The Sugar Queen by Tess Thompson

11

Brandi

The next morning,Trapper’s father stood behind a lectern set up in the lobby of the lodge. My staff and I had shut down the bakery and were serving people scones and muffins. By the time Fenton started to speak, the platters were empty.

I already knew the content of Fenton’s speech and would have to fight the lump that had already developed in my throat.

Twenty-one families had lost their homes. The Barneses had decided that for anyone who had not been able to find family or friends to stay with, there would be rooms at the lodge for however long they needed them. After news of the fire, most tourists had canceled their plans, leaving more rooms empty than they’d normally have, even in the off-season. Trapper had told me that morning it would mean a huge financial loss for the year but that his father didn’t care. If there were people in town who needed housing, he would provide it.

The lodge had remained mostly the same for decades, with stone fireplaces and picture windows that looked out to the slopes. The crowd gathered, taking up all the seating and the rest standing.

Fenton tapped the microphone that staff had set up for him. “Is this thing working?”

The crowd answered yes.

“Thanks for coming this morning,” Fenton said. “I know it’s been a frightening few days, and I’m thankful we didn’t lose any people or animals in the fire. Our firefighters and police officers did a heck of a job getting us all out of here in a safe and timely way. For those of you who’ve lost homes, my sincerest sympathies. My wife and I would like to offer rooms here at the lodge for anyone without family or friends they can stay with. This morning, I received a wonderful call from the good people from Wolf Enterprises. For those of you not familiar with them, they were the firm that refurbished Jamie Wattson’s inn these last few months as well as built Garth Welte’s home. They’ve offered their architect, interior designer, and contractor at half their normal fees. They recently had a fire in their own town and know how deeply disruptive it can be. We’re getting bids and plans from several firms in Denver to rebuild the high school. I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to be a long haul before we get our kids back in an environment designed for learning. Given that, we’re offering the lodge here as a temporary high school. It’s going to be challenging for teachers to plan lessons in an open environment such as the lobby, but we also have conference rooms and other locations. We’re working with the principal and school board on details and will get back to you. To rebuild a new high school for our four hundred kids will be close to thirty million dollars. While some of that cost will be covered from insurance, we’re still on the hook for a great deal.”

“How will we pay for it?” someone from the audience called out.

“We can’t afford another school levy,” another voice shouted out from the audience.

“On that note, I’d like to introduce my son, Trapper. He has some good news to share about funding.”

Trapper took his father’s place. “Hey, everyone. Thanks again for coming. We have a long road ahead of us, but as Pastor Lund reminds us every Sunday, the good Lord provides. Along with the offer from Wolf Enterprises, a good friend of mine from my sports days called this morning. Not only is he a famous retired quarterback and color commentator, he’s a resident of Cliffside Bay and good friends with Wolf Enterprises. A few of you may have heard of him. Brody Mullen has offered a significant donation to help us rebuild the school and homes of those who were underinsured.”

A murmur went through the crowd. Apparently, I was the only one in town who didn’t know about the famous quarterback.

“Brody has friends in high places, so to speak,” Trapper said. “Including actresses Lisa Perry, Pepper Griffin, Genevieve Banks, and her husband, Stefan Spencer, who have also offered two million dollars each. In addition, an anonymous man or woman has donated ten million dollars to help rebuild the high school, as well as another ten million to help the uninsured or underinsured rebuild their homes. The details about how to apply for money will be held at a separate meeting this afternoon in conference room B.”

A cheer went through the crowd.

I smiled to myself, pretty sure Crystal was the anonymous donor.

“In other news,” Trapper said, “as some of you may have heard, I purchased the ice rink just before it was burned in the fire. Fortunately, I’ll have the funds to rebuild, but that will be put on hold until after the other construction is completed. Instead, we’re going to get it cleaned up and put in an outdoor rink by the time tourist season starts this winter. All proceeds from this endeavor will be given back to the rebuilding funds.”

More cheers as he changed places with his dad.

“I’m sure most of you know our town’s history. Over one hundred years ago, Alexander Barnes hired a schoolteacher from the east to teach at our very first school. It was a one-room school with a potbelly stove built by the volunteers, all with the sole purpose of educating the town’s children. The first class roster recorded by Quinn Cooper listed less than a dozen children. We have more students than in those days, but the spirit of this town remains the same. In the words of Quinn Cooper Barnes, ‘Be curious, be kind, protect one another.’ Those words still have meaning today, perhaps more than ever. We embody the spirit of those first townspeople. We believe in community and taking care of one another in times of difficulty. Alexander Barnes told his children that to be of service to another human being was the greatest way to find meaning in your life. Seek out your neighbor, ask them how you can be of service. We will rebuild this town together, one brick and board at a time, just as our forefathers did before us.”

“And foremothers,” someone shouted.

Fenton grinned, then tented his hands under his chin. “I apologize. Yes, ma’am. Foremothers.”

At this point, I caught a glimpse of my parents out of the corner of my eye. I hadn’t realized they were here. Dad listened to Fenton’s speech with his head bowed. Mom, however, was fixed on the lectern. Her expression of pure hatred sent a cold shiver down the back of my spine.

In Trapper’s kitchen,my hands flew as I mixed butter into flour for biscuits. As if they hadn’t just gobbled down a loaf of bread, the guys were outside after begging me for a batch of biscuits. Trapper’s kitchen was stocked with all the right things, including an expensive set of pans and a state-of-the-art cooktop.

I did a quick knead of the biscuits and flattened the dough, then used the rim of a wide glass to cut out circles. I was lifting them onto a cooking sheet when Crystal came downstairs. She looked so much better than when I’d left her this morning. Hair newly washed and blown out, makeup applied, she looked as put together as she always did. She wore a new pair of loose-fitting jeans rolled up at the bottom and a yellow cotton T-shirt. I admired her slender frame. T-shirts didn’t look like that on my curves. If I ate fewer biscuits, I might have a smooth stomach like hers. However, I really enjoyed biscuits.

“You look rested,” I said.

“I needed that nap.” She looked around the kitchen. I’d been in the process of making a salad. A stack of peeled carrots and a bunch of green onions waited to be chopped. “What can I do?”

I asked her to finish the salad. “The guys are making steaks to go with the salad and biscuits.”

“It sounds like a party out there.” With the expert moves of a professionally trained chef, Crystal chopped the carrots into tiny slivers.

“That’s how they are,” I said. “Like an ongoing party.”

Crystal scooped carrot slivers into the salad bowl. “What’s your plan?”

I leaned into the counter. “I’m going to tell him tomorrow. I just wanted one more night before he hates me forever.”

“He’s not going to hate you.”

“You don’t know that,” I said.

“Just tell him exactly what happened. He’s going to understand.”

I turned toward the window. Trapper was at the grill, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter. God, how I wanted this to be my life.

Crystal came around the island and drew me into an embrace. “You’re going to be all right. What happened hurt you more than anyone else. Don’t forget that. You’re the one who had to bury that baby by yourself.”

I closed my eyes, soaking up this love from my dear friend. “I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

We moved out of the embrace. I pushed my hands against the edge of the countertop. “I don’t know how to find the words.”

“My grandmother always used to say, plain talk is the best,” Crystal said.

“Yes, plain talk.” I could do it. I’d have to dig into that place of great love. The same place I’d had when I let him go when I needed him the most.

We returned to our tasks. I put the biscuits in the oven and set the timer.

“How are you doing about the other night?” I asked gently.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” Crystal stopped chopping the onions and hung her head. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I wasn’t ready. He’s a lovely man—kind and thoughtful. I shouldn’t have led him on like that when I have no business being involved with anyone.”

“Could it just be what it was? A fling?” I asked.

“I’m not the fling type.”

“I don’t think he is either,” I said. “How was it?”

“You mean the sex? Hot. While we were in the throes, so to speak, I completely forgot anything else. Then, when it was done, I got emotional and basically ruined everything.”

“Emotional?”

“I cried and started talking about Patrick,” Crystal said, flushing.

“Oh God.”

“I know. I’m such a mess.” She paused, knife in midair, and looked out the window. Garth was standing next to the outside refrigerator with a beer in his hand. “I’m strangely drawn to him in a different way than I was Patrick. For one thing, Garth’s not my type. At all. This feeling is purely physical, almost primal. He makes me laugh and feel lighthearted, which, as you know, I’m not. I love his country-boy vibe.”

“That sounds pretty good. Maybe you could just keep it casual? Have some fun?”

“Like a booty call type of thing?”

“Why not?”

She tapped the knife against the cutting board. “Because it feels like cheating.”

“He’s been gone for two years,” I said.

“I know. But Patrick was my person. My one and only. Moving on with someone else feels like our love story has to end. I don’t want to stop feeling married to him, because then I have to accept that he’s never coming back.” Her voice broke. She took in a shaky breath. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Garth apologized and agreed it was a mistake. He’s such a gentle soul and so decent that it felt instantly fine between us.”

“Good, since you’ll be living in the same house with him for a few months.”

“Right. All the more reason to remain friends, not a booty call.”

I kept further thoughts to myself. I had a feeling that whatever was between them couldn’t be so easily dismissed. I’d seen my friend sparkle for the first time since she’d moved to Emerson Pass. Garth Welte was one of the good guys. I wanted my friend to find love again, but it wouldn’t happen until she was ready to accept that her life should go on, even without Patrick.

As for me? I couldn’t help but assume I was screwed. Pain was coming my way. It was only a matter of time.

That evening feltlike the old days. Breck and Huck stayed for dinner, and with the added bonus of Garth and Crystal, it was a lively group. Breck kept the conversation going, asking Garth and Crystal questions about themselves. Breck had a way of leaning into a conversation, making eye contact and nodding as if whatever someone was saying had to be the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. This same quality made him good with animals, I supposed. He met a creature exactly where they were. I’d missed him. Being with Trapper’s friends had seemed like an impossibility. Too painful. Too many memories. Tonight, though? It was as if no time had passed.

“So, you’re in Montana,” Breck said to Garth. “And your parents split after your little brother’s death.”

“That’s right.” Garth pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Like I told these guys, they couldn’t get through it together.” He cleared his throat. “My mom fell completely apart. She was not a Montana native and decided to move back to Denver. I spent summers with her, but for the most part my dad raised me. When I was fifteen, we moved to Salt Lake so I could train.”

“Is your mother still in Denver?” Crystal asked.

His features softened when he looked over at her. “Yeah. She remarried and had another family. I have three half sisters. They’re a lot younger than me.”

“Do you see them much?” I asked.

“Not a lot. But one of the reasons I wanted to move here was to be closer to them. I’d like to have more of a relationship with them.”

“What about your dad?” Crystal asked.

Garth chuckled. “My dad’s what you’d call a character. He packs more into a week than most do their whole lives. Plays hard—booze and women; a little gambling for good measure. He’s currently on his fourth wife, a wealthy Italian woman he met on the slopes in Switzerland. All of his wives, he met through my skiing career, in one way or another. They all have one thing in common. They’re all independently wealthy.”

“They’re not dead, are they?” Huck asked.

Breck shot him a look.

“No, he doesn’t kill them,” Garth said, good-humoredly. “They simply grow tired of him and kick him to the curb. He lands on his feet, like a damned cat, every time. Each time with a woman younger and better-looking than the last one.”

“Does it bother you that he’s so irresponsible?” Huck asked. I could easily imagine him interviewing the enemy during the war.

Garth tipped back his beer for a long drink before answering. “Truth is, I’m conflicted. My dad’s probably the most fun person you’d ever meet. People love him. He’s this combination of a man’s man with his cowboy boots, yet completely charming to the female persuasion. And, man, can he tell a story like nobody’s business. ’Course he has a lot of them. Most of them begin with, ‘One night in this bar in—’ fill in the blank.”

“Isn’t that the beginning of all great stories?” Breck asked.

“At least for us,” Trapper said.

“When you’re twenty-five it’s a lot different than fifty-five,” Huck said.

“I agree,” Garth said. “Do I approve of his lifestyle? It’s not really for me to say. His life, his rules. Would I want to be like him? Never. In fact, I’ve spent most of my life trying to be exactly the opposite, even though I love him to death.” He drew in a deep breath. “Well, shoot, I didn’t mean to talk the horns off a billy goat.”

Crystal laughed. That same spark that had come to her eyes from the other night had returned.

“We love it,” I said.

Trapper lifted his glass. “To new beginnings and new friendships.”

“Absolutely,” Garth said. “And thanks again for having me here. I’m starting to think Emerson Pass is my kind of town.”

“Amen to that, brother,” Breck said.

Huckand I did the dishes while Trapper gave Garth and Crystal a tour around the garden and property.

“So, here we are,” Huck said. “Kind of like old times.”

“Only we can legally drink now,” I said, flashing him a grin.

“What are your intentions with our Trap?” His eyes narrowed. A pulse in his cheek twitched.

My stomach dropped. “Intentions? What do you mean?”

“Like what’s your plan?”

“There’s no plan. We’re getting to know each other again. The feelings we had for each other back then are still there.”

“You seem pretty cozy, pretty fast.” Huck crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“We were together for three years during formative years. We know each other pretty well.”

“Do you have any idea how broken he was after you sent him away with no explanation?” Huck didn’t take his eyes from me.

“I can imagine. Ten years later and I wasn’t over him. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love him. So yes, I can imagine.”

“You sent him away, Brandi. Remember that? Your decision, not his.”

“It was for the best,” I said.

“He leaps before he looks,” Huck said. “If you’re planning on suddenly yanking the rug out from under him again, I’d think twice.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “Not that that’s ever stopped you from running your mouth.”

He shrugged. Huck didn’t care what I or anyone else thought about him. “I can read people better than anyone. In a million years, I wouldn’t have predicted you’d break up with him before senior prom. I mean, who does that after all you’d been through together?”

I flushed with heat. Anger and guilt warred for the lead. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Is that right?” He raised both dark eyebrows and glowered at me. “How about to Trapper? Do you owe him one?”

“What happened is between him and me,” I said. “It’s none of your damn business.”

“How is it that you never left this place? Were you too afraid?”

“God, you can be a prick sometimes. You came back here, so what’s the difference?”

“I came back. You never left,” he said.

“I wanted to stay because I love it here. How dare you judge me. Why’d you come back here if you hate it so much?”

“My reasons for returning are complicated.” He looked down at his shoes and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Why not? Because I’m not smart enough?”

“Intelligence has nothing to do with it,” Huck said. “But I can hardly explain to a woman who’s never left her mommy about what it was like in Afghanistan.”

Stunned, I gaped at him. “What the hell happened to you? You used to be a nice person.”

“When it comes to Trapper’s well-being, I won’t play nice.”

My voice shook. “No one cares about Trapper more than I do. No one.”

“You had a strange way of showing it.”

“There were things out of my control that forced me to make the decision I did.”

“You told him you didn’t love him and sent him away with a broken heart.” He snarled like an angry wolf. “Those are the facts. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t true. I loved him. I loved him enough to let him go. He didn’t need my deadweight pulling him down.” I sputtered with anger, fighting tears.

Silently, he watched me through narrowed eyes, as if trying to decide how much further to push. “Word around town was that you disappeared for like a year. No one saw you come or go from your mommy’s house. Why was that?”

My stomach dropped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do know. I know, too.”

“What exactly do you think you know?” My chest was so tight I could barely breathe. Did he dig up something on me? Could he possibly have figured out my secret? He was an investigative reporter. There were ways to get medical records if you knew the right hackers.

He moved across the kitchen and got right up next to my face. His voice was low enough that only I would hear him. “You were pregnant, weren’t you? Was it Trapper’s or someone else’s?”

“You’re out of line,” I said. “Get away from me.”

“I’m going to find out, and when I do, you can bet your ass Trapper will too.”

I moved away from him and smacked into the back of the sink. Was he guessing or did he know? He must not know that the baby hadn’t lived, or he would have said so.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Trapper asked from the doorway that led out to the patio. Given his gruff tone, he understood the dynamic.

“Not much,” Huck said. “Other than I’m trying to figure out Brandi’s angle.”

“I don’t have an angle,” I said.

Trapper strode over to where I was standing by the sink and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “What the hell, Huck? Just because you’re miserable, everyone else has to be?”

Breck entered, smiling, but abruptly stopped when he saw our faces. “Okay now, what’s happened?”

“Huck’s acting like an ass, that’s what,” Trapper said. “What happens between Brandi and me is none of your business.”

“Dude, really?” Breck asked Huck. “Can’t you leave well enough alone?”

“If you’ve forgotten, we’re family,” Huck said. “Barnes people take care of our own.”

“I hardly think he needs protection from Brandi,” Breck said.

At this point I wanted to sob into Trapper’s chest. Was Huck about to spill my secret right here in front of everyone?

“Listen, Huck, you know I love you, but this is not cool,” Trapper said. “You need to leave before I punch you.”

Huck uncrossed his arms. “Roger that. You always did drop everything when she called.”

“You’re damn right I did,” Trapper said. “I’m not stupid.”

Huck nodded. “When it comes to her, you just might be. You better tell him the truth, Brandi, or I will.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.

Trapper removed his arm from around my shoulder. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

I flinched as the front door slammed.

Breck rested both hands on the granite island. “See, here’s the thing. Huck was always in love with you, Brandi. Which, strangely, leads to hostility. Even anger.”

“No, he never liked me. Not even in elementary school.” A memory of him tossing balls at me during recess flashed before my mind. “He was mean to me.”

“That’s how he showed his feelings,” Breck said. “I’m not saying the male gender is intelligent in any way.”

I smiled as tears gathered in my eyes. “Breck, you’ve always been the kindest person I’ve ever known. Thank you for believing in me and trying to make me feel better. But in this case, there’s more to it than Huck’s misguided feelings.”

“What’s going on?” Trapper asked.

“I need to talk to you upstairs,” I said. “Will you excuse us, Breck?”

“Yes. Go. I should be on my way home anyway,” Breck said. He shot me one last kind smile and headed for the door.