Chapter Five
I stop in the middle of the retreat’s pier on Bearclaw Lake. Ducks weave through the wood pilings in a competition for the best morsels. I turn around and survey the space where the B&B used to be.
It's been over two weeks since the fire, and nature is creeping back. The piles of dirt where the B&B stood now have little green shoots making their way through the soil.
Mark and Josh Iverson stand beside the dirt piles.
Lord only knows what they're talking about. Architects? Contractors? Materials and equipment? The rebuilding is proceeding at breakneck pace. Every time I turn around, there’s another decision that needs to be made this very second about the size of the lake-facing exterior or another tree removal.
The insurance adjuster and the contractors are optimistic about getting the foundation laid before the winter freeze. They say the retreat should be ready to accept guests this time next year.
Mark says something and Josh laughs like it’s hilarious.
I had no idea Mark had a family connection to the owner of the most popular digital detox resort in the country.
Turns out their fathers were in the same frat at Stanford.
So, Mark felt comfortable ringing Josh out of the blue.
A week later, Josh arrived on a private jet to check out the little corner of the world where I want to start a humble retreat.
Lucky me.
Josh has plenty of opinions about how the retreat should be set up, and it sounds like these ideas would turn my retreat into a luxury resort like he has in Virginia, which is not what I want.
I’m not interested in recruiting a Michelin-starred chef or hiring a sommelier. I want to keep it simple. Give people a stocked kitchen where they can make their own meals. We’ll have on-site workers to take care of the property and a concierge who can assist guests who want to explore the area.
I’m not catering to the top point-one percent of the population. I want to make the retreat reasonably affordable.
The two guys walk toward the area of recently cleared trees where Josh thinks I should install a putting green.
More food for thought.
I turn toward the lake and walk down the pier, loving the feel of the wind against my face.
Since Mark arrived, he’s been doing savior duty, which he’s fundamentally good at doing to a point.
At first glance, he seems incredibly generous. He’ll part with money, advice, and affection like it’s second nature. But that’s not really how he works.
Once something becomes inconvenient, like his marriage vows when he wants to sleep with his assistant, he’s no longer interested in being the good guy.
He was the good guy when he offered me an interest-free loan to purchase the property in Santa Barbara for the digital detox retreat.
But not for the Bearclaw Lake property. That wasn’t convenient for him.
I’m pretty sure he married me due to his savior complex.
He thought of himself as rescuing me from a poor, rural upbringing.
Whispering Pines is a small town with a decent tourist economy.
My father works for major agriculture corporation.
I didn’t need rescuing. But in contrast to the lifestyle Mark was raised with, I was very much in need of his help.
My fault was believing he had more to offer me than I had to offer him.
I'm afraid one day he's going to find Lara inconvenient. He absolutely adores her now, but her wishes also align with his. I wonder what will happen when she doesn’t want to go on the vacations he chooses? To the schools he thinks are best? Or visit when it works best for him?
Mark never questioned the terms of the divorce. He’d rather endure blunt force trauma than be thought of as a deadbeat dad or give me reason to complain to everyone we know.
I hate that it feels right letting him step into the savior role. Relying on him is a habit I can’t break. It always seems like the logical thing to do.
Mark nods at something Josh says, and they point toward the wooded area down the shoreline. I head up the pier, readying myself for the volley of suggestions they’re going to throw my way. At the bottom of the stairs, I pull out my phone. Message from Gabriella.
It’s been a while since I heard from her. Is she finally planning her trip to Whispering Pines? I assume she’ll bring the kids. Her oldest is like a sister to Lara.
I click on the message. Sammy, If you're reading this, I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I want you to know I treasure every minute of our friendship.
I never planned for this to happen. Looking back, I'm not even sure how it all started. Last month, I ran into Mark at the Foster's place in Tahoe. We started talking and things evolved.
I can't tell you how confused I've been. I just want you to know that I love you and I love Lara. Whatever happens, that will never change.
I reread the message, my tongue thick in my mouth. I tighten my grasp the phone to keep it from falling.
Gabriella is apologizing for getting together with Mark.
They’re a couple.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. Gabriella and I were friends.
Not acquaintances, but good friends. The type of friends who have wine and pizza nights with the kids at least once a week.
The type of friends who take weekend trips to Disneyland and Legoland.
How could she possibly think it was okay to get involved with my ex-husband?
How serious are they? It's only been going on for a month. She must think Mark already told me. Why else would she be grateful to me for opening her text?
What the hell is going on?
I stomp up the stairs and across the lawn to where Mark and Josh are facing the lake and talking. I must be completely transparent because one look at my face and Mark loses color in his.
“How are things going?” I mean to ask brightly, but my voice comes out high-pitched and strained.
Mark shoots me a not-here-not-now look. “Josh thinks you might want to consider a more dispersed layout for the retreat. You could have a central dwelling for the restaurant. Or for the dining room and kitchen like you were thinking about. Then you could house the guests in cabins. He thinks the property could hold about fifteen cabins comfortably. But that depends on the Bearclaw Lake building provisions. Do you know anything about the regulations?”
The very last thing I’m capable of discussing is Bearclaw Lake building regulations. “I'll look into it later. In the meantime, we need to head back to town.”
Josh looks at his watch. “Yeah. My flight to Aspen leaves from De Clair in a few hours.”
I turn to Mark. “Can I have a word with you before we head back to town?”
“Ah, yeah.” He looks around like he’s searching for privacy. “Why don’t we head down to the pier?”
“Actually, I’d like to get another look at the pier,” Josh says.
In silence, we watch Josh walk to the pier. I fold my hands across my chest. I’m hurt. I’m angry. All the time I spent with Gabriella, talking about her ex-husband and what a dick he was. Her pain was my pain. I’d come home and tell Mark what she was going through and how she didn’t deserve it.
Hell, maybe she did deserve it.
I stay facing forward, beyond caring to witness his reaction. “I just received a text from Gabriella. What’s going on between you two?”
“I didn't think she'd jump the gun. I told her that I was going to talk to you.”
“You’ve been here for three days, and you haven’t mentioned a word about her.” I bristle with anger. He’s such a fucking wimp not to tell me. Does he realize how weak this makes him look that she was the one who told me? “I take it you’re seeing each other.”
“We are. I like her. She likes me.”
Neither of them gives a shit about me.
“Her kids miss Lara, you know?” He sounds so petulant.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I snap back.
“We all miss Lara.”
God, is he making this my fault? I moved away with Lara. They were so upset they had no choice but to start fucking? Emotion gathers in my throat. I won't break down in front of Mark. “We need to go now,” I say, stepping toward the driveway. “Lara's going to be home from school soon.”
Numb with sadness and disbelief, I get in the back seat of the BMW Mark borrowed from a dealer in De Clair.
“You’ve got a special location on the lake,” Josh says as we get back on Bearclaw Pass. He talks about Mark and I expanding the retreat if we acquired one of the neighboring properties.
Does he think Mark’s my partner? Why wouldn’t he? I’d think the same if I saw the way he’s taking control of the rebuilding.
Half-listening, I open my texts with Brady. The last time we texted was when I told him to come over to show me the video footage from the B&B camera.
That night was going so well until I told him about Mark coming to stay with us. I felt like I had to say something. What if he saw Mark and I having dinner with Lara at Pines Diner? Or heard through the grapevine my ex was staying with us?
I felt like I had to explain to him where Mark and I stand. The marriage is over, but he’s still a crucial part of our lives.
But should he be?
I don’t trust him. I haven’t trusted him since the cheating. I thought I could have a relationship with him for Lara’s sake, and the obvious benefits I receive from his support, even while not trusting him.
Then I end up wondering why I don’t feel safe. Why I feel so damn lonely.
We hit the curvy stretch of Bearclaw Pass. At the risk of nausea, I focus on the phone’s screen. Sorry if this is out of the blue. (blue sky emoji). I was wondering if you’d be interested in getting a drink at Winkles Saloon tomorrow night?
Mildly nauseous, I put the phone down and shut my eyes.
I picture Brady at my house the other night.
He looked good in that ivory Henley. It felt natural having dinner with him and Mom and Lara.
Everyone was comfortable. No one was walking on eggshells and watching what they said so they didn’t seem stupid or poor.
My shoulders soften. I sink into the back seat and let my mind drift to the way he looks at me with those hazel eyes like he wants to make mad love then cuddle me to sleep. Like I’m his.
I wake up five minutes before the morning alarm goes off. The sky is lightening. I feel myself breaking into a smile. Brady and I have a date tonight. A sort of date? He texted back less than an hour after I asked if he wanted to go out for a drink. That constitutes interest, right?
I was so pumped about the date that I didn’t feel the need to explain to Mark why he and Lara would be having a daddy-daughter night. I take this as proof I didn’t ask Brady out because I was bitter about Mark and Gabriella.
Well, maybe I am bitter, and maybe it did motivate me to ask out Brady. But I’m happy with the result.
A message flashes on my phone. Text from Mom, of course. I open it and words jump out at me. “Tabitha and Ollie. “Camping.” “Fire at the B&B.”
I shoot out of bed and press dial on Mom’s icon.
“Honey, did you get my message?” Mom’s voice comes over the speaker.
I throw the phone on the bed and pull a pair of jeans from the closet. “Yes. What happened?”
“Cousin Tabitha and her boyfriend, Ollie, the guy who takes care of Bearclaw Pass, decided to go camping on the B&B property. You said they could.”
“Yeah. I told them it was fine.” I button my jeans and pull socks from the drawer.
“They took your car, and someone set fire to it. I’m afraid it’s another arson.”
Panic overrides my ability to make sense of anything. “I take it they're okay?”
“Tabitha says she and Ollie were completely asleep. But Ollie, being a worker at the Pass, was able to take swift action and get the right people there fast.”
My mouth is bone dry. Brady must be fighting the fire.
This would be his day off, but those guys still have to respond even when they’re off duty.
And Brady has the special wildland fire training.
“Do you have any idea about the extent of the fire? What about the firemen? Is Brady there? Do you know?”
“I haven’t heard anything like that."
I grab a sweatshirt. “How did they end up with my car?”
“You have my Cherokee, remember? We traded because I was going into De Clair. Tabitha’s car is in the shop, so I lent her your car to go meet Ollie.”
“Of course.” I feel like some beast is sucking the life out of me. I rush downstairs. The house is quiet. Mark and Lara are still asleep. I’ll text him when I’m on the road. “Mom, I'm taking your car to the lake.”
“No, don’t be ridiculous, Honey. Don’t go out there.”
I stop at the refrigerator, poised to grab a water from inside. “I have to.”
“Absolutely not. It’s not safe. You stay put. I’m coming over.”
“What? No.” I glance at the kitchen clock. “It’s six in the morning.”
“I’m up. You’re up. I’m coming over.”
“How?”
“I’ll take Dad’s car.”
I flop down on the chair around the breakfast table. She’s right. There’s no point in my going out there. I don’t fight fires. Apparently, I only host them on my B&B property. “Fine. Come over.”
I pull up my texts with Brady. I heard about the fire. Are you there? I hope everyone is okay. (prayer emoji)
The toilet flushes somewhere upstairs. Probably Mark. He’s going to lose it when he hears about the fire. He’s going to tell me to take the lower amount from the insurance company and buy the Santa Barbara acreage for the retreat.
I glance outside. Daylight is breaking over the horizon. Thank God Tabitha and Ollie are okay.
Everything I own seems to get set on fire. Who would do this to me?
This isn’t the universe telling me to leave. It’s a criminal.
Should I listen? What will happen to my family if I don’t?