I Cross My Heart Read online

  “Thanks for coming on such short notice.” Bethany liked Morgan’s warm, firm handshake.

  “No problem. I’ve discovered in ranching country the sales are few and far between, but when they come, they’re substantial.”

  “Not if you’re talking about the Triple G, I’m afraid. It’s seen better days. And it’s small.”

  “Yes, but the view is wonderful and lots of clients prefer something smaller.” Morgan glanced around, pausing briefly at the large black lump that used to be the recliner. But she didn’t comment and her gaze moved on. “I see what you mean about the upkeep, but it’s possible someone would buy it for the land alone.”

  Bethany’s stomach flipped. If someone bought it for the land, it went without saying that they’d tear down the buildings and start over. Although such a plan was completely logical, the concept made her queasy. Apparently she cared about this old wreck of a place, after all.

  Morgan pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. She had gorgeous eyes, a startling turquoise color. Her expression softened in understanding. “You grew up here, right?”

  Bethany nodded. Silly, but her throat was too tight to speak.

  “Are you sure you want to sell it? Because I can’t guarantee that the new owners will leave the buildings intact.”

  Bethany cleared her throat. “I have to sell it. I have too much going on in my life to worry about maintaining this ranch.”

  “You could hire somebody.”

  Once again she thought of Nash. If she didn’t sell it, would he consider living here and keeping it up for her? No, that wouldn’t work. She and Nash had different dreams and they’d be better off making a clean break when the week was over.

  She glanced at Morgan. “No, I’m sure I want to sell it and forget it.” Even as she said that, she knew the chances of forgetting this place were slim. It was still in her blood. She could feel it.

  “Okay. And even though a buyer might take down the buildings, they might not, too. Some people love things to be weathered and rustic. I’m just warning you, so you’re not grief-stricken if you come back and find it all changed.”

  “I won’t come back.” She especially wouldn’t if Nash bought it. She couldn’t picture him living on this ranch alone. Once he had a place of his own, he’d go looking for a woman to share it with. Bethany didn’t care to drive in and discover some other chick tending flowers on the porch and maybe bouncing Nash’s kid on her hip.

  “All righty, then. Where would you like to start?”

  “How about the barn?”

  “That works.” Morgan was dressed in boots and jeans, but she wore a yellow scoop-necked T-shirt in deference to the warmth of the morning.

  Knowing she’d be tramping around the property, Bethany had dug out a pair of boots from her closet. She hadn’t worn them in ages. They had to be at least fifteen years old, and the minute she’d put them on, she’d felt like a teenager again. It wasn’t a bad feeling, surprisingly enough.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Morgan said as they walked toward the barn, which was about fifty yards from the house.

  Bethany sighed. “He didn’t have a very good end, I’m afraid. And I didn’t make it here in time.”

  “That’s rough.”

  “I don’t think he wanted me here. We weren’t close, and he kept saying everything was fine. I knew it wasn’t, but I was afraid to come back and find...well, this.” She swept an arm to encompass the horse barn, the tractor barn, the chicken coop and various corrals.

  “It must be heartbreaking for you.”

  “My dad didn’t maintain this part very well at the best of times. The house, though—that’s where the heartbreak sets in.” She paused before the barn door. It had been open when she’d pulled in yesterday, so she’d seen no point in closing it and possibly trapping whatever wild creatures might be living in there. “Let me go first. I haven’t been inside yet.”

  “Don’t blame you.”

  Bethany stepped through the door and listened. Silence. Then she heard fluttering and glanced up. Birds had nested in the rafters, which were filled with cobwebs. She was glad she hadn’t closed in the birds. They might have babies by now. A mouse scurried across the floor and disappeared through an open stall door.

  The barn still smelled faintly of hay, but the last horse had been sold months ago, so any remaining manure had dried up and lost its scent. She chose not to inspect the tack hanging on a wall, or the three saddles resting on sawhorses. If mice had taken over, they’d probably chewed the leather.

  “I think it’s safe to come in,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t see or hear anything dangerous.”

  Morgan walked through the door. “I checked out the roof a little. From the ground, it doesn’t look too bad. Maybe it needs some patching, but I couldn’t see any obvious damage. Replace the hinges on the door, sweep the place out, get yourself a cat, and this barn would be workable.”

  “Good to know.” Bethany congratulated herself on her casual reply. The longer she stayed in the barn, the more sentimental she became. She’d had a horse stabled in this barn. Gingerbread had been twenty-five when her father bought the gelding for Bethany’s sixth birthday. She’d ridden him for ten years before he got into some bad hay and that was that.

  She hadn’t thought about Gingerbread in a long time, but she remembered sunlit rides through fields of purple lupine. Sometimes her dad would come along and occasionally her mom would, too. A few times she’d invited friends from school, but mostly she’d ridden alone. And she’d loved it.

  “I count six stalls,” Morgan said. “That’s plenty for a ranch this size.”

  “We never filled them all, either. Three horses were the most we ever had at one time. My dad thought he’d enjoy owning a ranch, but the reality of it was never really his thing.”

  “It isn’t for everyone. So, shall we move on?”

  “Sure.” She reminded herself that Morgan was here to assess the property and get on with her day. Bethany could take a stroll down memory lane later.

  The tractor barn contained one rusty tractor and her dad’s aging blue pickup. Seeing that old truck brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away. Not now.

  “If either the truck or the tractor run, you could consider selling them with the ranch,” Morgan said.

  “I’ll check that out. If they don’t run, I’ll arrange to have them towed.”

  “Okay. Once again, this building seems sound. A little work on the roof, maybe some fresh paint, and it would be serviceable. It’s less critical than the barn because the vehicles won’t try to get out.”

  Bethany smiled. “Thanks. This tour could use a touch of humor. Sorry if I’ve been too grim.”

  “I know it must be hard, but you’re holding up great.” Morgan gave Bethany’s shoulder a squeeze.

  “Happiness is a choice.” Bethany said it without thinking. Whoops.

  “You’ve got that right.” Morgan paused to look at her as if trying to remember something. “There’s something familiar about you, Bethany. I’ve thought so ever since I arrived.”

  “I went to school here, so if you did, too, that could be it.” She decided a change of scenery might sidetrack this discussion. “Ready to see the house?”

  “Absolutely.” Morgan walked beside Bethany toward the shabby little ranch house. “I don’t think it was school I know you from. My folks moved around a lot. Still do, in fact. I was only here for one semester. But...wait a minute, it’s coming to me. Bethany Grace! That’s where I read Happiness Is a Choice. You wrote Living with Grace! Your picture’s on the dustcover of the book, and so is that quote.”

  Bethany sighed. Trust her to locate the one person in town besides Nash Bledsoe who’d heard of her. “Yep, I am and it is.”

  “My mother loves th
at book! She gave it to all us kids for Christmas last year. She will be so excited that I’ve actually met you.”

  Dread swirled in Bethany’s tummy. “Does your mom live here?”

  “No. Well, my folks spend part of the year here, but they’re vagabonds. Right now they’re over in Ojai, California, at a spiritual retreat. I’ll bet my mom’s read every motivational book ever published, but she really liked yours.”

  Bethany knew better than to ask if Morgan had read it. She’d mentioned that it was a Christmas gift, and this was June. She hadn’t said a single word about how much she had enjoyed it. That was okay with Bethany. Not everyone was into self-help.

  But she needed to do some damage control. “Morgan, I have a favor to ask. Could you please not tell anyone who I am? I mean, you can say something to your mom, since she doesn’t live here. But the Triple G is...not something I want the world to hear about, at least not when it looks like this.”

  Morgan nodded. “You’re a public figure, so I understand completely.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your discretion.” The tension eased from Bethany’s shoulders. “I can imagine the reaction going one of two ways, neither of them good. Either the media will play up the irony of me having a father who wasn’t living with grace, or it will praise me for overcoming the handicap of growing up in depressing circumstances. My dad wasn’t perfect, but I don’t want his story sensationalized.”

  “Of course you don’t. Tell you what. I won’t mention you to my mom until the ranch is either fixed up or sold. The sooner one of those two things happens, the better. It’s always possible someone else will recognize you before you accomplish that.”

  “Nash Bledsoe knows.” Bethany didn’t feel right guaranteeing Morgan’s silence without telling her about Nash. “His ex was a fan of my books, and he put two and two together.”

  Morgan’s jaw dropped. “The Wicked Witch of the West read your books?”

  “You knew her?”

  “Not personally, but Nash has said enough that I’m sure I wouldn’t care for her at all. If half of what I’ve heard is true, she must not have absorbed your message.”

  “Oh, she picked up on Happiness Is a Choice, all right, and she clubbed him over the head with it whenever he objected to her patronizing behavior. He was supposed to be happy being her whipping boy.”

  “Sadistic bitch.” Morgan glanced at Bethany. “So Nash knows who you are, but he’s okay with it? He’s not blaming you for contributing to his misery?”

  “He’d love to, but he’s a better man than that.” Instantly Bethany wished she’d made the comment with less warmth.

  Morgan’s gaze flickered. “He’s a good guy.” She paused. “He tells everyone that’s the last time he’ll hook up with a woman who has more money than he does.”

  “You can’t blame him.” She wasn’t sure if Morgan was warning her or protecting Nash, but either way, the comment underscored Nash’s intentions toward her. He was in it for the sex. In a way, she was relieved to know he’d guard his heart.

  “I’m glad you hired him to work on the place,” Morgan said. “He came out of the divorce broke, and he could use the money. It’s crazy that he happened to know who you are, but I’ll bet you won’t bump into anyone else who recognizes you. The people around here don’t seem prone to reading motivational books.” She winced. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I meant—”

  “It’s okay, Morgan.” Bethany laughed. “I’m glad they don’t. I’d rather be anonymous right now.” As she said that she realized how much she’d enjoyed not being a celebrity for the past twenty-four hours. Her success thrilled her, but being in the public eye took some getting used to. “Come on in the house. I have coffee and brownies.”

  “Yum.” Morgan followed her up the creaky porch steps. “If I can have a few minutes on my tablet, I may be able to give you a rough idea of a good asking price before I leave.”

  “That would be awesome.” She had another thought. “Do you suppose the Chances are interested? I hadn’t considered that until just now. Maybe they want to increase their acreage.”

  She wondered if the idea had occurred to Nash. He was loyal to that family and if they wanted the ranch, he might back off. The possibility made her sad. Yeah, she wanted to help him make his dream come true. He’d had that kind of effect on her.

  “I don’t know if they’re interested or not, but if you’re at all worried that I might let my connection to them affect my obligation to get you the best price, then I’d be happy to suggest a different agent.” Morgan didn’t sound at all upset. She was obviously a real pro.

  “Heavens, no.” Bethany held the screen door open for her. “The Chances have a great reputation around here for being straight shooters. I’d trust a member of the Chance family way more than some real estate agent I don’t know.”

  “Thanks.” Morgan gave her a smile as she walked inside. “That’s great to hear. The coffee smells wonderful, by the way.”

  Bethany had made the coffee for two reasons. Having it available was a gracious gesture and she’d written a whole book about gracious gestures. But the aroma also helped disguise the stale odor that permeated most of the house.

  Morgan paused to study the living room. “Crown molding and a pressed tin ceiling. I’ll bet this could be pretty.”

  “It used to be. Take out the trashed sofa, the easy chair and that cheap coffee table, put up new window coverings, replace the carpet...”

  “I’d bet dollars to donuts there’s hardwood under there.”

  “Could be. I was young when the carpet went in, but I have a vague memory of wooden floors.”

  Morgan’s eyes lit with enthusiasm. “Are you committed to replacing the carpet?”

  Until now, Bethany hadn’t thought about it, but Morgan’s comment made her realize how gratifying it would be to get rid of the hideous, smelly shag. “Yes.”

  “So you’ll be ripping the old stuff out, for sure, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent. If you can locate an X-Acto knife, we can find out what’s under there.”

  “Dirt. And God knows what other disgusting stuff you don’t want to know about. Besides, you’ll mess up your clothes.”

  “That’s why I wear jeans, boots and sensible shirts. I couldn’t get away with this outfit in the big city, but here it works. Dirt and dead bugs don’t scare me. Hardwood floors will add to the value of the house.”

  “I suppose.” At least she’d vacuumed the carpet, although her mother’s old machine no longer worked very well.

  “A good hardwood floor might even save the house from being torn down. Plus I live for these kinds of discoveries.”

  “Really?”

  Morgan laughed. “I know. I’m a real estate geek.”

  “Let me see what tools I can find in the kitchen. Come on back.” She led Morgan through the dining room. Anything that would help save the house from the wrecking ball was worth the time. She was also impressed with Morgan’s determination, which was a good quality in a salesperson.

  Morgan smiled as they passed through the dining room. “Oh, I love this space.”

  “Thanks. Me, too.” After last night, it would never seem the same. This was where she’d kissed Nash, right before they’d made a beeline for her bedroom.

  “You’ve been here such a short time, but you’ve already put your stamp on the house with fresh flowers, candles and a nice tablecloth. I’ll bet none of that was here when you arrived.”

  “The tablecloth was, and the candlesticks.” Bethany continued on into the kitchen. Those items would always remind her of Nash Bledsoe, fantasy cowboy and lover extraordinaire. That meant she probably shouldn’t keep them. Opening the kitchen junk drawer, she rummaged around and came up with an X-Acto knife. “Aha!”

  “Perfect. Is
it okay if I put my stuff on your kitchen table? I want both hands free so I can tear into that carpet.”

  “Go ahead.” Bethany couldn’t help smiling. “You really get into this, don’t you?”

  “I do.” She took the knife and marched back into the living room. “My parents and eight kids lived in a hippie van my entire childhood. My parents and some of my siblings loved it. I hated it. So every home, mine or someone else’s, is precious to me.”

  “I imagine it would be.” And the longer they talked about this house, the more Bethany acknowledged that she was more attached to it than she’d realized. Selling it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d first thought.

  Morgan knelt by the nearest wall and began to cut through the ancient carpet. It was so threadbare that the job didn’t take long. Caught up in Morgan’s excitement, Bethany sank down next to her.

  When Morgan had made a cut about a foot long and six inches on each side, she reached under the flap of carpeting and pulled. Dust flew, and they both coughed. Morgan waved the dust away, ripped through the flimsy padding and gave a shout of triumph.

  “Hardwood! Oak, it looks like.” She grinned at Bethany. “You have to tear this carpet out and get the floors polished. It would be criminal to put new carpeting in. I’d offer to help take out the old stuff, but my daughter Sarah’s second birthday is in a couple of weeks and it’s shaping up to be a frickin’ coronation, plus I’m nursing little Jonathan, who just turned three months, and...”

  “Don’t even think about helping,” Bethany said. “This is my week to settle everything at the Triple G, and if you can take care of the listing, I’ll do the rest.”

  “I can definitely take care of the listing. And your ace in the hole is Nash. He could have this carpet out of here in no time. He’s handy.”

  “Right.” She got to her feet and hoped Morgan wouldn’t notice that she was blushing. “Although I was planning to assign him to outside renovation first.” Sort of. Unless other, more personal activities took him away from that chore.

  “How you make use of his time is up to you, but this floor will be a major selling point so I’d suggest bringing Nash in here to help you.”