The window was from the Fanelli family summerhouse, and he needed to give it to Bethany.
At five minutes to ten, he put on his sunglasses and crutched to the barn. He was getting faster on his crutches, and the downhill trek didn’t seem like a black diamond ski run today. Wave was leading her giant dun gelding in from the ring, chattering to the horse, who actually kept his massive head near hers as though listening. He was huge, and not what Finn expected the youngest Brunswick daughter to ride. He thought she’d have one of those incredibly expensive petite ponies that vacuumed up ribbons at shows. They made an unusual and beguiling picture, the blond pixie and the equine Sherman tank.
“Hi, Mr. Finn!” Wave waved madly. “This is Bramble. He’s the best horse in the world. He was slow today, but Beth said he’s like a computer and I clicked on the wrong buttons. You should come see me ride! Do you want to feed him a carrot?”
“If you have one. I forgot to bring any.”
Wave led Bramble straight up the aisle and Finn rubbed the gelding’s broad forehead.
“Oops! I wanted to put him in his stall so I can brush him.”
Finn smiled as the girl turned the horse—which was akin to turning a cargo ship—and put him in his stall, where she took off the bridle and put on his halter without pausing in her stream-of-consciousness monologue.
“Wave, honey, let Finn go. He came out to meet Brooke.” It was Amanda, who had come into the barn because she was going to coach Bethany. “Finn, Beth’s in the ring. You can sit at one of the tables in the shade if you want. Would you like a bottle of water? We have some in the tack-room fridge.” She was in front of Bramble’s stall now, and said to Wave, “Do you need help or are you okay?”
Wave said, “I’m okay. It’s all good.”
Amanda smiled, and Finn noted how radiant she looked as she spoke to her daughter.
He turned to lurch to the tack room. “I’ll get it, Amanda.”
“Hold on, Finn.” Amanda turned to her daughter. “Kiddo, would you get Mr. Finn a bottle of water, please?”
“Yeah. He’s pretty slow on accounta his busted leg.”
“I am not slow!” Finn said, acting offended.
“Actually,” Wave said, drawing out the word, “you really are.”
Finn laughed. “Well, you’re short!”
“I’m nine! I’m supposed to be short!” The girl laughed as she scampered off and returned in seconds with a cold bottle of water.
“Thanks, Miss Wave,” Finn said. “You saved me an hour of valuable time.”
She giggled.
Amanda said, “Sweetie, if you need me, I’ll be with Beth. But it had better be important.”
“I know, Mom. Arterial bleeding or fire.”
Amanda laughed. “That’s right.” Then she said to Finn, under her breath, “Not really. But frighteningly close.” Then to Wave, “Don’t forget to clean the inside of the bridle straps really carefully where the sweat marks are. I’m going to check, so no cheating. And unbuckle everything!”
“Okay, Mom. Got it.”
Amanda turned to Finn and squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you’re here.” She gave him a smile. “Let’s go torture Beth, shall we?”
“After you.” He delivered his next words to Wave to make her laugh. “Since it will take me until Tuesday to make it to the ring!”
Wave giggled again, a crystalline sound Finn liked.
What would it be like to have a daughter?
Whoa, where had that come from?
12
Bethany still rode with relentless joy. Before Bethany, Finn never knew anyone who could ride, since few families in his childhood neighborhood in Cincinnati could afford to feed a cat, let alone a horse. But when he started college on an academic scholarship to the University of Cincinnati, he left every summer to work construction or intern at an architecture firm and see other parts of the country. He learned there was a whole other world he knew nothing about. Bethany was part of that world, even though she lived just a few hundred miles north, in Cuyahoga Falls.
She was warming up, trotting and cantering circles and lines at Amanda’s instructions. She laughed as she rode, and Finn felt a prickle of happiness dance in his chest. He liked how the striking pink-and-black shirt she’d designed accentuated her curves. He liked hearing her laugh. More than that, he missed hearing her laugh. And when she was on a horse, her laugh was purer than at any other time.
The sound took him back six years, when they were married and he’d come to the barn where she was teaching in Florida. She’d laugh with her students. They loved her. She loved teaching. She loved coaching at shows. There hadn’t been room for him in her life. Or she didn’t know how to make room. Had he been too demanding? He’d known what her life was like, and he’d married her anyway.
Bethany had started to jump. He was startled out of his trudge down memory lane by her saying, “Hot damn, but that sucked!”
“Get deeper in that corner. Otherwise the fence comes up too fast and she doesn’t have room.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Brooke. How ’bout we try that again?”
Brooke started cantering and Bethany took her to the edge of the ring, so close that Finn heard her boot tap the fence. She headed for the oxer, which was a jump with two rows of poles, to give the fence height and width. It looked to Finn to be about three foot nine. Brooke sped up as she approached the fence, but cleared it nicely. He had seen enough jumping lessons and classes in horse shows to know a good fence when he saw one.
“Much better!” Amanda said. “Keep going. Do the green vertical to the flowers to the in-and-out. Keep your hands up! More leg to keep her on her butt!” Brooke sailed over the green vertical.
“Good. Push her here; she’s fading. And for pity’s sake, relax those elbows!”
Bethany took the other jumps and made it look easy and fun. As Bethany and Brooke cleared the fences, Amanda kept making everything more challenging by making the fences higher and more complicated. They seemed to be working on rollback turns, which Finn liked watching. Brooke was a more elegant horse than De Rien, the horse she’d had when they were dating. That gelding was a spitfire, a quick, compact, happy guy who loved to jump and loved people. Finn had liked him and liked the fact that he was easy to handle on the ground, so Finn could help Bethany at shows. Brooke was bigger overall, but with a decidedly feminine head and a smoother way of going. She was a Cadillac to De Rien’s Porsche. Bethany had sold De Rien to one of her students because the horse wasn’t doing well in the grands prix. Brooke had more power and cleared the big fences easily.
Finn’s throat tightened as a memory surfaced. The first time he saw Bethany ride, he was already plenty infatuated, and watching her fly around a big open jumper course with calculated abandon cemented the deal. He wanted to be a part of that beauty and controlled chaos. He wanted to be with a woman who courted excitement and thrived on pressure. They could be a formidable team, two driven people who went after what they wanted. What’s more, Bethany would make it fun because she could make him laugh. Back then, that was exactly what he thought he needed in a wife, and he prayed that the daughter of Ohio’s hardware store baron would marry a construction worker/architect-wannabe who had never been on a plane and had no idea which fork to use.
After the training session, Finn met Brooke properly as Bethany untacked her in the crossties. Even though the 16.2-hand bay mare snorted in alarm at his crutches, her eyes big as Ping-Pong balls, she readily accepted carrots from him. Bethany said, “Whatcha think of her? Isn’t she great?” She rinsed the mare’s sturdy neck and body.
“Gorgeous. Impressive. Strong. Like her rider.”
Finn saw Amanda smile at this, but he didn’t care. Let her know how he felt about Bethany.
Wave was still in the barn, cleaning her tack.
“She takes forever,” Amanda said. “
But it’s clean.”
Seeing Bethany with a fine sheen of sweat on her flushed face awakened other memories. On more than one occasion, when they’d been alone in a barn, they had made love right after she’d put her horse away. Images flooded his brain and his mouth went dry. Bethany, who was generally happy, was extra-super turbocharged happy after a good ride, and this had been a good ride, coached by her best friend. Finn could see the euphoria in her eyes as she talked about her horse.
Beth showered in her bedroom in the main house—smiling as she again thought of how Jacqueline had tricked her into showering in the cottage—and put on shorts and hiking boots. She didn’t bother to dry her hair, since it looked about the same if she spent twenty minutes going at it with a blow dryer or did nothing. She brushed on some mascara, blush, and sheer gloss that made her lips look dewy. And, yes, she felt kinda tingly, going on what might be a romantic outing with Finn. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Are you falling for him again, Beth?
Her phone rang. She checked the screen, but the number was blocked. She answered.
“Hello, Beth, it’s Jack Cormier. Is this a bad time?”
“No. I have a few minutes.”
He said, “I know this is short notice, but can you meet this afternoon? I can stop by.”
Beth thought about this. What was more important? To go to Maroon Bells with Finn? Or meet with Jack, who was volunteering to help her with her business? She thought of yesterday and the phone call with her father. Going with Finn would be a pleasant afternoon. Meeting with Jack would take her another step closer to a successful future. Finn wouldn’t like it, but he’d have to accept it.
She said, “Yes, I can. What time?”
Jack would come around two. As they were winding down the brief call, he said, “I wondered if I could impose. Would you do me the favor of showing me the barn? I have always loved horses. I rode as a child and never got over it.”
“Not a problem. I’ll do you one better, if you like. How about a trail ride? I’ll wear one of my shirts.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no bother. The horses need the exercise, and it’s a nice day.”
“Well, then, if you say so—I’d love to. Thank you very kindly. I’ll see you at two.”
Beth found Amanda in the master suite and asked which horses should go on the trail ride. Except for the two show jumpers, any of the others—Solstice’s Rainy, Wave’s Bramble, Grady’s Titanium, or the trail horses Smooch and Vern—were trail-broke, even for a beginner.
Now she had to reschedule with Finn. She called him.
He answered the phone with, “I hope you’re hungry. I had Harris make a picnic lunch.”
Ooh. Crap on a cracker. “Hey. Finn, that is so nice of you. I’m sorry about this, but something’s come up. We have to go another day. How about tomorrow?”
Silence. He sighed loudly into the phone. “Sure.”
“Jack’s coming to meet with me.”
“On a Sunday?” She heard the heat in his voice.
“Beggars can’t be choosers. He’s got a business to run during the week.”
“Yeah, okay.” His tone was clipped. “Tomorrow, then. I have a doctor’s appointment, so I’ll get back to you with a time.” He sounded efficient and brusque. Beth’s mood dampened. She felt like she’d been demoted from lover and close friend to business acquaintance in the past thirty seconds.
“And, Finn?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about this. I have to meet with him, though.”
“I know. It’s okay. I’ll see you later.”
Everything old is new again. Finn felt a lump of self-pity in his gut. His fickle mind went back to that day in Florida when Bethany had canceled on him—a meal was involved, then as now—and he’d gone, as she’d put it, “ballistic.” He’d just landed an entry-level position at an architecture firm, which meant he could stop working construction and have just one job. His new boss wanted to take him to drinks and dinner. His boss was bringing his wife and encouraged Finn to bring Bethany. He’d called Bethany as soon as he’d gotten the invitation, a week out, and she’d said she “wouldn’t miss it,” even though it was on a Saturday and she had a show.
Saturday came. Bethany called from the show to apologize, but she couldn’t make it. One of her students could qualify for the Maclays, which he knew was significant. Still. She had promised, and couldn’t someone else help the girl through one class? He reminded her of this, and of how important this was to him. She replied that this girl was sensitive, had never done this before, and Beth didn’t feel comfortable asking someone else to coach her. She told Finn to go to dinner and she’d meet them as soon as she could.
Finn had told her not to bother. He went to dinner. She showed up at the restaurant just as the check came. When they got home, he lost it. They both said ugly things, and after a year of barely seeing his new wife, he wanted out. She did, too. He dug in his heels, she did likewise, and they each waited for the other to blink.
Nobody blinked. Nobody reconsidered or apologized.
And then he made the biggest mistake of his life.
For the first time in a long time, he craved a drink. It was a Sunday afternoon, but he would’ve killed for a scotch. He knew where the well-stocked bars were in the main house and, hell, there might be some in the cabin’s wet bar. He’d have a scotch and feel sorry for himself all afternoon while Bethany went off with Mr. Baseball to make her fortune.
Like. Hell.
Bethany might not link today with the end of their marriage, and he probably shouldn’t either. She was merely having a business meeting. He had to be more flexible. He’d put his laptop in his backpack and carry it up to the house, eat, and work.
He called Harris and canceled the lunch.
“It’s not going to keep.” Harris snapped. “I’m feeding this to somebody, and if you want some, you’d better skedaddle your broken bones up here. Besides, you’ll want to see what the UPS man brought you. On a Sunday, of all things. How much did you pay for shipping?”
“What?”
“You got another delivery, and it’s a wee bit bigger than your sword. No euphemism intended.”
It was a pinball machine. An honest-to-goodness, shiny, blinking, noisy, arcade-worthy pinball machine. Harris had had the delivery guys place the new amusement in an alcove near the stairs, out of the way. Finn, on his crutches, stood staring at it. Grady and Harris stood next to him.
“I didn’t order this,” Finn said.
“You think your identity was stolen?” Grady asked.
“I don’t know. I should cancel my cards.”
“Maybe you have some form of Tourette’s that makes you shop,” Harris said.
Amanda joined them, fresh from a shower. She looked at the pinball machine and said, “Finn? This is yours?”
“Apparently.”
Amanda said to Harris, “You might be right, in a manner of speaking. Not “shopping Tourette’s” exactly, but . . . Remember last summer when I hurt my back and was looped on Percocet?”
Grady smiled. “Fondly.” He turned to Finn, “She accosted me in her own bed. It was fantastic.”
Amanda smiled and rolled her eyes at her husband, then said to Finn, “Maybe something like that happened to you. I’ve heard of people on strong pain medication buying stuff online and not remembering.”
Harris grinned, showing off cavernous dimples. “I’m praying you went loco for Prada—I bet we wear the same size.”
Jack Cormier was on time. Beth had seen his car from her room’s window. She’d also seen Finn come up earlier, so she stayed put because she didn’t feel like dealing with him and his predictably crappy mood. She had to focus on her business.
She opened the door, observing Jack’s white polo shirt, jeans, a
nd beautiful R.M. Williams Australian paddock boots that spawned an acute case of boot lust in her marrow.
Harris, bless his heart, had set out food for them on the big patio table, some of it from the lunch for the canceled picnic.
Finn sat on a patio chair a ways away, working on his laptop, his leg on a small table. Beth didn’t feel like talking to him, but Jack did.
Beth. Stop being a jerk.
The handsome men exchanged greetings: Jack asked how Finn’s leg was; Finn asked how the ad biz was. The small talk got around to occupations, and Jack asked Finn what he did for a living.
“I’m an architect.”
“You don’t say? I’ve always thought that would be a rewarding career, building things. Workin’ on anything you’re excited about?”
“I’m finishing up a house in Branson that was a lot of fun.”
“Huh. I just saw a friend in Branson who’s havin’ a house built. Cyrus Roberts. He’s a country singer. Great guy.”
Finn’s face lit up like an eager jumper galloping to an inviting fence. “You know Cyrus?”
“I surely do. Known him for years. He loves baseball, and he’s a Southerner.”
“That’s my house.”
“No kiddin’! Isn’t that somethin’? The world can be an awfully small place, can’t it? He showed me the house, and the plans, and I loved it. Any chance you’d design something for here?”
“I just got licensed to build in Colorado. That’s why I moved here. Why? You need a house?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m renting right now, but I’d like to build, eventually. Do you have a card? I like what I saw in Branson. Now that I think of it, he mentioned his architect was a rock star, and easy to work with.”
Beth felt a frisson of pride scamper through her. Even though it had to jump over the grumpy part of her that was annoyed with Finn.
“Not on me. But Bethany has your email—I can send you my information.”
“You hear that, Beth? Another lagniappe.”
Jumped Page 17
