Page 86 of All We Carry Home

I grabbed my small black handbag and hurried to the door, the satin dress as foreign to my skin as the heels were to my feet.

When I drew the door open, my heart went still.

He wore a jet-black suit and had his brown hair styled to the side. His mouth fell open as his eyes pored over my appearance. “You look . . .” he said, his voice fading.

“Horribly impractical,” I said, closing the door behind me. “Cheryl insisted I wear it.”

He closed his gaping lips and cleared his throat. “Well, practicality aside, you look beautiful.” He offered me an arm.

I took it, surprised by how right it felt.

No, I couldn’t think such things. I needed to keep my distance—though the fight might be futile. Warren had become an integral part of my world, and I couldn’t even picture the ranch without him there. Peter followed him and idolized him. Eddie hadn’t consumed alcohol since that day we’d found him at the bar.

Warren was our rock.

He still hadn’t been clear on his plans or how long he planned to live out of the Geiser Grand. The weekly bill had to be horrendous. We’d discussed him moving into the apartment of the barn or one of the cabins, but he worried about the perception after Victor’s earlier attempt to cast a shadow of impropriety on our working relationship. He’d also been vague but firm that he’d one day need to return to Philadelphia and wanted the on-site accommodations to go to the soldiers who might stay more long-term.

He led me to his truck, and we drove to the large banquet hall. He glanced at me often during the drive. I suppose it was like seeing a duck wearing a skirt. I’d never paid any attention to my appearance aside from the hair and dress regulations in the nurse corps or the theatrical makeup of show days. The only other dress I’d ever worn had been at a school dance that I’d snuck out to with Keith.

My stomach sank at the thought of seeing him tonight.

That distracted me until we reached the banquet hall. Small lights and gold foil decor filled the room, and tall windows overlooked the city. Seattle was a mix of brick buildings and neon signs all packed into the narrow streets along the dark waters of the Puget Sound. The shipyards and airplane manufacturers had left the area in a haze of post-war resettling and half-abandoned industrial lots.

Warren leaned in. “I prefer Beacon’s Bluff.”

“Me too.”

“You made it!” Cheryl rushed over in a flurry of black velvet, and she kissed me on both cheeks and then Warren as well.

Her husband, Lewis, walked up and I introduced him. Cheryl looked between us, and her gaze lingered on my arm looped through Warren’s. I dropped my arm and stepped away.

“I’m glad I caught you both,” she said. “From what I hear, you’re still looking for that little gray mare from Poland. Mira?”

My heart leapt.

“Rumor is that she and a few other Janów horses will be sold at auction in Scottsdale on the 24th.”

Just over a week from now. I looked at Warren and saw the same spark in his eyes.

“Sounds like we’ll need to check that out,” he said.

The 24th was a bit close to regionals, but this was Mira. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to find her.

Someone waved to Cheryl from across the room, and she floated away.

I smiled at Warren. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we found her?”

“Will we be bidding against each other this time?”

“I hope not.” I sighed. “I can’t afford that game.”

He led me to a table set with ornate cutlery and dishware. “Perhaps we each go in halfway? She stays at Birkstrom, but I have shared ownership in her future progeny?”

A long-term business arrangement? I liked that idea a lot. I knew he was trying to preserve my pride by offering to split the cost of Mira, since I hadn’t any funds to spare. My limbs went numb and my heart raced at the thought of such an arrangement. That meant no matter what he did at home in Philly, he’d have a reason to come back.

We sat at the table, and an elder couple took seats across from us a few moments later.

“Mrs. Hartford, Mr. Hartford,” I said, recognizing the owners of a stables near the Canadian border.