“Well.”
Lena sighed.
“Don't.”
“He kissed you.”
Lena turned sharply.
“How do you know?”
“You looked at him like a woman who's been kissed.”
“What does that look like?”
“Annoyed.”
Lena laughed.
The Denver investor arrived the next morning.
Mr. Lowell was polished, intelligent, and serious.
His restaurant plan impressed her.
Large kitchen.
Rail travelers.
Bread service.
Pies.
Stews.
Breakfast.
He offered nine hundred fifty dollars after tasting her potato loaf.
Then something unexpected.
“Eventually partnership.”
Lena stared.
“What?”
“If business succeeds.”
He showed projections.
Her name could appear on the menu.
Possibly the sign.
Lena’s Bakery and Dining Room.
A dream she had not allowed herself to imagine.
That night, she barely slept.
Black Ridge.
Denver.
Nathaniel.
A career independent of any man.
She knew immediately that choosing Nathaniel simply because she loved him would frighten her later.
She needed to know she could walk away.
Only then could staying become real.
The next morning Lena accepted the Denver position.
Martha stared.
“You love him.”
Lena froze.
“I did not say that.”
“You didn't need to.”
“Then why should I stay?”
Martha smiled.
“You shouldn't.”
Lena stared.
Martha continued.
“You should go.”
“Build the restaurant.”
“Earn money.”
“Find out what you are without Black Ridge.”
“And if you still want the wolfskin fool after that…”
She shrugged.
“Road runs both directions.”
Lena laughed through tears.
Nathaniel took the news quietly.
Too quietly.
She told him in a letter.
He appeared in Cedar Hollow two days later.
Walked into Barker’s store.
Found Lena.
“You're going.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“When?”
“Monday.”
“Good.”
She glared.
“Do not say good.”
He almost smiled.
“I’m trying.”
“To what?”
“Be a man you'd want to come back to.”
That destroyed her.
Lena stepped closer.
People watched.
She did not care.
She kissed him.
Right there beside sacks of flour and horseshoes.
Martha applauded.
Nathaniel pulled away, embarrassed.
Lena smiled.
“I’m still going.”
“I know.”
“Do not follow me immediately.”
“How long is immediately?”
“Three months.”
His expression became wounded.
“One.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“Fine.”
He smiled.
“Negotiable.”
“Dangerous word.”
She left for Denver Monday morning.
The restaurant opened six weeks later.
It succeeded.
Not immediately.
The first month was chaos.
Burned soup.