Elusive Echoes (37 page)

"Nope. She didn't say."

"We're going to need the stall space in the
cow barns for some of the younger calves."

"You'll have 'em." Sean stared into the
yellow flames again, wishing Ry would take the hint and just go
away.

Instead, Ryan sat in the matching chair on
the other side of the fireplace. "You want to tell me what dang
fool thing you've done now?"

"Racing Commission's coming to get Dev next
week. Rest of my rehabbers are going to a stock auction week after
next. All you'll have to do is find room for the working horses and
Domingo." Sean belted back his shot and poured another. "Now, if
you don't mind, I was sitting here getting pleasantly loose when
you interrupted me."

"So you're just giving up?"

Sean looked at his brother and shrugged.
"Sure looks like it, doesn't it?"

"I ran into DC at the bar today. Came in for
lunch."

Sean downed his shot but held off on pouring
another. "He's gotta eat somewhere."

"DeVayne made a deal with the feds to hand
them the stable that was screwing you over."

"
Was
screwing?" Sean snorted and waved
a hand in the air. "Look around. Mission accomplished." He didn't
give a hoot about DeVayne. He did wonder if Mel had been spared in
the deal, but he wouldn't ask.

"I heard an interesting story from DC. Seems
the FBI asked Mel to get into DeVayne's head and persuade him to
come clean about the original fraud scheme." Ryan swirled the
brandy in his snifter.

Crap. Now he had to ask.
Sean drew a fortifying breath. "So, she made a deal, too?"
Please let her be okay, not in
trouble
. Holding his breath, he stared at
the fire again.

"She did." Ryan sipped, grunted in apparent
appreciation. "A very interesting deal as it turns out. She was
never in trouble. They just wanted her help. She only agreed to
help them turn Denny against his partners after she made sure they
were going to give you a pass on any investigation. She didn't care
what happened to her. She swore you were innocent and if they
wanted her help, you were going to be officially cleared before she
gave them anything."

Sean tore his gaze away from the dancing
flames and looked at Ryan, not certain what to make of the
information.

"Well, wasn't that nice of
her? Seeing as I
am
innocent."

"Turns out she was innocent, too."

Sean lifted a shoulder. "So she's been
saying." He contemplated pouring another drink. He wasn't even
close to drunk, and if this conversation was going to go any
further, he really wanted to be smashed.

"So her brother's now saying. Apparently,
every time she came out to visit you, he made himself scarce so she
wouldn't see him. He tried to intimidate her with threats but she
threatened him back." Ryan finished his brandy. "He swears she had
no idea he was using you to validate the fake identity of the
horse."

"Doesn't much matter, does it?" Sean poured
another shot but didn't touch it. "You're trying to put me on board
a ship that's already sailed. Mel wanted out, not me."

"Why?"

"Some lame reason." Sean laughed, though he
found no humor in the situation. "Because I didn't believe in her.
I thought she was working with her brother in order to find her
daughter."

"When did you figure out you were
wrong?"

Definitely not drunk enough for this
conversation. Sean tossed back the shot. He stared at the empty
glass. "Since about two seconds after she kicked me to the curb. I
let her down by listening to her brother, not trusting her. I
wanted to apologize. But those words . . . we've both used them so
much, I don't know if they have any meaning anymore." He shook his
head. "She won't want to hear them from me."

****

Now that Sandy was putting in a few hours on
their busiest evenings, some of the pressure was off Mel. Bertie's
friend, Tara, turned out to have waitressing experience and was a
hard worker. Things were moving in a good direction for
Valentine's, so Mel decided it was a good time for a life-changing
discussion with her partner.

Sandy looked up from the desk with her ready
smile as Mel entered the office. "How's the hand therapy
coming?"

Mel grimaced, holding up the hand that was
still wrapped in gauze. "Slow healing the one burn at the base of
the thumb. That was the worst one. The rest are good but it still
hurts to move the fingers too much." With a deep sigh, she set a
folder on the desk in front of Sandy.

"What's this?"

"These are papers to dissolve the
partnership."

Sandy's jaw dropped. She pushed away from
the desk and stood. "What? Why?"

"I've loved working with you, Sandy. But
it's time for me to leave Orson's Folly. I had Mr. Wilson draw up
these papers because I'm not coming back."

"I'll buy you out." Sandy shoved the folder
back across the desk.

"That doesn't make sense, since you gave me
the partnership free and clear." Mel pushed the folder back in
front of Sandy. "Really, you know this is the only fair thing to
do."

Sandy smiled wryly. "You're really
leaving?"

"I have to," Mel whispered. "I owe Sean
money for the Jeep, but I'll have to send it to him."

"He won't want it," said Sandy.

"Well, he'll have no choice. After he gets
it he can burn it for all I care." Mel slipped her hand into her
pocket, touched Sean's ring, pulled her hand out again.

"Don't worry, it won't be burned," said
Sandy. "The insurance is taking its time paying out. Money's going
to be tight for him."

"I'm so sorry," said Mel. "If only I'd been
more—"

Sandy made an impatient gesture. "It's not
your fault so stop going there."

Mel held up her hands in surrender.

Sandy flipped through the folder, her
forehead knit in concentration. "When do you think you'll be
leaving?"

"Week after next."

"Thanksgiving?" Sandy shook her head. "I
don't suppose you'd come out for. . ." She sighed. "I guess not.
I'm going to miss you."

The first tear rolled down Mel's cheek.
"Back atcha. You take care of that baby and Ryan, Justin, and . .
."

"I will." Sandy walked around the desk and
came to a stop in front of Mel. "Please don't go."

"I have to." Her voice shook.

"Why?" Sandy took hold of Mel's upper arms.
"I know I'm overstepping, but he's miserable, you're miserable. Why
did you break it off?"

"Because Sean forgave me for something I
didn't do . . . couldn't have done."

"Oh, Mel, can't you forgive him for being
wrong?"

"Of course I can forgive him for that. I
made a mistake and so did he." Mel sniffed. "But after I explained
what happened, he still thought I was lying. And he forgave me.
That's when I realized we're broken, Sean and me. And it can't be
fixed." Mel tried to stop the tears and ended up sobbing
uncontrollably.

Sandy pulled Mel into her embrace. "You're
not broken. You aren't! You two are just hurt—damaged. You can
still fix things."

"I did my best to make sure Sean would be
okay. That's all I can do." Mel pulled out of Sandy's arms. "I've
got to get back on the floor." She reached in her pocket again and
this time pulled out the emerald ring. "Please give this back to
him. I tried and he left it on the bar. It was his mother's."

Sandy looked at the ring and shook her head
slowly. "No. That's a line I won't cross. Can't cross. You're
making another mistake."

Chapter Twenty-One

Packing was almost too easy. Most of the
things in the apartment could be left behind. Mel always traveled
better when she kept it light. She sat on her sofa, remembering how
Sean had complained about the lumps and broken springs. The wooden
box with her most precious possessions sat on the table in front of
her. She ran her fingers over the top. It would be the last thing
she would pack. It always was.

The nausea hit at the same time someone
knocked on her door. She managed to quell the upset stomach long
enough to open the door for Sandy and a stranger.

"Excuse me a second." Mel ran for the
bathroom. Of all the inopportune times to lose her breakfast.

When she returned, Sandy was still standing
in the doorway with the stranger. Perhaps in his early thirties, he
had a sort of rugged appeal. He wasn't exceptionally tall for a man
but he looked very broad and muscular. His face was on the wrong
side of a shave but his nut-brown hair was military-short. He had
an easy smile, showing lots of even white teeth, but though it
reached his eyes, they didn't quite light with the happiness equal
to his smile.

"This is Luke Corbett," said Sandy.

Luke extended a hand and Mel took it for the
introductory handshake. His grip was firm, his hands warm and
dry.

"Hello." Curious, Mel glanced at Sandy.

"Mr. Corbett has made an offer for
Valentine's." Sandy regarded Mel with a speculative gleam in her
eyes.

"Oh, so I guess you'll want to look around
up here." Mel kicked a partially packed box aside. "Sorry about the
mess. I'm in the middle of packing up."

"Actually, I brought Mr. Corbett up here to
meet you. As one of the partners, you have to approve the
sale."

Mel's eyes flashed to Sandy's in surprise.
"But the papers I left for you. . ."

"I tore them up." Sandy shrugged. "This is
the right move for me now. I can spend time with Bethany, working
on the ranch. I'm still making an amazing profit on my initial
investment. Since we're selling, it didn't make sense to dissolve
the partnership. It'll be gone automatically when we close."

"When will we be closing?"

"We were hoping for the day after tomorrow.
You'll be around for that long, won't you?"

Mel surveyed Sandy in silence. She supposed
it wouldn't matter if the partnership was dissolved before the sale
or not. Once the sale was completed, she would simply hand the
money back.

Sandy smiled. "We'll discuss the particulars
later, but trust me, you aren't walking away from here with less
than your share."

"Fine, I'll mail that to Sean, too. He can
invest it in his business."

Sandy shook her head. "Racing Commission's
coming out to pick up Dev tomorrow afternoon. Next week, he's
shipping his rehabbed horses to auction. He's done. And I don't
think he's going to change his mind."

Mel's breath caught. "Lacey?"

Sandy nodded. "She's on the list to be
sold."

****

It was getting easier to watch the flames
eat their way through the logs when he added them. The hiss of the
fire no longer sounded evil. He didn't hear the shrieks of the
horses. But if he closed his eyes, he still saw that collapsing
roof falling behind him and Mel.

He poured a shot, saw the
bottle was almost empty.
Crap
. He wasn't nearly plowed enough
to get through the rest of the night. He hated switching his liquor
in mid-drunk-on.

"You can't hide out in the bottle the rest
of your life." Justin stood in the doorway. He must have drawn the
short straw tonight. Sean wished his family would just leave him to
himself.

"Not much of a bottle left to hide in
tonight anyway." Sean held up the bottle, wiggling it.

"You worry me, boy." Justin hovered near the
liquor cabinet.

"Don't. It's not necessary."

Justin pulled out a cigar, closed his eyes,
and sniffed along the length. "You're making some big decisions on
the second half of a whiskey bottle."

"Nothing other people around here haven't
done." Sean tipped the bottle up then down, watching the
amber-colored liquid slosh from end to end. "Including you, after
Mom died."

Justin inhaled sharply. His
face was an impenetrable mask except for his eyes. They registered
deep pain.
Great. Now you know for sure
your son's a jerk, old man, so maybe you'll leave him
alone
.

But Justin held his ground. "Not really the
same thing, is it? Your girl's alive and well." He stuck the cigar
in his mouth and lit it. "Leaving town day after tomorrow,
though."

"Good."

"Good, huh? So you're really just going to
let her go."

Sean laughed. "You seem to be under the
impression I have some way of keeping her here."

"You're a bullheaded mule. I
guess you get that from me." Justin shook his head. "You know all
she needs is for you to admit you were wrong about her." He locked
his steely blue gaze on Sean. "And you
were
wrong. She's still under the
impression you hate her because you think she burned down the
stables."

Sean lifted a shoulder. "Welcome to your
son's messed up life." He raised his glass in a toast. "Enjoy the
show or leave me in peace. It's up to you."

Justin's laugh was harsh,
his voice even more so as he spat a curse. "If you call this peace,
boy, then you
are
all kinds of messed up."

Sean stared open-mouthed at his father,
startled by the words as much as the tone.

"What's the matter, boy? Think you're the
only one who can get drunk and curse? Think you're the first man in
the family to push those he loves away out of a twisted sense of
pride? Think again. And get your head out of the bottle before you
find yourself permanently at the bottom of one." The old man raked
a disgusted look over Sean, then turned and left the room with a
shake of his head.

Masculine voices suddenly
filtered in from the kitchen, interrupting the normal evening
quiet. Sean thought he heard his name.
Oh,
crap
. They weren't planning some kind of
intervention, were they?