After the Climb

by Kristen Ashley

  “I’ll try not to get a big head. Now go do something useful, like, I don’t know, study. I need to call your brother.”

  “Later, Pops.”

  “Later, kid.”

  They disconnected and he went right to Sullivan.

  Sully engaged immediately.

  And while Duncan was in the process of saying, “Hey, son,” Sully asked, “Does Mom know?”

  “You’ve seen the picture with Genny,” Duncan deduced.

  “If you mean the one with Imogen Swan, yes. Does Mom know?”

  “Your mother and I are past the point where we share about these kinds of things,” he said cautiously.

  “Yeah, when you were dating Betsy, even if that was getting serious, though it didn’t go that way. But this is her and Mom knows about her.”

  Duncan went very still.

  Of course Dora knew about Genny. He’d told her. She was his wife. He shared everything with her. And he did that before she was his wife.

  What he did not know was how his son knew that.

  Before he could ask after that, Sully stated, “And this is gonna mess her right up.”

  “Your mom is solid, Sul,” he assured. “She’s found a therapist she’s connected with. She understands the obsessive paths her mind can lead her on. And she now has the mental tools to avoid them, and she uses those tools.”

  “It was her.”

  “What?”

  “It started with her.”

  “What are you saying, Sullivan?”

  “Imogen Swan. What kicked it all off. Ground zero. Her being yours. It’s what kicked it all off. It was her.”

  Duncan’s chest started burning. “How do you know this?”

  “That time you were up in Oregon. Opening the store in Bend. Do you remember that?”

  Shit.

  That had been a particularly bad episode with Dora.

  “Yes,” he bit out.

  “You asked her to come with you. You even begged her to come with you. I heard her. She said you had to go alone. It was a test.”

  There had been a number of tests with Dora.

  He’d always failed.

  “I remember this, Sully.”

  And he did.

  He just hated his son had heard this and he had no idea, until then, that he had.

  “Well, Gage was on that camping trip with Jack. And I was at a sleepover at Wyatt’s, but Wyatt got to not feeling good and his mom brought me home. And when I came in, Mom was on the phone with you. And she was losing it with you.”

  Duncan said nothing.

  He thought he was beyond the disappointment, and at times fury, other times frustrating impotence, and other times debilitating sadness, of what had become of his wife and their marriage.

  But the fury was returning.

  “I remember this clearly, Sully, and I didn’t know you didn’t have that sleepover,” Duncan stated.

  “Yeah, because she made me promise not to tell you because of what happened after she hung up on you.”

  Yes.

  Fury.

  “She made me lie to you, Dad. And that sucked. It really pissed me off. Because you never lied to us. You made a big deal of it. And there I was, Mom making me lie to you.”

  Mm-hmm.

  Fury.

  He could not deny he had guilt, feeling it, since Dora was unwell.

  However, that was not news even back then.

  But it couldn’t be erased, the number of therapists she’d fired because “we don’t connect.” And his constant offers that she remain at his side, even when he was at work in his office in town, so he could show her whenever he left her, it was not about another woman. Offers she did not accept.

  He was not a man who thought he’d allow any illness, no matter the cause of it, to end his marriage.

  But as he’d have to face the consequences of a wife who decided to treat cancer with homeopathic remedies that had no hope of rooting out that disease, he faced the consequences of a wife who had lucid stretches of understanding something was terribly wrong, and deciding to take the path of denial and not treatment.

  That was Dora’s.

  And eventually, she’d owned it.

  Unfortunately, by the time she’d done that, not only was their divorce final—and it being further after he’d endured more abuse from her accusing him of picking up with “his women” after he “got done with her,” when, for her sake, he hadn’t started dating—she’d finally found a therapist who could reach her.

  But it was too late.

  Because he’d met Betsy.

  He hadn’t started anything with her, but he’d met her, and he intended to start something.

  He did.

  Betsy had since moved to Park City, a move that Duncan was not willing to make with her, and she was not willing to stay in Prescott, which told the tale of how committed they truly were, and that ended.

  But now it was Imogen.

  And he had no idea what Genny had to do with anything.

  He’d told Dora about her before he’d even asked her to marry him.

  And from that time on, it had never come up.

  They’d opened their store in Bend eight years ago.

  Sully had been thirteen.

  And Duncan knew nothing about this.

  “What happened after she hung up?” he asked tightly.

  “She lost it, Dad. Totally destroyed the kitchen. Tore everything out of the fridge and threw it around. Ketchup everywhere. Tomato sauce. Salsa. Mayonnaise. Broken jars. Stuff came out of the pantry and mixed with it. Pasta. Flour. Spices. Bottles rolling around. Her slipping all over it. I stopped her before she got out the plates. But I had to do that physical. I had to lock her down. In the end, she threw back a pill and went to bed, but it took me, like, three hours to clean up that mess.”

  “Son, you should have told me.”

  The pain for his boy carved through his voice.

  And his heart.

  “Dad, what would you do? Seeing that and her coming to, you know, like she did, snapping into being with it, and then getting so worried you’d be mad and making me promise.”

  “I wouldn’t have been mad. But I would have done something about it.”

  “Well, I was too young to know then. I see it now. It was her being, you know…her. How she’d get shady. Like, she fed off being sick. She got something out of it. You know, negative attention is still attention. That kind of thing. And she didn’t want you to take it more seriously, how messed up she was. Maybe commit her or something.”

  Duncan drew a sharp breath into his nose and said nothing because they both knew all of this was true.

  “And while she was throwing shit around, she was ranting about Imogen Swan. How you were trying to find her again. How all your ‘other women’ were blonde and blue-eyed and she was the love of your life. And you were longing for her. And since she was married to some tennis guy, you’d never have her back, so you were fucking a hundred Imogen Swans to get her back—”

  “Okay, son,” Duncan cut him off, not for himself, but because this couldn’t be easy on his boy.

  “I’m not done, Dad. She showed me a picture of you two. After she calmed down. To prove to me she wasn’t crazy. She showed me a picture. And there you were, together. But she said you kept it in your wallet with you all the time. She found it there. In your wallet. She didn’t seem to get that you were in Bend, we were in Prescott, and she went to the basement to get that picture, so obviously it wasn’t with you all the time in your wallet. It was something in those old boxes of junk you said you’d get around to clearing out, and never did. And she found it and, well…it set her off. And that’s it.”

  Duncan did not know what to say and he had no idea what to do.

  Which brought back the feeling of frustration he thought he’d left behind, because he had spent a lot of the last part of his marriage not knowing what to say or do.

  “Mom follows you on Insta, Dad,” Sully warned
.

  “I don’t know how that works, son,” Duncan reminded him.

  “You can follow a tag or a hashtag. And that pic with you and Imogen Swan has been both. By the way, you guys’ hashtag is isitgonnabeimoway.”

  “What?”

  “Imoway. Imogen and Holloway mashed together. It’s what they do with famous couples.”

  Fucking hell.

  “Sully—”

  “I saw that picture, Dad. And I’m not just talking the one on Instagram.”

  Duncan remained silent.

  “I’m not saying Mom had any reason to say what she said or be how she was because of whatever you two had. I remember the good times, before she got sick. I know you loved her. You didn’t hide it. You always told us not to bury our feelings or hide them and you were about tell, but also about the show. But I saw that picture, Dad, and it wasn’t hard to see you two loved each other. I don’t know why that didn’t work, but you’re available, and so’s she, and it sucks, your old friend killed himself. But if that’s how you two have reconnected, then I hope something good comes of it. And it isn’t your problem anymore, but someone is gonna have to tell Mom. If you want that to be me, I’ll do it. But I hate to say it, it probably should be you.”

  He was right.

  And maybe Duncan wasn’t going to be able to go visit Genny tonight to find some way to explain what they’d all been up to and hope her interest in his life and bashfulness at his side meant they were going to finish talking things through, find a way to let go of the past and explore a future.

  Because he needed to deal with Dora.

  And that might take a while.

  “I’ll call your mother,” he agreed.

  Sully tried to hide looking relieved, but he didn’t manage it.

  “And I don’t know what’s happening with Genny, son,” he continued. “But I need to be clear that if something is happening, you’re okay with that.”

  “Totally,” Sully said. “Aubrey and Charlie had such a huge fight about whether or not she was robbed of an Oscar for her role in It Wasn’t Easy that they made us watch it. And Aubrey was right. She was really good in that. But I, you know, avoided her, after the whole Mom thing. But Aubrey’s a huge fan of hers and she talks about her sometimes and what she says, she seems really cool.”

  “I’m not sure what’s gonna go down, Sul, but since you mentioned this, it’s important to understand that her life is very different from ours.”

  “Yeah, like you going to El Gato for lunch and it being all over the world in matter of seconds?”

  Duncan smiled. “Yeah. Like that.”

  “Dad, you’re famous too. You’re like the Ralph Lauren of outdoor gear.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. It’s something Aubrey says. About how Ralph Lauren became the face of his company and lived the life he was trying to sell with his clothes and home stuff. She was watching a documentary. I wasn’t paying attention. I had a test to study for.”

  “Well, I understand what Aubrey means, but I can go to El Gato and not have it all over the world in a matter of seconds.”

  “I’m just saying, it’s a non-issue. If you like her and she makes you happy, who cares about anything else?”

  In all that was going down, one thing he knew felt great.

  He’d raised good boys.

  “I’ll handle your mom. Don’t worry about it. Now go do something that might not involve cramming. Call Aubrey. Take your girl out. Have some fun. Live a little.”

  “No way to get summa living a little.”

  “Sul, there’s more to achieve in life than achievements.”

  Sully grinned at him. “Epic, Dad. I was wondering what to get you for Christmas. I’m putting that on a coffee mug.”

  He shook his head but did it with his lips twitching.

  “Okay, go study. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Love you, Pops.”

  “Love you too, kid.”

  They disconnected and Duncan was interrupted in pulling his shit together so he’d have the patience to deal with Dora if she was off the wagon due to Genny being back in his life, not to mention controlling himself from going over old ground neither of them could change with what she’d asked of their son that was the opposite of okay, when he saw the Tesla take off down the drive.

  Apparently, his “larder” was not appropriately stocked.

  That made him grin, but it faded when his eyes fell on Corey’s letter again.

  He was reaching for it when his phone chimed with a text.

  He looked down at it, expecting something from Dora.

  What he saw was a number he didn’t have programed, but it had a six-oh-two area code.

  And when he opened it, his smile was wide.

  This is Imogen. You’re right. We need to talk in order to have some closure. Do you have plans this evening? Could you meet me in the bar at The Queen at around 8:30?

  No dicking around, he immediately texted back.

  Yes.

  It might not be right, but after getting that from Genny, it was what he was going to do.

  So he opened up his text string with his ex-wife and asked, Do you have time to talk tomorrow?

  He got a, See you then. from Imogen.

  He was texting a, Count on it. back when he got a reply from Dora.

  I saw. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You’ve done enough of that.

  He was staring at that in shock when another text came in from his ex.

  Be happy, Duncan. We’ll have lunch some time. If I’m not incarcerated after driving down to Tucson and holding my son at gunpoint to force him to study. Remain off Instagram. I’m deleting my account. He’s killing me. Slowly.

  It was not lost on him that when she found help that worked for her, Dora had come back. The woman he’d married and made a family with who he’d loved.

  It was too late, what they’d had and built was gone, regrettably, but irrevocably.

  But knowing she had this kind of lock on it, that she could joke and be real…

  Again, for the first time in a long time, Duncan’s breath was coming easier.

  We’ll do an intervention at Thanksgiving. He texted back.

  If he survives that long. She replied.

  He gave her a thumbs-up emoji and a smiley.

  She returned an angry face and an eye-rolling emoji.

  He was grinning when he went directly back to Genny’s text and programmed her number in.

  He was still grinning when he opened the Instagram account that he had not touched since his assistant had downloaded it on his phone.

  It took him a minute, but he finally found it by searching #isitgonnabeimoway.

  And when he found it, he could see it.

  How they were bent toward each other, faces close, focus intense, no one in that restaurant but them.

  They were having a deep, informative, but not entirely comfortable conversation.

  The picture did not say that.

  It looked like he was about to kiss her.

  Hard.

  And she wanted to swallow him whole.

  Duncan was still grinning when he got up and walked out of his office.

  Completely forgetting about Corey’s letter.

  Chapter Seven

  The Drinks

  Imogen

  I sat at the bar, knowing this was a bad idea.

  There were so many reasons it was a bad idea, it wasn’t funny.

  First, Cookie was upstairs, as delivered by Mary, who was already likely back in Phoenix, this as delivered by Rodney.

  Chloe wasn’t available to help her with getting my cat and car to me, so she did what Mary always did. Took the bull by the horns and got things done.

  So now Cookie, her litter box, her food and water bowls, the placemat I kept under them and about a month’s worth of cat food was up in my suite.

  All of that along with the contents of four additional suitcases, including the huge one
s I took when I spent time in Europe. Offerings, after I’d unpacked them, that I saw afforded me every possible wardrobe change (for an urban woman on the go, it should be noted, not a woman on a break in a causal mountain town), including accessories that did not stop at shoes and handbags.

  I could not focus on why Mary was behaving like I was moving for half a year into the deluxe suite at The Queen.

  I had a great many other things to focus on.

  I’d managed to be able to spend about a half an hour with my cat in new surroundings before I’d had to go to dinner, and I didn’t feel that was enough time.

  She needed her mommy.

  I’d been up to check when I returned from dinner, and okay, when I’d opened the door, I woke her up from napping.

  But I still sensed the unease.

  The second reason this was a bad idea was that, within seconds of sliding on my barstool, Matt had texted.

  His text had included four words.

  Who is this guy?

  And a photo.

  One of the ones taken of Duncan and I at lunch.

  I’d had no choice but to text back, An old friend of Uncle Corey’s and mine. A long story. I’ll catch you up later.

  Matt didn’t reply.

  Which was a concern, considering that photo looked like we were on a date, but one hundred percent not a first date.

  More like the seven-hundred and fifty-seventh one.

  Which, if it was a date with Duncan and me (and it wasn’t), was maybe close to the right number.

  But I thought making a big deal about it and pressing explanations on my son, when it was not a big deal at all, and would soon be easily explained away when I could get home and resume normal programming, was not a good idea.

  Thus, I let it be.

  The third reason was that I had a variety of wardrobe changes, and for some reason I could not even begin to understand, because this was not a big deal at all, I’d changed clothes to go to dinner with Trisha and Scott.

  An outfit that Chloe brought over a couple of weeks ago.

  Slightly faded dark-gray jeans. Slim black belt. Shiny, silky, blousy off-black top cut low. Stretchy black tank under it. And sexy red pumps that gave some serious toe cleavage.

  I’d had a stylist, who Chloe fired, saying, ‘The woman dresses you like you’re Betty White. You’re fifty-two, not one hundred and two.” And although this was not entirely true, including the fact Betty White was not that old (though she was close), it wasn’t entirely false either.