Choosing You

by Stacy Finz

  Henry brought her the Snickers bar he’d spent so much time picking out and Brynn went searching through her purse for her wallet.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Griffin took the candy bar from her and handed it back to Henry. “It’s on the house.” He strolled over to the fountain drinks. “You want a soda with that, Henry?”

  Henry gave her a pleading look and she acquiesced, even though she didn’t like him drinking sugary drinks. The candy bar alone would have him bouncing off the walls and he was supposed to be resting, according to Ethan’s instructions.

  Ethan. She wondered what he was doing today. Was he seeing patients or working on his research?

  After yesterday, she’d hoped he would call or text. Stop being needy.

  Griffin got Henry a soda and straddled his office chair. “Thanks for meeting with me. The other day at Owen’s I could tell you knew your stuff. But”—he let out a whistle—“I had no idea you were the one who put Verizon on the map or did all those Nike ads. Jeez, you’re a freaking legend.”

  She laughed. People rarely knew the names behind the jingles. Everyone knew Rice-A-Roni was the “San Francisco treat.” But few knew that Charles Foll, vice president of the McCann-Erickson ad agency, had made it so. Or that Forest Mars, of the candy dynasty, came up with M&Ms “melts in your mouth, not in your hand” all on his own.

  “I don’t know about a legend,” she said.

  “No need for modesty. I looked you up. Oh man, that beer Super Bowl ad with the lost dog. I freaking cried my eyes out.”

  “That was a good one.” She’d loved that ad.

  He hopped up. “You want a cup of coffee or something? Jeez, I didn’t even ask.”

  “I’m fine, Griffin.”

  He grabbed the chair again. “I want to hire the Barnes Group to work up a marketing plan for Sierra Heights. I just can’t let any more houses sit another year.”

  “Henry and I took a drive through it. I hope that’s okay. The gate was open and no one was in the guard kiosk, so I assumed—”

  “Of course.” He waved her off. “Whaddya think?”

  “I thought it was gorgeous. I’m far from an expert on California real estate . . . any real estate for that matter . . . but I can’t believe they’re not selling.”

  “It’s the location. We’re too far from the city, too far from the slopes, too far from the ocean. We’re not known for our wine or our five-star accommodations, though the Lumber Baron is a gem. The best we have to offer is that a few miles away from here, in 1847, the Donner Party came through, got stranded in the snow and had to eat each other to stay alive. Unless you’re a Stephen King fan, probably not a huge draw.”

  “I see the dilemma. But Griffin, the Barnes Group is an advertising agency and what you want is a marketing firm. A good one will cost a fortune. I’m not sure it’s cost effective. You can do this yourself and I can give you guidance. The trick here is not to just sell homes but to sell a lifestyle. First, you have to figure out what that lifestyle is. Is it luxury living? Is it getting in touch with the great outdoors? Is it retiring in the country?”

  “Yeah, it’s all of those.”

  “I think you’re right but you have to condense it down into one message that will resonate with buyers. Something simple, like “Life on a Vineyard” or “Life at the Lake” or the “Nature of Happiness,” or “Wild at Heart.” See how those taglines evoke a vision? Basically, you’re branding Sierra Heights, creating a story that calls to buyers and differentiates your planned community from the rest.”

  “Okay, how ‘bout we use one of those last ones? I like ‘Wild at Heart.’”

  She laughed. “I think those have all been taken. We can come up with something unique to Sierra Heights. Something that tells the story of the Sierra Nevada and compels people to want to live here. Let me kick some ideas around. Once we know the story, you have to build a website that conjures the brand. Lots of pictures and a narrative that sets expectations for what it would be like to live in Sierra Heights. Then, you decide on a budget and advertising strategy of where to place ads. I’d start with luxury magazines that cater to the Bay Area and Los Angeles. Maybe some high-end nature magazines. But first we have a lot of work to do.”

  “Does that mean you’re on board?”

  She hadn’t meant to be. Her focus was on getting Henry well. But the challenge spoke to her. Besides, she needed something to occupy her time while she was here.

  “As much as I can be. My first priority, though, is Henry.”

  “Got it. We need to work out a payment arrangement.”

  She waved her hand in the air. “Let’s see how much time I can dedicate to it, first.” This was for fun, not money.

  Henry started giving her that look. The one that told her he was bored senseless and they needed to go.

  “I’ll call you later this week with some ideas. How’s that?”

  He made a heart with his fingers and pumped it next to his chest. She found him utterly charming.

  “You ready to go, Henry?” As if she had to ask.

  She checked her phone on the way out. Still nothing from Ethan. Maybe he had such deep remorse over what they’d done that he was distancing himself from her. The possibility of that filled her with regret, which was ridiculous. She hardly knew him. Yet, from the moment they’d met she’d been attracted. Once again, she questioned whether she was experiencing some sort of savior complex but knew she wasn’t. Since the accident there’d been lots of doctors traipsing through their lives. ER, neurologists, specialists of every stripe and color, including a psychologist.

  She hadn’t slept with one of them. Only Ethan.

  “Mom, I’m hungry.”

  “Okay, we’ve got three choices: The Ponderosa, the Bun Boy, or I could heat up soup at home.”

  “The Bun Boy.”

  “We’ll have to eat in the car.”

  He thought it over. “Let’s eat at the Ponderosa, then.”

  Good choice. She wasn’t in the mood for munching on hamburgers and greasy fries in a cold car. They drove the few blocks to the square and Brynn did the wheelchair shuffle. She was going to look great in a sleeveless dress this summer.

  Alma was in the restaurant at a table of women. Three of them Brynn had met, including Maddy from the Lumber Baron. They waved her over to join them. Even though she and Henry had only been in Nugget a few weeks, she already felt like she belonged.

  “Is there room for Henry’s chair?” She didn’t want to crowd them.

  Donna, the woman from the Bun Boy, dragged another table over and everyone rotated chairs to redistribute the seating.

  “This okay?” she whispered in Henry’s ear.

  He shrugged, realizing his fate had already been sealed and that perhaps he could work the situation to his advantage by pressing for apple pie for dessert. She remembered the candy bar and soda at the Gas and Go.

  “Let’s see how you do with real food, first.” She wasn’t above bribing him. His appetite had continued to wax and wane. Mostly wane. Unless of course sweets were on the menu.

  Maddy introduced Brynn to everyone. Brynn, who was usually good with names, got lost at about the third new face. Her mind was elsewhere today. She’d been sneaking furtive glances at her phone since they got to the table.

  The women were talking about someone named Raylene, which reminded Brynn of the Dolly Parton song, “Jolene.” Raylene was expecting and they were planning a baby shower.

  “We could do it at the Lumber Baron or at the rec room at Sierra Heights,” said a red-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar. Maybe Brynn had seen her around town before.

  “I guess under the circumstances, Lucky’s barn is out of the question,” Donna said and threw her head back and laughed.

  “She, Lucky and Tawny are fine now,” said Clay’s wife, Emily. “But I like the
idea of the inn, especially if we do just women?”

  The red head nodded. “For sure. But before we make a definitive decision we should talk to Annie. She might want to have it at The Farm.”

  A server came to take their orders and the discussion moved from shower planning to Brynn. Everyone was curious about her life in New York and what it was like to be an advertising executive.

  “Who came up with the Bun Boy logo design?” Brynn asked Donna.

  “Me, myself and I. I consider myself a connoisseur of buns.”

  Everyone at the table laughed.

  “It’s fabulous.” Brynn got a kick out of it every time she drove by the hamburger stand. That little bun butt was quite clever.

  “My husband, Nate, and I should talk to you,” The red head . . . Sam . . . said. “Nate’s the founder and CEO of Breyer Hotels. We have eleven properties, including the Lumber Baron, the Gold Mountain resort in Glory Junction and the Theodore, our flagship hotel in San Francisco. We could use a branding facelift.”

  “The Theodore?” It couldn’t be. The Theodore she knew was one of the most storied hotels in San Francisco. It had played host to some of the most famous people in the world, including presidents, royalty and Hollywood starlets. It had to be owned by Wyndham or Hilton or one of those other giant hotel conglomerates.

  Sam broke into a big smile. “Yep, that Theodore. We’re so proud of it.”

  “Wow. It may just be my favorite hotel in the world.” A few years ago, she’d stayed there with her parents while her father was guest conducting at the San Francisco Symphony. A dozen taglines came to mind. A place for kings. A mark above the rest. Luxury unrivaled. “Anytime. I’ll be here awhile.” She slipped Sam her business card.

  “Don’t forget the Lumber Baron,” Maddy said. “The Theodore gets plenty of love. My sweet little B&B could use some, too.”

  “You don’t need me for the Lumber Baron. You’ve got that lovely husband of yours. When he drove Henry and me to Reno he couldn’t stop talking about the inn. You should put him on your marketing payroll.”

  Maddy grinned. “He is pretty great, isn’t he?”

  Now there was a couple still in love, Brynn thought with a pang of envy.

  “He told me about your scary ride. I’m so glad he could get you there.”

  “Me too,” Brynn said. “Thank you for having such an amazing husband.”

  The conversation and wine flowed. These women could drink. Brynn had to drive so she didn’t even try to keep up. But the afternoon had been lovely. She’d learned that Alma was an Emmy Award winning journalist, Emily a popular cookbook author and Samantha Breyer was the chief event planner for Breyer Hotels. There was nothing like the camaraderie of women. Smart, accomplished women.

  Most of all, though, the afternoon had taken her mind off all the possible reasons Ethan hadn’t contacted her.

  She gave Henry a sideways glance. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

  “It was kind of boring. And that one lady, the one from the Bun Boy, she talks a lot.”

  Donna Thurston was a kick, that’s for sure. She reminded Brynn a little of Lexi. Both ballsy women, who suffered from the lack of a filter. It’s what Brynn loved most about Lexi.

  She still hadn’t decided whether to tell her best friend that she’d slept with Ethan. It wasn’t that Lexi would have a problem with the ethics of it. It was more that Lexi had always adored Mason. Even though Lexi had been aware that Brynn’s marriage was on shaky ground, she’d dismissed their problems as a rough patch. Despite the situation, Lexi had still held Brynn and Mason up as her model of what a perfect couple should look like. Sleeping with Ethan so soon after the accident would probably weird Lexi out.

  But it had been eight months.

  Mason’s dead. Am I supposed to stay celibate forever?

  And it wasn’t as if she was certain of Mason’s fidelity in those last years of marriage. Though her gut told her she’d probably been wrong, there was a time or two that she suspected Mason of having affairs. There’d been no tell-tale signs—no lipstick on his collar, phone calls in the middle of the night, or discrepancies in their checking account—but his emotional absence from their relationship had been suspicious.

  It was as if he’d turned into a ghost, occupying their Manhattan penthouse, a translucent fixture that rarely spoke and only stayed because he didn’t know how to leave.

  Oddly, despite the tension—or maybe because of it—they’d still slept together. But the sex had been perfunctory, like two strangers looking for physical contact without an actual connection.

  Although he’d vehemently denied it, Brynn thought he might suffer from depression. The only time he seemed happy or present was when he bagged a big account or had gone on one of his adventure trips. It was as if he needed that adrenaline rush to make him feel alive.

  There was one constant in their marriage, though. And it was Mason’s love for Henry. He doted on their son. And Henry loved his father so much that it had been the hardest part of losing Mason.

  On their drive home, she made a decision not to tell Lexi. Her one time with Ethan—and it appeared that there would only be a once, judging by his radio silence—would be Brynn’s secret.

  “How you feeling, baby?” She subconsciously smoothed Henry’s hair as they pulled through the Circle D gate. “You tired?”

  “No. When we get home can we go see the horses?”

  “Sure. I bet they’d like a treat.” She’d bought a bag of baby carrots that Henry hadn’t touched. At least they wouldn’t go to waste.

  She noted Ethan’s old truck was parked in his driveway. There went her rationalization that he’d been too busy to call. She felt her heart shrink.

  When they got to the cottage, she unloaded Henry’s chair, thinking again about the boon to her biceps. In Manhattan, there was always a driver or doorman to do the heavy lifting.

  She got as far as the front patio when she saw it. A bundle of flowers. She called it a bundle because it wasn’t your garden-variety FTD bouquet. Wrapped in a handtied burlap bag was every kind of bloom imaginable. It looked like it weighed more than a small child and had that farmhouse country style—the pretense of being rustic and haphazard when it was anything but—that was all the rage in New York.

  It was either from her parents or Lexi. Though Layla and Rich were also a possibility.

  Henry was as intrigued as she was. “Read the card, Mom.”

  Instead of the obligatory white envelope, it was a simple cardboard tag that had been stamped with black typeface that read, “Made with love by The Farm.” At the bottom of the tag, someone had scrawled a signature. She read it a few times before she made out the name. Ethan.

  That was all. Just Ethan. And her shrinking heart began to soar.

  Chapter 17

  Henry didn’t seem to find it strange that his doctor sent his mother flowers (Brynn assumed they were for her and not Henry). With the mystery of who’d signed the cardboard tag solved, he wheeled his chair into the living room, flopped onto the couch and flipped on the TV.

  “Take off your jacket,” she told him and quickly switched on the heat.

  In one of the cabinets she found a vase she hoped was large enough. On second thought, she went outside and fetched a galvanized metal watering can from the patio. She fussed with the arrangement for a little while and stood back to admire how pretty it was.

  Then she took her phone to her bedroom and called Ethan.

  “I got your flowers. They’re beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like them.” She could hear a smile in his voice. “I wanted to call but had back-to-back surgeries starting early this morning. I just got home about thirty minutes ago. Stopped at The Farm on my way.”

  “What exactly is The Farm?” Its delightful packaging had her intrigued.

  “It’s Annie and Logan Jenki
ns’s place. She grows everything from produce to flowers and sells them, along with other local delicacies, at a farm stand at the road’s end of her property. I’ll take you there sometime. You’d like it. What are you doing for dinner?”

  “We don’t have plans. We had lunch at the Ponderosa. We saw Alma there and a few of her friends and wound up joining them. Why? You have something in mind?” She hoped so. It had barely been twenty-four hours since she’d seen him last and was jonesing to see him again.

  “There’s a Mexican place a few towns down. Just a taqueria but it’s good. Even Alma likes it and she’s pretty particular about her Mexican food. I thought the two of us could take a ride later. Alma volunteered to babysit the kids. She’s making her famous mac and cheese.”

  The only time she’d left Henry since the accident was while he was at school. The idea of leaving him now terrified her.

  Ethan must’ve sensed her discomfort with leaving Henry because he said, “Brynn, he’ll be fine. Alma will take good care of him, just like she does Roni.” It was a reminder that he trusted his stepmother with the day-to-day care of his daughter.

  But it wasn’t Alma she didn’t trust. It was the never-ending loop that ran through her head of Henry flying off an ATV at eighty mph—the speed authorities said Mason was going—and her not being there to save him.

  “Brynn, if you’re not comfortable with it the four of us can go together.”

  “Um, if we’re not out too long it might be okay.”

  “Whatever you want to do. It’s your decision.”

  “I promised I’d take him to see the horses. Can we do that first?”

  “Roni and I will be right over.”

  A short time later, he and Veronica came down the hill and something in her tummy did a back flip. Brynn wasn’t sure whether it was his rugged good looks—that square jaw got her every time—or the way he carried himself with all the confidence of a man whose life work was saving children.

  He looked at her like he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her but for the children’s sake settled for a big, sloppy grin. That smile did funny things to Brynn’s insides.