Sandra Marton - Reunited With The Billionaire

Not that she’d never had cramped muscles until the accident. A weekend of hard, competitive skiing had often left her feeling as if a sadist had tied her in knots. Seth would see her wince as she rubbed her calf or ankle, and he’d know she was hurting.

“Here,” he’d say, “let me help.”

She’d smile and put her foot in his lap—not easy to do in the confines of the cab of his old truck—and he’d knead her flesh gently, stroke her gently, and after a while a sensation that had nothing to do with pain would turn her bones to liquid.

“Miss?”

Wendy blinked. A middle-aged man had risen from his seat.

“Would you like to sit down?”

She wanted to. Lord, yes, she wanted to. Instead, she gave a thin smile. “Thank you, no.”

“I noticed…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh, noticed that your duffel looks heavy.”

“It isn’t,” she said, trying to sound polite.

Who was he kidding? What he’d noticed was the way she limped. She walked away as quickly as she could, never looking back, tired of people’s good intentions, tired of wanting to scream and tell them that trapped inside the woman with the limp was a girl who’d once been graceful, who’d flown down snow-covered slopes and through the gates like a hawk after a dove.

A sign blinked on. The commuter flight to Albany was boarding.

Not a moment too soon, Wendy thought, and didn’t slow her pace until she was on the plane and in her seat.

* * *

IT WAS THIRTY DEGREES in Albany, with a windchill that made it feel more like eighteen, according to the pilot’s cheerful landing announcement.

Wendy looked out the windows of the terminal as she made her way to the exit. Snow was piled in gigantic mounds. Fresh snow, from the pristine look of it. There’d been a time when she could tell how long snow had been on the ground just by the way the crystals reflected the light, especially on Jiminy Peak. Jiminy didn’t have the highest slopes in the area; compared with the mountains she’d skied in Colorado and Utah, Jiminy was hardly worthy of being called a mountain at all. But she’d skied there as a little girl, discovered her passion for speed on its trails, and it would always hold a special place in…

In what? Those days were gone. Damn it. Was a quick visit home turning her into a bundle of sloppy sentimentality?

An icy wind bit through her as she exited the terminal. She shivered, put down her duffel and zipped her anorak all the way to her chin. Her long, auburn hair was whipping around her face and she put up her hood and tucked the unruly curls inside while she looked around in search of Alison.

“I’ll meet you right outside the door,” Allie had said when they’d touched base a couple of days ago. And then she’d laughed and said how wonderful it was going to be to see each other again. “I can’t believe you’re coming home!”

“It’s just a visit,” Wendy had answered, correcting her oldest friend the same way she’d corrected her mother. Allie had said yes, sure, she understood that, but in a way that made it clear she didn’t believe it any more than Gina.

Snow began to fall, big, fat flakes. Wendy tugged a pair of gloves from her pockets and put them on.

That was all it was. A visit. She was here for a purpose, and if she was successful, she’d be ready to begin life again in a place that was free of memories. Not France, where she’d lived in a kind of twilight world these last years. Not Cooper’s Corner, where everything would only be a reminder of what had once been. She’d find a place where there were no ghosts, no shadows from the life she and Seth had once planned….

“Wendy?”

The snow was falling faster, tumbling down like feathers from a torn pillow in a heavily overcast sky. Someone was rushing toward her. A woman, bundled in a tweed coat.

“Wendy, oh my God, it’s really you!”

“Allie?” Wendy laughed and felt tears burn her eyes. “Allie,” she said, and she grabbed Alison Fairchild in a loving hug. “Oh, it’s been so long!”

The women held each other for long moments. Then they clasped hands, stepped back and grinned.

“I don’t believe it! Allie, you cut your hair!”

“Uh-huh.” Alison bit her lip. “Cut it and colored it, too. What do you think? Too big a change or what?”

“I think it’s wonderful! You look gorgeous!”

“Well, not gorgeous, but I finally figured that it couldn’t hurt to try and improve on Mother Nature. And talk about gorgeous…” Alison cocked her head and her gaze swept Wendy from head to toe. “You look terrific!”

Wendy’s smile tilted. “Yeah. Right.”

“I mean it. You haven’t gained an ounce, for which I just might not forgive you. No gray hairs in those red curls—and please, do not, I repeat, do not bother telling me women don’t get gray hairs at our age. Two years ago, and wham, there they were, silver threads among the gold. Not that the rest was gold then, but you know what I mean.”

“You used to talk about going blond when we were in our junior year, remember?”

Alison rolled her eyes. “Do I remember? How could I forget? There I was, everybody telling me I looked like Barbra Streisand—”

“A compliment,” Wendy said, falling into the old dialogue as if they were still in high school.

“Yes, if you’re la Streisand,” Allie said, picking up her end of the conversation with the same ease. “I may have her nose, but it doesn’t work on my face.”

“You don’t still believe that.”

“What I believe is that we’re going to turn into instant snowmen if we stand here much longer. Let me grab that duffel. My car’s in the first lot. Want to wait for the bus or—I mean, the bus stop is right—”

“I can walk.”

“Well, sure, but—”

“And I can carry my own bag.”

“I know, but—”

“Allie, listen. Let’s get this out of the way right now, okay?”

“Oh, hell. Wendy, I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t. I just want to set the record straight. I’m strong as a horse. Honestly, I am. I spent years in rehab. I still do hours of exercise each day. I can walk. I can carry stuff. I can do anything I want….” Her mouth twisted. “Anything but ski.”

Her voice broke on the last word. Horrified, she covered it with a cough. She’d only meant to let Alison know that she could handle the truth, but her emotions were right there on the surface. Well, why wouldn’t they be? The long flight, too much sitting still, and under it all, the persistent worry that the surgeon she’d come so far to see wouldn’t help her….

Alison was looking at her as if she didn’t know what to expect next.

Wendy smiled. “You know what?”

“What?” Allie asked cautiously.

“How about we get out of the snow? That terrific haircut’s getting plastered to your head.”

“Yeah. Good idea.” Alison cleared her throat. “So,” she said briskly, “you up for a stop at the Barn?”

“The…?” Wendy looped her free arm through Alison’s. Dipping their heads against the wind, they crossed the roadway and headed for the parking lot. “You mean the Burger Barn? Is it still there?”

Alison clucked in dismay. “Is it still there, she asks. Certainly, it’s still there, only a ten-minute detour on our way to town. Of course, you’re probably not into juicy, charcoal-broiled hamburgers and hot, crisp, salty fries after all these years of gourmet dining in gay Paree, but I thought, if there was the teeniest possibility that you were interested…”

“Gourmet dining?” Wendy laughed. “Not on a teacher’s salary. If I never see another hunk of cheese or sausage, it’ll be too soon.”

“You mean Mademoiselle DuBois was wrong?” Alison unlocked the car door and Wendy tossed her things into the back seat. “I thought it was supposed to be fromage and saucisson —much more exotic sounding.”