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CHAPTER 8
Over the nextfew weeks, I settled into a comfortable routine. During the day, I worked at the Foundation, reading grants and working on the calendar. In the evenings, I usually had dinner with John and Mia, and after the dishes cleared, they helped me with the business plan for my training school.
Every morning I leapt out of bed with enthusiasm for my plan for the school. I was excited to have beginner students who I could teach to walk, trot and canter on a horse, as well as advanced riders who I might be able to take all the way to the Olympics one day. That thought had me feeling equally nervous and energized.
“We can build the arena out here, if you want,” John offered one night while straining the pasta he’d cooked for dinner.
“Thanks John, I’ll give that some thought.”
Their house burst with energy from natural light, beaming through the glass windows and highlighting the house with joy. The kitchen gleamed in the afternoon setting sun.
Sitting atop their three-car garage—of course, one bay was for Mia’s snowmobiles—the apartment was bigger than I expected.
Dormer windows along both walls flooded the room with light. Track lighting ran along the seam of the slanted, insulated roof, the lightbulbs alternately turned to spread the ambient light evenly.
A wrought iron bed, covered in white eyelet linens, was settled in the corner, protected from sight by an oriental Soji screen. I was grateful to have a place to stay but I missed the comfort and space of my previous home. Cinderella’s attic came to mind, and it wasn’t lost on me that my own family had banished me, as well.
The kitchen was fully equipped with retro appliances but lacked a dishwasher. An old-school green plastic dish rack sat next to the sink.
One night, after a solo dinner in my new apartment, I poured a glass of wine and wandered over to Mia and John’s to sit on the deck. Dinner alone was not uncommon for me, but it was usually followed by meeting up with friends for drinks or dancing. Being alone with my own thoughts was uncomfortable, but necessary. The cloud of pretention I had blanketed around myself had been ripped off. Now, I was beginning to see opportunity. I just needed to figure out how not to starve in the meantime.
I stared at the mountains, mesmerized by their rugged peaks. The majesty of the Tetons never got old.
After a few minutes of resolute calm, Jacob drove up in a Brooks Outfitter truck, leaving a cloud of dust whirling behind.
When he stepped out of the truck, he spun his keys, and then shoved them into his front pocket.
I twirled my glass of wine.
“John and Mia are at a gallery showing,” I said as he came up the steps.
“That sounds like fun.”
I tucked a wool blanket around my legs. “No, it doesn’t.”
“No, it does not.”
We smiled tentatively at each other.
The early fall evenings were starting to get cold. Jacob shoved his hands into the pockets of his sheepskin jacket. “Can I sit?”
I started to stand. “Sure. Do you want a glass of wine?”
“No. Thank you, though.”
We hadn’t had any conversations since I’d stormed out of the apartment. I’d brushed off our intimate moment on the trip as a momentary lack of judgment, fueled by the sweet smell of mountain air and starry nights.
He sat down in the Adirondack chair across from me. “How’s it going out here?”
“It’s quiet. Peaceful.”
He looked around, into the house then out at the property. “Yeah, it suits them.”
I wasn’t sure why he was here. I stuck with small talk. “Have any more trips coming up?”
“One more. Adults—three brothers, a sister, and their spouses. A bucket list thing, they said.”
“Sounds fun.” I sat almost motionless.
