and sucked up bubbles. âAll three of us have to live there for a year, together. Or we donât get zip.â
Louella licked champagne from her lips. âYou have to live in Montana for a year? On the ranch?â Her voice began to shake. âWith the cows? You, with the cows.â
âThatâs the deal. Me, and the other two. Together.â
One hand still holding the bottle, the other braced on the counter, Louella began to laugh. She laughed so hard, so long that tears streamed down her face, running with Maybelline mascara and LâOréal ivory base.
âJesus H. Christ, the son of a bitch always could make me laugh.â
âIâm glad you think itâs so funny.â Tessâs voice cracked like ice. âYou can chuckle over it nightly while Iâm out in bumfuck watching the grass grow.â
With a flourish, Louella poured champagne into the coffee cups. âHoney, you can always spit in his eye and go on just as you are.â
âAnd give up several million in assets? I donât think so.â
âNo.â Louella sobered as she studied her daughter, this mystery she had somehow given birth to. So pretty, she mused, so cool, so sure of herself. âNo, you wouldnât. Youâre too much your fatherâs daughter for that. Youâll do the time, Tess.â
And she wondered if her daughter would get more out of it than a third interest in a cattle ranch. Would the year soften the edges, Louella wondered, or hone them?
She lifted both cups, handed one to Tess. âWhen do you leave?â
âFirst thing in the morning.â She sighed loud and long. âIâve got to go buy some goddamn boots,â she muttered, then with a small smile toasted herself. âWhat the hell. Itâs only a year.â
Â
W HILE TESS WAS DRINKING CHAMPAGNE IN HER motherâs kitchen, Lily was standing at the edge of a pasture, watching horses graze. Sheâd never seen anything more beautiful than the way the wind blew through their manes, the way the mountains rose behind, all blue and white.
For the first time in months, she had slept through the night, without pills, without nightmares, lulled by the quiet.
It was quiet now. She could hear the grind of machinery in the distance. Just a hum in the air. Sheâd heard Willa talking to someone that morning about harvesting grain, but she had wanted to stay out of the way. She could be alone here with the horses, bothering no one, with no one bothering her.
For three days sheâd been left to her own devices. No one said anything when she wandered the house, or went out toexplore the ranch. The men would tip their hats to her if they passed by, and she imagined there were comments and murmurings. But she didnât care about that.
The air here was sweet to the taste. Wherever she stood, it seemed, she could see something beautifulâwater rushing over rocks in a stream, the flash of a bird in the forest, deer bounding across the road.
She thought a year of this would be paradise.
Adam stood for a moment, the bucket in his hand, watching her. She came out here every day, he knew. Heâd seen her wander away from the house, the barn, the paddocks, and head for this pasture. She would stand by the fence, very still, very quiet.
Very alone.
Heâd waited, believing she needed to be alone. Healing was often a solitary matter. But he also believed she needed a friend. So now he walked toward her, careful to make enough noise so that she wouldnât be startled. When she turned, her smile came slow and hesitant, but it came.
âIâm sorry. Iâm not in the way here, am I?â
âYouâre not in anyoneâs way.â
Because she was already learning to be relaxed around him, she shifted her gaze back to the horses. âI love looking at them.â
âYou can have a closer look.â He didnât need the bucket of grain to lure any of the horses