by Laura Moore
Erica passed her stepsister the stapled papers. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Carrie tucked a lock of reddish gold hair behind her ear. “Okay, Phil. Confession time part two. I didn’t really look at the list Mom sent and honestly I don’t know who falls into the MIP versus VIP category. If it helps, Brian and my friends are solid MIPs—but easy-going ones. They’ll be happy wherever they are. Mom and Benjamin’s friends, not so much.”
“Not to worry, Phil. I’ve got a pretty good idea of who is where in the pecking order,” Erica said.
“Oh, good.”
Tess understood Phil’s relief. There were few headaches worse than dealing with the fallout of guests who created a holy stink because their “consequence” had been overlooked and they’d been booked in a room that failed to reflect their elevated status. It was like a maître d’ sticking a megawatt movie star or a billionaire hedge fund manager at a table next to the bathroom. A big oops.
Phil prided himself on the attention that was paid and the little extras that were provided to the VIPs who came to stay at the ranch. But Googling every guest on the list would have taken time he really couldn’t spare now that the high season was just around the corner.
Carrie looked like she’d just passed a really difficult exam. “Okay, then, I’ll read the names out loud and Erica can tell you whether they’re used to penthouse suites and champagne.” She scanned the first page, then flipped to the second. “Gosh, there are a lot of names—”
Tess could hear the note of panic in Carrie’s voice. Everything had gone so well this weekend; Tess wanted this last planning session to be equally easy so that Carrie could go back to Boston and focus on those covariance matrix things, free of any wedding-detail worries.
“Let’s begin with those who’ve accepted,” she suggested.
“Oh, right. Well, there’s us. I guess Bri and I get to be VIPs—isn’t that nice—and well, all our sets of parents.”
Brian spoke up. “I think to keep the peace we should put my parents in separate hotels. The less contact the better.”
Phil made a notation on his iPad.
“That should go for my Dad, too,” Carrie said. “I think Mom and Benjamin would be less stressed if Dad and Sarah, his girlfriend, were staying elsewhere.”
“Sarah …” Phil’s fingers hovered over the screen.
“Richards,” Tess supplied, remembering the name from her notes.
Across the table Ward smiled at her. How could she not smile back? It went a little way toward easing the pain that Erica’s announcement had caused. Of course, Erica, ever watchful, noticed the exchange.
They went through the list of family members, deciding that Brian’s sister, Allie, and Paul and their two young daughters, Hannah and Grace, should be put in one of the two-bedroom cabins at Silver Creek. Tess would arrange for babysitting for when the girls tired of the festivities. With Allie and Paul’s accommodations arranged, Carrie continued down the list of people who’d been prompt in accepting, with Erica conferring VIP status on a few of the guests invited by Christine Greer Marsh and her husband, Benjamin Marsh.
It was done with such exactitude that Tess wondered if Erica spent her free time memorizing the Social Register as well as every Forbes list ever compiled. The data stored in her head was impressive—and a touch scary as well. Phil, however, was entranced. His fingers flew over the screen to keep up with the annotated bios she supplied.
Carrie’s mother and stepfather seemed to know a lot of important people. Other than the fact that they lived in Greenwich, Connecticut, Tess wouldn’t have necessarily guessed that about them. Carrie was so modest.
It made Erica’s attitude and her subtle digs more understandable—if not excusable or defensible. Tess now saw why Erica acted as if she were just a little more special than anyone else.
Once they’d sorted out the column of guests who had accepted into ultra-important and somewhat-less-important categories, Carrie began reading off those who’d yet to RSVP.
Phil, recognizing he had an info gold mine in Erica, wanted to know how they ranked, too, so that he could place them in the appropriate cabins or rooms in the Ukiah hotel and B&B as their replies came in.
They’d gone through a half dozen names when Liz arrived, armed with two yellow-and-white-checked linen-covered baskets. Tess sniffed the air, catching the scent of warm popovers, and suddenly she was famished. She let her attention drift as Liz set the baskets on the table and then placed medium-sized ramekins next to them.
“Okay, I say we hit the pause button for a second and enjoy at least one popover before we continue,” Ward said.
Brian was already reaching for the basket, flipping the napkin over so that the delicious steam escaped. “Amen to that,” he said offering a popover to Tess and Carrie.
Even Phil consented. Setting aside his iPad, he passed the popovers to Erica and Ward and then helped himself.
Roo’s popovers were so good, they were inhaled. First helpings were followed by seconds in a stunningly short period of time. The large baskets empty, the tubs of flavored butter depleted, the dinners exchanged guilty glances.
“I don’t know how you live with food like this on a daily basis,” Carrie said to Tess. “It’s too good.”
“Jeff makes a salad that’s almost as delicious,” she said. “And I don’t eat breakfast here.”
“The bread Roo sends over for our morning toast is ridiculously healthy,” Ward said.
Erica scowled, not liking the “our” in Ward’s sentence. Tess understood he was making it clear to everyone—Erica above all—that he and Tess shared breakfast.
Tess’s eyes locked with Ward’s. In them she saw warm approval swiftly turn to something hotter, and she knew he was thinking of what their breakfasts led to when Ward wasn’t on early morning barn duty.
They might have continued staring at each other had one of the guests not stopped by their table to say goodbye to Ward and thank him for the wonderful trail rides. The rides had made the man, who looked to be in his early fifties, determined to take up riding again.
Ward stood to shake the man’s hand and said that he hoped he’d soon be returning to Silver Creek. There were miles of trails still to explore.
Listening to them, Tess felt her smile grow. She loved how Ward conducted himself around the guests. It was a side of him she’d begun to see fully only after she’d started spending time down at the horse barn and corral, where he mingled with the guests who’d signed up to ride. He was always cordial and willing to answer their questions about the ranch. His open love for the property, its horses, and the livestock was evident in his every word. The guests responded to his obvious attachment and enthusiasm, quickly adopting his attitude as their own.
While Ward and the man discussed places to ride near Santa Monica, where the man lived, Erica turned to her stepsister. “Shall we continue with the guest list, Carrie?”
“Better go ahead before the rest of breakfast arrives, babe,” Brian said.
“Okay.” Carrie wiped her fingers on her napkin and picked up the list. “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. The Bradfords, Edward and Hope. Wait, I know them.” She paused, frowning in recollection. “Wasn’t Edward Bradford Benjamin’s boss or something?”
Tess froze in her seat. The Bradfords? No, it couldn’t be—
“Yes,” Erica said. For a horrible moment Tess thought Erica had read Tess’s panicked thoughts. But then she continued. “Dad was VP of one of his companies when we lived in Boston. He left the company when he met Christine and decided to move to Greenwich to be near her. But he and Mr. Bradford have remained friends. I’m sure the Bradfords will attend if their schedule permits. Though now that I think about it, maybe they won’t. Their only son died recently so perhaps they won’t want to endure the socializing a wedding requires. Remember when Dad and Christine went to that funeral in Boston last December, Carrie? It was for the Bradfords’ son.”
“That’s right. I remember we ha
d dinner with Benjamin and Mom afterward. Benjamin felt terrible for the Bradfords. They were shattered. So VIP category for them, Phil.”
Oh God. Just when she’d hoped the past was behind her, it reared its ugly head. The news that the Bradfords were friends of Carrie’s family came as a violent shock … yet it shouldn’t. Some worlds had less than six degrees of separation. More like three. New England’s wealthy elite was one of them.
Connections were one thing—and Carrie’s mother and stepfather were obviously well connected. What rocked her was the idea that they had been asked to attend David’s burial when she, his wife, had been barred from paying her last respects, from saying a last goodbye.
Hurt and humiliation flooded her once more. Choking her.
Carrie looked up. “Are you okay, Tess?”
“Of course. I swallowed my coffee too quickly. It burned.” She tried a smile, fighting the dizziness that had assailed her at the mention of the Bradfords. She reached for her ice water and took a deep gulp. “There. All better now,” she said, patting her trembling lips with a napkin.
Across the table she met Erica’s inquisitive gaze.
Somehow she got through the rest of the breakfast. It was easier once Ward sat down again, for Erica shifted the focus of her attention to him. Tess hadn’t liked how carefully Erica had studied her, with a kind of microscopic intensity, following the mention of the Bradfords. Tess wondered how much of her inner turmoil she’d inadvertently revealed. Fortunately Ward appeared to notice nothing amiss, engaged as he’d been talking to the guest.
The conversation flowed around her, Brian reminiscing about his high school and college summer jobs at Silver Creek, lifeguarding at the pool, weeding the vegetable gardens, and bussing in the kitchen. His stories were funny; Brian told a good tale. Tess managed to smile at the appropriate moments as she moved her omelet around her plate.
Carrie happened to glance at her watch. “Oh my God, Brian, we’ve got to get going or we’ll miss our flight. I still have a couple more things to throw in my suitcase.”
They all rose from the table. “The weekend’s gone way too fast,” Brian said.
“Yes, it has. Good thing you’ll be back before long,” Ward said.
Brian smiled. “Damn straight. Thanks, Phil, for dealing with our guest list. Maybe we’ll get lucky and all those who have yet to reply will decline.”
Tess hoped Brian’s wish came true. Even the possibility of facing the Bradfords again made her sick.
Brian and Carrie hurried out. Erica turned to Ward. When she smiled like that, she was stunningly beautiful, Tess thought.
“Luckily I’m all packed,” Erica said. “But my suitcase is rather heavy and doesn’t have wheels. Would you mind helping me with it? The staff must be very busy.”
She was stunningly beautiful and extremely clever, Tess added silently. Erica of course knew Ward would be unwilling to further burden his employees during peak check-out time.
Ward gave Erica a long look, then shrugged. “Sure.” To Tess he said, “I’ll meet you in a few minutes at Brian’s car, okay?”
She nodded, secretly relieved to have a few minutes alone. If she didn’t compose herself, Ward might guess that something was wrong. And where would she start if he asked? The list was growing longer by the minute, starting with his ex-fiancée’s declaration that she intended to win back his heart, and ending with the awful prospect of her former in-laws appearing at the wedding where, if they were to catch sight of her, they would doubtless spit in her eye. The middle of her list was just as distressing. It consisted of all the ways she’d fallen in love with Ward and all the reasons she wasn’t yet ready to voice to him what was in her heart.
Even though Carrie had said that she still had a few belongings to stow in her bag, she and Brian met Tess by the rental car first. Carrie was growing nervous at the prospect of missing their flight. She’d told Tess she taught a large lecture class on Monday mornings. Once again she checked her watch. “Should I call Erica?”
Brian wrapped his arm about her shoulder and squeezed it. “No. Believe me, Ward’s not going to let her make us late.” He pressed a quick kiss against her brow. To Tess he gave a lopsided grin. “Actually I’m glad we got you alone. I wanted to say sorry for the remark I made earlier. For a while I was concerned that Ward was having trouble moving on after the break-up. Now it seems as if it’s Erica. But you don’t have anything to worry about, Tess—”
“Oh! Here they are,” Carrie exclaimed happily.
Tess turned to see Ward and Erica walking up the path together. They made a striking couple, his compelling dark looks a perfect foil for her blond beauty.
“Hey, guys,” Brian called out as they neared. “We were about to send out an APB for the two of you.”
Erica glanced up at his words and perhaps because she wasn’t watching the path, or perhaps because this was just another part of her grand plan, she stumbled sideways into Ward, who reached out to steady her with his free hand. “Careful, Erica,” Tess heard him say.
“Thanks. You’re always there for me, aren’t you?” There was only one word to describe the smile Erica gave Ward: dazzling.
Ward must have reacted by moving. Or maybe Erica just choreographed it all impeccably. Which one it was didn’t really matter. What did matter was that she teetered again on her heels and lost her balance. Pitching forward, she landed against Ward in a graceful arc, and somehow her hands found their way around his neck. Her lips found him too. She kissed him, open-mouthed and for far too long … So long that her kiss became their kiss.
“Listen, Tess, you can’t still be mad about that damned kiss.”
“I hadn’t realized there was a time limit.” Her voice was tight.
“Yeah.” He gave her a crooked smile. “It elapsed about forty minutes ago.”
She didn’t return his smile. She couldn’t. The image of Ward and Erica kissing still sickened her. It had unlocked all the jealousy and misery she’d felt when David taunted her with the other women he picked up for sex. She remembered how she’d cried and wailed and stormed with him not to hurt her like this. She’d even begged.
They were in Ward’s laundry room, the oddest place for a fight, especially as it was a nice laundry room, clean and bright, with lots of countertops. Determined to ignore Ward, she’d made good use of the space over the afternoon. She now had piles of laundry neatly stacked and she was still adding to them.
Doggedly she smoothed the shirt she’d pulled out of the dryer and folded it, running her hands along the warm cotton edges, pressing down with her weight so that he wouldn’t see how they trembled.
She thanked God for the laundry. It gave her something to do, something to focus on rather than rewinding the image of Erica pressed tight against Ward, kissing him for far too long, so that when it finally ended Brian had whispered an appalled, “Oh, shit.”
Personally, Tess thought that didn’t even begin to do justice to the situation.
She pulled out another shirt from the dryer and began folding it with machinelike precision.
Standing next to her, Ward sighed and shifted, propping his hip against the washing machine, which was churning and sloshing with another load. He’d left her for an hour or so to check on Ziggy and the wounded steer, doubtless hoping that when he returned she’d have calmed down. In a sense, she had, but it was less a calming down than a shutting down, her way of blocking out the hurt.
“I’m sorry you’re upset, Tess. There’s no cause.”
She spared him a quick glance before returning to her task. “Of course not. Why should I be upset if your ex-fiancée not only announces publicly that she wants you back, but then proceeds to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation? Talk about trying to revive love. Were you even going to mention that last night she wasn’t only interested in talking about your exceptional wonderfulness? That she’d also decided to tell you how much she longed to walk down the aisle with you? Interesting that you skipped over that part of the
evening’s discussion.” Abruptly she stopped and clamped her mouth shut. No, she wouldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this.
“Tess, I hate that we’re fighting over Erica. I’m sorry she kissed me. But it’s not fair to act as if I’m complicit in any of this.”
She maintained a stony silence.
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Tess, it takes two to tango. I am not getting back together with Erica. Do you remember those women I told you about—the ones who were more attracted to what Silver Creek represented in dollar signs than they were to whatever qualities I might possess? Well, Erica was one of those women.”
“What do you mean? You said she broke off the engagement.”
“Yeah, she did call it off.” Bitterness tinged his voice. “But only after I made it clear that I wouldn’t go through with her nifty idea to sell off our livestock so we could turn the pastures into world-class golf courses and go looking for fat-cat investors to make Silver Creek into a resort like any other in America. The pot of gold she envisioned from these decisions would go toward some nice properties she wanted to live in—in San Francisco, New York, God knows where else. Once she realized I would never try and convince my family to change the ranch so she could lead the pampered life she’d envisioned, she decided I wasn’t worth marrying. Once I realized what really fueled her desire to be Mrs. Ward Knowles, I was only too glad to let her go.”
“Maybe she’s seen the errors of her ways—”
“I’m fairly sure she has, especially now that it seems she and her rich Silicon Valley boyfriend have split. I actually think you’re partly to blame in this business too.”
“Me? What are you talking about?”
He grinned because her question had come out as a shocked squeak. “You’re doing such a great job promoting the ranch and raising its profile, she’s probably figured out that it’s not necessary to sell off the cattle and sheep to make this place turn a profit. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s calculated exactly how many well-organized events like Brian and Carrie’s wedding and the cowgirls’ weekend it would take to increase the ranch’s revenue. Of course, Erica’s also probably still laboring under the delusion that somehow that money would ultimately be used so she and I could jet about like celebrity wannabes—which is why I’ve made it crystal clear that I’m not interested in getting back together with her. I want to be with somebody who wants me—and my deeply flawed character.”
