Several hours later, Finn was in the cabin, pretending to work. He sat in an armchair next to a window overlooking the barn, leg elevated, as usual. On impulse, he was examining his samurai sword, running his fingertips along the lacquered surface of the scabbard, which he learned from the Internet was called a saya. It really was a cool sword. He could see why he’d bought it, even while he was Internet shopping while on pain medication that would have dropped a bull moose and so didn’t remember a blessed thing.
He set it down, opened his laptop, and looked up his credit cards again. Recent activity was almost nonexistent—thankfully—but there were two hefty purchases he didn’t remember. What the hell, McNabb? What the hell did you buy? He called the credit card company but the billing department was closed on Sunday, so he wrote an email to get the mystery-vendor ball rolling.
He’d been buoyed by the bizarre “lagniappe”—that Cormier was friends with Cyrus Roberts and had seen—and loved—the house he’d designed. Finn had to give Cormier a break, since he was a potential client. He still didn’t like how much the ex-player—Finn thought of him as a player—and Bethany had laughed during their afternoon meeting, but it bothered him less.
What bothered him now were the leaden skies, because Bethany and Cormier were still out riding. A crack of thunder made him startle, then wince as pain shot up his leg. In an instant, rain gushed from the clouds and roared on the cabin’s roof. The sharp scent of wet earth breezed through the open window.
He would’ve loved the sound and smell if Bethany had been with him, preferably in bed. But all he could think of was her out in the open, on a horse, in the mountains. He’d remembered from that summer in Steamboat that lightning strikes were common this high up, and he feared she’d be a victim.
Then he envisioned something worse. She and Cormier would gallop through the storm and take shelter in an abandoned barn. They’re chilled from the sudden downpour. Bethany’s self-designed shirt is transparent and clinging to her wonderful curves. Cormier takes full advantage. And Bethany likes it.
Stop this, McNabb. Stop being a caveman. You have no claim on her.
For the next five minutes he stared at the opening in the trees where the trail started. The deluge calmed to a steady shower and his fears ebbed. He realized he’d been clenching his fists so tightly, his nails had made little parenthetical indents on his palms.
As his breathing slowed to normal, he felt ridiculous. “God,” he said. “Get a grip!” He was turning away from the window when he heard them—laughing, of course. He saw Bethany on Smooch, and Cormier astride Titanium—the striking ebony Friesian—and looking as though he’d been born there. They were wet, but walking, not galloping.
“Well, McNabb. She’s safe. She’s with him, but she’s safe.”
They marched to the barn, dismounted, and took the horses inside. He thought about going to meet them—and grabbing Bethany and kissing the life out of her in front of Cormier—but dismissed it as one of the dumbest ideas he’d ever had. Why not just pull ’em out and compare? He forced himself to leave the window and move to the kitchen table. Where he couldn’t see the barn.
He’d intended to work on the Mitchell Frederick RFP. Instead, he found himself writing a letter. To Bethany. All he’d done lately was thank her for helping him with his broken leg, had sex with her, and, oh yeah, asked her for a favor for this project. It felt like she would slip out of his life again if he didn’t take some action that didn’t involve an orgasm.
After the soggy, chilly trail ride, Beth showered to warm up. Jack had refused a shower but agreed to wear Grady’s sweats while his clothes dried. “Just like the old days at Leland Stanford Junior University,” he’d said of the worn Stanford sweatshirt.
While he waited, Beth made hot chocolate for him, along with Grady, Amanda, and the girls. Harris had gone to see a friend in Glenwood Springs. The Brunswicks and company sat in the kitchen, arranged on stools around the large center island.
“You know who you should have been riding today?” Solstice asked Beth. The girl’s brown eyes gleamed as she leaned on the counter, her dark hair framing her pretty, slender face. She looked more adult by the day.
“Who?” Beth waited for the punch line.
“Rainy!” said the girl, and laughed, as did her sister.
Beth groaned. “Just for that, your next lesson will be all posting trot, no stirrups.”
“Hear, hear!” Amanda said. “Did you have a good meeting?”
Beth and Jack glanced at each other. “Definitely,” Beth said.
“I don’t know the first thing about riding clothes,” Jack said, “but you and Beth do, and based on you two experts, I have utmost faith in the product.” He turned to Beth and touched her arm. “Do you mind if I tell them about what we discussed?”
“Go ahead.”
“As I was sayin’, I don’t know a stock pin from a stock market, but lucky for Beth, I know plenty of smart, connected people. If I’m right—and I think I am—Beth doesn’t need marketing and advertising help. She needs to sell her line to one of the big boys. She needs big sales if she wants to make a splash. There’s nothin’ wrong with a boutique environment, but if she wants that horse rescue to see the light of day, she needs mass distribution. Like my daddy says, if you want to catch more crawfish, use a bigger net. I’ll send out some feelers tomorrow. We’ll see what turns up.”
Beth couldn’t believe Jack was talking about her, using terms like “mass distribution.” “It’s all preliminary,” she said. “But it’s something.”
“I have some sponsors. Would it help to talk to them?” Amanda asked.
“Maybe,” Jack said. “Always preferable to have a personal connection. I’ll be in touch if necessary.”
Amanda said to Beth, “Did you know Vern was a rescue? I bought him from the woman who bought him at a last-chance auction.”
“Vern?” Solstice’s eyes were enormous with alarm. “Vern was almost killed?”
“Yes, sweetie,” Amanda said. “But we have him now, and he’ll always have a good home.”
“I didn’t know about Vern,” Beth said. “It just goes to show how perfectly good horses can end up in terrible straits.”
“Mom, you should train rescue horses to be in the Olympics,” Wave said.
“Stranger things have happened,” said Amanda.
“And think of the PR,” Jack said.
Beth added, “I know I can’t save all of them, but I can save some . . .”
Amanda’s eyes got glassy. “I know. You will.” Amanda took Beth’s hand and squeezed it.
“D’ya see this, Grady?” Beth wanted to lighten the mood. “She never used to cry before she met you.”
Grady shrugged, put his arm around his wife, and looked at her, affection radiating from his famous blue eyes. “It’s what I do to women.” He looked at Beth. “Except usually I get paid for it, and they’re watching me in a movie.”
That evening after dinner, Beth and Mingo looked in on Finn, who had opted for a can of soup in the cottage over pizza at the house. She found him on the sofa, typing away.
“Do you want to come up? We’re going to watch National Velvet in the movie room.”
Finn chuckled. “Grady, too?”
“That’s the rumor. Last summer Solstice sprained her ankle pretending to ride in the Grand National. See? You’re not the only one with an Aspen Creek leg injury.”
“That sounds a little too girly for a studly, manly man-stud like myself,” Finn said, stretching for effect. “I think I’ll stay here and admire my sword.”
Beth laughed. “You’ve been doing that all day, haven’t you?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Good. Finn was in a good mood. She smiled. “I’ll probably sleep up there tonight.”
“Okay.” He sounded cautious
. “How’d your meeting and trail ride go?”
“Good. Really good. He thinks I should try to sell my line to a distributor.” If Finn was jealous, he hid it well. “I’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow. Then we can go to Maroon Bells?”
“Yeah. That’d be great.”
“Do you want me to help you get ready for bed?”
“No, I’m pretty good at it now. You have fun with the girls. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy,” he said, indicating his computer. “And Bethany?”
“Yes?”
“If you want to see Cormier, you should. Not that you need my permission, but I was being an ass about it and I’m done.”
“All right.” She didn’t know what else to say to that, so she left. She was a bit disappointed he hadn’t flung his crutches down, hobbled to her, thrown himself at her feet, and begged her to stay.
The following morning while Finn saw the doctor, Beth’s father called. She let it go to voice mail, then listened as soon as he’d ended the call.
“Beth, it’s your father,” Tony Fanelli said. “How’s my girl today? I told Mitch about your friend the architect and he’ll send to you by email a list of his preferences for his house. This by no means is an indication that he will give your friend the job. He said he’d help your friend, but in the end, if the guy’s no good, he’s no good. Take care. Get a job. Bye.”
Beth listened to the message and sighed. It was so like her father to end on a down note. She suspected Uncle Mitch had said nothing of the kind, but Dad had to throw it in. Captain Buzzkill.
The Maroon Bells weren’t bells at all, but fourteeners—mountains at least fourteen thousand feet high—in the Elk Mountain range. The twin pyramids of Maroon Peak and North Maroon Peak held court a dozen miles outside Aspen. They were the supermodels of the Rockies, the most photographed mountains in North America, but Beth had never seen them in person.
Beth, Finn, and Mingo hiked the short distance from the parking lot to Maroon Lake. Walking was easier for Finn now, because the doctor had replaced the cast with a lighter, more streamlined brace. Finn found a smooth log to sit on that faced the stunning view.
“Damn,” Beth said. “They’re just . . . beautiful. With the lake and everything, and the reflection? The snow in those stripes? It’s so pretty, it looks fake, like those paintings in Chinese restaurants.”
“Hungry?” Finn asked. Mingo, looking hopeful, was lying next to the thermal bag that contained lunch.
“Always.”
“Harris threatened me with bodily harm if I canceled again. So here it is.” Finn then made a production of handing her: 1. a cornflower-blue linen napkin; 2. a plastic plate that looked like china; 3. a BLT made with applewood smoked bacon, arugula, heirloom tomatoes, and pesto mayonnaise on sourdough—Beth’s favorite sandwich—gourmet-ed up and wrapped in butcher paper sealed with red wax; 4. a pickle; 5. a bunch of fat, firm red grapes; and 6. a can of Diet Coke. It was perfect. Finn took his sandwich out of the cooler and unwrapped it. His didn’t have sealing wax.
Beth giggled. “Oh, wow, this is unbelievable. Thank you, Finn. Thank you, Harris! Should we text him a selfie?”
They looked at each other and simultaneously said, “Nah.”
Gorgeous food, mountains, man, and an adorable dog—it was an exceptional afternoon. She plopped the last grape into her mouth and pressed the napkin to her lips. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Scents of pine, fresh water, and earth suffused the air. “Mm, it even smells beautiful here.” She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. Not at the mountains or the lake, not the aspens, not the adorable dog at his feet. Her. She shook her head quizzically.
“You fit here,” Finn said. He was staring at her. “You are so beautiful, Bethany.”
“Thank you,” she said. This was kind of weird. Why was he telling her this?
He covered her knee with his big, capable palm and squeezed. Adrenaline zipped through her. He reached behind him and presented her with a plain white envelope. She tilted her head, eyes narrowed.
Finn, her occasionally arrogant ex-husband, looked sheepish. He gazed beyond her at the lake as he said, “I, uh, wrote you a letter. I wanted to tell you some things, and I needed to get the words right. I hope you don’t mind.” Now he met her eyes.
“Okaaay,” Beth said. She opened it, removed the printed page, glanced at Finn.
And began to read.
13
Dear Bethany,
I’m writing this because I need to tell you how I feel and I’m afraid I’ll botch it if I don’t write it down. Here it all is, on paper, in black and white. I don’t care what you think of me after reading this because I want you to know what’s in my heart.
I love you. I told you this when we kayaked, but I am repeating it here. I have loved you since the summer we met (even though your father wanted to kill me).
Beth grinned at that.
You have been extraordinary, taking care of me, and I thank you. Everyone has been great, but I wouldn’t feel as good as I do now if it were not for you.
Spending this time with you has meant more to me than I can say. I have missed you. I am going to pour my heart out here, Bethany. I want to be with you. Our divorce was a mistake. I was too rash and made a bad decision. I take a good amount of responsibility, but we both could have been more patient. We were stubborn and unyielding and this was partially because we were immature. I should have been more understanding of your career. I should have been more sensitive to what you wanted. At the time, I needed to live up to your expectations of what a husband should be, and it was important to me to make a good living for you because you were used to having money. The hitch was, with two jobs, I was never home. I understand why you didn’t want to come home to our empty apartment. I understand why you threw yourself into your career. God knows I was doing the same, for different reasons.
When I think of my future, I see you in it. You are an extraordinary woman, the most remarkable woman I have ever known. I want another chance with you, if you will have me. Take some time to think about it. Let me know your decision when you arrive at it.
You have my heart. As always.
Finn
Beth finished reading and stared at the paper. Sunlight glared off of the white, making her squint. She hadn’t thought to put her sunglasses on, partially because she liked being able to see the blue of Finn’s eyes. Gone was the tranquility of the setting. Her heart was rattling her ribs. Her fingertips were a little numb. She inhaled, then exhaled. Not only does Finn love me, he wants to try again.
When the ringing in her ears had subsided, she said, “Finn. This is beautiful. I don’t know what to say. I mean that; it’s not a figure of speech, I really don’t know what to say.”
Finn nodded slowly, almost mechanically.
Beth pressed her lips together as though she had just reapplied lipstick, then continued. “I don’t know what I want. I can tell you that I’ve loved being with you, and I don’t just mean the sex,” she said, with a nervous laugh. “It’s like when it was good between us. It’s been like that. But is it because there’s no pressure? Is it because we’re in this idyllic setting but we know it’s not permanent, and we’ll never have to deal with the mundane parts of being together long term? Paying bills, doing chores? Scheduling sex?”
Finn said, “I was never tired of you.”
She smiled and felt it tremble on her lips. “I wasn’t tired of you, either. That’s one thing we can say. We were never boring. But we were only married a year.”
His eyebrows went up and he nodded. “True.”
“By the way, I agree with you about us being too quick to split up. We didn’t even go to marriage counseling. I don’t know if we would’ve worked out, or if we will work out if we try again. But I think we were under so much pressure and we made decisions that weren’t well thought out. I married you as quickl
y as I did in part to rebel against my dad because he didn’t like you. Yes, I resented that you were working so much, but I realize now that you only did it to make money because you’d see the horses I was getting for clients on buying trips to Europe. I know you felt pressure to do the same for me. But I never held that against you. And I was unfair to you. I put my students before my marriage too many times. I was angry when you forced me to choose between helping that girl and going to dinner. I thought you were a bastard for doing that. But now I understand that, for you, it was the last straw. I had pushed you. You were alone most weekends while I was at horse shows. I didn’t think it was a problem, and I honestly always thought I’d slow down. But I didn’t. I kept putting it off. And I kept putting you off.”
She paused and looked to the Maroon Bells for courage to continue.
“In retrospect I realize I never took your requests seriously because . . . because I thought my job was more important because I worked with kids.”
She’d never admitted this even to herself.
Finn’s eyes widened. It wasn’t much, but she saw it. She had surprised him with this shameful insight as much as she’d surprised herself.
She sighed. “Wow. I buried that one. But it’s true. I know I wasn’t a psychiatrist for abused children or a pediatric cardiologist, but I thought it was more important than your work or going to pick out furniture with you or having dinner with your new boss.”
His lips parted as he took this in. His eyes were not so full of love as he said, “My job—my jobs—didn’t matter because I didn’t work with kids? The jobs I was working to make a better life for us?” He blew out a breath, then looked through her for a full two seconds. “Pardon my French, but that’s fucked up.”
She nodded numbly. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. I resented you asking for my time. That’s the real reason.” Beth trembled as she forced herself to look at him. “God, Finn, this is so ugly.” Tears prickled at her eyes and her nose felt hot. How could I have thought this? I’m a terrible person. She covered her mouth with her hand and sobbed as the tears flowed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was an awful thing to think, and I didn’t realize it then, or I didn’t believe I could think something so awful.”
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