by R. S. Kovach
She took a deep breath and exhaled. That was an easy one. “Hell yes. Totally worth it.”
Pete gave a silent fist pump in exuberant solidarity. “So what now?” His expression turned more serious.
Ali sighed. “One day at a time, I suppose.”
“Is he going to be hard to leave behind?”
She pouted. “Maybe.”
“Then you better make the most of it until then.” He put an arm around her shoulders.
“You think?” She pulled back in surprise.
He cocked his head to the side and frowned. “What do you mean?”
Ali looked away and stared into the dormant fireplace. “Do you think it’s smart to possibly get in deeper and risk it hurting more in two weeks? Or should I just step back now?”
He smiled. “Ah, I see. What’s that saying? ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’?”
She raised a brow. “You know Tennyson wrote that after his best friend died, right? It’s not quite the same as my predicament.”
“Either way, I say go for it, if for nothing else, then for the sex.” He paused for her reaction, but Ali was dumbfounded. “You know good sex is almost as rare as a pink unicorn, right?” Pete continued, squeezing her shoulder. “And I’m not talking about during Pride Week in LA. Pink unicorns are a dime a dozen then.”
Ali burst out laughing. “Good to know.”
“Seriously, though. I’m happy for you. Now, get to bed, ’cause you look like hell.” Pete playfully pushed her off the couch, forcing Ali to stand. “And if you’re only going to have two more weeks with that man, you need to be at the top of your game.”
She laughed while she walked back to her room. Her appearance was the least of her worries. Just when things had been looking up and she was regaining her confidence in both the saddle and her personal relationships, life was starting to crash around her again. Her immediate reaction to almost losing Harriet—a woman whom she’d known for just a few weeks, but who had become an indispensable anchor on her road to recovery—was a telltale sign of how precarious her advances had been. She’d panicked and lashed out at Hank, pushing him away when he obviously wanted to be her biggest ally.
This was the make-it-or-break-it point, where she either slipped back to where she was after her accident or kept moving forward. Wylda was already gone and Pete was leaving soon. They’d helped her get through the first half of her stint at Pebble Creek, but there was only one reason she had come this far. If it hadn’t been for Hank, she would have left in the first few days. He was the only man she had ever pursued outright; he had intrigued her enough to make her want to find out more. But he had also seen something in her and knew how to push her buttons just enough to get her to face her fears. An afternoon in the woods being challenged by him was better therapy than hours with a licensed psychiatrist, and the memory brought a smile to Ali’s face.
When she got back to her room, she pulled out her three-page schedule from weeks earlier and tore it up. Her impromptu adventures with Wylda and Pete—not to mention Hank—had gotten in the way of half the programs on the list anyway. She’d have to take a class on native Colorado wildflowers some other time.
Starting with a blank sheet from the notepad, Ali attempted to make a new plan to go along with her revised objectives. After writing Must-Dos Before Going Home at the top of the page and underlining it three times, she stuck the end of the pen between her teeth and chewed on the hard plastic.
Where to start? This was harder than she’d thought. She needed to make the most of the rest of her time here, which was the point of the entire thing in the first place. When she had first arrived she’d been too focused on the final result—getting back to work at the end of the month—instead of enjoying the journey.
Spitting the pen out, she tapped it on the still-blank paper. After a few seconds, she shook her head at the obvious and began writing.
1. Ride every day.
She looked at the words and cringed. While she’d overcome her irrational hesitation about getting back in the saddle and even successfully completed several trail rides, she was nowhere near as confident on a horse as she used to be. The thought of attempting a jump still made her want to throw up, and getting back in form to compete again could still be a huge obstacle.
She bit her lip and sighed. And? What else? It had to be something she wouldn’t do otherwise.
2. Talk to new people.
3. Sleep in.
She couldn’t think of anything else that didn’t seem frivolous. Pamper yourself? Relax?
Ali rolled her eyes and crossed out everything except the first imperative. Then she added:
2. Stop making lists.
To add emphasis to her decision, she tore off the sheet, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room.
◆ ◆ ◆
Taking the rest of her stay here one day at a time didn’t involve making plans, but she still looked forward to seeing Hank the next day. She hung out by the lake with her feet dangling in the water, waiting for him to park his pickup by the barn and imagining herself running up to greet him, but that moment never came. When her shoulders began reddening from the sun even after the fourth layer of sunscreen, she gave up the futile vigil.
“He called in sick,” Paulette said when Ali ran into her on the way inside and asked about Hank.
She went to double-check with Liz and got a similar response. “He asked me to let you know he wasn’t feeling well. Sorry I couldn’t get to you earlier. I got totally sidetracked.” The woman gestured at the packing boxes, sporting equipment, and furniture crammed into the lodge’s multicar garage. Although much of the clutter had already been moved outside the raised doors, there still wasn’t even enough space for one vehicle, let alone four. “We have our annual fire inspection in two weeks, and I’m pretty sure we can’t pass with all this junk in here.”
“Is he okay?” Ali absently lifted the flap of a nearby box as she casually tried to get a little bit more information out of Liz. While he had appeared fine the previous day, spending all night in the storm could have easily led to a delayed cold. Then again, she was also dismissive of him when she was rushing to Pete’s side. The male ego was a fragile thing, and he could have just been using the old illness ruse to now gently let her down.
“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry.” Liz waved her off, wrapping the power cord around the cracked base of a side lamp. “He just needs a few days to get it out of his system.”
Well, that didn’t clear anything up. She needed to take a different approach.
“You know, I’m really sorry. We tried to be discreet.” Ali wrung her hands. “I hope you don’t have any problems because of me.”
Putting down the lamp, Liz looked at her with a puzzled expression. “What are you talking about?”
“When we saw the police car here last night, we rushed in without thinking and it was probably obvious to everyone that we’d been together.” Ali looked at her sneakers, kicking a pebble aside.
“Well, of course I don’t want all of my guests hooking up with the staff, but I wouldn’t have set you up with my brother if I wasn’t okay with it.”
She looked up at Liz. “Excuse me?”
Liz laughed. “I purposefully pulled out of going to the fair so I could have Hank go in my place.”
“Why?” Ali wrinkled her brow in confusion.
Hank’s sister tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “He needed the nudge.”
Ali paused, considering the alternative. “So he really is sick?”
Liz frowned. “You thought he was just blowing you off?”
She sheepishly shrugged. “A little bit.”
“Listen.” The woman put an arm around Ali’s shoulder. “My brother isn’t very complicated when it comes to people. He’ll either like you or he won’t. And you can b
e pretty sure he likes you.”
Ali smiled up at her. “Thank you. Oh, and by the way—how formal is your father’s retirement party going to be?” She hadn’t even let Hank finish the invitation, but she had to admit the idea of meeting the rest of his family was increasingly appealing.
Liz drew her arm away. “He’s bringing you to that?” She sounded surprised, but she was smiling. “Then there’s no doubt about how he feels about you. Oh, and it’s black tie. Dad was a big deal in the force, so they’re going all out on his send-off.”
Ali stuck her hands in her pockets. “Your father is a police officer?”
“No. Air force. He’s been teaching for a while, just like—” She broke off, looked away, and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead before continuing. “Just like a lot of other senior officers who are nearing retirement age. That’s why the event is going to be at the academy. Dinner, speeches, music—that sort of thing. My husband, Jason, is flying down from Alaska for it, too.”
For some reason, adding Hank’s brother-in-law to the mix made Ali less apprehensive about the night. “You must be excited to see him. When was the last time he was home?”
Liz pursed her lips while she thought. “Colin’s tenth birthday, I guess. So almost three months. Sometimes I think Hank misses him the most, though.” She laughed.
“Are they close?” Ali was surprised; he didn’t mention Liz’s husband often.
The woman stepped away and picked up a smaller box. “Um, as close as you’d expect two guys who both like baseball and beer to be, I suppose.” She moved the load on top of another pile without even looking at its contents. “Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?”
The transition was smooth, yet it didn’t escape Ali’s attention how quickly Liz had changed the subject. Now she wanted to go to the party even more, just to meet Jason McGhee and find out what Hank’s sister had glossed over. “I have this really cute pastel A-line. It’s sleeveless and hits right above the knee,” she said, automatically answering the question with the first thing that came to mind.
Later, when she returned to her room, Ali fished the dress out from the closet and hung it on the door. The more she admired it, the more excited she got at the prospect of attending the party on Hank’s arm. Seeing it also gave her something to look forward to; hopefully it would make the time until then pass a little faster.
A new set of dining companions—including a former reality TV singer with scars on her arm and an East Coast senator’s grandson there by a court-ordered mandate—as well as an overnight camping trip helped keep Ali’s mind off Hank’s absence. But when he still hadn’t returned to work on Wednesday, she sought out Liz again in the cluttered garage.
“He’s almost good as new,” Liz told her, then leaned closer as if she was about to reveal a big secret. “And he may stop by tomorrow night if his flight isn’t delayed, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Flight?” Ali nearly knocked over a stack of chairs as she stepped backward in surprise. No one had mentioned Hank had left town. “He really must be feeling better.”
“I told you not to worry, and don’t go reading too much into it. I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all—it’s just I know how we can make things worse in our heads when we don’t have all the facts.” She smiled before scrunching her nose. “But then again, I probably just muddled it all up even more. Forget I said anything.” She waved her hand to dismiss the revelation. “Hank can tell you everything himself, but it’s all innocent. I promise.”
Curiosity was killing her, but she wasn’t going to pry. Especially when a grand idea had popped into her head. “In any case, I think I have a way to get some of this stuff off your hands.”
An hour later, they had two strong cowboys helping move things out of the garage.
Wiping her palms on her jeans, Liz shook her head. “I’ve wanted to do this for months, but he always came up with an excuse to stall.”
Ali carefully set down a large mirror. “Then why are you letting me take the furniture?”
“Because if I didn’t, you’d go out and buy it yourself.” Liz wiped a layer of dust off the frame’s top with her finger. “And that would just be a waste of money. Plus, it’s the thought that counts, and even though Hank probably won’t like it, I think he’ll still appreciate the gesture.”
Ali couldn’t help herself and gave Liz a hug. “Well, thank you for that,” she said.
“Thank me if you’re still standing after he sees what you’ve done to his place.” Liz chuckled. “Now, what else do you need?”
“A couch, for sure. No, not that one.” She waved at one of the guys eyeing a plaid monstrosity. “The brown leather—that’s it.”
The small moving truck full of items was due to be delivered to Hank’s apartment the next day. Ali was already mentally finishing off the redecorating with a bowl of fresh fruit in the kitchen and a vase of sunflowers on the new dining room table, but while she would have loved to find more artwork for the walls, that would have to wait.
Of course, any further effort would depend on Hank’s reaction to the whole thing. He could easily hate it all and—by extension—her for orchestrating the change, and the more she thought about it, the more she regretted rushing into the endeavor. The nagging doubts made her toss and turn for half the night, and then, at a quarter to eight, the buzzing of her cell phone cut her rest short after she’d only been asleep for a few hours.
Picking up the device, she saw a text message from her mother. Check your email.
“You know I can’t do that, Mom,” Ali muttered before her face slumped back onto her pillow, but the three words kept her from falling back asleep.
Check your email. She didn’t even think Grace knew how to send an email, so what would she be sending her absent daughter? But with no Internet access at Pebble Creek, she wouldn’t find out anytime soon.
Or could she?
Ali got up and began dressing. She was going into town anyway with the movers to set up Hank’s furniture. There were plenty of coffee shops with open Wi-Fi on the way. Her replacement phone wasn’t enabled, but she still had her laptop. Guests were locked out of the Pebble Creek network, so there was no reason to have given that up. The solution was simple, so why didn’t she think of it sooner?
A few hours later, she was sitting at a corner table with the foamy remnants of a large latte and an untouched scone, typing her password into her personal email account. Apart from credit card payment reminders and discount deals from some of her favorite online merchants, there was nothing of interest.
She opened up a new tab and tried the Foxhall corporate portal. Unknown login/password combination.
Nope, they still had her blocked.
What was she supposed to be looking for, anyway? Clicking back to the other tab, she scanned the inbox again. Still no messages from Grace or anyone else who wasn’t trying to either sell her stuff or get her to pay for stuff she’d already bought.
Ali rested her head in her hands and sighed. Picking up her phone, she was about to call her mother to ask about the cryptic message when the name of a sender about halfway down her inbox caught her eye.
Yale University Alumni Association.
Yale. Well, she did still have an active student email account from her college days. Her mother could have just used the first address that her messaging app populated without even realizing it. Could that be it? It was worth a shot.
Ali had to try the password four times before she got the right combination, but as soon as the app opened, there it was. But it wasn’t Grace who had written. Instead, the email at the top of the page was from her assistant, Nora. Based on the subject line, it was a direct forward from someone else. Knowing she was locked out of her work email and not having Ali’s personal address, Nora must have called Grace as a last-ditch effort to contact her.
Going
to such lengths meant it must have been important. Briefly wondering why in that case Nora didn’t just leave a message at Pebble Creek, Ali clicked the message and scanned the contents. A knot formed in her stomach as she began to read the short note from her divisional senior vice president at Foxhall Investments, Aaron Lassiter.
Dear Ms. Barros,
I hope you are spending your sabbatical well.
She had to stop at the wording and scoff. Sabbatical. Right.
If you feel inclined to return to work earlier than discussed, we are prepared to renegotiate the terms of your leave.
What the hell? Ali moved her chair back haphazardly and her knee rattled the table. Clearing her throat, she gave an apologetic shrug to a woman reading at a nearby table before turning her attention back to her laptop.
As you know, we have been exploring options to further expand our company’s reach within the Asian markets. After the recent meeting of our board of directors, we have decided to prioritize this plan, and your success in closing several strategic deals in the region put your name at the top of the list of candidates to head our proposed Pacific Northwest office.
“Holy crap,” Ali muttered under her breath. Her hands began to shake. So that’s why this couldn’t have been done through a phone message. He was offering her a promotion.
If this is something that would interest you, please get back to me at your earliest convenience. While our timeline is somewhat flexible, there is a Korean retail and manufacturers’ conference in Seattle next week that would be an ideal opportunity to get your feet wet.
Ali really shouldn’t have opened that email. She also shouldn’t have checked the online market reports or read any of the national news. Diving back into reality created information overload and gave her too much to think about after weeks of keeping the outside world away.
Although the offer of a promotion first excited her, the feeling soon turned into doubt and then fear. Leading a new office would give her autonomy and would be a logical step in her professional life, but it would also be a huge change. And change was something she wasn’t sure she needed—or could handle.
