trying not to show it. She put the last of her few possessions into the bag and walked back into the dining room. She had her grandfather’s phone number. She pushed it in on her cell phone. When he answered, she asked if his car had GPS and when he said it did, she gave him the address. “Can you come get me right now?” she asked, fighting tears.
There was a long sigh. “I can. I’m so sorry, honey.”
She lifted her face and looked at Butch, who was quiet and solemn. “Fortunes of war,” she said into the receiver, and hung up.
* * *
Her grandfather got her a room of her own, next to his, and introduced her to his two bodyguards. They weren’t big, brutish guys. One was slender with blond hair and pale eyes, the other was dark with broad shoulders and a cowboy’s lankiness. They shook hands with polite smiles and promised to keep her out of harm’s way.
“Your husband couldn’t face it, I gather?” her grandfather asked quietly.
She didn’t speak. She just shook her head.
“Well, we’ll manage,” he said after a minute.
She almost strangled on her next words. “He said it was all right if I wanted to do something about the baby.”
The older man put his arms around her and let her cry. “Men say terrible things when they’re upset,” he said. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
She wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter. “I’m not giving up my baby,” she said shortly. “He doesn’t even have to see it. I’ll . . . I’ll go someplace and live where he won’t ever see me again.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he said gently. “You’ll come home with me.”
She smiled weakly. “Okay.”
He sighed. He’d lost his daughter years ago, but it was almost like having her back. He’d take care of Esther and her child, and maybe it would make up, just a little, for the misery he’d caused Terry by shutting her out of his life when she married Esther’s father. He’d failed Terry. He wasn’t about to fail Esther.
* * *
Darrin had hired a man to get to Esther and kill her, if possible. He had a brand-new will that was forged but looked legitimate.
When the old man showed up with Esther in Aspen, and with the legitimate will, everything was quickly over for the murderer of Terry Marist. It made all the best news shows. It was a big story, a celebrity murder, an estranged wealthy father, a daughter who was press-shy and kept well away from reporters.
Back in Benton, Butch watched the story play out in the news. His heart ached. He was alone again. He missed Esther. He was furious with himself for what he’d said to her, the way he’d treated her. He’d invited her to get rid of their child. Probably she had, thinking her idiot husband didn’t love her or want her because she had more money than he did.
He really hated himself. How much became apparent when he didn’t show up for work three days in a row and his best friend, Parker, came looking for him.
* * *
Parker found Butch so drunk that he couldn’t even get words out of him. He set to work, cleaning up the cabin and then cleaning up, and sobering up, Butch.
After a pot of coffee, Butch was a little more lucid. “She’s in Aspen, facing that trial all alone, and I’m up here feeling sorry for myself. She’ll never speak to me again, and I deserve it. We were going to have a baby . . .” He almost choked on the coffee. His voice broke and he had to fight to steady it. “I told her it was okay with me if she didn’t want it . . .”
“My God,” Parker said heavily. “No wonder you got drunk.”
“She’s worth millions,” Butch said through his teeth. “I work for wages.”
“If she loves you, and you love her, what’s the problem?”
“I just told you,” Butch said belligerently. “She’s worth millions and I work for wages.”
“So have her put all the money into a trust for the kids and go back to work at the Gray Dove restaurant.”
“I can’t ask an heiress to wait tables!”
“You never asked her to in the first place,” Parker pointed out. “She offered.” He smiled. “She loves you.”
“She did.”
“Trust me, love doesn’t wear out just because you have a fight. And I’d know,” he added tongue in cheek.
Butch chuckled. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“If they haven’t fired you for laying