What She'd Do for Love (17 page)

Maybe it wasn’t right or even logical that she was angry with Ryder, but her feelings were real, and she couldn’t do anything to change them—at least not until more time had passed. “If I see him, I promise to be civil,” she said.

Mom’s expression didn’t change. “I was hoping the two of you would hit it off,” she said. “You seem so well suited, and it would be nice to see you settled.”

“I’d like to be settled, too, Mom, but maybe I should start with a job and a place to live. I have plenty of time in my life for romance.” She’d keep repeating these words until she could believe them.

Mom grabbed a sheet of newspaper and began wrapping the dishes they’d washed and dried. “I think Ryder needs someone in his life.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Call it a mother’s intuition. The first time I met him, I thought, here is a young man who’s searching for something.”

Christa shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mom. I think Ryder is happy with the life he has.”

“No. Wandering from town to town like that, with no permanent home, is not what he truly wants. He may think he’s doing well, but that’s only because he’s never known anything different. Given the right woman, I think he’d be happy to settle down.”

“Seems like a big risk for the woman—maybe he’d be happy for a few months or a few years, then the next thing she knew, he’d be restless and wanting to uproot her and any children they had.”

“Every marriage is a risk, if you look at it that way,” Mom said. “But with the right two people, the gamble always pays off.”

Tinny music from the other room signaled a call coming in to Christa’s phone. “I’d better get that,” she said, and raced to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Christa! It’s Paul, here at the bank.”

“Oh, hi, Paul.” Christa leaned against the dining table she’d been using as her desk. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping I could hire you to do some marketing work for the bank. We want to put together some ads that play up our long history in the area. You know—‘your grandfather trusted us and you can trust us, too’ kind of thing. Something we can roll out in conjunction with opening our new branch out on the highway next spring.”

“Um, I guess I could do that.” Already, she could picture ads with black-and-white images of ranchers and cowboys, juxtaposed with color photos of modern businesses. “Did Kelly or Didi put you up to this?”

“They might have mentioned that you were taking some private clients. But what are friends for? So will you do it?”

“Sure. I’ll need to meet with you to discuss your ideas.”

“Do you have time this afternoon?”

She glanced at the papers spread across the table. All she had planned for the afternoon was more cold calling. “Sure.”

“Let’s meet at one. I’ll pull out some examples of what we’ve done before. I’m sure you can come up with something better.”

“Thanks, Paul. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet until you see how little we pay. In case you didn’t know it, banks are real cheapskates.”

“I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.” She wasn’t going to sell herself short, but then again, she wasn’t in a position to be overly picky.

She ended the call and returned to the kitchen. “That was Paul Raybourn at the bank,” she said. “He wants to hire me to do an ad campaign for them.”

“Oh, that’s nice, dear.” Mom fit a wrapped casserole dish into a packing box. “It’s good to stay busy while you look for a full-time job.”

Right. Something with benefits and a regular paycheck that could cover rent. “Anyway, I’m meeting with him this afternoon.”

“You should look up Ryder while you’re in town. Maybe he has contacts at the state who would have a job for you.”

“What kind of work would I do for the state?”

“Oh, I don’t know, dear. You’re very talented. I think you could do almost anything.”

Great. She’d put that on her résumé—that her mother thought she could do anything. She kissed Mom’s cheek. “Don’t work too hard and wear yourself out. I should be back in time to help with supper.”

“Take your time.”

Christa went to her room to change into something more business-like. As she closed the door, she heard her mom singing again, picking up where she’d left off earlier about life going on.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

R
YDER
STARED
OUT
at the deserted construction site, the knot of tension in his stomach growing. At this time of day, the roar of graders and dump trucks should fill the air, and at least a dozen workers should be busy extending the short stretch of pavement toward town. Instead, the only sound was the sigh of wind in the trees bordering the road. A tumbleweed bounced across the scraped ground and came to rest against the wheel of an idle grader.

The jangle of his phone broke the eerie silence. He frowned at the number on the screen, then hit the button to answer the call. “Greg, what is going on?” Ryder asked, before his boss could even speak. “Why isn’t anyone working on the site?”

“I tried to reach you earlier, but you weren’t answering the phone.” All the usual heartiness had fled from Greg’s voice, replaced by a weariness that made him sound older.

“What’s going on?” Ryder began to pace.

“The project’s been cancelled. The legislature slashed the department’s budget by fifty percent. As of this morning, we’ve had to halt every new construction project in the state.”

“That’s insane.”

“They pledged not to raise taxes and this is their way of handling it,” Greg said. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m sorry.”

“So all these people suddenly don’t have jobs? And what about the work we’ve already done?”

“I was able to find places for some of the people but, yes, most of them are unemployed now. We’ll get a crew out there to load up the equipment in the next day or two. We’ll leave what we’ve done and hope the next election cycle we can pick it up again. I’m sorry, Ryder. I wish I had better news for you. And I wish I could keep you on. You’re one of the best engineers I’ve had the pleasure to work with. But I don’t have room in the budget for you.”

Ryder watched another tumbleweed crash into the first, trying to absorb this news. He’d been so focused on the impact this would have on his workers and the townspeople that he hadn’t even considered what it would mean to him. “So I’m laid off, too,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I’m really over a barrel here.”

“It’s not your fault, Greg.”

“I’ll let you know if anything changes. What are you going to do?”

“Right now I have a meeting with a banker in town. I’ll have to break the news to him.”

“I meant where will you go from here?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think that far ahead yet.”

Greg said something about a separation package and unemployment benefits, but Ryder didn’t really hear him. He was already focused on how he was going to explain this news to the people in town he’d come to care about.

He hung up the phone and started to punch in Christa’s number. The line was ringing before he came to his senses and disconnected. He was the last person she’d want to speak to right now. And he needed more time to figure out what to say to her.

Twenty minutes later, he sank into the client chair across from Paul’s desk at the bank. “You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet,” Paul said. “Is all the overtime getting to you, or is something else wrong?”

“Something’s wrong all right.”

“Oh?” Paul leaned toward him. “What is it?”

He glanced around the bank. This time of day, business was slow; only one other customer was at the teller window. Still, he kept his voice down. “I just got a call from my boss. The legislature is cancelling this project. They’re defunding it, effective immediately. There’s enough to pay for the work we’ve already done, but that’s it.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“That’s a lot of people out of work,” Paul said.

“And I’m one of them.” He rubbed his hand over his face, as if he could rub away some of the numbness. One moment he’d been doing a job he loved. The next moment—it was gone.

“What are you going to do?” Paul asked.

“I have no idea.” He looked around the bank again. “I hope the people around here will understand this wasn’t my decision and won’t blame me for this fiasco. I got their hopes up about the new highway and now it’s all gone. Just an ugly scar across the land—a few miles of pavement leading nowhere.”

“We should organize a protest,” Paul said. “A letter writing campaign or something. The state is wasting more money than they’re saving by stopping the project.”

“You can try, but I don’t think it will do much good. They say the money isn’t there, and the politicians have made a pledge not to raise taxes, no matter the cost.”

“Then I guess we won’t be building that new branch.” Paul crumpled a sheet of paper and tossed it into the wastebasket beside his desk. “And all these loans we’ve written so other businesses can relocate won’t be needed either.”

“This is going to hurt a lot of people,” Ryder said. “I wish I could do something to help.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault if things have gotten screwed up,” Paul said. He looked toward the door. “Uh-oh.”

“What is it?” Ryder turned to see Christa walking toward them. She wore a crisp summer shift, her hair loose around her face. She hesitated only a second when she recognized Ryder, then squared her shoulders and moved forward. He felt sick to his stomach. If she’d been upset with him before, she’d have no reason to change her opinion now.

He stood to greet her. “Hello, Christa.”

“Hello, Ryder.” She faced Paul. “Do you really want to talk about a marketing campaign, or was that an excuse to make me apologize to Ryder?”

“Hey, I had no idea he was going to be here this afternoon.” Paul held up both hands. “Honest. I really did want to hire you to plan a marketing push for us, but now...”

Paul looked at Ryder, and Christa followed suit. “Now what? What’s going on? Why do you both look so guilty?”

“The state cancelled the highway project,” Ryder said.

She looked stunned, and lowered herself into the second client chair. “They’re stopping it right where it is?”

“That’s what I was told. They’re loading up the equipment to head back to Austin sometime in the next day or two.”

“That’s crazy,” she said.

“We are talking about politicians,” Paul said. He shuffled papers on his desk. “I’m sorry, Christa, but it looks like we won’t be building that new branch, so I can’t use your services.”

She ignored him, focused on Ryder. “What about Mom and Dad?”

“With no highway, the state doesn’t need the right-of-way through their ranch. Your home is safe.”

“They were counting on that money for their retirement. I was talking to Mom just this morning. She was really looking forward to a new house, and traveling...”

“I’m sorry.” He had a feeling he was going to be saying those words to a lot of people over the next few days, but he would never mean them more than he did right now. He’d come into town promising good things and a bright future to everyone. Now, none of that was coming true. Fairly or unfairly, people were going to blame him.

“Ryder’s losing his job, too,” Paul said.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that yet.”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s hard enough to absorb the news, much less think about what comes next.”

“I’ll call your folks as soon as I have more details from the state, but if they have any questions in the meantime, or just want to talk, tell them to call me.” He had no idea what he’d say to Bud and Adele, but he wouldn’t avoid them. They had every right to be upset and he wouldn’t make excuses. This was all wrong. And completely out of his control.

“I’d better get home and tell them before they hear it from someone else.” She stood and started to move away, then turned back. “I’m sorry about your job, Ryder. I know that isn’t easy. None of this is.”

Then she was gone, hurrying out the door, into the bright sunshine.

“She didn’t sound like a woman who’s holding a grudge,” Paul said.

“She’s still in shock,” Ryder said. “Give her time and she’ll probably be at the head of the lynch mob.”

“You don’t give people around here enough credit,” Paul said. “They like you and they’ll know you had nothing to do with this decision.”

“Then why do I feel so responsible?”

“Because you’re that kind of guy.” Paul flipped his pen onto his desk and sat back in his chair. “So what’s next, chief?”

“I’ll stick around long enough to answer people’s questions. I owe everyone that. Plus, my dad’s coming to town.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I haven’t seen him in a while, but he has a tendency to try to take over. He’ll have a lot of advice on how I should run my life. I really don’t want to hear it.”

“Then you’ll have to distract him.”

“Right. How can I do that?”

“Take him to the Blue Bell for banana chocolate-chip waffles and put him in a sugar coma. Then send him out to Little Creek with a fishing pole and no cell coverage.”

“Or I could send him to my mom in Dallas. She has a lot of experience handling him.”

“That would work, too. And give you time to focus on Christa.”

“What about Christa?”

“You’re not going to let her walk away from you, are you?”

“Paul, I don’t have a job. I can’t stay in town with no work to support myself. For that matter, Christa’s unemployed and she doesn’t know where she’s going to end up living. Neither one of us is in a good position to start or continue a relationship.”

“You idiot. When times are bad, you need your friends most. You two can help each other. And one thing’s for sure—if you can get through this, your relationship can survive anything.”

“I never knew bankers were such romantics.” He stood. “Thanks for your concern, but I think I’d better leave Christa alone. We’ve both got enough to deal with right now.”

“So you’re not going to fight for her?”

He shook his head. “I know there are some battles a man can’t win.”

* * *

C
HRISTA
HAD
GOTTEN
what she wanted: the highway project cancelled and her family’s ranch untouched, yet she found nothing to celebrate in this sudden turn of events. Dinner that evening had the air of a funeral, her mother long-faced and red-eyed, and her father withdrawn. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Mom said, staring at her untouched plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

“I’m going to call my representative and give him a piece of my mind.” Dad stabbed at a slice of meatloaf. “The government has done some harebrained things before, but this has to be their stupidest move yet.”

“All those people out of work,” Mom said. “Not to mention all the other income lost. Etta Mae said they’ve had enough extra business at the Blue Bell from the construction workers that she was planning to finally get a new roof on her house. When Janet called to tell me the news, she said Kelly had been crying all afternoon. With no highway coming in, the people building the new shopping center cancelled all the leases.”

Christa’s stomach hurt at the thought of her friend in such distress. She laid aside her fork. “That’s terrible,” she murmured.

“Ryder’s out of a job, too,” Dad said. “I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

“What is this world coming to, when capable young people like you and Ryder can’t get jobs?” Mom sipped iced tea and stared, dull-eyed, at Christa.

Christa shifted in her chair. She wanted to point out that Ryder was used to dealing with change, that he’d probably bounce back with no problem and move on to a new town and a new job with scarcely a ripple in his easygoing life. But she couldn’t believe that anymore, not after seeing how devastated he’d been when she’d met him this afternoon. She hadn’t realized how much this job meant to him until that instant. While she had family and home and lifelong friends close by to ease the pain of her job loss, his family was scattered, most of them far away. He’d defined himself by his job; without that, he had little left to cling to.

She pushed her plate away, unable to eat. “What will you do with the ranch now?” she asked. “Will you try to sell it to a private buyer?”

“Nobody wants to buy a ranch in the middle of a drought,” Dad said. “Ben Simons, on the other side of the county, has had his place for sale for two years, without a single offer.”

“I’m sorry,” Christa said. “I really am.”

What more could she say? She didn’t have the power to give her parents back their dream of a comfortable retirement and travel to places they’d always wanted to see, anymore than she was able to restore Kelly’s prospects for a new and expanded salon, or return Ryder to his job. All of that was out of her control, and yet she still felt guilty. Maybe because, if someone had asked her even a few days ago what her preferred outcome of this project would be, having it cancelled would have been at the top of her list.

When had her perspective changed? Maybe when she’d heard her mom singing, and seen the happiness in her eyes when she talked of going to Paris. Maybe when she’d stood with Kelly in that half-finished store-front and listened to her friend describe all the new things she was going to try to grow her business.

Or maybe she’d changed her mind during those tense moments with Ryder, when she’d glimpsed the vulnerable, hurting man beneath the brave, optimistic shell. She’d spent so much time resisting all the changes around her, without considering how much keeping things the same could hurt the people she loved.

“Oh, Christa!”

She looked up at Mom’s pained cry. “What is it?”

“I just realized—without the highway project and the new shopping center, you won’t have the marketing work you were going to do for Kelly and the bank.”

“I guess not.” She hadn’t even considered this. “I’ll find something else.” It wasn’t as if those small jobs would have been enough to keep her going for very long.

Her father said nothing, shoveling in food with the automatic movements of someone who is eating out of habit than from any real hunger. Christa and her mother left their plates untouched. At last, Dad pushed back from the table. “I’m going out to the barn to check on the horses,” he said.

Christa stood and began clearing the table. She carried the stack of plates into the kitchen and was running hot water into the sink when Mom brought in the remains of the meatloaf. “Let me get the dishes,” Mom said. “You go and talk to your father.”