Trapped with the Mountain Man
A Standalone Novel
Henley Maverick
Contents
1. Scarlet
2. Ivan
3. Scarlet
4. Ivan
5. Scarlet
6. Ivan
7. Scarlet
8. Ivan
9. Scarlet
10. Ivan
11. Scarlet
12. Scarlet
13. Ivan
14. Scarlet
15. Scarlet
16. Ivan
17. Scarlet
18. Ivan
19. Scarlet
20. Scarlet
21. Ivan
22. Scarlet
Epilogue
About the Author
Scarlet
The mountain peaks broke through thin threads of mist, ruling the soft, clear sky in awesome magnificence. I was used to this beautiful spectacle in the three months I had spent in Mount Greylock. Still, I couldn’t get enough of it. In a town of just about ten thousand people, it was one of the few things that could lift my spirits. I watched every second of it whenever I had the chance, in the hope that my life would take a turn for the better.
After last year’s events in Ohio, I had lost that hope. My own birthplace, my home had turned into a trap I just had to escape from. Mount Greylock posed as the ideal candidate to house me, at least for a while. My great-grandfather used to live up here. Minnesota was on a few states over, but far enough from everyone I was hiding from.
I soon found out that living in a small town like this wasn’t all roses. In fact, it was nothing like the scenic heaven I thought it was. Yes, it was beautiful, much quieter than the city I had grown up in and the locals were friendly, but I had other problems, problems that I never had to worry about in Ohio.
First of all, the notion of a personal life sounded like a bad joke. Why? Because everyone knew everyone in Mount Greylock. And no one knew Scarlet Peterson. I looked nothing like my great-grandfather, of course. There were some folks in this town who didn’t even know who my great-grandfather was. He used to work at a bank here, and from what I understood, he used to give out loans to the locals like candy. Not anymore though. He was long gone from this place, resting with the angels.
Also people talked in this town. I remembered visiting a bar when I first moved out here one night when I was lonely and got my share of nasty looks from the younger women. Apparently they fought over the most eligible bachelors in this town, but I’d be damned if I was going to fight over any man. There were some handsome, thorough-bred men living out here, sure, but if I had to get into a cat fight to have one to myself, it just wasn’t worth. Plus, I didn’t know how long I was going to stay in Mount Greylock. I just needed a nice little town to lay low in for a little bit.
Getting into cat fights wasn’t all that I was worried about. I didn’t mind the townsfolk gossiping about me—the newcomer. I loved gossiping about others too, but the locals’ relaxed lifestyle meant that they had ample time on their hands. If they started snooping around my past, it would spell disaster. My secrets were my own; I didn’t want anyone to find out about me, least of all a bunch of people I had to tolerate for the time being. To me, living in their town was temporary. It was my hideout, and the place where I needed to make some quick cash so that moving back to Ohio could become a possibility.
Sadly however, the latter was my second issue. Getting a job was rather easy for locals, but, for a city girl like me, it was next to impossible. Back in Ohio, I was an underpaid junior accountant. Who needs an accountant in a town full of farms, flourmills and horse ranches? The locals kept their books and records themselves, if they did at all. And the classified ads in their newspaper was screaming that to me. Almost all of them requested people who had a good knowledge on things like milking cows, feeding livestock, farm spraying or repairing machinery like tractors. I didn’t find any of those jobs demeaning in any way, but I lacked a very basic qualification: Experience. I was a quick learner, but, once my potential employers heard about that, my job interviews were over in a matter of minutes. Indeed, I had been to more than twenty of them in the past couple of weeks, and they all ended in miserable disasters.
As usual, after a trip to the local grocery store, that Monday afternoon found me in the town square, wondering how much time I had left in Mount Greylock. My cash was dwindling very fast, although I was doing my best to cut back on any luxuries. All I had bought were some apples, cabbage, shampoo, milk and bread. Reluctantly, I had also picked up another copy of the local newspaper even though part of me believed that buying it was both a waste of money and time.
I sat in my car and ate an apple while I flipped over the front page, unwilling to even glance at pictures or the cover story for that matter—which was another warning not to mess with the wildlife, especially the wolves. I was just interested in the classifieds. When my gaze landed on the two pages in the middle of the paper, a wave of disappointment washed over me. The locals rambled on in their ads about the necessary skills of potential applicants. I shouldn’t be surprised. I had seen this too many times before. Yet, one, much shorter listing stood out.
Help Wanted: Local farmer, looking for someone with experience in bookkeeping and light housekeeping (nothing much, just dishes and laundry). Experience in the field is a must. Free room and board, if needed. If you don’t know how to keep books, don’t bother applying.
Ivan Scott
My initial reaction to this was a snort of amusement. Whoever had put up this ad had not bothered keeping up appearances. He was pretty blunt, even by Mount Greylock's standards. However, it wasn’t long before my amusement gave its place to suspicion. Who was this Ivan Scott? Why was his job listing so much different than the others? Why didn’t he take some time to draft it better, like his fellow compatriots had? Despite that ugly feeling though, to me, this was a no brainer. It was the only job that suited me. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of doing someone else’s laundry, but I had worked at a hotel as a housekeeper before. I was fully qualified for this job, and with the shape of my finances, I couldn’t afford to ignore it. So, I pulled a pen out of my purse and circled it.
Ivan
I yanked open the lid to my mailbox and about half a dozen postcards and other junk slid out onto the ground.
“What a fucking mess…” I grumbled, bending down to pick up the letters.
The sight of my flooded mailbox wasn’t new to me. I was Ivan Scott, one of Mount Greylock's most prominent businessmen. I had earned my town’s respect over the years, even after my father Mikhail's passing. If anything, I expected tons of undeposited checks and invoices. From the looks of things, the mail hadn’t been checked in several days. It was my fault really. After learning that Nina Bennett, my faithful housekeeper, was in the hospital diagnosed with pneumonia, I should have been on top of things.
Poor Nina had to remain hospitalized for another six to eight weeks, leaving me in a pinch. Her older kids had even called me to tell me that Nina wouldn’t be returning to work for me after this due to other health issues the doctor’s found. I was devastated, but Nina’s health came first. I sent Nina a healthy severance care package even though I didn’t have to, but I felt I was obligated to do something to help her and her family out. That’s what people did in this town. They looked out for one another.
The holidays were just around the corner. To a Christmas tree farm and logging business, this time is the craziest and most critical of the year. Christmas tree orders were already rolling in, and if folks didn’t want a tree, they still needed firewood to get them through the winter months. I would definitely have my hands full.
The
first few days without Nina were just a taste of the stressful month that lay ahead. I was already starting to struggle with my daily chores. Prior to losing my housekeeper, they sounded simple and quick, but now, I’d had a change of heart. There was nothing quick about keeping my house and my business in order. Inevitably, I was forced to choose between the upkeep for the house and tending to my business. I couldn’t neglect my business. Calling it quits was one thing, but letting things go to shit was another. By the end of the day, my head was spinning, my legs were killing me, and my mind was going in a hundred different directions. Dozens of unrelated questions plagued me at the same time.
How much wood had Mr. Lee ordered again?
Did I enter his order correctly? I was on the phone when I did that, I could have screwed it up.
The living room upholstery needs to be replaced, ASAP.
All the filters in the home needed to be changed.
Of course, none of this would have happened if my dear brother Abram had not abandoned Mount Greylock in the first place. A year ago, he left the mountains to go find his true calling in Ohio. He did visit a lot during the summer, but that was just about it. He stayed over for a couple of days, and then went straight back to the city. Abram didn’t even want to hear about getting involved in the family business. His skills in finance would have been a big help right now, but according to him, it was ‘a big, fat drag’. There were times I wanted to punch him in the head for daring to utter those words. The ‘fat drag’ had made sure he never had to worry about working for a living. We both had enough money to live off for two lifetimes. We had inherited a thriving business. Its existence now depended on my actions.
While I did have a large crew lined up for deliveries and such, my skills on administrative work and bookkeeping were poor, which was exactly why I had assigned all of that to Nina. I’d even given her the leeway to hire help if she needed it, but she insisted on doing it all herself. And she had handled everything like the pro she was. With her in hospital and my disillusioned brother in Ohio, I had to recruit some help. Either that…or sell the business before things got too bad. I had placed an ad in the local newspaper and though it had gotten a few bites, the candidates I interviewed were not what I’d call ideal. None of them had a clue about bookkeeping. One even suggested it meant keeping the books clean and in alphabetical order. I needed someone to come in and know what to do immediately without much direction. I didn’t have time to babysit someone. The business didn’t just operate itself.
As the days went by, I had to admit that the prospect of selling sounded more and more appealing. I had a backup house—a cozy little cabin nestled up in the mountains, where no one would bother me about the damn trees anymore. And if they wanted logs and firewood, they could damn sure cut them down themselves. There were no shortage of loggers in Mount Greylock. I had no wife or children. Why shouldn’t I just walk away from all this mess? Arranging a buyer for the farm was just a phone call away. All I had to do was give the local bank manager the green light and buyers would swarm in my front yard. I could think of a few people who would kill to own some prime land like mine and a business that was going to make them millions in just a few years.
The stack of applications I went over this morning strengthened the idea of wrapping shit up and selling. Stable boys, girls who hadn’t even finished high school, and tractor engineers had ignored the last sentence of my ad. There was no way I would hire one of them. I didn’t care if my credentials were too far-fetched. I wasn’t going to let these new employees drive me crazy this year.
I tucked the bundle of mail under my arm, and with a heavy heart, I marched back to my house to make that phone call to the local bank manager. I knew my father would have a thing or two to say if he could see me, but this was getting out of hand. In truth, I had to choose between continuing the family business and my sanity. As I picked up my phone from the kitchen table though, it rang with an incoming call.
I plopped down into a big leather chair, picked up the handset, and leaned back against my seat. “Hello?” I croaked into the phone.
“Hi. I’d like to talk to Mr. Scott, please.” A sweet, feathery voice was on the other end of the line, somewhat surprising and refreshing to me.
“This is he.”
“Sir, my name is Scarlet Peterson. I’m calling about the bookkeeping job. Is it still available?”
“It is.” I replied, assuming a firm tone. “What’s your experience in bookkeeping, Ms. Peterson?”
“I have a PhD in accounting, sir.” She informed with a short laugh. “I graduated from Ohio State University with honors three years ago. Before moving here, I worked for a short time at Mercer and Franklin in Cleveland. They’re…”
“What about housekeeping?” I interrupted, more interested in her skill set and experience rather than a list of degrees.
“I’ve worked as a housekeeper in Samson Hotel to pay my way through college, and then I worked my way up into the accounting office where I’ve been in just about every position. Clerk. Night auditor. Accounting manager.”
Scarlet's experience intrigued me even further, putting a small smile on my face. I was impressed. “Sweet. Can you drop by later in the afternoon? How’s five o’clock?”
“Great,” she chirped. “I can’t wait to meet you, sir. I’ll see you at five. Bye.”
“Bye for now.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, understanding how close I had come to doing something I was going to regret later on. The family business might have become a burden, but, deep down, I didn’t want to sell it. Running it with my father had given me countless memories. Sure, not all of them were pleasant. We used to argue a lot back in the day, but they were all I had to remember him by. Scarlet sounded like she had a lot of experience, and I was confident that she’d help me sort out this mess.
Scarlet
Ivan Scott's response was probably the best news I’d gotten in a while. I didn’t have anything solid yet. It was still early to break out the champagne, but it was a positive development. Okay, working on a noisy farm filled with cows, chickens, goats and horses wasn’t my cup of tea, but by that point, I couldn’t care any less. I didn’t even bother to ask if the free room he had mentioned in the ad was actually a barn. Anything I could get for free was welcome. I could save so much more at a quicker rate if I didn’t have to pay rent.
However, when I drove up to his farm, I realized that my expectations were far from reality. It was noisy and huge, but the racket didn’t come from livestock of any sort. Two men were out in the front yard, talking to one another. Another pickup truck had just driven off with a cab filled with thick logs. The one still in his driveway had been loaded with Christmas trees. The smell of diesel was still lingering in the air when I got out of my car. Preferring to let the men finish their conversation, I tore my gaze away from them, and looked at the house on the land. Without question, it was nothing like what I had seen in Mount Greylock. It was just massive and it seemed well-preserved. I’d never seen a cabin with more than one level before. Compared to the homes I had seen before in the various subdivisions, this looked like a mansion. Its outer walls were the same wood-grained toned as some of the logs stacked up on the disappearing pickup truck. There was also a stone pathway in the middle of a lawn with a water fountain feature, except there wasn’t any water running it in, probably because of the season. I guess I was expected some small shack or ranch surrounded by actual farmland with livestock and all that.
“Ahem…” The sound of someone clearing his throat grabbed my attention.
I dragged my gaze away from the property, only to find a tall, handsome, muscular man standing in front of me. He had short, black hair and a pair of green eyes that startled me at first. They were a much darker shade of green than usual, but this wasn’t the biggest surprise for me. Ivan was young; he couldn’t have been more than four or five years older than me. After our conversation the day before, I thought I was going to meet with an older man
, not this hung stud. His well-trimmed beard made him look a little older, but his eyes, posture, and perfect body were telling.
“Ms. Peterson, I presume?” His eyes crinkled and a grin tugged at his lips.
“Yes! I exclaimed, my lips bursting into a polite smile as I offered my hand for a handshake. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Scott.”
“Likewise.” He returned the smile, shaking my hand. “Before we get started, I have a request. Stop calling me Mr. Scott and sir.”
“Okay.” I said with a nod, my smile staying on as I stared up at his full lips. They were pure perfection. Dare God, why was I starting at this man’s mouth?
“So, what’s an accountant from Ohio doing around these parts?” Ivan asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.
His question put me in a difficult position. My enthusiasm vaporized in the blink of an eye. What was I supposed to tell him? I moved up here because I like the freezing cold? No. If I had any hope of landing this job, lying to him was out of the question.
“Can I be honest with you?” I said, my voice coming out hesitant.
“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Well…” I sucked in a deep breath. “I moved into town after my mom died, back in August. My great-grandfather used to live here. He worked at the bank for the longest before he retired. He’d told my mom lots of stories about how beautiful it was, but that’s not the only reason why I decided to leave Ohio. I really need this job. I need to pay off some serious debt. If you need a full-charge bookkeeper, I’m your gal. Free room and board would be icing on the cake too. I couldn’t do that in the city. There were just too many bills to pay. Cost of living is so much cheaper out here.”
“How much debt are we talking about here?” he asked, leaning over towards me.
“Twenty-three thousand, I think.” My response was sharp, my heart pounding in my chest, while I dreaded the thought of him asking any further questions about that debt.
Trapped with the Mountain Man Page 1
