Yearning for Love (10 page)

I look outside and see the snow continuing to fall. Hmm. I may
not
be able to leave if this snowfall continues. I’d better think of something, just in case I can’t leave. I remember Brenda and her guests and join into the conversation.

Corey
:  Oh, God, that shirt he’s wearing! It matches his eyes exactly. He really looks good enough to eat. Oh, I’m in trouble, here. I’m just going to have to keep giving him the cold shoulder, but I have to be subtle about it, or Little Miss Ashleigh Manners will get me into trouble. As I think this, I try to join in the conversation that Nate is involved in. He’s talking about the snowstorm outside.

“Brenda, do you know how long this snowfall will last? I need to leave tomorrow,” he says.

“They didn’t say that it would be a big storm, Nate. I don’t think it’ll stop you from leaving. It’s actually falling kind of slowly, just adding an inch or so to the snowfall we got last week,” my mom says.

Mom’s guests all say they need to leave tomorrow as well. I suggest we check the Weather Channel to find out what they are reporting about this snowfall. Nate helpfully gets up and switches on the Weather Channel, which says that the snowfall we are experiencing will be “insignificant.” The announcer does warn about black ice and driving carefully, but doesn’t say that the State Police will be closing the highway going through Ruidoso. After switching the television off, Nate comes back with a thoughtful expression.

“Good suggestion, Corey. We can leave tomorrow, so we’ll be in the office on Monday morning.”

I simply raise my eyebrows at him, but decide it’s not worth reminding him that I still intend to resign. I’ll deal with that later. After lunch, Mom, Nate and I lounge in the living room, trying to get over the effects of eating too much. Mom’s guests pack their bags and check out, so they can drive home or to the airport before the roads get icy. This leaves the big, old house almost empty, which makes me a little nervous. Now, I can’t avoid Nate, although I’m certainly going to try. I begin with my e-reader, diving back into my YA teen romance with Lily and Gabe. Fortunately for me, the story becomes dramatic and full of suspense, as the teen heroine struggles to extricate herself from a dysfunctional relationship with her boyfriend, Tyler. I sympathize with her realization that she’s gotten herself involved with an abusive boy, who intends to do her harm, just because he thinks he can. If I’m completely honest with myself, I experienced something completely different with Nate, but the way he treated me after our trip to Germany was completely inexcusable.

Mom falls asleep on the sofa after all her guests leave. I hope she’s going to have a few days of peace and solitude, and if I can, I intend to stay with her. I feel Nate watching me, and bury myself even deeper into Lily and Gabe’s story. Finally, Nate gets up and wanders off in search of something to do. After a while, I hear him tinkering with some more of the repairs that constantly need doing here. Well, at least he’s saving Mom a bundle of money. Now, she won’t have to call contractors or repairmen –
 
if he does the work right. After a few hours, Mom rouses and wakes up. She brings boxes from the large garage, so she can begin putting Christmas decorations away. I put my Kindle away and help her. A few hours later, the house has been returned to its usual appearance. We store the boxes back on their shelves in the garage and discuss dinner.

“Mom, I’m still full. I’d just as soon wait a while, but if you want to eat, go ahead. I’ll drink some hot mint tea with you,” I tell her.

“I’d rather wait, too. Now that my guests have left, I don’t have to stick to a certain dinner time, so I’d prefer waiting until I actually feel hungry,” Mom says. With that settled, we decide to go for a short walk in the falling snow. Mom runs upstairs to tell Nate, and comes back down with an old bath towel, which she spreads just inside the front door.

We’re bundled up with our hoods pulled up and mittens on our hands. We walk carefully going from the house, stroll down the main road, and go back again. We talk about my resignation from Drummond Oil and move up here to Ruidoso.

“Honey, I’d love to have you here –
 
I really would, but you know that there’s not a lot for a girl your age to do, unless you’re into horses, hiking, backpacking – or gambling, and I know you’re not. Be honest with me - what’ll happen if you decide you don’t like it up here, and you’ve completely uprooted your life to move here? What will you do then?”

Mom makes a very good point. I think as I walk, with my hands jammed into my jacket pocket.

“Okay, how about this as an option? I keep my apartment and keep paying the monthly rent on it. I’ll move up here on a three-month trial basis. If I like it, country life and all, my move is permanent. If it turns out I don’t like it, then I’ll start a job search, and return to either El Paso or Las Cruces.”

“I like it, but I’d like it better if you started the job search right away – Monday – so that, if you decide country life isn’t for you, you won’t lose valuable time on a job search.” We discussed all our options, and decided that Mom’s and my ideas, in combination, were the best.

“Okay, then, you’ll do that – but first, Corey, you have to talk to that man in the house. He’s miserable. He loves you.”

“Hah. He has a damned great way of showing it. I’ll talk to him – but he doesn’t love me. Any man who tells someone that his personnel office will update her on his father’s condition wouldn’t know love if it took a chunk of his shapely ass.”
Mom had the gall to snicker.

By the time we return, our cheeks and noses are pink, and my hands are numb. I’m also feeling more hungry, so we heat up more posole, and stick some bolillo rolls into the smallest oven to heat up.

Nate, hearing us in the kitchen, bounds downstairs, full of smiles and energy. I realize I’m going to have to talk to him, but I decide to keep it as impersonal as possible.

“So, what did you do while Corey and I walked?” Mom asks.

“I finished those repairs in the Otero bedroom. That window frame I fixed should allow you to raise and lower the window more easily now. The frame was just a little bit off, so I rubbed some graphite on the frame until you can get a specialist in to fix it. That does need to be professionally done,” says Nate.

Mom sighs. We both know that a house of this vintage and size requires constant upkeep. That doesn’t make paying for the repairs any easier, though.

“Mom, if you’re going to accept my offer, you don’t have to pay me very much. I don’t have many bills,” I tell her. “Use the money to cover the repairs.”

Mom looks at me with her slanted head look.

“You have some things to work out before either of us makes a solid decision. I have savings in the business account. I’ll just check to find the most qualified technician for that window and any others that are off-kilter.”

“But Mom!”

“No ‘but mom,’ Corina Michele Temple. Period.” When Mom uses my full name, I’m in trouble. I zip my lip, opening my mouth only to spoon posole in. I steal a quick look at Nate, and see that he’s struggling not to laugh. His dimples appear, disappear and reappear, as his mouth quivers.

After a few minutes of quiet, interrupted only by the “clink” of spoons against our bowls, Nate ventures in.

“Brenda, how long have you owned your B&B? You run a top-notch operation. You must get a lot of return business.”

“I’ve owned it for going on eight years, after Corey’s dad died. He had set up some investments, and I decided it would be best to have a solid land investment, as well as my more-liquid investments, so, when I found the listing here, I applied for a loan and was approved. I did the work to convert it from a large private home to a B&B – mainly in the kitchen and the home infrastructure, although I had to upgrade to comply with state and local codes. I’ve been bringing guests in steadily ever since. So far, it’s proved to be a good move for me, although as I get closer to retirement . . .”

I look at Mom, wanting to repeat my earlier words. She anticipates this and gives me “her look.” I keep my mouth shut. After we clean up from dinner, I pull Lily and Gabe out again and nestle into a comfortable recliner in the family room. At about ten that night, my eyes start to get heavy, so I decide it’s time to go upstairs and go to bed. In the shower, I puzzle over a way to let Nate know that I’m willing to talk, but no promises. I’m not able to come up with any ideas, so I decide to read some more, then sleep on the situation. I’ve been reading for about fifteen minutes when I hear a quiet knock on my door. Thinking it’s Mom, I open it wide, then stand there frozen as I see Nate.

“Please, Corey. I need to talk to you,” he pleads, as he holds the door.

“Fine. Come in and talk, then go back to your own room,” I tell him, imitating my mother’s pert, slant-headed posture. I force myself to step back, and allow him to walk in. I shrug and sit down in the comfortable armchair in one corner of my room.

Nate walks in, after shutting the door.
Uh-oh! This means trouble.

My eyes widen, and I bring my knees to my chest, putting my feet against the cushion in a defensive posture. I wrap my arms around my legs, and force myself to relax. Nate sits on my bed and gazes at me.

“Corey, I am so sorry. Brenda – your mom – told me just how badly I screwed up last week in El Paso. I . . . there’s really no excuse, but . . . I was just so worried about my dad that . . .”

“You were an insensitive ass? Yep. I’ll agree with that,” I say curtly.
I won’t let him know how badly he hurt me! I won’t!

“I . . . deserve that,” he says. “I won’t try to plead worry over my dad. What I did was just plain wrong and, as you said, insensitive. I handled my feelings badly, and you got the worst of it.”

“Okay, now that you’re done heaping ashes on your robe of sackcloth, you can leave now. I was about to go to bed,” I tell him.

“No.”

“What? I don’t want to talk to you. I just want you to leave my room. Leave Ruidoso tomorrow, and go back to El Paso without me. I’m resigning,
Mr. Drummond.
Whether you like it or not. I can’t work with you anymore!” I say strongly.

Nate simply crosses his arms, and gives me a level look out with those devastating blue eyes. I can’t look at them, or I’m sunk.

“Mr. Drummond, I’m no longer your employee. I plan to stay here and work with my mother,” I say in a flat tone of voice.

“Don’t make a decision until we’ve talked. Once we both completely understand each other, if you still want to leave, I won’t try to stop you. Just, please . . . listen to me,” he pleads.

My eyes rise involuntarily to his. Was that a note of . . .
begging
I just heard in his voice? I see fear and desperation in his eyes and the lines of his face. Wow. He must be really anxious to unload. I decide I’ll hear him out . . . then go ahead with my plan to resign.

“Go ahead, then. Talk, then leave,” I tell him, keeping my arms firmly crossed over my torso.

Nate heaves out a huge sigh of relief, then sits down on the floor in front of my armchair. He’s going to make me look at his face, regardless, isn’t he?

“Corey, like I said a few minutes ago, I screwed up in a huge way. No excuses, here. I was wrong, wrong, wrong! You deserved much better – connectedness, compassion, a promise that
I
would call you, not my damned office staff.  I treated you ‘just’ like an employee, not someone with whom I’ve made a fantastic connection. Your mother lit into me when we talked about this, and she let me know that I was completely wrong in how I handled the situation. I like your mother. Brenda. She’s direct and honest. She really does love you . . . You’re really fortunate, because she’s your biggest champion.

“You might be wondering why she put conditions on your offer to stay here and work with her. She wants you to
know
that you made the right decision, for the
right
reasons – so that you won’t eventually regret landing here, in an isolated, beautiful region of the country.

“Corey, after I invited you to Germany, and we spent that fantastic week there, you had the right to expect better treatment. I’d like to make that up to you, if I could,” Nate said, with a note of hope in his voice.

“No. You . . . rejected me with the words, tone and attitude you used in front of the hospital. You . . . put me in my place, let me know that I’m ‘only’ an employee. It was like that week in Germany never even happened. I don’t know if you know or care how that felt, but I’ll be more than happy to tell you, Mr. Drummond.” I see him wince as I use his last name.
Good
. Let him feel bad! . . Even though no money exchanged hands, you did buy that dress; you did pay for the meals and our hotel suite. In short,
Mr. Drummond,
I was no better than a common escort. I . . . I didn’t like that one damned bit. You know why? It’s because I have value - to my family, to your company . . . and to me. And, when you ‘put me in my place,’ I decided I was going to honor myself, even if you hadn’t. Therefore, tomorrow, feel free to pack your bag, put it in your car, and wave Ruidoso bye-bye, because you no longer have any obligation to me, other than sending me my final paycheck and the paperwork for my 401k so I can find an investment firm to help me roll it over.
Mr. Drummond, I am not going back to El Paso. I am staying right here, in Ruidoso, where I will work with my mother and live happily – away from you.”
I refuse to tell him how I feel about him. My eyes look away from him, and I wrap my arms more tightly around my legs. I force myself to ignore the look of pain in Nate’s – Mr. Drummond’s – eyes. As I look away, I feel the telltale sting of tears in my eyes. Not wanting them to fall, I inhale carefully, and look at a far point in my room. I focus on staying calm and collected.