Page 27 of Runaway
The wild beauty took my breath away.
Mark sat down, a broad grin on his face. How was he this calm? How could he stand to look at all of this when he could be a few bad payments away from losing it? And why was he so unconcerned about the blatant problems in his plan? Mark usually came to me with his broad strokes ideas. Rarely did I get into the nitty-gritty with him, like now. Instead, I oversaw, advised, and he left to do whatever he thought best.
He drew me back to the present with a loud breath.
“Amazing.” He lifted both hands. “Isn't it absolutely amazing?”
We stared at the mountains, and they stared back. Somewhere around the rills of the peaks across from us would be the highway, hidden by twists and turns. I had absolutely no sense of direction, grateful that only one road led in and out, or else I would have gotten lost long ago.
“Very,” I murmured.
Mark leaned back on his palms, the backs of his shoes thudding against the rock his legs dangled off of like a little kid. I chose to sit back a little farther, legs crossed. The sheer drop below sent my stomach into a tumble at the mere thought.
After several moments, the quiet worked its magic. I lost the trail of anxiety that I'd been walking and let myself get lost in the quiet whisper of wind. My thoughts skittered like the leaves behind us. I closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my face again. When had I last sat outside to feel the sun?
Too long.
Grandma would never approve.
Mark kicked his heels in an alternating rhythm now, but it had a sort of cadence that seemed accidental. Even though he didn't speak, I could hear his thoughts moving. Likely, they never stopped. I could tell that some sort of calculation moved behind his eyes. Although overcome with doubts that he'd be able to save this place, I appreciated his moxie at trying.
Adventura was lovely, but its prospect was bleak. If he really wanted to make stable money off of it, it would need far more upgrading. My lips twitched as I thought of his idea a few months ago.
“Horses, Marie,” he'd said. “I think I need to invest in horses. There's a lot of grazing land out here, and we could use them for the summer camp. What do you think? Horses may draw in more people. My investors are thinking it over.”
While he rattled about horse therapy and autistic kids, my mind had gone down the trail of insurance needs, care, grooming, and basic maintenance. We'd spoken for over an hour about it, and he'd happily paid my consulting fee. Until now, I hadn't realized that Mark did nothing with the horse idea. Maybe it wasn't the worst concept, but the practicality behind it would be more detailed than he'd like.
No, that was a dead end.
My mind spun through other possibilities. How else could the land be used but still maintained for the money-making summer? My thoughts must have spiraled deep—or perhaps my face just betrayed me—because his voice broke into them. My thoughts scattered like grains of sand.
“It's going to be okay, Stella.”
When I looked at him, he peered at me with a curious, but steady, gaze. For a second, I was tempted to smile and lead him down a different track. Tell him that fear and concern weren't even on my mind. But that would be a lie, and I never lied.
“I hope so.”
“I always figure it out.”
That muchwastrue. He figured something out usually, even if it was patchwork and eventually abandoned. His life was littered with bandaids, but even those had slowly side-stepped him places.
Where did the steady trust in himself come from? How could he so easily spin ideas and justhopeto find the money? There needed to be a firm plan. A path to find the people that would do the rentals. A known, trusted source for each step that we could logically move into next.
“It's pretty simple, really,” he said as if he were talking to himself now. “We already have the space to rent since you are kind enough to move to the attic. There are no upgrades that need to happen aside from basic cozying up, which is easy. So we have one week to find someone—or several someones—to rent it. The path is clear.”
“Right,” I said, my tone deadpan. “As if that were so simple. As if companies don't spend thousands of dollars every day in lead acquisition.”
He laughed. “We don't need thousands of dollars.”
My frustration was palpable. “How are you going tofindthose people? Leads? Paid traffic? Do you have some sort of . . . connection in Jackson City or . . .”
He grinned, which stopped me short. There was a little too much rugged attractiveness about his beard, his quirky hair, and the bright set of teeth behind his lips. Lips that, I admitted to myself, I looked at a few too many times today.
“With the steadiest, most reliable asset I have,” he said.
“What's that?”
“My unflappable charm, of course.”
