by Stacy Finz
“There’s no way in hell I meant for you to find out that way. I planned to tell you everything when you came to France. Oh, baby . . . It’s so complicated. And you’re my best friend—”
“Don’t!” Maddy shouted. “Max was your best friend. And the whole time, you were in love with his wife. My God, Dave. If the aneurysm hadn’t killed him, your betrayal would’ve. He couldn’t have loved you more if you were his own brother.
“And what about Gabby? Is she there with you now?” The thought of the beautiful, graceful, perfect Gabriella wrapped naked in Dave’s arms ripped Maddy’s heart out.
He exhaled and she could hear the sadness in his voice. “I’m by myself, thinking about you and what we have together. Look, I don’t want to do this while I’m overseas. I want us to sit down and talk, so I can explain. Baby, you’re everything to me.”
She whimpered, trying to wipe away tears while holding the phone. “But I’m not her.”
There was a long pause and then a deep sigh. “Can we do this when I get back?”
“Why? So you can avoid having to admit that the only reason you married me was in the desperate hope that I could deliver you from temptation? Did it work, Dave? Did I keep you from sleeping with your best friend’s wife?”
Other than the sound of his breathing, Dave’s muteness told her all she needed to know. “You’ve been sleeping with her all along—even before Max died—haven’t you?” Maddy’s stomach clenched as she squeezed her eyes shut to dam the hot flow of new tears. From the tone of the emails she should have known that Dave and Gabriella had been sharing a physical relationship from the start, but denial was a beautiful thing. “Oh, God.”
“It’s over now, Maddy. I swear. It’s . . . she’s out of my system. I love you so much. All I want to do is make this work.”
He actually expected her to believe that after all these years of pining for Gabriella to the point of obsession, he was over her. Just like that. Even if he were telling the truth, which given his history seemed doubtful, how could she ever get beyond that kind of betrayal? How could she ever trust again?
“Maddy, you’re not going to leave me, are you?” His voice went soft and for the first time she heard true fear.
Her throat tightened and she felt on the verge of hysterics. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”
“I’m on the next plane out, baby. We’ll talk. We’ll work it out.”
“No. Don’t come. I need to be alone.... I need to understand why this happened.” And I’m done with you.
She clicked off and curled up in a ball on her bed, her head swimming with recriminations. But the one that kept floating to the top was the harshest. Nate was right. Somewhere along the way Maddy had sacrificed her entire identity to become Dave’s perfect wife. And the whole seamless tableau had been nothing but an illusion.
Chapter 4
The Ponderosa was hopping, nearly every table full, including the twelve stools at the bar. The best thing Sophie had ever done was hire Tater. Not that his cooking would win them a Michelin star, but the fact that he was a local and dished up comfort food drew in customers. The town was sort of provincial that way, but she and Mariah were getting used to it.
A year ago, Sophie never could’ve imagined running a bowling alley–saloon. Or playing Patsy Cline on an old Seeburg jukebox. All she and Mariah had known at the time was that they wanted to flee the rat race before they turned forty, move to a beautiful place and start a family. Then the Ponderosa came up for sale and they couldn’t resist buying it and going Western-era redux.
Sophie placed her last order and caught sight of Dink Caruthers motioning to her at the entrance to the bowling center. The mayor and his posse, a group of geezers otherwise known as the Nugget Mafia—nothing got done in the town without their stamp of approval—were her Saturday morning regulars. Every week, they ate the same breakfast—chicken-fried steak and eggs with extra gravy—at the same table. Then they bowled—in the same lane.
Sophie headed his way. “Hello, Mr. Mayor. What can I do for you?”
Disgruntled, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his polyester Dickies and let out an exasperated breath. “Lane three isn’t working again. Same trouble as before. The rake isn’t sweeping up the pins. The kid you’ve got in there doesn’t have a clue.”
“Let me see what I can do.” She took off her apron and stowed it in the drink station before entering the alley. Once Sophie got behind the lanes, she fiddled with the hydraulic pinsetter, flipped a few switches to reboot the mechanism, and waited to see if it would reset.
Nothing happened.
“Sorry, guys.” Sophie walked down the wooden lane in her stockinged feet. “Someone from the manufacturer is due out to repair it, but unfortunately Nugget isn’t on their regular route.”
“Isn’t Mariah one of those Silicon Valley engineers?” Owen the barber huffed, offering Sophie his arm so she wouldn’t slip on the oiled floor. Dink might be the mayor, but Owen was the grand poobah of Nugget’s power structure. “Can’t she make it work?”
“She’s a software designer, Owen, not a technician.” She scanned the room to find an empty lane. “I’ll move you guys to ten. That one is working fine and you’ll have that end of the center all to yourselves.”
Earl, proprietor of the Nugget Feed Store, grumbled. The old goat. And Dink whined, “Three’s my lucky lane.”
“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky on ten.” Begrudgingly, they followed her to the other side of the room, lugging their balls with them. Their bowling shoes made squeaking noises on the old gymnasium floor that she’d had Colin Burke, the local carpenter, painstakingly refinish.
“You gearing up for the Halloween festival?” Owen asked her.
“Yep. We’re on drink duty.” At last year’s festival, the townsfolk hadn’t yet warmed to her and Mariah. Ah, who was she kidding? They had just plain ignored them.
“Don’t forget to put one of those posters I brought by in your window,” he said. She promised she would, even though the festival didn’t need any advertising. It was all the town could talk about.
On a nearby bench, she took a seat and slipped her feet back into her clogs.
“So, Soph,” Dink asked. “What do you think of our new interim police chief?”
“I haven’t formally met him yet, although he’s been in the restaurant a few times. But I hear he’s got great credentials.” And, according to her staff, he was a generous tipper.
“He’s a homegrown boy, you know?”
“I thought he’s from Houston,” she said, tamping down the urge to call them on their insularity.
“Nope,” Owen interrupted. “Grew up here. Truth is, we thought the boy was more likely to wind up on the other side of the law, the way that odd father of his let him run around unsupervised.”
“Looks like he turned out okay,” she said. And now, according to town gossip, the “odd” father had Alzheimer’s. Sad.
“We’re gonna give him a chance, see how he does, before making anything permanent,” Dink said, and the rest of the Nugget Mafia nodded their heads in agreement.
From what Sophie had heard, the new chief had no desire to stay, just needed a job until he could find a living situation for his father. “You gentlemen okay now? I’ve got to get back to the restaurant.”
“Yeah,” Dink said. “But get lane three fixed.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, and returned to the dining room, where the morning rush had begun to subside.
Maddy sat in a booth in the back. Sophie waved to her, pressed up to the bar and told Mariah she was taking a break.
“You gonna talk to her?” Mariah whispered.
“I think now’s a good time, don’t you?”
Mariah nodded, reached under the bar, and handed Sophie the thick catalog that had become their required reading. “Want me to come with you?”
“You mind the store,” Sophie said. “It’ll be touchy for her and I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed.”
Sophie found Maddy eating a late breakfast and slid into the seat across from her. “You all moved in?”
“Yep,” she said. “Now I can focus full-time on the Lumber Baron, getting a business association started and turning this place into tourism central. In fact, I have a lead on a local historian who might be able to help me with the Donner Party angle.”
“You’re not letting that one go, are you?” Sophie knew that Nate thought the topic might be a little dark for vacationers.
“Heck no. I’m telling you, we play it up and we’ll put this place on the map.”
Sophie thought Maddy might actually be on to something. The calamity had certainly earned its place in California history. Why not use it to attract tourists? From her days as a marketer, Sophie knew everyone liked a good story.
“Anything new with Dave?”
Maddy wiggled her ring finger. Her marquise-cut diamond was gone and only a pale indentation was left. Sophie imagined that it would take a while for the dent to come back—at least as long as the dent in Maddy’s heart.
“Is this it?” she asked quietly. “You filing?”
Maddy nodded. “Maybe it seems rash. I suppose some would argue that the first tenet of marriage is for better, for worse. But what Dave did . . . it’s a deal breaker, Soph.”
Sophie didn’t think there was anything rash about divorcing Dave. Admittedly, she’d once counted him as a close friend. Now, however, her advice to Maddy would be: Take Dave for every dime he had.
“You getting a lawyer?” she asked.
“I’m sure Nate knows someone good.” Maddy played with the cottage cheese on her plate.
Nate would hook Maddy up with a shark. She’d need one. Dave’s legal team would be top-of-the-line, and given the chance, would skin Maddy alive. “Hang tough, girl.”
“Listen,” Sophie continued. “I know the timing is awful on this, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Soph,” Maddy reprimanded. “You can talk to me about anything, anytime.”
“Okay,” Sophie said, and let out a breath. “We’re finally taking the baby plunge. Business has gotten good. And . . . my God, Maddy . . . waking up every day in this breathtaking place is like paradise. It’s perfect for raising a family.”
Before Maddy could say anything, Sophie held up her hand. “I know how difficult the miscarriages were for you and Dave. I don’t want to do anything that would be insensitive to that. But we desperately need your help.”
Maddy reached across the table and gave Sophie a hug. “How? Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”
Sophie laughed and slid the catalog across the table. “Pick one.”
Maddy examined the cover for a good long time, then slowly leafed through the directory. “Wow, this is like the Hammacher Schlemmer of men. You’re actually planning to find the baby’s daddy in here?”
Sophie saw skepticism written across Maddy’s face. Or maybe it was ick. Honestly, she’d had a similar reaction. How do you choose your baby’s DNA from a catalog? Like garden seeds or a fruit basket. It seemed so sterile, so impersonal, so loveless. Not a way to bring a living being into the world. But going with an anonymous sperm donor had been Mariah’s decree.
“We just think it’s safer legally to go with someone unknown. Fewer complications,” Sophie said, trying to put the best spin on it.
“I can see that,” Maddy flipped back to the cover of the donor catalog. “Is this place reputable?”
“It’s a fully licensed and accredited sperm bank,” Sophie said. “We did a lot of checking around and this one comes highly recommended.”
She leaned across the table and turned the pages marked with multicolored Post-its. “Mariah likes this one, number four six four five. But I’m partial to number six two three nine—he graduated from Columbia with a master’s in journalism. Go through it; see if anyone catches your eye.”
Sophie watched as Maddy carefully read through the men’s profiles. “This guy looks good.” She pointed. “But it says he’s sold out.”
“Yeah, the ones over six feet go really fast. What about Lithuanian Man?” Sophie showed her #6280. “He’s five-eleven.”
Maddy perused his CV and screwed up her face. “I don’t know. His favorite band’s Maroon Five.”
She pushed aside her plate and let out a sigh. “Soph, I’m jinxed when it comes to picking men. Dave’s evidence of that. And this,” Maddy said, slapping her hand on the book, “seems rather impersonal.”
“That’s the whole point.”
“Don’t you want a man you care about in your baby’s life?”
“Too many complications,” Sophie said sadly.
But the truth was she had one man in particular whom she very much wanted to be a part of their baby’s life. Sophie suspected Maddy knew exactly who he was. But even if he offered, which he hadn’t, Mariah had made her position very clear.
No. Nate.
After Sophie went back to work, Rhys came in the door, scanned the room until he found Maddy, and headed to her table. In a pair of Levi’s and a chambray shirt, the man knew how to rock him some denim. His stride, all loose-limbed and confident, reminded Maddy of one of those gunslingers in an old Western. She wasn’t the only one enjoying his entrance. Several ladies had stopped mid-bite to ogle him.
Nugget’s new police chief was definitely a looker. Given her lack of faith in men these days, Maddy found it odd that she could feel even so much as a glimmer of attraction for him. But she convinced herself that admiring a gorgeous man was natural—even healthy. Trusting one? . . . Well, that was another story altogether.
Taking the seat previously occupied by Sophie, Rhys handed her a folded piece of paper. “Virgil Ross’s number. He’ll talk to you.”
Maddy gazed at the note. “How do you know this guy, again?”
“Back when I was a kid, he used to talk to our California civics class. Knows everything about the history of the region. He’s your Donner Party guy for sure.”
“Thank you, Rhys. This is great. You working on a Saturday?” She’d seen his truck parked in front of the police station.
“Yep. Until I get some help, it’s just me.”
“What about your dad? You need me to sit with him?”
“Nah, I handcuffed him to a tree.” Chief Smartass flashed a wicked grin that would’ve made a weaker woman swoon.
“Great!” she joked. “He’s probably setting the forest on fire as we speak.”
“Nope.” Rhys’s lips twitched. “His pyro days are over. I just found a retired nurse to look after him. Betty won’t put up with his crap. Unfortunately, she’s temporary. Her daughter’s about to have a baby in Southern California and she’s planning to go down there for a few months.” He eyed her half-eaten cottage cheese curiously.
“Want the rest?” She pushed her plate toward him.
Rhys wrinkled his nose. “No thanks.”
“Yeah, I’m not a cottage cheese lover, myself.”
“Then why’d you order it?”
“I started my diet today,” she said on a sigh.
“What for?” He looked her up and down, then pointedly fixed on her naked ring finger—ever the observant detective.
“Just want to get into shape.” This morning she could barely button her jeans.
He gave her another once-over. “Nothing wrong with your shape.” Then Rhys muttered, “Just your husband.”
Flabbergasted, she peered at him, and he said, “Thin walls, Maddy.”
“Oh.” She turned away, embarrassed.
“Sorry.” He held up his hands. “I’m overstepping. But this diet thing is bullshit.”
He must’ve overheard everything between her and Dave and thought Maddy had low self-esteem. Terrific! She was now officially pathetic.
Presumably sensing her discomfort, he deftly changed the subject. “What are you and the ladies of the Ponderosa up to? I saw you and Sophie huddled together when I came in.”
Maddy did
n’t know if Sophie and Mariah’s baby news was public record yet. “We were discussing plans for starting a business association.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, okay Maddy?”
“Why not?” she asked defensively.
“Because folks here are resistant to change. They’re bound to look at the three of you as upstarts from the city, trying to turn Nugget into the next Truckee and price them out of the market. These are ranchers and railroad workers—blue-collar people. They hear about fancy hotels and business associations and instead of seeing the benefits it could bring the whole town, they see developers. Down go the trees, in come the tracts with their mini mansions and golf courses.”
“Ha.” The idea made her want to howl with hilarity. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He threw some cash on the table and pulled her out of the booth, steering her toward the door. “Come with me.”
“Rhys, I have stuff to do.” She dragged her feet in the middle of the restaurant.
“This will only take fifteen minutes.” He put his hand at the small of her back to give her a nudge. When it made her start, he quickly dropped his arm.
He led her to his truck and held the passenger door open.
Once they got on the highway, Rhys picked up a little speed, passed the Nugget Feed Store and turned down a road she’d never seen before. They were only a few minutes driving distance from town, but the new spiffy split-rail fence flanking both sides of the street signaled to Maddy that they were worlds away.
When Rhys pulled through a gate emblazoned with the name Sierra Heights in fancy scroll work her suspicions were confirmed. As he whizzed past a security booth, Maddy asked, “Hey, weren’t we supposed to stop and check in or something?” She turned her head to look through the back windshield.
“No one there,” Rhys said.
He drove a little farther and there it was—acres of obscenely large log homes with three-story windows, stacked stone chimneys, decorative gazebos, and four-car garages.
“Oh, my God. It’s like Jackson Hole on steroids,” Maddy said, trying to keep her mouth from hanging open.
