“Why?” Libby asked. “Just yesterday, you told me you’d finished up most of the work you needed to do.”
That was true. Things had been tense with Libby since Madeline’s outburst. Madeline had tried more than once to apologize, but Libby would not stay in a room with her long enough to hear it. “I just thought since the Johnsons were going to start coming next week, I might stick around and help out. Is that a problem?”
“No,” Libby said, eyeing her curiously. “It’s just that you’ve made it really clear you don’t want to be here. I thought you were miserable.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Madeline said. “I wasn’t ready—”
“Stay if you want,” Libby interrupted. “This is as much your place as it is mine.” She walked out of the room.
On the other hand, Bree seemed very open to Madeline extending her stay. “I kind of need to stay one more week,” Madeline said when she called. “Could you handle the DiNapoli inspection for me?”
There was a pregnant pause on Bree’s end until she said, “Who is this and what have you done with Madeline?”
“I’ve still got some personal stuff I need to deal with,” Madeline said, and wondered briefly what that even meant anymore. She only knew that she wasn’t ready to give up this thing with Luke quite yet. Whatever this thing was. She’d spent a week working alongside him, watching him build temporary showers as easily as if they were Legos. He had a great sense of humor, he was careful with Libby’s feelings, and most of all, most of all, he made her happy.
She was pretty sure what she was feeling was love. Not infatuation, not lust. Love. Real, true love for the first time in her life. That was the frightening thing.
“Of course I’ll do it,” Bree had said, always eager to get her fingers into the realty business while she studied for her license. “But I can’t close the deal for you.”
“No, no,” Madeline had assured her. “I’ll be back. I’ve worked too hard and too long to sell that place.”
Which is precisely what she repeated to Trudi. She would be back. She had finally sold the DiNapoli property, of course she would be back. “I just need to finish up here,” she said. “No big deal.”
She probably shouldn’t have said that, because Trudi latched onto it instantly. “Really? Because everything is a big deal to you.”
“No it’s not,” Madeline said laughingly.
“Yeah, it is. Who are you kidding? I’m super, super surprised. I mean you couldn’t surprise me more if you told me you were moving there. You’re not going to move there, are you?”
“Of course not!”
“Seriously, you never step out of your bubble. A place for everything and everything in its place—”
“Trudi, okay!”
“What about Stephen?”
Madeline sighed. “What about him?”
“Mad, come on,” Trudi chastised her. “You yourself said he’s been so helpful. He told me that the broker has people who are excited about the property. What more evidence do you need that he really digs you?”
“I didn’t know I was looking for evidence,” Madeline said. But Trudi was right. Because of Stephen, she now had a pretty good ballpark of what the ranch was worth. She knew that the Kendricks had no real legal leg to stand on. And she knew that the broker, who specialized in ranch properties, already had a couple of clients who were interested in the ranch. The man said in a day or two he would have some concrete numbers for her to present to Libby and Emma, and then, of course, Luke. She tried to tell herself that she was giving Luke information he needed—that was, how much he’d need to buy the ranch back. But she was being less than honest with herself.
Just thinking of Luke made Madeline’s face heat. She had lied to him today when he’d asked if there was anything she wanted to tell him. And while Stephen was calling in his friends to help her, she was making love to Luke on the hammock in his mother’s garden, in the Pontiac, in his childhood bed. Madeline Pruett, who Trudi had labeled a Goody Two-shoes, had stepped out of so many bubbles she almost didn’t know herself anymore. She loved Luke. Why was she working so hard to sabotage it?
“I know Stephen is excited for you to come back,” Trudi continued blithely. “He said you guys had a long talk last week.”
Madeline would not have called it a long talk, but they did speak about the DiNapoli sale and what it meant for her career that morning in Denver. There had been lots of “taking over Orlando real estate, rah-rah” talk. “He’s been great,” she agreed weakly.
“Then call him and tell him you’ll be back in another week,” Trudi said.
Madeline looked out the window at the mountains. They looked blue in the late afternoon light. She’d noticed that they changed color throughout the day. Sometimes a gold yellow, sometimes rust, sometimes blue. The mountains were always the same, always different.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” Madeline said.