by Cora Seton
“Could someone really get a truck near the root cellar without us hearing?”
“They must have,” Angus said. “It’s the only explanation.”
“During the wedding,” Kai said, comprehension dawning on him. “They waited until all of us were up at the manor. When was the last time someone checked the stores?” He hadn’t been in the root cellar for several days. He was still making use of fresh produce right out of the garden, although that would need to change soon. He shook his head, the magnitude of the loss washing over him again.
“As far as I can figure it’s been two days. Last week we focused on harvesting. Since then we’ve been working on the greenhouses and the hydroponics setup.”
“Whoever it was has been watching us. They knew where we’d be yesterday.”
“Who the hell could it be?”
Kai counted his breaths in and out, trying once more to settle his thoughts. “Montague. Who else? He wants this land, right? Maybe he’s not above playing dirty to get it.” The developer was part of the reality show, too. The bad guy waiting in the wings to steal their land if they didn’t reach all their goals. He already had plans drawn up for a subdivision of seventy homes he wanted to build on this property, and Martin Fulsom had pledged to hand Westfield over to him if Kai and the others didn’t meet the requirements on the reality television show.
Kai hated to think about a housing development swallowing this beautiful ranch.
“You really think Fulsom would let him have it?” Angus asked.
Kai regarded him in surprise. “You think he wouldn’t?”
Angus looked away. “I guess I hoped that a man supposedly dedicated to furthering sustainable living wouldn’t play fast and loose with a bit of heaven like Westfield. That maybe it was all a gimmick, and no matter what, he wouldn’t let it be developed.”
“He can’t go back on his word. If the show ends, we lose and this land isn’t developed, no one would ever take him seriously again,” Kai pointed out.
“Then this contest just got ugly,” Angus said. “We’re being filmed; Montague’s people aren’t. They can keep picking off our resources any time they want to.”
“Unless we get more serious about security. We’ve got to tell Boone.”
Angus nodded. “You know, I wouldn’t put it past Renata to do something along these lines to make the show more interesting.”
Kai thought that over. “You’re right, but I don’t think it’s her this time. If she pulls something like this, it will be near the end, when it doesn’t matter so much if we catch her at it. If she tried it now, and we found out, the show would go off the rails.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“We increase security. And then what? We need more greens—and starchy foods. How much can we grow in the greenhouses?”
“I don’t know. We might be fucked.”
Kai refused to believe it. “We’ve still got food,” he pointed out. “They didn’t steal our bison herd, right? We’ve got lots of meat. Plenty of people have survived with less.”
He and his sister Grace certainly had.
Kai shook that thought away. “We already planned to harvest a bison this fall,” he went on. “We’ve got chickens and pigs, so we’ll have eggs and pork. We’ve got whatever we can grow in the greenhouses through the remainder of the fall and winter—”
“Which none of us has ever done before,” Angus said.
“We’ll figure it out.” They’d have to. Kai knew why Angus was worried, though. It was one thing to build a greenhouse, and another thing altogether to manage succession growing in a way that kept the correct amount of food coming to the table. The seedlings they’d managed to grow hydroponically were struggling so far. Kai, Angus, Boone and Samantha Wentworth, the other member of the team devoted to growing their food, had been trying to get the nutrient mix right for the indoor plants. It was still an imperfect science for them.
Plus, the greenhouses were vulnerable. The main one had already been destroyed once. A heavy snowfall or a high wind could destroy it again. Or a man like Montague. Then what?
“We’ll have to plant more potatoes. Inside.” Kai could easily interpret the look Angus sent him. Neither of them knew if that was possible. It should work, but—
“We’d better plant them today,” Angus said. “It’ll be months before they’re ready. What do we do until then?”
“There are still carrots in the garden, cabbages and some potatoes, right?”
“Some.”
“I’ll do an inventory today and figure out a plan to stretch them out. Meanwhile we need a lock on the root cellar.”
“I’m on it,” Angus said. “We’d better post a guard there at night, too.”
“How do we let people know what’s going on without letting Renata in on our secret?”
“We can’t hold a meeting,” Angus mused. “We’ll have to pass the information on to people one at a time.”
“If it is Montague or Renata who stole the vegetables, then we’ll need to watch everything at night—the bison herd, the chickens and pigs… There are only ten of us men,” Kai said. “If half of us are up all night, that means we’ll need more sleep during the day. Renata’s going to notice.”
“We’ll figure it out. Meanwhile, you can distract her.”
“Me? How?”
“You’re next up for getting married. Keep the drama high. Keep her focused on you, not the patrols. Or the root cellar. Okay?”
“Okay,” Kai said reluctantly. High drama?
Wasn’t he supposed to look for the opposite of that when he chose a wife?
“What’s this?”
“Nothing!” Addison Reynolds snatched the paperback out of her sister Felicity’s hands and shoved it back into her faux-leather oversize purse. She’d been rummaging around for her water bottle to refill before she accompanied Felicity to sunrise yoga. She’d arrived in Manhattan late last night, but that hadn’t stopped Felicity from waking her up at 5:00 a.m. Addison lived miles away in Hartford, Connecticut, but she traveled to New York City every chance she got and camped out in Felicity’s fabulous guest room. The price she paid was being at the mercy of her sister’s constant campaign to improve her life.
“The Freedom of Yes? You’re actually reading that book?”
“It’s for my book club,” Addison lied, wishing she’d never dumped out the contents of her damn bag on the impeccable kitchen counter of her sister’s penthouse. As usual, ever since she’d arrived, the more Felicity flitted around like a gorgeous butterfly, the more she careened around like a drunken moth. It wasn’t fair the way Felicity glided through life like she’d been given some secret elixir of knowledge at birth. How did she manage to always look perfect, be perfect, do the perfect thing at the perfect moment? The fact that she was younger than Addison only made it worse.
But that was nothing new. Felicity had been outshining her since she was three years old.
“You’re not in a book club.” Felicity grabbed for the book again. Addison snatched her purse away, glad for the distraction. She refused to let her memories drive a wedge between her and her sister. She’d accepted the reality of their situation. Felicity was beautiful, and she was merely pretty. And Felicity’s kind of beauty lifted her high above anything Addison could attain.
“How do you know?”
“I know everything about you. Besides, you work all the time. When would you read books?” Felicity grabbed for the paperback again and this time succeeded in pulling it free. “I can’t believe you’re reading this.”
“Why not?” Addison read books—as often as she could. She lived vicariously through other people’s adventures. She couldn’t help that she hadn’t been handed an exciting modeling career like Felicity had.
Or a husband worth millions.
Addison stuffed down her jealousy and tried—unsuccessfully—to pull the paperback out of Felicity’s hands.
“For one thing, you never say yes to anything.” Felic
ity turned the book over and began to read the blurb on the back. “‘Worried? Stressed? Driven to distraction by your to-do list? What if you’ve got it all wrong? I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to work so hard.’ Hmm, I think this woman’s on to something, Addison.” Felicity read on. “‘Just say yes to the universe and see what adventures unfold.’” Felicity lowered the book and fixed her green eyes on Addison. The same green eyes that had helped win her first beauty pageant at three, her first modeling gig at five and left her at the top of her career at twenty-six. “Are you actually thinking about trying this?”
“Of course not.” Addison snatched the book back. It had been stupid of her to ever pick it up. It had caught her eye in the window of the bookstore she passed every day on her way to work at Kelson, Kelson and Klein back in Connecticut, and the ridiculous premise of its title worked on her until she finally had to go in and see what it was all about.
It sounded lovely letting the universe decide your fate—until you realized what a crap job it did most of the time. Halfway through with the book, Addison was carrying it around only until she passed a thrift shop, although donating it was probably cruel. It would only fall into the hands of someone more gullible than she was.
“No, of course not,” Felicity echoed, “because God forbid you let anything happen by chance. What was it your last boyfriend called you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She was sick and tired of having endless variations of this same conversation with her sister.
Felicity came and went like a will ’o wisp on the wind. If she had an impulse, she followed it. If a thought crossed her mind, she expressed it. That was all well and good if you were five foot ten and weighed 114 pounds—and had inherited their mother’s luminous skin and emerald-green eyes. And had been cosseted and fussed over by that same mother since you took your first steps down the beauty pageant catwalk. Unfortunately, Addison took after her father—brown hair, gray eyes and an unremarkable body.
Unlike Felicity, she had to work for her living—
Well, that wasn’t exactly fair. Felicity worked, too—often under uncomfortable circumstances, and she was constantly watching her weight, while Addison could grab an ice cream sundae now and then without being afraid she’d lose her actuarial job at the insurance company.
As for Felicity’s relationship with their mother… Addison wasn’t sure whether to envy it or run away screaming. Marjorie Reynolds had peaked at sixteen, when she won the Miss Connecticut pageant, and had never succeeded in making the leap to a modeling career. She was a force to be reckoned with in Felicity’s life. Determined to take part in every minute of her daughter’s success.
Addison had experienced her mother’s intense focus once upon a time, when it had been her on that beauty pageant stage—before Felicity was old enough to compete in the bigger pageants. It had been a heady time. She still remembered the rush of fear and excitement when she’d stepped out before the judges. She’d loved to perform. Had won a competition or two. When she received a crown, her mother’s love was as sweet as cotton candy. When she lost—
Well.
That was long past. No sense worrying about it now.
She worried about Felicity, though. Still caught up in the game—
But Felicity was always a winner. And when Addison looked out at the skyline from Felicity’s penthouse, she had a hard time keeping her jealousy under control. She wanted this. The view, the beautiful furniture and appliances. The Manhattan address… And not just the beautiful trappings. She wanted to feel like Felicity felt. Like she was someone who mattered.
“I want to talk about it.” Felicity snatched the book out of her hand again. “You’re twenty-nine. Single.”
“Thank you for reminding me.”
“Beautiful and talented—and wasting your life playing it safe. Isn’t it time you took a chance?” She waved the book in Felicity’s face. “Say yes.”
“I don’t want to say yes.” She’d long since learned smart choices and hard work were the way to get ahead for someone like her.
“Uptight. That’s what Kevin called you when he dumped you. Uptight. Rigid. A twenty-nine-year-old stick in the mud.”
“Why are you being so mean?” Sometimes Addison felt that her sister’s life was so unerringly successful she jumped on Addison’s failures because she got bored.
“Because its true!” Felicity exploded. “All you do is go to that damn job and work overtime.”
“So I can save up for a down payment—”
“In New Jersey, which is as close to the City as you’ll ever be able to afford to buy a house. And where you’ll be bored for the rest of your life, like you are in Connecticut. You could rent a place here.”
“I could rent a closet here,” Addison corrected her. “I’m not going to live in New Jersey. I have lots of fun. When I’m not working, I go to parties all the time.”
“You throw parties all the time, you mean.”
“What’s the difference?” Addison loved to throw parties. Had since she was a teenager. It was like being onstage in a way—like throwing a performance for your guests in which they could participate rather than sitting in the audience. “You should have come to the last one. You would have loved it. The theme was—”
“The theme was, the theme was, the theme was—when are you going to stop playacting at life and start living it? Have you ever realized you always throw parties for someone else and you never celebrate yourself?”
Stung, Addison turned away. Her parties were the best part of her life, and everyone said they were wonderful. So inventive. Always something new. What was wrong with that? If she couldn’t afford to go everywhere and do everything, she recreated it as best she could in her little apartment in Hartford. She didn’t need to be the center of attention. Not like Felicity. She loved celebrating her friends. None of them were rich, either. They appreciated the way she brought some glamour to their lives. It might be different if she was living in the City, but New York was so expensive she’d never be able to own her own—
“Addy, what do you want more than anything?” Felicity demanded.
“Your penthouse,” Addison said without thinking, then bit her lip. Shit. The last thing she wanted was for Felicity to know how much she envied her. “I mean—” She was going to say she wanted to open her own event planning business, but that was a secret she’d held close for years, and she found she couldn’t voice it. Somehow Felicity’s penthouse encompassed that desire: it had been Felicity’s reward for achieving her modeling goals. Addison wanted to achieve her goals, too.
Felicity blinked. “Done,” she said after a beat.
“Yeah, right.” She wasn’t anywhere near close to becoming an event planner, certainly not in New York City. She didn’t deserve a place like Felicity’s penthouse, and even if she did—
“No, I’m serious. I invited you here this weekend to tell you something.” Felicity took a breath. “It’s kind of big, Addy. Please don’t throw a wobbly.”
“You’re scaring me,” Addison said. “What is it?”
“Evan and I are moving to Rome. It makes sense for my career, and his company is opening up a division there, and—”
“Rome?” Addison gripped the counter when the floor seemed to drop out from under her. “You’re moving to Rome?”
Figured.
Another adventure for Felicity. More same old, same old for her. She pictured her drive back to Connecticut Sunday night, imagining all the fun and excitement Felicity would have in her new life. Meanwhile, her existence would become that much narrower. No more trips to New York with free accommodations at Felicity’s place. No more riding the coattails of Felicity’s glamorous life.
“Addison, did you hear me?”
She made herself smile. “Of course. That’s amazing for you, sweetie. I’ll come visit, and you’ll show me all around.”
“You weren’t paying attention.”
Addison tried to play back
the conversation in her mind. “Your career. Evan’s company.”
“Mom,” Felicity said quietly.
“What about Mom?”
“She won’t be there.”
Addison’s breath caught in her throat as the implications became clear to her. Felicity was making a break for it.
“Oh, Felicity.”
Her sister put up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. Evan’s insisting. I know he’s right, but… it isn’t easy. She’s going to be so angry.”
Addison could only nod. Her mother would be furious at Felicity’s defection.
“It’s just… she keeps saying…”
Addison moved to hug her when Felicity’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Felicity broke free and wiped the back of her arm over her cheeks. “She keeps talking about the end of my career. How I’d better live it up now because it’s all almost over for me.”
“Jesus.” Addison wanted to throttle her mother. “You know that’s not true.”
“Sure, it is. I’m twenty-six. She’s right; I won’t be a model forever. I need to figure out what comes next—before I’m forced to. I can’t do that with her around.”
“Evan’s pretty smart to bring you somewhere you can have space to do that,” Addison admitted. “I’m going to miss you, though.”
“No, you’re not.” Felicity lifted her chin and forced a smile to her face. “Because you’re going to be too busy having your own adventure.”
“Right. An actuarial adventure. In Connecticut. Whoop-de-doo!”
“Not an actuarial adventure,” Felicity corrected. “A crazy, wonderful, New York City adventure. I’m giving you my penthouse.” She braced Addison’s shoulders with her hands. “I want you to take it.”
Addison stilled. Was she for real?
“If—and only if—you do this,” Felicity added, reaching for The Freedom of Yes and shaking it at Addison.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you have to say yes—to everything—for one month. If you do, I’ll give you my penthouse mortgage-free for one year.”
