High Country Homecoming

by Roxanne Rustand

  “What do you think, Daisy—do I owe Chloe an apology?”

  “I’m not sure why, but if you need to ask, then I’d say definitely yes.”

  Startled, he spun around and found Abby grinning at him from the bathroom doorway. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “Sorry. I did, but then figured you couldn’t hear me. Your grandma wanted me to drop off some of her chocolate chip cookies on my way to meet the girls at the bus stop.” Her brow furrowed as she brought her hands up and awkwardly signed How’s it going?

  He felt a flush work up his neck. “You don’t need to do that.”

  She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “Chloe has been helping me, and it doesn’t hurt to learn. I certainly want to be able to talk to my future brother-in-law, whatever the future brings.”

  So Chloe had been telling everyone about his disabilities? They might eventually figure it out on their own, but admitting to it still felt too personal, like revealing a weakness that he didn’t want to share.

  He pointedly turned away and began wiping off another section of glue.

  “Denial won’t get you anywhere, Dev. You might as well let her help you before she leaves. I actually think it’s a pretty cool skill. And in case you didn’t know, your hearing loss isn’t a secret you can keep,” she added gently. “Anyone who speaks to you for a while will probably figure it out.”

  He froze. “She’s leaving?”

  “She says no, but when I saw her yesterday she had a pile of boxes on the living room floor. And that looked mighty suspicious to me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chloe stretched her arms above her head, then slumped back in her chair.

  She’d been working for hours today on the first draft of her young-adult novel, and since coming to Montana she had reached page forty. But now it seemed as if she was deleting five words out of every ten she wrote, and even then she wasn’t satisfied. Why weren’t the words coming easier?

  It wasn’t hard to guess.

  Since going to town with Devlin on Monday, she’d been edgy and uncertain about what to tell him...or not. But what was the point, really?

  It wasn’t like she and Devlin were an “item.” And it wasn’t like she was hiding a terrible truth.

  But just the thought of revealing her naiveté and downright stupidity was embarrassing to say the least. And those awful headlines...

  If Devlin happened to google her name, find them and start asking questions, she would certainly speak up. If not, maybe she could just let sleeping dogs lie, and slip quietly off to Kansas City with her pride intact.

  “Hey, Chloe—got a minute?”

  Surprised at the sound of his voice outside her door, she looked down at her ratty gray sweatshirt and worn jeans, and tried to remember if she’d even brushed her hair this morning. Probably not.

  “Just a minute,” she called out. On her way to the door, she took the long way to glance in the bathroom mirror. “This is pathetic even for you,” she muttered to herself.

  She made a quick change into a decent sweater, pulled her hair back into a low, sleek knot at her nape and went to the door.

  He stood on the outside step, holding a plastic bag filled with homemade cookies. “Grandma sent way too many. I thought I should share.”

  Just seeing him always sent a little shiver of awareness through her, though now her first impulse was to accept them, say thanks and politely say goodbye. He’d been suspicious about her reaction to that white car in town, and he’d asked if she was in trouble. What if he asked more questions? She didn’t want to lie. She wasn’t even good at it. But the less she had to talk about the past, the better. And maybe the less time she spent with him, the better it would be, as well.

  She’d once thought her childhood infatuation with him was just that—a silly figment of her imagination, a preteen’s first, innocent crush. But apparently it had never gone away. And since coming back to the ranch, it had only grown stronger.

  She knew he had to be self-conscious about his scars, but they no longer even registered when she saw him. He was still the tall, dark and lethally handsome guy he’d always been, and with every day she stayed at the ranch she felt even more attracted to him, and even more vulnerable when he was around.

  He was looking at her expectantly, and she belatedly realized that she hadn’t answered; she’d just been staring. “Um...thanks. Would you like to come in?”

  He glanced down at his worn clothes and gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Maybe for just a minute. I’ve been working on my cabin and there’s a lot more to do.”

  “So, what have you been up to? Wait—let me guess.” She looked up at a little flutter of paper on his shirt, then moved a little closer. “Wallpaper? With...fish?”

  “Salmon. Great big salmon. With an occasional bear in the mix.”

  She shook her head, laughing as she took the cookies and set the bag on the kitchen counter. “I’ve got a herd of enormous elk in this bathroom—probably dating back to the sixties. Someone must have gotten a great deal on wallpaper that was destined to never sell.”

  “My dad would’ve been impressed with the price, if nothing else. From what I can see in my cabin, he didn’t spend a nickel on keeping anything up.” He glanced at the interior of her cabin, with his gaze lingering on the living area. “I understand this cabin was Jess’s doing. Before the last ranch hand was hired, he did do some updates.”

  He was just so easy to talk to that she didn’t want him to leave. “Coffee?”

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “I suppose I should be going. Is everything going all right?”

  “I asked Betty for a list of some names of her older friends, and she gave me twenty phone numbers, so I’ve been calling to see if any of them remember Leonard Farley. I talked to some and had to leave quite a few messages for the others, but so far I’ve been able to cross off fifteen names. No one remembers Leonard, much less whether or not he owned a dog.”

  “It’s almost like the man never existed.” Devlin frowned. “I can ask Lance next Monday night, when we meet for pizza at Red’s. Maybe he can look up the investigation into the discovery of the body. If there’s any mention of Daisy, we won’t need to worry about someone trying to claim the dog.”

  “Good.” She managed a stiff smile. “Thanks for stopping.”

  She ushered Devlin outside, then closed the door and leaned against it. Pizza, with an old pal from his wild teens.

  Right.

  She’d forgotten about Red’s until she passed it on Main Street a few days ago, and then she’d remembered it all too well. The weathered exterior, forever in need of a coat of paint. The neon beer signs in every window. The faded sign reading Burgers and Pizza on the front door. And the fact that her dad had hung out there way too often.

  Lance had been the wildest of Devlin’s high school bunch, never absent when a group of Devlin’s buddies showed up to party out in the woods. She’d seen him stagger to someone’s car and barely get into it before collapsing across the seat. Devlin had been no better. And now they were hanging out together again like old pals.

  Chloe tensed as more old memories flooded through her thoughts.

  It had always been innocent, necessary little trips to town with her dad. Quick “cups of coffee” with an old pal. An errand. But though he could saunter back to their cabin as if he hadn’t touched a drop, he’d invariably returned with bloodshot eyes and liquor on his breath. And then the fights had started—with Mom livid, and Dad angry and self-righteous. And Chloe would end up hiding amongst the dust bunnies under her bed, praying her parents would forget she was there. Even the smell of alcohol was still enough to make her ill.

  She’d tried to block all of those memories and instead remember an idyllic childhood in Montana, with caring parents who had always put her first.

  But maybe it was goo
d that she’d just been jerked out of her fantasy.

  Devlin was a handsome charmer, sure enough, and she already knew it would be way too easy to fall for him. Maybe she already had.

  But he and his buddy were probably still the same. And if so, then letting herself care too much for someone like her dad would be a terrible mistake.

  * * *

  Chloe had always been the sweetest little thing. So earnest, so helpful. Always wanting to defend anyone she loved from every possible foe.

  That young version of Chloe had grown up into a complicated woman he just couldn’t figure out.

  She’d been hesitant and even a little rattled when he’d come to her door, though he couldn’t imagine why—unless it had something to do with her odd, wary behavior in town. He’d begun to wonder if someone might be stalking her, when she’d turned so deathly pale at the sight of that car.

  Yet when she finally welcomed him into her cabin a few minutes ago, she’d been friendly and they’d even laughed over the wild wallpaper in their cabins. But then, like turning a faucet from warm to cold, she’d practically booted him out the door.

  He’d had a chance to glance around her cabin, though—his main reason for stopping by—and he’d seen no evidence of moving boxes anywhere, so maybe she’d told Abby the truth about planning to flatten all of those boxes for compact storage. At least that was reassuring.

  The alternative—the possibility of her abruptly disappearing in the dead of night—sounded erratic and even dangerous. If she was uneasy about something, wouldn’t she be safest here among people who knew her and on an isolated ranch where no stranger could appear unnoticed?

  Tomorrow he was going back to her cabin and they were going to have a good long talk.

  Back at his cabin, he let Daisy out for a short walk, then brought her inside and started back on the petrified swirls of wallpaper paste that coated the bathroom walls.

  A message alert chimed on his cell phone.

  It was Jess. Someone had called the ranch number wanting to speak to him, and they’d left a number with an unfamiliar area code that might have been in the New York City area, though he wasn’t sure. Strange. Someone selling insurance or pushing investment opportunities?

  He ignored it and went back to work. But when Jess texted again and said the guy had called once more, Devlin relented and prepared to tell him to get lost.

  The guy answered on the first ring. “So, tell me, cowboy—were you in on the scheme from the beginning?”

  At the guy’s nasal twang and insinuating tone, Devlin pulled the phone from his ear and hit the end key. Scheme? What kind of sales call would start like that?

  The caller instantly called back. “I’ve got your number now, so you might as well talk to me. I can keep hitting Redial all day long.”

  Devlin gritted his teeth and reached for the power button to turn the phone off, but the man kept talking.

  “How long have you known Chloe? Did you know about her being complicit in that big financial-services scandal in Minneapolis? Were you up in the Twin Cities during the trial? Did you know she faced serious jail time until her boyfriend let her skate away, free as a—”

  Devlin drew in a harsh breath. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Then maybe you should listen—though you might not like what you hear.”

  The guy sounded as smarmy as they came: sly and crafty, with a wheedling edge to his voice that made Devlin’s skin crawl. But he couldn’t bring himself to disconnect the call and turn off his phone just yet. Was this why Chloe seemed so nervous in town when she saw the Minnesota license plate? What on earth was she mixed up in?

  “How did you get my number?”

  “Easily, cowboy. I just saw you and her in town, and asked around. Everyone around here seems to know the Langfords. And hey, with GPS I even know where you all live. I want some time with that girlfriend of yours. I need her side of the story by tomorrow night, or I can just make something up. Your call.”

  “So you’re a reporter, then.”

  “You might say. I don’t always worry about the facts as much as some. What sells the most copy is the stuff I write. Flamboyant stuff, you know—like pretty young things who get involved with rich guys, looking for a cozy life, then try to take the poor guy for a ride. Like your Chloe, for instance.”

  If even a fraction of this were true, what did that mean for her? Had she gone on the run? Was she wanted by the police? Devlin reached for a pen and the back of an envelope and started jotting notes. “I have to say that it sounds like you’ve done your homework. Who did you say you write for?”

  The guy named a cheesy tabloid Devlin had seen in several states, then rattled off a series of accusations that made his blood run cold.

  “I’ll tell you what.” Devlin lowered his voice to a growl. “You might not ever hear from her, but now I’ve got your number, too. And if you bother her again, I can promise that you’ll definitely be hearing from me.”

  * * *

  Chloe had just dropped a bag of trash into the receptacle outside when she saw Devlin striding down the trail. From the grim set of his jaw, she guessed he’d either had bad news or he was delivering it. When he stopped in front of her, his eyes blazing, she knew which it was. She hadn’t been mistaken about the car, the license plate or what was to come, and the thought of it made her sick.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Fine,” she said heavily. “Come on in.”

  She led him inside and started a pot of coffee, then settled at the round oak kitchen table.

  He sat down across from her and studied her so intently for a moment that she wondered if he could read her deepest thoughts. “Just out of curiosity, why are you moving all the way to Kansas City for a job you don’t seem to want?”

  She drew in a long breath. “Money. Time...and security, I suppose.”

  “I don’t suppose you can elaborate.”

  “I had just enough cash to cover my stay here—three months to follow my dreams, before taking a job with my sister’s company. It will pay very well and help me clear my debts. While staying with her and her husband, I’ll feel more secure. And it will give me time to get back on my feet. Hopefully without drawing unwanted attention.”

  He sat still, quietly waiting for her to continue.

  “I suppose you’re here because you’ve met Wylie. I have to apologize for that. I never thought he’d follow me here, but I guess his name really does fit.”

  He locked his gaze on hers. “I’m guessing that less than 10 percent of what he says is true. Do you want to tell me your side of this?”

  “Will it even matter?”

  “Try me.”

  “People tend to believe what’s on the TV news and in the newspapers, and I’d guess my name is pretty much destroyed by now—at least in the Minneapolis area. In fact I know it is. Even with my credentials, I wasn’t able to find a new job after I was released.” She gave Devlin a weary look. For all his pretense of fairness, she knew he’d probably already made up his mind about her. She could see it in his eyes. “But the reporters like Wylie can smell blood a mile away, and he’s been harassing me ever since. He likes the angle of a pretty young charlatan taking advantage of a rich, married, middle-aged man, I guess. I wanted to leave town and get as far away as I could, and this ranch seemed perfect. The cabin rent was inexpensive, and I thought he might give up looking for me. Then I could go on to Kansas City. The last thing I want is for Wylie to stir up bad publicity for my sister’s company because of me.”

  “So, what happened to get you arrested?”

  “I worked for a privately owned investment-management company while putting myself through my undergrad and graduate-school degrees. Thad was my boss. He gave me good raises, praised my work. He flirted a lot and after a while, we started dating. It seemed perfect at first. He took me to fine
restaurants, the theater, romantic walks out at the Arboretum, sailing on the St. Croix river. He promised me the moon—saying we were going to have a wonderful life together, and I was gullible enough to believe him.”

  “I’m guessing this didn’t end well.”

  Embarrassed, she shook her head. “All the while, he was embezzling heavily from the company and laying a complicated trail of evidence that led directly to me. He ended up siphoning off over $800,000. I had no idea until his whole scheme came crashing down. The owner became suspicious and hired a team of forensic accountants who came in at night, and then one day I got arrested. Thad totally threw me under the bus. He blathered on about how I had been scheming to use him as a cover for my crimes by claiming to love him—how I’d tried to manipulate him into leaving a wife I didn’t even know he had. It just got worse and worse as he fed lurid details to the reporters, who hung on his every word. I was headline news for a while—even in the major newspapers.”

  “But you’re free now.”

  “Thanks to my lawyers. I was finally exonerated, but now I’m nearly broke. I took out every loan I could get and maxed out my credit cards, and I still owe them money. But I’ll pay off every dime if it’s the last thing I do. Without them I’d be behind bars for something I didn’t do.” She gave a bitter sigh. “I still can’t believe I was so utterly naïve. Why did I fall for someone like that? Why didn’t I realize I was being used? After all that drama, I’m pretty sure I’ll never trust another man again.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Monday evening Chloe finished up her third batch of Grandma Lydia’s Swedish meatballs of the day, ladled it into a stainless steel bowl and put it in the refrigerator. Tomorrow she would lug all three batches down to the house at suppertime and ask everyone to do a taste test, comparing them all.

  The second batch was likely the winner, she guessed, but she wanted to be sure before adding the final version to her cookbook.