Page 87 of Van Cort
“Debatable.” She smirks. I hold the nugget of gold up. “I was going to suggest we did something with this, but you naked and wet really isn’t helping me make up my mind. Put some clothes on.”
She snorts and reaches for a robe. “What do you mean ‘do’ something with it?”
“Turn it into something.” She frowns and quirks her brow.
“How?”
“It’s getting late. But we can go tomorrow. I know a guy. Or I did.”
***
After she had breakfast with West, I take her out. It’s been years since I visited the Devlin ranch, but they’re the best, and so that’s where we’re going.
A while later, and we’re headed out onto the dirt track leading up through the mountains. She’s smiled the entire drive, occasionally making me stop so she can get out and look at the views.
“You have no idea how lucky you are living in a place like this.” I keep driving, unable to comment because of the myriad of emotions associated with that subject. “I mean, I know you’ve got a past here and things weren’t good, but look at it all. Try seeing it with fresh eyes like mine. It’s amazing. Astounding really. Who gets a view like this to enjoy? We’re all so busy going about our daily lives, giving every bit of us over to promotions and deals. We forget, don’t you think? We forget that we’re here for such a small amount of time and there’s so much to see.”
I pull to a stop, listening to the crunch of the wheels on the dirt, and switch the engine off. “You like it that much?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
I stare with her, attempting to dismiss the corrupted part of my memories to try seeing the beauty. It doesn’t necessarily work, but her reaching over to take my hand in the silence somehow brings a long-held breath out of me. I don’t even realise it until I find myself smiling at the feel of her and the hundreds of miles of nature around us. There’s a peace in that that I’m not sure I’ve ever sensed before. It’s quiet and dignified, elegant even. It brings visions of happiness and family and children running and swimming.
“Shall I give you some corrosive parts of the picture?”
“No. I don’t want anything other than this. Don’t ruin it.”
“Tough. Three-metre snow depths at the house. Around six or seven up here. Snowed in means exactly that. It’s why the groundsmen pile up wood all summer. Generators fail, often.Snowmobiles struggle. The bobcats are useless when the sky really means it. It goes on for months some years. All the internet and phone signals go down.”
“And so you have to snuggle up by log fires and read books? What a hardship.”
“Either that or skate.”
Her head whips to look at me. “Oh, I didn’t think about that. The lake. I used to skate a bit when I was younger. Never on a proper lake, though.”
I chuckle and bring her hand to my lips, kissing it before starting the engine again and driving forward. “Seems like you can find the fun and joy in anything.”
“I try. Life’s taught me to be grateful for the good times, as they aren’t guaranteed. Positive mindset. Fight. Find a way to achieve your goals and dreams. You know, when I was at university, I had things to prove, a place to make sure I was worthy of. It’s hard to fit in against the likes of you at school.”
“Me?”
“Advantaged.” I arch a brow at her.
“I can guarantee you, you would not have swapped your life for my apparent advantage.”
“How many private tutors before you went?”
“Several.”
She turns sideways and looks at me rather than the view. “Did your father donate to Harvard each year, ensuring your place?” Visions of the island flash through my mind, of West telling me he was to go to Stanfordinstead. No amount of money made sure Van Cort went to Harvard. Only one of us. It was damned lonely. Painful, even. “I’ll take the silence as a yes. And I don’t suppose you’ve ever thought about it, but I guess there were plenty of scholarship students there while you were, all of them trying desperately to fit in. Did you give any of them the timeof day? Socialise with them? Notice anything about them other than their lack of money or position? Date any of them?”
“I didn’t date.”
“No?”
“No. I fucked when I needed to. And if we’re being completely honest, I barely socialised either, despite my father’s insistence that I should make connections. Most of it was a blur of booze, tests and hormonal angst. I didn’t give anyone the time of day, including those I should have. I didn’t want to.” I look at the large ranch cabin coming into view as we drive around a long sweeping curve in the track. “Does it bother you that I have money?”
“No.”
