6. Sadie
6
SADIE
F antasies about my mother don’t take up as much headspace as they used to when I was a kid, but sometimes they still hit me out nowhere.
Like when I wake up on Christmas morning after fretting through the night in my childhood bedroom. The morning light grows brighter as I watch, unwilling to exit the warmth of this bed and face the complicated day. I wonder if we’d be having Christmas together if she hadn’t died so long ago.
I’ve been told my parents’ marriage wasn’t a happy one. Knowing my father, this isn’t hard to believe. It’s doubtful they would have stayed together. But her fate was sealed following a cocktail luncheon with a friend. She climbed into the passenger seat of the car being driven by that friend. Shortly after, the car careened into a light pole. The friend was badly injured but lived. My mother died on impact.
She wasn’t really a hands on type of parent. She had her social clubs and mostly left me in the care of hired help. But she also arranged to have a petting zoo at my birthday party because she knew how much I loved animals. She hugged me sometimes. She thought enough about my future to arrange for a trust fund that would end up being my ticket to freedom.
If she’d lived she probably would have taken me with her once her marriage to my father disintegrated. I would have grown up elsewhere, perhaps nowhere near here. I might not have even been aware of my brother’s friend, the boy next door.
Cale Connelly.
Just the echo of his name bouncing through my head sends me under the blanket with a groan.
Last night’s conversation was so surreal that I kept checking my phone for confirmation. But the text showing the ten grand transfer never disappeared.
A few hours of restless sleep hasn’t helped me sort out the tidal wave of confusing feelings attached to Cale’s offer. I can’t dismiss his plan as insane because it’s clear that Cale is far from insane. He’s smart and calculating and perceptive. In the space of a few minutes he was able to decipher my weakness and design a plot that would fulfill his objective. Both admirable and terrifying.
Also terrifying is the fact that I considered accepting on the spot. Cale’s scheme would be a legal arrangement that would give me everything and cost me nothing.
Really, it’s no different than two people getting married for health insurance.
I saw a movie about that once. But of course by the end the two people had fallen madly in love and I don’t want that ending. I have zero desire to fall in love with Cale. I just want to save Bright Hearts.
Yet there’s no chance of saving anything or anyone while I lie here moping in a canopy bed on Christmas morning.
On ordinary days I’m up and about much earlier, eager to see to the needs of the ranch. I’m usually shoving a quick breakfast into my mouth and chasing it with a cup of Peggy’s herbal tea just as the first rays of sunlight are cracking the sky.
My phone pings with a new message and I scramble to reach it on the nightstand. I’m afraid it’s a text from Cale, demanding an answer to his ‘proposal’.
Nope, just Gus. What a relief.
The Abernathy’s poodle swallowed a tiny baby Jesus so I was up all night in surgery. Drove out to BH at dawn to check on things and Peggy forced me to stay and eat her homemade cranberry scones. All is well at the ranch. Dottie and her new puppies are thriving. Hope you’re having a Merry Christmas and not being tortured too much in NY.
Gus knows about my family struggles and my broken engagement and that my most treasured possession is the signed fan photo of Elton John hanging on my bedroom wall. When big news happens in my life, Gus tends to hear about it. Under ordinary circumstances she would have already received an earful about the shocking Christmas Eve marriage proposal from Cale Connelly.
These, however, aren’t ordinary circumstances.
These are Cale circumstances.
Cale warned that I wasn’t allowed to repeat our conversation to anyone. I’d rather not find out what happens when you cross him. Probably nothing good. Maybe something very bad.
The possibility ought to terrify me to the marrow of my bones.
Yet a funny thing happened between the time I climbed into his glossy sports car and the time he returned me to my father’s doorstep.
I wouldn’t say I felt tranquil. Far from it. My head was spinning in twenty directions. But any fear I had of Cale himself had evaporated.
He wasn’t the least bit charming. He was blunt and often rude. He also did not hide his intentions. He told me what he wanted and he explained why I should agree with him.
Even if I still want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, I have to admire his candor. Also, I assured him I would tell no one. No matter my flaws, I do keep my word.
I stare at Gus’s text.
Then I flip to the money transfer text from Cale.
Then I return to Gus’s text and compose an answer.
Thank you for being the guardian of BH. Can’t wait to be back home. Hope no more Baby Jesuses (or whatever the plural is) get eaten today.
No lies detected. It just feels that way. When you have a best friend and you’re used to giving your best friend important updates, leaving out jaw-dropping information feels the same as lying.
With a sigh, I fling the fluffy pink comforter aside and sit up, wincing at the chill. I wasn’t joking when I told Cale that my father’s preferred house temperature is meant for the cold-blooded.
I wish I was back home in my small cozy bedroom with the eclectic braided rag rugs made by Peggy and the fireplace crackling. Above my bed is my idea board, a patchwork of pictures and words that showcase all my biggest dreams for the ranch. If I repair and modernize the barn we can accept horses. The new building I sketched out would allow us to double our dog population.
But if I don’t find a way to pay off the creditors breathing down my neck, the ranch will be lost. And every living thing sheltering there will be homeless.
A very bleak thought. I’m still sinking under the weight of it when my eyes land on Cale’s jacket. It was a very considerate move, wrapping it around my shoulders when I shivered. He’d driven away by the time I realized I was still wearing it. And now it hangs there on the back of the desk chair like it’s the specter of Cale himself, beckoning, taunting, promising to solve all my problems.
And all I need to do in return is sell my soul.
All right, that’s a tad melodramatic.
Cale isn’t exactly Ursula the sea witch. But I would have to set aside my principles. The ones that swore I would never marry a man for the wrong reasons.
I can hear water running somewhere. And the sound of doors opening and shutting. One of the other suites in this wing of the house is being occupied by my sister. Hadley and her fiancé were too drunk to return to the city last night.
Spurred to action, I jump off the bed and dash to the adjoining bathroom. I really need to catch my father alone this morning. Hadley has a habit of demanding all the attention whenever she’s in a room.
In record time I’m both showered and presentable. I even add a dash of lip gloss and mascara for some extra sparkle.
Downstairs, last night’s cleanup crew performed magic. There’s no sign that the house was packed with people twelve hours ago. Arlena floats into view, wearing a voluminous blush-colored silk robe with enormous sleeves. She beams at the sight of me descending the staircase.
“Happy Christmas, Sadie, and don’t you look cute.” She kisses the air on either side of my head. “There’s a breakfast buffet waiting in the dining room.” She gestures vaguely down the hall, her hands hidden in the bell-shaped sleeves. “Oh, did you enjoy the party and the vegan chocolate fountain?”
“I did. Thank you. Is my father in the dining room?”
“Your father.” Her lovely face dims with confusion as she thinks. It’s apparently a challenge. “No, I don’t think so. But maybe he is. I’m sure I saw Asher earlier but I can’t remember where.”
When I first met Arlena I thought she might be drunk all the time but now I think this is just her personality. Kind of flighty but harmless. A former Miss America who is now a spokesmodel for air freshener.
Arlena excuses herself. Now that I’m alone, a twinge of nerves strike as I walk down the hall to the dining room. The nerves turn to something else when I reach the dining room entrance and see my sister sitting alone at the table and scowling over an untouched croissant and a glass of something fizzy.
Hadley, wearing sunglasses, looks up. “Do you have any Zofran?”
“Nope.” I head for the silver pot of coffee at the far end of the table. “But Merry Christmas.”
She grunts. “Alka-Seltzer is better than nothing.” She chugs the contents of the fizzy glass and hiccups.
There’s plenty of food to choose from. Platters of sliced fruit, bowls of granola, a tray of avocado slices. But my appetite is nowhere to be found, especially when I realize I’m standing in the same spot where I was last night when I heard the voice of Cale Connelly.
“Hello there, Scraps.”
“Where’s Griffin?” I ask as I pour a cup of coffee.
Hadley leans on her elbows and rubs her temples. “He needed to go see his mother for some reason. He expected me to go with him. How could he ask me that when I’m in this condition?”
It’s not a question I’m expected to answer, which is good because I have nothing nice to say. Hadley can’t understand why her fiancé would want to visit his mother on Christmas. She’s simply annoyed that her hangover isn’t taking priority.
She raises her head, flips her sunglasses up and peers at me with bloodshot eyes. “I saw you flirting with Cale Connelly last night.”
Flirting? That’s rich. But I don’t feel like denying it, particularly because the idea seems to annoy her.
I sip some coffee and smile at my sister. “So what?”
“You’re such a child,” she scoffs and flips her sunglasses back down. “You’d never be able to handle a man like Cale. Don’t even try. You’ll just make a fool out of yourself. Of course, I say this out of love.”
Hadley still has the power to cut me with her words but the wounds aren’t nearly as deep as they used to be.
“Where’s Dad?” I say, ready to move on.
“How should I know?” she snaps.
Forever pleasant, my sister.
“Have you seen him?”
“Check his study. And don’t try to make me talk anymore. It only worsens my migraine.”
Fine by me. But I’m not leaving until I get in at least one dig of my own. I select half a dozen cucumber slices and arrange them on a clean plate.
“Try putting these over your eyes. They might temporarily smooth out some of those new wrinkles.”
She’s still trying to think of a comeback when I dash out of the room and hurry to the other side of the house. I shouldn’t doubt my mission. Asher Wingate is a difficult man but he’s not evil. I’m still his daughter even if he isn’t always pleased with me.
The thick oak door to his study is partially open. My father is a stickler for formality so I formally knock and wait for an answer.
“Come in,” commands the voice of Asher Wingate.
As a small child, I was awed by my father. If I’d been asked who was more powerful – the President of the United States or Asher Wingate – I would have struggled to answer.
Over time, the awe gave way to a more uneasy feeling. I feared him and I wanted to impress him and yet I realized he wasn’t a very nice person.
He stands in the middle of the room and frowns at my entrance. “Mercedes.” He doesn’t even try to keep the irritation out of his tone.
I arrange my face into a pretty smile. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
For the first time I notice that we’re not alone. Baylor sits in a leather armchair beside the stone fireplace that has probably never once been lit. My brother stares into the cold fireplace with a pouty expression and doesn’t acknowledge my entrance.
My father clears his throat. “Is that all you wanted to say?”
Baylor finally quits examining the dark fireplace and looks over. His only greeting is a stiff nod. I return the nod, just as stiffly.
“Well, I did want to wish you a merry Christmas. And I’d also very much like to have a chance for us to speak in private when you’re free.”
His forehead pleats with disapproval. “If what you want to discuss is truly important to you then you shouldn’t be willing to let it wait. There are few qualities more admirable than boldness.”
He’s so full of it. If I’d come charging in here demanding his time on the spot then I would have been scolded for my lack of patience. It’s always a no win situation with my father. I may as well be blunt.
“I’m asking for a loan to save Bright Hearts Ranch. I’ve mentioned that my financial position is less than ideal. We do a lot of good work at the ranch and I can supply dozens of testimonials to that effect. I’ve put together a cost analysis for what we need to improve the grounds and remain open. The presentation has already been sent to your email but I’d be happy to send it again and we can go over all the details in person.”
Even though he doesn’t interrupt, my heart begins to sink. His expression becomes a combination of boredom and contempt. I can already tell he will refuse.
“Mercedes,” he says in the voice he uses when he’s about to deliver an unsolicited lecture. “You’ve made your own decisions and you’ve done so with a complete disregard for my opinion. Your future was all set and you chose to throw it all away on a whim.”
“It wasn’t a whim, Dad. It was my dream.”
“You are no longer eight years old. It’s time to behave like an adult. One minute your dream is to marry a good man and settle down. The next minute you’re running off to open an animal farm. What does that say about your sense of responsibility?”
What a crock. He never gave Hadley this level of grief over her failed marriages and her trail of lost careers. Meanwhile, my brother the golden boy just sits there like a toad on a rock even though my father’s checkbook is no doubt wide open to satisfy his political ambitions.
The tightness in my throat warns that tears aren’t far behind.
I can’t cry in front of them. My father will sigh with disgust. My brother will turn away with embarrassment.
I lift my chin and keep my voice even. “I am not irresponsible. If you could just fly out for a day or two and visit the ranch-”
“Out of the question,” he says. “The Dukes are in the middle of the season. And now there’s also Baylor’s campaign to consider. None of us have the time for a vacation to play in the dirt.”
If I’d eaten breakfast then I might feel like throwing up right now. I know I’m not at the top of my father’s priority list. If anything, I’m more like a footnote. His words shouldn’t sting as much as they do. Swallowing hard, I force the tears away and stare down at the tips of my boots.
“He wasn’t a good man,” I whisper.
“If you want to make a statement, Mercedes, then don’t mumble.”
I lift my head. “Grant wasn’t a good man.”
My father’s brows furrow and his handsome face darkens to a frown. For a second I think he’s going to ask what I mean by that.
But that might open the door to a messy and emotional moment and Asher Wingate isn’t a fan of either one.
He takes a step toward the window. “As your father, I’m going to share a vital piece of advice with you.”
“Can’t wait,” I mutter.
He doesn’t hear me. “There is no quality more valuable than a determined work ethic. If you are failing at your endeavor then it’s because you have not invested all of your energy into success. I speak from experience on that point.”
Throughout his speech I’ve been biting my lip because I know I shouldn’t say the next words.
On the other hand, there’s no chance my family will do anything except gloat over my distress.
Therefore, I might as well set the whole bridge on fire. At least I’ll maintain a shred of dignity.
“Dad, you inherited millions and a pro hockey team. You’re hardly a rags to riches to story.”
I think I hear a smothered laugh from Baylor but when I look at him he’s fiddling with his phone. My father’s cheeks instantly flush with anger. He’s not used to being insulted. The novelty has rendered him momentarily speechless.
As for me, I’ve said everything I need to say right now and I have a phone call to make.
Nobody begs me to come back when I turn and leave.
I wait until I’m back upstairs in my room to pull out my phone. My heart pounds and the seconds stretch out as the ringer bleats three times.
Then Cale’s deep voice says, “Good morning, Sadie.”
I have to clear my throat in order to find my voice. “Does your offer from last night still stand?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely.”
Deep breath.
Okay, that didn’t help much.
I close my eyes and seal my fate.
“You can count me in, Cale.”
He doesn’t sound the least bit surprised. “Get packed. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”