Despite being unoccupied most of the time, the house was spotless. His weekly housekeeping service made sure there was never dust. Surfaces gleamed. The creamy marble kitchen countertops were an elegant contrast to the handsome split-log walls. During the day, the huge windows in the great room brought the rugged Montana landscape in. This afternoon, the Gallatin Range, dominated by Copper Mountain, had been blanketed in white, but now all beyond his window was dark.
He liked this house. He wanted to love it. He didn’t. At least, not yet. One day maybe he would.
Maybe when he was done playing ball he could live here and make it a real home. He wasn’t ready to give up ball, though. He’d had a great season last year and he felt strong, and healthy, and more players were playing longer. Why couldn’t he?
He’d loved baseball since he was a little kid, and he’d wanted to play professionally for as long as he could remember. When he was finally drafted out of University of Washington where he’d gone on a full sports scholarship, he’d vowed to be the best professional baseball player possible, and he’d honored that vow by training hard, getting rest, avoiding the party scene, as well as the groupies.
He was a monogamist, and when the single guys flirted with women in the hotel lobby, he headed up to his room, and called Alice. Before Alice, he’d been with Heather for four years, and before Heather, it had been Dominique for two.
Unlike his brother Rory, who’d always been a tortured lone wolf, Quinn valued the pack. Quinn wanted his own partner, and he looked forward to children, and he was ready for children… babies. At thirty-seven, he was mature and financially sound, and the only reason he wasn’t a dad already was that he hadn’t found the right woman.
Leaning on the marble island, his gaze swept the rich wood kitchen cabinetry and the long wood table and chairs in the adjacent dining room. The table seated twelve comfortably. Clearly, when he built this house, he hadn’t planned on being single so long.
Once again his thoughts returned to Charity and then he gave his head a shake, stopping himself from going there.
She wasn’t ready, and he still had ball. How could he pursue her from Seattle? How could he prove to her he was the right one when he lived so far away? The logistics were problematic. She loved Marietta. She’d made that clear. Could he convince her to come out and visit him in Seattle? Or was it just too much, too soon?
*
It was a cold blustery morning and Charity arrived at Main Street Diner with her teeth chattering, desperate for that first hot cup of coffee.
There were five of them at the meeting and the mood was mostly buoyant as nearly all of the tickets had been sold and they spent their hour together ironing out final details and making sure they had sufficient silent auction items. Everyone agreed to try to round up one to two more silent auction items each, and then Sadie Douglas the cochair for this year’s auction discussed the dinner and dancing portion, before Risa Scott, the other cochair discussed the setup and decorations, and then the meeting was over.
It was refreshing to leave Main Street Diner feeling good about the event, and everything they’d accomplished to even reach this point, especially considering the auction was still a new thing in Marietta. The Christmas Tree Gala, Mistletoe and Montana, used to be a Livingston event but when Marietta’s Graff Hotel proved to be a better venue, Marietta embraced the fund-raiser and it had become even more successful. This year, Gallagher Tree Farm was the event’s biggest sponsor, and their early donation had made planning and execution so much easier.
Charity returned to her car, and drove to the small parking lot behind her office building. As she walked around to the front entrance on Main, she spotted a big golden retriever walking down the street. The dog’s head and tail drooped. Periodically the dog would stop, and sniff a patch of snow, and then continue on.
She stopped to watch him, wondering if he was looking for food or trying to track his human. She hoped he wasn’t lost, or abandoned. It was unusual to see dogs loose on Main Street. In fact, the city would have someone out to take him to an animal shelter if he lingered downtown too long.
She watched a moment longer before going into the office. Sam was already there before her, at work at his desk. She checked the coffeepot. Coffee was brewing. She stuck her head into Sam’s office and asked if he needed anything.
“No, I’m good,” he answered. “Just as an FYI, I have some people flying in from San Francisco, interested in buying property in Paradise Valley. They land mid morning and I’ll be picking them up and then expect to be out of the office the rest of the day.”
“Do you have some good leads to show them?”
“Actually, no. There is nothing on the market right now that exactly meets their needs. They don’t really want acreage. They want a big house on Yellowstone River with a dynamite view of the Gallatin’s.” He paused and gave her a meaningful look. “Like Quinn Douglas’s place. I don’t suppose he’d want to sell it?”
“We’ve never talked about his house,” she answered.
“He spent a fortune on it and yet he’s maybe stayed there a half-dozen times.”
She shrugged. “It’s his house.”
“Yeah, but it’s a lot of money—millions of dollars—and he doesn’t seem to really enjoy it. I’m tempted to follow up with him about his place. Actually, I’m tempted to just send you to talk to him about selling it.”
“Send me where? To Seattle?”
“As of this morning, Quinn’s still in town.”
“Maybe for coffee, but he’s flying out of Bozeman this morning.”
“He was. There’s been an accident over at the Gallagher Tree Farm and I’ve been told he’s gone there to help.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know that yet.”
Charity went to her desk and turned her computer on but couldn’t focus on her email inbox. What happened at the Gallaghers? Who’d been hurt?
She glanced at her watch. It was only just eight now. Whatever happened, happened early. She sat there stewing, and was still stewing when she looked up and spotted the golden retriever outside in front of the real estate office.
He looked forlorn. Her heart went out to him.
Charity left her desk and returned to Sam’s office. He was on the phone but he held his finger up, signaling he wanted her to wait. She did. He finished the call a few moments later.
“That was my sister, Kerry,” he said. “Sawyer is being prepped for surgery now. His leg looked pretty bad. Jenna, Sawyer’s wife is with him.”
Kerry was a nurse that worked part-time at Marietta Medical so she’d have accurate information. “At least Jenna is there with him.”
“Jenna is having problems, though. She’s having contractions. They’re discussing admitting her because they don’t want the baby to arrive just yet.”
“Oh, no!”
“Thankfully Quinn is over at the Gallagher’s place now. He got there before the ambulance arrived and helped Jenna extract Sawyer from the baler.”
“That’s how he got hurt?”
“One of Sawyer’s guys wasn’t paying attention and Sawyer stepped in, saving him.”
“Only now Sawyer’s hurt,” she said in a small voice.
“I have to think he’s going to be off of his feet for the next few weeks.”
“They can’t afford to operate without him. It’s a family business.”
“There is good news, though.”
“Oh?”
“Looks like your Quinn Douglas will be sticking around now.”
Charity rolled her eyes and started for her desk, glancing out the big glass window to the street, and there out front was the golden retriever, sitting on the curb, head cocked.
The dog!
She returned to Sam’s office door for a third time. “Sorry. I knew there was something I wanted to ask you. Do you know anyone with a golden retriever?”
He’d started to make another call and he briefly glanced up from hi
s phone. “Some of the folks near me have Labs, a chocolate Lab and a blonde Lab. But I don’t know anyone with a retriever. Why?”
“There’s a beautiful one outside. He’s been on the street ever since I arrived.”
“Somebody will claim him.”
“I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“He won’t.”
“I’ll see if he has a collar on, or any tags. Maybe there is someone I can call.”
She grabbed her coat and stuffed her arms into the sleeves before stepping outside. But just as she approached the dog, a car pulled into the empty parking spot out front and honked the horn, loudly, scaring the dog away.
It was Greg. Of course.
She shook her head, disgusted. Why honk at the dog? What purpose was there in doing such a thing?
Charity ignored Greg as he entered the real estate office, focusing instead on getting through her emails. But Greg stopped at her desk, and just stood there without saying a word, and continued to stand there, staring down at her in silence, for at least a minute.