The Wrong Man. Laura Abbot

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СКАЧАТЬ offer to have Trent join him in his business building luxury homes had been a godsend, and he didn’t want to think about what he and Ashley would’ve done without the company medical insurance when Ashley got sick. But more and more lately, Trent realized he didn’t have the patience for the construction business or the diplomacy to massage the egos of wealthy, demanding clients.

      Was now the time to make a change? Chad Larraby, his best friend since boyhood, needed a partner in order to buy out Swan Mountain Adventures, an outfitter in their hometown of Whitefish that offered seasonal excursions—rafting, hunting, fishing, hiking, backpacking and mountain biking. It was the perfect job opportunity. He and Chad had always made a great team, whether it was pulling off a spectacular high-school prank or combining their scoring talents to win the league basketball championship. There was no one Trent trusted more.

      He pinched his nose, permanently crooked from an opposing center’s elbow. Back then, he and Chad were convinced the world had been invented for pleasure, and they had taken every opportunity to test that belief. Now? Chad was married with a son and a daughter, and both men took fatherhood seriously. Although miles apart, they’d tried to stay in touch, but since Ashley’s death, Trent had especially missed his friend’s ready laugh and common sense. Chad’s was an offer he had to consider. The work would satisfy both his zest for adventure and his need to secure the future.

      But what would a move back to Whitefish—or anywhere for that matter—do to Kylie? Was it fair to uproot her from her grandparents?

      It wasn’t a question of finances. He and Ashley had set aside considerable savings, hoping to buy a house, and Gus had been generous with bonuses. There was also the money from Ashley’s life insurance policy, which he hadn’t been able to bring himself to touch. But if it bought him and Kylie a better future?

      With the palm of his hand he tested the newly sanded shelf, then nodded with satisfaction. Chad’s offer seemed perfect for him.

      Except for one thing.

      If he moved back to the Glacier Park area of Montana, inevitably he would run into Lib. Why subject himself to a past he’d moved beyond?

      Liar! You haven’t moved beyond anything.

      Ever since Chad’s call, Trent could hold back neither his thoughts of Libby nor the powerful emotions those memories churned up. What did philosophers say about first love? You never quite get over it? Trent leaned against the wall, wishing life could be simple. Yet the mental pictures of Libby—her dark, thick ponytail flying behind her as she skimmed over a mogul, her warm body pressed against his, firelight turning her skin to flame—halted him in his tracks. Stop it, Baker. He ran his fingers through his hair. Why was he thinking of Lib? That was in the past and needed to stay there.

      Yet despite his resolve, he had another sudden image of Libby, who nurtured every small creature she met, enfolding his daughter in her arms.

      Jeez, when you lose it, you go all out.

      From the hallway he heard Gus call his name.

      “Coming,” he said, gathering up his tools. Even if he couldn’t picture himself as a career home builder, did he dare leave a secure job? Move Kylie? Bet on a future that held a great deal of promise but no guarantees? The alternative was spending a lifetime doing work he didn’t enjoy. The last thing Kylie needed was an unhappy father.

      At Gus’s direction, he moved to the dining room to install wainscoting. Yet as he worked, his thoughts were a million miles away.

      Chad needed an answer. Soon. Trent could rationalize all he wanted, but the truth reverberated with every blow of his hammer. His decision was a resounding “Yes!”

      BY THE END OF THE DAY, Kirby Bell had mastered addition of two-digit numbers, Heather Amundsen had gum snarled in her hair, and Josh Jacobs had upchucked his lunch. Libby had a kink in her back from helping little feet into boots, but as the last second-grader left the room, throwing his chubby arms around her waist in a fleeting hug, she smiled with satisfaction and relief.

      Straightening the rows of desks, she relished the smells of glue, markers and modeling clay that lingered in the classroom. Almost daily she thanked her lucky stars that she had found the work she was born to do and that it paid enough for her to live simply and comfortably in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

      In preparation for the upcoming visit from master storyteller Louise Running Wolf McCann, Libby removed the photographs of plants of the Northwest from the bulletin board, replacing them with those of indigenous animals. “Weezer,” as the Blackfoot woman was known to generations of Whitefish children, would share Native American animal legends with the class.

      Returning to her desk, Libby gathered the day’s worksheets. She frowned when she noticed that little Rory Polk had left half the answers on his reading sheet blank. Bless his heart, he tried so hard to hide, burrowing into his desk and making himself even smaller, hoping to escape observation. Libby couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that something might be wrong at home.

      A glance at her watch told her it was time to meet Lois Jeter, her best friend and colleague, in the office if she wanted a ride to the garage.

      She hurried down the hall, noting with pleasure the red and green links of construction paper making a merry border for various holiday art projects. Mary Travers stood outside the office, her hands resting on the shoulders of a scrawny fourth-grader. “Jeffrey, we’ve talked before about snowballs. Are we going to have to have another conversation?”

      The boy hung his head. “No, ma’am.”

      “Good. I know throwing snowballs is fun, but it can also be dangerous, especially with so many little ones in the area.”

      Libby watched Mary turn the boy around, pat his back and send him on his way. The principal, a short, bouncy woman with youthful skin and salt-and-pepper hair drawn back into a simple chignon, ran a tight but loving ship and was universally respected.

      Libby approached her. “That went well.”

      Smiling, Mary shook her head. “Boys. It’s so hard for them to resist temptation.” She accompanied Libby to the office. “How was your day?”

      “Almost perfect. Just like all of them.”

      “You can say that even after the Josh Jacobs caper?”

      “That goes with the territory. Poor little guy. He was so embarrassed.”

      Mary’s voice lowered. “We couldn’t reach his mother until just before school was out.”

      “Let me guess. She was irritated he was sick?”

      “That would be an understatement. Some people should simply never have children.”

      Libby winced. Why were people like Mrs. Jacobs given the gift of children when she wasn’t? Quickly, she controlled her emotions. “That’s one reason we’re here. To pick up the pieces.”

      “Lib,” a voice rang from down the hallway. “I’ll be right there.” Redheaded Lois Jeter, the physical education teacher, scrambled into her all-weather coat and hurried toward them. “Sorry, the gym was a disaster area today. I just now got the mats hung up.”

      “We really appreciate you,” Libby assured her with a grin. “On these wintry СКАЧАТЬ