Her Heart's Bargain

by Cheryl Harper

  When his sister plopped back down in his desk chair and buried her face in her hands, Ash wished once more for Macy. “I’m sorry. I should have offered to...” He wasn’t sure how to complete the sentence.

  Her eyes were dry when she craned her neck to glare up at him. “You think I would have told you to... What? Keep quiet so I could have my society wedding?” Her frown left deep lines on her forehead. “I would yell at you right now, but my head is killing me.” She dropped her head back down on her arms; Ash squeezed her shoulders and did his best to be patient.

  “At least we’ll be infamous now. Should make it easier to find new jobs,” Ash said drily and smiled as his sister chuckled.

  “To think, I could have been first lady. I could have slept in the Lincoln bedroom or walked barefoot in the Oval Office or...” She sighed. “I can’t even think of interesting things to do in the White House.”

  “Well, not as the president’s wife.” Ash squeezed her shoulders again. “If you were the president, on the other hand, you could...” He tipped his head back to study the water spots on his ceiling. “I don’t know, prank call England’s prime minister or...” He snapped his fingers. “Change out all the fancy bread bowls for some of Dad’s lucky baskets.”

  “Can you imagine the amount of sage Mom would need to eliminate the skeeves from that place?” Winter laughed as she straightened. “You’re right. I’d make a much better president than first lady.”

  Ash was quiet as he moved back around to sit across from her. “Okay. We found your next job. What should I do?” He propped one foot on his desk and straightened his aching leg out beside it.

  “What if I’m not joking?” Winter said as she propped her chin on one hand. “Maybe not president but... What if we could give the Callaways a hard time in the next election? It would be sweet.”

  Ash shrugged. “I’m not sure I was joking, either.” Their eyes met across the desk and the sudden stillness was filled with expectation. “You’re about to have some time on your hands.”

  Winter didn’t immediately answer. How she traced the lines on his desk calendar made it clear she was weighing the possibilities.

  Ash grunted as he leaned forward. “Hey, Winter, what am I going to do?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are going to stay here. Seriously.”

  Ash raised an eyebrow, ready to hear whatever she had to say.

  “Board of directors. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it before. Well, I thought they might be the answer, but couldn’t see a way to make it work. The Callaways have some pull, but they aren’t the majority. All you have to do is fight for the votes of the board of directors and win.” The corners of her mouth turned up. “I have an idea on how to make that happen.”

  “Couldn’t you do the same thing?” Ash asked, confused. “We could both stay here. Nothing changes.” He paused. “Except you’re single again, I guess.”

  “Sure, but I don’t want to.” Winter wrinkled her nose. “There’s too much Callaway involvement. I need something new.”

  Ash sighed long and loud. “Are you going to help me with whatever your plan is or am I going to have to call Mom?”

  “Running to Mommy,” Winter said, her eyes filled with laughter. Ash wasn’t sure he liked where he was, but he was certain that his sister was going to recover and fast. That was something he’d been too afraid to consider. He should have bet on Winter above all else.

  “I’m going to transfer Macy out.” Ash winced as he moved his leg, but the pain came more from the center of his chest. If she wasn’t here, would this be a fight worth winning? “She’s got to keep a job. When things settle down, I’ll see if I can get her back.”

  “You better clear that with her first,” Winter said drily.

  “Then what do I do?” Ash asked.

  “All you gotta do is make sure Sweetwater loves you. Well, East Tennessee to be safe. I mean, the people on the board are from other small towns but they’re all connected to Sweetwater somehow. You win this place, get it behind you and no one else, I think you stand a chance of keeping your job.”

  “And remaining in an uneasy standoff with the chief ranger and the Callaways,” Ash huffed. That didn’t sound like fun.

  Winter tapped his hand. “Soon, the Callaways will have a bigger problem. We’re both going to be winning hearts and minds, brother. I can challenge Whit, you wait and see. There’s still all those reporters investigating. We make you look like a hero instead of a hermit, and this all turns out like it’s supposed to—Kingfishers saving the world, one precious piece of it at a time.”

  Ash gulped. “The world. We’re going to save the world. I was just hoping to protect one small part of Tennessee.”

  Winter’s sly smile would have scared him, but he was sure she was on his side. “Sure. We’ll do that first, okay? It’ll be easy.”

  She stood, smoothed down her skirt. “I bet the reporters are still waiting on a final quote. I’ll handle that, Ash. You stay here.” Before he could argue with her, she’d swept out, her head held high. No matter how this turned out, Kingfishers on top or Callaways, she was going to be okay. He believed that.

  And he’d roll with the punches.

  Before things got too wild, he had to get Macy out of harm’s way. He’d never forgive himself if she was hurt in the fallout.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “MY FIRST SICK DAY,” Macy said as she plopped back against the headboard. “What do I do now?”

  Weekends were for errands. Sleeping late. Brunch at Smoky Joe’s Café. Good naps. And good books.

  Macy had never had any trouble filling the Saturdays and Sundays that interrupted her work at the ranger station, but this unexpected day to do nothing seemed to stretch out before her. Waaay out before her.

  “What should I do with this unexpected gift?” She rested her head against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. “I could paint.” But not before clearing it with the landlord. The laundry was done. Why could she name seven different things stacked on her desk that needed her attention, but she couldn’t find a single fun thing that excited her? “Knoxville? Shopping? Maybe a movie.”

  When Macy closed her eyes again, all she could imagine was a sea of aggressive reporters tearing into Ash.

  He’d said she couldn’t do it. Taking a sick day was not her style.

  Letting Ash be right on something like this wasn’t her style, either.

  He liked to make too many sweeping pronouncements. She had to prove him wrong about this.

  “Get dressed. Get out. Do not go anywhere near the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve.” Simple. Macy liked lists, so she made a list of the only things she had to do that day.

  Since the Reserve wrapped around Sweetwater like a hug, it might be nearly impossible to avoid the park if she stayed in town, but she’d worry about that after she got dressed. As she slapped hangers aside one by one, ignoring jeans and comfy sweaters, inspiration hit. She could avoid the ranger station all day and flout Ash’s sick-day strategy. There was still plenty of ground to cover in Sweetwater, and there were plenty of business owners to sweet-talk into posting the open house invitation.

  As she slipped on her uniform, Macy could feel the smug smile curling her lips. It was going to be a good day.

  When she bent to pick up her phone to slide it into her pocket, she had to check for a text message from Ash. There wasn’t one. That wasn’t surprising, but the deflation of her hope was.

  “He’s busy.” Macy chastised herself for her own neediness and wandered into the open area that functioned as living room, dining room, kitchen and graveyard for all her failed hobby experiments. “And this place is a wreck.” In a quick blitz, Macy separated the library books she’d snatched up on Saturday in an attempt to forestall this “what do I do with myself” morning. When she was done making piles, she had three knotted skeins of
yarn, knitting needles, crochet hooks, her laptop and a guitar she’d picked up at a garage sale three years ago because she wanted to learn to play.

  As it turned out, learning to play guitar by reading about it in a library book was impossible. Or impractical. Or just not advisable. The same was true of knitting and crocheting, and the role-playing game she’d attempted on Sunday afternoon had sucked the life out of her laptop in no time.

  Apparently the quest to become the kingdom’s ruling wizard warrior required more firepower than she had at her disposal.

  “No hobbies. No problem. I’ll go back to the library. I love that place.” Macy walked into her bare kitchen. So bare. Grocery shopping was one exciting adventure she could add to her Monday to-do list. “Oh, boy. The thing I hate the most.” Cookbooks. She could check some of those out. Her grandmother hadn’t experimented much, but cooking was one of those things that had a useful end. Even Gran had watched chefs whip up miraculous appetizers while she folded laundry.

  If Macy could overcome her aversion to the grocery store and the hurdle of preparing every meal for one, cooking could be fun.

  “Ash could take all the leftovers. That might work, not that he deserves any sort of treat.” But it was easy to imagine Ash seated at her tiny bar while she scrambled eggs and brewed coffee. Breakfast was her go-to meal, no matter the time of day. She would talk; he would listen.

  Why did something so simple seem so out of reach?

  Especially when she was annoyed with the man.

  Macy rubbed her forehead as she stared hard at the few items in the almost empty refrigerator, the worry and disappointment over Ash’s lack of communication tangled into a messy knot in her stomach. What time had they settled on for the press conference? Had he managed to find all the reports and sweet-talk the copier into producing enough sets for the reporters who showed up? Of course he had. Or he hadn’t. Why hadn’t he called her? She could have helped over the phone or gone in to make sure everything went off correctly.

  That’s what she did for him, ensured a smooth operation.

  But he stuck her on the sidelines.

  Unless she ignored him and went charging up the mountain to the ranger station. She only wanted to help.

  Worn-out and frosty from staring in the refrigerator while she argued with herself, Macy made a decision. “You can’t stay here, obviously.”

  She had to get out of the apartment. Nothing would improve if she stayed here by herself. Since the campground diner was off-limits because it was smack-dab in the center of the Reserve, breakfast would have to come from Smoky Joe’s. Macy grabbed her keys, her purse and the stack of copies she’d made of the open house announcement, and hit the door. She was halfway to her car when the first wave of cold air convinced her to run back inside for a jacket.

  Catching a cold when you’re out running around instead of staying home like you’ve been ordered is what you deserve, Macy Elizabeth Gentry. Why was it that her grandmother’s voice was so easy to hear at some points? If she’d looked over her shoulder to see her grandmother standing behind her, Macy would not have shrieked in surprise. What did that mean? “You are becoming your grandmother.”

  As she slid into her car, Macy closed her eyes. That was one thing she’d have to fight to prevent. Her grandmother had been a good woman. She’d also been humorless and a disappointment as the loving, caring type. Macy would do better on that score.

  “Smoky Joe’s. Shops on Main Street. The library. Grocery store. Then we’ll see.” Macy nodded and made the quick trip into town. Parking should be easy on a Monday. Weekends were big business, but during the winter, weekdays were slow even along the tourist strip. Today, instead of wide-open space, both sides of the street were already lined with cars, so Macy made a second loop to find a spot right next to Sweetwater Souvenir. It was still early enough that the shop was closed, but the windows showed some fun, kitschy stuff. The bear wearing a park ranger hat needed to come home with her. He was too cute.

  Why hadn’t she ever been inside? Today was the day. She’d ask Janet Abernathy to hang up a poster.

  “Coffee. Must have coffee.” Macy entered Smoky Joe’s and immediately sniffed long and loud. The place always smelled like Macy imagined heaven would: warm coffee in the air along with the hint of banana nut bread.

  “Well, now, ain’t seen you in some time.” Odella, the café’s owner, was behind the counter, bustling around to clear up nonexistent crumbs while she waited for the next customer. Macy was a bad guesser of people’s ages, but if she had to pin a year on Odella, she’d guess one hundred and eleven based on her white hair and the years on her face, but by energy level, she was only eighteen. “What can I get you, Miss Macy?”

  Macy smiled. That “Miss Macy” had such a lilting, songlike quality that she smiled every time Odella said it. She might look a lot like Macy’s grandmother had, stern and just...old, but the twinkle in her eyes and how she said Macy’s name was different.

  “Big coffee. Bigger slice of that banana nut bread, please.” Macy pulled her credit card out of her wallet and remembered she was there on business. “Can I talk you into displaying one of these announcements about our open house this weekend?” Macy pointed at the Reserve logo on her shirt. “The ranger station is going to have hikes and the fire trucks, a cool photo opportunity, activities for kids.” She took out a copy and fluttered it to demonstrate how ready she was to give it away.

  Odella didn’t immediately answer. “’Spose it could go on the bulletin board.” She motioned at the far wall near the bathroom.

  The lukewarm reception concerned Macy, but she hurried to hang the paper before Odella changed her mind.

  After she’d paid and Odella handed her a cup and a bag with her bread inside, Macy paused. Should she scurry back to her car?

  Odella was watching her intently from behind the counter. Macy glanced around the room, ready to stare down anyone who wanted to make a thing of what was happening at the Reserve with Ash.

  Lots of locals very obviously didn’t look back at her. Macy didn’t know any of them well enough to force the issue, so she slid into the nearest booth and decided to focus on her own breakfast. Specifically, the breakfast she’d treated herself to and hadn’t talked herself out of.

  At some point, she’d be able to waste money on “frivolous” purchases without a mental image of her grandmother shaking her head in disapproval.

  As she took the first bite, Macy sighed happily. If she had been sick, this would have restored her. Then she washed it down with a sip of strong black coffee and knew without a doubt she’d live forever. This was Odella’s secret: magic breakfasts that gave her eternal life and endless energy.

  “It’s good.” Odella had followed her, coffee pot in hand, and was leaning against the booth, her arms crossed over her chest. “I know it.”

  Macy nodded, unwilling to waste mouth time with speaking until every bite was gone. “Yes. This is the key to world peace, Miss Odella. Why are you hiding it here?”

  Odella’s lips flattened into a smug smile. “Wouldn’t want none of that paparazzi following me around. This bread would make me famous and I ain’t got time for that.” She wagged her finger. “Didn’t expect to see you here on a workday.”

  Macy sipped her coffee. “I’m going to see if I can get some of these flyers handed out. This open house is my idea, so I want lots of people to come by. The whole town, if possible.”

  Odella pursed her lips. “Not sure that’ll happen. Some of them news vans been through town this morning.” Odella pointed to the large plate glass window, then propped her hands in the middle of her back. “Easier to see what’s going on when the streets are clear, but I ain’t complaining about the business. I know for certain my food’s better than the campground diner’s, but I sure can’t compete with the view of Otter Lake.” Odella nodded at someone who raised a coffee cup, but she didn’t h
urry to refill it.

  “Is this an unusual crowd for Monday?” Macy fiddled with the edge of her napkin and wondered why the knot was back in her stomach.

  “Unusually large and even more unusually quiet,” Odella said. When she turned toward the room, more cups went up in the air, but no one said anything.

  “The scuttlebutt was bound to either draw the morbidly curious or keep the high-browed away. Hard to call these things. Folks are pretty done with Ash Kingfisher, though. Ain’t nobody got the patience to deal with that boy’s shady dealings.” Odella reached over to grab a folded newspaper from another table. “Them Kingfishers got a lot to answer for, I guess.” She waved the folded paper. It was the same copy that showed Brett Hendrix and his lipstick smear.

  Seeing it in this moment was less funny than when she’d shown it to Brett at the ranger station. He’d blushed darker than Christina’s lipstick. Odella’s grim face robbed Macy of all the joy she’d inhaled via warm, sweet bread.

  Macy held up one finger as she finished the last of her coffee. It was clear she was about to make a Statement on behalf of “them Kingfishers” and she’d have to stalk out in a huff. However, she didn’t want to miss a drop of the goodness in her cup. When it was finally empty, Macy wiped her mouth, calmly folded up all the trash on the table and shoved it inside the empty cup before offering it to Odella. When she slid out of the booth, she was glad she’d worn the official Reserve uniform. It made her braver, as if it were a superhero’s cape.

  Macy cleared her throat and immediately felt the pressure of the gaze of all the people in the room and the weight of expectation.

  “The Kingfishers have done nothing to harm the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve. You will see that tonight when you turn on the news.” A split second after she said it, Macy hoped the press conference was scheduled soon. The story of her speech would spread quickly enough that the chief ranger might even get a whiff of it soon. “If you’re avoiding the diner or the campgrounds or the lake because of this story, you’re endangering the success of the Reserve. Whether the lodge goes in or not, there are still people working in the diner and the marina, at the campgrounds, rangers on staff, shifts of firefighters and search-and-rescue teams, educators and even kids who run the snack shacks around the lake during the summer. Ash Kingfisher is already giving you all of that, and he’s doing it in a way that you enjoy while he and his team protect the place you love. When you consider how long he’s served Otter Lake, how can you ever believe he has anything but its best interests at heart.” She didn’t look at anyone directly. She could only handle public speaking if she never really noticed the people in the public. “Since your job or the job of someone you love is directly dependent on the tourists brought in by the Reserve, I’d suggest you do your best to support it and Ash Kingfisher, the ranger in charge of the operation of Otter Lake.” She cleared her throat again and wished she’d prepared a script for a situation like this. Instead, she was winging it.