Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) (4 page)

“Hello.” She nodded to the group. The men muttered their
hellos and then returned to their meals. Spoons clattered
against the bottom of bowls, their voices slowly picking up
again.
The storm trembled beyond the walls. Lights flickered, but
her dinner companions were too intent on their suppers to
notice the storm.
“Not hungry?” the boy to her left asked between scoops
of food.
“No, I ate already.”
“Miss Nadine’s stew is real good,” he urged. “Take a taste.”
How absurd it was to be sitting at this table with these
rednecks talking about stew! She frowned at Cole.
The man sitting next to Cole said “so, you got a girl? Right
on, been a while.”
“Hey, Cole,” said another man, “you pick her up in
Cheyenne? Heard them Wyoming girls are classy these days.”
“Maybe she was his nurse,” a man further down the table
said, letting out a hoot. “Looks like old Cole’s back on top,
busted arm and all.”
“You got any friends in Wyoming, sweetie?” Another hand
said as the others broke out into snickering laughter. “We all
could use some tending to.”
The boy to her left –
James? Jeremy?
– said, “Nah, she’s not
Wyoming. She’s classy, and that pretty suit of hers has gotta
cost a pretty penny. So I’d wager she’s from L.A. or New
York.”
“Enough, Jeremy. All of you,” Cole said evenly. “She's
Henry’s girl.”
The men quieted and diverted their gazes. She wasn’t sure
if they were embarrassed for themselves or for her. Being the
daughter of Henry Donnelly said all that needed to be said.
There was little doubt that her troubles in Grace had become
one of those anecdotes that never really went away.
Jeremy muttered, “Didn’t mean no disrespect, miss.”
Angela stood. “It was nice meeting all of you,” she said
politely.
Cole shoved his plate away and followed her into the
kitchen.
She picked up her shoes, intending to clean the clumps of
dirt off the stiletto heels, but Cole took them from her, tossed
them to the tile floor and grabbed her hand.
He led her into the study and slid the door closed behind
them.
“Sorry, about them, they live out in the ranch quarters and
don’t get into town much when it’s busiest in the summer.
They don’t get to see many women, except for Nadine, and she
mostly gives them a hard time.”
“Well,” Angela said, uncomfortably aware of her bare feet,
“I suppose they had that stored up, then. Glad I was able to
provide the evening’s entertainment.”
Lightning flashed and thunder growled. The wash would
flood. If she didn’t leave soon it would be impassable.
“It can’t be easy, Angie, coming back here like this,” Cole
said. “There’ll be more of what you got out there. When people
find out you’re back-”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not back,” Angela said
impatiently, thinking she would have sold everything she
owned just to have her shoes on her feet at that moment. “We
need to talk about the arena. Twice I tried to bring it up and
you avoided it. Why?”
Cole sat in the leather gentleman’s chair beside the desk.
The room was sparse, the walls painted a deep brown. This
was a man’s den. It had belonged to Doug.
“You come here with your briefcase and your fancy
clothes. And you want business with me. It can’t be avoided. I
know that.”
Cole jerked to standing. He had taken the cowboy hat off
as soon as they’d come inside. He still wore the boots and
worn-out Wranglers he’d had on earlier that afternoon. His
hair was the color of a walnut, left untamed to fall carelessly
against his collar, and wetted from the rain so that tufts stuck
out. The cut of his jeans were tight against a bottom sculpted
by the horses he rode, the pant legs bunching up at the ankle
to allow extra room for his boots.
He turned to look out the window at the storm. Angela
took a deep breath and spoke to his back, knowing it made her
a coward. “My father left me the arena in his will.”
Cole turned. “He didn’t leave it all to you.”
“I know he owned half.” She paused and tugged at her
jacket. “I need the names of all the stockholders. I hold the
largest share of stock, so I am entitled to those names,” she
added, sensing his disagreement. “I assume you also own stock.
That, in conjunction with the fact that you run the arena, is
why I’ve chosen to come straight to you, before I deal with my
father’s attorney. I do intend to sell it, whether in whole or in
part.”
Satisfied her speech was logical, Angela stepped back.
Cole’s eyes darkened.
“Are you a good businesswoman?” he asked after a
moment. “Does that thing you do with your voice work for
your customers?”
“Clients,” Angela corrected. “And yes, as a matter of fact,
it works quite well. It’s called a business demeanor.”
“What did you expect it to do for me?” Cole asked coolly.
“Did you think it’d placate me into letting you sell off my
arena?”
“It’s my arena and I can do withit as I please.”
His eyes widened.
Angela glanced out the window. An explosion of lightning
split the sky. The crackle of thunder followed. While the rain
in New York smeared all the dirty colors together, Montana
rain brought out the colors. Even the greens and browns
seemed florescent. Dahlia bushes and wisteria vines lent bright
splashes of pink, white and blue to a scene that could have
been born from a painter’s pallet. She turned back to Cole.
“I have been made aware through my father’s attorney that
he sold off fifty percent of his stock.” She heightened the
business-like tone, smirking a bit when he rewarded her with a
scowl. “I’m meeting with the attorney tomorrow to get the
details.”
“There’ll be no one willing to buy it, Angie. The arena
hasn’t turned a profit in more than five years.”
“I understand the arena’s in poor shape financially. That’ll
make things difficult, but not impossible. I’m sure I can find
an investor or two willing to-”
“If you’ve already decided what you’re going to do, why
come to me about all of this?” Cole asked.
“The attorney told me very little over the phone. I didn’t
know you managed the arena until I got here. I was surprised.”
Surprised you would work for Henry after all that happened
. “I want to
work with you, make you a part of the process, rather than
doing this without your cooperation.” She took a step toward
him, her voice going as soft as his eyes were hard. “The arena
was important to me at one time, too.”
“And now?”
She looked over his shoulder at the dark storm clouds. The
rain fell hard and steady; it would probably last through the
night. Storms often lingered in Grace. “Now is now, and the
past is the past,” she said simply, her voice losing the last
remnants of a businesslike edge. “I do intend to sell it.”
“Well, there you may have a problem on your hands.”
“There isn’t much you can do about it, Cole. Once I get
the list of stockholders – and I will get that list – I will begin
this process,” she said sternly, her back up and ready for
debate.
“Oh, I’ll give you the list myself.” He lifted his chin,
prepared to defend what was his. “It begins and ends with me,
darlin’.”
Four

Angela
stared at him rigidly
for
three
full seconds.
“Partners? You and Henry were
partners
?”
“About eight years ago your daddy did much the same
thing you wanna to do,” Cole explained. “He broke up his
stock, fixing to sell most of it off, keeping just enough to collect
the dividends. He wanted the money from it, not any real
control. I couldn’t let that control go to corporate types – no
offense – or worse, to the oil coalition. They’ve been after that
land for decades and Henry didn’t care much about what
they’d do to this town if they got their greedy mitts on it. So I
bought half of the shares. It forced a partnership. He didn’t
want me to have control, at least not unless he had some too.
He always hated me and he’d’ve skinned his own hide to keep
me from taking it.”
She stood in gridlock, unable to form her thoughts into
words. The ice that had been in his eyes just moments earlier
melted into amusement. He strolled to the desk and pulled a
document out of the drawer.
She took the partnership agreement from him. He leaned
close enough for her to take in his scent. She had expected him
to stink like the ranch hands had stunk, but he smelled of fresh
dirt and hay after a rain. She allowed herself the luxury of
looking up from the papers and into his eyes, and instantly
wished she hadn’t. Her betraying heart thumped three beats
hard and fast against her ribs.
“Are you wanting me to buy your half?” he asked.
Relief and despair, and a
thousand other emotions
threatened to submerge her. Before she could decide which
one held the most credence, she caught the apology in his eyes.
“Something tells me it won’t be that easy.”
“The thing is, I’m using all I have to keep both the ranch
and the arena going day by day.” Cole sighed. “If it wasn’t for
my rodeo winnings they’d both be sunk. I got nothing extra,
Angie. I can’t afford to buy your half.”
“Of course not, heaven forbid this godforsaken task
should be easy.” She pursed her lips and finished flipping
through the agreement, then handed the papers back to him.
“It looks like a fairly basic agreement. I’ve seen this before. I’ll
need a copy of the financials for the last five years and we’ll
have to get an appraisal. I’d like to see what can be done to
increase its perceived value, if not the actual value, to make it
more desirable to investors.”
“I never would have thought it,” Cole said quietly. He
brushed a section of hair behind her ear. Her skin warmed at
his touch. “Shy and reserved little Angie is now a New York
tycoon.”
She took his hand, either to stop him from touching her
again, or to keep him there –she wasn’t sure which, but she
knew it was a test for them both. The heat flared in his eyes,
turning them as dark as the storm clouds outside. His hand
tightened its hold on hers and she felt the pulse scrambling
beneath his skin.
A strand of panic shot through her. She pushed away, her
breath shallow.
Cole sucked in a sharp breath and stepped back.
“I’m not sure what arrangements you and my father
made,” Angela began as she moved toward the door.
“However, you can be assured that I have no wish to enter into
a partnership with you, Cole.” She stopped and turned in the
doorway. “
Any
type of partnership.”
“Angie.” He followed her through the house. She collected
her shoes and her briefcase, and then walked out the door to
the front porch, where he caught up to her and pulled her
around harshly.
“I’m sorry.” The gentle words betrayed his abrasive hold
on her arm.
Angela watched his eyes as they searched her face. The
deep blue softened degree by degree. He eased his grip and
stepped back.
“I have to go.”
Cole looked through the pouring rain. “That may be a bit
of a problem.”
“I’m not going to stand here arguing with you.”
“Are we arguing?” He frowned. “The wash is probably
flooded by now. No passage.”
Angela turned sharply and she saw that, indeed, the
driveway was practically swallowing her car. A river flowed
beyond it, reaching across the road and toward the wash. “I
don’t suppose you have a boat I can borrow?”
“No, sorry.” Cole led her into the house and closed the
door, muffling the sound of the battering rain.
“You may not want to be partners, Angie. But it looks like
we’re roommates for the night.” He shrugged. “No way
around that.”
“If you hadn’t avoided our conversation,” she said, letting
the bite into her voice, “I’d have gotten out of here before the
storm hit.”
“What’s the rush? This isn’t New York, Angie.”
“I shouldn’t have come.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
“Why?”
His gaze shifted to her lips.
Memories streamed in of a summer afternoon by the pond,
cicadas chirping in the trees and tiny bugs dancing on the
surface of the water. She and Cole, both seventeen, had stood
at the edge of the old dock, the same distance apart as they
stood now. He had kissed her amidst the filtered sunlight, his
lips warm and his hand at her jaw. For a moment it had been a
dream come true. After years of chasing the boy, she had finally
ended up in his arms. But then he had pulled away and the
warmth in his eyes faded. He’d stared at her coldly, as if she
were the vilest thing he had ever touched.
He lifted his eyes to hers now. “I’ll offer you a warm bed
and a roof for the night, some breakfast in the morning. As a
friend to a friend. We’ll leave the rest for later.”
Angela watched him walk away, her stomach weightless.
Her lips trembled when she drew in a breath. She had not
planned to see him, and she certainly did not want to involve
herself with him, nor to remember the things that had
happened a lifetime ago. Closing her eyes as the thunder
rumbled, she thought of the river of water blocking her retreat.
She wondered if heaven was having a laugh at her expense.
****
Mist from last night’s storm hung low over the
mountaintops, trapping Grace in merciless humidity. Cole
stood in the kitchen nook, the windows thrown wide open.
The horses grazed greedily on wet grass. He watched his sable
mare, her glossy flanks and black mane glistening in streaks of
sunlight breaking through the clouds. She had been sold to a
rancher in Texas, and he felt the pride well in his chest. Soon
he would have to say goodbye. That was the hardest part.
A breeze wafted into the kitchen, carrying the scents of the
ranch: wet grass, dirt and manure. It mingled with the aroma
of fried eggs and bacon, reminding him of childhood. Some
days he had come downstairs with a rumbling tummy, only to
find Angie seated at the table. Rather than share a meal with
her, he had chosen to go out to the horses, pretending he
hadn’t been hungry after all.
Cole’s injured arm ached from the humidity. He ignored
the pain and mulled over the details of the day. He would stay
in Grace to deal with his land and the arena until the injury
healed and the craving to compete consumed him again; then
he’d be gone. He only hoped the craving would not precede
the healing. Restlessness had a way of making a man forget
himself.
He heard Angie’s high heels click on the tiled floor before
she entered the kitchen. She wore another suit, this one fresh
and unwrinkled. She had pulled her hair into a long low
ponytail; her gray-green eyes smudged with dark shadow and
eyeliner.
She
was
haunting;
a
leaner,
sharper,
more
sophisticated version of the awkward girl he had known. He
couldn’t decide whether he wanted to draw her into his arms
or make her wipe off all that makeup so he could see her
freckles. Maybe both.
“Breakfast?” he asked.
“No, but thank you anyway.” She moved to the cupboard
to take down two coffee mugs, remembering where they had
always been. “I’ll just have some coffee, have you had yours
yet?”
“Not yet. Pot’s fresh brewed.”
Nodding, Angie poured each of their cups and handed
Cole’s to him. “Still like it black?” she asked.
“Yep.” He smiled over the rim and took that first strong
sip. It was such a simple thing for her to pour his coffee, but
he knew by the tremble of her hand that it cost her plenty to
appear so at ease.
“Some storm last night,” Cole said.
She offered a nod in agreement and wrapped her hands
around the warm mug.
“Angie,” he sighed. “I know this can’t be easy, coming
back. But Henry’s dead.”
She set the mug on the counter and met his eyes briefly
before shifting to look over his shoulder. He wondered if she
knew the emotions she had allowed him to view in that single
glance.
“That’s what the death certificate says,” she said at last.
Not fooled by the coolness of her statement, Cole set
down his coffee. He kept his distance when she pulled out a
cell phone and tried to use it, not at all surprised when she
turned it off and sighed.
“It’ll work in town, but the tower doesn’t reach out this
way.”
“I see Grace is still as backwards as ever,” Angie muttered,
tossing the phone back into her briefcase.
Cole shrugged and stepped closer. He caught the faint
smell of expensive perfume. It didn’t suit her. Nothing about
Angela suited the Angie he had once known.
She picked up the house phone.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She lifted the receiver to her ear. “Trying to find out if the
roads are clear yet.”
Cole took the receiver from her and gently returned it to
the cradle. “It’s passable. Oliver and I checked it out this
morning.”
“Oliver? You still have him? He was just a colt when I left.”
“Not much changes ‘round here, Ang. Just grows a bit.”
“That is obvious.” She offered a sly smirk that he imagined
had driven many a business man to his knees, and then she
shouldered her briefcase as she moved toward the door.
Cole glanced at the kitchen clock. “Where’re you going?”
“Mr. Bradley’s office. I’ll notify you once I have all the
details and we’ll go from there.”
“It’s a bit early for a meeting, isn’t it?”
“I’ve some errands to run.”
“Or maybe some ghosts to chase?”
“Perhaps.”
Cole sighed. “The house is gone.”
“Oh.”
“He sold it to me a few years back and moved to town. I
had a need for the land, not the house,” he said, “so I had it
leveled. The thing should have been condemned, anyway. I
thought your brother might have told you, but going by that
look, I’m guessing he didn’t.”
“Michael and I don’t talk much. It doesn’t matter. So the
house is gone.” She shrugged. “Most of my happy memories
came from here, from your father. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to
his funeral.”
“He would have known you’d stay away.”
“Cole-”
“He’d’ve wanted you to say goodbye.” Cole hooked his
thumbs in his belt loop and looked to the ceiling, letting
frustration and anger simmer. “After all the time he spent with
you, and you couldn’t even pay your last respects.”
“I couldn’t come back.” Angela looked away.
“Yet, here you are. I suppose when there’s profit to be had
it makes chasing those ghosts a bit easier.”
She pressed her lips together and looked away.
“You didn’t even say goodbye when you left Grace,” he
said. “To any of us. You just walked away.”
“Don’t you dare judge me, Cole.” She snapped her gaze to
him, her eyes red with unshed tears. “You knew why I had to
leave. And Doug knew it, too.”
She turned and started out of the kitchen.
“Angie,” he said, forcing his voice to soften.
She stopped, but refused to turn around.
“He didn’t know what it was like for you until it was too
late to help.”
“No one knew. Isn’t that right? Not even you?”
He kept quiet. There was nothing to say; the accusation in
her eyes said it all.
“I’ll be in touch after my meeting,” she said coldly and
walked out of the kitchen.
Cole didn’t move until he heard the front door close.
****
Angela stood where her father’s house used to be and
wondered how many times she had awoken to mornings like
this. Wind riffled the treetops, yet the air at ground level stilled,
enveloping the land in a suffocating wet blanket.
She paced in a circle and mused on the irony of the
situation. That house had been his castle, and he had been king.
He said he would always be king. Now he and the house were
gone; even the foundation had been removed and the grass had
already grown back over the tilled earth. It marked out a
perfect square, the grass here softer than the rest of the lot, like
the land over a recently dug grave.
Like a grave, it served as a marker for the memories. They
paced the forgotten land, banshees screaming all around her.
When Angela started to remember, she looked toward the
mountains on the horizon, as her mother had taught her to do
when she had been prone to car sickness. “
Just focus on something
that doesn’t move; something steady
.” When she thought she had
escaped, and despite all her efforts at control, the memories
crept in, anyway.
Angela closed her eyes and shuddered.
His breath stunk. The way it always did when he drank from the
brown bottle. Mama was at the stove, her back turned, the apron tied
above her rump in a messy bow. Angie ran, knowing there was nowhere
to go. She just had to run. She had to try. She called for Mama as she
bolted up the stairs, but Mama never came. She ran into her room and
shrank into a corner. Papa barreled through the door. He yanked her up
by the arm and he smiled. But she knew he wasn’t happy. His eyes were
mad. She recoiled, bracing for the blow…
A car drove by. Angela sucked in a greedy breath, grateful
to be pulled from her reverie. It had been years since she let
herself remember these things. They usually came to her in
dreams, but as whispers that she could never recall in detail
upon waking. This was too close.
Too real
.
She walked off the lot and got back into her car. As she
drove away, she did what she could to convince herself that the
past was just as easily left behind.