As they sat having coffee at Yvonne’s bakery Friday morning, Wyatt decided to take the risk of testing Chaz’s view on a Walker working at Mountain Vista.
He got exactly the response he predicted. “You can’t be serious.” His stepbrother’s face darkened almost immediately at the suggestion Wyatt was even considering the offer.
Wyatt stirred his coffee, glad he’d opted to have this conversation off the ranch. “Well, I get they’re not exactly popular.”
“As in, everyone hates them,” Chaz pronounced. “They’re gobbling up Wander’s smaller ranches. We’re trying to fight it and you want to sign on to help? Seriously?”
“Wander’s smaller ranches are failing. Or on the brink of failing. If Mountain Vista doesn’t buy them, they’ll end up as housing developments. At least as golf courses they stay open spaces.”
“A golf course hardly counts as a consolation prize.” Chaz scowled as he ate another of the oatmeal raisin cookies that had always been his favorite. A sensible contrast to Wyatt’s sweet tooth. “I can’t believe you’re actually considering this.”
“It’s a really good offer. Not everyone is doing as well as you and Dad.”
It was a poor choice of words, and Wyatt could just see Chaz biting back a comment about how the only reason Wyatt wasn’t doing as well was because he’d chosen to walk away from Wander Canyon Ranch.
I’d rather be broke on my own terms, he reminded himself. Some nights, when he couldn’t sleep, Wyatt would pick at that old familial wound. He was Hank Walker’s biological child. Chaz had been adopted through Dad’s second marriage after Wyatt’s mother had died. He’d always found his lack of talent and passion for ranch management to be a cruel joke. The sour irony was that the stepbrother sitting across the table from him was ten times the Walker he’d ever be, no matter what blood ran through his veins.
There was a time when people thought of Chaz as the more sullen Walker brother. Not anymore. Chaz was so happy and settled now it made Wyatt’s teeth hurt worse than Yvonne’s sweetest fudge.
“You can’t go work for them,” Chaz pressed.
“Says who?” Wyatt named the generous figure Tim had laid out for him the other night, satisfied at how it raised Chaz’s eyebrows. “That’s serious money, and I’m not exactly getting rich at Manny’s.”
The “if you’d only come back to the ranch” hung silently in the air between them, the way it always did. Chaz had the decency not to say the words—a grace Dad didn’t always possess. He’d had to fight so hard to break free of his father’s absurd notion that the blood son needed to inherit Wander Canyon Ranch. Chaz and he had actually come to blows over it the day he finally told Chaz he didn’t want the ranch.
While he and Chaz had made a tenuous peace over things, it still felt impossible to go back. And Chaz was doing a great job of it anyway. His father might still balk at the idea that Wyatt had never been the man for the job, but Wyatt had always known. The one thing in that whole mess he could be proud of was that he’d been honest to himself.
“So now that they’re dangling all that money in front of you, why haven’t you said yes?”
This was the conversation he’d wanted to have with Chaz. “My gut. I’m seeing a few red flags.”
“Like...”
“Like why me? So fast and easy? Come on, even I know I don’t have the kind of résumé that should generate an offer like that.”
Chaz ate another cookie. “What does Tim tell you?”
“He says they want to hire local. Some very brochure-sounding language about keeping roots in the canyon. Community, that sort of thing.”
Chaz gave a grunt. “Community would be going someplace where you don’t have to buy up land that’s been in families for centuries just to make the eighteenth hole.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “A big salary won’t impress a woman if it’s from a company the whole town hates.”
Wyatt sat back. “Who says this is about impressing a woman?”
“When isn’t something with you about a woman?”
Yvonne had the poor timing to walk up to the table and hear her husband’s accusation. “A woman with adorable twin daughters, maybe?”
“Marilyn?” Wyatt made sure he looked shocked.
“She’s been at the garage a bunch. You’re buying pink and purple doughnuts. Margie made you a drawing at the church learning center. And rumor has it the first working carousel ride has been promised to a pair of young ladies.”
“What is it with this town?” Wyatt raised his voice. He put on the most sensible, serious face he could manage. “Marilyn is helping me organize the garage paperwork.”
“Is that something like Heidi Daniels helping you with algebra?” Chaz adopted the most annoying smirk. “Because I recall that helping somehow involved kisses on the steps behind the library and...”
“No!” Wyatt shouted. “I am not hung up on Mari Sofitel. Not even close.” He rose from the table. “I just may take that job for the sheer fact that it might tick you all off enough to never talk to me again.” He threw a twenty-dollar bill down on the table. “This one’s on me. I’m not so keen on you thinking you owe me anything at the moment.”
Wyatt pushed the door open, not caring that it nearly snapped on its hinges from the force of his annoyance.
Marilyn and the girls had just finished up lunch when she pulled open the door to see Tessa and Gregory. Mom and Dad were at a Carousel Committee meeting, and Tessa had called and asked to come over. That was a bit odd in itself, but the fact that she’d brought Greg along just made it odder.
Tessa’s voice was tight. “I asked Greg to come along and play with the girls while we talked. Okay by you?”
Marilyn felt a prick of panic rise at the serious look in Tessa’s eyes. Why did Tessa need to speak to her alone? “If you can push a swing, you’ll be a hit.” She heard the girls come down the stairs behind her and turned to make introductions. “Maddie and Margie, you’ve seen Greg in church, haven’t you?”
Greg offered a wave. “Hi.” The boy’s greeting was far from enthusiastic. He’d clearly been pressed into distraction service here, which rose a cold lump in Marilyn’s stomach.
Tessa leaned down to Maggie. “Your mom tells me you’ve got a new swing set?”
“Just last week. In the yard.” Margie pointed to the back door. “Wanna swing with us?”
Greg looked like he’d prefer to be doing anything else, but Tessa nudged him in the direction of the backyard. “Sounds like fun, right, Greg?”
“Uh...sure,” Greg said, shuffling behind the girls, who raced toward the swings oblivious to his reluctance.
The minute the door closed, Tessa produced a large manila envelope out of her handbag. “Greg’s not the best babysitter on the planet, but we need to talk out of the girls’ earshot and this can’t wait.”
“Want some coffee?” Marilyn asked, unsure how to play hostess to the way Tessa was acting.
“No.” Tessa’s usual friendly, bubbly nature seemed nowhere in sight.
Marilyn felt her pulse raise. She’d just begun to believe that she could leave the strain of Denver behind her, but whom was she kidding? Tessa’s expression broadcast bad news. Marilyn forced a question out from behind the knot building in her throat. “Tessa, what’s up?”
Tessa’s took a quick glance out the windows to see Greg dutifully pushing the girls on the swings. “I’m not quite sure how to do this.”
It was then that she knew. Maybe she’d actually known all along—or at least guessed—but it was so tempting to believe that Landon’s secrets wouldn’t follow her here and push their way to the surface. She’d found files in Landon’s desk the week before he died. Schemes. Backroom deals. Things just short of illegal. She’d always known she’d only seen the smallest part of it, but like the ostrich, she’d buried her head in the sand.
Marilyn attempted a deep breath—really more of a gulp of a prayer for help—and sat down at the kitchen table, motioning for Tessa to do the same. “You’re not quite sure how to do what?”
Landon had always made it easy to be the ostrich. He was very good at hiding things, at crafting appearances, at telling her his business dealings weren’t ever anything she need to bother about. Part of her could guess whatever it was Tessa was about to show her, while another part of her realized it could be anything—even things far worse than what she already knew.
Tessa opened the envelope. “I don’t know if it’s better to hope you already knew this, or that you don’t. Either way, I figured I owed it to you to see it first.”
Marilyn’s throat tightened. “Know what?” She felt a spinning, falling sensation. This was no wondrous carousel dizziness. This was a stomach-lurching drop off a cliff.
“The Denver paper’s been sniffing around Mountain Vista for a while. They’ve wanted to do a story on the conflict between commercial and ranch land. You know, tourism corporations encroaching on natural resources, big company versus the small family ranch, that sort of thing.”
That issue wasn’t new to Marilyn. Most Colorado residents took sides regarding land use. She chose her response carefully. “Landon had talked about things like that when he eyed a run for the Senate.”
In public, Landon had positioned himself as a supporter of the small family ranch, of protection for open lands and natural resources. Even though his legal practice focused on finance and accounting cases, he was crafting a carefully constructed public persona. In the months before his death, she’d come to suspect his public positions weren’t his true values. In fact, she knew he was courting the deep pockets of resort companies in preparation for a campaign. They’d been on a few lavish vacations she guessed to have been gifts. Weekends at resorts she didn’t think they could afford, always with an “order anything you like” invitation even though she never saw the bill.
When she questioned him, he’d always brush it off as if it was a necessary task instead of an enticement. “This is how we play along,” he’d said. “It’s the cost of gaining leverage.” Only he never said leverage for what.
“Did you know his position on the Mountain Vista project? Did you ever talk about it?”
Marilyn shook her head. “He’d made a point never to weigh in on Wander Canyon and Mountain Vista. He told me he wanted to stay out of it here. Out of respect for me, and Mom and Dad.” It was no secret that Mom and Dad were vocal in their opposition to Mountain Vista, as was most of the Canyon.
Tessa’s face grew more serious. “Mari, Landon was actually involved with Mountain Vista. He’d been working with them. He’s been in league with them for years.”
Some tiny, persistent shred of optimism wanted to say she was surprised. That her belief in Landon hadn’t dissolved that far. But the sad truth was that it didn’t really surprise her. It felt good to believe he’d stayed clear of Wander Canyon out of respect for her and her family, so she believed it. She believed his lie that he’d kept his business dealings in Denver or elsewhere.
And now his lie had followed her here. Marilyn swallowed hard, pressing her palms against the table for support. “How?”
“Well, I don’t really know yet, but the Denver reporter showed me a bunch of strategy emails. Talking about how to win over the community, which ranches to make offers on, which banks would reveal who was behind on their mortgages, that sort of thing.” Tessa pulled the papers out. “They got their hands on some incriminating emails.” She pointed to a memo listing an email address Marilyn had never seen Landon use.
The fact that Landon had secret email addresses ought to be a slap of shock. Only it wasn’t. It simply added to the slipping sensation of fear, the fragile bridge to life beyond Landon now starting its collapse around her.
Tessa went on, her voice filled with both regret and concern. “These aren’t nice emails. And the Denver paper is planning on publishing some of them. His name is going to get dragged up in this.”
Landon was usually very savvy about covering his tracks. Lord, I turned a blind eye. I told myself I was wrong even when I knew I wasn’t. She’d fought to cling to the idea of the charming visionary she thought she’d married. The man who went to church and gave to charity and brought her flowers for no reason. Even as she slowly became aware of his questionable dealings, Marilyn convinced herself to ignore what Landon called “necessary alignments.”
“It’s just part of getting business done,” he’d said. “The cost of gaining the power to do what’s right.” In the final year, Landon’s duplicity and inattention had strangled whatever love she had for him. The terrible truth was that whatever faith Landon had possessed when they were married had evaporated in front of her eyes the minute men of power had taken notice of him. It was the parable of the sower played out right in front of her—seeds choked out by the thorns of “cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches.”
When she dared to raise any concerns, he dismissed them. “Why can’t you support me?” he’d challenge. “Look at all the things I give you and the girls.”
“I don’t want things!” she’d shouted back one night. “I want the man I married. The one who loves his family. I want him back.”
He’d stormed out that night, and stayed out. When he failed to come home, Marilyn thought her marriage had hit a new low.
When a pair of police officers came to the door just after dawn, she learned not only had her marriage ended, but Landon’s life, as well. It had taken a lot of pleading and a full-court press of the law firm’s influence to keep his blood alcohol levels out of the newspaper accounts of his car crash. Every cell in her body remembered what dread felt like, and the sensation returned too easily.
“Mari?” Tessa’s hand was on hers, pulling Marilyn back to the present. “I’m so sorry about this. It must be a shock.”
Marilyn rose and went to the fridge. She needed to move, to make her limbs work, prove her dread hadn’t swallowed her. She froze with her hand on the fridge door, unable to open it or return to the table.
“Oh, dear,” she said, just because it sounded like what she was supposed to say. She remembered reading somewhere that mortal wounds never actually hurt, that the body went into a numbing shock. That’s what this felt like. Or ought to have felt like, if she’d felt anything at all. Dread should feel hot and menacing like fire, but it had always felt cold and numb.
A burst of the girls’ laughter came in through the open kitchen window, and it sliced through her. This is how it starts. One day too soon they’ll know. They’ll realize who—and what—their father was. The wall she’d tried to build around them was starting to fall. Oh, dear Lord, she moaned silently in prayer, her knuckles white as she clutched the refrigerator handle. How do I go from here? How do I watch this happen? How will You protect us?
Tessa came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “So you didn’t know?” The kindness in her voice made it all so much worse. People wouldn’t be kind for long. The short bursts of sympathy would give way to stares and avoided conversations. “That’s her. She was married to that man. Those are his girls, you know.” Maybe someone like Wyatt Walker could fend that off all his life, but she wasn’t that strong. Not anymore.
In a tiny pop of tragic logic, one item for her list of blessings surfaced. We haven’t bought a house yet. It’ll make it easier to go someplace else.
“I knew Landon wasn’t perfect,” Marilyn replied. The understatement tasted sour—too much like something the law firm publicity office would have said. She had to will her fingers to let go of the handle, not even bothering with the pretense of opening it. “But no, I didn’t know.”
“Nothing’s concrete in terms of proof...yet.” Tessa’s shrug told Marilyn they both knew the eventuality of that. Landon was involved with Mountain Vista. It was only a question of how deep—and how legal. That might have left room for innocence with other men, but Marilyn knew this was the beginning of the end for Landon. And likely for her and the twins.