Heart of Grace (Return to Grace Trilogy #1) (6 page)

considerably, but his eyes still danced in the manner of a man
who could either shoo a girl away or welcome her with open
arms. It was the latter he greeted her with today. He removed
thick black gloves, stuffed them into his back pocket, and then
wrapped his arms around her.
“I saw Cole this morning. He mentioned you were back.
You look good, Angie.” Reed released her. “A fine woman
you’ve grown into. How are you?”
Angela laughed. “That’s a long story, I’m afraid.
“I’m up for hearing it.”
“I’m not up for telling it.” She smiled to soften the harsh
tone of her voice.
He nodded. “You were like that as a child, too, you know.
Always bent on living life all alone inside that head of yours.”
Angela scanned the arena again, needing to remove herself
from Reed’s studying eye. “This place hasn’t changed a bit. A
little more run down than I remember.”
“Part of her charm. Not as many folks come to see her as
they used to.”
She took step alongside him, the dirt soft beneath her
heels, and waited for the question she knew would come.
“So you’ve come back to claim this, have you?”
She smiled. If Reed was anything, he was predictable.
“There’s not much to claim,” she said.
Reed stopped and squinted. “Yeah, well, we’ve known that
for some time. She had a good run, though.”
“The drilling coalition wants the land.”
Reed stopped walking and his eyes went dark. “Henry’s
been selling off pieces of this land to those no-gooders for
years. If it weren’t for Cole buying up the last bit, we’d be
standing beneath an oil rig right now.”
“I’ve decided to sell my half to them. I’ve urged Cole to do
the same with his half.”
He looked at her the same way Cole had earlier.
“They’ll get it anyway,” she said. “You know that.”
“I’ll admit she’s got only a breath or two of life left in her.”
He took a strong breath let it out shakily. “But don’t sell it to
the coalition, Angie. Anybody but them.”
“They’re the only willing buyers. The place isn’t worth
anything to anyone else. Not even the land will draw another
buyer, since the coalition owns every parcel surrounding this
place.”
The arena was quiet now, but the steady din of a summer
crowd rang in her ears. She heard the laughter of children and
the snorts of bulls; the announcers’ voices echoing through
speakers hanging from the rafters.
And she saw herself: eight years old standing next to Reed
in the announcer’s stand, and then at sixteen, when Buddy
Harper tried to steal a kiss beneath the stands. She’d been more
interested in watching the action in the ring.
She thought of the moment when, years later in New York,
she had won her first account on her own, and how she’d
equated the victory to that of a bull rider’s. She had stood in
the conference room as a cowboy settles onto the beast’s back.
All she had to do was hang on through the terror, until she felt
the weight of the trophy in her hands.
After a while, the victories were more easily won, the gleam
of the trophy no longer a thrill.
She thought of Jeffrey’s disdain as he took away her
apartment; her
sanctuary.
It had been the last piece of the trophy
she still cherished.
Angela looked up at the rafters, its wood splintered and
the paint chipped. It reminded her of the first time she had met
Marco Salzman. Salzman and Sons Bakery had been on the
verge of bankruptcy; Marco hadn’t been able to afford even a
can of paint to fix the peeling sign out front. She had spent
days poring over his accounts, searching for ways to revive the
small business. Years later and thanks to Angela’s help, they
were still thriving, with a chain of stores in each of the five
boroughs and a few in New Jersey.
Angela felt Reed’s stare. She turned to him and realized
that as much as she had changed, a lot had remained the same
in Grace. She recalled her mother’s soothing voice: “
Just focus
on something that doesn’t move, something steady.”
“Maybe there’s another option.” She let the air out of her
lungs, the weight of this decision heavy on her heart. “I might
be able to find a way to get a few more breaths into her, make
her pretty enough to attract another buyer.”
Reed’s eyes lit up. He looked at her as though she were a
saint. Angela stifled the urge to squirm. She could choose to
view her decision as a call to action; a purpose she was
determined to fulfil. But she knew she was just a coward, still
terrified of going home.
Six

She found Cole behind the house, in a field swinging an ax
beneath the harsh glare of sunlight. He was cutting logs on a
tree stump, the resonating whap and thump of the blade
matching the rhythm of her steps as she neared him.

He had removed the sling, his arm still bound in a cast
from biceps to knuckles. Sweat dripped down his face and
chest. He noticed her in mid-swing and did a double-take,
missing the log. The ax connected sharply with the tree stump.
He let out a harsh exclamation – something about donkey
brains – and pulled his injured arm against his ribs. His eyes
raised to her, his breath heavy and uneven.

“Why chop so much firewood in summer?” she asked.
“Stockpiling. I imagine I’ll need it come October.” Cole
removed his hat and wiped sweat from his face with a
handkerchief. He picked up the pieces of wood he had just cut
and tossed them into the woodpile. “I lost this oak a few weeks
back. Might as well make use of it. Don’t you have a plane to
catch?”
“I’m staying.”
“Say that again?” He squinted and leaned toward her.
“I’m staying.”
Cole smirked and tucked the handkerchief into his back
pocket. He put his hat back on and looked her straight in the
eye. “Why the change of heart?”
Why
? It was a simple question with too many answers.
Overwhelmed, Angela looked toward the endless sky and
considered letting her resolve fall away. If she let it fall, if it was
her
choice to let go for just a moment, she could still to pick up
the pieces again.
She chose to hold on.
“Three months,” she said. “I’ll give you three months.
That’ll get us through the summer circuit season and the pro
event. Come September, I’ll be gone. No matter what. But I’ll
do what I can to help bring the arena into the black before I
go. And I’ll be selling my half for a profit. That’s my
motivation, Cole. Nothing else.”
He dropped the ax. “What about New York? Don’t you
have a job? A life?”
She closed her eyes tightly. It was too late to stop the tears
that ran down her cheeks. They were cold against the summer
heat on her skin. He reached for her. She stepped way.
“New York will go on fine without me for a bit.” She
wiped the tears with the heels of her hands. “But it’s none of
your concern. I’ll be your business partner, and I’ll do what I
can to bring the arena back. Not for you, nor my father. For
me. And that’s the end of it.”
“Alright. Come on into the house, then. We have details to
work out.”
She nodded and followed him inside.
****
They spent the next hour talking business in his den,
strategizing and breaking up responsibilities. Angie sat on the
edge of the desk, among the papers they’d spread out over it.
Cole sat in the chair and looked up at her.
Her
tears
had
dried,
replaced
with
a
spark
of
determination.
He knew this situation was misery for her, but it worked
out great for him. If Angie stayed and took care of the arena,
he’d have his old arrangement back. He could return to rodeo
when his arm healed and barely skip a beat.
He had reminded himself of that many times over the last
hour, but he knew it was much more complicated. He was
worried for her. Worried for them both.
Shoot
. He pushed away from the desk.
“I think that about covers it for today.” Cole gathered up
papers and slid them into a drawer. “We’ll drive ourselves nuts
trying to figure it all out.”
Angie looked away and slid off the desk. He wondered if
she knew he wasn’t just talking about the arena.
“I ask just one thing,” he said.
She snapped her gaze to him.
“Don’t look so suspicious,” he laughed.
“The last time you said ‘I ask just one thing’ you talked me
into helping you muck stalls, and in exchange you let me ride
your horse for ten minutes. It was not worth it. So don’t count
on it this time.”
“You never figured out I had an ulterior motive to all
that?”
“Of course I did,” she said, “if you finished your chores,
your dad would let you take Amy Bedley to the Brooks and
Dunn concert in Missoula.”
“That wasn’t the only reason,” Cole muttered, thinking of
Angie in her Wranglers and red boots, doing his chores
because she’d wanted to spend time with him. He’d known she
had a crush on him, and he’d been more than willing to exploit
it for his own selfish purposes. Even so, he’d liked the look of
her in those jeans.
She frowned. “So what is your ‘one thing’?”
He paused for a moment, considering his words. “Let me
have a say in who buys your shares at the end of the summer.
If I say ‘no’ to your choice, then no deal. No arguing. No
negotiating. And the coalition’s deal is off the table.”
“Fair enough. When the summer is over and I sell my half,”
she said confidently, “you’ll have a say in who buys it. Of
course, I trust you’ll be reasonable.”
“Of course.”
“We’ll have Mr. Bradley draw up an agreement if that
makes you feel more comfortable.”
“This isn’t New York, Angie. I trust you.” He stood and
held his hand out. “Partners?”
“Partners.” She shook his hand, her smile turning into a
cynical laugh. “Who’d have thought you and I would ever be
partners?”
“Who’d’ve thought me and Henry would be partners?”
She looked away, but not before he saw the spark of anger
flash across her face.
“Angie, can I ask you one more thing?”
“You said you just had one question.”
“Just one more.” He leaned forward, questioning his own
motives. “Will you stay in my guest house?”
“I’m staying at the hotel. It’s already arranged.”
“For three months?”
“I’ll manage.”
Cole shrugged. “If I were you I’d want more of a home.”
“Three months isn’t that long.”
“Still, I think you ought to stay in the guest house.”
Angie shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t convenient.” Her voice rose. “If I stayed in town
I could more closely oversee the office there.”
“Living in a hotel room is less convenient than having to
drive a few minutes to getto work.”
“The hotel can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not what you are used to.”
“You don’t know anything about what I’m used to.”
Cole sat down again and leaned back in his chair, arms
crossed over his chest. He ran his tongue between his bottom
teeth and lower lip, then smiled. “Look at you, Angie.”
“My name is Angela.”
“Fine…Angela. Look at your fancy suit and your fancy
hair. All that makeup.”
“My job requires that I dress this way.” She fisted her
hands at her side.
“Does it? Since when does mucking stalls and ordering
horse feed require a two thousand dollar suit?”
She only stared at him.
“You aren’t a New York tycoon now,” he said. “You’re
going to be working a rodeo arena. Have you really thought
about what it will involve?”
“My parents owned that arena most of my life.” She
straightened her shoulders, eyes seething. “Of course I know
what it involves. And quit calling me a tycoon. You make me
sound like a little old man with a monocle.”
“I need to know you’ll hold your own.” He made an effort
to soften his voice. “I can’t have you screaming when you see
a bug or crying when you get dirt on your fancy shoes.”
She started to speak, but he interrupted her.
“And I don’t want to listen to you whine about having to
sleep on a hotel mattress for three months. And how are you
going to eat?” He gestured east, toward town. “The hotels in
Grace don’t have room service. Let me make this a little easier
for you, Angie…Angela.”
“Maybe I can find a house to rent.” She lifted a shoulder,
considering.
“Isn’t that what I’m offering?” he asked. “But I won’t take
money from you. You never have to see me when you’re there,
if you don’t want to. The house has its own kitchen, although
you are always welcome to eat here. Only one bedroom, but
it’s fully furnished.”
“You want to keep an eye on me.”
“I want to know you are taken care of.”
Angie walked toward him, her steps tentative. Living close
together could be dangerous for them both. He shouldn’t have
invited this complication, but there it was, thick between them
like a tangible thing he could grab.
“You want to know I’m taken care of, yet you don’t want
to do any of the dirty work, is that it?” she asked, her voice
slipping into a teasing drawl. “You’ll give me a roof, but you
won’t kill bugs for me?”
He knew he’d lost the fight, even if Angie did concede to
his request. “I think you’re going to be very difficult to work
with.”
“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy,” she replied easily,
scooping up her purse. “I’ll be staying in your guest house and
I thank you. I’m going into town, but I’ll be back this evening
to settle in. And no worries, I can kill my own bugs. I’m good
at getting rid of things that annoy me.”
Her pointed look as she walked to the door drew out
another laugh from him. She turned back just before shutting
the door behind her and said, “thank you, Cole.”
****
Angela awoke the next morning and rolled onto her
stomach, burying her face into the pillow. She inhaled the scent
of fresh linen and lemon and wondered when her alarm was
going to go off, or if she’d missed it entirely.
Her eyes shot open and she flopped onto her back. She
hadn’t set the alarm.
Montana.
She was still in Montana.
Waves of nausea rippled in her gut. Sunlight streamed
through sheer curtains, casting shadows across the wood slats
of the guesthouse ceiling. Angela exhaled sharply and stood
from bed. She wandered to the window and slid the curtains
aside.
Dew sparkled across the grass. As a child she had fancied
the dew as a million diamonds tossed across the field. Perhaps
God had left those jewels just for her and she had only to
scoop up the treasure before they melted away. But it always
turned out to be just water, easily evaporated into the heat. She
had asked God to save her, but he seemed more interested in
taunting her.
She hadn’t seen dew in a very long time, nor that vastness
of green that stretched until it faded into the haze of the
horizon. The landscape hadn’t changed, but the little girl who
once lived here had. Her father hadn’t killed her, in spite of the
many times she had hoped he would. A woman had emerged
from the pain. And with a woman’s wisdom she turned from
the window and shut away the wistful thoughts, going about
the task of unpacking her suitcase and preparing for the day.
Grateful she had thought to pack her workout clothes and
yoga mat, Angela unrolled the mat and flicked it onto the living
room floor. A little bit of yoga, followed by a warm cup of
coffee, might just set her equilibrium right.
She stretched and bent, recalling the moves her instructor
usually guided her through. She had built up a fairly good sweat
when a knock at the door jolted her out of a balancing pose.
She stumbled, grabbed her bottle of water from the coffee
table, and answered the door.
Cole stood on her doorstep in full cowboy gear: hat, boots,
the whole bit. She remembered him as a ten-year-old boy
dressed nearly the same, but with a bright red gun holster and
a hat with a string cinched beneath his chin.
He had pulled her hair while wearing that silly hat, and once
he had tied her to a tree during a game of “Cowboys and
Indians.” He’d left her there until after supper.
Cole grinned and handed her a steaming cup of coffee,
taking a sip from his own.
Angela took the mug, thanked him, and shut the door
slightly, angling her body behind it. He didn’t take the hint.
Before she could utter another word he was through the entry
and making his way to the couch.
“Did you sleep well?” he settled down and propped his feet
on the coffee table.
She stayed standing. “Well enough.”
Cole watched her with such intent in his eyes she wanted
to squirm.
“What?”
“You,” Cole said with a teasing laugh. “I expected you to
answer the door all dolled up in one of your fancy suits.”
Angela sniffed and sipped her coffee. “Well, I don’t keep
myself fitting into those fancy suits without a little work. I was
exercising. What are you doing here? I thought we were taking
the weekend off.”
“We are. I’m just checking on you,” he said. “We still do
that sort of thing ‘round here. Do you need anything?”
“You mean besides a plane ticket out of here? Or a mental
examination for staying?” She rolled her eyes. “Not a thing.”
“Good.” He rose. “I’ll be in town for most of the day. Mrs.
Hammerby has a broken porch step I promised to fix and she’ll
probably have a half dozen other projects while I’m there. And
she’ll make me stay for tea as a way of saying ‘thank you.’ After
that I’ll be headed to the arena to check on the cleanup from
last night’s circuit.”
“You don’t need to tell me your schedule.” She opened the
door.
“I know.” He smiled and tipped his hat. “Good day,
Angie.”
Dread filled her to the brim as she watched him leave. She
had two full days with nothing to do. Sipping her coffee, she
looked at her briefcase propped against the wall on the other
side of the room. She’d brought work from the job she had
quit, a habit.
Angela set her coffee down without finishing it and
prepared to get to work.
****
The coffee shop in town was in the same place it had
always been, on Main along the wooden boardwalk. The spot
had once been a saloon. It had been modernized over the years,
but maintained many of the same rustic features of aged wood
and leather. It still smelled of smoke and whiskey. A menu
behind the bar boasted a surprisingly diverse selection of
coffees. It was not what she was used to, but Angela was
pleased to discover she’d at least be able to order a latte.
She was equally pleased when she sat at a corner table and
powered up her notebook computer. The coffee shop had
wireless Internet.
“I guess some things have changed,” Angela muttered
under breath. She sipped her latte and winced at the taste of
burned coffee drowned in sour milk. And some things, she
mused, have not.
She worked until past noon, sitting unnoticed in the little
coffee shop. It was not uncommon for tourists to frequent the
area during the summer rodeo season, and so most passed her
by without a single thought. Besides, few would see the girl
they remembered in the businesswoman who sat there now,
staring at a computer screen.
She was not surprised when Jeffrey’s instant message
popped up on her screen. She had known he would notice she
was online.
“I have some questions about the Johnson account,” the
message stated.
“I’m working on my accounts now to get them to a point
where someone else can handle them. I’ll send everything
when it’s ready.” She read over the statement three times
before hitting “send.”