Wildflowers from Winter (15 page)

Out of habit, he moved to help, but stopped himself. She obviously didn’t want it. So why give it? “Don’t you think you should fill me in on your plans first, seeing as they have a pretty profound effect on my future?”

Her fingers curled around the banister.

“I guess all that attention you paid Dan finally paid off.” He pushed the words between his teeth and glared at the woman standing on his staircase. “Do you want me to grab some wine, so we can toast to your newfound fortune?”

Her face paled. “I loved my grandfather.”

“Of course you did. All the time you spent with him over these past five
years, why would anyone doubt it?” His bubbling emotions got the best of him, spilling from his mouth without censor. “Two and a half million dollars. Is that the going rate for your love these days?”

Bethany tottered back on her heels, as if his words had slapped her across the face. When she steadied herself, her eyes narrowed into slits. “Think what you want. I loved Dan. With or without this stupid farm.”

“You loved him so much that you’re going to toss away his livelihood? You loved him so much that you’re going to get rid of the gift he gave you?”

Her hand released its hold on the suitcase. It flopped, then slid down several stairs. “It’s not a gift to me,” she said, jerking her hand to her chest. “What am I supposed to do with a farm? What do you suggest I do? Buy a pair of overalls and some boots and go muck out the barn? Is that what you want from me?”

“I want you to think longer than two seconds about what you’re doing. The farm was a gift. A wonderful, amazing gift. Only you don’t have the eyes or the patience to see it. You’re not even going to look.” He ran his hand through his hair and lowered his voice. “I want you to consider—just consider—that Dan might have left you his farm for a reason.”

“I don’t have time to sit around and wait to learn whatever lesson Dan might have wanted to teach me. I have a life in Chicago.”

“I thought you weren’t working at your firm anymore.”

“How did you know that?”

“I heard you talking to your boyfriend on the phone the other day.”

“How dare you? You had no right to—”

“How dare
me
?” He took two steps closer. “I’ve busted my butt on this farm for the past five years, working by Dan’s side, being more of a grandkid to him than you ever were. And you come waltzing back to town and destroy the one thing he gives you? The one thing I’ve worked so—”

“Stop judging me!” Her voice cracked. She looked away and wiped her cheek. “I didn’t ask for the farm.”

A knife plunged into his gut. The only other time he’d made a girl cry
was in fifth grade, and guilt ate at his insides for an entire day until he broke down in tears himself and sought his classmate’s forgiveness. He might not like Bethany, but he knew better than to treat her this way.

“You think this is easy for me?” Her voice faltered. “You don’t know me. You don’t know one single thing about me.” She wiped her other cheek and grabbed for her suitcase. “I was stupid to come here.”

Her tears wrung the anger right out of him. In Drew’s office, she’d been nothing but business. But right then, shimmying her suitcase down the staircase, tears filling her doe-brown eyes, she looked like one strong wind might pick her up and blow her away. He wanted answers. He wanted to know her plans. But maybe tonight wasn’t the best night. He took a deep breath and joined her on the steps. The closer he came, the harder she tugged at the suitcase, as if nothing could be more important than getting it back down the stairs before he could help. When he reached for her luggage, she looked up with watery eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Evan took the suitcase from her hand.

“I don’t need your help.”

He shook his head. Never before had he met a woman more determined to go through life without help. He picked up her luggage and stepped around her. She protested the entire way to the guest bedroom. He set the suitcase in the doorway. “You’re welcome,” he said.

A look of pure annoyance had replaced her tears. He wiped his palms against his thighs and left Bethany at the door. They could finish this conversation tomorrow. When the weather—and their nerves—weren’t quite so tumultuous.

Bethany set the suitcase against the wall and plopped onto the bed. The rusted springs jostled her up and down. She brought her hands to her face
and rubbed circles in her eyes. How could she burst into tears in front of Evan? She pressed her palms against her hot cheeks and let out a long breath. She was losing it.

Whenever Evan was around, she couldn’t think straight. All his yo-yoing between anger and gentle made the man impossible to figure out. She flopped back against the mattress and stared at the textured ceiling.

She waited for her thoughts to calm, for her nerves to settle. She was out of the snowstorm now and away from Evan. But her mind refused to unwind, especially in light of what had just happened with Dominic. She tried to untangle her emotions, search for heartbreak or grief or a buried sadness. After three years together, she expected to find something. But her search came back empty. She could imagine it was just the thing Dr. Nowels would love to examine—her emptiness. She felt like if she probed this empty space where life with Dominic had been, she’d find something cold and callous and not at all tender. Perhaps it was better to focus on figuring out her uncertain future. She pressed her palm against her forehead.

Should she stay in Peaks? A town she’d spent the past ten years of her life ignoring? The prospect made her shudder. But what other option did she have? Sure, she could go back to Chicago for a few days until her lease expired, but then what? She’d be homeless and no closer to straightening out this mess with the farm—a mess she wanted straightened now, not in two weeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to block out her headache. And the irony. She’d spent ten years running from this place, only to find she’d run in a giant circle. She was right back where she started.

In Peaks. With a zero-dollar budget.

So where was she going to stay? Because she’d sleep on the streets before involving her mother. There was always Robin, but what right did Bethany have knocking on that door when she’d closed it herself ten years ago? She raked her fingers through her hair. Evan had made it quite clear he didn’t want her to stay here. She was lucky he hadn’t tossed her out in the snow already.

As much as it might gall her, this was his house now. He had every right to kick her out.

Bethany groaned. If she were him, she’d kick herself out. She was selling his dream, after all. But come on. Iowa was swimming in corn. Would it really matter if she sold one measly farm? With farm acreage surrounding them on every side, Evan could easily find another plot of land to work. And even if he couldn’t, she didn’t owe him anything. So he’d helped Dan over the past five years. She never asked him to. Just like she never asked Dan to give her the farm.

She sat up and leaned against the headboard. Even if she could justify selling, could she really open her own firm? Dominic’s comments nagged at her confidence, perverting her exciting plans into nothing but a big glob of self-doubt. What
did
she know about running her own business? Sure, it sounded like a great idea in theory, but would she be able to pull it off in practice? Especially in the midst of a struggling economy?

Maybe she needed to find a job with another firm. It would give her more time to shop the farm around, search for the best deals. Then, when the time came, she could invest the money until she had enough experience on the drafting board to venture out on her own. Maybe she needed to build her reputation, knowledge, and experience first, open her own firm second.

She rummaged through her suitcase for her toothbrush and peeked into the dark hallway. The last thing she needed was another encounter with Evan. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she crept down the hall and a floorboard creaked—right outside his room.

She cringed.

Part of her wanted to shout, “I’m out here, all right? So just stay in your room until I’m finished getting ready for bed.” But she kept her mouth shut and closed herself in the bathroom.

Once inside, she studied the claw-footed tub, the porcelain stained not
only with soap scum but with memories. One in particular. She shuddered. Now wasn’t the time to think about the ghosts of her past—no matter how horrible. Now was the time to think about her future.

She turned on the faucet, splashed water on her cheeks, and stared into the mirror as she dried her face with a towel.

What’s ahead, Bethany? You’ve always had everything planned out. If you can’t open your own firm right now, what lies in the immediate future?

She could freelance while she tried to sell the farm. But waiting to apply for a new job with a firm could be dangerous. For all she knew, the farm could sit on the market for months, leaving her with an undesirable gap on her résumé.

As she smothered her toothbrush in white paste, she decided to leave her options open, let the Universe have a say. She would begin searching for jobs, maybe take out an ad in some newspapers for interim freelance work, and postpone looking for an apartment until she knew where she’d be working. She wasn’t tied to Chicago. She could go anywhere. New York. Los Angeles. Maybe even out of the country. Like London, where her dreams to be an architect had solidified. And in the meantime, she would find a Realtor.

She rinsed out her mouth and hurried toward her room. Too lazy to change into pajamas, she slipped off her clothes, left them in a heap on the floor, and buried herself in bed.

As wind pushed against the house and snow danced outside her window, Bethany reached a decision. She would stay here through the holidays. She would use the two-week prison sentence to pull the pieces of her life together. By then, she’d either have a new job lined up or a land developer interested in the farm. Win-win either way.

Now all she had to do was tell Evan her plans and find a way to convince him to let her stay in his new home.

SIXTEEN

B
ethany searched through the front closet and pulled out Dan’s parka. She had to go find Evan and see if he’d be willing to let her stay a bit longer. He couldn’t be too far. Not when the temperature hovered somewhere in the teens.

Earlier that morning she’d awakened to bright shafts of sunlight filtering through the crack between the blinds and the windowsill. The ray of sun bespoke warmth and invitation, as if spring waited outside. But looks were deceiving. The temperature paid no attention to the sun. The air outside turned melting snow into knobby icicles hanging from the gutters.

She pressed her nose to the parka and inhaled the familiar scent of Dan’s tobacco until her eyes burned and she had to blink several times to soothe the stinging. She slipped it on, zipped it up, shoved her feet into Dan’s work boots, and clomped outside.

The snow came up to her knees, higher in some places. She made her trek easier by following Evan’s footsteps, which led as far as the drive. From there, they crisscrossed in a number of different directions.

She brought her hand to her forehead to block the sun and squinted at her surroundings. He had to be around here somewhere. She revolved in a slow circle, peering toward the silo and grain bins, to the machine shed and back to the house. She repeated her 360 a second time and paused when the barn came into view. Maybe Evan was there, feeding Storm.

Giving herself a pep talk, she high-stepped through the drifts and
headed toward the paddock. She’d made a fool of herself last night. She refused to repeat such an offense today. She’d simply tell him her plans and be done with it. She would not get emotional.

As she neared her destination, a white pickup turned onto the plowed lane and headed toward her. A gust of wind swept over the land and stirred up the snow. It blew against her face, and for a moment she could see nothing but white. Pulling up the collar of the parka, Bethany trudged the rest of the way to the barn.

As she approached, the low rumbling of a man’s voice replaced the howling wind. “Evan?” She stepped inside, dusting the snow from her hair when the sound of Storm’s blows filled the barn. Boots scuffled against the ground and Bethany looked up, her eyes adjusting to the change in light. Storm, Dan’s chestnut mare, stood near a pile of snow and straw at the opposite side of the barn, where the double doors opened wide into the paddock. Bethany’s sudden presence must have spooked the animal, because she backed up, her tail flicking. Evan held on to her halter and murmured something into her ear, as if trying to stop her from moving.

It worked. Storm stilled.

And something about that stillness heightened Bethany’s senses. Storm’s front right leg was cocked with her hoof just barely touching the ground. Something about it didn’t look right. From her brief stint in 4-H, she knew horses rested with a back leg cocked. But she’d never seen one stand quite like this, breathing so heavy and quick she could see its giant rib cage expand and contract.