Corban strode to the sign and gave it a shake. There was a little movement. He tucked his phone into his back pocket and set to work wiggling the post back and forth until it loosened enough for him to tug from the ground. He tossed it aside and tamped the earth back in place. The grass would grow over it eventually.
“Can you take it around back? Maybe lean it on the far side of the shed?” Ruth stood on the front stoop, her arms crossed.
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks. Come on in the kitchen door when you’re done. I just finished a new tea bread and need a taste-tester.”
Tea bread? He hefted the sign up onto his shoulder and started around the house. How was that different from bread? Though the concoctions Ruth put together surpassed anything he’d ever called bread before. Maybe they all had fancy names, too. They were delicious. That’s all that mattered to him.
He dropped the sign beside the shed and dusted off his clothes. He’d showered and changed after being in the fields all morning. So much for looking nicer than he usually managed.
“Thank you, Corban.” Ruth wrapped her arms around his waist as he stepped into the kitchen. “I’m so mad. I yelled at some poor woman who had the misfortune to answer the phone at the real estate agent’s. They’re looking into it and will get back to me. Who would do this?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll get it figured out.” He rubbed her back. Would it soothe her? He’d never seen her this upset. He kissed her forehead. “Where’s Jonah?”
She nestled her head on his shoulder. “He volunteered to take the couple we have staying here into Twin Falls. They didn’t rent a car—I guess they thought we were closer to town than we are. I think he was going to go ziplining while he waited for them to do their rafting trip, even if it meant a little driving back and forth through town. I spent the morning cleaning, and when I came down to start in the kitchen, saw the sign, and I’ve been on the phone, or waiting for calls, since. Thus the tea bread. Oh. Let me get you a slice. Sit down.”
Chuckling under his breath, he sat while Ruth bustled around. “Be honest, okay? You don’t have to like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” Corban sniffed the slice of bread before taking a giant bite. His eyes watered as he chewed. “It’s...interesting. Can I have some water?”
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Ruth sighed as she crossed to the tap to fill a glass. “I got distracted and I think I added cloves three times. I was hoping maybe it was just me and it would be okay.”
Corban drained the glass and cleared his throat. What was he supposed to say?
Ruth laughed. “I can see the wheels turning. You don’t have to say it.”
“What was it supposed to be?”
“Orange bread, with some clove to spice it up a little. But a little goes a long way with cloves. As you can see.” She took the plate and carried it to the sink. She dumped the rest of the slice in the trash and set the plate on the counter. “Would you like something else? I have all the usuals.”
“I’m good. I don’t always come over to eat. I just wanted to see you. It’s been a busy morning, uncovering all the early plants. Now that we’re into May, it should be safe enough. Planted the last field. So it’s just a matter of making sure everything’s coming along. Lettuce and spinach will be ready to pick in June, but nothing else until July. That’s when things will keep me hopping.” Corban held out his hand and waited until she crossed the kitchen and sat back down, her fingers curving around his. “Ruth? I wanted to tell—”
The phone rang and Ruth popped out of her seat, darting across the room to grab the handset from its base. “I’m so sorry. Hold that thought.” She pushed a button on the phone. “Fairview B&B, this is Ruth.”
Corban’s shoulders slumped. He’d been working up the courage to tell her he loved her for a week now. The timing never seemed right. Was God trying to tell him something?
“Uh huh. Yes, I have it. Thanks.” Ruth hung up the phone and frowned. “Well, it seems the sign was stolen several weeks ago from a property in Twin Falls that just went on the market. The police are working on it.”
“Now what?”
“I guess I call the detective in charge and see what there is to see. Which is not what I need to be doing.”
Corban drummed his fingers on the table. “Want to call Emerson instead? Have him look into it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to impose on him.”
He shrugged. “Seems like this might be a situation where having an attorney might make a conversation go faster. I can’t see how it would hurt to have your attorney also be a friend.”
“Okay. That makes sense. Will you call him?”
“Of course.” Corban dug out his cell phone and punched Emerson’s number. “Hey, Em. Got a sec? Cool.”
He explained the situation as clearly as he could and waited while Emerson asked some questions that neither he nor Ruth had answers to. “Sure. See you in a few.”
“He’s coming here?”
Corban nodded. “He thought it’d be easier to make the call from here, with you by him in case there were more questions. I’ll take the boys out in the back yard so they can run around, and that way you won’t be disturbed.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can put the TV on in the lounge. I’d like you here. Is that okay?” She slid her arm around his waist.
Warmth worked its way through him. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what I’ll do.”
11
Ruth paced the kitchen. She needed to be doing something. Waiting was driving her crazy.
“Come here.” Corban held out a hand. “Why don’t we pray? Pacing isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
She blew out a breath. That was a good idea. Sort of. Did God really care about her? When she’d found out about the B&B it had seemed like He might—even if He’d taken Naomi in order to show it. Seemed like there was nothing good that didn’t have some hint of sorrow attached to it. But now? Was she going to lose everything? Was it going to be more proof that anything she touched turned to dust? Ruth crossed to the kitchen table and sat, folding her hands in her lap.
Corban picked up her hands and wrapped them between his. It was a comforting gesture that left her insides gooey. This man. He was special. And she never would have met him if she hadn’t come here. But if the B&B...no. She wouldn’t go there just yet.
He squeezed her hands before starting to speak. “Heavenly Father, we’re coming to You now a little bit confused and worried. We don’t have much information yet, but we also know You’re in control. We’re trusting You with the B&B, and with our future. Jesus, it feels like everything is connected and I know that as much as Ruth doesn’t want to lose this place now that she’s making it her own, I don’t want to lose the woman I love. Thank You for bringing her to Arcadia Valley and to me. Hold us in the palm of Your hand and give us peace. Amen.”
Ruth opened her eyes and sought his gaze. He loved her?
“I knocked, but no one answered, so I just came in. I hope that’s okay?” Emerson poked his head into the kitchen.
“Where are the boys?” Ruth dragged her spinning thoughts back to the present. She could worry about whether or not Corban loved her later. “I have some DVDs...”
“I dropped them by my parents. I wasn’t sure how long this would take and figured that was safer. Dad was saying they might walk down to the community garden greenhouses and check on the seedlings. I can’t imagine there’s much to see yet, but the kids were excited by the prospect. I’m guessing there’ll be ice cream involved, too.” Emerson stuck his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you fill me in?”
“Let’s move into the lounge. Do you want a drink or snack?” Ruth pulled her hands from Corban’s and stood.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
Corban held her gaze for a moment before he stood and followed Emerson out of the kitchen. Ruth pressed a hand to her stomach and took a deep breath. God? If You’re going to help, I’d real
ly love it if it was now.
Ruth focused all her attention on pulling the strudel dough as thin as she could without tearing. It was the only thing she’d been able to think of that would force her not to stress about anything after Emerson and Corban left. She hadn’t made strudel in a long time. She’d learned when she was younger, working with her grandmother in the kitchen while the boys ran wild on their California farm during the annual summer trip west. Most people cheated and used store made phyllo, but it wasn’t the same. Still, the temptation was reasonable. Stretching dough using only your knuckles was slow and tedious.
Jonah clomped into the kitchen and stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” Ruth didn’t look up as she worked her hands from the center of the square out.
“You’re making strudel. You only make strudel when you don’t want to think. You only don’t want to think when something’s wrong.” Jonah crossed to the sink and washed his hands. He moved to the other side of the island, slid his hands under the pastry, and began pulling in the opposite direction.
“Careful.” Ruth frowned. Two people could make it go faster. But it could also result in huge holes.
“I know. Now tell me.”
She sighed and began to pour out the story, from the sign in the yard forward. “So, Emerson talked to the detective, who had basically chalked the whole thing up to kids. The neighbor of the original house where the sign was got a cell phone photo of the person stealing the sign, which the police forwarded to Emerson. It was Jaden. So I called her and she referred me to her attorney. She’s contesting the will. And in the mean time, I guess, trying to get me to give up and leave. Or something. Emerson thinks it’s an attempt to circumvent the entire process. He says contesting a will in court rarely changes the outcome—you have to work very hard to prove undue influence and her chances are effectively nil. But even though there’s very little chance that she’ll win, she can tie things up in court for a long time.”
“Oh man.”
Ruth nodded. Court meant money. Money she didn’t have. She blinked back tears. “It’s happening again.”
“No. No, it isn’t. Not necessarily.” Jonah slid his hands out from under the dough and came around the island to wrap Ruth in his arms. “This is nothing like Rosemont. There’s no preppy snob taking you out to try and steal your secrets in order to give the inside scoop to a third party. And you’re not trying to go this alone. Two major factors in the first disaster.”
“But it’s still me, Jonah. Everything I touch falls apart.” She buried her head in his shoulder, the words echoing in her ears. A small, quiet voice in her head yelled that they weren’t true. But the slideshow of her experiences in life drowned it out. It’s why she’d given up after the Rosemont and gone from one retail job to another. What was the point in having dreams when chasing them always ended so badly? “Besides, Corban...”
“Is an honest man who, if I can read people at all, is at least half in love with you. Don’t try to lump him in with Lars. I mean really, Lars? Who names their kid that?”
Probably a ton of Swedish people. But that wasn’t the point. Was Corban half in love? All the way? Either one, he hadn’t said it to her. Not really. Did she want him to? She did. So, so much. She couldn’t be the one to say it first this time. Couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk that. But Jonah was right. Corban was nothing like Lars. She sniffled. “What am I going to do?”
Jonah stepped back and gave her shoulder an awkward pat. “What did Emerson say?”
Ruth wiped her eyes on her shoulder and looked down at the pastry. It was ready. She took the small pan of melted butter off the stove and dug a brush out of a drawer. “He said he needed to look into some things and he’d call me later tonight. Or email. And until then he said not to worry.”
He chuckled. “Thus the strudel.”
“It was all I could think of.” She brushed the butter over the paper-thin dough. “Grab the bowl of filling from the fridge, would you?”
Jonah took a large bowl out and waited for her to set aside the butter. “I know it’s hard, but let’s try to take his advice. At least the not worrying part. He’s a lawyer too, you said, right?”
Ruth nodded and took the bowl. She spread the chopped apples, raisins, and nuts coated in a cinnamon, sugar, and flour mixture across the pastry. Setting aside the bowl, she moved to the short end of the rectangle and began the slow, careful process of rolling the concoction.
“So we’ll wait. And eat strudel.” He grinned and stepped out of the way.
“Grab the sheet tray?”
This was the tricky part, getting the thick roll onto the baking tray without ripping any of the layers. Or dropping it. She wiggled one long piece onto the tray, then, holding her breath, flipped the other up and into a large horseshoe.
“Nice. Any butter left?”
“Of course.” She retrieved the pan and brushed butter across the top and down the sides. “The oven should be ready. Thanks, Jonah.”
“Hey. That’s what I’m here for.”
12
Corban idly scrubbed Spock’s head with one hand while he rocked on the front porch. His Bible was open in his lap, but he stared out into the darkening front yard, mulling over the words he’d just read. He’d always struggled with injustice, and the goings on with Ruth today screamed of that. Why was it that evil sometimes prospered? It was the question of the ages, apparently. And the reminder from Psalm 37 to not fret over the one who prospers from evil was timely. Even if he couldn’t quite reconcile that with wanting to defend Ruth. Seeing the hurt and fear in her eyes had nearly undone him.
He loved her.
The words had slipped out in his prayer. Had she caught them? If Emerson hadn’t shown up...well, he had. So that was a moot point. But now what? Was she ready to hear it? Was he ready to say it aloud, for real? He wasn’t a kid anymore. If only she’d come before his parents passed. How they would’ve loved her.
Headlights turned into the drive. Corban frowned. “Looks like we’ve got some company, Spock.”
Jonah stepped down from the truck and lifted a hand.
“Evening.” Corban grinned as Spock trotted down the steps barking and circling around the new arrival.
“Hey. Hope it’s okay. I thought about calling...but I didn’t want Ruth to know I was coming over.”
Corban’s eyebrows lifted. That seemed unusual. “Oh?”
“I brought you some strudel.”
“Where’d you get strudel?” Corban’s mouth watered. Mrs. Mauz, their neighbor when he was a kid, had made the world’s most incredible strudel. When she’d died and their farm was sold, he’d given up looking for the treat. No one did it like she did.
“Ruth made it. She only does it when she’s trying not to think too hard. It’s a pain.”
Homemade? It had to be better than the soggy mess the stores—and even the bakery in town—tried to pass off. “Come on in. You bring enough for two?”
“Do I look dumb?” Jonah laughed and held up the container.
“Whose truck?”
“Mine.” Jonah pulled open the screen door and followed Corban to the kitchen. “I sold my car before moving out—seemed easier all around. I saw this one online last night, checked into it today when I took the couple staying at the B&B into town. It wasn’t hard to convince them to drive Ruth’s car back. They’d planned to get a rental—still might—but you can tell they don’t want to.”
“When do they leave?” Corban pulled down two plates and got out glasses. “Milk?”
Jonah nodded. “Day after tomorrow? The one after that? Sometime soon. They can probably do without. Ruth’s a soft touch.”
Corban sat and offered Jonah a knife. “You want to do the honors?”
“Sure.” Jonah tugged the foil off the container and sliced the hunk of strudel in half. He slid the pieces onto the plates and pushed one toward Corban. “Emerson called.”
“I wondered if that might be why you came.
” He battled disappointment that Ruth hadn’t picked up the phone or come herself. Though she had guests. Maybe she couldn’t get away. Or maybe she didn’t feel the way he did.
“I’m sure Ruth’ll call you tonight, after everyone heads up to bed. This couple likes to sit and chat in the lounge. That wasn’t really why I came. I—” He took a deep breath and stabbed up a bite of apples. “Has she told you much about her first inn?”
Corban shook his head. He hadn’t pried. “I figured she’d tell me when she wanted to.”
Jonah scoffed and pointed his fork at Corban’s plate. “You have to at least try it.”
Corban poked his fork into the pastry, the flaky layers giving way and exposing glistening apples. It looked like a strudel should. Putting the bite in his mouth, he closed his eyes.
“Good, right?” Jonah grinned. “Anyway. The Rosemont—that was her first inn—it was a disaster, almost from day one. There was a bigger company interested in the property, couldn’t get the owners to sell to them...long story short, they ended up forcing Ruth to close. She’s never really recovered.”
“That’s horrible. But...I guess I’m not following?”
“She’s worried it’s happening again. And I’m worried she’ll just give up, not fight. Unless she feels like there’s a reason. Maybe there’s something—or someone—here worth fighting for?”
Corban coughed as the apple went down the wrong way. He reached for his milk and took a long swig. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.”
Jonah shrugged.
“What are you asking?”
“Are you in this for the long haul? Or are you just playing with my sister ‘cause she’s new in town and something different?”
“Is forever long enough?”
Jonah held Corban’s gaze for several heartbeats before a slow grin spread across his face. “Yeah. Welcome to the family, man.”
Loaves & Wishes: An Arcadia Valley Romance (Baxter Family Bakery Book 1) Page 7