Radclyffe - Homestead

If she were Tess, she’d be angry and distrustful too. And the present situation only made things worse. If she’d come back into Tess’s life for no other reason than to tell her all of the truth about the past and admit what she hadn’t been willing to acknowledge to herself—that she’d never been happy a single day of her life after leaving the lake that summer—maybe they could have gone forward. Instead, she’d reappeared as a representative of NorthAm, a potential threat, if not an outright enemy. No wonder Tess couldn’t sort things out. She hadn’t been doing a very good job of that herself.

Clay walked downstairs, closed the front door carefully behind her, and strode through the driving rain to the SUV. She had come here to do a job, and as much as she hated to admit it, her father had been right. She’d let the personal cloud her professional judgment, and in the process, she’d damaged her nascent relationship with Tess and hadn’t been a particularly good representative of the company, either. That she could change, at least. And then maybe she’d have a chance to repair her relationship with Tess.

Driving one-handed down the empty country roads, she tried to raise Ella on her cell phone. The signals fluctuated on a good day, and she got nothing today. When she came to a crossroads, she hesitated before turning right and heading into Cambridge. Instead, she turned left. One good thing about dealing with farmers, they were always up early.

* * *

The house was eerily quiet when Tess returned to change into something dry. Clay’s SUV was gone, and she ignored the unexpected ache Clay’s absence carved within her. She put the kettle on to boil, went upstairs, and stripped down in the bathroom. Walking naked to the bureau in the adjacent bedroom, she caught sight of the bed in the mirror. The image of Clay shimmered into crystal clarity. For the first time in her life, the memory of the younger Clay didn’t eclipse the present. She had a new memory now, one of a powerful, beautiful, devastating woman. She turned to the rumpled bed, and the memory didn’t fade. The outline of Clay’s body stretched out above her, beside her, beneath her, was as sharp as the desire curling in her depths. The scent and taste of her were as potent as they had been when they were deep inside each other. Her skin vibrated with the sensation of Clay’s hands moving over her. She ached for the cool, silky splendor of Clay’s mouth on her flesh.

Clay Sutter was no memory. She was a living presence stamped on her every cell.

“Great,” Tess muttered. “Just great.”

She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and went downstairs to finish making the tea. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she made a call. If she knew Leslie, she’d be up by now.

“Hello?” Leslie said.

“Les, it’s Tess. Sorry to bother you so early, but I need to talk to you about the situation with NorthAm.”

“That’s all right, I was going to call you too. I’ve been going over the papers and I’ve come across a few things that seem odd.” Leslie murmured something Tess couldn’t hear, probably to Dev, then came back clearly. “Tell me why you called first.”

“Clay tells me that her father’s planning to send his legal team up to close the remaining contracts. I wanted you to know right away.”

“Did Clay say when?”

“Soon.”

“I wish I had better news,” Leslie said, “but I don’t think you’re going to have much wiggle room in these negotiations, Tess. Ray signed some fairly binding agreements. Even though you are now his heir, these kinds of things are difficult to reverse. We can certainly try, and I’m willing to do it, but you need to know going in it could be pricey, and there’s no guarantee.”

Tess squeezed the bridge of her nose. “That’s my quandary. I’m not even sure how I feel about the drilling. NorthAm is still surveying and testing and we’re supposed to get more information soon. Either way, though, I’d like to have the choice once all the information is available.”

“I totally understand and I agree with you. We’ll do the best we can. Ray never talked to you about this?”

“Ray didn’t talk to me about a lot of things,” Tess said.

“What’s going on?”

Tess gave her the bare bones of the story Clay had told her that morning, and as she did, she saw the two of them again, young, innocent, untested, and caught in a moment out of time that was destined to vanish. “I can’t believe Ray did that—or I guess I don’t want to believe he did that, but Ray was always the kind of person who felt the end justified the means. I guess he did that time too.”

“I didn’t know him,” Leslie said, “and I certainly have no desire to defend him. Using you that way was unconscionable, and to go on keeping you in the dark all this time just as bad. That must’ve been really hard for you, and Clay too.”

Tess closed her eyes. She hadn’t been the only one hurt. “Yes.”

“There’s something really strange about these contracts too,” Leslie said. “Some of the riders are relatively recent, but the original agreement isn’t. Ray signed these rights over years ago, well before NorthAm moved into your area in full force.”

“How long ago?”

“As far back as that summer, Tess.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Tess said.

“It might, if Ray didn’t think he was actually giving anything up but was forcing NorthAm into buying something they might never use.”

“I’m not following.”

“Considering what you just told me, this deal could be a well-camouflaged payoff,” Leslie said quietly. “If Ray demanded money from Clay’s father but could show that NorthAm had actually paid him for something, legally he’d be in the clear.”

Clay’s words came back in force, and Tess had the answer she was looking for. “You mean Ray might’ve blackmailed Clay’s father but made it all look like a transaction?”

“It’s possible. I’ve done a little research, and the price NorthAm paid Ray was triple what drilling rights in the Northeast were going for at the time.”

“How could this have happened,” Tess whispered.

“Money changes hands all the time under the guise of legitimate business deals for a lot of reasons. For greed, for power, for influence, and sometimes just to preserve the status quo. It’s ugly, and when you’re caught in the middle like you and Clay were, it’s immoral. Unfortunately, it’s not illegal.”

“Then why do I feel so dirty?”

“You shouldn’t. You were a victim. Both of you were.”

Tess straightened in her chair. “I know you’re right, but I refuse to be anyone’s victim. I might have been then, but I won’t be now.”

“I’m glad. And I’m here, no matter what you decide to do.”

“Thanks, Les. I appreciate it.”

Tess said good-bye and cradled her cup of cooling tea. She sipped it, trying to digest everything she’d heard that morning. Unraveling the past was an impossible task, and maybe an unnecessary one. What mattered now was what she was going to do. And the first step was dealing with the woman she’d slept with the night before, the woman in her life now, whose touch wouldn’t stop haunting her. She’d meant what she said to Leslie. She wouldn’t be a victim ever again, not even of her own pride.

Clay, barely able to see through the deluge, crept down the winding drive to Pete Townsend’s farm with the windshield wipers on as high as they would go. She slowed next to the rambling white clapboard farmhouse, trying to discern if anyone was up yet. From the front the place seemed quiet, but a window in the barn was alight. When she reached the first of half a dozen long, low cow barns, she pulled to a stop, jumped out, and ran through the downpour to the big sliding doors. Easing inside, she wiped the rain from her eyes and looked around. As she’d anticipated, the barn was modern and expensive-looking. Townsend, unlike Tess, raised beef cows, and most of his stockier, heavier-coated cattle were probably outside in the pastures. A few cows with young calves occupied several of the stalls. At the far end of the building, a man in a yellow slicker forked hay into a wheelbarrow. Walking down the center aisle, she called, “Mr. Townsend, it’s Clay Sutter.”

Townsend leaned on his pitchfork and watched her approach, his big florid face appraising. “Not much of a morning to be out.”

Clay pulled her wet shirt away from her shoulders. “I agree with you there.” She laughed. “And since I was in the neighborhood enjoying the day, I thought I’d come by. Sorry I’m early.”

“No problem. I can’t do much but kill time until this rain lets up, anyhow.” He hung the pitchfork on a hook. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could discuss the shale project—find some neutral ground.”

“Not sure there is any, but why don’t we walk up to the house. I could use some coffee. You?”

“That would be most welcome.”

She hunched under the short overhang outside while he took care of closing up the barn, and then they both sprinted across the wide drive to the back door of the farmhouse. Inside the large country kitchen with its wood-burning stove, massive wood trestle table that would easily seat twelve, and eight-burner commercial-grade cookstove, she stamped the water from her boots and nodded to a blonde frying eggs and bacon at the stove.

“I’m just going to get a dry shirt,” Pete said and disappeared.

The blonde, who looked to be a decade or more younger than Pete, smiled at Clay, her expression questioning.

“Sorry to barge in,” Clay said. “Pete didn’t tell me you were in the middle of breakfast. I’ll come back later—”

“No need to go unless you’re not hungry,” the woman said with a warm smile. She put down the spatula, wiped her hands on a brightly colored dish towel, and held out her hand. “I’m Mary Townsend. Pete’s wife.”

“Clay Sutter.”

Her eyebrow rose. “Ah. I missed the Grange meeting—one of the kids was sick. But I’ve heard about you.”

“I’m sure you have.” Clay grinned wryly. “I hope I can improve on the impression.”

Mary laughed. “Oh, no need to work at that. Mostly folks said you were respectful and seemed reasonable. High praise.”

“Well, then, I’m happy.”

Pete walked in and handed Clay a hand towel. “Thought you could use this.”

Clay toweled her hair and wiped her hands. “Thanks. Listen, I really can come back—”

“I told Ms. Sutter I had plenty to spare,” Mary said.

“Always do.” Pete gestured Clay toward the table. “Sit down. If I don’t have help eating it, I’ll just do it all myself.”

“Well then, it smells great and I’m starving.” Clay had learned quickly that negotiating with people out in the field bore no resemblance to boardroom power games. And she’d learned that timing was critical—strong-arming locals never worked. So she’d take things at Pete’s pace and enjoy a home-cooked meal. And maybe for a few minutes she wouldn’t think of Tess. The hollow ache in her stomach wasn’t hunger—and no meal, no matter how fine, was going to fill it. Only Tess’s forgiveness and a little bit of welcome in her eyes would do that.

Pete sat down at the head of the big wooden table and Clay sat beside him. Mary set plates piled with bacon, ham, potatoes, and eggs in the center and slid into a chair across from Clay. A teenage girl who seemed too old to be Mary’s and a boy who looked to be about nine joined them. The girl smiled shyly at Clay and spent the rest of breakfast reading on an electronic device she propped against her plate. The boy rattled on about baseball tryouts at summer camp, and Clay mostly enjoyed the casual conversation that kept her mind off Tess for entire seconds at a time.

Any time there was a lull in the conversation, she was back in the bedroom with Tess beside her, closer than she’d ever dreamed of being to anyone. The intimacy they’d shared had been nothing like what she’d experienced as a teenager. Tess was every bit as special now as then, but the moments they’d shared the night before had been emblazoned with the reality of loss and the wonder of rediscovery. And then the rain had come and washed the slate bare again, leaving yet another chapter to be written. If only she knew where to begin.

“More coffee?” Mary Townsend asked.

Clay jolted, realizing Mary had asked her the same question a few seconds before. “Yes, thanks. Sorry.”

Mary smiled softly. “No need to apologize. You sure you don’t want more eggs?”

“No, I’ve already eaten well past my limit,” Clay said. “But it was so good I had to. Can I help you clean up?”