Page 22 of First Date: Divorce (Wyoming Marriage Association #1)

When Cully called the building that Marriage-Save leased a historic railroad hotel, K.D. envisioned a four-square brick building.

She’d known otherwise from the floorplans he’d shown them. Still, the long, narrow white-frame building with dormers set into the second and third stories while the roof’s bottom sloped over a wrap-around porch, surprised her.

A cowboy-attired valet took Eric’s vehicle where the drive swept past the building, but left them to deal with their luggage.

After a slight tussle at the bottom of the porch steps — concluded when K.D. growled at Eric, “You would not help me with my bag” — they entered the double front doors.

The reception room was large. Probably even larger than it appeared, with the scale thrown off by a mammoth rock fireplace topped by a deer head mounted over the mantel.

Leather couches, upholstered chairs, and wooden tables created separate seating groups focused on the fireplace or the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows.

A dark-framed stairway that had to be original started up along the right wall, then turned halfway to continue its ascent.

A carved fan overhead marked the turning point.

Beside its base stood a wooden check-in desk that suited another era, complete with what looked to be original pigeonholes. Its glowing wood matched the staircase.

K.D. gave the operators points for achieving a western feel without descending to kitschy.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Larkin. Eric and K.D., how wonderful to meet you in person.”

The cheerful voice came from the vicinity of the reception desk. After reminding herself that it wasn’t suspicious that someone from Marriage-Save recognized them, since they’d emailed photos, K.D. stepped forward.

Eric got there first. He looked over his shoulder at her, quirking an eyebrow that seemed to say this was his duty.

She turned away in an apparent huff for a double benefit — backing their charade and giving her a chance to look around.

Security cameras over the front door. One focused on the entry, the other on the desk.

None on the staircase, possibly exempt because of historic status. Where else—?

“Mrs. Larkin?”

“K.D., this young lady needs your signature.”

Eric’s voice turned her around, belatedly realizing the woman had called her Mrs. Larkin, and she hadn’t responded. She needed to watch that.

“What a lovely room this is,” she said as she signed. That gave her an excuse for her inattention and a more overt look around from this new angle. More cameras in the hallway that disappeared under the staircase.

“It is lovely, isn’t it?” agreed the young woman.

“It’s amazing no one’s ruined the wonderful period feel.

Much of the rest of the building has been renovated, modern amenities, of course, but this area remains as it was when people came through on the railroad.

I think that’s why I like working up front so much.

That and getting to meet such nice people. ”

She gave a brilliant smile, perfectly divided between them. Not even the most jealous wife could complain about it, not even the most philandering husband could build hopes around it.

“Oh, look, Orion, first-timers.”

From behind oversized sunglasses, a woman with her white hair swept across her forehead then turned under at her nape beamed at them while a man of the same vintage and a bit shorter than her followed.

“Welcome to Marriage-Save. We’re Orion and Izzy Rettaford.” He had a white beard trimmed to half an inch, with his hair a bit longer. You here for the weeklong program, the weekend, or the hybrid?”

“The hybrid. That’s all they had.” Eric gave it a nice twist, intimating their problems needed more time, yet he didn’t look forward to staying even that long.

“You’ll love it here.” Mobile lines in the man’s forehead emphasized his words.

“Thanks for the endorsement.” The receptionist smiled even wider as she tapped away at the screen in front of her.

“Wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. We’re repeat customers. Happy to show you the ropes and fill you in if you need.”

“That’s nice of you, but—”

“Good, it’s settled,” Orion said.

“We’ll get you signed in,” said the bubbly receptionist, “then they can show you around. You’ll be working with Melody as your counselor, starting with a session tonight with both of you. She’ll fill you in on the rest of your schedule with her and recommended activities.”

“Recommended? But not mandatory,” K.D. said. A full schedule of activities would put a crimp in her investigating time.

“Oh, you’ll enjoy them,” Izzy said. “If there’s something you truly don’t want to do — one woman was deathly afraid of horses, so riding was out — you can ask your counselor to swap out something else.”

“That’s right.” The receptionist’s smile slipped. “I’m afraid your room isn’t quite ready. If you’d like to relax here in the lounge, I can get you coffee or tea or—”

“We can do better than that,” Orion said. “We’ll get a drink on the patio while we’re showing them around until the room’s ready. C’mon.”

*

The swimming pool and sun deck certainly weren’t from the original period of the building, but they’d used rocks and timbers and beds of native plants to blend them in.

Izzy and Orion proved efficient and informative tour guides, giving them the lay of the land, then returning to the pool with soft drinks all around.

“…and they call them counselors to make it seem more like camp. They’re therapists with all the right degrees. Not bad, either, considering what they have to work with most times. When you’ve been around as long as we have, you can spot which couples will make it and which ones won’t,” Orion said.

“We’re getting faster at it, too,” Izzy added with mild satisfaction. “Used to take us most of the week to feel sure. But after going through the process ourselves so many times, it can be quite easy to spot. There’s serious research into predictors.”

“I’m not half bad, but Izzy’s way better than I am,” her husband said with pride. “She should be doing the counseling.”

“Don’t be silly.” Though it clearly pleased her.

“But if you keep coming back, is that because—?”

Izzy interrupted K.D. with a laugh. “Oh, dear, we should have said. It’s not because the retreat doesn’t work. Not at all. Don’t worry about that for a moment. We enjoy the surroundings and the amenities and the activities—”

“But the counseling sessions—?”

They both chuckled this time. “That might be the best part. How many opportunities do you get to talk to someone who’s hanging on every word — all by yourself or the two of you together.

Listening to our stories and memories and impressions.

Things our kids and friends have heard too many times to even pretend interest in anymore. ”

“Except the ones who don’t remember and it feels wrong to take advantage of them. But here, we’re paying for it, so it’s all fair,” Orion said.

The woman’s expression darkened. “It doesn’t work for everyone, of course, which is sad.”

He placed a hand over hers. “A couple left earlier today with lots of tears, harsh words, including the D-word. Divorce. The Murchisons. He said he’d file as soon as they got home to Sheridan.

They had your room, in fact. That’s why the delay.

They were late getting out because of the drama.

Counselors even tried tag-teaming them, but it didn’t work. ”

“Melody — the one you’ve been assigned to — was so disappointed. You could tell she thought they’d made progress. It’s sad to see these young counselors’ hopes dashed. Besides, sometimes they do have a new insight,” Izzy said kindly. “That’s another reason to keep coming. Keeps the spark going.”

Orion grinned at her and she chuckled lightly. “Yes, it does.”

That had enough subtext that K.D. kept her focus on her drink. Still, it was her job to investigate and that meant asking questions. “The counseling keeps the spark going?”

“Oh, no, dear,” Izzy said. “The sneaking around.”

“Excuse me?”

“Officially, they recommend against having sex during the program. Says abstinence takes the pressure off progress made in counseling, though it sure can add other kinds of pressure,” Orion said. “And unofficially, there are the rumors…”

“What rumors?” Eric asked.

The older couple exchanged a look and appeared to come to an agreement.

He said, “Word is that there are cameras in the rooms. Or audio. Or both.”

“They can’t do that.” K.D. forced an addition to her flat statement to inject uncertainty. “Can they? Aren’t there rules about privacy and such?”

“Mmm. Take a look at the release you signed,” Orion said. “I’m not saying they do or they don’t — not for sure. But that’s what we were told when we started coming by people who’d been through before.”

Izzy leaned forward. “It’s another reason we keep coming back. It’s like being a teenager again, finding the naughtiest places to — you know.”

She looked at her husband and they beamed at each other.

K.D. thought that if she were the kind to blush she’d be turning bright red right now from the intimacy of that look. Or maybe from its blatant joy.

“We warn couples we like,” Izzy added.

“And don’t warn the ones we don’t,” he added with a twinkle. “If they do record and there’s a sudden drop in — let’s call it activity, we don’t want them catching on that we’re the source, so we’re careful not to tell too many. And never when we can be overheard by staff.”

“No uniforms, so how do you tell staff?” Eric asked.

Orion leaned forward. “Watch for people wearing name tags. All the staff have ’em, none of the guests do. That leaves it up to us if we want other guests to know our names or not — first only or the whole she-bang.”

“The name tags don’t have names, though. Just job,” K.D. said. Like Reception for the woman they’d first met and Wait Staff for the young man who’d brought their drinks.

“Good noticing, K.D. We didn’t catch on to that until the second time here.”

“Orion says it’s to save money. One person leaves and they don’t need a new name tag, just pass it on to whoever takes over the job.” Izzy chuckled.

“She is far more ingenious than I am,” he said proudly. “She figured that with some couples coming here over things like infidelity, it cuts down the temptation of trying to seduce a staff member for hanky-panky if you’re calling them Wait Staff .”

“And if a guest does call someone by name it’s noticeable. A give-away the staff member had to tell the guest. Your counselor will tell you his or her name and maybe one or two others, but most don’t. Who knows—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Larkin,” the receptionist called from the doorway. “Your room’s ready now.”