Change of Heart (9 page)

“Oh, look, it’s stopped raining,” she said as she cleaned their utensils.

“About half an hour ago.”

Miranda smiled. “I guess we should go. We should—” When she looked at him, there was regret on her face. They’d had such a pleasant time that she didn’t want it to end.

Neither did Frank. “We have two and a half days with nothing whatever to do,” he said as he stood up. “Any suggestions?”

“I have no idea.” Her head came up. “Do you have a secret place where you’ve taken no other human being? A place not even your family knows about? I’d like to see
that
.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Actually, I do. In the 1880s a prospector was sure there was gold in these mountains and he lived alone up here. He went down twice a year for supplies. I found his cabin. It’s a day’s trek up there, but we could stay a night then return. I promise I’ll behave myself.”

“Darn!” Miranda said before she thought. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have—”

Bending forward, Frank smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s go home and plan our trip.”

For a fraction of a second, the backs of his fingers touched her cheek, but then he moved away.

The little touch so unnerved Miranda that she searched for something to break the silence. “Wish I’d brought my camera,” she said. “Eli would love to see photos of an old cabin.”

“I have one here. We can take it with us.”

“Great. And what do I get if we find the prospector’s gold?”

“I’ll have to consult my board before I can answer that,” he said solemnly.

She wouldn’t have known he was teasing except for the sparkle in his eyes. “How about if I buy a fifty percent share? A raspberry tart with ground hazelnuts in the crust enough?”

“Make it almonds and I’ll give you eighty percent.”

“Done!” she said and held out her hand to shake his.

He took it, held her hand for a moment, then smiled warmly at her. “Best deal I ever made,” he said and picked up both packs. As they walked back to the cabin, they made plans for their coming excursion.

3

F
rank couldn’t sleep. All his life he’d had a clear vision of where he was going with his life, but right now he couldn’t seem to see what was ahead for him.

There was a faint buzzing sound and he knew what it was: Julian was calling. Reaching across to move the blanket Miranda had put up, he saw that she was asleep. She was snuggled deep under the covers so just a bit of her face peeped out.

He silently got out of bed and went to a blank log wall to the right of the fireplace, pushed a knot, and a door opened. In contrast to the rugged, almost primitive cabin, the room Frank entered was ultramodern, its walls painted a hard gloss white. Along three sides were tables, each covered with machines: computer, fax, television with the stock market playing on it, telephones, and other devices of communication.

He picked up a blue phone, the one Julian used. “What is it?”

“And good evening to you too,” Julian said. “There are some problems with Tynan Mills that you need to decide about. And Tokyo needs to talk to you. I know you weren’t planning to return for another day but I think I should send the chopper tomorrow. Besides, Gwyn has been here asking for you. I better warn you that she had a bridal magazine in her briefcase. She—”

“Don’t come here until Thursday.”

“But that’s three days away!”

“Right,” Frank said. “And pay Gwyn off with the usual gifts.”

For a moment, Julian was stunned into silence. “Are you sure you want to do that? I thought maybe this one was serious. I know Gwyn certainly thinks so.”

Frank didn’t comment on that. “I want you to check on someone for me. He’s a kid. Elijah J. Harcourt. Make sure he’s all right. And find out about his friend Chelsea Hamilton. And pay off the mortgage of Eli’s mother. No! Wait, that might cause some problems with the dad. Find out what that bastard is up to.”

“Anything else?” Julian asked.

“Yeah, call one of my brothers and tell him to take care of Tynan Mills.”

Julian drew in his breath. “You’re going to delegate? You’re going to trust your financial-genius brothers to handle a family business?”

“Julian?” Frank said. “Cut the sarcasm. Just do the job and don’t give me any more problems. And don’t call here again. You might wake—” He broke off. “Thursday. Late afternoon.” He hung up and went back to bed.

“You okay?” Frank asked as he stopped on the trail that led up the side of the mountain. He had on a fifty-pound pack full of the things they’d chosen last evening—and he’d enjoyed planning with Miranda.

Gratefully, she sat down on a rock and drank from her water bottle. Her pack was less than half the weight of Frank’s but it was still heavy.

“It’s the altitude,” he said.

“You’re being kind. It’s also my lack of aerobic exercise. I should spend more time in a gym.”

“In your line of work, have you ever saved anyone’s life?”

“A few times,” she said, smiling.

“I have a full gym off my office and I work out at least an hour a day, but I have
never
saved a human life. Which of us do you think has accomplished more?”

For a moment she blinked at him, then smiled. “What a very kind thing to say. And you know what? You’ve made me feel better.” She stood up. “But just in case of a relapse, is it much further?”

“A mile at most.” His face was serious. “If you falter I could get behind you and push.” He gave such a lecherous lift to his brows that she laughed.

“I think I’ll manage. Lead on, oh fearless leader.”

“Sounds good. I think I’ll put that title on my office door.”

They reached the old cabin in the late afternoon. It was a three-sided shed, with the flat side of a giant boulder as the back wall. Inside was a crude fireplace and to one side was a little fenced area. “For his donkey friend,” Frank said. There was a little cabinet with a chipped porcelain bowl and an old, crude bed frame in the far corner.

Miranda saw that repairs had been made to the roof and one wall. “You keep it from falling down?”

“I do,” he said. “I carried all the wood up here and I reset the stone for the fireplace. One year I got caught in an early snowstorm and spent a week up here. I was glad my dad taught me about hunting or I might have starved.”

“Spoken like a man who has never dieted. Trust me on this, but a week without food will only make you
feel
like you’re going to starve.”

Again, Frank looked serious. “As a man who spent half a day walking behind you, I can swear that you don’t need to lose an ounce.”

Miranda laughed but she also blushed.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you why the old guy built his cabin here.”

They put down their packs and she followed him outside into the soft light. She could feel autumn in the air. He led her down a well-worn trail, around the big boulder, then up again. At one point, he put his hands on her waist and swung her over a place where the trail had washed out. For a moment they stared at each other, but then Frank turned away and they kept going up.

At last they came to a very pretty little freshwater pool. Water trickled down the mountain into the pool, then flowed out at the far side. Since the water was always moving, the pond never became stagnant.

Frank pointed at the far end. “I found the remnants of some hollowed-out logs. I think he made a viaduct.”

“So he had running water all year,” Miranda said. “How ingenious.”

“It froze in winter, but by then he had piles of snow outside his door.” When Frank sat down and began to try to untie a bootlace, Miranda took over. She removed his boots and socks, then her own. They sat side by side, pants rolled up, their feet soaking in the cool, clean water.

“This is wonderful,” she said. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Turning, Frank looked at her. Right now he was feeling the best he had in years. But Julian’s mention of Gwyn had thrown him somewhat, and had made him think of her seriously. She belonged to his real world, the one of money and board meetings. Even what social life he had with her dealt with money, as every function they attended was a charity fund-raiser.

Gwyn fit into that world perfectly. She was charming to everyone. She had an ability to coax people into opening their wallets in support of whatever cause she was working with. Orphaned children, homeless people, literacy groups were all better off because of Gwyn.

But there was no way she’d travel up a mountain to dangle her bare feet in an icy mountain pond. Frank had once joked that he thought her feet were like a Barbie doll’s, permanently bent upward for high heels. Gwyn hadn’t laughed.

“You’re looking at me very hard,” Miranda said.

“I was thinking how you fit here.”

“You can see me in a pair of overalls? Maybe with a pickax?” She was teasing, but when he didn’t answer and turned away to look at the pond, Miranda frowned. Obviously, something had upset him. “Did the prospector find any gold?”

“Not that anyone knew about, but there were rumors. He’s a chapter in a few books and they said that people believed he found gold and buried it in a cave near his cabin.”

“Have you looked?”

“A little,” he said, “but no luck. My nieces and nephews are getting old enough that I thought I might bring them up here and let them scrounge the area. Nobody can find things like a kid can.”

“You seem to know so much about children. You don’t have any of your own?”

“Not that I know of,” he said as he stood up. “How about if I build a fire and we cook some of that food you brought?”

“Sure,” Miranda said. As she pulled on her boots, she thought, Something has changed. He had gone from laughing to serious in seconds.

They sat outside with their dinner, the stars bright above them. The air was quite cool, but they had on layers of clothes.

“Are you all right?” Miranda asked, her voice full of concern.

“Sure. I come up here to think and . . .”

“And I’m hindering you?” She started to get up.

“No, please, I didn’t mean that.” He turned to her. “I asked you about your ex-husband, but you didn’t answer. What’s he like?”

She took a moment before replying, “Leslie likes to win. It’s everything to him. He doesn’t care about the cost or future consequences. He just has to win right now. You know how I got custody of our son?”

“I can’t imagine.”

She took a breath. “It still terrifies me to remember what I did, and I pray that Eli will never find out. At the divorce, I told his father I didn’t want the child. I said that his extraordinary intelligence made him a freak and I didn’t want to have to spend my life with the kid.”

Frank looked at her in astonishment. “I agree that no child should hear that.”

Miranda had to swallow back tears in memory. “Eli thinks that I’m blind to Leslie’s selfishness, but I know my ex very well. When he comes over and does his little whining act about how no one’s ever given him anything, I hand him money. I don’t give very much, but he knows I’m poor so even a little is a lot.”

“I see,” Frank said. “And that lets him feel that he’s won.”

“Right,” she said. “And if he feels that he’s winning, I don’t have to fear that he’ll do something bigger.”

“Like fight you for custody of Eli,” Frank said softly.

“Exactly.”

“In your circumstances, I think that’s a very clever way to handle it all. In fact, I think what you did was a brilliant business move. You used your opponent’s weakness to your advantage. I wish the men who worked for me could be that insightful.”

She laughed, but she was pleased by what he’d said.

When it grew too cool to stay outside, they went into the cabin. Like the cave the day before, the soft firelight made the tiny cabin cozy and, well, romantic.

Miranda glanced at the single bed in the corner. How were they to handle this awkward situation? “How about if we arm wrestle for the bed?”

Frank was kneeling by the stove, poking the inside of it. He’d had an idea that she’d come up with a reason for why he should take the bed and her the floor. He stood up. “Let’s toss for it.” He pulled a coin from his pocket. “Call it.”

“Heads.”

He flipped the coin and caught it on the back of his hand. “Heads it is. You win.”

“I didn’t see the coin,” she said.

“Next time.” He was pulling sleeping bags from the packs, but struggling with the cast. “Damn thing!”

Miranda moved beside him to help, their shoulders together, the warmth of their bodies shared.

He turned to look at her and, smiling, Miranda faced him. He kissed her. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, tentative, but it was very nice.

He pulled away. “Sorry. I’m overstepping my bounds.” Abruptly, he stood up, but he didn’t look at her. “I’m . . .” He didn’t seem to know what else to say. He left the cabin.

With a sigh, Miranda unfurled the two sleeping bags, putting one on the hard floor and one on the narrow bed.

So much for being seductive, she thought. She could get a man to ask her to marry him because she looked like “a fertility goddess” but she certainly didn’t inspire passion. The years she’d spent with her ex-husband had never been like what she’d read about in books. She’d been a virgin when they’d met and for years she’d thought the two kisses and four strokes were normal.

She knew the books she read were fantasy, but sometimes she wished a man would look at her with eyes blazing fire.

The thought made her giggle. She used the time Frank was outside to undress. Thanks to whoever had tampered with her luggage, the only nightgown she had was the thin one—but she hadn’t brought it with her. Instead, she’d sneaked in one of Frank’s big long-sleeved pull-on shirts. It fell down to the top of her thighs. Her legs would be bare but she thought she’d be warm enough in the sleeping bag.

She slipped inside the bag and meant to stay awake until Frank returned. But the long walk up a mountain had worn her out. She was asleep as soon as she lay down.

Thunder loud enough to split her eardrums woke her. As she sat up, lightning lit the cabin, and she gave a little involuntary scream. She wasn’t used to such storms.

Frank was beside her instantly, just sitting there, not touching her, but at the next flash of lightning she flung herself into his arms.