by Cassie Hayes
“Her mom passed away in a car accident shortly after she was born,” he explained. “It’s been tough, but we’ve done all right. I think we’ll thrive here, even though she claims she’ll just die without her weekly Sugarfish Sushi fix.”
Alexandria licked her lips and moaned, clearly a fan of the sushi chain. He was sure she didn’t mean to have such a profound effect on him, but he suddenly very much wished he could see her do that while they were alone in his room.
She must have seen his eyes drop to her luscious, slightly damp lips because they parted in a soft gasp. Her hand feathered against her chest before she turned her attention to Sophia.
“How old are you, Sophia?”
Grayson was grateful one of them had the sense to not get all hot and bothered in front of his daughter. His daughter, whose attention had returned to her phone, another bad habit that needed to be broken.
“Sophia, please put away the phone at the dinner table.”
She sighed heavily, as if he’d just asked her to carry an elephant across a football field, and met his gaze. “Like it matters, Daddy. You’re just going to talk about grown-up stuff anyway.”
“Away,” he repeated, his tone stern. She sighed again, but put the phone in the glittery pink clutch she carried everywhere. “Now, please answer Alexandria’s question.”
“I’m six. How old are you?”
“Sophia!”
“No, it’s okay,” Alexandria laughed. It sounded like wind chimes in a warm summer breeze. “It’s only fair. I’m 28.”
“My daddy is older than you are, aren’t you, Daddy?”
“I’m 31. How much older does that make me?”
She squinched her face up and looked at the ceiling as she calculated. He could practically see the moment the light bulb went off.
“Three!”
“That’s right, sweets!”
Sophia beamed at him with pride. “See? I know my numbers.” Her slightly petulant tone sounded off.
“Of course you do. I taught them to you myself. Did someone say you didn’t?”
She stuck out her lower lip in the world’s most adorable pout. “That Mrs. Paulson said I was lying that I knew how to do math in my head. She’s a biotch.”
He was torn between fury that his daycare provider called his daughter a liar, and shock as well as amusement at her comment. He’d deal with Erin tomorrow, right now, he had to be a parent. “Sophia! Language!”
Alexandria snickered. “Are you talking about Erin Paulson?”
Sophia nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing around like Slinkies, lip still pooched out.
“I went to school with her,” Alexandria said, leaning in and looking around for any nefarious eavesdropping spies. Her voice dropped to a loud whisper. “I have to agree with you; she is a bit of a biotch. But don’t tell her I said that.”
“I promise,” Sophia said with a megawatt grin.
“Pinky promise?”
They locked pinkies and giggled together. From that point forward, they were what Sophia called BFFs — best friends forever. They talked clothes, sushi, their mutual love of old-time movies, and how much fun it was to watch the bodybuilders on Venice Beach. It was like a G-rated version of Sex in the City.
Sophia didn’t connect much with women. Whether it was because he hardly ever brought his rare dates around, or some deep-seated trauma from never knowing her mother, he didn’t know, but a bond quickly forged between these two that warmed his heart.
It also set off warning bells in his head, but he dismissed them. Alexandria was only in town for a couple weeks, after all. Not remotely long enough to break his daughter’s heart.
But what about yours?
Chapter Three
Grayson had just finished discussing choices with the project landscaper when an absolutely ancient and utterly enormous GMC pickup rattled up to the construction site. He was no expert, but even he could tell the rust-colored and rust-eaten truck was a steaming — no, make that a smoking — pile of crap. A magnetic sign stuck to the door read Bender’s Welding. No address, no URL, no phone number, just the name.
A feral-thin man around his age hopped out, the “party” end of his brown mullet dangling out from a red, white and blue Pabst Blue Ribbon trucker’s hat that had seen better days. A teenage carbon copy of the guy leaped out of the crew cab, and two older men climbed out the passenger-side doors. The resemblance between them all was almost creepy.
“Can I help you?” Grayson asked as he approached the truck. No one had mentioned hiring a welder for the day.
“Bender’s the name, welding’s my game,” the Pabst drinker said, grabbing Grayson’s hand in a firm shake. His hands had the look of a man who worked hard and didn’t have a woman at home to nag him about washing up.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bender. I’m Grayson Conrad.”
“Oh, I ain’t Mr. Bender. Name’s Bob Benson Jr. Jr. Bender’s just my nickname cuz, ya know, I bend stuff.”
Grayson fought to not laugh. “Junior junior?” he finally managed. “That’s…unusual.”
Bender grinned, wrapping his arm around the oldest man. “Well, that’s us all around. Unusual. This here’s my granddaddy, Bob Sr., and my daddy Bob Jr., but everybody ‘round here just calls him Junior. And this young buck”—he grabbed the teen around the neck and gave him a noogie—“this is my boy, Bobby.”
“Nice to meet you all. Did someone from my crew call you up here, because I’m afraid—“
Bender shook his mullet. “Nope, no sir. Here on other business. Y’see, we’re a mite friendly with the Indians at the rancheria just over the hill. They’re always on the lookout for sedge for making their baskets, and I remember seeing some up there at the back of your lot a while back.”
“Oh?” Grayson didn’t have a clue what sedge was, but he was all for supporting the local tribe where he could.
“Hear ya’ll are about to tear up that spot. Wondering if we could, ya know, go check it out, maybe harvest a bit of the grass. I mean, it’s just gonna get plowed under anyway, so…”
He looked expectantly at Grayson who couldn’t think of a reason to deny the simple request. Something didn’t sit right though.
“Why do you need pickaxes, shovels and a metal detector to cut some grass?” Grayson asked, craning his neck to look at the equipment in the back of the truck.
Bender stepped in his line of sight. “Oh, um, that’s for another job. Y’see—“
“Bender, what the hell are you doing here!” Jacob stomped up and glared at the Benson clan.
“We was just—“
Jacob cut him off. “I know what you ‘was just’. You were going digging again, weren’t you? Well, not on my watch, buddy. Go on, get outta here. We have real work to do. Get!”
The four Bensons glared at Jacob but did as they were told.
As soon as the sound of the farting Jimmy faded, Grayson asked, “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
Jacob chuckled. “You just met The Bobs.”
“The…Bobs?”
“Yup, The Bobs. I guess they have a reputation around here as whackjobs. They think some stagecoach robber from a hundred years ago stashed his ill-gotten gold somewhere around Yosemite Flats. Claim they’re the rightful heirs. Four generations of Bensons have dug up just about every inch of land in the area with no luck, and poor Bobby is dead set on carrying on the tradition.”
“So the story about the sedge grass?”
“Just that, a story. Harvesting the grass is part of the tradition for the Monos. They’re not going to ask some redneck hillbillies to collect it for them. They’d ask for it themselves, if there was any here. The Bobs just wanted to get back there and search for their buried treasure.”
“Are they going to be a problem? Should I increase security?” Grayson pulled out his phone and scrolled to find the number for the security company that patrolled the site.
“Nah,” Jacob said with a dismissive wave. “They’re ha
rmless, really. Actually, Bender’s the best welder east of Fresno. The man can work magic with stainless steel. Was thinking of bringing him on for a couple of projects.”
“You think—“
The phone in Grayson’s hand rang, breaking off his train of thought. It was Erin Paulson, Sophia’s daycare provider. Now was as good a time as any to ream her for calling his daughter a liar. Stepping away from Jacob, he answered the phone.
“Erin, I’m glad you called. We need to talk.”
“I can’t find her.” The panic in Erin’s voice set his pulse racing.
“Who?” He knew exactly who she was talking about, but his brain couldn’t accept it without confirmation.
“Sophia! She’s not here! I can’t find her, Grayson.”
She burst into sobs and it took far too long to calm her down enough for her to make sense. If Sophia really was missing, every minute counted.
“Erin, when did you last see her?” His voice quavered with fear and rage. He reminded himself that children liked to hide, especially from someone they didn’t particularly like.
“A half hour ago,” she blubbered. “At the ice cream shop.”
“Slater’s?” It sat less than a quarter-mile from the Alpine Inn. Erin sobbed in response. He took it as a yes.
“You took the kids to Slater’s?”
Sob.
“And Sophia was there?”
Sob.
“But she didn’t make it back to your house?”
Sob, sob.
“Erin, this is important. Did Sophia get in your car for the ride back to your place?”
“I don’t know!” she screamed. “I don’t remember, okay! I-I don’t think so.”
“Don’t you move, you hear me?” he growled. “And keep this line open.”
He rang off and dialed 911 as he leaped into his car and sped toward Slater’s. The Eyrie wasn’t more than five minutes from the shop, but the drive seemed to take forever. Every possible horrifying scenario played in his head on a loop he couldn’t stop. The thought of losing Sophia made his stomach churn so badly he had to choke back the rising bile.
After what seemed like an eternity of torment, the Alpine Inn came into view, and just beyond it, Slater’s red roof. She had to be there, she just had to be. If she wasn’t…
At the last second, and acting solely on instinct, Grayson hooked a hard left into the inn’s parking lot, fishtailing in pea gravel leftover from the last snow. He screeched to a stop in the middle of the lot and bolted from the car without closing, much less locking, the door. The only thing that mattered was Sophia. Everything else was just a distraction.
Ripping open the tall, solid oak doors, Grayson ran into the lobby and skidded to a halt. There, sitting on a plush antique sofa in front of the giant fireplace, were Sophia and Alexandria, heads bowed over Sophia’s phone.
“So all I have to do is walk around and collect little cartoon blobs?”
“Pokémon,” Sophia corrected.
Grayson sank to his knees and cried.
The sun was sinking behind the western treeline as Alexandria strolled along a weedy path around the inn’s property. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail down her back so it wouldn’t fall in her face as she weeded. Stooping for the hundredth time, she yanked a couple of dandelions by the roots, glad that she’d packed jeans and a t-shirt. The neglected state of the place broke her heart.
The grounds had always been her father’s pride and joy. They only covered about an acre, and the old landscaping company that had maintained them as she was growing up had always done a fine job. Nevertheless, every single day, Russell Luther could be found trimming and edging and shaping along the sweet little walking path he’d built. Lover’s Lane, he called it. It wasn’t very romantic anymore. Another summer, and it would be all but impassable.
As she walked and weeded, her mind kept returning to the day’s events — well, the last one, to be precise.
She’d spent the day cleaning the office and trying to make sense of her mother’s chicken-scratch accounting. It would take her entire two-week vacation to sort out the inn’s finances, but at least she could head back to Marina del Rey feeling as if she’d contributed. At the very least, her brothers couldn’t nag her anymore.
The years worth of dust and all the number crunching had quickly led to a headache. A walk around Lover’s Lane would help clear her head, she’d thought. But when she pushed open the heavy main doors, a very small surprise had stood right outside them, tapping one pink-sequined Mary Jane.
“Those doors are too heavy.” Sophia had pouted and walked past Alexandria with a sniff.
Alexandria had glanced around for Grayson, hoping to spot his broad shoulders and chilling blue eyes, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had to be nearby though. He would never leave Sophia alone, she was sure of it. A thrill of anticipation pebbled her skin.
“Did you know this is a PokéStop?” Sophia had called from the comfort of the lobby sofa.
The next thing she knew, Grayson was pulling the little girl into his arms, half-sobbing, half-laughing. For a moment, Alexandria wondered what the fuss was all about, then it clicked why Sophia was waiting outside alone. She’d somehow been lost and had walked ‘home’. Grayson had clearly been out of his mind with worry.
“Grayson, I’m so sorry,” she sputtered. With his face buried in his daughter’s brown curls, she only saw the top of his head nod. “I didn’t realize… I would have called if…”
She quickly pulled herself out of the deeply private family moment and went for that walk she’d started, which seemed like hours earlier, but couldn’t have been more than five minutes.
The path was a mess. Not irredeemable, but it needed some serious love. Tidying it up would be the perfect escape from the musty confines of the office. Everything in there reminded her of her father — from the dusty antiques she couldn’t remember not being there, to the box upon overflowing box of files, receipts, menus, thank you notes and whatever else he thought worthy of keeping.
Cleaning up Lover’s Lane wouldn’t let her escape his memory though. Alpine Inn had been his dream, his life’s work. Everywhere she looked, his passion and love for the place shone through, even the rusty and overgrown bits.
Part of her — a very vocal part — screamed to stay in Yosemite Flats and bring the inn back to its former glory. It was too late to make her father proud, but with her education, skills and contacts, she could turn it into something he would have been proud of, despite Grayson’s resort being so close. In fact, it wouldn’t be hard to spin that into a selling point for the quaint, rustic inn.
There was just the little matter of her job. The job she’d sacrificed her social life for — her whole life really. Alexandria had scratched and clawed her way to where she was now. Operations Manager wasn’t exactly her dream job, but the next step was General Manager, which would give her a leg up for a corporate-level executive position down the line. And it just so happened that her boss had put her up for the promotion.
No way would she walk away from an opportunity like that, especially to come back to teeny-weeny Yosemite Flats. Los Angeles was her playground now, and she loved it. Of course, she hadn’t been to a museum in…over two years? That couldn’t be right. Yet it was and it was a shame, but also easily remedied. She’d been meaning to get to the newest museum in town, The Broad, but just hadn’t found the time, or rather, made the time, if she was being honest with herself.
No longer! The minute she got back to her small-yet-ridiculously-expensive apartment in Marina del Rey, she’d call her coworker Chelsea, or her friends Mike and David, or maybe Chad, her very occasional boy toy.
Normally, thinking about Chad brought a smile to her face. He was cute, funny and she liked him a lot. Today though, the thought of him left her cold. Not like Grayson, who steamed her right out of her Spanx every time he flickered through her mind.
As she emerged from the end of Lover’s Lane, his voice echoed across the law
n, almost as if on cue.
“Why yes, I would love to taste your muffin.”
Alexandria choked on a startled laugh, drawing the attention of Grayson and Sophia. They sat on a bench in the gazebo that overlooked a small, slightly scummy pond, each holding imaginary cups of tea. Her heart tripped at the sight and she nearly burst into tears. Not only because it was such a precious father-daughter moment, but because some of her favorite memories of her dad happened in that same spot with the same invisible tea set.
“Tea party I see,” she said as she approached, recovering quickly from her momentary rush of emotion.
“Join us,” Grayson said, his gaze skimming today’s very different outfit choice.
Naturally, the jeans were True Religion and the shirt DKNY, both scored off eBay. Of course, the fashion-challenged population of Yosemite Flats couldn’t have cared less. Maybe they were the smart ones. She cringed at the green stains on her knees and wondered how to get them out of the overpriced denim.
“Indeed,” Sophie said with a stiff nod, channeling either Queen Elizabeth or Julia Child. “We would be udderly delighted.” Then she leaned toward Grayson and asked in a hoarse whisper, “Is that right, Daddy?”
“It’s perfect, sweets.”
Alexandria bowed low, sweeping an arm out in front of her grandly. “I would be honored to partake in this exemplary affair.”
Sophia giggled, which made Alexandria happy. She’d never had much use for kids, but this one was growing on her…as was the girl’s father.
“What are we talking about?” she asked as Sophia carefully poured her an invisible miniature cup of tea.
“Sophia was telling me about her adventure today,” Grayson said, sipping from his own tiny cup, pinky pointed into the air.
His smile couldn’t hide the residual terror behind his eyes. His devotion to his daughter warmed Alexandria’s heart. Pretty much everything else of his warmed pretty much everything else of hers.
Dropping the silly accent, Sophia jumped back in. “It wasn’t an adventure, Daddy. Mrs. Paulson left me there. Alone! That’s dangerous.”