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Later that night, Casey appeared outside Heather’s bedroom door with a platter of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. Heather answered on the second knock. Her eyes scanned from the cookies to the steaming mugs to Casey’s face. Her eyes were glossy and her cheeks rouge and gruff from tears.
“You didn’t bake those yourself, did you?” she asked tentatively.
“I actually did,” Casey told her. She didn’t mention that it had been the only thing she could do to keep her mind off the chaos of her inner thoughts and all Grant had just told her. She glanced behind Heather to spot several white pages upon her desk, where Heather had scrawled out what looked to be a short story.
Heather noticed and blushed even more. “I got inspired tonight. I guess it’s all that naive emotion.”
Casey shifted her weight, still holding onto the cookies and milk platter. “Heather... what I said... was really out of line, and I should have never said those things. I am so sorry. Really, I have no idea what came over me. Being in touch with your emotions is a gift and I’ll admit it. I’ve always been jealous of it.”
Heather’s long lashes draped over her cheeks. Casey was struck with the memory, for just a second, that Heather and Casey didn’t share a drop of the same blood. Had the circumstances been different, they never would have met. That ignorant Adam Keating. Yet he was the reason this gorgeous creature remained in Casey’s world, so in a way, she was grateful.
“Maybe you want a little snack to get you through?” Casey suggested finally.
Heather nodded and stepped back to allow Casey to enter her bedroom. Casey then sat stiffly at the edge of Heather’s bed as Heather collapsed at the desk, crossing her legs beneath her. She took a cookie and lifted it to her lips expectantly.
“I went to see him.” Casey ran a hand through her hair, then looked at Heather. “And you were right. He never cheated. It was a complete misunderstanding.”
Heather dropped the cookie on the ground. It crumbled across the rug as Heather raced across the bedroom and tossed her arms around Casey, nearly spilling her hot chocolate.
“I knew it. I just knew it,” Heather cried.
Casey longed to articulate just how “trusting” Heather was and that it wasn’t always bound to be true. This wasn’t the time for that. She was just as over the moon as Heather was.
Casey explained what Grant had told her thus far about Quintin, his drinking and gambling addictions, his sorrow over his daughter’s death, and his subsequent love for Alyssa Limperis. “His career has failed. He has next-to-nothing. And Grant felt that he had no choice but to chip in when he could,” Casey explained.
“He should never have lied to you about that,” Heather said as her eyes widened.
“But I kind of understand why he did,” Casey breathed finally. “It’s not like we had stellar communication. We drifted apart in a million different ways and my anger— well. I’m sure it terrified him.”
Heather nodded. “It’s like a storm.”
“I considered that on the walk back here,” Casey breathed. “I’ve always had this horrible volatility. Maybe it’s finally time to speak to someone about it.”
“Why not also look into couple’s counseling?” Heather tried.
“You mean, attack every single problem head-on at once?” Casey asked, her voice lilting. “You mean, actually get emotionally and mentally strong to allow for a more beautiful future for both of us?”
“Something like that,” Heather returned with a vibrant laugh. “Why not?”
“I guess it stands to reason that we’re all learning and growing as we go,” Casey said thoughtfully. “And that no matter how old you get, the journey’s never really over.”
Heather buzzed her lips. “Isn’t that just the worst and the best thing? That life is this story we get to tell ourselves, and we’re the ones who make up the plot points?”
Casey laughed outright. “There you go again with your emotional imagination.”
“I’ll never change,” Heather told her.
“Please. Don’t,” Casey agreed firmly.
**
MIDWAY THROUGH CASEY’S shift the following day, she sizzled with adrenaline and fear. A middle-aged woman with a gaudy engagement ring chewed her gum aggressively as she declared that her hotel room towels were “very rough,” and Casey turned away from her, distracted, and lifted her phone.
“Excuse me? I’m talking to you!” the woman howled, something she would almost assuredly put on her online review, to the detriment of the Keating Inn.
But Casey just couldn’t take it. Hospitality was a fool’s game. It wasn’t hers.
“Hi,” Casey spoke into the receiver.
“Hi.” Grant’s voice was as deep, emotional, and far-reaching as the Montana sky.
“Do you have time this afternoon? I want to ride horses with you like we used to.”
“Horses?” The woman at the front desk had never been ignored to this extent before. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Uh oh. Did you piss someone off at the hotel?” Grant’s deep laughter was endearing.
“I’ll take care of it,” Casey returned, joining his laughter. She then kept him on the phone as she turned back toward the woman and said, “I just had to call the towel manufacturer,” she explained. “They’re going to make a whole new line of towels, just for your bathing pleasure.”
All the color drained from the woman’s face as she tried to rustle up some kind of response. Suddenly, Abby appeared from the back office, seemingly understanding that Casey had reached the end of her rope.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I can help you right here.”
“Did you hear what your colleague just said to me?” the woman blared.
“She’s um. She’s making a very important phone call. We’ve had quite a day here at the Keating Inn. I hope you’ll understand.” Abby turned her bright eyes toward Casey with a mixture of disbelief and humor.
As the woman at the desk continued to blare on about her towel situation, Abby mouthed to Casey: “Go before you make an even bigger mess.”
Two hours later, Grant and Casey sat side-by-side on horseback as they gazed out across the frigid blue of the glorious Frenchman Bay and toward the peak of Cadillac Mountain. They’d wrapped themselves up in layers, which provided insulation from the wicked, whipping winds that surged in off the Atlantic. Years and years before, Grant had instructed a twenty-two-year-old Casey on how to ride. He admitted now that she hadn’t forgotten a single thing.
They continued to ride, with Casey behind Grant as he clipped forward. He rode with the prowess of a man who’d been raised on horseback. She tried her darnedest to envision what their lives might have been like had they lived out in Montana the past few decades. Her mind drummed up an image of herself in a cowboy hat, which was borderline laughable. Grant was correct in one thing; they’d built a near-perfect life for Donnie, Melody, and the both of them.
Now, perhaps they’d have the chance to spend the rest of their lives finding balance. Perhaps they’d have the rest of their lives to truly know and love one another, without hesitation and without jealousy and without lies. Perhaps it was possible.
Anything was if you worked for it. Wasn’t it? Casey had to believe that.
Casey’s phone blared loudly in her pocket when they paused at a rocky edge. Grant’s eyes turned toward her as she removed her gloves and grabbed her phone to silence it. The name on the phone gave her immediate pause.
RACHEL MARRIS - DIVORCE LAWYER
“Shoot,” she breathed.
“What is it?” Grant asked.
She ignored the call and shoved it into her pocket again. When she closed her eyes, a small tear traced toward her chin.
“Hey. Casey. Hey.” Grant sounded alarmed. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
Casey pressed her lips together as her phone blared again. When she lifted it, she found that Rachel Marris tried again.
“It’s my divorce lawyer,” she said softly. Her horse clipped its hooves against the rocks beneath them.
Silence fell between them. In the distance, a bird, leftover after countless migrations, cawed out across the sky.
“I would understand if you still wanted to go through with it,” he told her softly. “There’s been so much deceit and emptiness between us. If you want this fresh start in Bar Harbor— I mean, I had so much time, to be honest with you. I had so many opportunities to be home more. I...” He shook his head tentatively, unable to finish his sentence.
Casey’s tongue tasted sour. She again shoved her phone back into her pocket, then directed her reins leftward to take them deeper along the mountain trail. Just before she yanked away, she said, “Maybe we could get dinner tomorrow night and talk about it more. But right now, I just want to live in the beauty of the Acadia Mountains. And I don’t want to do it with anyone else but you.”