Snow Falls

chapter Thirty-Two



“You brought wine?” Cheryl asked with a grin. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I know it’s a bottle you enjoy,” Jen said. “And I may need it,” she added.

“Oh? What’s up?”

Jen shrugged. “Just need to talk.”

Cheryl nodded. “That’s what friends are for. Why don’t we go ahead and open it?” she said as she took out two wineglasses. “Turn the TV off for me, would you? I was watching the news earlier.”

Jen walked around the bar, finding the remote next to Cheryl’s recliner. Just as she was about to click it off, her eyes were drawn to the TV. She nearly dropped the remote as she fumbled with the sound.

“Catherine Ryan-Barrett made a rare public appearance, caught here chatting with her brother, Charles. Unlike the rest of the family, Catherine shuns the limelight, usually only appearing at her grandmother’s annual charity event. Her mother, Vanessa, was seen...”

“Dear God,” she murmured. “I can’t believe it.”

“What is it?” Cheryl asked, glancing at the TV. “Oh. The rich pretending to be concerned with a cause. I can’t stand her.”

“Who?”

“Vanessa Ryan-Barrett. The mother. She’s so full of herself. Thinks she’s a celebrity or something.”

Jen clicked the TV off, turning to Cheryl. “It’s...it’s her.”

“Who?”

“Ryan. It’s...Ryan.”

“What are you talking about? Your Ryan?”

“Yes. Catherine,” she said, the name sounding strange to her.

“The daughter? Catherine? She’s the one who rescued you?”

“Yes.” Jen looked around. “Where’s your laptop?”

“Over there. Why?”

“Because I don’t even know who she is,” she said quickly.

“The Ryan-Barrett family owns the R&B hotel chain. They also own a casino, I think.” Cheryl stared at her. “You’re a writer. How can you not know about Catherine Ryan-Barrett?”

“I just don’t,” she said as she pulled up Google. She scanned the page, trying to decide on which link to click on when she saw the word Pulitzer. “Seriously? A Pulitzer?” She clicked on it, then glanced at Cheryl. “What do you know about her?”

Cheryl brought over a wineglass for her, then sat down beside her. “Oh, there was some scandal about her Pulitzer. It’s been a number of years ago now.”

“Ten,” Jen said as she read the article. “Dancing on the Moon. She wrote it under a pseudonym. M.P. Turner.”

“That’s right. After it won a Pulitzer, her publisher leaked her real name.”

“And the book lost credibility immediately,” Jen said, quoting what she read. “Ryan-Barrett denied allegations that a ghostwriter penned the book, as did her publisher.”

“They made a fortune on the book what with all the publicity,” Cheryl said. “I would have never read it otherwise. I’m glad I did. It was very well written.”

Jen slammed the laptop closed and stared at Cheryl. “She’s a writer.”

Cheryl looked at her quizzically. “Yes. That’s what we’ve been talking about.”

“No. I mean, she’s a writer. A real writer.” She stood, angry now. “And she didn’t tell me. I’m going on and on about my silly little self-help books and she’s a writer,” she finished loudly.

“They’re not silly,” Cheryl insisted. “And I’m not saying that just because I work for your publisher,” she said with a grin.

“She probably thought I was an idiot.” She shook her head. “She won a Pulitzer, for God’s sake. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“I don’t know. You said the woman you met was a recluse. From all accounts, Catherine is very reclusive. And she didn’t tell you her real name. I’m assuming she didn’t want you to know about that part of her life.”

Jen just stared at her, finally blurting out, “I slept with her.”

Cheryl nearly spit out her wine. “What? When?”

Jen sat down again, her hands shaking as she took a large sip of wine. “Wednesday night. She showed up at my house.”

“And you...you slept with her? Like had sex?”

“Yes like had sex,” Jen snapped. “I’m such a fool.”

“You’re not a fool. You didn’t know who she was.”

“Why would she do that? Why would she come to my house and...God, it was so special, Cheryl. At least for me. Apparently not for her.” Jen turned away. “She left before I woke up. Left me a note. She just said she was sorry, and she hoped I didn’t hate her.”

“Did she mean like now, when you found out who she was?”

“I don’t think so. I think she meant for,” Jen smiled, “taking my virtue. That and for leaving. I don’t think she anticipated me finding out who she was.” Jen blew out her breath. “I don’t care who she is. I don’t even know who she is.”

“Are you in love with her?” Cheryl asked gently.

“I feel something, yes,” Jen admitted. And making love with Ryan, the way Ryan looked at her, she would have sworn Ryan felt something too. Maybe that was why she ran.

“What are you going to do?”

Yes, what was she going to do? Call Morgan? Drive back up to the mountains? But what if Ryan didn’t want to see her? What if all she wanted...was what Jen had already given her?

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”