Beautiful Mine (Beautiful Rivers #1) (18 page)

Connor

The next few weeks are filled with texting and phone calls and not enough time seeing one another. I did spend the weekend with her in San Francisco, where I got to meet her boss and coworkers, see her small but homey condo, and go to her favorite places (this girl is in
love
with Philly cheesesteak). Last weekend, I flew her back down. I took her down the zip line, which she loved, and we had dinner with my family. Corrine’s out of school now, so she was there too. They all love Whitney.

I think I love her too.

In fact, I’m pretty damn fucking sure I am crazy in love with that woman.

The best part, as Whitney says, is that now our goodbyes are temporary.

The worst part is I still can’t seem to
officially
commit to staying. Even though my family sees what’s happening with Whitney and think I ought to have some sort of answer, when they ask if I’ve made a decision, the words that come out of my mouth are still, “I don’t know.”

They’re frustrated with me.

I’m frustrated with me.

Even though I’ve made the decision in my head, and even though I’ve told Whitney I’m staying, when it comes time to tell my siblings and make it official, I can’t spit the words out.

It’s made my relationship with Rayce even
more
fun. He’s been in rare form the last few days. The fact that Rita Becker recently ran a column accusing him of having illicit affairs with multiple lower-level staff members didn’t help matters. She had neither names nor photos to back up her claims. It’s just more trash, clearly, but it pissed Rayce off anyway. Put all that together, and that means I’m still his favorite target.

Corrine and I have joked around that I need to keep a tranquilizer gun in my desk so I’ll be prepared the next time he comes barging into my office on the warpath.

I’m currently wrapping up a meeting with Lizzy, Renee, and the Activity Manager. We’ve been discussing a couple upcoming, high-profile weddings that will be taking advantage of the full offerings here at the resort, and more or less feel things are under control. As we all clear out of the Event Planning Conference room, though, Renee asks if she can talk with me privately.

Lizzy gives me a questioning look—she’s Renee’s immediate supervisor, not me—but I don’t know what this is about either. As I shut the door and sit back down at the table, Renee starts fidgeting with the file folders in front of her. My curiosity is piqued even more. “What’s up?”

“There’s something I wanted to bring to your attention,” she begins, taking a deep breath.

“All right.”

“It’s… maybe not my business, but…” She stops again, furrowing her brows. “Did you see the article about Mr. Rivers? About the, um, affairs?”

Oh, is that all this is about?

“Just gossip,” I say. “If Rita Becker doesn’t have anything good to report, she’ll just make stuff up.”

She nods slowly, still hesitant. “Well… I don’t know. I… saw something I thought you should be aware of.”

The skin on the back of my neck starts to crawl. “All right,” I say steadily.

“The other day I saw Mr. Rivers and one of my employees coming out of the Redwood Room. It wasn’t being used or even scheduled for anything, so there was no reason for her to be in there. They…” she hesitates and my skin is crawling everywhere. “They kind of gave each other a look and she was straightening her skirt and they left in different directions.”

“What kind of look?” I ask, even though I don’t want to know.

“Well… I don’t know. I’m not accusing anybody of anything. I don’t know why they were in there.”

“I understand.”

“It just… seemed off. They did look at each other like… like maybe something was going on in there.”

I take a deep breath and sit back in my chair. “I see.”

“I’m not saying anything happened. I just… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it and then I saw that article in the
Voice
and I thought you should know.”

“Who was the employee?”

“Her name is Taylor Norell. She mainly does set up and such.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

“No. I didn’t know if I should.”

I take another deep breath. “All right. Thank you for telling me. Is there anything else I need to know?”

She hesitates.

God. What else?

“Well…” she begins. “You should know I overheard a couple people in the break room speculating about this. I didn’t believe it and put an end to things pretty quickly. I have zero patience for gossip. And I didn’t think he would do anything like that.”

“But now you’re not so sure?”

She gives me a pained, apologetic expression. “It’s not for me to say. I just wanted to tell you what I saw. Maybe it was just an innocent thing. It… doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Mr. Rivers would do. I have a lot of respect for him. For all of you. I really admire the way you’ve all kept this place running. Your parents would be proud.”

I give her a small smile at the compliment, but I’m feeling the weight of everything she’s just told me. “Thank you, Renee. Do you have anything else to tell me?”

She shakes her head. “No. And I don’t need to know anything more about this,” she says, holding her hands up. “I wanted to tell you and now I have. I’m not going to give it any more thought.”

I thank her again and head back to the administrative offices, my thoughts heavy and my blood running cold. Even though it didn’t exactly prove anything, I feel uneasy about what Renee saw. But Rayce wouldn’t do something like that. Would he?

I enter the offices not knowing what I’m going to do until I’m doing it. Rayce is sitting behind his desk, writing something on a small pad by his computer. I go in, shut the door behind me, and approach his desk.

When he stops writing and looks up at me, I look at him more closely than I have in a while. The truth is, something has been different not just with our relationship but with Rayce. I don’t know what, and I don’t know why, but something is different.

I still don’t think he would do this, though.

“I have a question for you,” I say quietly. There’s no animosity in my voice (the way there so often is these days, if I’m honest with myself). But right now, I’m putting everything else aside. I have a real question, and I need a real answer. I think Rayce senses it, because he puts his pen down, knits his brows at me, and leans back in his chair.

“Okay,” he says. Also without animosity.

“That column of Rita Becker’s.”

His expression immediately goes hard. “Jesus, Connor. You should know better.”

“Are you having a relationship with a Taylor Norell?”

He freezes, holding my eyes. He looks uncomfortable.

“You shouldn’t listen to rumors,” he says, picking up his pen, then putting it back down. I’m still standing here, watching him. I don’t want to believe it, but I don’t like what Renee saw. And I don’t like how he’s acting. I don’t like that he didn’t really answer my question. I don’t like any of this.

Yet, I can’t see my brother doing something like this. I just can’t.

He sees me watching him and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Oh come on, Connor.” He turns back to his computer, mouse clicking.

Again, no denial. Heart pounding harder than I’d like, I say quietly, “Tell me it’s not true, and I’ll believe you.”

Rayce looks at me then. He just looks at me, and I think he’s going to admit it. God, he looks like he’s going to say, ‘Yes, I’m having an affair.’

But in a calm and sober voice he says, “It’s not true.” Then he gets up, and quietly leaves.

I’m left standing there, knowing the truth.

Whitney

I’ve been offered a promotion. My boss wants to make me manager over the San Francisco resettlement team. It would mean more responsibility, more money, and more benefits. I’d be working more with the refugee families who come over intact, not the orphans like I do now, so it’d be easier to deal with emotionally, I think. There’d be less direct contact with the people we serve, so that might help too.

She told me to think about it and give her an answer next week. It’d be worth making a change and giving it a shot, I think, if it weren’t for one thing.

This last month with Connor has been amazing. Whether we’re talking on the phone or spending time together in person, every interaction I have with him just makes me love him more. He hasn’t asked me to move to Swan Pointe, but if he gets to the point where he’s ready, I already know I want to. I’ve flirted with the idea of making a career change for a couple of years now, always feeling so torn and undecided.

Connor has tipped the scales.

Starting over with a new career would be intimidating and risky, but it has the potential to pay off if I can find a better fit for myself, and the risks would be worth it if I could be with Connor while I’m doing it. The long-distance thing is already getting more difficult. I haven’t wanted to pressure him about anything though. It’s only been four weeks and I think we need to take our time.

Well, I think Connor probably needs that anyway. I’m ready to take it to the next level right now. But I don’t want to push. I’m well aware of the fact that Connor’s going down a road he closed off to himself a long time ago.

For that reason, I don’t know how to approach talking to him about the promotion. If I’m going to be making a move within the next year (please, oh, please) I don’t think it’d be fair to my boss to accept the promotion now.

This week, we each took a long weekend because I’ve been wanting to go on an adventure with him. I didn’t care where. He brought me to Haida Gwaii, these beautiful islands off the western coast of British Columbia, where we’ve spent our first full day hiking through an ancient rainforest. I didn’t even know rainforests existed this far north, though they do look different than the ones on the equator. I must have taken fifty pictures of the trees alone. There are all these massive Sitka Spruce and Red Cedar that bring to mind the coastal Redwoods and giant Sequoias back home.

We’re having dinner at a casual restaurant with good food and a view of Skidegate Inlet. We’ve finished our main meal, but are enjoying some dessert, in no hurry to leave. As we eat the delicate cream-filled pastry with ice cream and fruit compote, we’re trying to decide what we’ll do tomorrow. We’ve narrowed it down to either kayaking or boating around the north side of the island, which is supposed to have all these glorious coves.

“Either is fine by me,” I say. “It’ll be fun either way.”

“Too bad we can’t do both,” Connor says.

I don’t think he’s used to having such a short amount of time to explore a place, but he’s being a good sport about it.

“Are you missing that wide-open calendar?” I ask, teasing.

He grins, lifts my hand, and plants a kiss on it. “I don’t miss anything when I’m with you.” I reward his sweet talking with a smile. “How about we just wake up tomorrow and see how we feel?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We polish off the rest of our dessert, then fall into a contented silence, watching the water.

I’m again thinking about the promotion offer, trying to decide how to bring it up and what to say. But the opportunity passes me by yet again, thanks to my procrastinating, and Connor gets us on a new topic. The topic itself makes me clean forget the promotion. He thinks his brother might be having an affair with one of their employees.

“What?” I ask, wide-eyed.

Connor nods. “I’m shocked, too. I wouldn’t have thought he’d do anything like this. And maybe he isn’t but… I think he is.” Connor fills me in on his conversation with his Events Manager, and says he’s not sure if he should get Lizzy in on things, or talk with the employee himself, or what he should do. Then he tells me about Rayce’s denial, but Connor doesn’t believe him.

Which leads to us talking about how strained their relationship still is. I knew it had been bad for several months. What surprises me is that it isn’t getting any better. I’d been under the impression that Rayce had been frustrated with Connor because he wasn’t making a decision about whether or not he’d continue at the resort.

“I don’t understand why Rayce is still being so short with you,” I say. “Now that he knows you’re staying, doesn’t he feel better about things?”

“Uh.” Connor has an uncomfortable look on his face. “Well… I haven’t really made that official yet.”

I blink, not processing what he said. “What do you mean, official? The lawyer doesn’t know yet?”

He gives me an apologetic look. “No. Rayce and Lizzy don’t know yet.”

My eyebrows shoot up and my blood drops. “You haven’t told them?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know why I haven’t.”

“But…” I’m trying to keep my cool, but this has knocked me off kilter more than a bit. “You told me you did.”

“No, I absolutely did not,” he says, gentle but firm.

Even as he’s saying it, I realize he’s right. He
didn’t
say that. He told
me
he wanted to stay. I had only assumed he’d told his siblings the same thing.

“Why haven’t you told them?” It’s been a month. “Are you changing your mind?” My heart is pumping hard. God, my biggest fear has been that I won’t be able to keep this restless piece of wind after all, and this just proves I was right to fear it.

“No, I’m not,” he says leaning toward me earnestly, and he does seem to mean it. It settles me a bit, but I’m still scared. “I just… I will. I promise.” He kisses my hand, then brings it into his lap and holds it tightly between both hands. I’m slowly settling down, but I’m watching him carefully, still unsure. “I will,” he says firmly. “I’m not changing my mind. All right?”

“All right.” I don’t want to push it because he does seem sincere, but… it also seems like he should’ve told them by now. I can’t see why he wouldn’t unless he’s still not sure himself.

“I just haven’t found the right time to have this conversation with them,” he says. “It doesn’t help that Rayce is so hard to deal with now.”

“Maybe that will change once he knows.”

“Maybe. But this thing with the affair makes me think there’s more going on with him than I thought. This is so out of character.”

I sigh. I can tell he wants to talk about Rayce, but I don’t know if I want to change the subject. I want to know that he’s staying for good, like I thought he was. But even though I still feel uneasy, I’m reluctant to pressure him. He said he’ll tell them. I think I can wait a little longer, to see what he does. “Well,” I say, deciding to let the conversation go in a different direction for now, “is there any chance he’s drinking too much or doing drugs or something?”

“Drugs?!” Connor says. “God, I hope not! Why do you think that?”

“Well, I don’t, necessarily. It’s just that when you describe your brother when you guys were growing up, and even a few years ago, he seems really different than the person you describe now.”

Connor sighs. “He is different.”

“Maybe it’s this loss you guys have had. Do you think he’s grieving okay?”

“Grieving okay?” Connor squeezes my hand and leans back in his seat. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s been hard on all of us. And he’s never been real touchy feely, so… I don’t know. Is there a wrong way to grieve?”

“No. As long as you’re actually doing it. Maybe he’s avoiding it, or just not coping well with such a big loss. We see that a lot with our kids. Does he ever talk about your parents?”

Connor nods. “Yeah, sometimes. He talks about how important it is that we live up to their legacy, you know?”

I nod. I’ve heard this before. “But that’s just business.” I don’t think that’s the same thing as saying,
I really miss Mom and Dad.
“Does he ever talk about them like a
son
?”

Connor gives me a funny look. “That
is
talking about them like a son. The resort’s not just a business, honey. It was Dad’s dream. His passion.” He cocks his head at me. “I haven’t told you how he started it all, have I?”

I shake my head.

“Ah, well.” He settles deeper into his chair and smiles a bit. “He and Mom were living up in San Francisco at the time, back when Rayce and Lizzy were little kids. I wasn’t around yet. She was an executive for this big hotel and he was a real estate agent, like his older brother. He sold these really high-end properties all over northern and central California. Sometimes SoCal too, but mostly upstate. Anyway, this client contacts him and says he wants him to list this property in Swan Pointe.”

Connor smiles fully now, eagerly embracing our new topic. I settle into my chair too, sinking into another one of his stories.

“Well Dad drives down there to meet the guy so he can write up the listing. It was the resort, obviously, but it wasn’t anything like it is today. It had fallen into disrepair and hadn’t been updated since it’d been built in the Twenties. It was a real shit hole, he liked to say.”

Connor laughs. “But he’s walking through the property and he gets this vision for what it could be. It was really different, back then. You wouldn’t believe the pictures. Only one pool. Interior elevator bays. No windows along the back lobby, which was actually just a single-story lobby originally. God, I could go on. But my dad,” Connor’s eyes are all lit up, kind of the way they get when he comes to a fork in the road, “he’s walking through it all and taking notes like he’s going to list the thing. But the whole time he’s seeing things. Another pool here. Glass elevators there. A big mosaic on the floor here,” and Connor sweeps his hand in a circle like he’s seeing it himself, right this moment.

I am too. I’m smiling, watching him and imagining it all.

“So he finishes up with his client and says he’ll send him a draft of the listing the next day. But he drives back up to San Francisco, pulls my mom out of work, and drags her back down there. Oh, I wish you could hear her tell this part. She’d go on about how he was like a little kid, telling her everything he saw in his head.” Connor laughs again. “So just like that, the decision was made.”

“I can see where you get your impulsive side,” I say, teasing him.

He grins and nods. “Yeah. The good impulsive, though.”

“Is there a bad impulsive?”

Connor laughs. “I assure you, there is. And there were times in the beginning when Mom wondered if the resort wasn’t bad impulsive. They sold literally everything they had that was worth anything, bought the resort, and sunk every last penny into renovating it and covering their operating expenses. At first they lived right there on property with Rayce and Lizzy in this little two-room suite. I don’t know how they did it. Not long after, Mom found out she was pregnant with me. Everyone likes to tease me that I was conceived in Room 701.”

He rolls his eyes and I chuckle. “Were you?”

“She didn’t know for sure. I’ll have to show you the room sometime. It’s the only room that wasn’t renovated. There’s a whole other story that goes with that room.” He grins. “Anyway, they made it work. Mom was a marketing genius and leveraged her connections in Hollywood to get big names to come check it out.”

“Your mom had connections in Hollywood?”

“My grandfather’s a career scriptwriter and director. Nothing major so you’ve probably never heard of him, but he’s been doing it for something like forty years and he knows
everybody
. Mom said he’s one of those industry legends who’s only legendary inside the industry.” Connor smiles.

“Wow.”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but I think it’s pretty cool. “Anyway, between completely reinventing the resort and offering free stays to the Hollywood elite to help put it on the map, my parents created something completely new. A place where people could come and get pampered and forget about all their stresses for a while. We have plenty of wealthy people who come stay and it’s just another nice vacation for them. But many of our guests really have to save up for it. Dad always said either way, it’s our job to make sure we give them a beautiful memory that’s worth more than what they spent on it.”

Connor’s face goes soft as he remembers. I rest my chin in my hand, watching him and falling in love with him a little more, like I do every time I discover some new piece of his heart.

“This is what we grew up with, Whitney. It’s not a business. It’s a dream. It meant something to them. Everything you see is there because my mom or my dad dreamed it up in their head.” He sighs. “I think that’s why it’s so hard for us to want to change anything.”

“Also why it’s so hard to leave?”

He doesn’t answer. He just kisses my hand, then puts it back on his lap, lost in his own thoughts.

Even though you want to,
I want to say, but don’t.