The next morning, by some heavenly force, Amanda dragged her hungover self out of bed at six, pulled on cutoffs and a T-shirt, and sleepwalked through her barn chores. Ninety minutes later she collapsed onto her bed.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
Someone was pounding on her door. Please, please let it be Grady.
“Good morning, Amanda.”
It so wasn’t Grady.
Amanda moaned and almost fell out of bed. She opened the door to find Estelle perfectly put together. The woman stood on the landing in a designer sundress and flat sandals that probably cost more than Amanda’s pickup.
Amanda gathered her civility. “Good morning. Would you like coffee or tea?” She really wanted to ask what the hell Estelle was doing here and if she would please leave and send her son down mach schnell for some world-class snogging.
“Oh, no,” Estelle said with the same inflection she would use if offered sulfuric acid. She sidled past Amanda, stood in the middle of the small living room, and looked around. Amanda watched the hawk-sharp eyes rove over the couch and beige chairs, the rustic pine coffee table, the lamps from Target, and the kitchenette where the champagne flutes she and Grady had used the night before sat in the sink. And the bananas, with their pink ribbon.
“What charming . . . servants’ quarters.” Estelle’s nose twitched. “I suppose you get used to the smell.”
Amanda wondered what she meant, but then remembered not everyone thought horse barns smelled good.
“At any rate, I accidentally opened your mail. There were some . . . interesting items I want to talk to you about.” She lowered herself regally onto the humble couch and leaned back into the cushions as if she owned the place.
What did she mean? Why did she talk like a soap-opera villain? And why was Cruella de Vil touching her mail?
Estelle continued, “I’m especially interested in a particular . . . hospital bill.”
Adrenaline flooded Amanda’s body. “What hospital bill?” She sounded relatively calm. Which was good.
Estelle said coolly, “It’s nothing personal. I’m merely trying to protect my family.”
“From what?” Amanda couldn’t figure that one out. Then again, her brain was operating at about 67 percent capacity right now.
“I’m no doctor, but any man on the street can tell these expenses were incurred at a psychiatric facility. For all I know, you’re a psychopath, and I don’t want a psychopath around my grandchildren.”
How ludicrous! Amanda blinked. “I am not a psychopath,” she said with a nervous, high-pitched chuckle that made her sound like a psychopath.
“But you were under psychiatric care. So if you’re not a psychopath in every sense of the word, I have to assume that, at the very least, you’re, shall we say . . . mentally unstable.”
Amanda stared at Estelle and imagined how she would look in a coffin.
Someone knocked softly on the door.
“Amanda?” Grady asked.
Her heart zinged at the sound of his voice and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling, knowing Grady had come to her. Without taking her eyes off Estelle, she said, “Come in.”
He looked at her with a big apology in his eyes. “I just found out she was here.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips and then planted himself in front of his mother.
“What are you doing here, Mother?”
“Did she tell you she was crazy? Didn’t you do a background check? Or did you think it was perfectly fine to have a mental patient teach your children because she has a nice rack?”
“What are you talking about?”
Estelle continued. “I accidentally opened her mail.”
“Accidentally,” he snorted.
“It must’ve been divine providence, because not only is she a threat to my granddaughters, she’s a threat to you.”
Amanda said, “You are way out of line,” and stood next to Grady. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Darling,” Estelle said, “she’s accumulated quite a bill from the loony bin. I can’t imagine her salary could come close to covering it. Dear, she’s after you for more than your good looks.” She shifted her icy gaze to Amanda. “Which he gets from me.”
Amanda felt her eyes open wide and her facial muscles go slack. This was the most preposterous thing she’d ever heard. Tears of frustration and disbelief formed in her eyes.
“That’s enough,” Grady practically growled. “Give me those.” He snatched the envelopes. “You can go now, Mother.”
Estelle rose and strode to the door like a lioness.
She opened the door and said to Grady, “She’s a golddigger.”
“Well, Mom, you’re right about one thing.”
“More than one, but what would that be, dear?”
He flashed Amanda a sexy, cockeyed grin and said, “She does have a very nice rack.”
Amanda’s heart and loins galumphed.
Estelle scowled, then said to Amanda, “Nevertheless, it’s not going to work, dear. Go back to the swamps of Florida or Alabama or wherever you’re from.” And she left.
Grady dropped the mail on the coffee table, faced Amanda, and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
“Do you want coffee? Tea?” she asked.
“Either, and only if you do.”
“I do.” She squirmed away and began to make a pot of coffee from whole beans. She was dismayed to find that, thanks to Estelle, not only did her head feel like a horse had stepped on it, her stomach did, too.
Grady sat on a stool at the counter, leaned on his elbows, and said, “Don’t let her get to you. She’s only doing this because she wants me to really marry Priscilla.”
Amanda stiffened microscopically, but he must’ve noticed because he quickly added, “Which will never happen.”
She was surprised that she trembled as she ground the beans and poured the fresh grounds into the paper filter. She pressed the on button, then stared at the coffee maker’s carafe as dozens of disturbing thoughts tornadoed in her aching head.
As the first steaming brown drops plunked into the glass, she felt Grady slide behind her in the narrow space between the kitchen counter and the bar and settle his hands on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, then turned around and leaned against him. He slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her hair, and she felt like none of her problems could reach her.
Oh, but it felt nice to have his arms around her. His warmth. It felt so good there, against him. It felt right. He smelled clean and she could hear his heartbeat. She rubbed her cheek against him and savored the softness of his T-shirt. He stroked her hair, then rubbed her arms for a long, silent minute.
I fit here, she thought.
The smell of coffee reminded her it was ready. She raised her head to look at him. “Coffee?”
“Sure.” She slipped out of his embrace and poured them each a mug while he massaged her shoulders.
“And I’m not after your money.”
“Jesus, I know that. Does Harris know about the overdose?”
“No. I haven’t told anyone here except—”
“Except?”
She swallowed. “Luke.” She stilled, then turned around to look up at him. His eyes were the color of denim now. She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
His lips formed a hard, straight line. Then he said, “You dated that guy for five minutes. You see Harris every day and he adores you.”
“I don’t go around telling people I tried to kill myself.”
“I’m trying to understand why you’d tell Luke this deep dark secret when you hardly knew him. Yet you still haven’t told Harris, who you see every day and have become good friends with. And you only told me the night before last.”
“I thought things were going somewhere with Luke. Okay? That’s why I told him.” I was going to sleep with him so I’d stop obsessing over you. But of course she couldn’t tell him this.
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell Harris.” His voice was acquiring a hardness she didn’t care for.
“Harris and I don’t talk about that kind of thing.” We mostly talk about you. There’s not much time for anything else. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop judging me.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m simply trying to understand. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I thought we had something Friday night in the barn. And last night.”
“We did! We do.”
“But I need to be able to trust you. Trust is a two-way street—if you don’t trust me, how can I trust you? It’s not just about you and me and whatever has started between us; it’s about my kids. I’ve trusted you with my daughters. Was that a mistake?”
She felt her mouth open in astonishment. “Of course not.”
“Look, this is going to sound worse than I intend, but . . . Maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe you haven’t recovered as much as you think you have. After all, you had that panic attack when Solstice sprained her ankle. What if that happens again? What if it happens when you’re driving them somewhere. On these mountain roads? You could get in an accident.”
“You’re starting to sound like your mother.”
“I’ve screwed up with my kids for ten years. I can’t risk doing any more harm. I’m not blaming you. I just think there’s a chance you’re not as capable as you think you are.”
This was insane. If anyone in this room was psychotic, it was him. Amanda pierced him with her stare. “Name one time—just one time—when your kids weren’t completely safe with me.”
“Solstice sprained her ankle.”
“You still haven’t forgiven me? As we discussed at length that night, it was an accident and I did not put her at risk.”
“Beyond that, how would I know? I’m not there.”
“Grady, I don’t understand why you’re being like this. I’m not going to hurt your girls. I love them. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Tears of frustration burned behind her eyes and her nose tingled. Don’t cry. You have to appear exceptionally strong and sane. But she couldn’t help it.
“I can’t afford to screw up anymore. I’ve wasted so much time already. Look, for the time being, just teach them to ride and take care of the horses and the barn, okay? Don’t spend any extra time with them.”
“What? That’s . . . that’s . . . ludicrous. Why are you doing this? This isn’t like you.”
“They’re my kids. They mean everything to me. I need time to figure this out.”
“You mean figure me out. How are you going to do that? Have me evaluated? Have a psychiatrist test me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Me? You’re being ridiculous. You’re being absurd. Do you hear what you’re saying? Do you think I’d ever do anything to hurt your daughters?”
“No. But you might not realize what you’re doing.”
Amanda couldn’t stand near him anymore. She crossed the room and sat on the couch. Tears crept down her cheeks as she soundlessly cried. She was staring at the cover of a horse magazine on the coffee table as she said, “You think I’m crazy.”
“No. But let’s face facts. You were hospitalized. Hospitalized! You didn’t think this little item was important enough to mention?”
Oh, this was too much. Amanda shot up from the couch, gesturing broadly as she marched at him. She faced him from across the counter. “For one night! For observation! After I OD’d. One night. That was it. You know why I didn’t tell you? Because I forgot about it. I’ve had teeth cleanings that were more serious! You act like I was in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest! You’ve said yourself, I’m better with your kids than all those nannies combined. And sometimes, I’m better with them than you are. And by sometimes, I mean all the time. And you can’t take it.”
He looked at her, calm as could be. She wanted to smack him. He said, “This isn’t about you. It’s about Solstice and Wave. I just need time to think.”
She planted her palms on the counter and leaned in so that her face was inches from his. Her voice was low and barely audible. “No. It’s not about them. It’s about you. It’s about you being jealous of how your kids listen to me. It’s about your gargantuan overprotective streak, which stems from your guilt over Annie’s death. Getting rid of me isn’t gonna bring Annie back and make it all better. And don’t forget your mother’s role in all this. You don’t have to be a shrink to see how she’s been eroding your confidence as a father since Solstice was born. Hell, she’s been eroding your confidence since you were born. You need to blame someone and I’m handy. Fine. But it’s not going to solve anything.”
Grady didn’t move. The two mugs of now-cool coffee sat untouched on the counter behind him. Amanda backed off, looked at the rug on the floor, and sighed. Her heart, though pounding, felt like it weighed a million pounds. She went to the front door and held it open. “Please leave.”
He closed his eyes. Muscles bunched along his jawline. He opened his eyes, crossed the small room, and stopped in front of her. “Let’s say you’re great with my kids. Let’s say you’re better with them than I’ll ever be. But the difference is, I’m staying and you’ll leave. This is just a job to you.” He closed his eyes again. Opened them. “I’d prefer you stay in a hotel. Where you won’t be near the girls.”
“A hotel? Christ, you make it sound like I’m a child molester. So, Captain Overprotective, we’re back to that, are we? If you want me to leave your daughters alone except for when I’m teaching, you have to fire me. I won’t seek them out, but if they come down here, sorry, guess what, I’m going to talk to them. I won’t punish them because you’re being weird.”
“I don’t want to fire you. Jacqueline will let you know about sleeping arrangements.”
He left.
Amanda found she was trembling. She melted to the floor and curled on the homey rug. In the middle of her cozy living room, she allowed herself to cry as hard as she wanted.