Wrap-around porch. Pine-green tin roof. Log cabin style. Multiple stone chimneys.
Outbuildings, several of them.
It was like I drove two hours out of Phoenix and found myself on the set of the Yellowstone series.
But with better scenery.
As Rodney got out, my stomach pitched, not with nerves, but with fury.
Why did Corey, as one of his last wishes, decide to put me through this?
Seriously.
I pushed open my own door and folded out, just as Rodney got to my side.
“Can you get the box, do you mind?” I asked him.
“Of course, Ms. Swan.”
I nodded. Smiled.
And braced.
I looked up the steps.
As the years passed, I tried not to pay attention. He wasn’t like Corey. Me. You couldn’t escape Corey or me.
But he looked how he looked. And he did what he did.
Therefore, he was in the public eye and he got photographed.
And I figured he lived up here in the middle of nowhere to do what he could to avoid it.
Duncan “Bowie” William Holloway, founder and CEO of River Rain Outdoor stores. Where you go for your every outdoor need.
Duncan William Holloway, ardent environmentalist, giving and raising millions to save any and every species, our wetlands, our rain forests, anything from fracking. You name it, he was on the front lines to save it.
Bowie was and always would, in some way, be the hero.
Except to me.
And there he was, standing at the top of the steps, wearing jeans. A lighter-colored denim shirt. A down vest over it.
Dark hair too long, messy.
Legs long and shoulders broad.
Features that were a jumble of perfect and imperfect, making them extraordinary.
Hawk nose.
Perfectly angled cheekbones.
Small eyes, but they were hooded.
Square jaw, almost always covered in stubble or a beard.
Like now.
A beard.
He seemed bigger than before.
Younger, he’d had the long, lithe, muscled body of a linebacker.
Now, he looked like a heavyweight boxer.
But of course.
Of course Duncan would only get better.
There was a woman beside him. Diminutive. Casual dress. Older than him.
She was practically wringing her hands as she stared down at me.
By the look of her, the age of her, she was a Rita’s Way fan.
Maybe All Roads Lead Here.
But more likely a fan of Imogen Swan, the actor who played Bonnie in the insanely popular, award-winning, critically acclaimed television series Rita’s Way.
If they didn’t have the Rachel cut, back in the day, they had the Bonnie.
In that show, my love interest Devon and I were both the standouts. And fortunately, the veteran actors were cool about it.
Devon and Bonnie, finding their way through young love, committed to each other through thick and thin. The thin being Bonnie coming up pregnant, so they discussed it, at politically correct length, with a good deal of angst, and in the end, decided to keep the baby and get married. More thin when young Devon fought cancer.
Poor Bonnie and Devon didn’t have a lot of thick. They lived mostly through thin.
And the American people (and eventually those around the world) rooted for them the entire way.
Nine seasons.
We should have stopped at seven.
But by the end, the residuals meant my children’s children were not going to have to worry about anything monetary.
So there was that.
I looked from the woman back to Bowie.
He was staring down at me, hands on hips, face registering no emotion.
Not surprising, it had been a long time since he blew us apart.
Sadly, I could not say I felt no emotion being there, seeing his home, him.
Fortunately, I was an award-winning actress, so I was pretty certain I was hiding it.
Rodney returned to my side, holding the heavy box that Corey’s lawyers had been instructed to give to me. It was sealed. And it was not meant to be opened unless both myself and Bowie were present.
Only Bowie and myself.
I’d had my assistant Mary make the arrangements. I had no idea if he’d balked and had to be talked around.
I just knew I was now right there.
Rodney and I walked up the steps.
“Duncan.”
“Imogen.”
Well then.
Right away, I knew.
All these years, and he could still cut me.
Even just that took a slice.
He never called me Imogen.
Gen.
Genny.
Beautiful, gorgeous, babe, baby, darlin’, sweetheart…
Love of my life.
Never Imogen.
“Before Bettina loses her mind,” he went on and shifted slightly, taking a hand from a hip to indicate the woman beside him. “This is Bettina. She takes care of the place.” Hesitation. “And she’s a big fan.”
It wasn’t snide, that last bit.
Not overtly.
It was still mocking.
It said Bettina was a big fan, but he was absolutely not.
I turned to the woman and offered my hand. “Bettina. Lovely to meet you.”
She took it, that familiar light shining in her gaze. Excitement. Open indication that in shaking the hand of a perfectly normal individual, she could not believe her luck.
“Sad circumstances,” she said, her voice trembling, probably with nerves. “But it truly is an honor to meet you.”
“That’s very sweet,” I replied.