Home to Laura

chapter TWENTY-FOUR



THE GRAND OPENING of the Accord Golf and Cross-country Ski Resort was held on a sunny, perfect day in September.

Nick held baby Pearl in his arms. Laura tried to take her, but he shooed her away.

There was a bond between Nick and his baby daughter that he had missed the first time around. He planned to miss nothing this time. He would be there for every first—her first word (he was angling for Daddy and repeated it umpteen times a day), first solid food, first step.

The new clubhouse sparkled like a diamond in a setting of emerald trees. The air swam with the scent of meat on the grill.

All of Accord had come out. Mort showed the investors around, with pride in his every step.

Nick’s brothers and their wives were here.

Gabe and Tyler stood beside him admiring the resort, both with growing babies in their arms.

“You did a good job, bro.” Ty nodded his approval.

“Thanks for not carving up my mountain,” Gabe said.

In the end, Nick had respected Gabe’s wishes and hadn’t carved ski runs out of the mountain.

Visitors could hike or climb it, but it wouldn’t be desecrated.

They could cross-country ski in the winter and golf in the summer. Shuttle buses would take them to Gabe’s dogsledding in the winter. In the summer, visitors could watch archaeology students as they conducted ongoing digs. If they were very careful, after copious instruction, they could even participate in a dig.

Nick was going to run the resort. He’d have his wife and children to fill his nonworking hours, including entertaining his wife in the new bedroom they’d designed for the new house they were having built.

He wandered to the clearing, where Salem’s Cathedral (his and Emily’s nickname for the Native American Heritage Center) showcased every artifact found on the land. There was so much more digging to do, but they were taking it slowly so they wouldn’t destroy anything.

One resurrected skeleton, a young female, had been lovingly carried to a small cemetery created on a portion of Ron Porter’s land that Nick had bought. She had been buried with a moving ancient ceremony. Nick had attended, loving the reverence and the sense of peace that settled over him. A simple message, Peace, written in Salem’s native Ute, had been carved into a small headstone that Nick had paid for. Before burial, DNA samples had been taken, in case local Utes wanted to determine whether this might have been an ancestor of theirs.

“Dad.” Nick turned and grinned. Emily flew toward him on legs getting longer by the second. She was growing into them. One day soon she would be a woman and gone. She was thirteen now. These days, he treasured every second of their time together.

“Em,” Pearl squealed and Emily grinned from ear to ear.

She nuzzled Pearl’s neck and got a big smile for her efforts.

“Hey,” Nick said, “she hasn’t smiled at me yet today. Besides, her first word was supposed to be Daddy, not Em.” He frowned in mock disapproval.

“That’s because you’re not her favorite sister.”

“So? I’m her favorite dad.”

“You’re my favorite dad.” Emily kissed his cheek. “The best.”

Before he teared up and disgraced himself by crying, he said, “What do you think of the cathedral?”

“I love it!” She ran ahead of him. “Salem’s going to give me a tour. I have to go. See you later!” Emily seemed to be running everywhere these days—to school, to violin lessons, to gymnastics—but that was okay. She always had a smile on her face and it warmed Nick’s heart to see her so happy.

Salem and Nick’s architect had fashioned a three-story glass house with minimal brushed steel for support.

Once inside, Nick felt like a part of nature while embraced by the modern architecture of wood, glass and muted steel.

Every wall was glass, including the display cases and Salem’s office.

Artifacts were lovingly tucked into corners with rounded edges that cradled them. As it turned out, Salem had an artist’s eye and ability and all signs were painted by his hand in English and in his native Ute.

The gentle flow of paths and stairways was a testament to his old soul. Nick didn’t know what had happened in the boy’s life, but it had shaped him into a wise, but sad youth. Nick had no idea what more he could do for Salem. He’d given him a career, a beautiful home for his treasured history and a free hand in running the museum.

The only one who consistently brought a smile to Salem’s face was Emily. Good. The kid needed it.

Laura stood beside him. “It’s breathtaking.”

“Yes. Mike and Salem did a good job.”

“More than good. Stunning.”

Nick stared down at his wife. She was pregnant again, just barely. They weren’t wasting any time.

He remembered when he’d stood in his office that day that Mort had stormed in. He’d thought his work was the only real thing in his life. He’d been so wrong.

He’d learned about depth of love from Emily.

His love for Laura and Pearl was real and deep and everlasting. His life in Accord was more real than ever before.

He was no longer that invisible poor Jordan boy. Nor was he the arrogant businessman who had to flaunt his worth.

His wife looked up at him, her smile sexy and promising, and he wished they were alone.

“Stop doing that,” Nick said.

“What?”

“Making me love you.”

Laura grinned as she moved close for his kiss. “Not a chance.”

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