A Long Way to Fall, page 18
Lola raised an eyebrow. “Um…I was talking about your financial motivation.”
“Oh.”
“Well, shit. Now I’m talking about your romantic motivation.” Lola took off her work coat and set it on one of the shelves next to a stack of toilet paper. Even though her closet hideout had been invaded, Bridget was relieved it was Lola who’d invaded it. She needed her calming presence and rational sensibility, and unlike Harriet, she wouldn’t invoke the “I told you so” tone of voice. “How bad is it?” she asked.
Bridget turned from the window and leaned her head against the wall. “Financial clusterfuck is currently tied with romantic shitshow for disaster of the year.”
“That bad, huh?”
“It’s pretty dire on both counts. Turns out, my dad didn’t actually own the access trail, and now, the Flemings want me to pay them a million dollars for it, or they’ll fence it off. No lender is going to give me a million-dollar mortgage for a tiny strip of land. Or frankly, any land at all. Oh, and I was this close to sleeping with the victim. Enemy. Whatever. You know who I mean. Her.” She gestured with her thumb at the cabin. “We actually had a date scheduled, and then, boom, the Fleming meteor hit.”
“We’ll get to her in a second,” Lola said. “What if you could take out a mortgage on the lodge?”
“I thought about that,” Bridget said. “But say I do, and we have a bad snow year. How will I cover the property taxes and a mortgage payment? It almost seems smarter to sell the place now rather than lose it in foreclosure.”
“Maybe, but the real estate market is soft right now. I’m not sure you’d get what you’d want for it. Especially if you lose your ski-in-ski-out status. Well, definitely then. Sorry, Bridge. I don’t mean to make it sound worse than it is.”
Bridget sighed. “You’re not. It really is that bad. And it’s not a matter of if we lose our status. They priced it so high to ensure that we would. They ambushed me and my lawyer in that meeting. Neither of us knew what was coming.” Bridget turned back to the window. “This whole thing stinks of premeditation, and I, like an idiot, really bought into it when Kennedy had me believing she was here to sell Jerry’s cabin. And even worse, I thought our connection was real. God, I’m such an idiot.”
Lola put her hands on Bridget’s shoulders and said, “Hey. I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over this. You’ve had a lot on your plate this last year, and you’ve shown a level of strength that a lot of people don’t have. Besides, Jerry’s daughter is surprisingly attractive, and honestly, she seems pretty cool.”
Bridget huffed. “I might as well have been kissing Jerry because that’s about how much I trust her now.”
“Gross.” Lola grabbed her coat and took Bridget by the arm. “And because I know you so well, I know that you don’t want to admit how much it hurts. You’d rather hole up here in this closet and have an unemotional conversation with me, even though I know your heart is breaking a little—”
“Or a lot,” Bridget added. “But at least they haven’t blocked off the trail yet.”
“And I’d put money on you having not cried or yelled or gotten drunk, even though you feel like your world is falling apart.” Lola opened the closet door. “I can’t help you with the first two, but I can certainly day drink with you.”
Bridget looked at her watch. “It’ll be dark soon.” She took a few steps and stopped. “You won’t tell anyone about my closet, right?”
Lola closed the door behind them and patted Bridget’s back. “Trust me. There is no one who would find it interesting.”
* * *
So many people were talking. Not talking, yelling. No. Not yelling. Cackling. Cackling? Bridget’s eyes flew open. She sat up and froze so she could hear what was going on outside the bedroom door. “Mom?”
Lola grumbled. “Oh, God. Does she have a key to the penthouse? She can’t see us like this. She’ll think we slept together.”
“I’m pretty sure my mom knows the difference between a raging hangover and you know, afterglow.” She threw a pillow over Lola’s head. “Shut up. You’re not here. This didn’t happen.”
Lola rolled onto her back and pushed the pillow out of the way. “You’re right, it didn’t. Because I wasn’t as drunk as you were.”
“Oh, please. You’re still slurring, and you smell like a drunk Christmas tree.”
Lola crinkled her nose. “You’re right, I do. Blame Lawrence and his wicked wassail.” She grabbed the pillow and put it over her face. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
“That’s the plan, genius.” Bridget jumped out of bed in just her bra and underwear, but it was too late. Her mom threw open the door and stood there with her fists on her hips like a winter superhero in stiletto boots and a wool cape. And was that Harriet hiding behind her?
“Hello, my beautiful, unclothed daughter. I thought I’d surprise you for Christmas.” She glanced at the clothes on the floor. “But it would seem I’ve interrupted your policewoman fantasy.”
With her face still covered, Lola raised her arm. “Hi, Ingrid. Long time, no see.”
Her mom chuckled. “I knew it was you, Lola, but isn’t Bridget a little old for you now?”
Lola sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. “I finally grew up and changed my ways.” She flashed a grin. “You’re looking lovely as ever. Still life-coaching the wolves of Wall Street?”
“It was one wolf, and I learned my lesson. I only take clients who work above Midtown now.”
“Watch out, Mom,” Bridget said. “Lola likes to date older women now. Do you happen to know Iris at the Corner Cottage? She must be nearing seventy.” She stuck her tongue out at Lola and grabbed a robe off the chair.
“Iris happens to make fantastic strawberry jam, that she slathers on this incredible cornbread,” Lola said. “And I may or may not have been seduced by it.”
Harriet finally came out of hiding. The look on her face had Bridget concerned. “Harriet, are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I’m not sure which thing to feel most uncomfortable about,” she said. “But I think I’ll go with Lola having food sex with my ex-sister-in-law.”
Bridget gasped. “Iris was married to your brother?”
Lola pulled the sheet over her head and plopped back down on the pillow. “It wasn’t food sex.”
Her mom let out a gleeful sigh. “I see the drama still runs high in the small lesbian community of Elk Mountain. Can’t wait to catch up.”
* * *
It’d been years since Bridget had seen her mom sitting in her favorite spot in the penthouse suite. Before the divorce, she’d often find her there by the window, basking in the morning sun with a steaming cup of ginger tea. Bridget would climb up in the comfy leather chair and cuddle with her until it was time to get ready for school.
They couldn’t both fit in the chair anymore, but that didn’t stop Bridget from trying. The truth was, her mom had arrived at the perfect time. Cramped together, she took her mom’s arm and wrapped it around her shoulder the way she’d done hundreds of times before. She intertwined their fingers, and just like before, Bridget knew she didn’t have to talk unless she wanted to.
Their fingers were so similar and linked together so well, but something felt different. There was a hardness to her mom’s hands. They’d become bony and arthritic, same as her grandmother’s. The realization that her mom was starting to show her age caused her to hang on a little bit tighter. “Harriet called you, didn’t she?”
Her mom leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Don’t be mad, but since Boden’s death, I asked her to keep me informed since my daughter insists on acting like everything is fine all of the time. A trait she clearly inherited from her father.”
“I just don’t want you to worry or feel like you have to come and rescue me. I know you don’t love it here.”
“You know, baby, it’s been a long time. For the first time in forever, good memories are the ones that keep coming back.” She pointed to a spot by the coffee table. “Just now, I thought about how you took your first steps right over there.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“When you first found your feet, you’d hang on to the coffee table and reach your chubby little arm out for whatever it was you had your eye on. And then, one day, Boden had fallen asleep on the floor near you, and you took two steps so you could give him a kiss. That was when I knew you were a daddy’s girl.” She kissed her forehead again. “I know you miss him, honey. It won’t hurt my feelings or make me mad if you talk about him, okay?”
Bridget snuggled in even closer. She got her height and her red hair from her mom, although these days, her mom’s was a salt and pepper gray that she wore in a short cut. A woman who for years had kept long, thick red hair had barely an inch of hair all over her head now. It looked very chic and showed off her strong jaw. Bridget looked her in the eye and said, “Everything’s not fine, Mom.”
She tapped Bridget’s nose and said, “Good girl. Now, hear me when I say that I won’t leave until it is.”
And she wouldn’t. Bridget knew that. Now that her mom was there, she’d support Bridget in whatever way she could. “Mom, if I promise to tell you the truth, will you stop getting your information from Harriet? She means well, but I think I need a little bit of separation when it comes to my personal life.”
“Absolutely. I’d much rather hear it from you anyway.”
“I know you would. Do you want the long version or just the highlights?”
Her mom gave her a sly grin. “I want every sordid detail.”
Chapter Ten
Out of the corner of her eye, Kennedy could see a small crowd at the top of the access trail. They all probably thought she was there to oversee the raising of Michael’s stupid fence. It was a bad look for her, but it didn’t seem right to shout the truth at them. All she could do was wait patiently until it was time to attach the no trespassing sign Michael had insisted upon.
Her relationship with her brother was over. She’d never get to be godmother to his child or watch her grow up. But that was on Michael, not her. He and his stubborn greed were to blame for all of this.
Since her dad had given Michael sole power of attorney, Kennedy had no leverage, nothing she could negotiate with. That left her powerless to stop what was about to happen, but she could alter a few small details. Like the gate, for instance. Michael hadn’t said anything about putting a gate on the fence, but he hadn’t said not to, either.
The fence reminded her of a horse corral. Not that she knew much about horse corrals, but she’d watched that Montana ranch show with Kevin Costner in it, so she had a picture in her head. Five rows of round pipe painted John Deere Green went from a rocky outcropping on the right over to the first in a line of large rocks that separated the lodge land from her dad’s. The rocks were big enough to keep skiers from accessing the trail and had probably cost her dad a pretty penny to have placed there. The asinine part was that those rocks weren’t protecting anything. They had one job, and that was to keep people from skiing from the lodge to the slopes.
She realized that the yellow tape they’d wrapped around the property when she’d first arrived was to keep guests from climbing on those rocks or straying onto the Fleming property anywhere along the border. Obviously out of fear that her dad would cause a ruckus if it happened.
It was all so ugly and foreign to her, she found herself wondering what she’d say to her dad the next time she saw him. Or if she even wanted to.
The fence guy handed her a pair of keys. “This is for the padlock. And if your brother asks—”
“I’ll leave out the part about me bribing you to add a gate. But he’s not going to ask. He’s too preoccupied with his new baby girl. Plus, no one said there couldn’t be a gate. Maybe I’d like this space to be accessible for my own purposes.”
The guy smiled. “I have a newborn too. What did they name her?”
Kennedy was embarrassed to say she had no idea because all she’d done with her brother was argue on the phone. “They haven’t picked a name yet. Hey, how sturdy is this fence?”
“It’s temporary, so don’t go swinging on that gate you paid extra for. We’ll put in something more permanent when the snow is gone. Have a good one.”
“Yeah. You too.” She waited until he was out of earshot before she yelled up the trail, “Someone get me Bridget.” She hoped it wasn’t true that yelling caused avalanches.
In the meantime, she opened the big shopping bag she’d brought with her and pulled out a white snowmobile suit. She’d wanted a black one for its badass aspect, but white was all they had in her size. She also bought matching boots, gloves, a hat, and even a helmet with a mirrored visor that would keep her head warm if the wind kicked up. So basically, she looked like she was ready to ride a rocket into space. In other words, she looked like a slimmed down version of the Pillsbury Doughboy, but it was a price worth paying.
The last thing to come out of the bag was a folding stool that she set against the gate. All that was left was the no trespassing sign her brother had asked her to put on the gateless fence. She’d only agreed so she could fuck with him. She had a normal-size one that she taped on temporarily so she could take a photo of it. Then she ripped it off and replaced it with one that was so small, it was barely readable. “Perfect,” she said.
“What are you doing?”
Kennedy whipped around. The look on Bridget’s face reminded her of the good old days when Kennedy had privately referred to her as the Norse goddess of something or other. And by good old days, she meant less than a week ago. It felt like longer. It seemed like it took ages to gain Bridget’s trust and only a split second to lose it.
The Viking queen stood there at the top of the trail just like she’d done before. Legs spread wider than necessary and arms folded across her chest. All she needed was some sort of headdress, an animal skin cloak, and an army of grimy, bloodthirsty men lined up behind her, and Kennedy would drop to one knee and bow her head the way any good peasant would. And then the queen would command one of those nasty men to bring the peasant to her lair where she’d have a servant bathe her and then present her at the queen’s throne to become her sex slave. At least, that was what everyone would think, but secretly, they’d fall madly in love and reign over the north country together.
Instead of falling to both knees and begging for mercy, Kennedy tried for a casual tone and said, “Oh hey, Bridget. I’ve worked it out. Tell your guests that they’re welcome to use the trail. They just have to know the secret password.”
Bridget didn’t flinch. “I’ll ask again. What are you doing?”
“Oh, right. You probably don’t know what to make of my outfit. It’s for snowmobiling.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yeah, let me show you.” She put the helmet on her head before she realized Bridget’s tone was full of sarcasm. “Right. I guess you know a snowmobile suit when you see one.” She spotted a skier behind Bridget and rushed to open the gate. “Right this way,” she shouted.
He stopped and gave her a once over. “What’s this?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing. As long as you know the secret password, which I’m about to tell you, this gate will magically open for you every time.”
He seemed skeptical. “Magically?”
She held up a gloved hand. “Actually, I’ll open it. So it’s not magic so much as me just standing up.” She motioned for him to come closer and whispered in his ear.
He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “You really want me to say that?”
“No, I want you to whisper it next time. Remember, it’s a secret.” Kennedy opened the gate for him, closed it again, and sat on her little stool. Bridget still stood there and glared at her, so she closed the visor and tried to clasp her hands together, but her gloves were too thick, so she rested them on her knees. That didn’t feel right, so she folded her arms, which felt perfect. It matched Bridget’s defiant stance, minus the long, sexy, powerful skier’s legs that were currently backlit by the sun, making Bridget nothing but a shadow of herself. Not in a bad way. In the best, sexiest way that really needed to be saved for posterity. Kennedy ripped off her gloves and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Surprisingly, Bridget didn’t move until she’d taken the shot. Or was it video she’d gotten? Stupid new phone.
“Dammit.” Kennedy wanted a photo, not a video. That was, until she realized that she had Bridget throwing her arms in the air and marching off. “You’ll be back,” Kennedy whispered. “I hope.”
* * *
Bridget grumbled under her breath, “She’s insane.” She marched past her mom, Lola, and Harriet, then stopped and turned. “What does she think she’s going to do, man that gate all day in her silly little astronaut outfit?”
“It’s a snowmobile suit.”
“I know that, Lola, but she looks ridiculous.”
Lola put her hands up. “Hey, I think she’s smart to wear it, astronaut or not.”
“Of course you would. Can you take that gun out of its holster and shoot me now, please?”
The three of them gave each other a concerned glance, as if she really meant it. “Honey, I think you need to take a breath.”
“Mom, it’s a figure of speech. I don’t actually mean it, and I’m pretty sure Lola won’t shoot me. Apparently, I need to work on expressing my feelings better.” She turned around before issuing an eyeroll and marched back up to the lodge. She needed to call her lawyer.
It wasn’t long before her mom was at her office door. “May I come in?”
