by Carol Devine
"Did I say word one about sex? Besides, as far as homework goes, aren't you the tutor in the family?"
"It's an electronics course. Chuck is considerably more qualified."
"You're looking pretty happy about that."
"He's different, Mariah. Not changed, because he can still be as maddening as ever. But instead of working on his cars every second, he's coaching the girls in soccer. And when it's his weekend for custody, he's taking them to do things they're interested in even if it's girly stuff."
"That's one way for a father to worm his way into a mother's heart."
"It sounds trite but it's true."
"What's important is how he is with you. He better treat you right or he'll be answering to me."
"Nothing big. He likes grilling dinner for the four of us. He cleaned and repaired the gutters at the house, and helped me paint Lucy's bedroom for her fourteenth birthday. That's when it started. It's the worst cliché ever. He got paint on the back of his shirt. I washed it for him. He kissed me and… well, we always had the major hots for each other. But we were married at twenty and kids happened and I don't think we had any idea what we were doing. When I graduated from college with my bachelor's degree, he said he felt like I was leaving him behind, especially when I went to work for Shane."
"Was Chuck jealous?"
"Who wouldn't be? Shane was winning world championships left and right, and hundreds of thousands in prize money. Chuck was an apprentice mechanic. It didn't matter to me but it bothered Chuck, I know it did. Men and their egos. Reassuring him became a full time job and I resented it. I already had two full time jobs, one building the business with Shane and one at home. Chuck wasn't very helpful there either, though to be fair, he was working 60 hours a week at the garage. His ambition was one reason I fell in love with him. But after the girls were born, he didn't seem to have much use for them and it made me mad. Of course, he's telling me he's making sacrifices every day, working like a dog and coming home after work instead of going out with his buddies. For me, the divorce was such a relief. At least we weren't fighting any more. And we always put the girls first, even when we had relationships with other people. We agreed on that much."
"You seem happy."
"Does it show? Maybe it's the afterglow from getting rid of the cheater. With Chuck, I'm determined to take things slow. And we don't want the girls to know, hence the B&B."
"You're right. It may confuse them."
"Yes, like give them false hope we might get back together. Josie even asks me sometimes, why can't Daddy come back and marry you again? It breaks my heart, but not enough to entertain the thought. One thing at a time."
"Has he broached the subject?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if he felt the exact same way. Both of us have made enough mistakes as it is."
They reached Mariah's storefront. She unlocked the door, switched on the lights and made sure everything was as it should be before letting Ana inside.
"Are you expecting a break-in or something?"
"Can't be too careful. When I catch people in the act of taking advantage of my clients, they are generally displeased to have been found out. Besides, I never know when Bird'll come round."
"I don't understand why he gives you such a hard time."
"It's his way of saying, 'Hi, Mariah. I missed you.'"
"It's not funny, Mariah."
"Life's unfair. What else is new?" Mariah dropped her purse and laptop on her desk and went to her little kitchenette. "What kind of coffee do you want? I have dark roast and mild."
"Dark roast, huh? I wonder who that's for."
"Don't start."
"He misses you."
"He misses me like a hole in the head. Did he tell you why we broke up?"
"He won't talk about it."
"Really? I had the impression he talks to you about everything."
"He usually does. That's why I know how badly it's affecting him."
"You might as well know he and I want different things out of life."
"Yeah. Right."
"What do you want me to say? It was fun while it lasted?"
"I care about him, is all. You care about him, too. I can tell."
"Yes, well, I also care about where my next paycheck comes from. You should have told me at your birthday party how rough building my own business was going to be. I might have high-tailed it back to DC faster than a jack rabbit."
"You must be doing okay. That little apartment you're renting is sweet."
The bell on the front door jingled and an older woman came in, dressed in rancher casual. Her hair was wrapped in a bun high on the back of her head and gray at the temples, and her wide hips made her jeans look ready to burst at the seams.
"Oh," she said, coming to an abrupt halt. "You're already busy. I didn't think anybody would be here this early."
"No," said Ana. "I was just leaving. Thanks, Mariah. See you next Friday?"
"Yes, after work." Mariah beckoned the woman forward as Ana headed out. "Please, come in."
As Ana passed, the woman looked away as though afraid to be recognized. Mariah noticed how her face was pale and undamaged by sun or weather, lined more by apprehension than anything else.
She pulled the shades on the window, gestured for the woman to sit down and locked the door.
* * * * *
A month went by before Mariah saw Shane again, standing in line at McNally's General Store. She acknowledged him with a nod and he acknowledged her in the same way, then he went back to trading gibes with Pablo Cabrillo. In that moment it felt like their life together had never happened, too impossible and distant to be believed.
She had to turn her cart around and leave the checkout line, pretend like she had forgotten to put something in her basket. She took refuge in the freezer section, where she could open one of the heavy glass doors, keeping her wet eyes downcast, and feel the sub-zero temperature bathe her burning cheeks.
She learned from Ana that he'd taken to traveling more than he'd done since his pro touring rodeo days. He was criss-crossing the country, building and selling his brand and his equine product lines, performing in reining competitions and holding horsemanship clinics, even some as far away as the apparently horse-crazy country of Australia.
For Mariah, it was a bittersweet realization. They were both building their businesses from the same town but very apart from one another, and if her growing caseload and his continued success were any indication, it was going to stay that way until the day when he found the right someone else, someone who would want to celebrate Thanksgivings and Christmases and Valentine's Days and ridiculous anniversaries, who would want to ride horses and hang out with family and participate in his life in ways she couldn't.
Shane deserved that kind of woman. He deserved someone who battled far less demons than she, a woman who was dedicated to making him happy, rather than the other way around.
CHAPTER TEN
Six months later
Mariah was sitting on a barstool at the wide mahogany bar in the Tavern when Ana entered for their bi-weekly Friday night dinner. Since she came straight from work, Ana was wearing her usual dark blue jeans and freshly ironed western-style blouse. But this evening Mariah looked like a throwback to her Quantico days, DC chic from head to toe, wearing a high collared silk blouse, black pencil skirt and serious heels, with her hair coiled in a braid at the back of her head.
In the rough and tumble atmosphere of the Tavern, frequented by men and women who worked as miners, cowhands, oil and gas roughnecks, and the hardier tourists and hunters, she stuck out like an alien transplant from the wonderful world of Oz, especially in the cavernous bar section, where people were jam-packed for happy hour.
Ana approached, surveying the draped jacket hanging over the empty barstool next to Mariah, one she was apparently saving. "I thought we were having dinner," Ana said, puzzled. "Don't you want to eat at a table?"
Mariah hopped off her stool and gave Ana an especi
ally fond hug. "Don't worry, we are. But first we have some major champagne popping to do. Or shots. Whiskey, vodka, tequila, whatever you like, on me."
The flippancy behind that little speech alarmed Ana. "Uh… What are we celebrating?"
Mariah showed Ana a thick, sealed 9x12 envelope. The return address contained only three lines: DIRECTOR then FBI then WASHINGTON DC. Under Mariah's address, there was an official circular seal, three inches across, embossed in blue and gold foil.
"What's that?"
"It's from the FBI Director, the head honcho who serves at the pleasure of the President of the United States."
Ana frowned. Usually the FBI was best avoided as a subject of conversation. Mariah was stellar at keeping her hurts hidden, whether it involved being thrown under the bus by her former employer or being thrown under the bus by her dad.
"Why haven't you opened it?"
"They sent me an email copy when it hit the national newspapers. Page ten of the Washington Post, twelve in the New York Times. I've been exonerated. During the Senate hearings, my testimony appeared on page one, above the fold, sometimes with my picture. But today I got a three inch column. Ain't life grand?"
Ana noted the empty bar glasses sitting in front of Mariah. "How much have you had to drink?"
"A boiler maker. I always wanted to try one."
Ana tallied the emptied glasses. "Looks like you had two."
"It's Happy Hour. It's why I wanted to be at the bar. I think it's time we ordered a couple of shots. It's what girlfriends do." Mariah snapped her fingers. "Bartender? A couple of your finest tequilas, please."
Ana tugged at Mariah's arm. "Mariah, that's too much. Come and eat dinner with me. I know it's crowded but there has to be an empty table somewhere."
"No, I checked. But I gave my name to the hostess. I'm sure she'll call in a jiffy."
The shots arrived. Raising her glass, Mariah passed one to Ana and dragged the salt and lime plate, positioning it between them.
"Ana, this is where we separate the boys from the men. Or the women from the FBI agents. Bottoms up." Mariah licked the salt, gulped the tequila down and sucked her lime with gusto.
Ana tentatively tasted the salt and sipped her tequila.
Mariah covetously eyed it. "Are you going to drink the rest of that?"
Ana downed it rather than let Mariah get a hold of it. She happily served Ana the lime. Taking it, Ana sucked while keeping an eye on her friend, unnerved by behavior she'd never seen before.
Mariah brightened with a new impulse. "You know what? This is the first time I've tasted whiskey. Can't decide if it tastes better with the beer or not. Need to try one more without the beer to be sure."
Like a pro, Mariah signaled the bartender. As soon as he delivered, Mariah picked up the glass and downed it in two gulps. Some dripped down her chin. Appalled, Ana took charge and used her napkin to wipe the whiskey away. She gathered Mariah's coat, purse and envelope. "We're going to the ladies room."
"I don't need to go to the ladies room."
"You will if you don't stop drinking like a fish. I need to go to the ladies room and ladies like to go together, so you're coming with me."
Mariah struggled with an onslaught of hiccups. "Animal…behaviorists believe…there is some truth...to the notion that...females should stick together. Safety in numbers."
Ana rushed Mariah through the bar area, into the ladies room and pushed her into a stall. "Lock the door."
"I have done this... before."
Ana closed herself in the next stall, got out her phone and texted Shane. Mariah in trouble at Tavern.
Eventually she heard Mariah flush, exit and start washing her hands, humming tunelessly. Ana finished in the stall and arrived at the sink as Mariah was heading for the door. Ana caught her arm. "Wait for me, sweetie. I need to wash my hands, too."
Tapping her foot impatiently, Mariah waited while Ana thoroughly washed her hands, dried them, then opened her purse, withdrawing her comb and lipstick.
"Ana, pleash. You look fine."
"Never know when Prince Charming might come along. Why don't you put some lipstick on?"
"I like to think with… my gal pals, I don't have to try so hard."
"I believe the opposite. Women are more judgmental."
"All this time, you've been… judging me on how much… makeup I'm wearing?"
"In high school, we used to spend hours doing our makeup, remember?"
"That's because we used a whole… tube of mascara in one sitting."
Ana opened her lipstick and started applying it carefully.
Mariah fidgeted. "I wanna get back to the bar."
"First put some lipstick on." Ana handed over the lipstick.
Mariah leaned close to the mirror and lost her balance. "Maybe you should do it." She presented the lipstick, teetering on her heels.
Ana started fussing with Mariah's makeup and hair, trying to waste as much time as possible to give Shane time to arrive. She outlined lips and added eyeliner and unwound Mariah's braid, combing it out to where her hair rippled down her back. When they finally left the restroom, Shane was lounging outside, dressed like he'd come straight from work. He did a double-take when he saw Mariah.
Holy shit.
Ana was all smiles. "Shane! Great to see you."
He tipped his hat. "Hi, Mariah, Ana." Mariah was all smiles, too. And hot. Sexy hot. The 'yes-I'm-super-available-hot.' Men and women alike were turning their heads to check her out.
She yelled over the noisy bar. "You're lucky you came in. You can help ush celebrate."
Shane looked from Mariah to Ana. "What are we celebrating?"
Ana leaned close. "Mariah's return to the FBI."
"What?" He checked with Mariah, who nodded yes in exaggerated fashion.
"It's a special invitation."
"Mariah's been exonerated," Ana said.
"I have an official letter and everything. Ana, show him." Mariah snapped her fingers inexpertly at the nearest waiter. "We need another round of shots. Shane wants to celebrate, too."
Ana shook her head at the waiter and cut her hand across her throat. "No more shots, Mariah. You've already had four."
Shane couldn't believe it. "Four?"
Ana addressed him, speaking low. "Two in boiler makers."
Shane looked grim. "What time did she start?"
Ana checked her watch. "Maybe an hour or so ago. I've been here thirty minutes. And she hasn't eaten anything except peanuts."
Mariah played with the ends of her hair. "You and Ana are talking like I'm not here," she pouted.
Shane put a friendly arm around her shoulders. "Guess what, Mariah. I'm hungry. We're going to get some dinner while we're here."
Ana side-whispered. "I can only stay another hour before my babysitter has to leave. Megan is sleeping over at a friend's house tonight and Josie is too young to be on her own."
Shane nodded, aware he was in for a long night if he and Ana couldn't get Mariah to eat and go home. He could handle seeing her in small doses in social situations. But when she was totally blotto? He breathed deep. "Okay, Ana. I've got this. Leave whenever you need to."
"Thanks," she said. "Let me check on the table."
Ana dashed to the hostess while Shane watched Mariah. She was busy waving at people. He kept her nearer to the restaurant than the bar, sending dirty looks to the bar flies who were toasting her with their beers.
She tried to shake him off. When that didn't work, she stuck the FBI envelope in her purse, but kept missing the target.
Shane helped her. Fascinated by the look of his plaid sleeve, she played with the snap buttons on his shirt. Shane captured her hand and held it still.
"Actually, there's a problem at the stables Ana and I were discussing. Maybe you can help us with it, Mariah."
Ana sprinted back. "They can seat us now."
The hostess led them to the table for four. Ana went first with Shane in the rear, herding the weaving Mariah to the
table and then formally seating her in the chair.
"Thank you, Shane," Mariah said loudly.
Ana sat and moved Mariah's water glass, centering it in front of her. Shane took the seat opposite. Mariah leaned towards him accusingly.
"How come you didn't help Ana sit in her chair?"
Ana pushed the water glass towards Mariah. "Drink some water, honey."
"But I want a real drink." She waved her hands. "Waitress? Waiter? Need a shot of whiskey here."
Aiming to distract her, Shane lowered her hands. "Mariah, the problem at the stables has to do with security."
Mariah straightened, instantly alert. "My... specialty. Shoot."
Racking his brain, Shane worked to keep her interest with something plausible. "Most of my horses are valuable. Very valuable. Extremely healthy. Excellent dispositions. Highly trained by yours truly. That means something among the horse buying public. Means the price I get for them can be very high."
Mariah creased her brow in serious inquiry. "Are they insured?"
"Yes, that part is covered. But listen, it's like this. There are some really rich people who collect premium horses like candy. Most of them focus on Thoroughbred racing, but Quarter Horse racing is gaining in popularity. It's one of the breeds I specialize in."
Mariah slumped. "I don't see how I can help with horse shit."
Shane bit the inside of his cheek to stay perfectly serious. He'd never seen her like this. "But you can help. I'm certain you can." He gestured expansively, drawing her in. "Since I don't know as much about security as you do, I'm trying to give you the big picture."
Ana chimed in. "Yes, Mariah. The big picture. Me and Shane can talk for hours and still leave out details of our operation. For example..."
Forty five minutes later, Ana and Shane were still tag-teaming on the many possible security risks endemic to the business of breeding, raising, purchasing, selling, showing and teaching people about horses. Meanwhile, they managed to convince Mariah to eat a hamburger, although she adamantly refused unless she had a beer to go with it. Shane drank most of the beer, sneaking gulps when she wasn't looking.
Ana laid a twenty dollar bill on the table. "Sorry, you two. I have to run. Mariah, I'll stop by tomorrow, see how you are."
