“I’ve learned my lesson.”
Wallace gave her a doubtful look. “I’m not certain that would reassure Miranda.”
Shae leaned forward, placing her palm flat on the desk. “I made a mistake. I can change. I need a job.”
“Then you should have taken care with the one you had.”
“And that’s that?” she asked softly.
“Afraid so, Shae.”
It can’t end this way.
“Sorry,” Wallace said.
“Yeah.” Shae got to her feet, gave him a faint smile mustered from the need to hold on to a few shreds of her dignity, then turned to go, her stomach so tight she felt as if she was going to throw up. She was almost to the door when she glanced at the aerial map on the wall, then stopped. She slowly turned back, wondering if Wallace had indeed shrunk back in his seat as he met her speculative gaze or if she’d imagined it. “What about this?” she asked, pointing at the faded fluorescent-pink circle drawn around a mountain property.
“What about it?” Wallace asked slowly.
“Remember how Miranda was slated to sell it, but found out she couldn’t?”
“Vividly,” Wallace said. The sale had fallen through after she’d discovered she was not the sole heir to the place and apparently had been unable to hammer out a deal with her stepson, the other heir.
Shae was not surprised. Her own dealings with Jordan Bryan, brief as they’d been, had not gone well, either.
“But what if it made her some money while it was sitting there?”
“How so?” Wallace asked, his pale eyes narrowing, but Shae saw a spark of interest there.
“What if I could shape it into a guest ranch? Miranda has the operating rights.” A fact she’d gleaned from office gossip and speculation after the sale fell through. “Why not use them?”
“Have you seen the place, Shae?”
“Mel and I went there once during college to collect a horse she’d bought from Miranda’s husband. So yes, I’ve seen it.”
“And how did it strike you?”
“Isolated. Run-down.” Shae had excitement in her voice as she said, “But there were cabins there that the family had rented to miners during the gold strikes. Think how cool it would be if those could be refurbished. And there were quite a few other buildings, if I recall.”
Wallace looked over his shoulder, as if checking for a camera or perhaps a recording device, before leaning across his desk to say in a low voice, “If it had any moneymaking potential, don’t you think she would have thought about that?”
“Not if it’s isolated and run-down.” Shae pointed to the map. “Look—it’s surrounded by Forest Service land. Perfect for riding. Fishing. But in a more—” she smiled slightly as a thought struck her “—manly environment than at Miranda’s other two ranches.” Both of which were sprawling properties with rich histories as working cattle ranches. Lots of little niceties included in the vacation package. Spas, babysitting, crafts classes for kids, riding lessons.
“Manly.”
Shae walked back to his desk, plans already taking shape in her head. “Yes, manly. A more rugged experience. Not for sissies, that kind of marketing. Kind of a one-percenter ranch.”
Wallace shook his head. She could see he was intrigued, but didn’t want to admit it, so she gave one more small push.
“Come on...it’s a great idea. Run it by Miranda.”
“It’s not bad,” he agreed grudgingly. “She’ll probably give the project to someone else if I pass it along—like, say, someone who works here?”
“I’ll contract the job for eighty percent of my previous salary,” Shae said, “for three months. I’ll evaluate the property, make recommendations for renovations, handle any permitting nightmares. I’d hand her a finished product for less salary than she’d pay a regular employee.”
“And if you succeed...?”
“It would put me in a position to discuss getting my old job back. I heard that Risa’s not doing as well as hoped.”
Wallace fiddled with the pencil he held, then exhaled slowly, his breath fluttering the spreadsheets in front of him. “I’ll run it by her. No promises.”
“None asked,” Shae said feeling a faint welling of confidence. If she could get this second chance, it meant she could stay on her career path. And more than that, maybe she could prove she wasn’t the loser that everyone apparently thought she was. Rebuild one or two of those bridges she’d obliviously burned.
* * *
WHEN JORDAN LEFT home to join the military, he’d told himself he wasn’t coming back—at least not as long as Miranda was in the picture—and the Subaru was doing its best to help him keep his promise. He’d ended up staying three nights in Miles City just after crossing the Montana border, waiting for yet another repair part. And even though he was in Montana and had a deep appreciation for the rolling hills in this part of the state, it wasn’t his part of the state. In some ways he felt as foreign here as he had in Virginia.
Maybe that was why he spent all of his time in the motel, leaving only to walk Clyde or to get a cheap meal. Or maybe he’d hidden out because he was still raw when it came to people staring at him, studying the burns and what remained of the fingers of his left hand. He’d never liked being the center of attention and now people couldn’t help but notice him.
He’d gone one night without taking a pill and had been slammed with another nightmare. After that he’d taken the pills every night. He had enough for three more weeks and he hoped that once he was at the High Camp, he’d be able to work his way past the dreams again...and past the cavernous emptiness that seemed to be enveloping him.
Was he ever going to get a grip?
Once upon a time he’d thought he was. The PTSD therapy had worked so well that Jordan had come to believe that his principal scars were the physical ones. Now he wasn’t so sure...and it scared him.
He’d put all that time and effort into therapy, gone through the accompanying emotional trauma, and what had it gotten him? A six-month reprieve. No—make that four months. For the last two he’d been fighting against the insidious backslide.
The thing that scared him most was that he had no idea what had triggered the backslide, the feelings of emptiness and uselessness. One day he was doing fine and the next...the next he felt overwhelmed. Trapped, yet at the same time drifting.
So now he was following his gut and doing therapy his way. He was going home.
* * *
DRIVING THE AUDI to the High Camp had been a mistake. It was a sturdy car, but parts of the road leading to the mountain ranch were rougher than Shae had anticipated. She carefully maneuvered her baby through a long stretch of six-inch-deep ruts, wincing at the sound of branches scraping the sides of the car, before easing back into the center of the track when the road once again smoothed out.
Shae let out a breath and loosened her death grip on the steering wheel. Scratches on the Audi were not the end of the world—she could afford to have them buffed out when she completed this contract.
A small smile played on her lips. This contract. She had a contract. Her impromptu proposal had worked. Almost as soon as Wallace ran her idea past Miranda, the ball had started rolling. Early Friday morning she’d been summoned back to the office to meet with Miranda herself.
Shae went into the meeting determined to prove herself and thirty minutes later the deal had been struck—a two-month contract at 70 percent of her former