“No. Funny thing. They all made reservations, then had to cancel at the last minute, but Edward decided to come anyway.”
“I’m guessing he’s single, then,” Brynn offered.
“Widowed. Ten years now.”
“Oh.” That was hardly a statement she could whoop over, even though it meant he was available. And apparently interested in Miranda.
“He’s nice,” Miranda said simply.
“There’s a lot to be said for nice,” Brynn offered, hoping this meant a romance was in the air.
Miranda shook her head. “Don’t make more of this than it is. He’s simply a guest. Perhaps a lonely one, but still just a guest. He needs someone to talk to. That’s usually what people seem to miss the most when they’re alone.”
Brynn guessed Miranda was an expert on the subject, but suspected she should navigate this field carefully. “Where’s he from?”
“California. At least, that’s where he lives now. But he isn’t too happy living there. Things have changed a lot in the last decade.”
“Is he thinking about joining the exodus from California?”
Miranda ran her fingers across the rim of her mug. “He didn’t say.”
Brynn wondered what he had said. “What sort of business is he in?”
“He’s retired now, but he owned a public-relations firm. He said he got a buyout offer too lucrative to refuse, so he sold. But I have the feeling he misses it.”
“He’s quite handsome,” Brynn commented, searching for the other woman’s reaction.
“I suppose so.” Miranda glanced up and saw the disbelieving look on Brynn’s face. “Okay, yes, I noticed he’s handsome. But as I said, he’s simply a guest. I enjoyed talking to him.” Her fingers drew a circle on the linen tablecloth. “Very much. But that’s all there is to it. You’re young and you see romance and stars everywhere.” A flicker of sadness touched her expression. “But I learned the hard way that’s not true.”
“He’s not Neil,” Brynn said gently.
Surprise etched itself in Miranda’s eyes and upraised brows. “How did you know about Neil?”
Embarrassed, Brynn met her eyes. “The trunk you sent to my room. There was a journal in it.” Miranda’s eyes widened further. “I didn’t read it,” Brynn rushed to assure her. “Not that I wasn’t tempted, but when I started to put it back, a picture fell out.”
“Neil,” Miranda confirmed.
Brynn nodded.
“Nonetheless, I’m no starstruck girl,” Miranda insisted.
“Perhaps that’s better. You’re wiser now.”
“I notice you didn’t say older,” Miranda retorted with a trace of her normal humor.
“That’s relative. If you and someone you meet—perhaps even Edward—share common interests and concerns, don’t you think you’ll recognize that better now?”
“Possibly,” Miranda admitted in a grudging tone.
Brynn thought of her own daydreams about Gregory, fantasies that no longer seemed real. Dreams that were increasingly difficult to get in touch with. Dreams that had carried her through lonely times, empty times, bringing her life a dimension it lacked. Dreams that had brought her to create a wedding album and inherit a ready-made family. Dreams that were being replaced with a flesh-and-blood man. A solid man who personified the land he loved. A man who made her laugh. A man who made her want. A man very unlike the one she’d pined for, had thought she wanted.
“Brynn. Brynn,” Miranda repeated, covering her hand. “I think Scotty may already have beamed you up.”
Brynn flushed. “I tend to get lost in my daydreams.”
“Sometimes they’re a nice place to go.”
“And sometimes it’s nice to have company,” Brynn replied gently. “If you seize the moment.”
“Are you suggesting I have a vacation interlude?” Miranda asked, amusement sparkling in her eyes.
“Not exactly,” Brynn hedged. “Just because he’s a guest doesn’t mean it has to end when his visit does.”
Miranda’s lips tightened. “In my experience, that’s the way it works.”
Brynn wondered if she could be referring to Neil. Had his family been one of several that Frank had told her about? Families that used to stay entire summers at Eagle Point? And had Neil failed to return for the Harvest Ball? A poignant, sad image rose in Brynn’s mind. If so, no wonder Miranda was so afraid to trust.
“Have I lost you to the extraterrestrial regions again?” Miranda questioned, a smile in her eyes.
“Afraid so. I’m really quite hopeless about my daydreams.” Brynn fought for courage. She wasn’t accustomed to giving anyone advice. “Miranda, have you thought about getting to know Edward? Enjoying the time he does have here? Leaving the door open to other possibilities?”
“Aha! You are suggesting an interlude!” While Brynn tried to protest, Miranda waved her explanations aside. “Don’ worry. I’d been entertaining the idea myself. He’ll be here for a week. And knowing that going in, I’ll be prepared.”
Brynn stared helplessly at the older woman who deserved so much more. But could she argue? Based on what? Her vas experience with men? Less than half-a-dozen words into tha argument would show her own woeful ignorance.
Miranda pushed her chair back. “As they say, time’s a wasting. Don’t worry, I’m going into this with my eyes open You said it yourself. I’m wiser now.”
Brynn watched her leave with mixed feelings. While she wanted Miranda to explore this possibility, she also didn’t wan her to get hurt. Because although Miranda was wiser, she was also vulnerable. And this time she might not recover.
BRYNN GLANCED AROUND at the riot of noise, confusion, and the unmistakable air of a party. Octoberfest was in full swing Self-consciously, she fingered the full skirt, equally aware o the low neckline of her peasant blouse. Everyone else won their costumes easily, but Brynn couldn’t shed her innate lad of confidence that casually.
Still, she loved the excitement. Townspeople had arrived be fore dawn, filling the stalls they’d already set up with all kind of food, desserts and crafts. And of course the beer tasting arena was a focal point of the festival.
Grilled German bratwurst, knockwurst, and weisswurs tinged the air, making her mouth water. Having seen sauer kraut, hot potato salad, and knödel, Brynn knew she would burst trying them all.
And she’d been eyeing the dessert stalls with equal interest Richly spiced pfeffernusse cookies, strudel made of the flakies layers of dough, and a multitude of other pastries begged to be tasted.
A Swiss band played, and children ran among the many games, shrieking and carefree in the lofty alpine meadow. The MacKenzies were determined to keep the celebration festive even though they still didn’t have any definite news about Gregory. His briefcase had turned up at the local police station near the point of his capture, and the family was determined to see that as a good sign.
Strolling among the festival crowd, Brynn spotted Miranda and Edward West, her gentleman friend. Both were laughing, relaxed, and clearly having fun. As she watched, Edward placed a casual arm around Miranda’s waist. Brynn held her breath, but Miranda accepted the gesture, turning to him with a smile. Silently Brynn cheered them on, hoping Miranda could find a bit of happiness.
Although tempted to track her friend’s movements, Brynn caved in to her better sense and walked the other way, weaving among the stalls, stopping to admire handmade lace tablecloths and exquisite porcelain dolls. Then her attention was caught by a display of cuckoo clocks. Delighted by the variety of the charming timepieces, she examined several before reluctantly moving on.
As she turned from the booth, she spotted Matt. True to Miranda’s predictions he was dressed in traditional lederhosen. Strong, tanned, muscular legs filled the leather suspender-held shorts. Brynn’s mouth dried at the sight—especially since he was in charge of the old-fashioned game where contestants used a sledgehammer to slam down a marker, sending it speeding upward to ring the bell and measure the inte
nsity of the swing.
His sleeves were rolled up, his muscles rippling as he demonstrated the sport, encouraging others to join in. Feasting on the sight, Brynn was content to watch, absorb, and appreciate.
Laughing with one of his neighbors, he turned toward her. Pretending interest in the exhibit of hand-carved pipes, she tried to look as though she hadn’t been watching him. When Brynn met his gaze, she waved casually, or at least she hoped she did.
Stealing a glance at him, she saw him turn over the game to one of the lodge employees. A few moments later, he was at her side.
“Nice pipes,” he commented. “Thinking of taking up smoking?”
Brynn tried to think of a sensible answer—any answer—and failed. “They’re very interesting.”
“Uh-huh. Have you ridden the tram yet?”
“No. I didn’t realize that was part of the Octoberfest.”
“Last chance before ski season,” he replied. “You game?”
Having told him she’d fearlessly ridden in a hot-air balloon, she could hardly confess that the tram made her nervous. Instead she steadied her smile. “Sure. Why not?”
“Let’s grab something to take along and we can eat at the top.”
Her stomach roiled, but she kept her smile in place. “Okay.”
Together they picked out a wurst fest of sausages, cheeses, hard rolls and some wicked-looking desserts. One of his employees discreetly stowed their choices in a wicker basket.
As Matt tugged her toward the stalls of local brewers, Brynn tried to ignore the ripple of reaction his touch created. In moments, she was surrounded by a mountain of confusing choices. The vendor’s discussion on hops, malts, and grains blurred and Brynn didn’t know what to pick.
“Try more than one,” Matt encouraged, pointing out the small tasting cups. “They have the beer on tap.”
Gamely, she accepted the first glass, sipping through the huge head on the small tumbler. When she took the cup away, she saw a growing smile on Matt’s face.
Reaching close, he wiped away the foamy white mustache decorating her upper lip.
As she swallowed the knot in her throat, Brynn tried to remember to smile, despite the play of long, strong fingers that stroked her upper lip, inciting a riot of other suggestions. When neither of them moved, Brynn blinked, then tried to think of something casual and witty to say.
Instead her words emerged as a croak. “I think I’ve tried enough.”
“You have?”
“Uh...yes.” She struggled to answer, his touch rendering her brain inoperable. “I’ll take the first one.”
“Of what?” he asked, his hands still dangerously close to her mouth.
“What what?” she questioned, her mind refusing to cooperate.
“The beer,” the vendor bellowed. “Did you like it, miss?”
She jerked backward as though stung. “Yes. Very much. Could I have that kind, please?”
While the vendor retrieved a bottle from the icy barrel, Matt plucked a second bottle from the display, adding it to their basket.
In quiet accord, they got in line for the tram. Heart thudding, Brynn tried to act as though being touched by an exciting man was an everyday occurrence—even though that man was the brother of her supposed husband. The complications of it made her head throb.
Then they were on the tram, the alpine terrain dropping away beneath them. As the view unfolded, Brynn sucked in her breath. Although she’d seen the area, she hadn’t viewed it from this vantage point.
“It’s magnificent,” she breathed, forgetting her nervousness.
Matt’s eyes weren’t on the breathtaking expanse of mountains. “Yes, it is.”
Her heart thudded dangerously in its caged barrier. For an insane moment, Brynn wanted to confess everything, to plead for his understanding. But then her very surroundings struck her. He believed in permanence, family, the honest tradition of the land. Brynn could imagine his face if she told him the truth.
Feet dangling in the open air, Brynn opted to enjoy the ride, the company...and the interlude. Miranda was right. They wouldn’t last forever.
Chapter Twelve
Matt studied the contractor’s proposal, loan information from three banks, prospectus folders from potential investors, and his accounting firm’s cost projections. No matter which way he sliced it, there would be no expansion without heavily mortgaging Eagle Point.
Suppose he did and revenues fell, or his father needed additional expensive surgery? At one point the possibility of a heart transplant had been discussed. Since their insurance carrier still termed the operation experimental, should Frank need a transplant, it would be costly. And ready cash had to be available.
It was a crushing decision, one that could buoy Eagle Point permanently, or send it into a downward spiral they might never recover from.
And in the midst of the papers he studied was a brief fax—one that outlined the latest round of discussions regarding Gregory’s release. Between all the double-talk and posturing was the barest scrap of truth. They knew no more now than a month ago. Matt had really believed he had made progress on this last trip to Washington. Apparently, it had been a pretense intended to mollify the family. However, Matt was feeling anything but mollified these days.
Matt had already made nearly a dozen calls that morning, hoping to uncover more information. And each call had been a dead end. His college friend in the State Department had squeezed every possibility, cashed in every favor, and sidestepped regulations to cull each new piece of information. And still nothing.
In his gut, Matt believed that Gregory would be all right. But logic told him the longer his brother was held, the slimmer his chances were.
Glancing out the huge picture window that dominated his office, Matt remembered earlier times—days when he and Gregory had shared every path; walking side by side through school, sharing childhood hopes, dreams and fears.
Only thirteen months apart, he and Gregory had been like twins, each knowing the other’s thoughts. And the sixth sense and intuition of their formative years was still strong. Strong enough that Matt believed he would know instantly if something had happened to Gregory. Something that would keep him from returning...permanently.
But that sixth sense hadn’t kicked in. At least not negatively. But as time had passed, Matt wondered if his intuitive connection to Gregory had faded.
As adults, they no longer shared a single vision. Even when they were teenagers that vision had splintered, sending them in different directions. Gregory had been driven toward an Ivy League education rather than a state university as Matt had chosen.
After college Gregory hadn’t come home, instead parlaying his Harvard degree and the contacts he’d made there into an astounding corporate springboard. Matt knew Gregory hadn’t chosen to live in Salt Lake in order to remain close to the family. Rather, through astute networking, he’d landed a plum job at one of the richest, fastest-growing firms in the country. The fact that their western office was located in Salt Lake had been a coincidence. Gregory would have preferred living in New York City, but as long as his career continued to climb, he would have moved anywhere. Rooted in the land, Matt couldn’t understand his brother’s disdain and it had pushed them in opposite directions.
Had those directions been so far apart that he and Gregory were no longer closely linked? No longer sharing an intuitive spirit?
Matt didn’t want to think so. He hated to even acknowledge the possibility. But there it was. Glaring at him. Mocking him. Questioning him.
What was he doing coveting his brother’s wife? Feeling like the bad half of Cain and Abel, Matt finally understood one of the things that drove wedges into families. It was something he’d despised and had assumed would never happen to the MacKenzies.
Even if he said and did nothing, allowing Gregory and Brynn to continue on without any detours, the wedge would be there. Growing deeper and wider. He knew he couldn’t watch the two of them without wishing Brynn was his
.
Voices rose in the corridor. With ski season approaching, the entire staff was in full gear as preparations got under way. Even from the insulated privacy of his office he could hear the increased hustle.
Yet he was restless.
It was one thing to study documents and papers from the insular security of his office. It was another to make the decision while standing on the very land he risked.
Grabbing his keys from the desk, Matt unhooked his leather jacket from the coat-tree and headed outside. He easily spotted his truck in the parking lot and headed in that direction. As he neared the vehicle, he slowed his steps. Curved hips and long, slim, denim-clad legs were bent over the bed of his truck—distinctive legs that could belong to no one but Brynn, especially since her dog and cat were on the ground at her feet.
He approached quietly. “While I appreciate the view, I can’t help wondering what you’re doing.”
Lancelot growled, then relaxed, his tail wagging. Startled, Brynn swung the upper part of her body up, her head twisting around to stare at him. “Hi,” she offered awkwardly.
“Hi, yourself. Can I help you with something?”
“Bossy decided to go exploring. He’s in the back of your truck and he doesn’t want to come out.”
“He’s an unlikely hitchhiker,” Matt replied. “And with his mouth he’s liable to get us both in trouble.”
“You were going somewhere?” she questioned. “Of course, why else would you be in the parking lot?” She leaned back into the bed of the truck, affording him quite a view. Lancelot stretched up on his short hind legs, clearly wanting to help.
Although Matt could have watched Brynn all day, he didn’t think his hormones could take it. Walking around to the cab, he opened the door, then reached inside to slide open the air vent in the rear windshield. “If you can get him to jump through here, it’ll be easier to catch him.”
Brynn narrowed the space the bird was roaming in, forcing him toward the back of the bed. With a squawk, Bossy flew toward the open vent. Pleased, Brynn jumped down from the back of the truck and rushed toward the cab. As she opened the door, Lancelot ran between her legs, jumping into the cab, as well. As Brynn climbed into the cab, Snookems meowed plaintively.
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