Open Skies (5 page)

Julie laughed out loud. “Oh, my God. You just don’t stop, do you?”

“Nope.”

“OK, OK.” Julie threw a few cardigans in to the suitcase. “I promise to have a torrid affair with a totally unsuitable guy. Happy now?”

“Deliriously.”

Julie laughed and glanced down at the list in her hand. Forty-one items listed on it, and she’d only crossed out twelve. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be helping me pack?” Julie said. “Instead of sitting on your butt and fantasizing about my love life?”

“Alright, alright. You and your lists, girl.” Tammy got to her feet and opened the second suitcase. “I’m helping.” She looked at the pile of clothes dubiously and pulled out several silk scarves. “I guess these would be OK with your jeans and a shirt?”

“And my new cowboy boots.”

Tammy’s face lit up. “I totally forgot! I got you a present!”

“You what?” Julie asked her retreating back as Tammy rushed out of the bedroom. “Why’d you do that? I’ll be back in a few months… it’s not like I’m moving there.”

“I know!” Tammy shouted from the living room. “But I saw it and couldn’t pass it up. OK, ready?”

Julie sat down. Knowing Tammy’s taste in surprises, God only knows what might be coming through the door at her. “Ready.”

Tammy pranced back in to the bedroom. A bright pink cowboy hat was perched on her head. She struck a pose in the doorway and blew on her fingers, pretending that they were six-shooters. “Want me to blow on your sex-shooter, baby?” she purred.

“Oh, God.” Julie stared in horror. “That will clash horribly with my hair!”

“I know!” Tammy was delighted. “That’s why I bought it!”

Julie burst in to laughter. “You’re crazy.” She shook her head at her friend as affection rose in her chest. She reached out. “OK, hand it over. Let me try it on.”

Tammy tossed the hat over and Julie jammed it down over her curls. “How’s it look?”

“Stunning,” Tammy said. “Totally fab.”

Julie looked at herself in the mirror and laughed. “It’s as dreadful as I thought it would be… possibly slightly worse.”

“You’ll take it? To remember me by?”

“Come on, Tammy. What’s six months?”

“It’s a long time,” Tammy said. “When you’re dealing with people who knew your biological father, and when you’re living where he lived, and when you’re dealing with all the fall-out of a cheating fiancé.” Her violet eyes were serious in her round face. “Jules, I’m worried about you, and I’ll keep being worried about you. You’ve got a lot going on, and I won’t be there to help if things get to be too much.”

“I’ll be fine.” Julie took off the hat and smoothed down her hair.

“If you need me, I’ll come. You just call.” Tammy shrugged. “I already checked: it’s less than four hours to fly from here to Denver.”

“Yeah, but, the expense…”

“I found cheap tickets for around two hundred dollars.”

Julie looked at her friend, smiling at the determined look on Tammy’s face. “Tammy. You don’t
have
two hundred dollars.”

“If you need me, I’ll come,” Tammy repeated. “Don’t worry about the money.”

“OK, how about this? If I need you, I’ll call you and pay for your flight. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The two friends looked at each other for a minute and then hugged, spontaneously. They broke apart and Julie grinned.

“Now, how about this packing?”

“OK, OK,” Tammy sighed. “I’ll go through the bathroom. You want everything, right?”

“Right.”

Tammy took the matching fiery orange Louis Vuitton cosmetics bags and headed in to the bathroom to start packing Julie’s makeup. She’d be in there for a while, she knew: Julie adored beauty products.

“Hey,” she called from the bathroom. “What about your offer from Plum Designs? Has it arrived yet?”

“Yeah. I got it yesterday afternoon.” It had felt good to cross
that
one off her list.

Tammy reappeared in the doorway. “And?”

“And… it was great.”

“How great?”

“The total of five months’ salary
after
all deductions.”

Tammy gaped. “Really? I never thought that dickhead would be so generous.”

“Well, the thing is that I found out from Tricia who was replacing me as Head of NBD.”

“OK. Who?”

“The dickhead’s son-in-law. Fresh out of Harvard, with no work experience and who knows nothing at all about design.”

“Hoo-boy. That sounds like one hell of a stupid move.”

Julie shrugged. “Maybe. But the point is that if word got out that a respected and known designer got demoted under such conditions – I mean, it’s blatant nepotism – Plum would lose credibility, I can promise you.”

“And you pointed that out to Timmy-boy, did you?”

“Well, discreetly. You know.”

“You bitch.” Tammy shook her head in admiration. “You
have
got guts.”

“And now I’ve got a bit of a cushion. I won’t be freaking out about money for a couple of months, at least.”

“Awesome.” Tammy went back in to the bathroom, chuckling.

Julie looked around the bedroom, and it suddenly hit her exactly what she was doing. She was leaving this apartment tomorrow, this place that she’d called home for almost eight years. At the very first viewing, she’d fallen in love with the fireplace in the living room and the hand-painted tiles in the kitchen. Moving in here had been such an amazing declaration of independence and success: she’d paid her first and last month’s rent with the first bonus she’d ever been awarded at Plum Designs, given to her for her work on the Campbell Law Offices. After that job, she’d written her own ticket in terms of clients and projects and fees. It had been an amazing time. It was all over, now.

The leasing agent had a dozen people interested in sub-letting the apartment while she was gone, but she couldn’t stand the thought of having a stranger in here for the next six months. She bit her lip, calculating the cost of the rent payments to the landlord. With the severance from Plum Designs, maybe she could swing it?

“Tammy?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to move in here for six months?”

Her friend stared at her, stunned. “Jules. You know I can’t afford the rent on this place…”

“I know, I know. I’m just thinking – what if you paid me the same rent that you’re paying now, and I cover the difference?”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah.” She looked around again. “I just don’t want to have to worry about a sub-let while I’m so far away. I don’t want to deal with problems and complaints and pet violations, since legally, I’m on the hook for anything that might happen here. You know? I can trust you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t!” Tammy said merrily. “I’ll have Marco over every night, and I’ll dance for him on the marble table tops and gyrate all over the white leather sofa… I’ll cover myself in glitter and screw him on the bathroom counter and on the balcony…scandalize the snooty neighbour in 5B.”

“Seriously, Tammy. I’m asking seriously.”

Tammy squinted at Julie. “OK, sorry.” She paused and thought about it. “Yeah, OK. I mean, the lease is up on my place in less than two weeks, so the timing is perfect. And I can always find another scuzzy walk-up in six months’ time. That’s never a problem.”

“Oh, thank you.” Julie felt light-years better. “That’s great.”

“No, thank
you
. This place is incredible. Nicest place I’ve ever been in, really.”

“Just one thing, Tammy…”

“I know. I know what you’re going to say: Marco can’t move in. Right?”

“Right.”

“I know you can’t stand him, Jules, but he’s not as bad as you think. You should give him a chance.”

Julie barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.
Why
couldn’t Tammy find a nice guy, one who would treat her with some respect and love? She just picked loser after loser and was shocked and hurt when he wasn’t invested in the relationship, or cheated on her, or used her for money or her car or a place to crash.

“You like him, Tammy, and that’s all that matters. I mean, you’re dating the guy, not me.”

“OK, OK. Let’s drop it. So, back to the apartment. I’d love to stay here and I promise to take good care of it. It’s great of you to ask me.”

Julie grinned. “Yeah, well. This way, I don’t have to pack all my clothes in boxes and stick them in storage down in the basement – they can stay in one of the closets. You can even wear my clothes, if you want.”

Tammy looked her friend up and down. “Oh, right. All the legs on your pants would end at my knee and your dresses would barely cover my crotch.”

“Hey!” Julie said, mocking indignation. “It’s not my fault that you have those long legs that go up past my chin…”

“Well. I can borrow your crazy high-heeled shoes, if I feel like banging my head on the ceiling. And your purses.” She gave Julie a pleading look. “You
will
leave the red Coach purse, right? I’ve always wanted to show up at work with it…”

“Absolutely. Consider it yours for the next six months.” Julie nodded at the bathroom door. “OK. Back to it.”

Tammy saluted smartly. “Yes, ma’am!”

Julie crossed two more things off her list: ‘sub-let apartment’ and ‘put clothes in storage downstairs’. She sighed.

Chapter Two

Flying business-class had always been an enjoyable experience for her, but this time, Julie couldn’t relax.

Not that anything was wrong, at all. The window seat was roomy and very comfortable; the complimentary Champagne was delightful; the meal was excellent. The man next to Julie was mercifully quiet and after a cursory glance over his glasses down at her legs and up at her breasts he’d focused his attention on his laptop. Spreadsheets and figures dominated the screen as he scrolled up and down and sideways. He also sighed a lot, and shook his head. Once he laughed under his breath and muttered, "As
if
. Blockheads.”

Julie tried to stay calm. She was sure that she looked perfectly composed, as she sat there in her tailored grey dress pants and white blouse with three-quarter sleeves and a forest-green blazer. Her feet were encased in black, strappy high heels and emeralds glittered on her ears, around her neck, and on her finger. She was determined to look like a woman of means, a woman with money of her own, a woman who could make it in the world and stand on her own two feet. The thought that a bunch of horse-riding yahoos from Nowhere, Colorado might see her as a gold-digger or – even worse – as some pathetic poor relation of David Asshole Reid burned her.

She glanced out of the window at the mountains below. Julie had lived in New York her entire life, and even though she’d been to the Swiss Alps with Steve, she’d never seen the Rockies. She stared down at them, her thoughts full of nightmare scenarios and things that she’d now have to learn to deal with, one way or the other.

A hotel with guests who would have terrifying requests for things like heat and electricity and entertainment and staff competence. Clean sheets, scrubbed toilets, streak-free windows facing the mountains.

A restaurant which had to be kept to a certain standard of cleanliness and hygiene. Permits and certifications and inspections and insurance. Menus, wines, daily specials, a food budget, maybe a temperamental chef who shouted at everyone in a French accent (either real or affected), waitstaff who forgot crucial pieces of cutlery and spilled things on the diners.

A staff of people that she’d possibly have to fire in six months, no matter how well they performed, one of whom was over sixty. Who’d hire Mathilda Velasquez, once Julie handed her that pink slip? What if she started to
like
the staff? How would she actually fire a group of people that she liked? She’d never fired anyone in her life – let alone a team of twenty-five.

And, worst of all, the biggest worry of all, a stable full of horses. Gigantic, stinking, vile creatures who could stomp her to death without a second thought.

“So, are you from Denver?”

It took Julie a second to realize that the spreadsheet man had taken off his glasses, picked up his wine glass, and was speaking to her.

“Oh. Oh, no. I’m not. Are you?”

He shook his head. “No. Just there on business.”

She nodded politely.

“And you? On business?”

“Well, yes. Kind of.” How to explain how she had ended up in this seat next to him?

“What kind of business? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“A hotel,” she said reluctantly. “Right near the mountains. It’s quite a tourist attraction, I guess.”

“You guess?” He peered at her, his head cocked to one side. “So, have you never been there before?”

“No. It’s my first time.” She was tired of this conversation now, and gave him her coolest smile. “If you’ll excuse me, please.”

He obliged and stood up, and she sashayed off to the restroom. In the flattering light of the first-class restroom area, she brushed her teeth and redid her makeup. She shook her hair out before pulling it back again with an elegant tortoise-shell clip. She moisturized her hands and spritzed herself with JAR Bolt of Lightning perfume. The scent of rose and citrus filled the air and she closed her eyes, trying to relax. They were landing in less than thirty minutes.

At the thought, her breath started to get short, her throat started to close. Panic and fear were rising, and her body was shaking.

Blue. Blue. I’m in the blue room. It’s safe and calm and everything is OK.

She opened her eyes again, meeting her own cool, detached gaze in the mirror. She could do this. She could.

After all, it wouldn’t be the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life; not even close.
**
Rosie Yates was standing on the fourth level of the Jeppesen terminal at the Denver International Airport. She was thrilled that the new boss was arriving on Southwest Airlines: that gave Rosie the perfect excuse to swing in to Ben & Jerry’s near Gate A and grab a cup of their Cheesecake Brownie ice cream. She was a hardcore ice cream fan, and it was a personal tragedy for her that there was no Ben & Jerry’s in Clarity.

With deep regret, she scooped the last bite of her treat and tossed the container in to the recycling bin. She glanced up at the arrivals table, and saw that Julie Everett was now in Denver, right on time. She sighed and tried to stay positive. Maybe everyone was wrong, and Dave’s daughter would be a good thing for Open Skies Ranch. Rosie hoped so, anyway.

She only had to wait about thirty minutes when she saw a woman looking at her closely. Rosie held up the sign with Julie’s name written on it and grinned encouragingly.

Julie looked at the young woman holding the sign with her name and walked over to her. As she approached, she looked her welcoming party up and down. The young woman was maybe in her twenties – Julie guessed this must be Rose-Anne, one of the groomers and trainers. She was dressed in tight black jeans and a button-down blue denim shirt and a lined jean jacket; she had a few chunky silver rings on her fingers, and her boots were brown leather and very flat. She was pretty, in an outdoorsy, all-American, healthy kind of way. This girl looked like she breathed fresh air every day and drank all her milk. Her blonde hair was thick and lustrous and her teeth were straight and disturbingly white.

Julie reached the young woman and said, “Hello. I’m Julie Everett. Are you Rose-Anne?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Those teeth flashed as she spoke. “But everybody calls me Rosie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Julie nodded. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.” Rosie gestured at the trolley, piled high with what looked like very expensive luggage. Louis Vuitton was expensive, right? “Do you need a hand?”

“No. Thank you.”

“OK, then. I’m parked over here. Follow me.”

They walked through the DIA, and out to the parking garage. When Julie saw what Rosie had come to get her in, she stopped, disbelieving.

“I’m sorry. Is that a
pick-up truck
?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Julie looked at her luggage, and back at the truck. “And where do my bags go, exactly?”

“In the back.” Rosie looked puzzled.

“On the filthy floor? Exposed to the elements?”

“Of course not.” Rosie laughed. “I have a new carpet laid down, and I have a clean tarp to cover your luggage.”

“Oh. A tarp. What a relief.” Julie sighed. “I don’t believe this.”
How am I meant to look all competent and professional, pulling up in this thing?

“I’m very sorry. I didn’t think your luggage would be so fancy.” Rosie looked distraught.
Oh, my God… this is my boss! I’m pissing her off within three minutes of meeting her. She hates me. Oh, God. She’s going to kill me with that death stare. Jesus, she’s scary.

“No, it’s fine. Go ahead and cover it all up.”

Julie climbed in to the passenger side of the truck. Jesus Christ, she wasn’t wearing the right kind of shoes to have to clamber up and in to this piece of crap mode of transportation. Right at this moment, she was bitterly wishing that she’d arranged to take a taxi the hour’s drive from Denver to Hicksville, Colorado.

She sighed and looked out the window, wishing that she was back in New York with Tammy. They could be all dressed up and sipping wine at a club right now, gossiping and talking about Tammy’s latest mistake in the relationship department. Instead, she was here. Wherever
here
was.

Rosie got in and started up the engine. She turned to Julie. “I’m really sorry, again.”

“Are all my bags covered adequately?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Fine.”

Rosie pulled out and started to count down the seconds of the drive back to Clarity. She had a feeling that being stuck in a truck with Julie Everett was going to be a very uncomfortable experience: the temperature in the truck had actually dropped several degrees, and the cold was just coming off Julie in waves.

Any hope that Rosie had of Julie being a good thing for Open Skies had disappeared. She thought longingly of Dave Reid – big, loud, bluff, and always laughing and joking and warm. How could this woman actually be his
daughter
? Surely that had to be a mistake. No way he’d ever father this robot.

Rosie glanced over at Julie, who was glaring out the window at the passing scenery, looking very unimpressed. Rosie found her internal hackles rising: OK, so maybe it wasn’t New York, with its skyscrapers and neon lights and money buzz, but around the DIA was pretty amazing. Gorgeous, actually, with the sky so blue overhead and the mountains visible in the distance. How did this bitch not see it?

Within fifteen minutes, they were out on Highway 25, speeding south towards Clarity. Rosie cast around in her mind, desperate to make conversation. What to talk about with a woman like this?

Rosie had seen plenty of rich women at the ranch. They showed up with their husbands and kids for weekends and week-long stays in the summer, or with their boyfriends for romantic weekends, and they all had a soft, cultured look about them. Their skin was tight and toned, and their jewelry and wardrobe took her breath away sometimes. Most of them were nice, some were snobs, very few were openly bitchy.

But none of them were like Julie Everett. Rosie had been blown away by Julie’s face and body at the airport: short and curvy, she had the perfect hour-glass figure. She had slim shoulders and what Rosie had heard referred to as a hand-span waist. But Julie wasn’t straight up-and-down slim; her breasts were large and rounded and looked natural, and her hips and ass curved out and in again. She looked amazing in those grey pants and snug little coat accentuating all the right things in all the right places and it was astounding that she could even
walk
in those sky-high shoes.

Rosie had tried on her Mom’s high heels a few times and just couldn’t figure out how to keep from toppling over in them. It baffled her how she could maintain perfect balance on a charging stallion, but she fell over in shoes. Julie looked like she’d been born in stilettos – she was like someone who had just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine, and Rosie had been dazzled.

It was her face, though, that had really stopped Rosie in her tracks: Dave’s eyes stared out from it, but with none of Dave’s humour and kindness. Julie’s eyes were clear green, cold, detached. It bothered Rosie to see her beloved former boss’ best feature in such a set, unyielding face. It was a gorgeous face – that wasn’t to be denied. But so, so stony. Rosie simply couldn’t imagine those plump little lips actually curving up in to a smile of genuine warmth.

The silence stretched out, and Rosie decided to take another stab at it. Maybe Julie was just tired. She opted for mundane conversation, to test the waters.

“So… how was your flight in?”

“Fine. Thank you.”

“That’s good.

“Yes. It is.”

“Did you – did you maybe have any questions for me?”

Julie turned slowly to look at Rosie. “Questions? About what?”

Rosie shrugged. “About the ranch?”

Julie looked back out the window. “No. I think I’ll figure things out for myself. When we get there.”

Rosie flushed and stopped talking. OK, she’d tried. If Julie Bitch-face Everett wanted to start things off this way, it was her choice.

Rosie was young for her age, and friendly, and optimistic. But she was also smart enough to know when something was a lost cause, and she had way too much pride to keep trying to get this statue to hold up her end of the conversation. She drove, silent, doing her job. She’d never been treated as ‘just an employee’ at Open Skies, not ever, in almost three years.

If this was how things were going to be under the new management, she didn’t think she’d be sticking around for much longer. The thought broke her heart.
**
Julie wasn’t able to breathe freely until Polyanna Cowgirl had stopped talking to her. Staring out the window at all the space, and the mountains, and the enormous sky, had finally hit it home to her: she was actually doing this. She was going to a ranch. A ranch that her father had willed to her, after more than thirty years of absolute silence from him, of not having any clue at all who he was, or where he was, or what he was.

The annoyingly chipper girl next to her was slowing down now, turning off the main highway. Julie saw a large sign next to the road: ‘Open Skies Ranch – 7 miles’.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Almost there. OK, breathe. Come on, now, girl. You are
not
going to freak out in front of all your staff. It’s just
not going to happen
. Blue. Blue.

She saw the buildings in the distance, and tried to look at them objectively, the way a potential buyer would, with no emotional attachment or meaning. Her practiced eye took in the architecture, the design and layout of the grounds, the roads in and out.

Hmmm. OK, good space here, no doubt about that. She saw five cabins of varying sizes, arranged in a circle, but all quite a distance away from each other. That ensured privacy – a big plus for guests, she knew. The backdrop was stunning, actually: all the cabins were built right in to the side of the mountain, or at least that’s how it looked. They resembled mushrooms, just popping out of the ground at the foot of the Rockies. The view from inside the cabins would be breath taking. Each cabin had a chimney, so she guessed that there were fireplaces inside. Romantic and picturesque and wildly popular with the tourists, fireplaces always photographed well in marketing materials and increased interest in property sales.