When Ali awakened the next morning, her body felt like it had taken a beating.
“It did,” B. said when she complained to him about it over breakfast in the resort’s dining room. “After a day spent throwing yourself into ditches, dragging yourself through piles of broken glass, and spending hours crammed in a trunk? I’m surprised you can walk.”
“You know what was nice about that whole thing?” Ali asked.
“What?”
“Bullhead City is the end of the known universe as far as the media is concerned. No reporters.”
“You’re right,” B. agreed. “Considering High Noon’s somewhat illicit involvement, I think it’s advantageous.”
They drove B.’s Enterprise rental back home to Sedona, taking their time. When they got as far as Williams, B. turned off and headed for the Grand Canyon.
“Why?” Ali wanted to know.
“Because I want to,” B. said. “Because yesterday, while you were out risking life and limb, I was figuring out what was important. I almost lost you, Ali. It’s one way of getting a guy’s undivided attention. So now I’ve got some debts to repay, except they’re mostly not repayable.”
“Stuart Ramey, for one?” Ali asked.
“Yup,” B. said. “You’ve got it. He went way out on a limb yesterday, and if it hadn’t been for his working like crazy in the background, there’s no way we would have found you in time for Leland Brooks to knock Barry Handraker senseless before he managed to finish you off.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“You mean what are we going to do about it?” B. asked. “Stu’s already earning top dollar. I’ll no doubt give him another raise, but what’s he going to do to enjoy it? The man spends his whole life-morning, noon, and night-sitting in front of a computer screen. I asked him, if he could go anywhere on the planet, where would it be? And guess what? He said he’s always wanted to go to Paris, to the Louvre. So I’m sending him on a compulsory vacation. Three weeks. First class. All expenses paid.”
“Does Stuart speak French?” Ali asked.
“Not a word, so I’ll be making arrangements for him to have his own personal guide.”
There was another short pause. “Let me guess,” Ali said. “The next debt is to Leland Brooks.”
“Yup. Big-time.”
“What’s your idea there?”
“You told me about his invitation to that family reunion. I can understand after so many years of being separated from his family, his reluctance for the initial contact to be at a huge cattle-call family event that has the potential for turning into an over-the-top circus. So how about if, sometime between now and Christmas, you use my frequent-flier miles and take him across the pond? That way he’ll have you there to rent a car and do the driving. I have it on good authority that UK car-rental companies won’t rent to anyone his age, so he’ll have a nonfamily member there to run interference for him. If his relatives turn out to be a bunch of homophobic bigots, you can drag him out of the fray and bring him home.”
Ali nodded. “And making contact now will put him in a lot better place to decide whether he’s going to the family reunion come next summer.”
“Exactly,” B. said.
They fell quiet after that, lost in their own thoughts. Ali was thinking about how, the previous day, B. and Stuart Ramey had risked everything they had worked for over the years in order to save her from what was, essentially, a bit of her own foolishness. She never should have gone to see a homicide suspect on her own. But B. and Stuart had stepped up. Together they had put everything on the line. Yes, Stuart had been the one with his fingers on the keyboard, but he had done it with B.’s full knowledge and encouragement.
Given all of that, her previous objections to marrying B. Simpson seemed downright petty. Maybe, she thought, after turning him down so many times, I’ll have to do the proposing.
Those were the thoughts running through her head as they headed north toward the Grand Canyon, but she didn’t say any of them aloud. When they got to Bright Angel Lodge, Ali was surprised to learn that on this supposedly spur-of-the-moment side trip, they had a luncheon reservation. As B. helped her from the car to the door, Ali worried that her bandaged bare feet would consign them to the “no shoes no service” side of the universe. It didn’t happen. Their reserved table next to the restaurant’s massive windows gave them a spectacular and unobstructed view of the canyon.
When it came time for dessert, Ali tried to turn it down, but B. insisted on sharing a slice of pumpkin cheesecake. Halfway through, Ali’s fork ran into something surprisingly solid. When she pulled out the offending item, it turned out to be an amazing diamond solitaire.
“How did you manage this?” she asked, dipping the ring in her water glass and rubbing it clean with her napkin.
“I already had the ring picked out,” B. admitted. “I called the jeweler in Flagstaff first thing this morning and asked him to drive it over. I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but that’s too far away. Yesterday I almost lost you. I couldn’t believe how much it hurt. If you had ended up in a hospital somewhere, badly hurt or dying, I wouldn’t even have had the right to see you. Please marry me, Ali. It’s time.”
For a moment she didn’t answer him. She was too busy fussing with the ring. When it was properly dried, she slipped it on her finger.
“You’re right,” she said. “It is time.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile, leaning over to give him a light peck on the cheek. “That’s definitely a yes.”