Second Chances: A Small Town Love Story Read online

  "Shaping up that way. I'm submitting offers for two clients and have a listing presentation tonight."

  Charlotte was already dressed in a designer pantsuit, her dark hair perfectly blown out. Both women looked up when the doorbell chimed. "Expecting someone this early?" Megan asked. "No," Charlotte replied and strode out to the entry hallway. "It's for you," she yelled. Megan's heart jumped into her throat and she looked down at the jeans she had been wearing for the past three days.

  Dammit, she cursed. Part of her wanted Alex to show up at the door and throw a hail Mary to win her back. But she wasn't going to be any competition for a pregnant twenty-something mistress if she looked like she lived under a bridge.

  "Um. I. Ah, just a second," she yelled and sprinted out of the kitchen and up the stairs before her visitor could see her.

  She frantically looked around the guest room, her sweatpants were strewn over a chair and a pile of old t-shirts had spilled over the side of her suitcase. "Shit," she muttered. She opened the door, glancing left and right down the hallway before speed walking to Charlotte's room. She flung open the double doors of Charlotte's closet and pulled one of her casual shift dresses from a hanger. She stepped out of her old jeans and pulled her sweatshirt off, leaving them in a pile on the floor and shimmied into the dress. Charlotte was a size smaller than Megan, but the dress slid on a little easier than it should have. The benefits of losing your appetite, she thought as she smoothed her hands down her hips. She pulled her light brown hair back and twisted it into a loose bun on the top of her head. Charlotte's lipstick was still sitting on her makeup vanity and she quickly applied it to her heart-shaped lips. Satisfied with her reflection, she walked as calmly as she could down the curved staircase and followed the voices to the front sitting room. Her heart was pounding against the expensive silk fabric as she rounded the corner. What was she going to say to Alex? Would she forgive him, take him back? Would she make him grovel, make him jump through hoops?

  Her heart sank. Instead of Alex's balding head turning to face her, it was the silver-haired chignon of Margot Meyer. Charlotte gave Megan a puzzled look and then shook her head.

  "Have a seat dear." Margot gestured to the sofa across from her and Charlotte. "I have some bad news."

  Megan nodded and sat down gingerly, Charlotte's dress slippery against the fabric of the sofa. She clasped her hands together around her knees. "What is it?"

  Margot opened her briefcase and pulled out a notebook. "Things aren't progressing the way I had anticipated."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just tell her," Charlotte whispered.

  Margot took a deep breath. "Your ex-husband is a sneaky man."

  When she heard the words ex-husband, Megan felt like she had been punched in the gut. "Sneaky?"

  "Or smart. Actually, let's call a spade a spade, Mr. Snellton is a snake. A sneaky, smart, snake. I think that I can help you, Megan. But it's going to take some time and, um, creativity."

  Megan's brain was racing to catch up. She had gone from imagining a movie worthy reconciliation to trying to piece together the cryptic clues her attorney and best friend were throwing at her.

  "Will you two stop pussy-footing around and tell me what the hell is going on?"

  Margot jerked her head back. "Atta girl. That's the attitude we need." She smiled, her perfect white teeth practically glowing from behind her blood red lips. "You're broke."

  "I know that. I just have to wait for the settlement."

  "There's no money left. Alex is broke."

  "That's impossible, I do the books, I know exactly how much money comes in and goes out. We've been saving for our kid's college education, for our retirement. We're not wealthy, but we're definitely not broke."

  "I've seen this happen before," Margot folded her hands on top of her notebook. "That ex-husband of yours has either blown your life savings, or he has hidden them."

  Megan’s head bobbed forward, a sudden case of vertigo overtaking her body. Charlotte jumped up from her chair and ran to Megan's side, putting her arm around her shoulder and righting her body. The room was spinning, and Megan felt like she was going to pass out or throw up, or both. Charlotte squeezed her shoulders, “Breathe Meg, breathe”.

  Megan took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "The house. You can sell my house, right Meg? He can't hide a whole house."

  She felt Charlotte stiffen. "What?"

  Charlotte sat back and stared intently at Megan, "Do you remember when Alex bought the office building?"

  "Of course, I do," Megan said hesitantly.

  "He leveraged the house."

  "I know that. I'm not an idiot Charlotte. I signed the spousal agreement on that deal."

  "As you would have had to," Margot interjected. "But what you wouldn't have to sign is the commercial agreement he put together to pull out all the equity from the office building. And who knows what he's done with that."

  "So, you mean to tell me..."

  "There's nothing." Margot put the notebook back in her briefcase.

  "That's impossible," Megan's voice shook.

  "Megan. We think that he's hidden the money offshore. Margot has the connections to prove it, but it might take some time."

  "How much time?"

  "It's hard to say - depends on how good he is at covering his tracks. I've seen it take a few months to a few years."

  Charlotte rubbed Megan's bare arms. "Meg. If he's hidden it, we will find it. I promise you that."

  "But what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

  "You are a smart woman, you will figure it out - you all do." Margot stood up. Charlotte stood, shook her hand, and whispered conspiratorially, "Whatever it takes."

  Megan stood too, her legs shaking. Charlotte slung her arm behind Megan's back to support her as Megan shook Margot's hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Meyer," she said.

  "We will get him, dear. And it's Ms. Meyer."

  The silver-haired woman turned on her Jimmy Choos and left the room.

  The vertiginous feeling returned, and Megan reached for the arm of the sofa. "What am I going to do?" she whispered. Then the tears came. "Charlotte, what am I supposed to do?" she gasped through sobs.

  "You heard Margot. You will figure it out - and I will help you."

  Chapter 4

  "Whoa Nelly," Megan chided herself as she eased off on the accelerator of one of Charlotte's huge 4x4 SUV’s. The massive vehicle had at least ten times the horsepower of her little sedan and had jerked her head backward with its get up and go.

  Megan checked the mirrors and changed lanes, at 6 a.m. the highway was already starting to fill up with rush hour traffic. Charlotte's idea had seemed crazy at first, but now Megan felt like it was genius, like she was escaping. Now, as the pink glow of dawn crested over the horizon, it felt like the right move.

  Megan had heard of Chance Rapids but didn’t know that Charlotte had a little ski cabin there that she never used.

  As the rising sun glinted off the high rises in the rear view mirror, Megan eased into the heated seats, put on her aviator sunglasses and punched Charlotte's address into the GPS: 17 Sugar Peaks Way. According to the calm English accent, she had about seven hours to fully regret her decision to move to Chance Rapids.

  Megan's knuckles were white by the time she passed the small wooden sign for Chance Rapids, population 7,000. When she left the city, the roads were dry and bare, but by the time she had climbed up into the mountains, the roads were covered in a fresh dusting of snow and she had jabbed at the button to switch the SUV into four-wheel drive.

  She crested a hill and got her first glance of Chance Rapids. The colorful wooden houses made her think of the photos she had seen of Iceland. The river that had gurgled along the road fell off into a waterfall and wound its way through the middle of the town.

  She had never seen a place so pretty and quaint-looking. The main street had a barber shop with an old-fashioned striped pole, there were little shops with frosted windows, and e
veryone she saw on the sidewalks seemed to be walking with casual ease, the polar opposite of the hustle and bustle she had left behind.

  She continued to follow the directions as they took her down the main street, past rows of clapboard mining houses, and then over the river through a red covered bridge. Once she crossed the river the street names got more cutesy: Powder Puff Trail, Ski Bunny Way, Sugarbush Lane; and the houses went from 1960s mining homes to modern vacation homes interspersed with the occasional A-frame cabin. When she started to see signs for Sugar Peaks, the ski resort, the homes got damn near palatial. She wound her way up past the chairlift and ski lodge and into a neighborhood of houses that were bigger than any of the hotels in town.

  The last street, Sugar Peaks Way, only had one home on it, and it was the biggest and most elaborate of them all, number 17.

  "Geez, Charlotte, this isn't a cabin," Megan said as she signaled onto the heated driveway. The front of the modern home, or rather the mansion, had huge round pillars that soared up past the glass front of the building, holding up the angled roof. She parked the car and opened the heavy front door. While the house looked cold and empty from the outside, the inside was warm and inviting. She kicked off her boots and walked inside looking around in awe. The double-sided fireplace was pumping out heat and Megan noticed that her sock feet were getting warm, heated floors, of course, she thought to herself.

  Besides a fresh bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island, stood a bottle of wine and a card. Megan picked it up and smiled as she read it, ‘Welcome home, Megan please treat my home like your own, and by that, I mean throw lots of parties with hot mountain men, Love Char. xoxo’.

  It had been a long and stressful drive, so Megan grabbed a corkscrew, opened the bottle and poured herself a very healthy glass of wine. She explored the massive home, selecting the third largest bedroom for herself, leaving the master open in case Charlotte showed up, and the other for Charlotte's younger sister, Lauren.

  She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Charlotte's number.

  "You made it!" Charlotte's voice rang out.

  "I did, it took me 9 hours though."

  "Nine? Wow were the roads bad or were you just driving like a grandma?"

  "A little bit of both," Megan said. "Thanks for the wine. It's delicious," she said and took a sip.

  "I knew that you'd like it. Just so you know, when the cabin isn't being used, I only have staff there once a week for cleaning, but the snow plow driver will come every time it snows."

  "Oh, you mean I won't have staff at my fingertips 24-7?" she laughed and groaned, "and you didn't mention that this place is a fricking palace!"

  "I picked it up before the real estate really took off there,"

  "Well, it's beautiful, thank you for letting me stay here. It's just temporary, you know."

  "I know Meg. But you can stay there as long as you need to."

  "Char, you have done so much for me, I really don't know what to say."

  "Meg, you have always been there for me. Please just enjoy the cabin and maybe take some ski lessons when the mountain opens for the season."

  "Ski lessons? Are you crazy?"

  "When in Rome, Meg, when in Rome..."

  "I'll think about it," Megan lied. There was no way that she was going to take up skiing or any mountain sport. She was a warm weather girl and the only sport she planned on doing was reading by the fire.

  "I can control the heat and cameras from my phone, and the number for the maintenance guy is in the drawer beside the fridge."

  "Got it," Megan said. "Now, where should I go to get a cup of coffee in the morning?"

  "Can you believe that the only coffee shop in town is at the gas station?"

  "What? That's sacrilege."

  "I know. I know..." Charlotte's voice trailed off. "You know what, I'm planning to—"

  "Oh my god." Meg interrupted and set down her glass of wine.

  "Meg, are you okay?"

  "I think that there's a wolf on your patio."

  "A wolf? That's not possible, maybe a coyote."

  "There's a difference?" Megan's voice quivered as she inched her way to the patio door, afraid that the animal was going to lunge at the glass and rip her throat out.

  "Wolves don't like people and are huge. Coyotes look slinky and aren't afraid to come around humans, but I've never seen one at that house."

  Megan pressed her back against the wall beside the door and turned her head to try to catch a glimpse of the predator.

  "Meg, tell me what's happening,"

  "It's just sitting there," she whispered.

  "Just sitting there?"

  "Oh my god, it's scratching at the door. Can it get in?"

  She heard Charlotte chuckle on the other end of the phone. "No, it can't get in. Meg, do me a favor and see if that wolf is wearing a collar."

  Megan took a deep breath and tiptoed closer to the animal, which was sitting and staring into the house, each exhalation forming a small nose shaped steam patch on the glass. She heard it whimper and then let out all her breath in a huge exhale when she saw a plaid collar around its neck and a shiny name tag in the shape of a bone.

  "It's a dog," she gasped.

  She heard hysterical laughter from the other end of the phone. "Oh Meg, maybe I should come up there, I forgot what a city girl you can be."

  "I'll be fine," Meg said and opened the patio door. "Hi boy, what's your name?"

  "Meg, I've got another call. You lock the doors tonight and give me a call tomorrow, ok?"

  "Ok," Meg said and disconnected the phone.

  The wolf-dog stepped into the house and licked her hand. She bent down to read his name tag, Timber. “Are you lost, boy?” Timber responded by licking her face. He leaned against her and she swore that he was looking up at her lovingly. She wrapped her arms around the dog and buried her face in its thick gray neck fur. He didn't smell like a dog, he smelled like the outdoors.

  She picked up her phone and punched in the numbers from the tag, but hesitated, it couldn't hurt to have him around for a little while before calling his owner, could it? His one eye was tiffany blue and seemed to be staring into her soul, while his other, a yellow-brown eye, seemed to be telling her that everything was going to be okay.

  "It would be selfish of me to keep you here," she smiled. It felt good to talk to someone, or rather, something, and not be judged. "Someone is probably really missing you."

  She sat down on the sofa and Timber curled up beside her.

  She pressed 'send' on her phone and stroked the dog's velvety ears while it rang. She was surprised when a smooth honey tenor answered the line.

  "I think that I have your dog, Timber."

  "Oh shit, did he get out again? I'm at a job site, I'll pop out quickly to pick him up. I’m really sorry about that."

  "It's okay," Megan heard herself giggle. She had already conjured up an image of the man to match the voice on the other end of the phone. "He's nice company."

  "That he is. Just don't feed him any cheese."

  "Oh, I wasn't planning on it."

  "Cheese gives him wicked farts."

  And with that, the image of the suave mountain man evaporated from Megan's mind.

  "I'm at 17 Sugar Peaks Way."

  "Oh, okay. I will be there to get him in a few minutes."

  Megan could've sworn that the man's voice went cold as soon as she told him the address. She downed the rest of her wine, angry with herself for thinking about another man, albeit a made up one, when the ink wasn't even dried on her divorce papers, hell the ink wasn’t even wet yet.

  She poured another glass of wine and curled up in front of the fire with Timber. She sat absentmindedly playing with the dog’s fur until the doorbell rang. Disappointed to be losing her friend, she shuffled over to the entryway. She pulled open the door and was caught completely off-guard. The man standing in front of her wasn't exactly the man she had just conjured up, he was better. “Hi,” she stammered as the wine glas
s slipped from her hand.

  Chapter 5

  "Shit," Megan's face flushed as she jumped back to avoid the splatter of cabernet that was expanding in a river along the marble floor tiles.

  "Are you okay?" the man asked.

  "I—um, I ah, shit.”

  "No, Timber. Sit," the man shouted. Megan looked down to see the gorgeous dog sniffing at the wine spots on the floor.

  Timber sat on his hindquarters and stared up at Megan.

  "Let me help you clean this up," he said. "Do you mind if I come in?"

  "Please come in, but you don't have to clean up this mess,"

  "Oh, you have servants that will do that?" he closed the door, stepped over the spilled wine, and looped his thick index finger under Timber's collar.

  Megan laughed, she had forgotten that she was standing in the doorway of a multi-million-dollar home, drinking wine in the middle of the day. "They've got the day off," she joked.

  "Of course," he murmured. "Thanks for calling about this escape artist. Now, where are your paper towels? This wine will stain these tiles if we don't do something right away."

  "Let me find them," Megan jogged into the kitchen, frantically opening cupboards and drawers, trying to find any cleaning supplies.

  "Try under the sink," he suggested. Megan opened the doors and pulled out a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of cleaning solution. The man pulled the trash can out from under the counter and proceeded to return to the scene, picking up shards of glass and dropping them into the can. Megan bent down beside him and started picking up the smaller shards.

  Megan glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye, she had been so flustered she hadn't noticed that he wasn't really a man at all, there were only hints of laugh lines on his tanned face, the brown hair that flicked out from under his wool hat showed no signs of gray, he couldn't have been a day over thirty, if that.

  She sucked in her breath, wondering if she had just had her very first cougar moment. She ripped off some paper towels and sprayed at the wine on the floor. Together they erased any sign of her clumsiness.