The Bluff (Calamity Montana)
The Bluff: Chapter 18

I KNOCKED on the door to my own damn office, hesitating at the threshold. “Hey.”

Everly looked up from the computer. “Hi.”

“We’re out of kraft paper. Got any extra rolls tucked away?”

“Did you check upstairs?” she asked, standing and rounding the desk.

“No. If you tell me where, I can look.”

“That’s okay. I’ll go.”

I gave her room, letting her slip past me and down the hall to the stairs. Then she disappeared while I hovered. Waiting.

“Excuse me,” Savannah snapped from behind.

I jerked, twisting and moving to the side. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” she muttered, carrying a box past me and into the storage room.

She emerged, with the right size box this time, just as Ev came down the stairs with a new roll of paper in her arms.

I saw the collision before it happened. Savannah wasn’t stomping around like she had been all morning. Everly was rushing so she could disappear into the office and avoid me.

“Oof.” Everly’s shoulder connected with the wall as Savannah came barreling out of the storage room.

“Jeez.” Savannah glared at Ev. “Do you mind?”

Everly opened her mouth and the fire in her eyes said she had a retort on the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself before anything came out. She plastered on that fake smile and stepped back. “Sorry.”

“Savannah.” I arched my eyebrows.

“Sorry.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Two whatevers in less than two minutes. Today was going to be fun.

As my daughter took her box to the showroom, Everly held out the paper roll. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded, avoided eye contact, and the moment I inched back far enough, she bolted into the office.

It had become her sanctuary over the past two weeks. My wife spent more time in my office than she did in my bed.

But I didn’t know what to say, so I turned and took the paper to the showroom, where Katie was helping Savannah wrap a painting.

“Like this?” Savannah asked.

Katie nodded from where she was kneeling beside my daughter. “Perfect.”

“Okay.” Savannah finished with the layer of bubble wrap, then looked to the roll in my hand. “Now the paper?”

“Yep.” I tore off a long piece and handed it over, only to have her snatch it from my hand. The icy mood she’d been in since arriving was taking a while to thaw.

We’d spent the morning wrapping up three different sales so Savannah could learn all the steps. Bubble wrap, kraft paper, corner protectors and the box. Sunday mornings, even in tourist season, were slow to start so we had a mess in the showroom from the lesson. But we’d been open for an hour and eleven o’clock was approaching. Soon, we’d have a steady stream of people in and out until we closed at seven.

Packaging shipments was one of the tasks Savannah would be doing when she worked here. For now, Katie was going to continue being the face of the gallery. Savannah would come and do some easy jobs, like shipping and cleaning, until she was more comfortable. Then Katie and I had decided that Savannah would cover evenings.

Eventually.

We were treading lightly for the moment. Savannah would only work here on Sundays for the time being. It was a way for me to see her every week, not just the two when she was at home.

It had been two weeks since I’d bought her the Mazda and she was back to April’s. I’d managed to convince her to take her car too. The dirt bike wasn’t history, yet, but I had hope.

April, of course, had thrown a fit about Savannah working. Not to me. Since the courthouse, I hadn’t seen or heard from my ex-wife directly. No, her new torture tactic was to throw a raging tantrum at home to Savannah. April would put our daughter in a shit mood and send her my way.

Like she had this morning.

“There’s one more painting to pack,” Katie said, standing. “I’ll go grab it.”

I waited until she was gone, then I blew out a long breath and turned to Savannah. “Okay. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Try again. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Savannah.” I kept my voice cool and calm. Slowly, I was learning that Savannah needed a small push to open up. Another father-daughter similarity. As long as I didn’t get angry and as long as I didn’t give up, eventually she’d let out whatever it was that was bothering her.

Savannah stood and paced away toward the wall, stopping in front of her portrait. Her frame slumped as she took it in. For her age, she was carrying far too much.

I walked over and put my hands on her shoulders. “What happened?”

“Mom,” she whispered. “We got in a fight this morning.”

Exactly as they had before Savannah’s last couple of visits. April chased her out of the house, ensuring her own child was angry, sulking or hurt—sometimes all three. I’d known from the moment Savannah had walked through the gallery door this morning that today had been no different.

“They don’t want me working,” she confessed.

“Why?”

“Julian says my grades aren’t good enough. That I should be doing schoolwork instead.”

“School’s important. But what’s wrong with your grades?”

“I have a B in government and a B minus in chemistry.”

“Uh . . . what’s the problem?”

She turned and looked at me like I was crazy. “I can’t get a C.”

“But you don’t have a C.”

“But I might.”

“And the world will keep spinning.”

My parents hadn’t understood why my brother could maintain a four-point GPA and I was perfectly fine living with a two point five. But their pressure to get perfect grades had only turned me bitter about school and destroyed the idea of college.

“You don’t get it,” she muttered, turning to march away, but I caught her by the elbow and brought her back.

“They are grades. If they bother you, we’ll work harder at getting them up. But if you’re good with the B and B minus, so am I.”

Her eyebrows came together as she thought about it, then she sighed. “I don’t want a C.”

“Okay. Bring your chemistry here on Sundays and after you get done with work, you can sit in the office and study.”

She nodded, her chin dropping. “Mom said you’re trying to buy me.”

Fucking April. “Buy you?”

“With the car and now the job. That you want me to hang out with you because you’re trying to get back at her. That you don’t really love me, but I’m the only way you can keep trying to ruin her life.”

That. Bitch. I hauled in a long breath, fighting to keep calm. If I blew, it would become about April, not Savannah. “Contrary to what your mother thinks, my world doesn’t revolve around her.”

Savannah didn’t look up.

I tucked a finger under her chin, tipping it up, and only when I had those blue eyes did I tell her the truth. “My world revolves around you.”

Her eyes turned glassy. “But you don’t love me.”

“What?”

“You never say it,” she cried, her arms wrapping around her middle, like she hadn’t just slammed a dagger into my heart.

I’d never told my daughter that I loved her.

The realization nearly dropped me on my ass.

“Savannah, I—” My voice cracked as the words choked.

Never in my life had three words been more important. What if I screwed them up? What if I said them and she thought it was only because she’d brought it up?

Why the hell hadn’t I said it before now?

Every person who’d said it to me had betrayed me. They’d left me behind. My parents. My brother. April. All people who’d claimed to love me but didn’t actually know what the fuck love meant.

But not Savannah.

I loved her with every beat of my broken, miserable heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for the tear that dripped down her cheek. The apology felt almost as important as the words to come. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it out loud, but Savannah, there is no person in this world I love more than you.”

Then she collapsed, falling in my chest as her entire body shook from the sobs in her throat. They echoed in the gallery and down the hallway.

I clung to her, holding her tight as she cried in my arms. I pressed my cheek against her hair and whispered, “I love you, Savannah.”

That only made her cry harder.

“Hux, is everything—” Everly came rushing out of my office, but when she spotted us, she mouthed, “Is she okay?”

I nodded.

And with that, she backed away, leaving me to hold my daughter as she cried. I whispered I love you over and over, knowing I had sixteen years to make up for. But I’d do it. If it took me the rest of my life, I’d be the dad she deserved.

It took Savannah a while to stop crying but she pulled herself together and looked up. “I love you too, Dad.”

That was all I needed in this life.

Love from this beautiful girl.

The door chimed behind me and I turned, nodding to the customer walking inside. It was a middle-aged woman with a straw hat wearing a Yellowstone National Park T-shirt. A tourist. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, already moving toward the wall of paintings.

“You good?” I asked Savannah quietly.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

While Savannah and I busied with the packing supplies, Katie came in to greet the customer and answer her questions about the style and artist. It was something I always hated doing, talking about myself.

There were artists who got off on preening for customers and showering them with details about the process and inspiration. But I didn’t want to explain my art. Because though it had become an income source, painting calmed my soul. It centered me.

If they didn’t pay me to paint, I’d do it anyway. I didn’t need or enjoy the praise, so after I got Savannah settled upstairs with some cleaning supplies, I slunk away to the office.

“Hey.” Knocking before I came in was getting old, but in the past months, this office hadn’t felt much like mine anymore.

“Hi.” She glanced up from the computer screen. Her smile was tight. Her eyes wary.

In the past two weeks, things between us had been . . . off. It had started at the café when we’d run into my parents. After that, Everly had pulled away.

The two of us hadn’t touched one another since. Every night when I went upstairs to bed, she was on the couch reading. She’d promise to be up soon, but that normally lasted until I fell asleep. Then on the nights I was late in the studio, she’d be asleep before I came inside.

“Is Savannah okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Just shit with April.”

“Makes sense.” She turned her attention back to the screen, dismissing me.

“Might pop to the store. Need anything?”

Ev didn’t even look up. “Nope.”

“Want anything specific for dinner?”

“I’m going to dinner with Lucy tonight.”

“All right.” Another day and evening apart. I sighed, grateful for it.

These past two weeks, the mounting tension had made it nearly impossible to breathe when we were in the same room.

How did I fix this? I would if I had the slightest clue. My first instinct was sex but every time I moved close enough to touch her, she moved away.

Whatever I’d done the day we’d run into my family had pissed her off. Severely. Maybe she was waiting for me to explain my reaction to my parents and brother, but I’d needed some time to work it out myself.

Seeing them had brought back a lot of emotions. A lot of failures, or perceived failures. And real failures too.

I’d needed some space to process, so I’d spent long hours in the studio. Guess I’d taken too much space because now I was getting the silent treatment from my wife.

It couldn’t last forever, right?

We’d work this out. We had a lot of days ahead of us and I wasn’t going to waste them. So I’d give her today. Then tomorrow, I was locking us in the bedroom and working this out.

“Tomorrow, can we—” I started.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

We spoke in unison and I blew out a deep breath. Maybe she was thinking the same thing I was. We had to get this air cleared and move forward.

“Go ahead,” I said.

Her jaw was tight as she clicked through something, searching. She’d overhauled the accounting system but I’d stayed blissfully ignorant of the specifics. She’d explained it to me one night, and I’d let it go in one ear and out the other. Inventory management. Working capital. Balance sheet. Income statement. My accountant would fall at her feet come January.

Everly kept clicking until, finally, she let go of the mouse and looked up. “Would you close the door?”

“Sure.” I did as she asked, then sat on the couch, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

“This isn’t easy.” Her fingers fidgeted on the top of the desk and her eyes kept darting to the screen. What was she looking at? “I, um . . . I need to tell you something. About Katie.”

Katie? I blinked. I thought we were talking about us and this awkward-as-fuck tension in the room.

“Okay,” I drawled.

If this was more of the same bullshit about them getting along, I was going to lock them both in here for a week until they either killed each other or figured out how to get along.

“Hux, I think . . .” Everly swallowed hard. “I think she’s been stealing from you.”

Every muscle in my body tightened. No. Never. Katie was one of the only people in this world I trusted, and she wouldn’t steal. “No.”

She held up a hand. “Will you let me explain?”

“Fine,” I grumbled. There was an explanation but whatever Everly thought she’d found was wrong. Katie wouldn’t steal from me.

“I got a call from a customer yesterday. It was the lady you did the piece for, the one without the blue.”

My lip curled. “Oh. Her.”

“Normally Katie answers the phone, but it was busy in the showroom and it rang through from the front so I answered it.”

“You should have let it go to voicemail like I always do.”

“Well, I didn’t.” She pulled in a long breath like she was fighting to keep calm.

That made two of us.

My hands were balled into fists because this entire misunderstanding was a waste of time.

“The woman wanted to commission another piece,” she said. “She wanted you to do the same size and style as the piece you did for her friend. An elk in a forest.”

“Okay?” How the hell did any of this equal stealing?

“Well, I didn’t know what friend, so I asked for the friend’s name so I could track down which painting it was. Only I couldn’t replace any record of her friend in the system.”

“Did you ask Katie?”

“No.” She frowned. “No, I didn’t. Because I’ve been working for over a month so that I wouldn’t have to ask Katie every little thing. It’s why all your pieces get put into the inventory records. Why every deposit links to a painting. I should have been able to replace this purchase.”

“Just because you can’t replace it, doesn’t mean she’s stealing. Christ.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “How could you accuse her of that?”

Everly’s eyes flashed, but she flattened her palms on the desk—my desk—and kept talking. “There are discrepancies in your deposits. I’ve found them over the past four years. Paintings that should have been sold for more than the deposits show.”

“And I told you, Katie negotiates. She has the authority to do that.”

Everly winced. “And I don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” The harsh truth was she’d been working here for a month. Katie had been with me for years.

“The friend paid online. Through PayPal,” Everly continued. “And she just emailed me a screenshot that shows the transaction.”

“Your point?”

“It’s not in your PayPal account. It’s not in the bank. Why?”

“How the fuck should I know? You have to ask Katie.”

“I’m not asking Katie!” Everly shot out of the chair. “There are paintings missing. Ones I swear I had in the storage room that are gone.”

“So that means she’s taking them? For fuck’s sake, Ev, don’t you think that’s a pretty big accusation? You didn’t even ask her. You just assumed she was doing something to screw me over. She’s not like that. Katie wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Things don’t add up.” She threw her arms in the air. “What if she took a painting and sold it on the side? The system doesn’t lie. They should be there. Let me show you how it works. Can I show you?”

“No.” I stood, shaking my head. “No, I’m not doing this.”

“But—”

“No!” I roared. “This is bullshit, Ev. It’s total bullshit. You come in here, tear into a bunch of numbers, and instead of giving Katie the chance to help you sort them out, you decide she’s a fucking thief.”

The color drained from her face and those caramel eyes stared at me like I was a stranger. “You don’t believe me.”

“No, I don’t fucking believe you.”

She jerked and whatever pain was in her eyes turned to fury. “I have never done anything but help you. I have never been anything but honest. And no matter what I do, you don’t trust me.”

“We barely know each other.”

Another flinch. Another flash in those eyes. And then the emotion . . . vanished. Her shoulders sagged. Her expression turned hopeless.

And I knew in that moment, there would be no discussion. They’re be no fixing us.

This thing between us was over.

“I want a divorce,” she whispered.