had died on his watch.
Jason put on his sunglasses, adjusted the brim of his cap and started moving.
“I’m about fifteen minutes away from the clearing up by Solitude Lake. You can land the chopper there. Come get me. You can drop me at the trailhead, and I’ll track the kid from there.”
“Will do.”
He slipped his search and rescue vest on over his T-shirt and doubled his speed. “Hunt, out.”
Nine months later... The Midas Lodge outside Jackson, Wyoming
“Samantha, what are you doing?”
Wishing I was anywhere else.
Hearing her father’s tsk-tsking tone above the white noise of conversations, laughter and chamber music drifting in from the reception area of the Midas Lodge’s main lobby, Samantha Eddington bit down on the ungrateful thought and stretched up on her toes on the arm of the leather chair she’d pulled from the neighboring window alcove. She closed the back of the mantel clock and screwed the casing shut with her thumbnail before pushing it back into place over the two-story stone fireplace. “Hi, Dad. It stopped at four twenty this afternoon. Fortunately, it was just the batteries.” She showed him the oxidized rust stains on the paper napkin wadded up in her hand. “I cleaned them and put them back in, but they won’t last for long. We’ll need a new set.”
Walter Eddington had the build and face of a bulldog, an ironic contrast to the expensive tailored suit and diamond-studded lapel pin he wore. A self-made man who’d served in the Army before Samantha was born, he was as at home in the backcountry with a hunting rifle as he was in the boardroom of the hotel empire he’d purchased on a dare and built into a fortune over the past thirty-five years. Too bad she hadn’t inherited either of those skill sets. She didn’t share his love for a good party, either, like tonight’s shindig that mixed hotel with family business.
But she did love him. Adored him, in fact. After losing her mother when she was seven, they’d become a team—sharing grief and comfort, and helping each other pick up the pieces of their fractured lives. She’d never quite been the tomboy he wanted, nor was she poised enough to serve as the dutiful hostess and helpmate a businessman of his standing needed. And while she understood the numbers and demographics of the lodging and tourism industry, she’d never shared his interest in running a corporation. She loved analyzing the architectural designs and engineering strategies that went into building hotels and resort lodges, but her intellectual acumen and aversion to board meetings, press conferences, and parties like tonight’s grand opening celebration with investors and local bigwigs kept her from being the heir he’d hoped for to take over the Midas Group and run the family business one day. Still, Walter Eddington loved her anyway. He was her daddy, the first man she’d loved. And even at twenty-nine, she was his little girl.
“Come down from there.” He held out his broad, calloused hand. She took it and smiled as he helped her down from her perch. He dropped a kiss to her cheek, just below the rim of her glasses. “This is supposed to be your party. I realize we’re combining business with pleasure by scheduling the grand opening of the new lodge with your engagement announcement to Kyle. But you know how much I want to change the press’s perception of you as some kind of eccentric recluse who never recovered from your mother’s murder. Hiding out from our guests doesn’t help change that image.”
“I’m not a recluse. My mind just gets occupied with other things.” Too many other things. Like the guilt she felt at putting that worry dimple between his silvering eyebrows.
“I know that,” he assured her. “But the last time your picture was on TV and in all the papers, you were only seven. You were so brave. So sad.” He captured both hands and backed up to skim his gaze from the loose bun at the nape of her neck to the unpolished wiggle of her bare toes on the woven throw rug in front of the fireplace. He smiled. “You look pretty tonight. All grown up. A woman of the world.”
His eyes, the same shade of green as her own, turned wistful. He was losing himself in the past until Samantha squeezed his hands, bringing him back into the present with her. “I miss Mom, too. Tonight of all nights, especially.”
Walter nodded, pulling her into his barrel chest and capturing her in one of the bear hugs she’d always loved before he set her back on her feet. He chucked her lightly beneath the chin. “I know you take after my side of the family, but...” He brushed aside a rebellious lock of dark blond hair that had caught in her glasses and tucked it behind her ear. “I see your mother in you tonight. How I wish Michelle could be here to share this with us.”
Samantha reached up to straighten the knot of his tie and smooth his lapels, the tender ministrations more of a comfort than a need. “Me, too.”
“It’s been twenty-two years tonight since that bastard murdered...” Muttering a curse, he blinked away the moisture that glistened in his eyes and pulled something from his pocket. “I want to show you something.”
Samantha lit up when she saw the familiar engraved locket on a silver chain that dangled from his fingers. “Mom’s necklace. The one you gave her when you got married.”
“It’ll be yours one day. But tonight, I’m carrying it for luck. That everything goes smoothly, and that Kyle makes you as happy as she and I were. Even if it was for too short a time. I wanted you to know she’s with us.”
She rubbed her fingertips across the locket’s etched surface the way she had as a curious child when it had hung around her mother’s neck. Then Walter drew it up to his lips and kissed the heirloom before tucking it back into his pocket. “Don’t tell Joyce.”
“Don’t tell Joyce what?” Samantha’s stepmother appeared behind her father in a swish of pale pink satin. “The party’s in the other room, you two.” She pointed to the lobby behind them. “Where all the guests are.”
With a wink that said he’d cover for Samantha, Walter caught his second wife’s hand and kissed her fingers before linking her arm through his. “You’ll need to speak to the staging crew, dear. Sammie had to repair this clock. It wasn’t working. You know I love the beautiful things you selected to decorate the new lodge. But I expect things to do their job, too.”
“Of course I will, dear,” Joyce assured him. “I want everything to be perfect tonight.”
“I opened it up and cleaned the batteries,” Samantha explained.
“Cleaned them with what?” She suspected her stepmother was frowning, although her face revealed little evidence of emotion, one way or another. When Samantha showed her the dirty cocktail napkin, Joyce snatched it from her hand and tossed it into the fireplace.
Unlike Samantha, Joyce knew how to work a room and make a business deal as well as Walter did. His successes were hers and vice versa. Samantha had never quite fit into the family equation the same way after her father had remarried and adopted Joyce’s daughter, Taylor. “You are the guest of honor, not maintenance personnel. Are you forgetting that I told the press photographers to be in position at eight? After your father gives his welcoming speech, Kyle will go down on one knee and propose. Just like we rehearsed.”
Because nothing says romance like a staged proposal. Samantha scratched at the rash itching beneath the stays of her dress. True, she’d been seeing
