by Lia Riley
She was quiet for a moment; a moment that dragged on long enough that his heart began to pound. He hadn’t said what he said because he expected her to reciprocate, that’s not what this had been, but damn it, when they’d been together, she had to have felt what was between them. What was undeniably right.
And if she didn’t. Fuck. It would hurt like nothing he’d known, but no regrets. He meant every word, come hell or high water.
“I’ve never had anyone tell me that. I mean no one who’s not obligated to, like Mother or Daddy. In fact, I’m not sure if they ever said the words. They did love me, of course they did, but they weren’t demonstrative and now I’m babbling.”
How had no one told this lovable, wonderful woman she was worthy of all that was best in the world? His heart broke even as his mind couldn’t conceive of the fact. It just didn’t make sense. “The first time we met, I told you that the man who wins your heart needed to tell you how beautiful you are every night as you fall asleep and every morning when you wake. I don’t know why you’ve been surrounded by people who are blind or stupid. I’ve got to say I never trusted city slickers much and this only confirms my suspicions.”
“You really mean it.”
“I mean it so much that saying it doesn’t even feel right. It’s too big. It’s too much. But it’s all I’ve got, no other fancy words.”
“Archer.” She sniffled. “I love you too.”
And those words might not be enough, but to hear her say it, they were everything.
He wrapped his arms around her middle and picked her right up off her feet. It hurt like a mother, his ribs were sore as hell. Maybe it was a bad idea, but he wasn’t ever going to be the kind of guy who made all the responsible choices. Right now he needed his woman up and against him.
“All I want to do is be the kind of guy who is worthy of someone like you.”
Her toes pressed into his shins as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “And just who do you think I am?”
“Beautiful on the inside, in a way that shines through and makes your pretty outside something amazing. You are brave. Look at you, moving to the other side of the country, becoming a business owner. You could be a spoiled brat chewing out maids and testing out the limits of your credit card and no one would bat an eye. You chose another path and I have so much respect for you.”
Edie rested her forehead on his. “Thank you for saying all these things. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. But I’m not perfect either and I’ve done things I’m not proud of. And I need to make amends too.”
Chapter Twenty-One
EDIE PARKED OUTSIDE a cheerful yellow cottage a few blocks off Brightwater’s Main Street. Well-planned garden beds encircled the house bursting with blossoms of every imaginable color. She had to be at the sheriff’s office in an hour to give an official statement. Reggie was going to be released on bond but the charges of blackmail and possession of an illegal firearm would follow him. Not to mention the fact that revenge porn was illegal in California. The area was grey since she wasn’t specifically in the photograph, but still . . . the decision to post such an intimate image to cause harm wouldn’t do him any favors when he had his day in court, never mind the assault charges.
Sober, Reggie acted more ashamed than cocky, Sawyer said. Good. Let him return to New York with his tail between his legs. He was also being investigated for involvement in a Ponzi scheme so it might well be a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire. It sounded like Suki had taken off for greener pastures when the money dried up.
Sad to have so much and to lose it all.
But Reggie had made his own bed and the person she’d once been was gone. She still loved that Old Eden—sad, insecure, expecting people to dislike her, lurking in the sidelines of life. But that wasn’t her anymore.
She was Edie Banks in Brightwater. But to move forward in this new chapter, she needed to clear the air.
With a deep breath, she got out of her car and walked up the zinnia-lined path toward the house.
Inside was silent. Maybe no one was home.
She knocked and waited.
Marigold opened the door. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want to go through with the bake off,” Edie said. “I should never have challenged you in the first place. It was the wrong move. I’m new here and while I don’t want to be walked all over, I don’t want to be unnecessarily adversarial either.”
“Unnecessarily adversarial?” Marigold rolled her eyes. “Who talks like that?”
“I do,” Edie said simply. “But I want to come here and make peace. It doesn’t benefit you, me, or our respective businesses to have a public disagreement.”
“Is this because of that dirty picture?”
Edie froze. “Excuse me?”
“The one online. I heard about it and found it this morning.”
“No.” Edie’s shoulders slumped. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Marigold gave her a long look. “Why don’t you come inside?”
Edie glanced behind her. The sidewalk was empty. No one was in their yards. Not a single witness would see her enter Marigold’s house. The place looked cute and from what she could glimpse through the open door, it seemed neat and tidy, not a torture den, but still, uncertainty caused her heart to beat faster.
“Can I get you something, a glass of water, cup of tea, crappy coffee?”
Edie blushed and entered. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said my first morning here about your coffee. It had been a long twenty-four hours and while that’s no excuse, I wasn’t at my best either.”
Marigold waved to a couch. “Take a seat.” She perched on the edge of a chair opposite. “The photo—”
“It wasn’t me.”
Marigold wrinkled her nose. “Of course not. Your hair color is unique, so many different shades. The woman in that picture is wearing a wig, or box dyed it. Anyone can tell.”
Edie wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. Marigold’s intense stare gave away very little. “This happened to me once,” she said.
“It did?” Edie’s hands formed two fists. “A photograph?”
“I moved to LA for a year after high school.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought about getting into modeling or acting.”
“You are very pretty.”
“Thanks.” Marigold’s smile was tight. “I wasn’t pretty enough. But I got a few small time swimsuit model gigs, and found an agent who became my boyfriend. It got murky. Anyway, he took some images of us . . . together. I was stupid and young, trusted that he loved me, that he’d never hurt me. Bad decision.”
“He posted them.” Edie’s blood chilled as her heart clenched in sympathy.
“Eventually. I got homesick and wanted to come back to Brightwater. My mom wasn’t well and she couldn’t manage The Baker’s Dozen all on her own.”
“So you moved home.”
“Yep, and got stuck. My mom died and I got her shop, kept it going in her memory. He didn’t like my decision and posted pictures of me as revenge, emailing me the link. I don’t know who, if anyone, here has ever seen them. But they are out there floating around on the internet somewhere. Men must occasionally look at them. Do things while looking at me.” She shuddered.
“That should never have happened—you didn’t deserve it.”
“I haven’t trusted anyone since. Sure, I date sometimes. But I can’t take it farther. Ever. Plus, I don’t know . . . I want to leave sometimes. I love Brightwater, I do. But there’s a whole world out there and I feel like it’s all going to pass me by. Most of my friends from high school left, or if they stayed, they are married with kids. They don’t have time for me. I’m by myself most of the time and . . . I’m lonely.”
Edie blinked. Suddenly Marigold didn’t seem like such a mean girl. The cold face was nothing more than a mask to keep the world from seeing how much she hurt. She lashed out at others because she was insecure herself. Was that how it was for the bullies that attacked her when she wa
s younger too? It was too late to know, but maybe so.
Here she had taken all of Marigold’s attitude and made the situation about her. It was never about her. Marigold was sad and lonely, but none of it was about Edie.
Compassion swelled Edie’s heart. “You don’t love the bakery?”
“No,” she shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t. I never have. I don’t like to cook. It’s not my passion. But I love my mom and that place is my last connection to her. I can’t bear to sell it.”
Edie sat for a long moment. “What would you do if you didn’t have the responsibility of running The Baker’s Dozen?
“Seriously?” Margot stared into space with a dreamy expression. “I’d like to travel to France and visit Monet’s Garden or the grounds at Versailles. I’ve always loved gardening and flowers.”
Edie leaned forward. “I might be able to help you.”
ARCHER FINISHED WORK for the day, the last of the ranch hands headed home. Grandma was still in the hospital but she’d been steadily improving. He dug out his phone and hit “Wilder.” A robotic message told him to leave a message. It didn’t even have his real voice. He and Sawyer had been trying to contact his brother since Grandma went into the hospital last week, but so far nothing. They’d be forced to call him at work. He’d probably be pissed, but Jesus, no man could be an island.
Edie was out for a run. The half-marathon was coming up and she wanted to make a good time. The fact she could still stand after twelve miles impressed him, but she was determined and that was the thing that got him about Freckles, lassoed his heart and squeezed. When she put her mind to something, she did it.
And it rubbed off. Inspired him to dig in and try harder.
Hidden Rock chugged along fine under his new management and soon he’d be moving into the big house. Grandma couldn’t be there alone. Not anymore. And besides he needed room for a wife.
His heart squeezed even tighter, enough that he got light-headed. Yeah. Shit. Look at him. A steady career. A house. Thinking about marriage.
But, as impossible as it seemed, he wanted to do it right. Any guy could buy a ring for the woman he loved. But this was Freckles. Only a legend would do.
Over the mountains came a low rumble of thunder. The clouds were building and the wind shifted. Temperatures dropped quickly and when he breathed deep, the scent of ozone hung heavy in the air. Thunderstorms weren’t common in the Eastern Sierras, but any water was welcome. It had been an unseasonably warm winter and river levels were approaching record lows. Fires were a real and present danger and any water would decrease the risk.
Besides, something about a good storm quickened his blood. It always had, ever since he was a kid. Grandma would let him go out on the porch and watch lightning strike the high peaks of the range. Watching the overwhelming power of nature unleash itself made him feel small, but in a good way, like he was part of something bigger, not inconsequential, but in tune with the landscape. He didn’t have a good way to voice the feeling then and he still didn’t. It was a sense that anything could happen.
He didn’t mind getting wet so he reset his hat and walked past the old barn. Maybe he’d go and say hi to Sawyer, Annie, and her son, Atticus. They were all living in Sawyer’s cabin now and it wasn’t far, about a half mile walk if he cut across the rise.
He walked and idly mulled the many places Fielder Kane might have buried the ring. There weren’t any buildings from his era still standing on the ranch. They’d been torn down for firewood over the years, or replaced with new, stronger structures.
The house dated back to just over a century.
There was an old cemetery on the property, no doubt Fielder Kane’s wife was laid to rest there. Archer hadn’t visited it in a long time. He switched directions from Sawyer’s cabin to head that way. Even if the ring was hidden there, he wouldn’t be digging around his great-great-great-grandmother’s grave, but his parents were laid to rest there, and it had been a long time since he’d paid them respects.
The first heavy drops of rain fell as he reached the family cemetery. It was a quiet place, set beneath a grove of trees a discrete distance from their grazing lands and ringed by a black wrought-iron fence.
The place didn’t have the abandoned look he expected. The closest grave was covered in cut roses, the same yellow ones that bloomed near the ranch house. This is where Grandfather was buried. The words on the headstone were simple.
A good man, husband and father.
Grandma must still visit him. The roses didn’t look more than a week old, only just beginning to lose their freshness. He’d cut some more and tell her. She’d like that he did that while she was in the hospital.
A little farther away was another, bigger headstone. This one had two names and more flowers. Bridger and Lynn Kane. His father and mother. They’d died in a freak house fire when he was four years old. He couldn’t remember anything about that night and no one ever spoke of it. All he knew is that he and his brothers survived.
How long has it been since he visited them?
Too long.
“Hey, Dad. Hey, Mom,” he said, kneeling. Rain pelted his back and shoulders but he wouldn’t melt. This was important. “It’s me. Archer, your youngest.” As if they might not know. “If you’ve been watching me all these years, I don’t think I’ve done a hell of a lot to make you proud. Thinking back on it, I didn’t give much of any thought to the fact you might be watching. Lately, I’m turning over a new leaf. Getting my head screwed on right. Grandma wants me to take on Hidden Rock and I met a woman, Edie, Eden. But I call her Freckles, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When I’m with her I feel like the ideas that scared me for so long, of settling down, having a family, things I didn’t know if I was cut out for, are within reach. It’s different with her. It doesn’t feel hard. It feels like the natural next step. I don’t think she’ll go easy on me but I do think she’ll always love me. And I aim to love her too.”
He reached out and touched the cold marble. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been up here to see you. I bet Sawyer comes a lot. But that’s going to change too. I’ll stop by again soon and plant some pretty things. I’ll bring Edie too.
“I wish . . .” His throat tightened, it was hard to get out the next words. “I wish you guys were here. I feel like I’m getting closer to the age you were when you died, and I can’t imagine leaving my kids behind. I hope you didn’t suffer. I hope it was quick. And you must have saved us because we kids all made it out. I haven’t talked to Wilder in too long, but I’m trying to change that too. At the end of it all, family is the most important thing, nothing else—money, land, jobs—matters if you don’t have that. A tree can’t grow without roots and mine have been shallow long enough.”
Thunder boomed, echoing up the valley.
“That’s my cue,” Archer said, pushing himself up to stand. “I want to ask Edie to be with me always, but I wanted to find that ring. The Hidden Rock ring. If I’m going to ask her to move here and live with me, it seems fitting. I’ll probably never find it but, hey, worth giving it a try.”
Lightning flashed. He stared at the big old tree opposite, gnarled with age. The storm turned fierce, the wind nearly sending his hat into the air. He clapped a hand on the brim and again lightning flashed. His eyes could be playing tricks but he walked forward, patting his parent’s gravestone as he passed. He got to the iron gate and hopped it easily. There, in front of him, was a big old tree trunk. Overhead the branches swayed wildly, scratching, cracking, and knocking together. But in the bark, carved deep with a pen knife, were initials. “F loves M,” Archer muttered. “F loves M.”
From here, there was a vantage point down the valley. The mountains, mostly locked in storm clouds were hidden but on a clear day you could see for miles. It would be a romantic spot for a picnic. Perfect for courtship. A place where he’d like to bring Edie.
Above the initials was a hole. Archer started to reach forward and then stopped himsel
f with a laugh. “You are being a fool,” he said to himself.
And maybe he was. But who cared? He was a fool in love.
He reached inside and his hand closed on a small box. “I’ll be damned.”
Pulling it out, he peeked inside and whistled. Then he glanced back to the cemetery beyond. Who knows if this was a sign, or luck, or pure dumb coincidence, but it felt like he had his parents’ blessing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE CROWD STARTED to gather an hour before noon. Margot kept going to the window of Haute Coffee and peeking. “Four new people,” she called.
Edie wiped her forehead. “Do you mind stepping away? I’m getting more and more nervous.”
“Why? You decided not to duel Marigold Flint at high noon.”
“Yes, but the town doesn’t know that yet. They don’t know what is going to happen. Only that there is a big announcement.”
“I don’t even know the big secret,” Margot said with a little pout. “Oh, look, Annie just got here.”
Margot banged on the glass window and gave a cheery wave. “Hey there!” she called through the glass before looking over her shoulder with a sheepish grin. “Sorry! Sorry! I know, back away from the window. It’s just that this is her first week with the new job, editor in chief of the Brightwater Bugle. It’s a really big step.”
“Of course, I’m so excited for her. I invited her myself. It’s just . . .” Edie reset her headband and smoothed invisible wrinkles from her A-line skirt. She’d chosen her outfit with more than the usual care. Who knew who in this small town had heard the rumors about what happened, and she wanted to look like the furthest thing from a sex scandal possible. Quincy had called and advised her to dress like a Sunday school teacher or a kindergarten teacher. “Basically like you usually do, darling, except add a cardigan.”
She’d taken his advice.
“You look cute,” Margot said. “And I’m wildly curious about what you are going to say.”
“Not long now,” Edie looked at her wristwatch. “It’s almost time.”
