabbed Lauren’s hand. “What if...”
“What if what?” Lauren pulled her hand from her sister’s grip. “What if he wanted her? I was working two jobs and barely scraping by. What if he had taken her away from me?”
“I didn’t think about that,” Charlotte said. “I just saw how much you sacrificed, how hard you worked.”
“It was my choice,” Lauren said. “I couldn’t risk losing Tabby. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“I love Tabitha too,” Charlotte said. “But Lauren, your life was so hard. Imagine what you could’ve done. Where you could be now.”
Lauren knew that her sister was coming from a good place, but it didn’t soften the harshness of her words. “Where I could be now?” She couldn’t meet her sister’s judgemental gaze.
Charlotte sighed loudly. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I may not have millions of dollars in the bank or an ostentatious mansion,” Lauren said gesturing around the huge great room, “but I’m exactly where I want to be, I wouldn’t change anything, Char.”
“Okay,” Charlotte conceded. “What does this have to do with what happened today?”
“I think that saw him.”
“Tabitha’s father?” Charlotte whispered.
“It can’t be, but...”
“At the coffee shop?” Charlotte interrupted.
“Yes.” Lauren hesitated. “At the coffee shop.”
Charlotte shifted closer to her sister. “How do you know it wasn’t him?”
Lauren’s shoulders slumped and she shook her head, thinking back to the breakfast meeting. “He has a different name.”
“I’m missing something,” Charlotte said. “Did you just see him? How do you know his name?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Lauren murmured. She took a deep breath. “Baxter Caldwell.”
“What about him?” Charlotte said. She took a sip of her tea and then spit it back into her cup. “You mean Baxter Caldwell is Tabby’s father?”
“My gut is telling me it’s him, but it can’t be. He looks different. Ten years ago, the guy had a beard and long hair and worked as a tree planter.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “Baxter’s a trust fund kid, not a hippie.”
“You think I’m crazy,” Lauren huffed.
“I think that you’re working too hard.” Charlotte brushed invisible lint off her pants.
“Maybe you’re right,” Lauren said. “But Char, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” Charlotte smiled.
“Can you find out if Baxter Caldwell has a brother named Brock?”
Charlotte yelped as her mug slipped out of her hand, “Shit.” She hopped up and ran to the kitchen to grab a dishtowel. The coffee had pooled in the indent in the leather where she had been sitting.
“Are you alright? Did you get burned?” Lauren followed her sister into the kitchen. She took the towel from her hand and jogged back to press it onto the leather cushion to sop up the liquid.
“I’m okay, but these pants are ruined though.” Charlotte dabbed at the wet fabric.
Lauren came back to the kitchen and wrung the dishtowel out in the sink.
“Lauren,” Charlotte grabbed her hand. “You’re not crazy. I gave Baxter Caldwell a ride into town today.”
Lauren looked at her sister. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think anything of it, until now.” Charlotte’s grip on Lauren’s arm was starting to cut off her circulation. “Lauren, Baxter Caldwell’s real name is Brock.”
“Oh, my god.” The gravity of the situation hit Lauren. She grabbed the marble countertop to steady herself. Charlotte wrapped her arms around Lauren’s waist. “Breathe,” Charlotte ordered.
“Oh, my god,” Lauren repeated. “You gave Tabitha’s father a ride today, with Tabitha in the car.”
“Oh, my god.” It was Charlotte’s turn. “Holy shit.”
“Holy shit is right.” Lauren slipped out from her sister’s arms and slid down the kitchen counters into a tiny ball on the floor. She wrapped her arms around her shins and buried her face in her knees. “What do I do now?”
“Do you think he recognized you?” Charlotte asked.
“It was ten years ago. If he does, he certainly doesn’t show it.” Lauren’s stomach was roiling. Her simple small-town life just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
Chapter 14
“DOES IT EVER STOP SNOWING here?” Thomas asked. The Caldwell team was trudging up the snow-covered steps of the town hall.
“That’s what makes it perfect,” Baxter said. He glanced around, looking for any sign of a certain lawyer. He had managed to go five days without running into her and during that time, his team had modified the plans for the resort expansion project. The changes weren’t exactly what their opposition wanted, but Baxter hoped that their willingness to make some concessions would be a show of good faith.
“I could never live like this.” Nicole shook the snow off her hat as they stepped into the mayor’s office.
“I think you’d get used to it,” Baxter said, helping her out of her parka.
“I think I’d get used to sand and the ocean, not cold gray and snow,” she said.
“Yeah, this town is depressing,” Barry piped up.
“Depressing?” The door to the office closed and the four of them turned to face a short gray-haired woman with years of smiled lines etched into her cheeks. “Shirley Smythe,” the woman said. “Mayor Smythe.”
Shit. Baxter thought to himself. Not the greatest first impression. He cut his eyes at Barry who shrugged almost imperceptibly. He knew that he had fucked up.
“Baxter Caldwell.” Baxter pulled off his wool hat and reached out his hand to the mayor. “Thank you for meeting with us.”
Shirley strode past the group to take a seat in the massive leather chair behind her solid oak desk. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the well-worn chairs in front of her desk. “That is if you’re not too depressed to sit down.”
“What Barry meant was...” Baxter tried to think of an excuse for his executive. “He’s having a hard time working with a mountain full of snow ready for skiing. Isn’t that what you meant, Barry?”
“Exactly,” Barry said. “I can’t wait to get out there and go skiing.”
“I hear you,” Shirley smiled, “I was able to shred a few laps before work. You should get up earlier.”
Baxter chuckled. The mayor had to be in her eighties but was throwing out ski lingo like a seventeen-year-old. “How’s the pow?” Baxter asked.
“Knee deep,” Shirley said. “We should be having our meeting in the gondola.”
Baxter laughed.
“I’m serious,” Shirley said. She shuffled the papers on her desk and then crossed her hands in front of her. “I hear that you have an updated master plan to present to the council?”
“We do,” Thomas said. He set the cardboard tube on Mayor Smythe’s desk and pulled out the amended drawings. Thomas proceeded to go through all of the changes that the group had made. Baxter smiled as he watched his team in action. Mayor Smythe nodded as Thomas outlined the changes. His smile faded when the Mayor sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“This is a start,” she said. “I’ve been the mayor of Chance Rapids for twenty years. During that time, there has been a lot of change, but every decision has been made with the best interests of the Rapidians. I don’t care if this will bring thousands of people to our town, if it me
ans that the quality of life for my fellow residents will be impacted negatively, I won’t have it.
“Mayor Smy—”
The mayor interrupted Baxter, “Let me finish.” She held up her arthritic-looking hand. “You’ve made some good changes here, but I need you to get it.”
“Get it?” Baxter said.
“It’s a small town.” Shirley handed the tube of drawings back to Thomas. “People talk. I know that you and your crew haven’t left your fancy, catered chalet all week.”
It was true, they had hunkered down to get the changes done. “We wanted to make sure that these plans were ready for council’s review,” Baxter explained.
“And I appreciate that,” Shirley said. “If we’re going to proceed with a big development like this, I need to know that the developers understand what it’s like to live here, how the locals live. Show me that you actually care about the town and I’ll grant you your hearing.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Thomas wasn’t trying very hard to hide his irritation.
“Go talk to people. Find out why they live here, what makes this town so different. You might be surprised.”
Baxter realized that they were going about this process all wrong. He was trying to bring his big-city square peg attitude and trying to shove it into the round hole of small-town mentality.
“Can you do that?” Thomas asked. “I mean, this is business.”
Baxter kicked Thomas’s foot. “Is there anything specific you’d like us to do?”
“Yeah,” Thomas echoed. “I don’t see how this is going to change anything.”
Shirley took a gold-plated pen from its holder on her desk and proceeded to write on a pad of paper. She ripped it off and handed it to Baxter. “Here are some suggestions.” He glanced down at the perfect cursive penmanship. “I also have these.” Shirley handed Baxter a manila envelope.