Sold to the Highest Bidder (6 page)

His fingers trembled around the can as Ella stared at him, clearly shocked into silence.

“I’ve got stock to check on.” He turned away, pulled on a pair of boots at the door and picked up his half-empty can.

“What am I supposed to do?”

He stopped and looked back. There it was. Just a flash, but for the smallest moment she looked unsure, vulnerable, like she had last night when he’d tried to put her to bed and she’d kissed him. There was something. He couldn’t have been wrong about her for all those years. What would it take to bring the real Ella back? Or was she too far gone?

“I think an independent, capable woman like yourself will find something. Oh, and I left you something on the coffee table. You can do with it what you like.”

He banged out of the door and stalked down the lane to the barns.

He went inside to begin the morning routine, slamming through the mindless task of feeding stock and turning them out into the crisp fall morning.

Ella knew nothing about his life. And he’d be damned if he’d tell her.

***

Ella grabbed a paper napkin from the table, balled it up and threw it at the door.

He was singularly the most obstinate, exasperating man on the planet.

He knew nothing about what it had taken for her to put herself through college, the student loans or the jobs she’d had to take to make ends meet in the beginning. She’d worked hard. And she had a good job. She had great friends. She had accomplished that. On her own.

She went to the fridge looking for something that might resemble fruit or yogurt. There was butter and milk, a few condiments and a package of sliced meat. That was it. She sighed, closed the door and rested her forehead on it. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why did he have to fight her every step of the way? She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of his hands on her breasts last night and how close she’d come to asking him to share the bed. They had all this
garbage
between them and yet one touch had almost rendered it all irrelevant.

But being with him would have set up another long list of regrets. Wanting him sure didn’t change who she was or who he was. Or who she wanted to be when it was all over.

She wandered to the living room area and stared at the coffee table.

On it was an old electric typewriter, the cord folded neatly with a rubber band holding it together. She went over and ran her fingers along the cold gray frame. Thought of the black keys with white letters, how the indentations in each key felt under the fingers. She sat before it and rested her fingers on home row. Different than any computer keyboard. He’d kept it all this time. It was a side of Devin very different from the side that had yelled at her this morning.

She ran her nail along the space bar, sighing. He’d bought it out of his savings when they were in twelfth grade and had given it to her for Christmas so she could start her first novel. When she’d gone to college, she’d said she’d come back to get it at Thanksgiving. She remembered the morning she drove away from him, her new husband, and how she’d cried all the way up the interstate. They’d agreed on school. And they’d promised that once it was over, they’d really start the life they’d promised in front of the judge at the courthouse. She was going to be a writer. He was going to work for his dad until he could start up his own contracting company. He’d taken part of each paycheck and played the market—she remembered him saying he’d always been good at math and how proud he’d been when he’d made his first money in the market when other boys in school had been playing football and hanging out at the corner store.

The backs of her eyes stung as she realized she’d been the one to throw their perfect life away. She’d been the one who’d broken promises. She’d gone away but she hadn’t come back like they’d agreed. And this morning had shown her how much he hated her for that.

She wiped beneath her eyes. Today she’d run a few errands. And tonight she’d make him see why finalizing the divorce was the best thing for everyone.

Chapter Four

The simple house was built nearly square, set on an average street that was slipping towards shabby. The grass in the surrounding front yards was brown, and the flower pots sitting on the steps of a handful of houses were brittle and dried. Ella pulled into the gravel drive, noticed that the paint was cracked and peeling around the windows but the front porch was a new, blinding white. Compared to several of the properties nearby, Betty Tucker’s was surprisingly well-kept.

Especially for a woman who had recently had a mastectomy and was looking down the barrel of chemotherapy.

When Ella knocked on the door, she didn’t know what to expect. That made her nervous, always had. She’d grown up only a few streets away, in a house even smaller than this one. Two tiny bedrooms, a cramped kitchen, living room and a bathroom where the shower always dripped, no matter how many times her mother had tried to fix it. As she stood on Betty Tucker’s doorstep, the old claustrophobic feelings came back, smothering. The hours she spent home with the door locked, too young to be left alone but there because there was no money for daycare. The times she’d wanted to get out but her mother had needed to work.

Occasionally, her mother had brought home boyfriends. Most of them had been nice men. A few had ignored Ella and considered her in the way. For the most part though, during those times, life had been good. They’d done more things, like swimming in the river in the summer or the odd trip to the movies, and her mother had laughed more. Until the relationship died a slow death and Ella was left to her own devices again.

Then there was the night she’d waited, and waited. The night her mother never came home after falling asleep at the wheel following a double shift at the truck stop out on the highway.

The door opened, and Betty pushed the screen door outward while Ella stepped back, shaken out of the harsh memories. “Ella Turner. Well, this is a surprise.”

Ella tried to smile up at Betty, her lips quivering slightly as she worked to dispel the memories. That was the past. It wasn’t who she was anymore. She was here to do a job, that’s all.

“Good morning, Betty. I’m surprised you remember me.”

“Of course I do. Devin used to talk about you all the time.”

Ella felt her body flush as she remembered his hands on her skin less than twelve hours before. “Devin and I go way back. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Come on in. Heard you were at the bar last night. Figured you’d want to talk.”

Ella stepped inside but let the screen door slap behind her as surprise temporarily made her forget to close it properly. “You did?”

“Everyone in the Gulch knows you work for that paper in Denver now.”

They do?

Betty gestured towards a chair and went to the sofa, sitting down heavily. “Lordy, I seem to tire so easily these days. Sit down, please.”

She perched on the edge of the chair, noticing the living room needed updating but that it was devoid of even a speck of dust. “I don’t mean to intrude…”

Betty flapped a hand. “What gets me is I don’t understand why some paper in Denver is interested in little old me.”

Ella let out a breath and smiled. “That’s easy. It’s because you’re being treated unfairly.”

“So’s a lot of folks.”

“Yes, but you’re…” She almost said
one of us
, and paused. One of us? But Ella wasn’t part of the
us
anymore. Hadn’t been for a long, long time. “You’re somewhat local. And the community support you’ve received has gotten attention. It’s my job to take that and use it to get the attention of lots of people—including law makers and even the insurance company. But only if you’re comfortable talking.”

“I don’t have anything to hide.”

“May I tape this conversation then? Just to make it easier to remember? Then I won’t have to pause to take notes.” Ella reached inside her bag and withdrew a tiny recorder.

“I don’t know…” Betty paused, her gray eyes suddenly unsure. The relaxed, comfortable woman that had answered the door had disappeared, and now Ella saw what she’d expected. A woman who was afraid. Not necessarily of the tape recorder, though it seemed to be the item that caused the shift. But afraid of the changes life was dealing her. Ella felt a shaft of sympathy. Betty was going through this all alone and with the added worry of money.

“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t use what you say against you in any way. You’re the victim here. I want to help. This just helps me keep things clear.”

“I don’t want to give the insurance people any more ammunition, that’s all.”

Ella tried to smile reassuringly. “They can’t use the truth against you, and I promise I won’t twist what you say. You have my word.”

“I guess it’s all right then.”

Ella clicked the record button and put the recorder on the small coffee table so Betty could see it running. She felt a wistful sentimentality knowing Betty trusted her so easily even though they were relative strangers. And yet Devin, who had known her since they were children, didn’t trust her at all.

“Why don’t you take me through what’s happened since you were diagnosed, Betty. That’s a good place to start.”

Betty stared at the recorder and rubbed her lips together. Ella smiled, understanding the older woman simply needed to be put at ease. “I grew up two streets away. I remember you working at the drugstore in Durango.” Ella pushed aside the memory of slipping in to buy Tylenol and Band-Aids for her mother’s blisters. “Are you still there?”

Betty swallowed. “Yes, I’m still there. Not so much lately though.”

“I expect you had to take some time off to recover from the surgery.”

“Yes, I did.” Betty’s shoulders relaxed and she sat back on the sofa, looking into Ella’s face rather than at the recorder. “Only as much as I had to. I have to keep working. Bills to pay.”

“Bills like ordinary house bills?”

“Yeah, them too. And medical bills.”

Ella crossed her legs and relaxed. “Because your insurance won’t cover your treatment?”

The ice broken, Betty related her struggle. Her very basic insurance didn’t cover cancer treatments, and since she was already diagnosed they wouldn’t take on extra coverage either. “I’ve got a lawyer working on it, but he said it could be weeks tied up in red tape. Or longer. And each week that passes, the odds work more and more against me.”

A lawyer? Ella wrinkled her brow. That was a surprise. “If you don’t mind me asking, how is it you have managed to afford a lawyer when things are so tight?”

Betty smiled then, a ray of sun through the stress of illness. It wiped the tiredness from her eyes and Ella realized that Betty wasn’t as old as she’d thought. She couldn’t have been past fifty. She was a woman who had a lot of life left to live. If the cancer didn’t get her first.

“Mark Randall offered to do it for free.”

Mark Randall—the name didn’t ring a bell for Ella. And he was taking on her case pro bono? “Is Mr. Randall a friend of yours?”

“Oh no, he’s a friend of Devin’s, you see. That boy…he’s been a godsend. I couldn’t have managed this far without him.”

Ella tried to swallow her surprise. Devin? She looked around the very plain, dated room. The furniture was at least two decades old; the paint needed freshening, but everything was as neat as a pin. Betty worked at the drugstore, Devin was still up in his ramshackle cabin in the woods. And yet he knew a lawyer named Mark Randall? One capable of a high profile case?

“Devin? What’s he done?”

Betty tucked her legs beneath her on the sofa now, finally relaxed while every nerve ending in Ella’s body seemed to be tightening. Devin was involved in this? But why? How? He wasn’t doing such a great job of managing his own life, after all.

Then she remembered him walking out on stage last night, all faded jeans and sexy boots and dimples. Damn him. Back less than twenty-four hours and already she was feeling sucked in to the Gulch and all the things she’d wanted to get away from in the first place.

“Oh, that Devin. He put the bug in Ruby’s ear, you know. To hold that benefit last night. I was planning on going, but I ended up at the Medical Center.” She gestured weakly at the right side of her chest. “Still healing. I got a bit of infection, but they put me on antibiotics right away.”

“I’m sorry.”

Betty waved a hand. “That’s the least of my worries, so don’t trouble your pretty head about it. Heard the night was quite fun at the end.” She aimed a sly grin at Ella. “Heard you up and bought Devin for two thousand dollars too. I guess I should thank you for that.”

Ella covered her fluster by reaching forward and shutting off the recorder. “Lots of boys on the auction block last night, not just Devin.” She tried to make her voice light, not sure if she succeeded or not. “Some I haven’t seen since high school.”

Betty’s eyes held a film of moisture. “Don’t I know it. The people around here…” She broke off, swallowed as emotion thickened her voice. “Well, I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but they’ve been a blessing. And none more than your Devin.”

Devin again. Ella was starting to get annoyed with how often Betty was singing his praises, and ignored the deliberate addition of “your” to his name. He wasn’t her Devin. Not anymore. Nor would he be again. So what if he’d been right about Betty. Their marriage was over and before the weekend was out he’d sign the divorce papers and they’d wash their hands of each other.

“I’m glad he’s been helpful,” she offered weakly, putting the recorder in her bag. She’d gotten what she came for. It was time to leave.

“Helpful?” Betty pinned her to the chair by the exclamation and the happy smile. “He came by and mowed my grass a few weeks ago before everything turned brown, and put a new coat of paint on the porch. And he showed up the day after I was home from the hospital, arms full of groceries. He stocked up my kitchen and made me eat. Then he went and hired Eunice Sharpe to come and clean each week until I’m back on my feet. He’s a good man. Like a son to me.”

Ella’s heart sank. Could Devin do no wrong? Betty’s glowing testimonial did as much to make Ella feel like an outsider as anything had since she’d returned. Saint Devin. Meanwhile Ella knew how she must look to the people of Backwards Gulch. She was the one who’d run away. She looked like the girl who thought she was too good for them. It was so far from the truth.

Oh no. She’d spent the last decade of her life trying to prove herself. To be worthy. To be
something
better than where she came from—the orphan of a deadbeat father and an overworked mother.

But that was a little closer than she wished to look. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me this morning.” She smiled, sliding her bag over her shoulder and straightening her sweater as she got up from her chair. Betty rose too, a little slower but with a warm smile.

“You’re welcome. It was right nice seeing you again too, Ella. You grew up so pretty, and you made something of yourself. Good for you.”

Ella’s eyes stung. The praise was unexpected and felt almost…motherly. In Ella’s world, that was absent, and it was bittersweet.

On impulse, she went forward and gently hugged the older woman. “Take care of yourself. And good luck, Betty.”

Betty carefully hugged back, then gave a light cough and backed away. “You get on now. I hear the winning bids last night got forty-eight hours of beck and call service. You get back to your Devin.”

Ella blushed and headed towards the door.

“Ella?”

At Betty’s soft call, she turned back, touched once again by the soft, sad look in the woman’s eyes.

“Did you want to add something more?” She could have her notebook out in a flash. Sometimes these little incidentals were the gold mine of quotes. The little throwaways that could be the true heart of the story.

“Just…I know your mom would be proud of you. That woman worked herself to the bone. I’d hate to see you do the same thing and miss out on something great.”

Was Devin the something great she meant? How could he be? Their relationship had ended years ago. And Betty…there was so much that she didn’t know about what had happened. It was far more likely the woman was waxing nostalgic because her mortality was staring her in the face.

“Take care,” she repeated softly, and shut the door behind her.

***

Ella stopped at a supermarket in Durango and picked up enough groceries to get by for a few days—the prospect of the packaged ham and white bread in Devin’s kitchen wasn’t the most appetizing. She wasn’t sure what he ate but it couldn’t be much from home—not after seeing the contents of his fridge. It was clear he was going to hold her to the whole forty-eight hours, and they needed to eat. She refused to let it be scrambled eggs and take-out.

As she wheeled the cart through the store, she mulled over her conversation with Betty. What would it have been like if she’d stayed in Backwards Gulch? She picked up a package of salad greens and sighed. Even the sound of it was ludicrous. It was impossible to picture herself stuck in Dev’s cabin, day in and day out. Why would she, when she could have her downtown apartment and her friends, a job with a byline and an actual social life? Restaurants and events and real shopping rather than a turn around the corner market. Plays and concerts instead of fly fishing and baseball games on television.