The Man From High Mountain. Kay DavidЧитать онлайн книгу.
tried to explain. “Richard, you’ve been so kind, so patient, and I really do appreciate it, but I...I’m having nightmares again...and well...I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I want to sell the ranch—”
He picked up the box holding the diamond and took her hand in his, interrupting her words to slip the ring over her finger. “Maybe this could help make up your mind.”
She looked at the enormous diamond. It felt heavy and foreign on her finger and had obviously cost a fortune. “It’s really beautiful but—”
“No more buts. I picked it out just for you. Please...”
She hesitated again, then spoke softly. “Richard... I—I can’t do anything until I take care of the ranch first. You know that. We’ve discussed this before.”
He shook his head slowly, a look of patience on his aristocratic features. “Please don’t be offended, but I think you’re using that as an excuse, sweetheart. It’s time for our relationship to get serious. It’s time to move on.”
“And selling the ranch is the first step to doing that.” She leaned across the table. “Don’t you see, Richard? The only closure I’ll be able to find with Jack’s death will be gained by getting rid of Diablo. His killers got away, but I can get rid of the place if nothing else.” She leaned back in her chair. “Besides, there’s no reason on earth to keep the property—”
“Darling, there’s lots of reasons. That land is gorgeous, for one! When I saw it—that time I went out with Jack before he bought it—I loved the place. Anyone would. And if land prices keep going up, it’s going to be worth a fortune some day. If you hang on to the ranch, you could end up being a very rich woman.” He smiled again. “That’s what I’d call a good reason to keep it.”
“I’m rich already,” she said bluntly. “Jack left an insurance policy of almost a million dollars. Between that and the business, I’ll never need any money.” Without thinking, she began to knead her shoulder. Beneath the silk, she could feel the slight indentation of the scar. Of the bullet wound. “What I don’t need is that land. The memories are too bad, and I want to get rid of it. I could never go back there.”
“Then don’t go. But don’t sell it.”
“I have to.”
“You’re being foolish.”
“I don’t care.”
They stared at each other, a standoff in the making. He was being practical, realistic, the way men usually were. She was going beyond that, into an emotional abyss he didn’t understand and she couldn’t really explain.
A moment’s silence passed, then Richard reached for the champagne bottle and refilled her flute. “What do you say we talk about this later? I want this to be our special night.” The pale gold wine bubbled up and edged over the rim of the glass, dampening the tablecloth. Richard’s eyes met hers above the candles. “Let’s just celebrate, then if you really do want to sell the place, we’ll discuss it some more, I promise.”
They’d already discussed the issue more than once, and each time he’d tried to change her mind. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was sure that’s why her nightmares had returned. She’d felt compelled to press the issue more and more lately, maybe because she’d sensed Richard’s proposal was coming and knew she couldn’t decide with the ranch hanging over her. For a second, she considered persevering. Then after a moment more of thought, Taylor gave in. He was right. This wasn’t the time or the place.
“All right,” she said quietly. “We’ll talk about it later. But in the meantime, you keep the ring.”
She tugged at the band of gold with the giant stone, but he reached across the table and stopped her a second time from taking it off. “No, please, Taylor. Wear it, look at the diamond, and think of me...and think how happy I could make you if you’d let me.”
“But—”
“Please...”
She hesitated, then finally acquiesced. He’d done so much for her, had helped with everything. He’d be the perfect husband, she was sure. “All right. But I’m not saying yes.”
He grinned. “But you’re not saying no.”
She smiled back. “I promise you I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” He opened his menu with an approving smile that told her he knew what her answer would be, then began to discuss what they should order. She listened inattentively, and her fingers found her shoulder and rubbed it slowly.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK came and went, and they didn’t talk about selling the ranch. And the week after that, they didn’t discuss it either. Always on the edge, Taylor felt the pendulum of her emotions swinging out of control, her nerves like wires, stripped and bare. She talked the situation over with Dr. Kornfeld, but Taylor seemed unable to control her thoughts. As if they had a mind of their own, they began to coalesce and focus with an intensity bordering on obsession. All she could think about was one thing—selling Diablo. If she just did that, she knew everything else would fall into place. Getting rid of the ranch and all the emotional baggage it carried would set her free. A telephone call to a real estate agent wouldn’t do it, either. She didn’t tell Richard, or Dr. Kornfeld, but the more Taylor thought about it, the more certain she became.
She had to go back, back to Diablo. To step in the red dust and to taste the fear before she could put it behind her and get on with her life.
“I’ll be calling Martha next week about the first container, so be sure and have her talk to the shipper before then. Also we’ll need to arrange for special storage. The French armoire Mrs. Rogers wants will need to be in a humidity-controlled place until we see how much restoration it requires.” Richard looked over the edge of his glasses at Taylor. “You know where I’ll be staying, don’t you?”
They were at the gallery, tending to a few last-minute details before Richard left on a six-week buying trip to Europe. The trip had come up unexpectedly.
From the other side of the partner’s desk they shared, Taylor answered, struggling to focus on his words and not her thoughts. “You always stay at the same place, Richard. If I need you; I’ll be able to find you, don’t worry.”
He moved to her side with an apologetic smile. “I’m getting uptight, aren’t I?”
“It’s okay. Trips like this take a lot of coordination. I’d be uptight, too.”
“I’m glad you understand.” He reached out and smoothed her hair. “I want you to promise me something, though.”
She looked up. “What?”
“I want you to take some time off while I’m gone. The gallery will be just fine with both of us gone. Martha can handle any crisis better than even you or I, so I want you to relax a little. Go down to the beach house or even better, fly to Florida for a week or so. You need some time off—to think about our future together.”
He was always so generous, so kind. Why did she have to spoil it all by insisting they talk about the ranch? Taylor took a deep breath and started to speak, but Richard had already turned and disappeared into the hall. He came back into the office a few moments later, a sheaf of invoices in his hand. A deep furrow of concern was drawn across his forehead as he studied them, and when he laid them down on the desk, he sighed so heavily she had to put aside her thoughts of Diablo.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to take a quick look at last month’s statements before I left and they’re as bad as I thought. We’ve got to start doing better. Our profits are slipping. We’ve had some good sales lately, but nothing spectacular.” He took a peppermint from his pocket, unwrapped it and slipped the candy into his mouth. Absentmindedly, he twisted the tiny plastic sheath that had covered the candy into a double knot. He did this constantly. She found the wrappers everywhere. “Maybe