By hiding the damage, he hoped to ease whatever remorse she may have felt. It was just a shirt, and he was heading home anyway to take a shower and do a load of laundry.
He placed the coffee in a cup holder and backed his truck out of the parking lot. It wasn’t his plan to get coffee this late in the day, but he had to make a quick stop at the general store for a carton of milk and needed a hot drink after working outside in the rain.
As he pulled away from the café, he noted the vehicles parked outside. He was familiar with all the owners, except for one: a silver Toyota Camry. The Camry must belong to the young woman in the shop. Rick chuckled as he imagined Patsy now talking non-stop to her new captive customer, peppering her with questions. At least he escaped the place with the excuse that he had to get home and change. From what he gathered, Patsy’s fresh victim was newly arrived to town and about to learn firsthand what small town gossip was like.
He grabbed his coffee and took a sip. It was the right temperature. In all his years living in Lemon Grove, Patsy never got his order wrong. He would never get a cup of coffee like this in the city. The city lacked personalized service and seemed to consist only of popular chains with high prices and standard recipes. In a small town, café staff understood how to craft a coffee that catered to the customer, and they brewed his coffee how he liked it.
Rick drove past the campground and turned onto the highway. It was quiet in Lemon Grove, and his choice to move away from the city five years ago, despite his family’s protests, made him proud. They never understood his need for solitude when they craved the city nightlife. He argued that since it was possible to do his job remotely, he could work from anywhere, and trade in his view of concrete high-rises for trees and mountains.
They had come around to the idea when he agreed to allow them to use his property now and then as a summer vacation home. During their visits, the cabin was no longer his place of solitude, but sharing it with them brought peace to the family and it was peace he desired. The absence of their favorite urban amenities in Lemon Grove meant his family never stayed long. But it was the simpleness of Lemon Grove that Rick preferred.
Still, no matter how hard Rick tried to escape from the world of business, it had a way of finding him. Today was no different. As he pulled up in front of his home, he groaned. Most days, the sight of his dark blue, two-story home brought him joy. It was the sight of Robert Fletcher’s black pickup truck parked by the pathway leading to his front door that made him wish he wasn’t home.
Rick parked his old truck beside his unwanted guest’s vehicle and glanced through the window. The truck was empty. He grumbled under his breath. Robert had no right to be wandering around his property uninvited, and it wasn’t the first time he came here acting like he already owned the place. While he had bought up multiple houses on this stretch of road, Rick had no intention of letting Robert get his hands on the cabin. His long-term residence would never become part of some money-hungry resort owner’s empire. If Robert wanted to expand Lemon Eagle Resort, he should do it in another direction.
Rick slammed his truck door and stomped around the back of his home. There were no signs of the man. At least Rick knew he had locked his home, and Robert wasn’t interested in the cabin itself. Robert wanted the land and would knock down anything that didn’t fit the resort aesthetic.
Had this been winter, Rick would have been able to track Robert’s footprints in the snow, but in summer there were few signs of the direction he had headed. Rick looked at the bed of pine needles littered across the acres of land extending out from the back of his yard. There was talk of Robert Fletcher planning to develop a golf course near Lemon Grove. The only property standing in the way of his vision was Rick’s. The thought of the trees protecting his home being ripped from the ground to make room for a fairway made his stomach churn.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sell the place?” Robert Fletcher stepped out from behind a tree with his cell phone in hand. “I’ve told you, I will give you a good price.”
Rick stood in place. “We’ve been over this, Robert. I’m not interested.” He watched as the man approached him with his typical sales agent smile slapped across his face. It wasn’t genuine. Robert was a man who smiled only to get what he wanted and treated everyone else around him like dirt when they had nothing to offer him.
Robert looked out of place standing among the trees dressed in a midnight black business suit. This was a backyard in Lemon Grove, not some executive conference room.
“With what I’m willing to offer, you would have the money to buy an even larger place in the next town over. Buy a penthouse in the city if you wanted.”
Rick shook his head. This man didn’t know him at all. “Why would I trade a place in Lemon Grove for the top floor of some cement block?”
Robert raised his hands. “Hey, it was only a suggestion. Do what you want with the money.”
“I’m not accepting any offers.”
“At least consider—”
“Robert, we’ve been through this enough. First the letters, then the phone calls…”
“You have to admit, I’m persistent.” The laugh in his voice was still an attempt to charm Rick into a sale.
Coming from a business family, Rick saw through the sales tricks. He was not about to fall for some smooth talker pretending to be his friend. He took a step back toward his truck, hoping Robert would take the hint he was being escorted back to the driveway.
“Rick, I’d like to show you something.” Robert headed back toward the trees, never once looking back to see if Rick was following him.
Rick glanced over his shoulder toward the front of his house and sighed. He would not get rid of Robert as quickly as he hoped. In order to get Robert to leave, Rick would have to hear him out.
He followed Robert deeper into the trees to where Rick had allowed the underbrush to grow in thick. There was only so much property he maintained as a yard and the rest he allowed to grow wild. There was no need to interfere with nature. The animals did a good enough job keeping down the underbrush growth, and he enjoyed seeing the animals visit his yard.
Robert stopped and plucked a leaf from a bush before turning back to face Rick. “Can’t even see your place that well from here, can you?”
Rick shrugged his shoulders. “That’s the point.”
“I thought you’d say that. A property of this size is difficult to maintain. You’ve only cleared the land up to here.”
“It’s how I like it.”
Robert shook his head. “So, you like your cabin surrounded by a fire hazard?”
“It’s called the forest, Robert.”
“If you are going to live in the forest, you need to be responsible. You can’t leave all this underbrush around. It will cause everything to go up in flames one day. Have you seen what is happening up north?”
Rick had seen the news reports. Wildfires, started by lightning strikes, were burning east of Lints and threatened at least twenty properties.
“And it has been burning out of control ever since,” Robert said. “Imagine if those folks had taken care of their land…”
“Cutting everything down isn’t the answer. We’d have no forests anywhere if that was the case.” This conversation had gone on long enough. “I know what you’re going to say, Robert, and I—”
“Hear me out.” Robert raised his hand and turned back to face the unkempt forest. “I respect a man who wants to live out here. My father was much like you, Rick. He bought his small piece of property to get away from the big city, and it was only after he and my mother missed having people around that they opened it up to visitors. They started with one or two tenting sites and built it up from there, adding space for trailers and then the cabins.” Rick stared at the top of the trees. With Robert’s back turned, he couldn’t see Rick’s complete disinterest in what he was saying. “People came and they continue to come even today. We are seeing the next generation bringing their families to experi
ence Lemon Grove. Don’t you want them to experience this place?”
Rick stifled a laugh. “You will tear this place down to expand the resort.”
Robert turned in place. His smile remained plastered on his face but was a little more crooked than before. “No, no, no. I’m not sure where you got the impression that I was going to tear down the forest. We would have to do some pruning—”
“Is that what you call it when you rip roots from the ground?”
“Have you seen how many trees I plant on my property?”
“Those are decorative trees. They will never reach the same height, and you don’t plant nearly as many trees as you remove.”
Robert shifted his weight and discarded the leaf. “That’s not true, Rick.” He scrolled through his cell phone and held it up, turning the screen to Rick. “Look at this map.” It was a rough drawing of the land between the resort and Lemon Grove. Robert had marked Rick’s property with a red line outlining the place where they were standing to the southernmost part of his acreage and marked the area surrounding the cabin with a blue border. “What I am proposing is the purchase of your land from this point onward. You would keep your home and the land it sits on, along with a nice two acres to block out any views to your home. We would use this land as recreation for our guests.”
“You mean to use it to develop your golf course.”
“Not all of it.” Robert cleared the screen and tucked his phone in his pocket. “A lot of it would remain as is, especially surrounding the course. Golf courses always need a rough.”
“The rest of the land. What would you do with it?”
Sensing Rick might consider his offer, Robert’s smile grew wider. “Good of you to ask. We are considering constructing a few cabins and short-term camping sites.” Robert spotted the disapproval building on Rick’s face and quickened his voice. “We’re not talking about tall buildings here. They would be one, maybe two-stories high, and only four bedrooms. They would hardly be visible.”
“And if you were to change your mind after you purchased the property?”
Robert shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m an entrepreneur, Rick. Do you want to do business with me, or not?”
“My answer remains the same.”
Robert shook his head and walked past Rick toward his truck, bumping his shoulder against Rick’s arm as he passed. “You’re making a mistake. This deal would give us both what we want.”
“You’re talking like I want to sell.” He followed behind Robert, not to continue the conversation but to watch him leave. It was days like this that made Rick consider installing a gate at the entrance to his driveway. It would keep Robert and his business team from inviting themselves onto his property, which was becoming a monthly occurrence.
“You have to sell eventually, Rick. Why not sell when you can get a good price and afford another property to replace it with?”
Rick had invested his own time and money into this place without intention of ever selling. He planned to retire here one day and enjoy the simple life he had found in Lemon Grove. It was an excellent location, and he knew everyone in town. The thought of moving someplace new and starting over didn’t excite him. And that wasn’t even considering what might happen to the town if Robert Fletcher got his way.
“I don’t think anywhere else could replace Lemon Grove.”
Robert laughed as he opened the door to his truck. He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Rick. It wasn’t the first envelope Robert had given him, and Rick knew what he would find inside. Out of politeness, he took it and held it to his side.
“I’m ready to take your call whenever you change your mind,” Robert said with a twinkle in his eye.
“I won’t.”
“You will.” Robert winked. He turned his truck around and kicked up dirt as he drove toward the highway.
Rick sighed and slid his foot over the gravel, covering the tracks left behind from Robert’s truck. Some would consider him a fool for turning down Robert’s offer. Namely, his father. Robert had offered $1.2 million six months ago. That number rose to $1.5 million until reaching $2.0 million last month. After he had bought the place for four-hundred thousand three years ago, he stood to make an unimaginable profit.
He tapped the envelope against the side of his leg. There was no point in looking at the new offer. Since the resort was now looking to purchase less land, he expected the number to drop or remain the same. Not that he cared, although allowing Rick to keep his home was a new twist. He wouldn’t have to move and could stay in the community, but would he be able to enjoy his home with resort guests milling about behind a revised property line? Already, the more adventurous types damaged his fence as they strayed from the trails and hiked through his property to reach Lemon Grove. It would only be worse with cabins nearby.
He grabbed his coffee and carton of milk from his truck and started toward the front door. It was time for dinner and he needed a shower. He would not give the offer another thought.
Chapter Four
Molly crawled out of her tent and let the crisp morning air fill her lungs. Dew dampened the ground and the inside of her tent, making her sleeping bag and clothes moist. Heavy fog settled over the campground, concealing her view of the mountains, but yesterday’s storm had moved on, leaving the trees motionless.
With guests still tucked away in their beds, the campground was quiet. Had Molly not awakened this early, she, too, would be curled up inside her warm sleeping bag, but she needed to use the facilities. The early light of dawn lit the surrounding campground. She worried it would still be too dark to see, and with her flashlight in hand, she was ready to make the trip across the road, confident the flashlight was heavy enough to use for defense against human or animal attackers.
Seeing no signs of movement, she crossed the street. The campground remained silent, except for the sound of her feet on the gravel. Triggered by movement as she opened the door, the interior light of the restroom lit up and the ceiling vent roared, circulating the air in the small brick building. The campground staff had done a decent job of keeping the facilities clean. They painted the brick walls white, and the floor was still damp from the staff’s early morning cleaning before campers emerged from their tents. A “wet floor” sign, placed in the center of the room near the sinks, warned guests of the slippery surface.
With no graffiti on the walls of the toilet stalls, either few vandals visited the campground, or fresh paint erased any messages. In her youth, Molly visited campgrounds with scalding or freezing water, so she grinned when the temperature of the tap water in Lemon Grove was neither hot nor cold. It was perfect.
Before leaving, she checked the showers and found no signs of scum or hair, but the showers were coin-operated.
“Fifty cents for three minutes?” Molly gasped. “Are they serious?” Outrageous prices, especially considering she paid thirty dollars a night to place her tent on a patch of gravel. At that price, they should have included hot showers. The owners were clearly making a profit from her and every other guest here.
Molly stepped outside and froze in place. Four brown paws were visible under her car. Her heart raced as she watched the paws pace back and forth along the edge of her tent. It was a light-colored animal and large, but from her position on the opposite side of the car, she couldn't make out its shape. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her flashlight, ready to defend herself from what was sniffing around her site. She kept the restroom door ajar, ready to rush back inside should the animal charge at her.
It didn’t seem interested in the human across the road. Most likely hungry, the animal continued to sniff at the tent as it paced back and forth. Then, she saw its tail. A tall, pointy, wagging tail. Bears didn't have tails like that, especially a light-colored shaggy tail. That was a dog.
Molly tiptoed toward her site to get a better view. Not all dogs were friendly, and she was in no mood to become friends with a loose dog whose
owners should have trained it to remain close.
Her foot tapped against the gravel. Her impatience caught up to her as the dog took its time searching each piece of stone around her site and every inch of fabric of her tent. She wanted to usher it along to allow her back into her own campsite. She had paid for the space, without ever intending to loan it to some stranger’s dog.
“Go home!” Molly pointed toward the road.
The dog lifted its head.
She caught its attention.
The pup wagged its tail and looked in her direction before it headed down the road as she commanded. As Molly stomped toward her tent, the dog paused and turned to watch her cross the road.
“Silly dog,” she mumbled. It was too early to deal with animals, especially out in the middle of the woods. Its owners should have been watching to make sure it stayed in their campsite and not allowed it to roam and pester campers. Had she been inside her tent and heard it sniffing the walls outside, it would have terrified her.
Molly lingered at the end of her campsite to observe the dog wandering down the road. It stopped to sniff the plants and lift its leg on the many stumps and campsite posts along the way. It seemed content enough, not at all concerned by its surroundings. She wanted to experience the same calmness as the dog. Instead, her temper flared. Molly wanted a break from the inconsiderate people she found in the city. She expected to hear a crying child in the campground, but never once thought she’d have to deal with a wandering dog. What if the dog had made a mess in her camping site? Would its owners expect her to pick up after it? She would have to do something if she didn’t want to step in it. Imagine having to clean up after someone else’s dog!
Satisfied the dog had headed back to its owner, she opened the car door to grab a small carton of milk from her cooler, then moved to the trunk to grab a box of cereal, a bowl and a spoon. Dew covered the picnic table, so she opted to stand. She wanted to stretch her legs anyway after sleeping on the hard ground, and standing would also help her remain warm in the cool morning temperatures.
Mountain Getaway Page 3