“Nice.” Angelina nodded approvingly. “What will you do with it?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? It depends on whether or not I’m getting married.”

  Angelina led the way to the fireside room. There were still a few coals lit in the fireplace, and Angelina added a couple of sticks of wood on top of them, then pulled two chairs up close to the hearth.

  Upstairs, the sound of the young men’s laughter and talking was faint, and Angelina sank into the armchair next to Elizabeth.

  “You know, I thought the very idea of being a politician’s wife was stupid for all of my adolescence,” Elizabeth went on. “But then I met Brad, and I fell for him. His family is very political, and he’s got several uncles in politics. His grandfather was a senator. He wants to be president one day.”

  “And you want to be First Lady,” Angelina presumed.

  “I don’t know. Not really. But if that’s where Brad’s headed, there are worse places to land.”

  “For Brad it’s worth it?” Angelina asked.

  “Definitely.” But Elizabeth’s voice didn’t match the enthusiasm of her reply.

  “Well...I’m happy for you, then.”

  Elizabeth leaned forward and put her hands toward the fire.

  “What did he say to upset you tonight?” Angelina asked.

  “Oh, it was stupid, really,” she replied. “He was talking about getting a new apartment once we all graduate, and what he was going to do. No mention of me in his plans.”

  “Didn’t use the word we once, huh?” Angelina asked.

  “Oh, he did, but only in reference to him and his buddies getting together for monthly poker games,” she said with a sigh. “He’s like that, though. He won’t talk about his feelings with his friends around. What guy does, right?”

  “Hmm.” Angelina watched the blaze. “Politicians’ wives can have careers of their own, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “So...if you were to have one, what would it be?” Angelina asked.

  “That’s the problem. I thought I wanted to teach high school biology,” she replied. “Or I could go on for a PhD and get into research. My sister became a veterinarian.”

  “Do you have the grades for that?” Angelina asked curiously.

  “Oh, I have the grades,” Elizabeth said, shooting her a wry smile. “I just don’t know what I would want to pursue, and if I don’t know that, I might as well take the next step forward in my personal life, you know?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Brad always said he wanted to get married the year after he graduated his bachelor’s degree. It’s good timing, politically speaking. A married man gives the impression of being more stable.”

  Angelina looked over at her. “So...just being married? The right woman doesn’t factor in here?”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth’s gaze moved up to the ceiling. “It takes a real shark to rise in politics, and Brad is definitely a shark.”

  Angelina knew a thing or two about well-positioned families, and looking at this young woman—a little younger than she’d been when she met Ben—she felt a wave of maternal protectiveness. Elizabeth thought she was ever so grown-up, and legally speaking, she was certainly an adult. After three years of dating this young “shark,” she should know what she was getting into...but then, did anyone?

  “Are you a shark, too?” Angelina asked.

  Elizabeth laughed. “No. Not at all. I leave all the carnage to him.”

  “Do you get along with his family?”

  “His parents love me.” Elizabeth moved her hair away from her face. “I think his dad thinks I’m more wonderful than Brad does! He tells Brad not to lose me, because I’m utterly irreplaceable.”

  “That’s sweet,” Angelina said with a smile.

  “And his mom is great. She sometimes comes to Denver and takes me out for lunch and a pedicure or something,” Elizabeth went on. “You know, she’s the one who told me that I really bring out the best in Brad. I make him kinder and more considerate.”

  So this was the best version there was of the young man... But Angelina could see what would draw a young woman in. He was good-looking, from a wealthy family and confident. Many a mediocre man had gone for miles on those characteristics alone.

  “What did Brad take in school?” Angelina asked.

  “Political science.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “With a minor in criminology. He’s really passionate about the prison system. He wants to see it reformed.”

  “Oh, that’s a positive thing,” Angelina said.

  “He’s brilliant, you know,” Elizabeth said, looking toward Angelina. “He’s smart. I know he hides it well on vacation—trust me, I know how he comes across. But under that party boy exterior beats a really patriotic heart. He wants to make our country better for our children.”

  “I was married to a man who was from a very wealthy family,” Angelina said softly. “And it was hard. Really hard. I think you might have it easier because Brad’s parents like you, but I didn’t have my in-laws’ good opinion to start with, and the pressure was too much.”

  “What happened?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Oh...it’s a long story,” Angelina said. It was also a story protected by a nondisclosure agreement. “But suffice to say, we didn’t last. The thing is, it’s easy to lose yourself in all the expectations and the demands on you. Be careful not to make that mistake.”

  “Oh, I won’t,” Elizabeth said, but her expression grew more sober. “So are you single?”

  “Yes, I am,” Angelina replied.

  “It must be lonely. Do you miss being married?” Elizabeth asked.

  Angelina was silent for a moment. “Marriage was far more complicated than I realized going into it. I have this group of friends who all went through a divorce, and the one thing we all missed the most was that younger, optimistic version of ourselves. I really loved my ex-husband, but I’m happy single, too. Once I was on my own, I could get back to things I’m passionate about...like this resort.”

  “This is a really beautiful location,” Elizabeth said. “You’re the general manager, right? How long have you worked here?”

  “Sweetie, I own it.”

  Elizabeth blinked. “Oh!”

  Angelina smiled. “The general manager is at home with his family right now. No, I’m the one who looked at an old hunting lodge and thought that with some wood refinishing and some beveled glass, something beautiful was possible.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to underestimate you,” Elizabeth said. “This is a really amazing resort.”

  “Thank you,” Angelina replied. “I appreciate it. If you have any ideas of how to improve things for a guest, just let me know.”

  “It’s perfect the way it is,” Elizabeth replied.

  Upstairs, footfalls creaked down the hallway. A faint voice called, “Betsy?”

  Angelina looked over at Elizabeth. The young woman sighed.

  “Betsy?” Angelina asked.

  “It’s what Brad calls me. It’s a private joke—” She shrugged. “He thinks it sounds more like a senator’s wife.”

  “Betsy?” The voice came from the direction of the main staircase now, and he sounded worried. “Where are you?”

  Brad came around the counter into the fireside room. He wore a pair of jeans and a football jersey. His wavy blond hair was tousled, and his glittering gaze raked over the room and landed on Elizabeth.

  “What are you doing down here?” he demanded.

  “I’m surprised you noticed,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yeah, well, I did. So what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” Elizabeth rose to her feet. “I’m glad to be missed.” She turned to Angelina. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t catch your name...”

  “Angelina,” she replied.

  Brad reached for her hand and tugged Elizabeth against him. He looked down at her with a possessive gaze, and then glanced up at Angelina.

  “Oh, and we need new towels up there,” Brad said. “If you could bring some, that would be great.”

  Elizabeth nudged him. “Brad...”

  “And I know you said the kitchen is closed, but we’ll pay for it. We need pizza,” Brad added. “And wings, too.”

  “The kitchen is closed until breakfast,” Angelina replied. “You can use the bar fridge for snacks.”

  “You can’t just...whip something up?” Brad asked, and he shot her a hopeful smile. “We’re pretty hungry, and some macadamia nuts aren’t going to cut it.”

  This was a young man used to being obeyed, and as Angelina eyed him, she was reminded of the young man who’d swept her off her feet when she was only a few years older than Elizabeth was now. Brad and Ben had the same confidence that all would go the way they dictated.

  “Brad, she’s the owner,” Elizabeth said, raising her voice.

  “I know who she is.” He paused a moment. “So where are we on the pizza and wings?”

  Elizabeth blanched, and Angelina chuckled. This was a power play. Brad had decided that she was below him.

  “I strongly suggested that you all relocate to Denver for this storm. You chose to stay. The pizza and wings are in Denver. I suggest you make do with the macadamia nuts and get up nice and early for a hearty breakfast.”

  She watched conflicted feelings flicker across his handsome features. He wasn’t used to being told where to get off, she could tell, and his expression went from irritation to mildly impressed. He landed on the latter and shot her a rueful smile.

  “Okay, okay,” Brad said. “We’ll behave. Thanks for entertaining Betsy here.” He gave Elizabeth a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s watch that movie you wanted to see. I’ll kick the guys out.”

  The couple headed out of the fireside room arm in arm. Angelina could hear their soft voices heading back up the main staircase. Once upon a time, she’d been just as naive and hopeful as Elizabeth was, and her heart had been at the mercy of a wealthy, handsome man, too.

  Ben had been right to hide his wealthy family from her until after the elopement, because if she’d known exactly how powerful his family had been, if she’d had a brain cell left in her head that wasn’t soggy with dopamine, she would have insisted on a much longer engagement at the very least.

  Angelina couldn’t judge young love. She’d been there before. All she could hope was that it went better for Elizabeth than it had for her.

  * * *

  BEN WOKE UP the next morning to the low moaning of the wind outside. The room was warm, though, and when he tossed his covers and went over to the window, he could see the faint outline of mountain peaks through the blowing snow.

  The blizzard hadn’t let up, and the lacy fingers of frost spread from the edges of the window. He stood there for a moment, searching his memory for more information than he’d fallen asleep with. He’d finally drifted off last night with the vague hope that a solid rest would improve matters inside his own skull.

  “Who am I?” he murmured aloud, hoping for an answer to spring to mind that was more than the words of other people. There was nothing.

  When was his life going to come back to him? Facing hour after hour without his memory was exhausting. The constant effort to remember, even if he didn’t realize he was trying to do so, was draining. And yet, here he was in a mountain resort with a storm howling outside his window, and nothing better to do with himself than to try.

  He picked up his phone and looked down at it. No bars. No connection... He could see the phone calls he’d received over the last couple of weeks—some just numbers, some with names attached. One that came regularly, every couple of days, was listed as Dad.

  His texts weren’t terribly enlightening, either. The texts from his father tended to be things like “Call me” or “What’s your ETA?” Apparently, there wasn’t a lot discussed via text with his father. The other messages seemed to be work related—questions about reports or meetings. One woman, though—Hilaria—texted more personal things...

  I still love you. Are we doing the right thing here in calling off the wedding?

  Why are you so cruel to me? We want the same things! Can’t that be enough for you?

  I’m not talking to you right now, Ben. You’re being impossible. Your mother is right—I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.

  Is this about your ex-wife? Honestly, Ben, get Angelina out of your system already. You know exactly why it didn’t work, and you’re ruining a good thing here.

  It was more of the same. He didn’t see any responses from himself. Maybe he called her and spoke on the phone, instead? This was like scrolling through a stranger’s phone. Hilaria was just a name, someone he didn’t have a mental image of. But apparently his ex-fiancée thought he had some unresolved feelings about Angelina.

  Ben looked through his phone and found a number under the name Angie. He checked for texts—there were none.

  Angie... Did he remember something about her? It was just the shine of golden hair. Was that an actual memory, or just his thoughts surrounding the woman he’d met when he stumbled into this lodge? He couldn’t tell. She’d told him they got divorced over a decade ago. Angelina didn’t seem to be holding any torch for him. Maybe his feelings had been one-sided.

  His stomach rumbled and he looked down at his watch. It was almost eight. He’d head downstairs and see if he could order breakfast. And maybe he’d see Angelina, as well. He had to admit that he was hoping to. She was his one connection to the life he couldn’t remember, and she was both beautiful and likable.

  Yeah, maybe Hilaria had had a point. Even with his memory addled, he seemed to be drawn to Angelina.

  Ben pulled on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved grey Henley shirt that had seen better days. In the mirror he looked downright rustic. His boots were dry now, and he found a pair of socks in the pile of clothes Angelina had given him, and it felt good to pull his cowboy boots back on. His black hat lay on the little writing desk, and he picked it up, rolling it around between his palms.

  Did he remember this hat? He felt like he did. He remembered the feel of it, the slight weight of it. He put it on his head and it felt like it completed his face, somehow.

  “That’s a memory...” he murmured. Sort of. It was the best he had so far.

  He took the hat off and tossed it onto the desk again. He knew exactly how hard to throw it to have it land in the center. A man’s hat felt like a personal thing.

  He headed out of his room and pocketed the key. There was a do-not-disturb sign put on one of doors that Ben passed, and as he headed down that main staircase, he felt a surge of anticipation for some breakfast. He wanted eggs Benedict and a cup of hot coffee with cream and sugar. The mental image was so sharp that it startled him. Strange, the detailed memories that had somehow dug in. If only he could reach the rest in his head.

  The dining room was nearly empty, except for a table at the far side of the room next to a window. Angelina sat with a teacup in front of her, dressed more casually in a pair of jeans and a pale pink cowl-necked sweater. She looked softer, somehow, more approachable than she had before. He looked down at his own clothing—maybe he was more approachable than usual, too.

  He wound his way around the tables, and when he got to hers, Angelina looked up.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning.” He pulled out a chair, not waiting for the invitation.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “You mean, how much do I remember?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Exactly.” She met his gaze frankly.

  “Nothing more,” he said. “Unless you count a fondness for my hat. I seem to remember that hat.”

  She smiled faintly. “I don’t think that counts.”

  “Well, then...” He shrugged. “I’m still at your mercy.”

  “Do you want breakfast?” she asked, and she beckoned to a server.

  “Joel, I’ll have oatmeal, wheat toast and a bowl of yoghurt,” Angelina said, then turned to Ben. “What will you have?”

  “Can I get eggs Benedict?” he asked.

  “Yes, not a problem,” Joel replied.

  “And coffee—cream and sugar,” Ben added.

  “Right away, sir.”

  Joel disappeared and Ben noticed Angelina’s attention was fixed on him in a rather pointed way. He shot her a curious look.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You always ordered the same thing for breakfast. I guess that hasn’t changed.”

  “I seem to remember really liking it.” He paused for a moment. He had other questions that were more pressing than his breakfast preferences. “Is Hilaria my ex-fiancée?”

  Angelina’s composure faltered a little. He’d surprised her.

  “Uh—” She nodded. “Yes. Hilaria Bell. You were engaged for about six months. Are you remembering her?”

  “No, I was reading my texts,” he confessed. “And she had some real thoughts about you.”

  “Me?” Angelina’s eyebrows went up. “Why?”

  “We were married,” he said.

  “Thirteen years ago,” she replied. “That’s a lot of water under the bridge.”

  He nodded. “I know. And again, I have no memory of this stuff. I’m just going by her texts. She seemed to think...” He watched Angelina’s face for some confirmation. “She seemed to think there was something between us still.”

  “Why?” she asked bluntly.

  “Was there?” he asked. “She seemed to think that me breaking off the engagement was about you.”

  Angelina let out a slow breath, then shook her head. “She’s wrong.”

  “Okay, I’m willing to believe that,” he said. “But what would give her that impression? You said I came to tell you about the engagement...obviously you and I had some connection still.”