“I don’t think you get to dictate that.” Win lifted her chin. “This isn’t a monarchy. You aren’t king. You don’t get to call the shots.”
Boone stepped forward. “You’re standing on my wife’s ranch, no matter who owns the title at the moment. Riley’s pregnant. This is her home!” He caught himself, visibly bringing himself back under control, and Win realized what this confrontation was really about. Her heart went out to him.
“Riley is past three months. Your baby is safe, Boone. Everything’s going to be okay this time.”
He looked away, and she knew her words had hit home. A muscle worked in his jaw. He was terrified, wasn’t he, Win thought. Terrified Riley would miscarry again. Afraid what might happen if they lost Westfield.
“I’m going to marry Angus, and I’m going to stay no matter what,” she told him firmly. “I swear to God.”
“Then give him his thirty days.”
Boone left, and Win, too restless to get anymore work done, returned to the bunkhouse, the camera crew trailing her. Unnerved by the idea of spending an afternoon alone with them, she ended up shadowing Avery, helping her with the animals and then heading up to the manor when she was finally done.
“I’m supposed to meet with Eve and Renata to talk about our movie production company,” Avery said. “Renata has convinced Fulsom to hire us to do a retrospective about Base Camp to run after the series is over. You could join us if you like.”
“I’m not really interested in making movies, but thanks for the invitation.”
Win wasn’t sure what to do with her unexpected slice of free time. In the past, she’d spent every spare moment with Angus. She knew Avery, Savannah, Riley and Nora had initially come to Westfield to dedicate six months to pursuing their dreams of a creative life, but all that had been pushed aside during the filming of Base Camp. There was too much to do to meet Fulsom’s goals to spend much time doing anything else.
Besides, she wasn’t musical like Savannah, who practiced on the grand piano in the front parlor, or a painter like Riley, who sometimes set up her easel there as well. Nora met weekly with Sue Norton, Walker’s grandmother, to work on the history curriculum they were developing together. They usually chose one of the guest rooms to work in when they were empty.
Win wandered into the large empty ballroom, where they hosted wedding receptions and other gatherings. What did she like to do? It occurred to her that too much of her life had been shaped by her parents’ interests rather than her own.
She’d learned to knit at some point, she recalled. She’d never really gotten into it, but she liked the feel of the yarn between her fingers. Which made sense—she was the granddaughter of a textile magnate, after all.
Textiles.
Another memory surfaced. A happy one, for once.
Win had loved her grandfather, who’d died when she was quite young. Once, he’d found her drawing with crayons in the nursery and smiled when she gave him her picture, something with bright flowers, a buzzing bee and a big yellow sun.
“For you!” she’d crowed.
“For me?” He’d been equally thrilled, or so she’d imagined back then. Now she realized how kind he’d been. No one except for Rosa ever noticed her drawings.
That might have been the end of it in any other family, but weeks later her grandfather returned, a present in hand.
“It’s not her birthday,” she remembered Vienna saying.
“Every day ought to be special for our little princess, don’t you think?” he’d answered. “Open it, Win.”
She had, to find a set of sheets for her bed, printed with the design from her drawing.
“We’re making it part of our spring line for children,” he told Vienna. “Someday you’ll be lead designer at Manners Corporation, young lady.” He scooped up Win and gave her a kiss.
The memory stopped her in her tracks. Her grandfather had died later that year. Later, Vienna hadn’t encouraged her to take any part in the business. Or to pursue a career in design.
She’d gone to Stanford. Pursued a business degree, of course. A useless degree, until the last five months, when Vienna must have decided involving her in Manners Corp was the only way to keep her from running back to Base Camp.
She didn’t need a design degree now, either, Win told herself. Just a creative project to play around with during times like these.
A trip to town was in order.
She checked in with the others to see if anyone else needed anything, hoping someone might ask to come along, but no one did, so she screwed up her courage, walked back to the bunkhouse, collected a set of keys and kept going to the parking area behind it. She’d grown used to the large community trucks in the summer and was just congratulating herself on getting away without attracting the notice of a camera crew when Chris, one of the oldest crew members, hurried toward her.
“Wait up!” He was trailed by several other men, and Win sighed. So much for getting away. “Where are we off to?” he asked as they all climbed in with her.
“Town. The craft store. It’s going to be pretty boring.” She hoped they’d leave, but to her chagrin they settled in and got seat belts on. She started the truck.
“It’s got to be hard knowing Angus is with another woman, huh?” Chris asked, pointing his video camera at her face as she turned in the parking area and made for the road.
Win kept her eyes forward. “It’s not ideal,” she admitted. She spent the rest of the drive
