She hadn’t meant to suggest Vermont to Utopia either, but her father had basically struck her with lightning when he dumped Grandma Gail’s property and this right of first refusal crap into her lap. Before she knew it, she was telling the vice president, Rita Davenbridge, about a log cabin themed resort idea she’d pulled out of her ass. Of course, Rita loved it. Of course, Lily had to trek across the damn continent to make it happen.
Of course, this completely sucked.
Lily squinted out the windshield. Creatures could be tracking her as she drove by. A deer could shoot out into the road and demolish the Jeep in a heartbeat. She could run into a patch of ice, spin out, and careen down Stannard Mountain. The Jeep could malfunction, leaving her to freeze to death in the driver’s seat.
“Knock it off, Hinsdale.”
She shoved a handful of jellybeans from the bag in the cup holder into her mouth. She’d been doing so since she landed at the airport, got her suitcase, and rented the Jeep. She was three-fourths of the way through this bag—her second bag. Fortunately, she’d packed ten.
She focused on the noise her chewing made. The radio was of no use with none of the stations coming in clearly this deep into the woods. Why hadn’t she brought one of her treasured movie soundtracks?
Lily picked up her cell phone, but didn’t know who to call. Most of her friends in California would be unreachable with the time difference. Another rainbow mix of jellybeans made its way to her lips. If she kept this going, she’d be up all night on a sugar rush. Probably didn’t matter anyway. She’d be up all night listening for sounds of large beasts prowling outside her grandmother’s cabin.
Fingering the cell phone again, her last link to the real world, Lily considered calling her boss, Drew Ashburn. Knowing her distaste for the woods, he’d felt bad about sending her to Vermont, but his job was also on the line. If Lily failed in her attempt to make this rustic resort work on this property, Drew would be in trouble too. Part of what made her and Drew so successful as a professional team was they always came through. She’d always proposed ingenious designs, he’d always orchestrated the carryout of those designs, and the higher-ups had always been more than pleased. The surveys guests filled out consistently mentioned how well the themes had been constructed in the resorts. Underwater themes, safari themes, rock-and-roll themes, even vampire and Martian themes.
This won’t be any different, Lily assured herself. You can make this work as you’ve made all the others work. Rita wants natural, rustic. She’s going to get natural, rustic.
Tree branches scraped against the side of the Jeep as Lily passed, and she let out a yelp.
“Stop being such a fool.”
After another ten minutes of riding through her personal nightmare, the glow of a streetlight illuminated the gated entrance to Grandma Gail’s property. The driveway was covered in more than two inches of snow because it hadn’t been plowed.
“Wonderful.” Lily turned on the Jeep’s 4 x 4 and said a silent prayer as she pressed her foot on the gas pedal. The absence of snow was another thing on Lily’s enormous list of Things to Love About California.
The Jeep handled the snowy inclines and declines, the slick twists and turns, with ease, and Lily was glad she had taken the car rental lady’s advice to get this vehicle. An unfortunate putrid cream color—not at all sexy like the black amethyst pearl paint on her Lexus back home—the machine laughed in the face of the challenging driveway. Maybe it would keep her safe from all the dangers of Vermont.
A massive form came into view at the top of the driveway. Another streetlight revealed the cabin and the dagger-like icicles hanging from the porch roof. Lily had once seen a movie where the villain died from an icicle spearing into his head. His crimson blood had been vivid against the white snow as it seeped from the fatal wound.
“Quick, think of a comedy.” Lily scoured her mental database of memorized and treasured movies, but nothing came to mind.
Pulling to a stop in front of the garage, she shut off the engine. She rummaged around in the envelope her father had given her containing the documents about the property and the right of first refusal agreement with the neighbor.
“Neighbor?” Lily peered out the windows. No indications existed that anyone lived close by. The blackness was endless in every direction.
Shivering, her fingers closed around the key to the cabin. Holding it in one hand, Lily gripped the steering wheel with her other hand. She had reached the moment she dreaded most—getting out of the car and walking to the cabin’s front door. It wasn’t a long walk, but anything could happen in that distance, as she well knew.
She shifted in her seat, letting her clothes rub against the scars on her back. Silly to be this afraid. She ran along Pearl Cove back home almost every morning. Certainly she was in good enough shape to zip from the Jeep to the house. And she was aware now. Not like when she was a kid staying with Grandma Gail at this cabin. She’d thought she was invincible then. She was better prepared, better armed now.
Why didn’t you pack a rifle? Lily sifted out a long breath. “Because you’re not a gun-toting lunatic, that’s why.”
After stealing two more jellybeans for good measure, she grabbed her purse, her laptop case, and her suitcase. She was only going to make this run in the dark once tonight. Counting to three, she threw open the driver side door, juggled all her paraphernalia as she got out of the car, and proceeded to drop each item at least once. Swearing, she looped her purse strap across her body, slung the laptop case strap over her shoulder, and picked up the suitcase.
Something in the shadows could be putting a damn napkin across its lap and deciding what part to eat first, Hinsdale.
On that thought, she swung the door shut and bolted for the cabin. She slipped twice, but never fell to the ground, before jamming the key into the lock. She tore into the cabin, slammed the door shut behind her, and disarmed the house alarm. She leaned against the door as if bracing for something terrible to come crashing inside.
Lily’s heartbeat filled her ears along with the huffing breaths she took to calm herself. She flipped on the closest light switch and the huge chandelier in the foyer screamed to life.
Light. Light was good.
“Now if only Grandma Gail would come down the stairs, you’d be all set.” Lily threw a glance to the top of the stairs, but of course, Grandma Gail was corked in an urn and sitting on one of the shelves in her father’s living room in California. Her personal hero’s laughter would never again fill this cabin or this world.
Lily set her suitcase, laptop, and purse down in the foyer and walked through the house holding an umbrella she’d found by the door like a sword. She turned on every light in the cabin. Every light until the place was as lit as a California beach in the middle of the afternoon.
She went to the sunken great room with its floor to vaulted ceiling fireplace and pressed a button on the end table by the huge leather sectional. Two enormous, wooden doors on the wall perpendicular to the fireplace slid open to reveal a flat screen TV almost the size of a garage door. Hitting another button, Lily opened the drawer below the TV containing the DVD player.
She jogged back to her suitcase and pulled out the bag of movies she’d brought. She didn’t plan on staying in Vermont for long—just long enough to meet with this neighbor guy and draw up some designs for the new resort—but she’d brought items from California to help keep her mind off being so isolated in the woods. Jellybeans, movies, a stuffed tiger she’d had since she was twelve.
She popped in While You Were Sleeping with Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman and let the characters’ voices fill the cavernous house. Lily liked space in a house, but Grandma Gail had gone overboard here. Though she’d spared no expense furnishing it, the place was cold and unwelcoming. Much too big for one person.
Why did you like it here, Grandma Gail? Sure, the house was beautiful and architecturally brilliant with its log walls, stone accents, and metal work, but it made Lily feel so small
.
Vulnerable.
She locked the front door and walked through the rest of the first floor, making sure every door and window was secured in the great room, kitchen, dining room, library, gym, bathrooms, and laundry room before setting the house alarm again. She grabbed her suitcase and climbed the stairs to the second floor where the master bedroom, two guest bedrooms, and two bathrooms waited in silence. Everything was just as she remembered it as a kid.
Would that hot tub out back still be there? Lily shook off the chill running through her body at the thought of the hot tub.
She stood at the doorway of the master bedroom and decided to sleep there. No way was she staying in the guest room she’d used when she was ten. Out of the question. Besides, the master bathroom had an oversized tub, and a bath sounded like just the thing to settle the jellybean buzz currently inflicting Lily’s system.
She set her suitcase on the bed and decided against unpacking. Not staying long enough. Instead she moved the suitcase to the cushioned chaise by the sliding glass doors. The black abyss beyond the doors raised the hairs on the back of Lily’s neck. She yanked on the cord for the blinds, sending them shushing along the track. With a quick flick of her wrist, Lily closed them, keeping the sinister darkness outside hidden.
She went back downstairs and watched the movie for a little while before deciding to take it upstairs. In the bedroom, she slipped the DVD into the TV hanging on the wall and turned the volume up so she would be able to hear it in the bathroom next door. After grabbing her toiletry kit, she entered the bathroom and paused at her grandmother’s bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, as if she’d planned on slipping into it the next time she came to the cabin. Lily buried her face in the velvety fabric and breathed in Grandma Gail’s scent—a cross between lilacs and baby powder.
She slid to the marble floor, pulling the robe down into her lap, and she cried. Cried over the frustration of being somewhere she didn’t want to be, over blurting things out in meetings without thinking of the consequences, over not having anyone to comfort her right now, over never seeing Grandma Gail again.
Over what might be in store for her when she went outside tomorrow.
Lily tried to shake off the gloom, but it had a tight grip tonight. “Pull yourself together.”
She never felt this pathetic in California. She was alive there and important. She was in the center of things back west. Here, she was just a scared child again.
“You’ll never convince this maple syrup guy to let you sell this land to Utopia if you show up in this state.” Lily reached to the sink and pulled herself to standing. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her mascara had run down her cheeks in two black rivers, but her eyes were still the usual vibrant blue-green. Her tan rocked in the lights around the mirror. Her hair was a little wild after the plane ride, but the red-gold curls that fell to her shoulders were still ready for a night on the town.
“No action here, girls.” Lily ran her fingers through her hair, separating the curls and fluffing the entire hairdo in the process. Sighing, she pulled off her calf-high leather boots, jeans, corduroy blazer, and the white blouse she’d worn underneath. Folding the clothes neatly, she set them on the chaise beside her suitcase and pulled out underwear and fuzzy fleece pajamas.
She read the card Drew had included with the pajamas. If I can’t keep you warm at night, maybe these will.
That should have melted her, but all she heard behind the words was desperation. Drew was great to work with, but why didn’t he understand they couldn’t continue an intimate relationship? They’d had some fun, but it wasn’t going anywhere. He had to see that too. They made a better professional match than a personal one.
Alas, she didn’t have any warm pajamas to bring to Vermont. Her California sleepwear consisted of a silk camisole and matching shorts. She’d freeze her tits off in that get-up here.
Lily filled the tub with hot water and eased herself in while Sandra and Bill fell in love on the TV. The suds soothed her tensed muscles, and she burrowed deeper into their citrus kiss. Why was falling in love always so simple in the movies? How did those characters know they were made for each other? If those movies had another thirty minutes to them, couldn’t someone more perfect for the main character come along and sweep her off her feet? Couldn’t she be happier with the next guy?
Is that why I won’t settle for Drew? Was she holding out for someone better? Lily closed her eyes and pictured Drew next to her in bed as he’d been on several occasions. What was it about him that kept her from saying he was The One? He loved her. In some form. She could see it in the way he looked at her as if the world weren’t crawling with hundreds of other women willing to be with him. In the way he kissed her when she let him. In the comfortable way he touched her.
Why isn’t that enough?
She opened her eyes and remembered Grandma Gail’s description of her grandfather. When Lily was fifteen and finally noticing boys, she had asked Grandma Gail why she picked Grandpa Henry to marry. She’d said, “He’s the only man to ever make me really mad and really happy. And he has a spectacular ass.”
Lily had been excited to find that kind of love. Fresh out of college, she took an entry level job at Utopia Resorts where she’d tried out several possibilities from coworkers to guests to captains of cruise ships docking at the resorts. By the time she’d become Senior Hotel Designer, she had caught Drew’s eye. He was the only one she’d gone out with formally more than five times. The only one she’d had sex with on a regular basis, but they’d both kept it loose and open. They’d seen other people in between their romps. Only lately had Drew been pressing for something more definite.
Maybe she’d watched too many romantic movies. Was she being unrealistic? Perhaps when she got back to California in a few days, she would tell Drew they could give it a try. Lily didn’t think he’d fire her if it all went into the shitter. He was more professional than that, and she was good at her job. He’d only be hurting himself if he canned her.
Lily stayed in the tub until her fingers resembled raisins, and the water had become a lukewarm tea. She toweled off, slipped on the fuzzy pajamas, and flopped onto the king-sized bed in time to see Bill drop the engagement ring in Sandra’s tray at the train terminal. Drew probably had an elaborate plan for such an occasion. He liked to do things big, expensively, and with drama.
As the end credits scrolled by, Lily picked up her cell phone sitting on the bedside table. She could call Drew right now and tell him the decision she’d made. He’d be delighted to hear it.
But would she?
Chapter Three
Rick reclined on the couch with The DaVinci Code open in his lap, but he had reread the same sentence at least ten times. It still wasn’t making any sense, because his mind was not on the story. Instead, all the jobs he was supposed to be doing today flipped through his mind like a rapid-fire slideshow. Installing more taps on his land and the neighbor’s. Giving the pans in the evaporator a final rinse. Chopping firewood for the sugarhouse furnace.
The syrup bottles he’d ordered had to be sanitized, but maybe he could do that later today. Pull up a chair to the big sink in the sugarhouse. He felt a little better at having thought of that notion, though he doubted he’d be able to make it all the way to the sugarhouse. God, he needed to be doing something. Sitting on the couch was going to drive him insane. It had before.
“Rick?” Hope called.
“In the living room,” he yelled back.
Hope and Sage appeared each wearing a snowsuit. Hope’s was pink and Sage’s was purple. Their boots were white and trimmed in glittery fur, and under their fuzzy white hats, two fat, blond braids snaked down each of their backs. They resembled Swedish ski team applicants. Rick would have laughed if he weren’t so damn mad at himself for tripping like a fool.
“We’re going to head out to finish plugging the trees.” Sage lowered into one of the corduroy-covered recliners facing the couch.
“M
ake sure you use the 7/16 bit on the auger to drill the holes,” Rick said.
“Yes, sir.” Hope sat in the rocking chair facing the fireplace and saluted him.
“Drill at an upward slant of about ten degrees.” Rick pantomimed drilling with his hands. “So water doesn’t get in. And be certain the spiles are secure. If they come loose—”
Rick stopped when Sage stood and marched over to the couch. She put her hands on her hips and glowered down at him. If she didn’t weigh only slightly more than a hundred pounds, he would have been scared of the look on her face.
“Drilling holes in trees and hammering in a couple spouts isn’t rocket science, Rick,” she said. “I think between the two of us we have brainpower almost equal to yours, Great Tree Whisperer. We can handle this.”
“I really hope we don’t break a nail.” Hope studied her fingers and smirked as she rocked in her chair.
“Yeah.” Sage took a step back from the couch. “Or ruin our hairdos.”
“What if we come back looking like him?” Hope teased.
“Then we shouldn’t come back,” Sage said. “We’ll have to resign ourselves to living in the forest, away from civilization.” She gestured to Poe sitting beside the couch. “We’ll be forced to live amongst the coyotes.”
Hope and Sage enjoyed a hearty round of laughter, while Rick threw a pillow from the couch at each of them. “Nice to taunt a guy when he’s down. Real nice.”
“You know we love you, Ricky.” Sage bent down and moved his tea out of reach on the coffee table chest and winked.
“Don’t call me Ricky.” He reached for Sage, but she sidestepped his grasp.
“Nothing you can do about it, invalid.” Hope grinned and got up from her seat. “C’mon, Sage. We better get a move on if we’re going to finish putting those black thingies in the trees.”
More Than Pancakes (The Maple Leaf Series Book 1) Page 2