Good Together (21 page)

So Mattie had backed off. But she’d worried. And it had turned out to be unnecessary because Portia seemed to have the knack of knowing just how hard to work to get what she wanted—without expending an iota of extra effort.

“Have you see Portia this week?”

“Not since the Thanksgiving break. In fact yesterday was the first time she skipped out on my psych class. I suppose she was making up for lost time with her friends.”

“Maybe.” Mattie sighed. She supposed she just needed to blurt out the news. “Or maybe she’s still upset from the news I told her when she was home. Wes and I have split up.”

There was a long silence. Then Dani, who usually spoke in a logical, no-nonsense tone, said very gently. “I’m sorry, Mattie. When Wes didn’t come for the rodeo this fall, I was worried there might be problems.”

“I thought it was just a rough patch. But it’s a lot more.” Mattie stared into the fireplace wishing she’d thought to start a log burning earlier. It felt so cold in here. Outside, the wind was blowing hard, causing the house the creak and moan. Hopefully blowing better weather in for tomorrow.

“Did it have something to do with his buddy getting killed last spring?”

“Yes. More than I thought. I figured the accident would make him re-evaluate his career. At least I hoped it would. But what I didn’t count on was the fact that Dex Cooper had named Wes executor of his will—which seemed to require that Wes spend a lot of time with Dex’s wife, Suzanne.”

“Oh, hell. Don’t tell me Wes and Suzanne...?”

“Yup. My neighbor, Nat, just helped me track them down. They’re living together in a guest cabin on a friends’ property up by Billings.”

“She sure moved on fast.”

“According to Wes, she was pregnant when Dex died. She lost the baby soon after.”

“Oh my God. This just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it?”

“Hang on. You haven’t heard it all, yet. Wes is looking for a buyer for the house and the land. And he’s already sold all our horses. The last of them are getting picked up tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I never did take to horses like the rest of you, but I know you love them almost as much as your kids.”

Mattie was surprised by how compassionate and sympathetic Dani was being. She was about to thank her for her support, when Dani’s logical side suddenly kicked in.

“I hope you’ve got yourself a good lawyer?”

“I-I’m working on that. First thing tomorrow.” She’d phone Nat. Surely he could recommend someone.

“Good. You’ve got to protect your rights. Once you’ve done that, you should think about coming here for visit. Or head to Marietta and stay with Sage for a bit. She’s spending so much time with that hunky cowboy of hers, that you’d have lots of privacy.”

“I’ll think about it, Dani.” She hesitated, wondering if Sage had ever told her about their mother having an affair—and how their dad had known about it all along. But, even if Dani did know, that situation was totally different from the one she and Wes were in that there was no point in bringing it up.

Even so, she thought it was telling that Dani didn’t once suggest that she and Wes try to work things out. “Nineteen years ago,” she said softly, “I never would have guessed we’d end up this way.”

“I wish I could claim to be equally surprised.”

“You never did warm up to Wes, did you?”

“Wes is one of those cowboys whose eyes light up when he’s in the company of a beautiful woman. I wanted my sister to be with a man whose eyes lit up only for her.”

* * *

P
ortia read the text message from her Mom and responded quickly with, “I’m good. You?” She was in a funky coffee shop, miles from campus, with Kirsten, Jared, and Noah. It turned out that neither Noah nor Jared was enrolled in the university. They were struggling artists who worked at Twisted Perceptions, a cooperative coffee and art shop where a collective of workers alternated between working in the kitchen, behind the counter, and cleaning tables. The rest of the time they were free to create their art in the open gallery on the second floor.

All the walls, almost every square inch of them, were covered in works from the various artists. Right now Portia was studying one of Noah’s. It was a mixed media effort. She couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say about it. So she just sort of went, “Wow,” every now and then.

Noah seemed happy with that.

She’d been hanging out here for two days now. Tomorrow she’d definitely have to start going to her classes again. But she liked being at Twisted Perceptions, where there was always action and music, new people coming in, and all the free coffee she could drink, thanks to Noah.

In the evenings, a few tables were pushed together to make room for live musicians, who played for free, just for the practice and exposure. Then she and Noah would dance, sneaking out back every now and then for the beer that they were both officially too young to drink.

They made out some, too. Portia had made it clear that she was only willing to go so far—and Noah seemed, if not happy, at least resigned.

She wasn’t sure how much longer that would last, which was a worry, because she didn’t think she could come here on her own. It was such a cool place, it made Portia wish she had some sort of artistic talent. Though, she
did
think she could paint as well as most of the artists who hung out here.

“I’m getting the evil eye again,” Noah said, getting up from his chair. “I’ve got to go load up the dishwasher and stuff.”

“Me, too.” Jared, who’d had his arm around Kirsten, while they whispered and laughed in the corner, pushed back his chair, the legs scraping obnoxiously on the wooden floor. “I’ll be back in a bit. You’ll still be here?”

“We will,” Kirsten promised. She kept her eyes on the guys until they’d disappeared behind the curtain that closed off the kitchen from the rest of the café, then turned to Portia and gave her a big smile. “Aren’t they yummy? Soooo cute.”

Portia nodded. Jared reminded her of the guy who played Arrow on TV. He had short brown hair, nice features, and a muscle-builder’s body. Both guys went to the gym almost every day. Plus they were obsessed about these green smoothies that tasted to Portia like blended grass.

“My Mom would kill me if she knew I cut classes two days in a row.” Kirsten’s eyes were bright as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It feels good to me. I don’t know what your life was like before college, but for me every hour was filled with school, or activities, or tutoring. I had to account for where I was every minute of the day. To go from that, to this—perfect freedom—is just amazing.”

“It is.” She and her sister hadn’t had crazy schedules, but their mother had been the kind who always wanted to know where they were.
Her
mother wouldn’t be angry if she could see her now. She’d be disappointed.

Portia glanced around the room, seeking some sort of distraction. The reason she was here was to forget about her family problems. And being reminded of her mom didn’t help. “I’m going upstairs to see how that girl is coming along with her picture of that turtle.” One of the artists was working on a life-sized water color of a sea turtle she’d seen on a vacation to Maui. It was Portia’s favorite and she could hardly wait for it to be completed.

“I’ll let you know if the guys get a break,” Kirsten said, staying in her seat.

Portia took the stairs slowly, her exhaustion catching up to her. She hadn’t slept well at home and even worse since she’d arrived back in Seattle. It seemed that no matter how late she stayed out at night, she still couldn’t fall asleep once she went to bed. Last night she’d made the mistake of phoning her sister around two in the morning.

“Wren? I can’t sleep.”

“What are you doing calling me at this hour? I have to get up for class in four hours.”

“Oh, God. Are you still going to classes? How can you concentrate?”

“My classes are the only thing keeping me sane right now.” Her sister had paused, then asked, “Are you skipping class?”

“Of course not,” Portia had lied. It just figured, didn’t it, that her brainy sister would react to the breakup of their parents by studying even harder than she had before. Wren was going to end up with stellar grades, while she’d probably get kicked out of college before Christmas.

“Have you heard from Dad?” she asked.

“No.”

Portia could tell that Wren was hurt by this, as well. “What do you think is going on? Has he forgotten about all of us?”

“No,” Wren was quick to answer. “I think he’s going through some weird stuff. He’s probably afraid we’ll be on Mom’s side and give him a hard time. Which is probably true. I totally feel like giving him hell. But—”

“He’s still our dad,” Portia had whispered, holding her phone with both hands, curled up under her covers, and remembering all the times he’d tucked her in when she’d been a child. Their father had been away a lot.

But he’d also been home a lot too.

She’d sighed, then. “I hope he calls me soon.”

“Me, too. Go to sleep now Portia.”

The line had gone dead, but Portia had lain awake for hours, staring out her window and wishing she could see the moon and the stars the way she could from her bed at home.

* * *

W
ednesday morning Mattie had just finished her breakfast when she heard a rig pull into the yard. Actually Tuff heard the rumbling first. She let out one sharp bark, then ran from the front door to the side one, clearly wanting to be let out.

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re staying in here where you can’t be run over.” Mattie passed her a chew toy and pointed to the dog pillow by the back window. It was Tuff’s favorite place to rest, because all she had to do was lift her head and she could see everything happening in the back yard.

After this morning’s chores, Tuff had been reluctant to leave the barn and come back to the house. She was only four months old and already she was showing signs of being a good ranch dog. But Mattie could hardly be pleased about that when she wasn’t sure she would even be living on a ranch one year from now.

Mattie paused by the window herself, watching the progress of a silver and white half-ton pulling a two-horse trailer, the kind with living quarters attached. The driver went about as close to the barn as he could get, then climbed out of the cab and took a big stretch.

She recognized him. Tip Duvall was an up-and-coming star in the steer wrestling world. A little shorter than Wes, he had the ideal build for a cowboy—compact, wiry and solid muscle. Three years ago, Wes had pointed out the young rookie to her, saying he was going to be one of the best in the business in five years. Tip was well on the way to proving Wes correct. In fact, in every rodeo they’d been at together this year, Tip had scored much higher than Wes.

With a heavy heart, Mattie went to the mudroom to layer up. The temperature today was just below freezing—a lot warmer than when she and Nat had made their impromptu road trip to Billings. She hadn’t heard from him in the two days since. Several times she’d wanted to call, to hear his warm, reassuring voice. But she resisted. The boundaries of their long-time friendship were shifting and she was nervous about pushing them too far.

Besides, she had to learn to stand on her own two feet.

Outside, she stuck her gloved hands deep into the pockets of her parka. Sun glinted off the frothy mounds of fresh snow, making her wish she’d remembered her sunglasses.

Tip watched her approach, his stance displaying the bow in his legs common to most men who spent a lot of time on horses. It had been a few years since Wes had introduced her, but he acted like he remembered her well.

“’Morning, Mattie. It’s good to see you again.” He gave her a smile with his handshake.

“Hey, Tip. You’ve had a good year.” He’d come very close to qualifying for the Wrangler National Finals scheduled for mid-December. It was an accomplishment Wes had never achieved. Only the most talented and dedicated cowboys—those willing to be on the road almost all year long—had a shot at it.

“Thanks. Next year I hope to make the Finals with Whiskey Chaser.

“He’s a good horse,” Mattie agreed. So, down to business already. She still couldn’t believe Wes was giving up his beautiful golden quarter horse. Much as she hated this transaction, she felt obliged to be hospitable. “Are you hungry? I have coffee ready in the house. And muffins in the freezer I could thaw in the microwave.”

“I’m fine. Thank you, though. Is your barn warm? We could do our paperwork there and not need to take off our boots.”

“Sure.” She led the way, sliding the door open for him, then feeling a rush of pride as he let out a whistle.

“Now this is what I call a horse barn.” He glanced inside one of the empty stalls, then admired the parade of blue and red ribbons running down the aisles. “Is this the arena back here?”

She nodded. “Go ahead and take a look.”

He slid the door open and stepped into the dirt-packed arena where the Bishops had trained and worked their Tennessee Walkers for many decades. “Very impressive.”

“This barn was built thirty years ago and it’s still in excellent shape. I brought Whiskey Chaser in to get him all nicely groomed for you. Would you like to ride him a bit before we finalize things?”

“Not necessary. I gave him a nice workout back at the Belt Rodeo in June. We made a good team.”

Mattie felt shocked to hear this. The Belt Rodeo had been mid-June, about a month after Dex Cooper’s death. Had Wes already been thinking of selling back then? Planning to leave her as well?

“Do you have an office in here?” Tip asked.

“Sure.” As she headed for it, Tip was already pulling the papers out of the breast pocket of his jacket. In no time they had everything taken care of and it was time to take Tip to his new horse.

Princess Bride and Madame Curie nickered at her as she passed their stalls. They’d rather be outside, frolicking in the bright sunshine, but in here they’d be clean and rested for their upcoming journey. If the Ronan outfit showed up this afternoon as scheduled, tomorrow, all that would be left in the barn was the cats.