by Ann Evans
Kari looked at Tessa sharply. There had been more bitterness in the girl’s tone than she’d intended, Kari was sure. Did Tessa really think that?
The teenager gave Kari a suddenly amused glance. “You know, I heard Aunt Addy telling the Zias yesterday that she thinks Dad needs to get remarried.”
“Oh?” Kari replied, keeping her tone carefully neutral though her imagination was speeding like a teenage driver. “Any candidate in particular in mind?”
“I don’t know. They clammed up when they saw me. I’m not supposed to know anything that goes on around here.”
“Would you hate having a stepmother?”
Tessa laughed. “Are you kidding? I’d love it. If Dad gets remarried someday, he won’t have the time or interest in driving me nuts.”
Before Kari could pose a follow-up question or two, the teenager moved toward the door. “I have to go,” she said. “I have a boatload of homework to do, and Dad will have a hissy fit if I don’t make a dent in it before he gets home. Plus I’m making him an early dinner tonight.”
In another moment she was gone, and Kari was left to settle in. She unpacked slowly, feeling uncomfortable in a room that so clearly bore the stamp of its previous occupants.
Finally she lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A model helicopter, a snazzy red one, spun slowly in an invisible air current. She could imagine a younger Nick gazing up at it in the dark, full of enthusiasm and already envisioning a future for himself. Hard to reconcile that image with the stern-faced dictator she knew him to be. Staying in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by the touchstones of his early years, made her feel as though she was trespassing.
Her cell phone rang. Hurriedly she retrieved it from the bottom of her backpack and discovered Eddie Camit on the other end. He was the photographer who planned to link up with her on their New Zealand assignment.
“I hope you haven’t packed your snowboots yet,” he said.
She and Eddie were supposed to fly up to New Zealand’s Mt. Cook, where an anthropological expedition had recently uncovered some bones of early man, the oldest found in that region. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“The assignment’s off, at least temporarily. The government doesn’t like the idea of outsiders getting first crack at the dig. They want local talent.”
“But we have a contract.”
“Tell that to the government. There’s more red tape there than in Washington.”
“I was counting on this assignment.”
“Patience. I haven’t given up yet. I’m pulling all the strings I can.”
She glanced around the room, imagining herself staying at Lightning River Lodge beyond the one week she’d planned. Staying in Nick’s old bedroom. Sam D’Angelo had already told her she could stay as long as she liked. But with the exception of allowing her more time to research her father’s last trip, the idea didn’t hold much appeal. “Pull harder,” she said.
Apparently sensing some undercurrent, Eddie asked, “Where are you?”
“Colorado.”
“Playing Maria Von Trapp?”
“More like Cinderella, before the prince.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She sighed heavily. “Isn’t there anything else we can do? I’m ready for a new thrill.”
“I’ve put the word out for the both of us. If we really can’t talk New Zealand into following through, then there’s a possibility I can get us Jamaica.”
“Antone Metcalf?”
“Yep. He’s about ready to bring up the Magdalena. Rumor has it that the ship is loaded with more goodies than they originally thought, and he hasn’t given anyone an exclusive yet. How are your sea legs?”
“Say the word, and I’m there.”
Eddie laughed. They’d worked on dozens of assignments together now, and they made a good team. She trusted Eddie, felt safe with the guy. He was handsome, energetic and completely in love with a hunky paramedic, Buzz, from his hometown. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I find out anything,” he promised. “Sit tight and stay safe.”
They hung up and, for several long minutes, Kari just stared at that tiny helicopter overhead. As nice as the D’Angelo family had been to her, as much as she knew they found her contribution helpful, she couldn’t stay much longer. She was her father’s daughter, and traveling was in her blood.
The call to adventure. Discovery of the unknown. The exposure to different cultures. She loved all that. So even if the assignment in New Zealand was on hold, why should she commit to more than the week she’d originally promised Sam D’Angelo?
Of course, there was still one good reason to stay. And if Nick came through with this tour operator he knew…
She tugged her backpack onto her lap. Digging deep, she pulled out her worn, dog-eared paperback copy of her father’s last book, Hours of Ice. The pad of her thumb ruffled the pages lovingly. After so long, she knew it almost by heart now—every page.
She needed to think, but she couldn’t do it in this room. This was Colorado, one of the most scenic states in America. It was time to get outside and see more of it. Clear some cobwebs from her brain. Dinner was a few hours away yet, and she was free until then.
Tucking the book under her arm, she headed for the hiking trail Addy had told her wove around Lightning Lake. She waved at George as she passed the front desk. Just as she was about to push through the wide front doors of the lodge, she saw Renata making a beeline toward her.
No, please, she begged silently as she stopped and waited. No dishes to wash or salt shakers that need refilling. I need some private time.
The older woman handed her a sheet of paper. “I’ve written down tonight’s menu for you to memorize. A couple of Rose’s specialties might cause you trouble. Do you want to go over it together so you can recite them properly?”
Kari glanced at the page. She wasn’t willing to give up the opportunity to escape outdoors. “Let me try them by myself for a while. If I’m completely tongue-tied, I’ll come running for a crash course.”
Renata gave her a short, pleased nod. “Very well. Good luck.”
Kari thanked her, then slipped away. She tucked the menu into the back pocket of her shorts and fled into the sweet, soft afternoon sunlight before the woman could think of anything else that needed doing.
“ROXANNE, I SWEAR TO YOU, he’ll be fine. Bran can be a jerk sometimes, but he’s not stupid. And he’s definitely not suicidal.”
Nick sat behind his desk at Angel Air, cradling the receiver against his shoulder and ear as he listened to Brandon O’Dell’s long-time girlfriend break into another fit of weeping. He’d made the mistake of calling her to see if Bran had come home or at least been in touch. He hadn’t, that bastard, and now Roxanne was sure he was lying dead in some hotel room with slashed wrists. Or that he’d jumped off the top of some building.
Maybe you ought to, buddy, Nick thought. Because when I see you again, you’re a dead man.
He realized he was grinding his teeth. He unclenched his jaw and tried to listen for a break in Roxanne’s sobbing. He was having trouble focusing. After getting the word from the airframe tech that he couldn’t get Raven One back in the air until this weekend was well over, Nick almost felt like weeping himself. But he couldn’t desert Roxanne now. The woman sounded nearly hysterical.
She cried and cursed and threatened to pack up her belongings and go home to her parents. Eventually she ran out of air and energy and settled into hiccupping, sniffling misery.
“All right, Rox,” Nick said in a dead-calm voice. “You’ve got that out of your system, and now I want you to listen to me. I’m going to tell you something that Bran isn’t ready to admit yet. He may not even recognize the truth himself.”
“What truth?”
“That you’re the best damned thing that’s happened to him in years.”
That got her attention. “Did he tell you that?”
“No! We don’t have those kinds of t
alks. But he’s come as close to saying it as he ever could, and I know him. There’s never been a woman like you for him. Not ever.”
“Then why doesn’t he come home? I only want to help him.”
“Because he’s a dope who doesn’t deserve you, and that he does know. Don’t give up on him. I can give you a dozen reasons why he’s worth the effort. Just wait him out. He’ll come home.”
Roxanne’s breath caught, and he could hear the pain in her voice. “I love him so much, Nick.”
Nick rammed a hand through his hair. How could Bran do this to Roxanne? “I know you do, Rox. And I promise, as soon as I can, I’ll come to your place. If he’s not home by then—and I really believe he will be—we’ll look for him together. And when we find him, we’ll help him clean up his act.”
“When he comes home, maybe we could do one of those things. You know, where all his friends get together and try to convince him he needs to get help. For his drinking, I mean.”
“An intervention? Hell, forget anything that subtle. If you want, I’ll hog-tie the SOB, throw him in the back of my Jeep and haul him down to the closest rehab center. It’s time he got his head straight before he loses the best thing he’s ever had.”
That seemed to help a little. Nick kept his promises—he sure as hell didn’t let down people he cared about. And Roxanne, aware of so much of the history he and Bran shared, had to know she could count on him to follow through.
She sighed heavily. “He trusts you, Nick. If anyone can make him see reason, you can.”
“I know.”
They spoke a little more, and after a while Roxanne stopped crying and started talking about a possible future with Bran. It was a good thing, since Nick had just about run through all the sympathetic comments he could come up with. What was wrong with all the females in his life lately? They were either sad, mad or weepy.
When he got off the telephone, he made a few notes of places he could call to track down Bran. It was time the guy stopped living in the past and started working toward a future. With Roxanne.
He went back to reviewing the repair bill on Raven One. What the insurance wouldn’t cover wasn’t astronomical, but it wasn’t peanuts, either. The worst part, even with the help of his friend’s chopper to pick up the slack and take tours, it would be difficult to handle the overflow of tourists who always made the trek to the mountains during fall season change.
He tossed the invoice away from him. Make about a million more beds, Kari Churchill, and you might, just might, cover the cost.
He scowled, telling himself not to think about her. It only made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he hated that reaction. A man could handle what he could define, and for the life of him, he couldn’t get a clear-cut sense of his feelings for her.
He had a sudden, vivid recollection of watching her in the sunlight outside the park office, and then again up at the lodge office last night. She’d been sitting beside his father at the computer. They’d been laughing over the way she mangled Italian words from some genealogy Web site she’d found for him.
Since the stroke, his father had steadily been regaining strength and mobility in his limbs, but with the exception of time spent with Mom, he didn’t laugh much anymore. Not like that. Not with the full-throated pleasure that this near stranger seemed to be able to coax out of him. Sam D’Angelo looked charmed, and at first, Nick hadn’t liked the idea that this woman might tamper with his father’s emotions carelessly. He even had the uncharitable thought that Sam ought to have better sense than to be taken in by her manipulative ways.
But the longer he watched, the more he became aware that there wasn’t any manipulation going on. Their conversation was relaxed and natural, with nothing remotely false or artificial about it. They were just two people enjoying each other’s company, caught up in word games and nonsense and friendship.
For just a moment Nick found himself smiling, too. She had a sweet, generous laugh and a pretty profile, with just a touch of mischief in the dimple that creased her cheek. No wonder his father found her easy to be around.
Something moved inside him, like the first pangs of hunger after a long fast. All right, he’d reasoned, so you’re not as indifferent to her as you’d like to be. He had to grudgingly admit that Kari Churchill was doing her best to fit in, to hold up Addy’s end of responsibilities at the lodge, and to do it with very little complaining. That had to be the reason why he’d made that offer to talk to Walt, his friend with the tour guide operation. It just seemed fair to give her a helping hand.
Besides, what was wrong with admiring a good-looking woman?
That question came so unexpectedly that he’d stepped away from the office doorway and let his smile fade in an instant. He prided himself on having his life under control, and his reaction to Kari Churchill didn’t feel controlled. He’d been almost relieved when Aunt Sof came up to him with a complaint about one of her clothes dryers.
But now he’d reasoned it out. He was just tired. Trying to do too much lately. His fractured thinking had played havoc with the logical, sensible side of his brain that told him his best view of Kari Churchill was yet to come. When she got in her rental car and drove down the mountain for the last time. Now that would be something to smile about.
He closed his eyes a moment, concentrating on images of his favorite place in the world, King’s Creek Falls. Years ago, when he’d been flying through hot, gritty sandstorms, just the thought of that little patch of heaven had been able to lift his spirits. He was long overdue for a visit. Maybe after the weekend he’d slip away for a couple of hours.
Feeling calmer, Nick lifted his head and immediately saw that someone had pulled into the parking lot. A red, jazzed-up piece of junk that only a teenager could love gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Nick knew who it belonged to. The local bad boy, Kyle Cambridge.
Moments later he watched the kid make his way up the gravel path. He knew that walk. It reminded him of his brother Rafe’s teenage strut. Full of attitude and anger. Cocky and self-confident. Times changed, but surly teenagers stayed pretty much the same.
Kyle opened the office door, nodding curtly toward Nick. The teenager was handsome, too handsome, but Nick couldn’t help thinking that he also looked tougher than the last time he’d seen him, too. Guess he spent more time at the gym, now that he’d gotten tossed out of school for drag racing.
Nick had heard all about Kyle’s brush with the law from a very biased, unreliable source. Tessa. His daughter was enchanted with this young hoodlum, championing him every time his name came up in conversation. Nick considered that a bad sign. Of all the schoolgirl crushes Tessa could have, she didn’t need one on Kyle Cambridge.
The boy was trouble.
And now he was standing right in front of Nick.
Nick tried to keep from frowning, but he couldn’t help the prickle that went up the base of his neck. He wished he’d closed up shop early today.
CHAPTER NINE
HALF AN HOUR LATER Nick closed up Angel Air and went home. At the cabin he found Tessa in the most unexpected of all places—the kitchen. Just like her mother, the girl hated to cook and lacked any talent for it. So he was surprised to find her completely surrounded by pots and pans, the counter cluttered with grocery items.
He lifted the lid off a pot simmering on the stove. An undistinguishable brown goo bubbled back at him. “Science project?” he asked.
Tessa made a face. “I’m fixing you dinner.”
That was an even bigger surprise. After their recent argument over the dress, there were still so many harsh words never healed between them. Nick arched his brow at her. “You know…the cops will test for poisonous substances.”
His daughter’s smile ignited. “I’m not going to poison you. I love you.”
Something about looking gift horses in the mouth occurred to Nick, but he couldn’t help being skeptical. “Aren’t you the same Tessa D’Angelo who swore a few days ago you’d never speak to me again?
”
“I’m much too mature to carry a grudge,” she said with an indignant sniff. “Besides, I know you only want what’s best for me.” From the counter she lifted a strawberry, then offered it to him. “Have one.”
He popped the fruit into his mouth, trying not to look or sound suspicious. Tessa knew he loved strawberries. Chewing, he asked, “So what’s for dinner?”
“Beef stroganoff. Scalloped potatoes. And strawberry trifle for dessert. All your favorites.”
Now he was sure something was up. And he had a gut-sinking feeling he knew what all this was about. “Need any help?”
“No. Although dinner will be a little late. My first batch of trifle went all runny and gross on me, so I’m starting over. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine. I have a couple of chores I can do—”
“Here,” Tessa said, picking up another strawberry and holding it close to his mouth. “Open wide.”
Nick caught her hand, withdrew the berry and placed it back on the counter. As much as he loved strawberries, they didn’t hold much appeal when they were being used to soften him up. “Easy, Chef,” he said. “You’re overplaying your hand.”
Tessa gave him a disappointed, wide-eyed look. “Huh?”
“All this domesticity when you normally pitch a fit if I ask you to open a can of soup? You want something.”
“Can’t I just be trying to make you happy? I know I’ve been a brat lately.”
“So all this doesn’t have anything to do with a visit I got today?” Nick opened the refrigerator, plucked out a bottle of water, then tossed the screw-top in the nearby garbage pail. He brought his gaze back to Tessa. “From Kyle Cambridge?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Before Tessa looked away for a moment, Nick saw the flash of emotion dance in her dark eyes. Damn! Whether he liked it or not, his daughter cared about that boy. He took a deep breath, knowing that things were going to go downhill fast. “I can’t hire him, Tessa.”
