The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

by Bonnie K. Winn

  Standing outside, Matt leaned his forehead briefly against the roof of the truck. Then he lowered his head and spoke through the partially opened window, knowing instinctively that he had wanted to seek her out; that it would be easier to make the decision about the resort while she was standing at his side. “Put the cat inside, too, and they can all go for a ride.”

  “Really?” Brynn asked uncertainly. “They’re a handful.”

  “I could use some company.” Matt glanced at the mini menagerie with skepticism. “They weren’t quite what I had in mind, but there’s plenty of room where we’re going.”

  Brynn scooped up Snookems, then tried to settle all her animals down. Lancelot agreeably curled up on her feet. Snookems chose her lap and Bossy continued to stare at Matt in challenge.

  “Sorry about Bossy,” she explained. “He’s...well...bossy.”

  “So I see,” Matt muttered, starting the truck and putting it in gear.

  “Drop dead!” the bird ordered.

  Matt resisted a comeback, instead quickly pulling out of the parking lot, ignoring Bossy’s continued insults. Knowing the route he wanted to take, Matt quickly maneuvered the back roads of the resort, heading upward. While snow already covered the upper peaks and mountaintops, he knew of one grassy knoll that wouldn’t yet be blotted out by early snow. The grass would be yellow, the aspens nearly bare, but he would be able to walk the land, feel the crunch of the earth beneath his boots.

  It wouldn’t be long now before the major storms started dumping on the mountains. It had begun snowing in September at the highest points, but now the weather would soon blanket the entire mountainside, even dipping into the valleys.

  Brynn seemed to sense his mood, quietly petting her animals, stroking the nearly blind cat until she purred contentedly. Even Bossy quieted, although the bird kept his gaze fiercely on Matt.

  The four-by-four competently climbed the last dirt road up to the meadow. Although he knew the landscape well, Matt stared at the magnificent backdrop, knowing he couldn’t bear to lose this land.

  Far above, trickles of crystal-clear water slowly turned to torrents that rushed down the cliffsides. And Matt knew that once he left the truck he could see the falls that water created, plunging down the mountainside, then crashing through a narrow box canyon. It had been a spot he and Gregory had claimed as their own hole-in-the-wall outlaw hideaway as kids. But Gregory had quickly outgrown childish games...and dreams.

  After parking, Matt turned to Brynn. “This is where we get out.”

  “The end of the road. Literally.” She glanced around the secluded area as Lancelot and Snookems wandered through the grass, sniffing. Bossy hopped behind them as though marshaling his charges. “We could be the only people in the world up here.”

  He studied her in surprise. “That’s how it usually makes me feel. That’s why I like it.”

  “You running away from someone in particular?” she asked, swallowing a premonition as she spoke.

  Matt searched her eyes, but knew he couldn’t confront that problem right now. “More a something than a someone.” Tucking his hands in his back pockets he walked toward the edge of the meadow.

  Brynn followed him. “Problem?”

  “I have to decide whether to commit to the entire expansion project.”

  Puzzled, she cocked her head. “I thought you were already committed to that.”

  “In theory, absolutely. But I have a lot of things to consider. We’ll be tying up all of our liquid assets and Dad might need more surgery. Expensive surgery.”

  “Can’t you set aside funds for that?” she asked. “Ones that aren’t figured into the business accounts, ones that can’t be touched if anything goes wrong?”

  “A medical trust?” Matt asked, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it himself.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure about the terminology, but money that’s legally separate.”

  “It might work,” he replied slowly.

  “You don’t sound as though that’s all that’s worrying you.”

  “Do you know why this is called Cache Valley?” he asked, not directly answering her.

  “No.”

  “Back when it was first discovered, the only people who lived here besides the Indians were mountain men. It was the land of the Shoshoni and the explorers—Jim Bridger and the other scouts who came after him. It was too cold and desolate for families to think about settling here.” Matt stared across the wide chasm of the cliff. “In the late 1820s, 1830, it was the era of the Rocky Mountain Fur Trade. And this area was the crossroads and camping ground for almost every mountain man that ever fought, trapped and traded in the Rocky Mountains.” Matt gestured toward the unforgiving land. “It was a rugged life for rugged men. They valued the area because they thought it was a good place to ‘cache’ or hide their furs and supplies.”

  “Cache Valley,” she murmured. “It fits.”

  “But Gallagher MacKenzie saw more than cold and isolation. It was 1830 and he stood here—in this meadow—looked across that mountain and knew it wouldn’t always be a hideaway.”

  “He had vision,” she guessed.

  “Incredible vision. It’s prime real estate now, but then...” Matt shook his head at the thought. “He staked a claim when others passed it by, eager to get to California and the land of milk and honey. Farther than you can see, it’s MacKenzie land—and has been for eight generations, almost nine.”

  A faraway expression lit Matt’s eyes as he continued. “I told you once it didn’t come without a price. It was a harsh place to raise a family. And when the first MacKenzie to think about turning it into a resort took his life savings and built the original ski lift by the dell, everyone thought he was crazy. But he took the risk, defied the odds.” Matt laughed at the memory—the story told to him since he’d been old enough to sit at his grandfather’s knee. “Who would pay to come up a mountain and then slide halfway down?”

  “But they came,” she said softly.

  “Yes, they came and Eagle Point was born. Even though Gallagher MacKenzie didn’t predict skiing, instinctively he recognized the value of the land.” Matt gazed into the distance. “Eagle Point has the same appeal Telluride does—it’s far enough away from civilization for people to feel they’ve left it behind.”

  “But most people won’t recognize that as an asset,” she murmured.

  “No.” And most people didn’t have her astute grasp. “When times have been bad, the family’s been faced with parceling off some of the land but they never have. Even during the Depression they hung on when other places gave up and sold out. And during good times when it would have been easier to live comfortably from the profits, the money was reinvested into Eagle Point, always improving it, making it better, ensuring the future of the coming generations.”

  “Which is why it’s so successful today.”

  “The original lodge is the main core of Eagle Point but it’s more than six times its initial size.”

  Her brows lifted in surprise.

  “That doesn’t count the cottages, outbuildings, expanded lifts or summer recreations. Each generation has made additions. Additions that didn’t come without sacrifice. But we couldn’t compete today if that planning hadn’t been in place all along.”

  “And your decision now?”

  “I can take Eagle Point into the twenty-first century, make it a true world-class resort, or I could drag it into bankruptcy if I’m wrong.”

  Brynn probed his expression. “Do you believe in your plans?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m right.”

  “And if you don’t make the improvements?”

  “We can glide along as we have.”

  She met his eyes. “You told me it was the responsibility of every MacKenzie to ensure the success of the coming generations. Gliding along doesn’t sound like it’s going to cut it.”

  “And if I’m wrong?”

  Her eyes held his, steady and unblinking. “Taki
ng a risk is your legacy from Gallagher MacKenzie. Suppose he’d let uncertainty sway him?”

  “We’d probably be standing in someone else’s barn or factory, or the middle of a housing development.”

  “Or someone else’s Telluride?” she suggested gently. “You have the vision, Matt. That’s why you’re the one who inherited the responsibility. And you have to follow the courage of your convictions.”

  His face tilted up sharply, his gaze seeking hers. The double meaning of her words struck them both. He wasn’t a man who could live with dishonor. And wanting his brother’s wife was the worst kind of dishonor he could imagine.

  He bit out a muffled curse, then shoved his hands through already tousled hair. “You’re right. About everything.”

  Her heart clenched as she realized what he meant. She may have convinced him to follow his convictions and those same convictions made her strictly off-limits.

  The small distance between them seemed to widen in the silence. When he finally looked away from her, she saw his face change and then suddenly he began to run. “Oh, hell.”

  When he accelerated into a sprint and she saw that he was heading directly for the edge of the meadow that spilled over the cliff, her hand flew to her mouth and her heart lodged somewhere not far behind. “Matt!” She’d intended to should the word but it came out as a strangled whisper.

  Then it looked as though he’d fly off the edge of the cliff, but he slid to a stop, grabbing at something, then rolling backward. Concentrating only on Matt, Brynn hadn’t seen anything else.

  Racing toward him, she finally recognized the gray fluff cradled in his big hands. Snookems!

  As she reached him, she dropped to her knees. “Matt?”

  “Your blind beast was about to take her last leap in this world.”

  “Snookems!” Brynn half scolded, relief filtering the words. Grateful to see that neither of them had come to harm, Brynn started shaking.

  “Oh, jeez,” Matt groaned. “She’s okay. But next time you’d better put her on a lead.”

  “What if you hadn’t been able to stop when you’d gotten to the edge?” she questioned, feeling tears sting her eyes.

  “I did. Look, you were right about one thing. I’m a trained athlete. Used to be on the U.S. ski team—remember, it’s headquartered here in Utah. I love to downhill and I’m in heaven when I hit the moguls. And off-season, I four-wheel, play rugby and work out. I wasn’t in any danger.”

  “Still...” Brynn couldn’t contain the concern that overwhelmed her. When she’d thought there was a chance he was in danger, she’d felt her heart almost stop. A feeling so intense it still swamped her. A feeling, she realized suddenly, she’d never experienced in worrying about Gregory—a man who was a fantasy, not a man she loved; as she did Matt.

  And he was the one she loved. With all her heart.

  And now he was gently helping her up, still cradling the cat. Lancelot was licking both her hand and then Matt’s—an acceptance she’d never expected from the wounded animal. Matt had managed to ensnare them all.

  Even Bossy was strutting beside them, his shrill voice cutting through the mountain breeze. “Good job!” the bird kept repeating, interspersed with a colorful injunction on how they’d better get out of Dodge.

  Brynn wondered why her newfound realization didn’t shout itself to the literal mountaintops as it crowded her in its rush to be free.

  Her hand still held solicitously in Matt’s, she walked with him back to safety, knowing that that in itself was an irony. She’d never be safe again. Not with her soul committed to a man she could never have.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Heather and Andy trooped beside Brynn as she walked along the main street of Gallagher. So far they’d gone into every store, examined everything from hair barrettes and earrings to comic books and the newest candy in the drugstore.

  Having been promised ice-cream cones, they were now headed for the Hamburger Hut, a place that served old-fashioned custard ice cream. Brynn hadn’t known such places still existed. Nor had she ever heard of Andy and Heather’s own brand of logic. They needed ice-creams cones now before winter set in. Although the nip of autumn and the approaching winter chilled the air, this was a not-to-be-missed treat.

  Ruth had explained the custom, then hesitantly asked Brynn if she would take the kids to town. Frank was having a bad day, Ruth had explained. Having heard nothing about Gregory in the last two days, Frank had gone into a slump. And Ruth didn’t want to leave him on his own. Matt had already left earlier and Ruth didn’t know when he planned to return. She’d hated asking Brynn but her worry about Frank had overridden any concern about breaching manners.

  But Brynn had enjoyed the excursion, delighting in the spontaneous things both kids said. And she was settling cozily into the perfect fit of the town. Like a well-broken-in pair of shoes, it cradled every ill-fitting experience from the past.

  Brynn urged the kids along the sidewalk, hoping she could stand to eat frozen custard in the cool temperatures, but not wanting to miss the unexpected treat.

  “How come you live in the city if they don’t have good stuff?” Andy asked around a mouthful of bubblegum.

  “Well, there are fun things in the city, too.”

  Andy’s face screwed into a skeptical mask. “Doesn’t sound like it. Not even any good ice cream.”

  “We have Häagen-Dazs in the stores,” Brynn offered.

  Andy wasn’t impressed. “Gregory always made living in the city sound good. Guess he didn’t want us to know how bad it really is.”

  Brynn’s lips quirked upward, but she valiantly tried to control the grin threatening. “When you’re a grown-up, different things are fun.”

  “Well, you’re a grown-up and you like it better here.”

  So she did. “You sure you’re not a midget?”

  Andy rolled his eyes.

  Seeing this, Heather looked big-sister pained. “Boys.”

  Which only caused Andy to roll his eyes again. “Like you know anything.”

  “More than you do,” Heather countered.

  Fortuitously, they’d arrived at the Hamburger Hut. Not certain how far the squabble could escalate, Brynn issued a silent sigh of relief. “Here we are. Would you guys like some food first?”

  “Heck, no,” Andy replied without consulting his sister. “I might get too full for ice cream.”

  “And that would be a crime,” Brynn agreed, her own mouth watering at the promise of a creamy cone. They approached the order window and Brynn peeked inside the tiny place, watching the well-orchestrated bustle. A wonderful aroma of freshly cooked burgers and the tang of recently sliced onions and pickles filled the air. The shakes she saw being made looked tempting, too. Another feast for the senses.

  A few minutes later, loaded with cones that were two and three dips high, they sat at one of the small tables scattered outside the Hamburger Hut. Not large enough to have indoor seating, it was a place where teens congregated, children raced to, and adults indulged in.

  Briefly, Brynn could remember going to a similar place with her grandmother when she’d been very young. But her mother hadn’t the patience or tolerance for such places. Instead, she purchased pints of gourmet ice cream in exotic flavors. Licking her cone, Brynn knew none of those luxuries had tasted nearly as good as Hamburger Hut’s custard.

  An older couple approached the order window and both Heather and Andy waved to them. Brynn smiled as well and when they’d placed their order, the man and woman walked over.

  “Hey, Uncle Mick!” Andy called out.

  “Hi, Aunt Lucille,” Heather added when they were closer.

  “Those look good,” Lucille commented as she watched them tackle the cones.

  “Aren’t you having any?” Andy asked.

  “I wish,” Lucille answered. “But we have to watch our cholesterol. It was either hamburgers or ice cream. Not both.”

  Mick made a disgusted face, indicating his feelings about their he
althy diet.

  “I’d have picked ice cream,” Andy replied.

  Heather poked him none too subtly.

  “He’s right,” Mick defended, a twinkle in his eyes. “Actually I want both.”

  “Good thing I’m along to make sure you don’t!” Lucille reproved.

  “Yeah. Good thing,” Mick muttered.

  Lucille ignored him, watching Brynn instead. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  Before Brynn could speak, Heather jumped in. “This is Brynn. She’s our sister now.”

  The guileless, trusting words cut a new path to Brynn’s guilt. She was beginning to wonder how long she could keep up this charade. The lies and pretense were eating her alive.

  “You must be Gregory’s wife!” Lucille exclaimed, thawing at the realization. “I thought you were a tourist at first. We just got back to town late last night. We spend the early fall in Denver close to our children—before we have to battle ice and snow. But Ruth told me all about your elopement before the family went to meet you.” She pointed to her husband. “I’m Lucille Stratton and this is my husband, Mick.” She didn’t give Brynn a chance to respond as she continued her monologue. “I’m dying to learn all about you, Brynn. But, first. Is there any news about Gregory?”

  Brynn saw the shadows instantly touch both Heather and Andy, the concentration on their ice-cream cones diminishing, the easy laughter in their eyes dimming. “Actually, we’re very encouraged. While a definite agreement hasn’t been reached, the negotiations are at a very positive stage. Both his firm and the government feel hopeful that they can reach an agreement soon.”

  Brynn was relieved to see some of the shadows on the children’s faces disappear.

  “I never doubted it for a minute,” Mick replied. “That boy’s a fighter.” His cheery gaze rested on the children. “Do we know anyone smarter?”

  Both children shook their heads.

  “Or more ingenious?” he continued.

  They shook their heads again.

  “Well, then. Is he going to let a few backward rebels stop him?”