Evil eye? Natalie glanced at Carson. Surely Sawyer hadn’t meant Carson liked her in that way.
Carson’s smile vanished. “We need to go, Sawyer.” He nodded to Natalie. “See you later.” The bell over the door tinkled as they stepped back into the sunshine.
“Well, well, well,” Shelby said, smiling. “Did you all see what I saw? Carson has a crush on Natalie.”
“That’s so not true,” Natalie said, leaning down to pick up the crayon that had rolled to the floor. It was still warm from Carson’s fingers.
“Sawyer said Carson gave him the evil eye for giving you flowers. What do you think he meant?”
“Oh, stop it! He was kidding. And I was only sixteen, and Sawyer was thirteen.”
“And Carson was seventeen,” Julia said. “Did he ever ask you out?”
“No,” Natalie said. She wasn’t about to tell them he’d asked her to get a Coke and she’d turned him down because she was giddy about going to the prom with Chris, a senior at the time. Carson had never asked again. What would have happened if she’d said yes that day?
Shelby eyed her over the top of Penelope’s head. “You’re afraid of being like your mother, aren’t you?”
Her friend’s perception shouldn’t have startled her.
Shelby had an uncanny ability to read her mind.
“It’s easy for guys to hide who they really are.”
“You have much better judgment than your mom,”
Julia said. “And I’m a discerner. There’s nothing fake about Carson.”
“My mother swore that was the case about husband number three. And four. And five,” Natalie said. “I don’t want anyone to deceive me.”
“So you’re going to be single the rest of your life, just to be safe?” Shelby asked. “What kind of life is that?”
“As you just said, a safe one,” Natalie said. “Besides, you girls are blowing this out of proportion. Carson isn’t interested in me.” She picked up a plate of gluten-free cranberry bars. “Here, try these. Cranberries are good for you. They’re full of antioxidants and protect against heart disease and cancer. I put more figs in them, so they’re sweeter than the last batch.”
Julia shot to her feet. “Uh, I have to go.”
Shelby hugged Natalie on the way out. “Trust God,” she whispered. “He might be opening a door for you.”
Natalie nibbled on a cranberry bar and watched her friends through the big window. There was nothing wrong with being sure you knew someone before getting involved.
Not that she was “involved” with Carson. They were just going to work together.
Carson didn’t like his attorney’s expression as he shut the door to the office and indicated a chair. It was just a little too eager, and the message Brian had left on Carson’s cell phone had been too bright as well.
“Been a good day?” Carson asked. He wasn’t about to even look at the way his morning had gone. The store had been packed with people working on their property and talking about the pros and cons of the romance idea. Good for business, but it made him uneasy. What if they were all hitching their dreams to a falling star?
“Amazingly good,” Brian said, rubbing his forehead.
“We have to talk, Carson.”
“Not sure I like the sound of that. Is there a problem?”
“There’s an offer for your property at the lake.”
Carson sat back. “I’m not interested in selling. Who is it, and why do they want it?”
“An investor from New York. He heard about the idea to renovate Smitten and wants to build a big hotel.”
“Bad news sure gets around.”
“You’re still opposed?”
“It’ll never work. If they wanted to make us more like Stowe, catering to the outdoor types, I’d be hopeful, but this is a really nutty idea.”
“I disagree,” Brian said. “I did some research on towns that have a theme, and their tourist business is booming. The town is really onto something big here.”
First his uncle, now Brian. Carson had always admired his attorney’s business head. If the guy was in favor, he had to at least listen. “Got an example?”
Brian nodded. “Take the Poconos. They were a resort destination once upon a time, but bookings had diminished.
Then in the sixties some of the lodging places started putting in things like heart-shaped tubs and publicizing it as a honeymoon place. Life magazine ran a story about the tubs and the honeymooners. Tourism boomed. There are other towns that advertise something special like German culture or Christmas year-round. Hershey, Pennsylvania, is the chocolate capital. If we specialize on romance, it could be our salvation.”
“Come on, Brian, it’s peanuts! A few tourists wandering in to see what all the hoopla is about. They’ll just wander right back out, and we’ll have spent all this money for nothing. The mill employed five hundred people. We won’t replace that many jobs with this idea.”
“Put your personal feelings aside,” Brian said. “Think about it. You sure you don’t want to sell? The guy is offering an outrageous amount of money.” Brian named a figure that made Carson gasp.
But he would never sell. The place had been a camp for fishermen since the 1800s.
“If you aren’t going to sell it, the guy offered to invest in your business,” Brian said. “I think you have to consider it.
Your cabins are a crucial piece of the overall plan. We need the lodging for this to work.”
“I have lodging.”
Brian’s nose wrinkled. “Old cots and rough sheets. No woman in her right mind would agree to stay there.”
Maybe today’s news would lift that glum expression from Brian’s face. Carson stretched out his legs. “Sawyer stopped in on his way to a concert.”
“I wondered if that was his bus I saw this morning. I only caught a glimpse.”
“He just headed out. He asked me if things would be up and running in time to have his wedding here. He’d like to do his part with some publicity.”
Brian’s expression brightened. “Good idea!”
“Yeah.”
Sawyer’s face was often on the front cover of magazines. With that kind of promotion, the town would see some major tourism.
“It could be the big break we all need. A love capital suits his image too, since he focuses on love songs and not drinking ones,” Brian said. “It all ties together.”
“So you really think this idea has merit?”
“It’s either this or we all pack up and move out.” Brian stared into his computer screen. “I ran some numbers for your renovation. It will be expensive. The guy’s offer might be something you want to accept.”
Carson didn’t want to get on board with this idea, but did he have the right to kill it? If there were no decent lodgings for tourists or for Sawyer’s wedding guests, the plan would fail. Did he want to be responsible for the town’s demise if this scheme actually would have worked?
Carson thought of the amount he had in savings. “It will be tight. I just did some improvements to my hardware store.”
Brian pursed his lips. “I could loan you the money on a one-year note with a promise to repay after the wedding. A week of full cabins at the prices you could charge would go a long way to paying off the loan.”
“Sawyer has offered to help out. My uncle too. I’m still not convinced. And the cabins are still going to look like, well, cabins,” Carson said. “No matter what I do.”
The camp had been on shaky ground for several years, but he kept hoping his ads in fishing magazines would pay off. But spring was here, and the bookings hadn’t picked up.
Yesterday’s cancellation would really hurt.
Brian shrugged. “People love the look of cabins. They just want the amenities inside.”
“I’m not sure how to begin,” Carson said. “I guess I could hire a designer.”
“Or talk to Natalie. She’s got a notebook of pictures that shows what she has in mind.”
Carson kept his expression passive. “I’ll figure it out.”
He left the office with a promise to drop off estimates of how much he would need by tomorrow.
No way would he go crawling back to that maddening woman and ask for her list of suggested changes. Never mind the thought that being around her gave a blip to his pulse.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a gorgeous spring day with crocuses popping up and a light breeze playing through the treetops, but Natalie’s heart wasn’t in the experience when she thought of what she should be doing. “I can’t believe you talked us into this, Reese Mackenzie,” she grumbled. Her breath whooshed out of her mouth as she trudged up the mountain slope to keep up with her friends. “How could you inflict this torture on your best friends? And you know I hate heights.”
Reese widened her eyes in mock innocence. “It’s good for you, Nat. Just walking isn’t strenuous enough for optimal health. And we all know how health conscious you are.”
Hoist by her own petard. “Oh, sure, throw that in my face.”
Reese gave a cheeky grin and blew her bangs out of her eyes.
“Besides, any excuse to forget about my job is a good time.”
“Still hate it, huh?”
“My boss is a dragon. I just get things organized, and she dumps a bunch of files on my desk that are totally mixed up. I never feel like I’m making any progress.”
Natalie stopped and bent over as she tried to draw air into her burning lungs. “That’s gotta be totally annoying. You, Miss Organization Extraordinaire.”
Reese grinned. “Okay, maybe I take it a little far, but things run better when they are orderly.”
“I’ll agree with that.” Natalie straightened and glanced at the path down Sugarcreek Mountain. “Have we climbed high enough for our first excursion? I’m done in and ready for coffee.”
Reese checked her watch. “Twenty minutes up and another fifteen down. Perfect.” She waved at the other girls. “Back to the coffee shop!” she called to them.
Natalie stumbled down the path behind her friends. When they reached the lane back to town by the lake, she squinted in the sunshine. “Here comes Aunt Violet. So much for coffee.”
The woman was dressed in bright pink shorts with a matching shirt that clashed horribly with her red hair. She waved at Natalie and her friends. “I’ve just had the best idea!” she said as she reached the group. “My sisters and I are going to play every Friday and Saturday night in the town square.”
The Garner Sisters were a Smitten institution. Aunt Violet had played the cello once upon a time in the Boston Symphony, and Rose and Petunia were accomplished on violin and viola.
“What a great idea!”
“I ordered some Frank Sinatra love songs,” Aunt Violet said, then crooned a few lines of “The Very Thought of You.”
Natalie barely held back a wince. The woman’s singing didn’t match the skill of her cello playing.
Shelby unzipped her sleek jogging jacket. “Uh, maybe you ought to learn some more current ones. Our honeymooners will probably be in their twenties and thirties.”
Violet stiffened. “Classics never go out of style.” She glanced around the lake. “I’ll see you later, girls. I have a lot to discuss with Rose and Petunia.” She hurried off to meet up with the other women.
“I need coffee after that,” Julia said.
Natalie led the way to the coffee shop. “I have a new treat for you to try too.”
Julia groaned. “Give it up, Nat. Those gluten-free things you make are horrible.”
“This one wouldn’t have gluten in the normal ones. It’s a special energy bar that’s packed with antioxidants. You’ll like it. It’s a blueberry bar. Sweeter than the cranberry ones.”
“Gag,” Julia muttered. “I’m not trying it.” She stopped and stared toward the green clock at the town square. “Here comes Carson. Maybe he’s reconsidered what you said.”
Heat sprang to Natalie’s cheeks. Was she blushing at the thought of talking to him? Julia gave her a curious glance, but she ignored it.
Carson appeared to be a man on a mission. A frown crouched between his brows, and his eyes were cold. As the women approached, he gave them all a nod, then focused on Natalie. “I need to talk to you,” he said.
“I’m all ears.” She kept her tone light and turned to her friends. “I’ll catch up with you at the coffee shop.”
Carson waved a hand toward the park bench next to the flagpole, and Natalie walked with him toward it. She sank onto the bench and tugged her jogging jacket a little tighter.
He stared down at her. “I want to talk to you about your ideas.”
His face did not just turn red. Natalie stared at him. He definitely seemed discomfited. “My ideas about what?”
He dropped beside her on the park bench. “My fishing camp. I-I’ve reconsidered. I’m going to do some renovations.”
She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “Renovations?”
He nodded. “You know, the romance stuff.” A pained expression haunted his eyes.
She would not laugh. She would not. “I see.”
He shifted uneasily. “I wondered if I might get that list from you? Of suggested changes. I’m going to get started right away, and I need to get some quotes for materials.”
“No problem, Carson,” she said. “I’m glad to help.” She wanted to ask him what had changed his mind, but looking at his tight lips, she didn’t think she’d get an answer.
“I realized we need to work together on this,” he said. “We’re both selectpersons, and we’ll need to present a united front if we want this to be successful. I need to be all in if we have a hope of making it work.”
The very thing she’d wanted to say to him yesterday but hadn’t had the chance. “Our first committee meeting is tonight at Smitten Community Church. I’d hoped to enlist your help.”
“I’ll be there.” He stood. “Can we get that list now?”
She was dying to find out what had brought about his decision. Maybe he would spill the beans over coffee.
Carson glanced at the list Natalie had given him. The things his cabins should have were all well and good, but he had no idea how they should look. What made a rustic cabin into something luxurious? Not just the items on this list.
His office was a jumble of papers and fishing gear. Even this place would have to be brought up to elegant standards. He had no idea where to begin. Maybe he needed to hire that designer Brian had mentioned.
He heard a door slam and saw Natalie get out of her small red Dodge. The thrill that shot through him at the sight of her dark hair was downright alarming. He met her at the door. “Natalie, I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
She tossed her hair away from her face and smiled up at him as she extended a cup of coffee. “I brought a peace offering.”
“I thought we’d made up already.” He took the coffee. “Come on in, and don’t mind the mess.” She followed him inside. He scooped old fishing magazines off the chair on the other side of his desk.
She settled onto the chair. “I probably should have called, but I wanted to ask you what your timetable was for the renovations. Sawyer called about an hour ago, and his agent thinks having the wedding here is a terrific idea.”
“I know. I talked to him too.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I just don’t know that these cabins can be turned into what his friends will expect. It’s pretty overwhelming.”
“I thought it might be.” She pushed the notebook in her hands across the desk to him. “I thought you might enjoy looking at these pictures of luxury cabins.”
He flipped through the pages. The first few showed the interior of various cabins. The pine was lighter than his, which had been stained dark. What did he do about that?
She stared at him. “You’re frowning. You don’t like them?”
“They’re okay,” he said. “But they don’t look anything like the interior of my cabins.”
“Yours
don’t have to look exactly like those. The pictures are just some ideas the girls and I have collected. Would you mind if I took a look at your cabins?”
Why not? He could use all the ideas he could get. “Be my guest.” Tucking the notebook under his arm, he led her to the door and out into the yard, patchy with bald spots.
The blue of Timber Lake glimmered through the pines. The expanse of water beckoned to their right, with thick trees crowding the banks. A beautiful sight.
Natalie stared. “I never get tired of this view,” she said. “You should maximize it so visitors never forget their first glimpse.”
He took in the blue of the lake with the trees crowding the shore. Ducks paddled in the shallows, and the air was filled with the crisp scent of pine and water. Pretty as a painting, but he’d seen it so often he took it for granted.
She pointed at the sign at his drive. “The sign should be discreet, an engraved wood one, maybe. Landscaped with flowers and shrubbery that tell customers this is a special place.”
“The sign is looking ratty,” he admitted. He hadn’t even looked at it in years. The thing was peeling, and the e in “Smitten Fishing Cabins” was nearly worn off. There had once been a picture of a largemouth bass on it, but now only bits of the green paint remained.
Natalie glanced at him. “Have you given any thought to a new name? You can hardly call it anything to do with fishing. How about Smitten Cove? It has a romantic sound.”
He liked it, but he wasn’t about to capitulate yet. “I’ll think about it,” he said. At least his drive was paved. If it had been gravel, she would have wanted changes there too.
He watched her stare around the place and tried to see it with her eyes. The cabins were in good repair—he’d made sure of that. New windows two years ago, the chinks between the logs were tight and even, and the roofs had all been done just last summer.
“You need some landscaping, but the exteriors look nice,” she said. “Some redwood stain and they would be perfect.” She advanced to the first building. “How many cabins do you have?”
“Twelve.”
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