A Lasting Proposal

Out of habit, she placed her mug inside the dishwasher and then set about getting ready for bed. As she brushed her teeth, she avoided her reflection in the mirror, just as she knew she’d avoided the truth about her daughter for months.

Physically, Maureen still had Holly by her side. But emotionally, they’d lost contact years ago. And Maureen had no idea how to go about regaining it.

Kelly thought Maureen needed to work less, be home more. They’d discussed this before today’s phone call. Given the demands of her law firm, Maureen knew that if she wanted to work less, the only option was to quit.

But then what would she do? Without her six-figure income, they couldn’t afford to stay in this neighborhood. They’d have to move—but where?

Only one place made sense. The mountain town where she’d grown up—and left to go to university—where her two sisters and their husbands now lived: Canmore.

She could start her own legal practice there. It would be much smaller and less stressful than her work here in Calgary. Equating to more time spent at home with Holly.

But Holly didn’t want to spend time with her mother. She’d probably hate the idea of moving. And surely an upheaval, just when she was beginning to adjust to junior high, would be a mistake.

Maureen left the bathroom and collapsed on her bed. God help her, she didn’t know what to do. All night, she tossed and turned. Finally, just before dawn, she dropped off. Her last thought was a prayer.

Send me a sign. Tell me the right thing to do for my daughter.

CHAPTER TWO

“YOUR PROFITS HAVE BEEN very healthy, Jake,” Harvey Tomchuk said between sips of his coffee. “But given the capital outlays you want to make this year, you could use a cash infusion.”

Jake Hartman liked the sound of the phrase. Sort of New Age—like a vitamin or herbal infusion. “Are you talking about a bank loan, Harvey? You know I’m not keen on debt.”

“No debt.” His accountant helped himself to another cup of coffee from the machine on the counter, next to the Dutch oven that Jake hadn’t gotten around to putting away after dinner. “I’m thinking of equity here, as in cash provided to the business by a new investor. Simple enough for you yet?”

“Oh, sure. Now I get it. You want me to find someone with half a mil to invest in my heli-skiing business. That should be a snap.”

“You could always ask Patricia.”

Jake snorted. He’d rather see his business fold than go into partnership with his mother. Not that he didn’t sympathize with her. She’d lost her husband when she was only thirty, and been left to raise on her own a rowdy boy she’d never been able to understand.

That had been tough for her, especially since she’d been determined to shape and mold that boy, who’d happened to be him, in the image of her late, idealized husband. And she’d never let her son forget what a terrible disappointment he’d turned out to be. He’d demonstrated no head for business, hated cities and was awkward and disagreeable at the society functions his mother planned her life around. For all his growing-up years, Jake had resented his mother’s efforts to control what he wore, how he spoke, the way he cut his hair.

The only times he felt free and happy were on his summer and Christmas holidays, which he’d spent with his uncle Bud McLean’s family, on the Thunder Bar M in Alberta. So it was no surprise he’d moved out here the day he’d finished high school.

His mother was furious and refused to so much as visit him. Out of guilt more than affection, he made an annual pilgrimage east so she could frown at him and heave great sighs of disappointment. Once a week he called to assure her he hadn’t killed himself on some godforsaken mountain.

Ask his mother for money? No way.

“I guess I’ll think of something,” he said. “How much, exactly, should I be looking for?”

Harvey circled the bottom number in a long line of figures. Jake winced.

“Of course,” Harvey pointed out, “you could avoid all this by lowering your standards just a tad. No one expects real linen in a remote mountain lodge.”

“Not a chance.” Jake wouldn’t even consider that option. Grizzly Peaks was his baby, his life. Already clients came from all over the world, willing to pay thousands of dollars for the opportunity to ski in the backcountry wilderness of the Rocky Mountains.

But he wanted more. Not necessarily bigger—in fact, definitely not bigger—but the best of everything. One day Grizzly Peaks would be the premier heli-skiing operation in North America.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll come up with something. You always do. By the way, planning any mountain climbing this summer?”

“My knees have really been bothering me lately.” A reminder that he was closing in on forty. Now he needed the four-month summer break from skiing to rest his old ligaments and joints.

Compounding the problem with his knees was his difficulty in finding a buddy to climb with these days. Slowly but surely his friends had gotten married and started families. A day off for climbing was a luxury they could rarely afford.

“You talk like you’re old, Jake. Wait until you’re in your seventies like me!”

“At least you picked a good profession. You’ll be able to keep running your business as long as your mind remains capable of adding and subtracting.”

“Yeah, but the question is, will I want to?” Harvey finished off his coffee. “Well, I guess we’re done here. I’ll put together the final financial proposal, then you can go out and try to find your money.”

Harvey gathered the papers into his briefcase, leaving a copy of the statements on the table for Jake. After a warm handshake, he shuffled out the door. Jake thought he’d left, but moments later the older man poked his head back inside.

“You forgot to take in your newspapers.”

There were two in the box. Jake subscribed to the Calgary Herald as well as the Canmore Leader. After waving off his friend, he took them both to the living room.

The headline in the Herald startled the hell out of him. Conrad Beckett had killed himself? God, what a nightmare that whole episode was turning out to be. Jake read the print on page one, then followed the story to page three. Most of it was old history; he knew the case well. In fact, he’d even started a scrapbook.

Now he went to the kitchen to get the scissors and tape, then to his desk, where he pulled out the binder he’d used to collect articles such as this one.

It wasn’t morbid fascination that drew him, but a combination of personal interest and family obligations. At one time popular opinion around Canmore had it that his cousin, Dylan McLean, was responsible for Jilly Beckett’s death. Now almost everyone thought James Strongman had done it.

James’s father, Max, was the current mayor of Canmore. He’d married Dylan’s widowed mother, Rose, a long time ago. After Jilly’s death, he’d convinced Rose to make out her will entirely to him, cheating Dylan of his father’s inheritance. Then, just when Rose had seemed about to change her mind and revisit her will in Dylan’s favor, she’d been murdered.

At first Dylan, who was known as a hothead, had been suspected again. Then evidence proving that he’d been set up was found. James, who had no alibi for the night Rose was killed, was the most likely culprit. But he’d escaped to Mexico rather than face police inquiries, and hadn’t been seen since.

A convenient and tidy impasse in Canmore’s two unsolved homicide cases. Jake, however, wasn’t so sure that James was the guilty party. Or if so, that he’d acted alone. And others in town shared his doubts.

Carefully, Jake cut out the article and the attached photos. He paused to examine them. First Jilly, then Rose, now Jilly’s father. Too many deaths, shrouded in too much uncertainty, for one small mountain town of only ten thousand people.

Jake picked up the local paper next. Ironically, on the front page of the Leader was a shot of Max Strongman and a bold heading: Canmore Mayor Won’t Run Again In Fall Election.

Well, that was good news. Jake snapped the paper, then peered again at the picture of Strongman. The man had a distinguished, statesmanlike air, but he was as wily as an old coyote, and manipulative to boot. Jake read about his plans to retire from public office to pursue “other interests.” Hah! Jake reached for the phone to call his cousin.

“Did you hear the news about Strongman?” he asked once Cathleen had passed the phone over to her husband.

“Wish I could say it was good news,” Dylan said. “But you know, the minute he’s no longer mayor of Canmore, he’ll be pushing that damn recreational housing project on my father’s land.”

“Next to the oil wells?”

Dylan’s laugh was bitter. “If he goes ahead with this, the development will cut right across the natural wildlife corridor along Thunder Creek.”

“We’ve got to stop him somehow.”

“Don’t I wish,” Dylan agreed. “Our best hope is that we elect an antidevelopment mayor who throws so many roadblocks in Strongman’s way he hasn’t a chance.”

But that wasn’t likely. Feelings both for and against development in Canmore ran strong, but lately the tide had definitely been in favor of development. Plus, a new man was in the wings—a shoe-in for the job if Max retired. And he was prodevelopment, too.

“Any other options?” Jake asked.

“Let me see. Why don’t we prove Max planned both my mother’s and Jilly Beckett’s deaths, and that James was merely a pawn in his hands. Once Max is in jail, he’ll have a hard time presenting his development plans to town council.”

Jake sank into a nearby chair. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Actually, the two men had discussed the possibility of Max’s involvement in Rose’s murder to the point of exhaustion. They each suspected that James had tossed that firecracker as a diversion for his father to shoot Jilly. Odds on proving that, however, were slim at best.

After a depressing pause, Jake told his cousin about the plans for upgrading Grizzly Peaks.

“So you need a silent partner, do you? Let me think about that. I may know just the person.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“Oh, she is. But I have to go, buddy. Cathleen’s giving me that look….”

“Say no more.” Jake hung up, knowing his cousin was referring to the look that every man longed for. The look that meant Come to bed, darling.

Lucky guy. Jake hadn’t been the recipient of the look in a long time. In fact, how long had it been?

Sprawling out on the sofa ten minutes later, with a beer and the remote control, Jake tried to recall the last woman he’d had in his bed. Over the years he’d gone through a series of relationships with a number of women. Each time there’d come a point when demands were made that he’d felt unable to meet. The last one’s name had been…Terri-Lynn.

The next one would be…who? The pickings were getting meager, Jake had to admit. Most women around his age were married. He was willing to date younger ones. But even the women in that group were mostly paired off now.

Maybe he’d missed his chance. Yet Jake didn’t regret ending any one of his failed relationships. So maybe he was born to be a bachelor. It wasn’t the worst fate for a man…especially one as busy as he was. Grizzly Peaks took a lot out of him. And now he had to find the equity partner Harvey was talking about.

Jake picked up his copy of the financial papers and scanned the bottom line. Who did Dylan know with that much money available?

MAUREEN WENT TO Conrad Beckett’s funeral Tuesday afternoon. She sat near the back of the Riverview United Church, the same church where services had been held for her husband, little more than one year ago. And previous to that, for Jilly Beckett.

Many of the people filling the pews today had attended those funerals, as well. Certainly Linda Beckett had been at both. Maureen remembered her stopping to speak after Rod’s service.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, Maureen,” she’d said, squeezing her hand hard, “I’d be glad to help.”

Linda’s well-meaning kindness had made Maureen feel guilty for not having offered the same to Linda after Jilly’s funeral. She’d assumed that family members, and more intimate friends, would be filling that role in Linda’s life. And Conrad’s. But maybe they hadn’t.

The service was over at four. Maureen doubted that Linda Beckett even recognized her when she stepped up to give her condolences. The new widow seemed disoriented. Her sister had guided her through every step of the service as carefully as if Linda had suddenly gone blind.

Maureen left the throng of people with a sense of unease. She’d hoped attending the funeral would provide closure in the whole affair, but she was left feeling even more unsettled.

From the comfortable leather-covered driving seat of her BMW, she was tempted to return to the office but instead went to the Safeway and picked up a rotisserie chicken, rolls and a bagged salad. Usually she had a housekeeper half days, so someone would be home when Holly came from school. But they were between employees right now—the last woman had quit when Holly had tossed her dinner in the garbage without even giving it a taste.

Just as Maureen was pulling into her garage, the cell phone rang. She attached the small speaker into her ear and pressed Talk.

“Hello?” With her free hand, she grabbed the bags of groceries, then entered the house.

“It’s me. Cathleen. Dylan asked me to let you know about an opportunity. It’s with his cousin, Jake Hartman. Do you remember him from our wedding?”

As it so happened, Maureen did remember Jake—a big man with dark blond hair. She’d caught his gaze on her a few times during the ceremony, then later at the reception. At the time she’d been vaguely uncomfortable with the man’s open scrutiny.

Now she was curious. “What about Jake?”

“He’s looking for new capital for his heli-skiing business. It sounds frivolous, but trust me, it’s extremely successful. His profits are amazing.”

“So?” Maureen set the grocery bags on the counter. She could hear the muffled, pulsing bass of Holly’s music coming from upstairs. Her daughter craved awful stuff these days, heavy metal from bands like Faith Warning and Bitter End. Maureen had asked Holly not to buy those kinds of CDs, so instead she borrowed pirated copies from kids at school.

“I thought you might be interested. You have that money from Rod’s life insurance, and I know how pitiful interest rates are these days.”

Maureen pulled out a bowl for the salad, then a knife to carve the chicken. “You think I should invest Holly’s inheritance from her father in a heli-skiing business? Cathleen, that’s nuts!”

“Why? Jake’s a great guy and Grizzly Peaks has a world-class reputation. With your cut of the profits, you probably wouldn’t have to work anymore, unless you wanted to.”

Maureen wondered if this could be it—the opportunity she’d been waiting for. “Well, I have to admit, I’ve been thinking of quitting my job.” The new case requiring all that travel to Edmonton had done it. Or maybe it was Conrad Beckett’s funeral. Or the lyrics she’d listened to on Holly’s ghetto blaster last week when her daughter was out of the house.

“Then you should definitely check out Jake’s proposal. If it appeals, you could move back to Canmore. You’ll make a ton of money selling your house, too.”

“How much capital is Hartman looking for?” It couldn’t hurt to check this out. Although the idea of being partners with Jake was a little…disturbing.

Hard to say why exactly. Just that something about the man had set her nerves on edge. The way he kept watching her…

Yet for every time his gaze had been on her, her gaze had been on him. Even during the service, when she should have been concentrating on Cathleen and Dylan. She remembered thinking, that man knows.

He knows I’m only pretending to mourn for my husband.

CHAPTER THREE

JAKE WAS PLEASED THAT HE’D managed to snag an outdoor table in front of the Bagel Bites Café. From the tray in his hand, he unloaded two coffees in foam cups and two toasted bagels with cream cheese. Out of the back pocket of his jeans he pulled a one-page partnership agreement.

He smoothed the folds from the paper, then placed it on the table in front of the unoccupied chair.

Maureen Shannon was ten minutes late.

No big deal. She was driving from Calgary, so it had to be difficult to time her arrival exactly. He had coffee, a comfortable place to sit and warm sunshine on his face. Settling in his chair, he stretched out his legs and told himself he didn’t mind waiting.

“Something wrong, Jake?” One of the women who worked behind the counter was clearing tables. “You seem a little edgy. Mind moving your foot so I can get by?”

Jake shifted his legs and frowned. He wasn’t edgy. It was just that these damn plastic chairs were too small for someone his size. And his new hiking boots weren’t as comfortable as his old ones. And he hadn’t put enough cream in his coffee….

Okay, so he was nervous. Embarrassing to admit, but true. He tapped his foot and checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes late.

He didn’t know why he was uptight about this meeting. If this didn’t work out, he’d find another investor.

Yeah, right. They’d be lining up at his door, checkbooks in hand.

Jake sipped his coffee while he scanned the people passing by. Monday mornings in May were pretty quiet in Canmore. Few tourists this early in the season. And the regulars had their jobs—many of them commuted to Calgary.

He wondered what Maureen’s plans were. According to Cathleen, she was toying with the idea of moving. Somehow he couldn’t picture her living here, though. Unlike her two sisters, she was obviously a city woman.

Of course, he’d only met her a few times, the last occasion being Cathleen and Dylan’s wedding. Her husband had been dead just a few months, so he’d expected her to be pretty shaken up. But she was so together it was almost scary. She’d reminded him of the plastic Christmas trees he saw every season in department store windows. Everything about her was so perfect she didn’t seem real—from her appearance, which was all big-city polish, to her take-charge manner, to her perfect composure throughout the ceremony.

She’d been one of the few not to tear up during the exchange of wedding vows. Jake had recognized the cynicism he’d glimpsed within those china-doll blue eyes—he, too, held little faith in happily ever after. But he’d never been married, and Maureen had. What life experiences had put that chilly smile on her soft, pretty lips?

And what was going on between her and her daughter? The only time Maureen displayed any vulnerability was when she was watching Holly. But Holly studiously avoided her mother’s gaze at all times. Something was definitely wrong there.

Out on the street a black BMW slowed. The driver skillfully maneuvered the vehicle into one of the parallel-parking spots half a block down from the café. The car shouted “big city,” so he wasn’t surprised when Maureen Shannon stepped out from behind the steering wheel. Holding her blond hair back with one hand, she checked for traffic before hauling a big leather briefcase from the back seat.

Early thirties, he figured, knowing she was the eldest of the Shannon sisters. She had the composure of a mature woman, and the stride of someone with no time to lose. He watched her approach, appreciating her tall, long-limbed form. She wore a black pants suit with a white blouse. Sunglasses hid her eyes. He removed his own, preparing to flag her down.

She seemed to be talking to herself. As she neared, he saw she was speaking into a small microphone attached to the phone in her other hand.

“Didn’t you get my e-mail?”

He could hear her now.

“Don’t worry. After this meeting I’ll go to my sister’s and connect my laptop. You’ll have another copy before lunch.”

Then she was at his table and smiling brilliantly. “Jake Hartman?”

He stood to take her hand.

“Good to see you, Maureen. How was the drive from Calgary?”

“Beautiful. Absolutely stunning.” She removed her glasses to look at him, but the sun was so bright she crinkled her eyes and put them back on. “Great weather, isn’t it?”

He agreed, pulling out her chair.

Maureen glanced at the table and frowned. “You ordered for me?”

He shrugged. “To save time. How’s your daughter doing—Holly, right?”

Maureen shifted her gaze uncertainly. “She still misses her dad.”

“I guess that’s to be expected.”

Settling her briefcase at her side, Maureen sat. “Cathleen tells me you have a business proposition.”

So there was to be no more time wasted on chit-chat, Jake surmised. It wasn’t his style; he preferred to ease into serious subjects the way you waded slowly into a cold lake.

No, the deep plunge wasn’t his way. But he could be flexible. “I have plans for upgrading my heli-skiing business—Grizzly Peaks. Problem is, I’ve never liked dealing with banks, so my accountant suggested I look for an equity investor—” what had Dylan called it? “—a silent partner.”

“Right. Tell me a bit about yourself, Jake. When did you start this business? What do you see as your strengths and weaknesses?”

She was making him feel like a job applicant. It was amusing in a way. He’d earned enough of a name for himself at Grizzly Peaks that most people around here were well aware of his reputation. But Maureen wasn’t from Canmore, and she had every right to know about the man she was considering investing her money with.

“I started Grizzly Peaks about ten years ago on seventy-five hundred square kilometers of untouched backcountry. Our customers fly in by charter helicopter to home base. And they’re treated to the best. Besides a hundred thousand feet of vertical skiing, we provide guides, gourmet food and lodging. We’ve even got hot tubs and saunas and a complete health club in our main lodge.”

“Rod always wanted to try heli-skiing,” she muttered, tearing off a small corner of her bagel and eating it tentatively, as if she expected it to be laced with cayenne pepper or something.

“It’s a total blast. I’ll take you and your kid on a complimentary junket one day.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“It’s not dangerous if you’re with an experienced outfit.”

“I’ve heard that line once too often in my life.” She picked up the partnership agreement he’d written and read it through.

Jake leaned back and sipped more coffee. Basically the agreement stated that in exchange for her money, he’d provide annual financial statements and a cut of the profits equal to her stake in the business. He hadn’t seen any need to make the agreement more complicated than that.

Watching her read, he felt a new tension, unrelated to the business prospects of this meeting. Damn, but she was gorgeous. Without her daughter around, though, there was no hint of the vulnerability he’d thought he’d glimpsed at the wedding. This woman was tough, he conceded. Yet something about her tight smile and the defiant angle of her chin made him want to touch her hand reassuringly.

He had little doubt she’d slap him if he dared.

“Well?” he asked when she appeared to be done.

She dropped the page on the table with no comment. “You said your accountant prepared some financial projections?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’d almost forgotten about them. Now he reached into his back pants pocket and pulled out the folded square package. Seeing Maureen’s mouth droop at the sight, he regretted not heeding Harvey’s advice and having the report printed and bound professionally. With care he pressed out the stapled sheets, then passed them over.

“Thanks.” Maureen checked everything very carefully. As she read, she tore away at the bagel, eating it molecule by molecule. She was only a quarter of the way through the bread when she was done with the documents.

“What about years with poor snowfall?” she asked.