Vivi looked at the yellow pad in front of her and ran her finger down the to-do list. She was staying in East Hope for three more days then she’d move to Leavenworth permanently.
Her art supplies would arrive next week. Several of her new friends had recommended a reputable contractor, and she’d spent hours with him deciding the best way to use the space in the studio. Several walls would have to be moved and another large window installed to give her a big bright showroom. He’d suggested expanding another room to give her more space to work.
Her dream was coming true.
She underlined another contractor’s name. A roofer friend of Micah’s had recommended a business in the area. His estimate included minor repairs for the house and a metal roof for the studio. The plumber was scheduled to meet with her tomorrow.
As she refilled her cup, Byron entered the back door, his expression somber. She hadn’t seen him for several days, and she smiled despite his expression.
“Coffee’s fresh. Can I get you a cup.”
Byron’s shook his head and placed a paper on the table in front of her. “I got an email from my friend.”
She glanced at the paper then up at Byron. “What’s wrong?”
“My buddy at the Security and Exchange Commission has been checking into your Mr. Charters. Your investor is under investigation.”
“For what?” Mr. Charters had handled her trust for years and her grandfather’s money before that. “There must be a mistake.”
“No mistake. Do you know who Bernie Madoff is?”
Vivi nodded, fear making her muscles stiff. Sharp stings of anxiety skittered across her skin. “He’s that guy that scammed all those people out of their money.” Her stomach roiled and her heart skipped a beat. This was going to be bad. Worse than she’d thought.
“Your guy is like Bernie’s little brother. Not literally, but still.” Byron took her hands in his. “This is off the record, but Charters is under federal investigation for running a Ponzi scheme.”
Her head spun as she tried to make sense of what Byron was saying. Mr. Charters had been one of Grandy’s best friends. He wouldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t. “I can’t believe this. Somebody’s made a mistake.”
She pulled out her cell. Her hands were shaking so badly, it took three tries before she had the right number. “I’m calling him. He’ll have an explanation.” The call to his direct line went straight to voice mail. She hung up and tried the office number with the same results.
Byron’s phone pinged. He read the text, and his expression was filled with concern when he met her gaze. “They’ve arrested Charters.”
They walked back to the bungalow. The next several hours were filled with phone calls and waiting. Information came in in bit and pieces none of which told them anything.
Her world had gone from bright to a black hole in the blink of an eye, or a ping of a cell phone. She sat at Byron’s desk, her head in her hands the word idiot running in a loop through her brain. “How did I not know this? How could I not have suspected anything?” She dropped her head to the desk with a sigh. She wanted Byron to put his arms around her, to make her feel safe, but he kept his distance. His feelings couldn’t have been plainer if he’d shouted them. She was on her own here.
Byron’s phone rang, and he put it on speaker. A man’s voice came through as if he were in the room. “Byron, I have bad news. This is just preliminary so keep that in mind. But it looks like the money is gone. From what we can see, there are quite a few investors involved. Tell your friend not to count on getting much money back.”
“Thanks, Michael. Can you keep us informed?”
The men said their goodbyes, but Vivi wasn’t listening. She’d lost interest half way through the conversation. She’d never needed much money, but Byron had been right. She hadn’t realized the comfort she’d felt knowing the money was there.
Byron’s hands wrapped around her upper arms, and he pulled her to her feet. He didn’t wrap his arms around her, but his voice was soft. “There was no reason not to trust the man. He’d managed your money for years with no problem.”
She wanted to believe him, but she knew this was her fault.
“Michael recommended a lawyer, and I already sent him an email.” He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “It will work out.”
Vivi didn’t believe him, and she couldn’t be strong any more. The tears flowed until she was gasping for breath. “What am I going to do?”
“You’ve got two million dollars. That’s more than most people. We’ll figure it out.”
“I used all of that to pay for the property. I have no money to fix it up or to even pay the taxes.” She looked at him, her eyes red, her breathing hitched. “I have a few thousand dollars in the bank, but I’ll need that to live on until I find a job. I’ll have to sell before I can even move in.”
~-~
Even with tear-reddened eyes, Vivi was the most amazing woman Byron had ever met, and Byron was having a hard time keeping his self-induced detachment.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. “My granddaddy always said, ‘Don’t cry over spilt milk’. If you’re going to have to sell, let’s make a plan.”
“All I have to plan for is how to sell the property and get some of my money back.”
Byron took her hand and pulled her out the door to his pickup. “We might as well go look at it.”
“You want to drive all the way to Leavenworth to look at the property I can’t afford to keep?”
“Have you got anything better to do?” He pulled onto the highway and sped down the road. “Tell me what you’d planned for the place when money was no object.“
She turned, her expressive eyes filled with sadness. “Money is a big object now.”
“Work with me here. What did you have planned?” He kept one hand on the wheel and with the other reached over to smooth her hair. “First thing.”
She pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. “I’m supposed to meet with the plumber in the morning. I’ve already talked to a contractor about remodeling the shop by the road. I’ll have to cancel them both.”
Vivi was silent for a moment then she jerked her gaze to Byron’s. “John Walker, the rancher on the next place, called me yesterday about renting the property. I’ll have to call him back.”
The rest of the drive, Byron racked his brain for more comforting words, any comforting words, but came up with nothing. It was a relief to pull into the driveway.
As they rounded the front of the truck, Byron touched Vivi’s shoulder. “Let’s take this one step at a time. Maybe Charters has all the money in a bank account somewhere, and you’ll get it back. Miracles do happen.” His attempt at positivity was weak, but he was grasping at straws here.
“Not to me they don’t.” The tears had stopped for the moment, but he could see her struggle. “I’m going to have to sell.”
He pulled her toward the house and when they reached the porch he held out his hand. “Key?”
She dug through her purse and handed it to him. When they were inside he heard her choke back more tears, but when he turned, she’d wiped them away. She stood in the center of the room, her hands at her sides, a desolate look on her face.
“We might be able to figure out something. Maybe you won’t have to sell.” A niggling idea kept working its way into his head. “Since you paid cash for the property, you don’t have a loan payment.”
“I could get a job in town, but what about the property taxes? And the upkeep? I can’t do all the repairs by myself.” She walked over to the picture window and propped her butt on the sill. “I have to accept the facts. It’s my fault I’m in this situation. I didn’t take care of business.”
“This isn’t all your fault. The man is a crook. He screwed lots of people.” The thought of the dapper Mr. Charters cheating Vivi out of her money made Byron want to grab him by his scrawny neck and squeeze.
She looked aroun
d the room. “I love this place. I’ll be sorry to see it go.” Standing, she dusted her hands against the legs of her jeans.
Two enormous Cottonwoods on either corner of the yard were flanked by smaller pines. The trees framed a view of the closest hay field and a large pond. What a way to start each day. Sitting here with a cup of coffee, looking out at your land.
At the edge of the yard, sat the machinery. Even though they needed a little work, there was no reason to give it to the new owners. Vivi could get a bit of her money back by selling them separately.
The ride through the property and a conversation with a neighbor had confirmed his suspicions. The old man who’d owned the place had been a good cowboy. He’d raised meadow hay on the irrigated fields that came with the ranch and grazed cattle on the timbered hillsides. This was a working ranch, and it wouldn’t take much work to run cattle here in the spring. The place was big enough to make a living. A man wouldn’t get rich, but he could have a good life.
All Vivi needed was cattle—and experience—and money. He couldn’t forget the money. For the first time in his life, he wished he were rich, or even on speaking terms with his father.
He could imagine what dear old dad would say if he called wanting to borrow money. Even more horrifying to his father would be borrowing money for a ranch. The lecture would begin immediately and last until the moon outshone the sun. And he still wouldn’t loan a dime to Byron. Help from his family was out of the question.
He had about thirty head of mama cows he’d managed to buy during his years at the Circle W. One of the perks of working for Micah was being allowed to run some of his own cows. Too bad thirty head wasn’t enough to make a living.
His gaze wandered to the machinery again. Vivi could sell the hay.
“I promised myself when Father died that I’d find a way to do what I love and be happy. I should have known this was too easy. Let’s go back to the ranch and call a realtor.”
As she turned toward the door he caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. “I didn’t know you were a quitter.”
She stiffened and tried to push away but he held her tight. “You might have to sell in the end, but at least we can try to find a way to make this work.” A branch scratched against the side of the house, and the wind whistled through the chimney as the sky darkened. The predicted storm had arrived.
Vivi leaned back and stared up at him. “Look, I appreciate all you’ve done to help me. I really do, but I can’t see a way out of this. I’m not quitting. I’m being practical.”
“Practicality is overrated. We need imagination and inspiration, creativity with a touch of whimsy. We need a daydreamer, and you do that as well as anyone I’ve ever met.” He stroked his finger across her forehead, brushing back a strand of hair.
“Daydreaming has gotten me exactly nothing.”
“There you go giving up again. I don’t know about you, but I’m not going down without a fight.” He backed her against the wall, placing a hand on either side of her head then brushed his lips against hers. “We can make this work.”
“We?” A tremor wobbled through the single word. Her eyes were wide as she stared into his.
“I know. I’m as surprised as you are.” And he was. All this time he’d been guarding his heart, keeping himself apart, when all he needed was this brave, kind, happy woman. “I think I love you.”
This time the corners of her mouth quivered. “You think?”
“Once in a while I do.” He touched a fingertip to the corner of her mouth, and the grin got wider. “This is new to me so cut me some slack.”
She tilted her head and threaded her fingers through his. Her smile widened.
“For a woman who talks all the time, you sure aren’t saying much.”
“Well, if it makes it any easier on you, I love you too. I have since the first time you gave me a riding lesson, and I watched you with that stubborn colt. I knew you were the man for me.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I still don’t see how we can keep this place.”
“We probably can’t, but we can give it a try.” Damn, he should have thought this through. The first time in years that he did something spontaneous—.
“Look, we can sell this property and move back to East Hope. I like it there.”
She’d given him a way out. She was willing to give up everything she’d worked for to make him happy.
Her excitement had dropped away, and her expression was serious. “We’ll figure out something.”
For a moment there, he’d dared to hope. There was no way he could make her happy. No matter what she said, she’d been raised with money. She had no idea how hard it was to make it in ranching without a big checkbook or family. The struggle would wear her down and the light in her eyes that he loved would fade.
He changed the subject. “On second thought, I think you should move in here like you’d planned. Even if you have to sell, it will be more appealing to buyers if someone lives here.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wow! One moment they’d seemed to be a team, working to figure out a problem, the next, he was moving her out on her own and crawling back into his hole at the Circle W.
Vivi carried the foam pad into the house along with her one set of sheets. A full bed lay in pieces in the back of the truck she’d borrowed from Micah along with a small dresser from the Salvation Army.
Cary had found a dining table and two chairs in to top of the barn, and Micah had delivered them. If Vivi hadn’t been so confused, she’d have been delighted with the circa 1950’s chrome and red Formica set. With cast offs from Cary and Pansy, she had enough kitchen utensils to get by. She wouldn’t be here very long anyway.
Byron was right about one thing. The property would sell faster if she was here.
She busied herself setting the kitchen to order. And when the few pieces of silverware, dishes and pots and pans were in their place, she stood back and took in the room. From the log walls to the beams on the ceiling, this was the home of her dreams.
Her father had been right all along. He’d tried to warn her. She’d been born with a brain wired for one thing, he’d said. When God gave you a natural ability to decipher physics, it was a crime to do otherwise.
She’d been searching for personal and professional happiness and someone to love her. Looks like she’s have to settle for professional happiness alone.
Trying to be positive in these circumstances was exhausting, but the alternative was unthinkable. Sebastian’s life had been cut short before he even got to live. She wasn’t wasting hers. She’d enjoy the house for as long as she had it, be it days or months. And she’d hold tight to her memories of her time with Byron.
For a few days, she’d held her breath every time her phone rang. Each time it wasn’t him, she’d been disappointed. He’d declared his love for her then let fear and doubt stop him from finding happiness. She couldn’t live like that anymore.
She backed the pickup up to the porch then wedged out the headboard and carried it into the house. Without too many mistakes, she had the frame put together. The bed frame looked lost in the big master bedroom.
Reaching into the truck bed, she tried to pull the mattress out, but she couldn’t get any leverage. She climbed in and braced her back against the front of the bed and pushed with her feet. The mattress and box springs inched toward the open tailgate. One more push and they tilted out until one edge rested on the porch.
She stood back and looked. They’d be filthy if she dragged them across the porch, but if she were going to sleep here tonight, she’d have to figure out how to get them to the bedroom.
The sound of tires crunching on gravel caught her attention. Byron’s truck pulled up beside hers, a recliner in the back. “Need some help?” He jumped to the ground, not making eye contact.
No way was she getting her hopes up again. He was a nice guy, and one day when she stopped loving him, he’d be a good friend, but just now, with her life falling apart, she didn’t n
eed him reminding her of all she’d lost.
She wondered if in some obscure language, her middle name translated to stubborn. “No, I have it thanks.” She turned back to the mattress and lifted it until it stood on edge. Maybe if she balanced it on her back...
As she bent to lift, the weight was suddenly gone. Byron had picked it up as if it weighed nothing. After years of grain sacks and hay bales, that’s what it probably felt like to him.
“Hey, I had that.” Indignation was way better than hopelessness, and she was learning to do outrage well. “I’m not weak.”
He just smiled. “Open the screen door, please.”
What would have taken her an hour, took him just minutes. He turned to her, fighting a grin. “I’ll need some help with the box springs.” As he walked from the room, couldn’t keep her gaze from dropping to the sight of his butt in the tight Wranglers.
He turned in the doorway and caught her gawking. “See anything you like?”
Hot red embarrassment covered her cheeks and neck. She was not going to play his game. She couldn’t even figure out what his game was, and she was tired. “No,” she said, suddenly so weary she wasn’t sure she could stay on her feet.
Byron came back to her. “Hey, I was kidding.”
“Really, because I’m not sure if you know what you’re doing.” She walked past him to the kitchen, grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator and sank onto one of the kitchen chairs. “I only know I don’t want to play anymore. I’m having enough trouble keeping myself going. I can’t do that for you, too.”
Byron stared at her for a moment then walked out the front door. He managed to get the box springs to the bedroom by himself and set up the bed. By the time she’d finished the soda, he had the bed made and was back out at his truck.
The aroma of pizza hit her like a runaway truck. She had skipped breakfast and hadn’t thought of lunch. Her phone said it was four o’clock.
Cowboy's Sweetheart (Sugar Coated Cowboys Book 3) Page 12
