Free Mountain Heiress: Mountain Midwife by Cassie Miles Page A

perfect workroom for my designs and sewing. And there really isn’t any reason to go back to Brooklyn. No boyfriend. No job worth keeping. And I gave my share of the apartment I was renting to my roommate, whose fiancé moved in with her.”
    “This might be the time for you to change location.”
    “That’s exactly what I was thinking, but not anymore.” She dug into her purse and took out a pair of sunglasses. “When Fox said living at the Roost was mandated by the will, I wanted to run, to be anywhere but here. I hate being told what I have to do.”
    “Why am I not surprised?”
    Midway down the next block, they entered a casual restaurant that featured thirty-two varieties of burger, ranging from tofu to steak tartare. At half past three in the afternoon, there were only a few other patrons, and Zach chose a table for four where there was room enough to open the file folder and take a peek inside. His suspicions of Fox made him wonder how the attorney might benefit financially based on Gabby’s decisions.
    After they’d ordered—a portobello mushroom sandwich and draft beer for her and a cheeseburger and soda for him—he flipped through the papers until he found a copy of the actual will. The document was over twenty-five pages, single-spaced and written in lawyer language that made it difficult to skim. He noticed that Michelle’s initials were on every page.
    Gabby took off her sunglasses and leaned across the table toward him. “What are you looking for?”
    “An indication of what Fox hopes to gain.”
    “If he sells the place, there’s probably some kind of commission.” She tilted her head as though she could read the fine print upside down. “He might have made some kind of side deal with the Forest Preservation lady.”
    “Sarah Bentley? Not likely.” He’d met Sarah on a committee that planned local rodeo events. Her concerns matched his own: making sure the animals were treated humanely. “She’s not the kind of person who would get involved with shady business.”
    “What was her connection with Michelle?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Did Michelle ever talk to you about this plan to make me live at the Roost?”
    “Not in so many words.” He remembered many evenings when he and Michelle sat on her porch and watched the sunset. The subject of family seldom arose. Zach had cut all ties with his parents back in Wyoming, didn’t know if they were dead or alive and didn’t really give a damn. Michelle had confided a secret he wasn’t ready to share with Gabby.
    “Did she ever say why she settled here?” she asked.
    He pieced together other bits of conversation into a narrative that didn’t reveal too much. “She used to talk about being a rebel—an artist who lived to express herself. Then she’d laugh and say, ‘We all did crazy things in the sixties.’”
    “I don’t think Michelle ever stopped doing crazy things, and I guess that served her well as an artist.” Gabby sipped her beer and licked her lips. “But it doesn’t explain why she set up these conditions for me to live at the Roost.”
    He saw hints of Michelle in the way she cocked her chin and the intensity in her dark eyes. But Gabby wasn’t a rebel who would take off across the country on a whim. “Maybe she wanted to give you a chance to follow your dream.”
    “Then she should have consulted with me first. My dreams start with getting more schooling. Then I’d take an internship in Paris or Milan.”
    “Exotic places.”
    “The fashion capitals of the world,” she said, “but I can’t complain about not being exposed to the latest trends. I lived so close to Manhattan, twenty minutes away on the subway. During Fashion Week, I sneaked into more events than most people see in a lifetime.”
    “Did you ever think about being a model?”
    “Not possible,” she said. “I’m a few inches too short and definitely not a size zero.”
    “You’re pretty enough.”
    A huge smile spread across her face.